Guest Editorial AFTER THE WAR
URI GORDON These are strange and troubling days in Israel. The defeat in Lebanon has left Israeli society in confusion and disarray, bewildered by humiliation on the battlefield and less secure than ever about its future. As I write this in late August, a ceasefire is in effect across the border, but the soldiers whose capture was the excuse for Israel's knee-jerk attack are still in the hands of Hezbollah and the organisation is as popular as it has ever been. The Lebanese are slowly beginning to rebuild their devastated country and international peacekeeping forces are deploying, but there is no guarantee that by the time these words see print new hostilities will have not erupted. Some may have hoped that the defeat would shock the Israeli public into questioning their successive governments' path of warfare and unilateralism in lieu of a peace process, the pervasive 'there is no partner' mantra and the mili tary's firm grip over the political agenda. Unfortunately, such questioning does not seem to be forthcoming. Instead, a protest movement of reservists has taken life, in a move that eerily resembles the situation in Germany in 1 9 1 8. Their protest does not question the government's decision to go to war or the broader context of the conflict, but rather focuses on how the war was conducted: on the army's unpreparedness for battle - lack of supplies and ammunition, irrational orders and misguided operations - and on the fact that it was ended when it was, while a few more days of ground-force advancement would have (presumably) given Israel its missed victory. Amid unheeded demands for the resignation of the Prime Minister, Defence Minister and Chief of Staff, and for the establishment of a judicial committee of inquiry, the protest movement expresses acute indignation over the shattering of collective myths - an invincible army, an unassailable home front, a country that always prevails. Underlying this is a surge of proto-fascist sentiments, abetted by the behind-the-scenes involvement of rightist settler forces in the protest movement. The defeat is blamed on the erosion of Israelis' public virtue and moral fabric - their republican spirit of commitment and of sacrifice for the common good - all because of 'the elites', 'liberal academics', 'decadent party-goers' and 'the nouveau-riche'. The wish for a strong leader that will put the country in order and suppress unpatriotic elements is palpable, and it is no alarmism to expect that a present or as-yet unknown figurehead of the populist right will step into the vacuum, sending the country into an unstoppable downward spiral towards authoritarianism at home and a reckless permanent war regionally. \02
AFTER THE WAR There is no question that the moral fabric of Israeli society has been dras tically eroded, but laying the blame on the hedonists and peaceniks only distracts attention from the real source. What moral fabric could possibly remain when one people occupies another for forty years? When innocent civilians, sometimes entire families, are regularly killed in 'surgical opera tions' in the West Bank and Gaza? When the lives and livelihoods of millions are at the mercy of sergeants at checkpoints, privates at roadblocks and bureaucrats in air-conditioned offices? Is it any surprise that an army which has become a bullying police force over an occupied civilian population checking I Ds, arresting people in their bedrooms, chasing children in refugee camps and demolishing homes by the thousands - would find itself unpre pared for a confrontation with a streamlined, well-equipped and highly-motivated guerrilla force on the latter's home soil? Meanwhile, deep gloom has also enveloped the Israeli radical left (including the anarchists), the only constituency in Israel that opposed the war from the beginning. It has been frustrating that the mainstream media, locally and internationally, failed to include anything about the active opposition to the war within Israel. The day after the war started, over a thousand peace activists took to the streets in Tel-Aviv in a protest that ended in arrests and police brutality. A week later over five thousand participated in an anti-war march calling for an immediate ceasefire and negotiations. Twelve Israeli activists were arrested for blockading an air-force base at the height ofthe war. But the battle raged on in Lebanon, and this clearly gave the police and border patrols a carte blanche for repression. The most harrowing experiences were on 1 0- 1 1 August. On the Thursday, the organisers of the World Pride parade called for a vigil against homophobia in lieu of the parade they had planned, which had been cancelled - falling victim to the war and to the homo phobic incitement of ultra-orthodox Jewish, Christian and Muslim leaders and the far right, who formed an unholy alliance to oppose it. The one small glimmer of hope in all of this is that Queeruption 9, an international celebra tion of queer DIY culture, still went ahead in Tel Aviv, with almost a hundred people attending from all over the world. Queeruption also formed a signifi cant chunk of the vigil against homophobia, and with flags from other countries waving, someone brought out a Lebanese flag and whole event started to become a spontaneous anti-war demo. The police immediately declared the vigil 'illegal' and all of a sudden we were surrounded by cops and being beaten. The mainstream gay community fled: it later condemned the actions of 'a small group of anarchists who had hijacked the event'. Friday, at the weekly protest against the Wall being built in Bil'in in Palestine, the police fired rubber bullets on the large crowd of over 250 Israelis, Palestinians and internationals even before the demo began, which resulted in four serious injuries, including to an Israeli lawyer, who was shot in the head at close range and is in serious condition. He has survived, thank1 03
ANARCHIST STUDIES fully without brain damage, but could easily have been killed. Many other people were beaten, some seriously, including a Danish woman who was hit in the head with a rifle butt. This was � far more brutal response than usual. There is definitely a hardening of feeling within Israel, that 'you are either with us or you are against us', and whilst Israeli Leftists have always been treated with derision and hostility, it now seems that political dissent warrants a bullet in the head. For many ofus, even the most hardened macho Israeli activists, these events mark a new low. I'm also sorry to hear from Jewish friends overseas that they have not felt able to participate in anti-war demonstrations because they didn't want to march alongside Hezbollah flags, and am horrified by the directly linked rise in anti-semitism - from the firebombing of a synagogue in New Zealand to the murder of a Jewish woman in Seattle - no less than I am horrified by the language of racist hatred and ignorance that fills Israelis' discourse about their Arab neighbours right now. It feels like everything we've been working for, all the bridges we've built and all our dreams of finding a way for all the peoples of the Eastern Mediterranean to live together in a just peace are fading fast. The war with Lebanon has caused irreparable damage that will take generations to heal. It's hard to accept that we've hurled our energy into the peace movement, trying to put some good energy out there, and in return have been overwhelmed by all the bad energy and evil that is out there in the world. Not only do we no longer feel safe, with the very real threat of further violence, but we no longer feel able to communicate with the majority of Israelis, who seem to have fallen back to a default position of macho patriotism and the dark collective trauma around the imminent annihilation of the Jewish people and the Israeli state which they can only be hastening rather than abating. The emotional and spir itual attachment we feel to the place and to each other only makes this all the more heartbreaking. Whilst clearly the Israeli army has responded with overwhelming aggres sion to Hezbollah provocation, I have to fight not to see this issue as simply one of black and white/good and evil. Everyone suffers in war, whether phys ically or psychologically. I can't help feeling that we are being swept up in the narrative of the much broader ideological battle, either as cast by the US administration's 'Clash of Civilizations' rhetoric, or by the imperial Islamic narrative of Ahmadinejad and Nasrallah. Israeli, Lebanese and Palestinian civilians are suffering so that Iran and US politicians can continue their proxy war of words and weapons, and so that the Israeli and Hezbollah generals can show off their shiny new toys. The path towards a peaceful and progressive life in this region that we actively advocate has to be paved by joint struggle, shared values, compassion and non-violence - not the hateful racism that dominates the discourse on both sides around the Lebanon war, both within the region and worldwide. Can we 104
AFTER THE WAR overcome this stage in the conflict? Will the Israeli public ever awaken to a new path and call its leaders to task for their peace rejectionism and bullying mentality? Or will it be business as usual until an all-out war breaks out, involving not only Israel and Lebanon but Syria, Iran and the US, plummeting the region into unprecedented bloodshed, to say nothing of the looming shadow of nuclear destruction? It is very difficult to be optimistic these days. All we can do is hang on, and keep looking for those momentary glimmers of hope that make life and struggle bearable in this orphaned, unholy land.
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Anarchism. anthropology and Andalucia An Analysis of the CNT and the 'New Capitalism'
BELTRAN ROCA MART iNEZ Translated by Sharif Gemie Dpto. Antropologia Social, Universidad de Sevilla Calle Dona Maria de Padilla sin CP: 41004 Sevilla, Spain
[email protected] ABSTRACT Systems theory can show us how organizations develop, allowing them to survive changes in their environments. Such analyses also demonstrate why the CNT is passing through such a profound crisis: it is a trade union which is completely excluded from the world of work. The CNT began in a society very different from today. Despite the many significant changes which have occurred since 1910, its organizational structures and ideological assumptions have remained practically unchanged. The need for change has not met with a common response from its mili tants. The CNT is currently split between two tendencies, which we will term 'anarchist' and 'syndicalist'. Despite a general consensus around the principle of non-participation in trade union representation structures, both tendencies compete for control of the CNT. We end this paper by presenting some exam ples from the Seville CNT, which can be classified as following the 'syndicalist' tendency: it has had some success in the context of the 'new capi talism'. INTRO DUCTION This article presents an analysis and a diagnosis of the CNT in Andalucia, using some theories and concepts of social anthropology. The CNT is a Spanish trade union organization inspired by anarchist ideas. Its ultimate objective is the radical transformation of society through a revolutionary process, but what really distinguishes it from other revolutionary organizations is its strategy: it aims to unite workers through the fight for better working conditions, to encourage awareness of different forms of domination - partic ularly of the exploitation of the working class - and thus to create a situation of social polarization which leads to a social-revolutionary general strike. These are the basic precepts of anarcho-syndicalism. In the sections which follow I will explain how the CNT works and how it \06
ANARCHISM, ANTHROPOLOGY AND ANDALUCIA is organized, considering its actions in the context of the work-place, the local environment and the international context (through the AIT [International Workers' Association)). 1 I will concentrate on the CNT in Andalucia, but I consider that my analysis can be applied to almost any branch of the CNT. Next, I will use some elements of systems theory to show how organizations establish links with their environments, and I will demonstrate that the recent transformations in the social context have led to a profound crisis within the CNT, which has shown a clear inability to adapt. Its successive congresses are little more than re-affirmations of ideas and organizational structures which may have worked in the past, when the CNT offered solutions to the workers' real problems. Here, we will conduct a SWOT analysis (strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, threats): a device which may provoke a much-needed debate. Lastly, I will show how the CNT Local Federation in Seville has been able to adapt partially to the new circumstances, despite many obstacles. The CNT could have a promising future, if it allowed the necessary revision of the presumptions which currently limit its potential. My main aim is to demonstrate how an anarcho-syndicalist organization can act to resolve the tension between - on the one hand - the heritage of modernity and industrial capitalism and - on the other hand - the need to survive in the context of flexibility, fragmentation and insecurity. I will also show that this 'new capitalism' may give the CNT an unprecedented opportu nity to recover its strength. To a great extent, everything depends on the CNT militants being able to accept changes and to resolve conflicts and dilemmas. Most of the information for this study has been gained from my own expe riences as a CNT militant for over ten years (in EI Puerto de Santa Maria, Granada and Seville), and from a range of CNT publications: pamphlets, books, internal bulletins, magazines, journals and web-sites. ANARCHIST ANTH ROPOLOGY AND THE ANTH ROPOLOGY OF ANARCHISM If we define anarchism as an extremely heterogeneous socio-political move ment whose ultimate aim is the elimination of all forms of social domination, then anthropology can be a valuable instrument in this task. Anthropology may make contributions in two distinct but complementary areas: anarchist anthro pology and the anthropology of anarchism. The roots of anarchist anthropology lie in the works of Kropotkin, and take as their starting-point the diversity of the political and cultural systems that exist and that have existed. Through the study of other cultures, it is clear that the state, the most sophisticated instrument of social domination, has not existed in all societies: indeed, for most of history, most societies have devel oped without the state, even against the state (Clastres, 1974; Barclay 1982). David Graeber's discussion ofa counter-power develops this point (2004). He \07
ANARCHIST STUDIES argues that a counter-power becomes a hegemonic force in societies without states, which are structured in such a way as to prevent - or at least to obstruct - the concentration of power. In other words, anarchist anthropology shows us the diversity of existing worlds in order to invite us to construct other worlds. An increasing number of anthropologists are working on such themes. Another great contribution of anarchist anthropology - although this insight is not limited to this field - is the unveiling of the manner in which social domi nation works. Here there are a great variety of studies from different disciplines and authors, many of whom do not identify themselves as anar chists, but who have still made significant contributions. I am thinking of, for example, the works of Michel Foucault (2000) on the prison system, of Pierre Bourdieu (2002) on masculine domination, of Felix Talego (1996) on the power of the leaders of an Andalucian labourers' organization, and of Fernando Ventura (2004) on state trade unions. The second contribution made by anthropology to anarchist theory is in the analysis of anarchist and popular movements, particularly in relation to the internal distribution of power: this constitutes an anthropology of anarchism. Anthropological research methods such as participant observation, semi-struc tured interviews, discussion groups, etc, are above all suited to researching organizations and movements, and - in particular - to researching processes like decision-making, power struggles, the construction of social links, symbolism, organizational culture and examples of what James e. Scott terms 'public transcript' and 'private transcript' (2003). An anthropology of anar chism would aim to develop alternative movements' self-knowledge and through this - to transform their practices, discourses and structures, so becoming more coherent and effective. This paper on the CNT is a good example of such an investigation. Other examples include the work of Paco Cuevas (2003) on libertarian pedagogy, David Graeber's article on the 'new anarchists' (2002), Maple Razsa's film Bastards of Utopia, Gavin Grindon's current research on contemporary social protests, or the classic work of Irving Horowitz (1975), a follower ofe. W right Mills. THE CNT: STRUCTURES AND ACTIVITIES The Spanish Civil War (1936-39) and the long Francoist winter which followed (1939-75) were hard blows to the Spanish anarchist tradition. The implementation of formal democracy in 1977 created great hopes for libera tion in much of Spanish society: such expectations were quickly frustrated. The 'Moncloa Pact' of 1977, signed by all social movements except the CNT, created the current system of union representation, with committees in each firm. The CCOO (Workers' Commissions: linked to the Communist Party) and the UGT (General Workers' Union: linked to the Socialist Party) used these structures to divide up worker representation between their organiza108
ANARCHISM, ANTHROPOLOGY AND ANDALUCIA tions. The CNT was bitterly split: one current decided to participate in work place union elections, while the other current firmly refused to take part. This led to an open rift a few years later, creating the current CNT and the CGT (General Confederation of Labour). In Spain today several organizations call themselves anarcho-syndicalist: including, for example, the CGT and Workers' Solidarity. The CNT distin guishes itself from them by its absolute refusal to participate in union elections, to receive state subsidies, or to accept in its ranks members of the security forces. For the CNT, the prevailing model of union representation and work-place elections is designed to integrate the unions into the social system, and therefore to control labour conflicts. The official unions - including the CGT - compete for posts on workplace committees, the official representative organ for the entire work-force, based on structures of representative democ racy. The CNT, on the other hand, defends direct democracy: it only recognizes a workers' assembly as having the right to represent the workforce. If the workers wish to negotiate with the bosses, then the workers' assembly must decide, through a show of hands, who is to be the delegate for this role, and what demands are to be made. The official work-place committees were created to free up trade unionists by allowing someone to be paid by the firm to be a full-time trade-unionist, and then to negotiate on behalf of the workers. The CNT argues that they will finish by becoming instruments by which the management will control and limit the workers' demands. According to the CNT, only its structures represent the anarcho-syndicalist principles of self management, mutual aid, federalism, direct action and internationalism (Federaci6n Local de Seville CNT-AIT, 1999). An organization's structure is the totality of all the forms of the division of labour, whether formal or informal, and all forms of coordination between them. The formal structure is created by the 'official, documented links between the different members of an organization' (Mintzberg, 1988: 34), and the informal structure is made up of extra-official links. Both structures are inter-linked to the point that it is often impossible to distinguish one from another. The totality of both structures constitute the organization's real struc ture. In the sections that follow, I will analyse both the CNT's informal and formal structures. The CNT's structure is supposed to reproduce a model of direct democracy. Its basic unit is the local union. To qualify as a 'Various Posts' (or 'Various Trades' ) branch, at least five members were needed. To be a 'branch union', which is a union of workers in the same field of activity (whether construc tion, metalworking, transport, communications, education and so on), twenty-five members are needed. Such a union can be divided into sections, each of which represents the CNT members in their workplaces. The union assembly is the supreme decision-making organ, and the unit which supports the whole organization. At regular intervals the UnIon 109
ANARCHIST STUDIES members meet in assembly to take decisions. They debate local, provincial, regional, national or international questions: this is an expression of the CNT's 'horizontal' principles. Before each assembly the members can propose matters to be debated. During the meetings they sit round a table: one member records the agenda, the different interventions, the debates and the decisions. The minutes of the previous assembly are read at the start of the meeting for the approval - or otherwise - of the members. Usually they are accepted without question, but sometimes further issues are raised, or poorly noted matters are re-drafted. It is very rarely that minutes are actually rejected. The assembly takes decisions by simple majority votes: these are registered by a show of hands. The same procedures, in a somewhat more formal and ritualized form, are used in the plenary sessions of the higher regional bodies. The unions in one place are linked through the Local Federation; the local federations through a Regional Confederation; the regional confederations through the National Confederation, which in turn is federated to the AIT (the International Workers' Association), which represents labour organizations from many European countries, plus some from Latin America. At the same time, the branch unions are - in theory - linked through national trade feder ations. It should be noted, however, that because of the CNT's small size, there are very few provincial or trade federations: Andalucia has none. Almost all the unions are 'Various Posts' sections. It is in these that decisions are made and that delegates are elected who then attend the regional plenary sessions. Here, all the union delegates from a region meet, usually after presenting a signed authorization from their branch secretary. Some unions, particularly the less active ones, usually send their resolutions - properly stamped by the branch - by fax to the Regional Committee or to the place that the Plenary session meets. Sometimes, when there is more than one union in a town, the delegate of one branch may bring the written resolution of another union from the same town. A secretary is elected at the Regional Plenary to take the minutes. In order to arrive at a decision, there is a system of internal commu nication known as the 'organic procedure' , by which the different committees send printed information to the unions. In turn, the committees receive written communications from the unions or other committees: when they have a suffi cient volume of such documents, or when an important matter arises which is to be discussed in subsequent meetings, the committees then send out collec tions of documents with an index and notes. The agendas of each meeting, and the explanation for each decision, are transmitted by this internal system. But often the unions do not read these documents: they arrive 'with a resolution' at the Plenary Sessions or they are granted a 'vote of confidence' , which allows delegates to decide in situ how they will vote. In the Regional and National Plenaries, unions are given voting rights proportional to their size. 110
ANARC HISM, ANTHROPOLOGY AND ANDALUCIA
members 1 to 50 51 to 100 101 to 300 301 to 600 601 to 1000 1001 to 1500 1501 to 2500 2501 and above
votes 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8
CNT UNIONS' V OTING RIG HTS AT PLENARIES This structure can give rise to anomalies. For example, if there were four unions, each with five members - in other words 20 people - they would get four votes at the Plenary meeting, and could in turn out-vote 299 people gath ered in a single union (3 votes). This system benefits the smaller unions at the expense of the bigger formations. Despite this, CNT members consider that it is fair, and cannot think of a better system. Proposals for reform have all been rejected, largely because the smaller unions fear a loss of influence. It should be noted that most of the unions in the CNT are 'Various Posts' branches with less than fifty members. The main branches, the unions, local federations, regional confederations and the national confederation are organized by officials. The branches and unions usually need a delegate, and sometimes a treasurer. The local federa tions - which are usually only formed by 'Various Posts' unions - are run by a number of officials, whose number vary according to the size of unions and the officials' availability: there can be general secretaries, organization secre taries, treasurers and others responsible for press and propaganda, law, union activities and social activities. This is a flexible structure: only the unions themselves can appoint new officials. Sometimes they merge existing tasks into a single post, sometimes they leave posts unfilled. Officials are unpaid. Unlike most other organizations, the CNT is marked by a tendency to discourage the appointment of officials. However, official posts still carry status and power, and so there can be internal struggles around them. As in all groups, in the CNT there are power struggles and contests to impose partic ular views of the world and of the organization. Competition for official posts, particularly at the regional and national levels, is an example of these types of struggles. Militants judge whether a particular committee is in the best posi tion to defend a particular ideological position. More precisely, it could be said that the CNT is currently split between two tendencies, one concentrating on the CNT's political role, which I will term 'anarchist' , and a second focused on its work-place role, which I will term 'syndicalist' . (I suspect that these tendencies have always been present within the CNT.) Almost all the unions in
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ANARCHIST STUDIES the CNT seem to be loyal to one or another of these tendencies. Their alle giance can be seen by the decisions they make, and by where delegates stand during meetings.2 The principal objective of the 'anarchist' tendency is to keep the CNT pure. For them, the main threat to the organization is reformism, represented by the other tendency, which they see as aiming to re-unite the CNT and the CGT, thus leading to the organization's integration into the social system and to its loss of revolutionary identity. One militant noted that a few marginal articles supporting unification had been published in the ent monthly. He commented: These proposals seem to come from the CGT, and have met with some response from a few CNT members, as these articles show. This uncalled-for campaign by the CGT in ent must be rejected by all CNT unions: a position which must be enforced by a Confederal ruling.3 As can be seen, such writers believe that there is a conspiracy between the CGT and some CNT militants to unify the two organizations, and then to make the CNT contest union elections and so lose its radical transformative char acter. This tendency sees a similar move at an international level, in the proposal to create a 'parallel International' to compete with the AIT for the international representation of anarcho-syndicalism. Some organizations, falsely labelled anarcho-syndicalist, simulate fake radical poses against the real anarcho-syndicalists. They have planned a strategy of harassment against the AIT ... Included in this mishmash of organ izations with international pretensions are the Swedish SAC, the Paris-based so-called CNT (Vignoles) and the Spanish CGT. These are the main authors of this ghastly error: they represent few workers and no libertarians.4 For such writers, the main cause of the CNT's failure is the CGT's split from the organization, from which the CNT has not recovered. This split, they argue, was planned and implemented by the Communist Party and other Marxist and statist groups. A characteristic aspect of this tendency is its militant refusal to participate in any activity with other organizations. According to one militant: We could see the CNT - and sometimes we have seen it - with hundreds and thousands of acronyms, such as Pp, PRT, IU, SOC, BNG, CUT, CGT, the Students' Union, Alternative Action, LAB, etc ... Trotskyist leaders, marxoids, born-again has-beens, money-grubbing greens ... people who are used to life on a union subsidy, using their accumulated hours to seize the leadership of a section.5 Against this tendency, there is the other current that we have labelled 'syndi calist'. These militants are concerned that internal errors have led the CNT to its current position of marginality within the labour force. They argue that the
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ANARCHISM, ANTHROPOLOGY AND ANDALUCIA key weakness has been the CNT's inability to campaign as a union. The CNT should make union activities its priority, and leave other issues to better-suited organizations. Anarcho-syndicalism needs to be re-defined for the twenty-first century. In order to win work-place struggles, temporary alliances with other organizations may well be needed. One point which distinguishes the two tendencies is the type of leaders they present. Within the 'anarchist' tendency the 'charismatic' leader is predomi nant, while the syndicalist unions tend to encourage 'bureaucratic administrative' leaders. Charismatic leaders have strong personalities and know how to deal with people, but their main distinguishing feature is that they mediate effectively between the members of an organization and the beliefs which hold the organization together. A charismatic leader is someone with a vision of a future society, who is capable of transmitting this vision to the mili tants: in other words, a 'prophet' . The bureaucratic leader is an 'organization person' : someone who can be replaced, as it is the organization that mediates between the community of the believers and the sacred (Talego, 1996). Their power comes from their ability to organize and administer. They are 'priests' rather than 'prophets' . Obviously, both these descriptions are Weberian ideal types: neither exists in a pure state; there is a continuum between the two extremes. Moreover, a single leader can possess qualities of both types, and sometimes one even finds a type of 'mixed leadership' , which is probably the most effective. However, it remains true that one is more likely to find the more 'charismatic' leaders among the 'anarchist' tendency and the 'administrative' leaders among the 'syndicalist' tendency. It should also be noted that not all unions have leaders, although in every union there are people with a degree of power and influence, whether this is based on their experience, knowledge, personality, speaking skills, social contacts, dedication, etc. In fact, a well organized leadership is the key to an effective union. In other words, there is a certain type of power structure within anarcho syndicalism. If this power is properly organized, it is neither anti-democratic nor harmful: just the opposite, it can produce positive organizational effects. Anti-democratic influences from the leadership are only produced in the absence of the proper institutional control mechanisms: a point to which we will return later. The struggle between the two tendencies is present at all levels of the CNT, and is sometimes expressed through dramatic clashes. Both tendencies present their positions as faithful interpretations of the sacred texts (statutes and congress resolutions), both attempt to occupy official posts, both are suspi cious of the other, both challenge resolutions, both denounce (in public and in private), insult, disparage: .. creating clashes that, sometimes, completely stop the organization functioning. Many militants leave in frustration. The worst aspect of this situation is that both tendencies are living an illusion, as can be seen within the CNT in Andalucia.
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ANARCHIST STUDIES THE CNT IN ANDALUCIA TODAY Before the Civil War of 1936-39, the two regions with the largest CNT pres ence were Catalonia and Andalucia. While Catalonia was a highly industrialized region with an advanced, skilled working class, Andalucia was an agricultural region, mainly populated by labourers and peasants. Today, the extent of the CNT's support is still shaped by that past. The regions with the greatest density of CNT unions are Catalonia and Andalucia. The regions with the largest numbers of CNT members are the Centre (Madrid and surrounding area), the North ( Basque Country), Andalucia, and Catalonia (including the Balearic Isles): in other words, the most populated areas. Andalucian towns and cities with CNT unions are: Adra, Almeria, Arahal, Cadiz, Cordoba, EI Puerto de Santa Maria, Fernan Nunez, Granada, Huelva, Jaen, Jerez de la Frontera, La Linea de la Concepcion, La Puebla del Rio, Lebrija, Malaga, Motril, Pedrera, Puerto Real, Sevilla, Ubeda, V elez de Benaudalla and Villacarrillo. There are also isolated individuals and inactive unions in: Algeciras, Sanlucar, Torreperogil, Lora del Rio, Arcos de la Frontera, Dos Hermanas, Linares, Porcuna and Castro del Rio. Despite the obvious importance of possessing union premises, in many towns there are none. In Cordoba, Sevilla, Pedrera, Arahal and Puerto Real the CNT has offices. In some of these, such as in Seville or Pedrera, the premises have been bought with money from the CNT National Committee, using the 'Historical Heritage' funds.6 Here, the unions are committed to paying back the funds to the CNT, which will then help other unions. It is understood as an interest-free loan. Unfortunately, the re-payments are often delayed, and some unions simply do not pay. The CNT in Lebrija, Fernan Nunez, EI Puerto and La Linea all use prem ises obtained through the 'Historical Heritage' programme. In some cases, these were offices returned to the CNT in the late 1970s. In others, the build ings are still subject to dispute, and have been occupied in order to allow them to be used as functioning union offices, and as a means of putting pressure on the government. In Adra, Jerez, Granada and Almeria the CNT shares 'Collective Union Heritage' premises. These are buildings that were seized during the Civil War, and whose owners cannot be identified. They are therefore available for unions and other labour organizations, and are shared. In Cadiz and Malaga the CNT rents premises. In both towns, the unions have difficulty in paying the rent, and have recently requested financial assis tance from the National Committee. In Motril, Huelva, Jaen, La Puebla, Algeciras, Lora, Linares, Porcuna, Sanlucar, Ubeda, V elez, Castro and Torreperogil the CNT does not possess any premises. As well as unions and CNT groups, there are a large number of anarchist groups in Andalucia, many of them formed by young people, and a number of
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ANARCHISM, ANTHROPOLOGY AND ANDALUCIA squatted social centres: these are usually in contact with the CNT. It is diffi cult to keep track of these often-ephemeral groups. For example, in 2000 there were FIJL (Iberian Libertarian Youth Federation) groups in EI Puerto de Santa Maria, Puerto Real, Huelva, Granada and Malaga. They have since disap peared. There are other youth and student groups in Cadiz (the Leviathan group), in San Fernando, Jerez, Granada (La Yesca), Seville and so on. Such activism can also be cultural in character: there are Libertarian Cultural Centres in Granada, Jerez and Seville, plus other squatted centres in Granada, Malaga and two in Seville. These draw in activists from a wide spectrum of groups, from Andalucian nationalists to anarchists more or less linked to the CNT. There is also a bookshop in Seville, and plans for a self-managed library in Granada. Lastly, there are very many small stalls, selling fanzines, books and music, above all punk music: some them distribute anarchist material within small, closed, counter-cultural circuits. The CNT's links with these networks are very varied. For a while, it was very close to the FIJL and the cultural centres. It could be said these groups gravitate towards the CNT, that they all come into its zone of intluence, and that the CNT recruits many of its new militants from these networks. But with some of them, relations are quite strained, and there have been some clashes. This distance has grown in recent years, following the rise of new currents of anarchism such an insurrectionalism, situationism, primitivism, etc, which have all been popular among young people more concerned to identify themselves with a certain marginal lifestyle than to help develop a viable socio-political movement. Despite the CNT's presence in many towns and cities, it only attracts a small number of militants. For obvious strategic reasons, most Spanish polit ical parties and unions do not publish membership figures. However, one can gain an approximate estimate of the CNT's strengths from the figures given to the CNT National Plenary: this suggests that there are less than a thousand members in Andalucia. In most of the region's towns, there only exists a 'Various Posts' CNT union, with between five and twenty members. CNT unions in Pedrera, Puerto Real, Cordoba and Adra are bigger, but it is only in Granada and Seville that the CNT has been able to create a Local Federation, formed of different unions, and with more than a hundred members. In Granada there were three CNT unions: 'Various Posts' , Public Services and Education. In Seville, there was just one 'Various Posts' union which also acted as Local Federation. Until recently, it only competed for a few posts on the Regional Committee as it was less concerned about voting power than about the endless costs of union activism. However, the conflicts between the CNT tendencies began to interest the Seville Federation, and it attempted to gather more union dues in order to increase its voting power. Recently this Local Federation agreed an expansion strategy, aiming to form new branch unions, whose composition is still to be determined, in areas such as transport, cleaning, public services, education and so on. The process of forming these
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ANARCHIST STUDIES new branches has been slower than expected: although some new members joined very quickly, the Local Federation decided to allow them time to learn about the CNT's principles and practices. The Regional Committee was elected in a Regional Plenary, with voting rights accorded as presented in the table above. The Regional Committee is currently based in Granada. Its election was an occasion for contests between the 'anarchist' and 'syhdicalist' tendencies. According to some of the 'syndi calists' , the FAI (the Iberian Anarchist Federation) played an important role in these contests. Discussing the FAI is controversial, as it is a secret organiza tion. It is not known exactly who belongs to it: only one or two CNT members in Andalucia openly acknowledge their membership. But this matter is discussed informally among CNT militants: rumours circulate. Most of the boldest militants in the 'anarchist' tendency are assumed to be FAI members. However, it is also said that the FAI has recently expelled the most intransigent supporters of the 'anarchist' tendency, possibly a sign that the suspicions of the 'syndicalists' are false. although it is also said that the FAI has recently expelled the most intransigent supporters of the 'anarchist' tendency, possibly a sign that it is moving towards a more conciliatory position. The key point here is that most of the 'syndicalists' do not oppose the FAI's principles and aims: they actually share them, and they accept the need for secrecy. But the 'syndicalists' do detect a certain ideological pressure. For example, when returning from a Regional Plenary, members of different unions belonging to the 'syndicalist' tendency had the following discussion about resolutions from the 'anarchist' tendency. (All names have been changed.) Manola:
'Did you notice how the Cadiz union, the teachers of Granada, the 'Various Posts' of Granada, Motril and La Puebla all said almost exactly the same thing at each point on the agenda?' Ramon: 'My God! That's true. They must have discussed it before the meeting, to arrive a common position.' Eustaques: 'Those FAI people are extraordinary! I can't believe they would have done that!'
At times of internal conflict and personal rivalry for CNT offices it becomes very easy to see who belongs to which tendency. Some unions are uncertain at first, but eventually they move to one side or the other. The mediating power of these delegates is crucial: the same role is played by some prominent CNT members who are said to be FAI members, and who enjoy prestige and respect among the 'syndicalist' faction. This polarization is a result of a tension produced by the need to adapt. Organizations are systems in a specific context: they must adapt to the context in order to survive. The need to adapt brings organizations to crises, in which their members offer solutions. Both tendencies are doing this. Unfortunately, 116
ANARCH ISM, ANTHROPOLOGY AND ANDALUCIA not all solutions are equally viable: some are objectively better than others in the sense that they can aid adaptation and, consequently, further the organiza tion's aims. Other solutions just make things worse. Fortunately, the ideological polarization in the CNT is not nearly as serious as it seems. It is not really a product of different ideologies, but more a result of personal rivalries and power struggles. The great fear of t�e 'anarchists' is that the CNT will join the official framework of the other unions and so become an instrument of the social system. The main aim of the 'syndicalists' is to make the organization address the workers' real problems: but at no point have they proposed contesting the official workplace elections. The other great fear of the 'anarchists' is that the 'syndicalists' seek the re-unification of the CGT and the CNT, thus giving them access to the CGT's contacts. The example of the CNT in Andalucia suggests that this fear is entirely without foundation. Neither the leaders, nor the ordinary members among the 'syndicalist' unions are in contact with the CGT leaders, and in most cases they do not even know who they are. Beneath the apparent polarization within the CNT there is a real political consensus that many do not wish to see. The giants really are windmills, not conspiracies. The crisis is only a result of power and a crisis of adaptation. THE CRISIS OF A DAPTATION: O RGANIZATIONS AS SYSTEMS The general theory of systems is an extremely useful tool for the study of organizations. It involves seeing organizations as a totality of elements linked to each other, forming a whole. In the social sciences, systems theory has mainly been applied to the business sector and to public administration, but it has rarely been used to analyse alternative movements. Drawing on the insights of Bacharah and Lawler (1980) concerning power, I consider that the principal challenge for both old and new social movements is to synthesize the insights of systems theory and radical politics. The CNT can be understood as a system created by the totality of links between its various components (militants, members, sections, committees, etc). Its environment is Spanish society, which is in turn a part of a global capi talist environment. Every system exists in an environment with which it maintains contact through material, energy and information. The survival of any system depends on its success in communicating with its environment. For example, a plant takes in light, water, nutrition, oxygen, carbon dioxide, etc. It could be argued that the CNT proposes to transform the environment, to revolutionize it, and that therefore its survival depends on the environment's adaptation to its demands. This is completely mistaken. As fanebianco (J 990) notes, all organizations must seek a balance between adaptation to their envi ronments and domination over them: if not, they will never achieve their ends. In the communication between system and environment there are four deci117
ANARCHIST STUDIES sive factors. These are: the complexity of the system; the uncertainty of the environment; the system's capacity to adapt; and the environment's sensitivity (Wagensberg, 1985). A system is complex when it can access several different forms: that is to say, when it possesses several different possibilities of adap tive transformation in response to changes in the environment. But adaptability is something quite different from adaptation. In fact, the more a system is adapted to a particular environment, the less able it is to adapt to changes. The environment's 'uncertainty' refers to the number of forms which could develop within a particular environment. The greater the uncertainty, the more difficult it is for a system to adapt to changes and to reach a stable posi tion of balance: to survive. The next factor, the system's ability to anticipate, can also be understood as the system's capacity to recognize, as quickly as possible, changes in the environment, in order to reach a new, more flexible form. The more effective the ability to anticipate, the more likely the system is to survive external changes. Finally, the environment also is sensitive: it can adopt forms in response to the system's action towards it. When one of these four factors changes, the other three must re-adjust. The adapting to these factors is the basis of independence, the key to evolution. Wagensberg (2000) notes that systems tend to preserve their independence in three ways:
Passive independence: when the system becomes impermeable to communi cation with the outside environment 11. A cti ve independence: the system communicates with the environment in order to create a stable, but unbalanced, form. If the environment grows uncertain, the system attempts to retain its independence by increasing its capacity to anticipate, or by influencing and changing the environment iii. Creative independence: increasing the complexity of the system in the face of an uncertainty in the environment. This is evolution.
1.
The system must adapt. If this does not happen the system enters into crisis, in which the system may disappear, or re-organize itself. Applying these ideas to the CNT allows us to understand its position in the current context more clearly than a focus on external circumstances such as forms of mass communication, splits, consumer society and the loss of workers' rights. It is due - to some extent - to internal characteristics, which the CNT can control, that it has entered into crisis, and become a marginalized union organization. FACING AN UNCERTAIN ENVIRONMENT This essay's central argument is that the CNT was formed in a specific envi ronment - early twentieth-century Spain - and following radical changes in
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ANARCHISM, ANTHROPOLOGY AND ANDALUCIA that environment, the organization has not been able to analyse those changes coherently. Therefore, it has been unable to adapt. It has not successfully communicated with its environment, and so has not arrived at its aim of radi cally transforming its environment in a different direction. It lacks the necessary political concepts to recognize what is happening in its environ ment. Here, concepts are like glasses: if they are badly adjusted, we will be incapable of noting changes, and so be unable to act. Industrial societies have experienced two principal types of change. In political terms, we have encountered what Isidoro Moreno (2002) calls 'the collapse of the pillars of modernity' .1 The first of these pillars is the belief that scientific and technological progress will produce an endless economic devel opment. The environmental limits to that model of development show the hollowness of that Enlightenment myth. The second fallen pillar is the faith in the advance of reason, understood as the progressive decline in the value of religions and theological explanations. The survival of traditional religions, the emergence of new religious movements, and the development of non-reli gious concepts of the sacred all call into question this modernist illusion. The third pillar was the idea of an increasingly uniform culture. Of course, contem porary globalization does impose a consumer society across the planet. However, it is being strongly challenged by localization and re-affirmations of identity. The fourth and last pillar is the belief in a single motor of social change. For liberals, this is the individual, for Marxists, social class and class struggle. Today it is recognized that multiple agents produce social change: individuals, ethnic groups, forces of gender, religious minorities, workers often in fragmented groups - employees, and so on: in other words, individ uals and collective agents, workers and non-workers. The collapse in modernity's pillars has challenged the validity of modern political programmes, particularly those of liberalism and socialism, which must now re-consider their ideas.8 For unions, the most significant changes are those concerning production. According to Richard Sennet (2004), we are witnessing the beginning of a 'new capitalism', a step in which the economic system changes its exercise of power radically. The stability and regularity of Fordist labour gives way to post-Fordism, characterized by flexibility. The new type of power is distin guished by three elements: an irregular re-invention of institutions, the flexible specialization of production, and a concentration without a centralization of power. In this context, Sennet considers that irreversible changes take place in the structure of firms, that production becomes orientated towards the more varied and faster creation of goods and services, stressing innovation and tech nological specialisms, and that the development and diffusion of new information technologies make possible new, more efficient forms of surveil lance: in other words, what Foucault terms social panopticonism. Sennet shows that such changes in the field of production have dreadful 119
ANARCHIST STUDIES consequences for the personality and identity of the workers (Bezos, 2005). Union organizatiqns must, therefore, find new responses to meet these new challenges. The first step is to spend some time and effort in analysing these changes. In this way we can take stock of the situation, and can find the equi librium point between innovation and tradition. WEAKNESSES, THREATS, STRENGTHS AND OPPORTUNITIES A SWOT analysis can help us understand the CNT's situation.9 It would be useful to research this using participatory methodology, such as PIA (Participatory Investigation-Action), in which militants themselves collec tively debate and complete the SWOT assessment. In place of such a full investigation, here are some ideas which may be useful: Weaknesses Absence of theoretical reflection • Self-exclusion from the official structures of union representation • Bureaucratization • Ineffective social marketing •
Threats Declining value of work in the formation of identity • Individualized forms of labour negotiation • Importance of finance capital • Repression •
Strengths • Autonomous i Ijstitutions • Flexible socio-political proposals • Participatory organizational structure • High level of involvement by social base and membership Opportunities Transformations in production process • New technologies • Crisis of representative democracy • Development of critical thinking •
In the section on 'weaknesses', I have listed those aspects of the CNT which prevent it from accomplishing its goals. There are quite a few of these! The first is the absence of theoretical reflection. The type of analysis presented by the CNT has barely changed from the time when it started: it still uses the same concepts and theoretical formulations. Society, on the other hand, has 1 20
ANARCHISM, ANTHROPOLOGY AND ANDALUCIA changed immensely. The gap between the instruments of analysis and the social reality is at the root of a serious inability to recognize changes in the environment and to adapt to them. A clear example of this can be seen in the CNT's publications, the majority of which concern the history of the workers' movement, with hardly any analysis of contemporary issues. They continue to refer to Bakunin, Kropotkin and Malatesta, as if their thoughts were immortal, and not produced by a specific historical and cultural context. The major advances in the social sciences have been largely ignored by anarcho-syndicalism. With few exceptions, anarchism has usually been pushed to the margins of academic life, and it has paid a price for this. David Graeber (2004) explains this marginalization as a result of the anarchists' antipathy for authoritarian institutions, and the primacy of praxis over theo retization within anarchist political culture. But only those who are capable of giving coherent explanations of reality will be capable of changing it. If the CNT does not have the instruments to understand the world around it, it is condemned to fail. The example of the analysis of power in anarchism is revealing. Modernity's child, anarchism constitutes a specific radicalization of liber alism, and so presents a reductive vision of power, which Foucault terms 'legal-discursive': for anarchism, power is simply repression. Anarchists argue that power is something which simply prevents and blocks, while forgetting that power can also create things, construct and reward. Foucault notes that the concept of power 'as a simple limit to freedom is, in our society at least, the most frequent form of its acceptability' (Foucault 1 984: 1 05). Holding this distorted concept of power leads to an inability to recognize where it is mani fested and, therefore, to oppose it. More concretely: power is a taboo token in the CNT. It is usually argued that there are no power structures in the organization. This is completely wrong: all human groups are constructed through power relations. What is more: the CNT unions function well largely because of the leadership provided by particular militants. To argue this way is not to throw anarcho syndicalist principles overboard, but to recognize that a properly-functioning power structure can be highly valuable if it is subject to popular control and the mechanisms of direct democracy. The second weakness is the CNT's self-exclusion from the official struc tures of union representation. As noted above, the CNT does not present candidates to union elections. As a result, it has been excluded from the trade union world. If during the 'transition' (1 975-78) the CNT had fully joined these structures, it might have gained a larger membership and greater influ ence. On the other hand, the organization might have lost its identity and have become integrated into the networks of social reproduction: in other words, it might have lost its transformative, revolutionary character. \0 The CNT's third weakness is excessive bureaucratization. To organize 121
ANARCHIST STUDIES anything more than a small group within an ultra-democratic structure needs incredible strengths. Even more so when officials get no financial rewards. To decide even the most trivial issues through the structures of direct democracy, through the regular publication of 'organic' information bulletins, assemblies and meetings which can go on forever due to militants' lack of knowledge: all this results in a massive workload for the most involved and a consequent 'bum-out' or saturation in the medium term. The fourth and final weakness is the ineffective forms of publicity, perhaps a consequence of the first weakness. Both the forms of communication pamphlets, leaflets, spray-painted graffiti - and their content - slogans, speeches, messages - fail to produce the desired effect among those who see them. Perhaps the written word was once capable of rousing the masses to revo lution, but this is no longer the case. If we really want to publicize labour conflicts and to circulate a clear message, we must use the seductive techniques of the 'society of the spectacle'. It would be better to draw a few lessons from advertising and 'social marketing', and to question the fetishism of the red and black, and the repetition of coarse, aggressive, out-dated propaganda. The same criticisms can be made for the content of the CNT's publications: they normally address themes which the majority of workers do not find interesting. The leaflets go straight in the bin. In general, CNT members seems to be well-inten tioned activists who do not speak the same language as those they intend to motivate and - despite denials - they are not able to recognize the true interests of those they claim to defend. The confusion of anarcho-syndicalism with youth sub-cultures - such as punk - often alienates workers. Another sign of the failure of the CNT's 'social marketing' can be seen in its premises. The organization's centres are its door to the outside world, and should demonstrate how serious and effective it is. Instead, union premises are filthy and untidy. The worker in a labour dispute who goes to a CNT office will often leave in despair, thinking that these people can never help. Such were my first impressions of - for example - the untidy CNT premises in EI Puerto de Santa Maria, the CNT offices of Seville until a few years ago, and the great cycle of CNT meetings in Granada during my stay there in 1 998200 I - despite the best efforts of one militant to ensure that the premises had an acceptable appearance. I f these weaknesses concern the system's properties, the 'threats' refer to qualities in the environment which may make the CNT enter into crisis. One of the great obstacles to union activity in general has been the loss of prestige in work as a factor in identity formation. Growing social complexity, and a consequent fragmentation, with the division of life into separate compart ments, have resulted in the decline of 'work cultures' as a key element in personal identity (Palenzuela, 1 995). As well as older identity formations gender, ethnicity, work (and class) - today there a host of other structures: lifestyles, religions, sexualities, youth cults, even football clubs. 122
ANARCHISM, ANTHROPOLOGY AND ANDALUCIA Another threat to trade unions is the tendency towards individual negotia tions for labour contracts: this is certainly what many managers want. Deregulation and - above all - the stress on flexibility have created conditions which establish direct negotiations between the individual worker and the management. The short-term effects of this cannot be predicted. However, it can only create greater divisions between workers from different sectors between those chosen by personnel and those from an auxiliary firm, between those on temporary contracts and those who are permanent. The unity of the work force was once a major strength for the unions: today, that unity is seri ously threatened. The growing importance of finance capital over productive capital is also problematic. Economists estimate that more than half of the funds in the world are located in the structures of finance capitalism: from investments that are not directly a part of the production process. The labour movement's one great weapon used to be the strike: its refusal to participate in production. As the global economy becomes less dependent on the production of goods and serv ices, then it follows that the labour movement's ability to influence the direction of the economy is correspondingly more limited than ever. Lastly, a threat which must be considered is repression. Historical research shows that a favourable legal climate encourages union membership and strike action. Hostile laws discourage union activities. Such points provide some explanation for the decline in unions: for example, from 1 991 to 1998 the number of strikes fell from 1552 to 6 1 8. The number of workers mobilized by these strikes fell from 3.8 million to 1 .9 million. I I In the 1990s the legal context grew more hostile, as labour reforms were implemented and tempo rary contracts became more common. Despite these many obstacles which face all unions, not everything is nega tive. The CNT possesses a number of significant strengths and opportunities which, if acted on, could greatly benefit the organization. The CNT's great strength is its autonomy from government institutions. It does not need public funding: this is an excellent guarantee of its independence, and makes it far less vulnerable to changes in the wider environment. The other union organi zations, whose leaders are paid by the firms and whose huge structures are subsidized by public funds, only present a highly questionable form of inde pendence. They often make decisions in the interests of their pay-masters rather than in the interests of the workers. Many workers have lost confidence in unions for this reason: the massive abstention rates in the union elections are the most obvious sign of this discontent. On the other hand, it must be recognized that the CNT's autonomy also leads to some major drawbacks, mainly a lack of resources. Its only source of incomes is its members' payments: as these are few in number, the CNT lacks funds. To organize a union and to keep it running costs money: there must be premises, office equipment, computers, phones, internet connections, cleaning equipment, 123
ANARCHIST STUDIES lawyers, propaganda, etc. Members' dues are not enough to cover these costs. Many methods are used to raise more funds: material is taken from work, there are appeals for donations, benefit concerts and other events, merchandise (cigarette lighters, badges, calendars, diaries, etc) is sold, particular unions or federations raise their dues, and so on. Obviously, the efforts of members to raise funds must be applauded but, if they have been partly successful, they have not solved the problem. There are many CNT unions without premises, without internet links, without a telephone number. Many are barely able to carry out the most basic tasks of propaganda and co-ordination: it is simply impossible to expect these bodies to engage in significant union activism. The CNT's second strength is the flexibility of its political culture, which can be adapted to different contexts. The model of a libertarian society is not fixed and eternal. While some cling to the early twentieth-century plans of Isaac Puente, each social group can redefine a libertarian society according to its particular aspirations and cultural characteristics. Adaptability should be the foundation for the international diffusion of anarchist culture. On the other hand, if - as some argue - anarchism is a rigid socio-political project, rooted in western, Judeo-Christian thought, it is doomed to fail. Another great strength is the CNT's ultra-democratic structures. The new social movements have rejected the vertical hierarchies of Marxist organiza tions, and have adopted participatory structures, which they often consider to be 'new'. Perhaps they are new to activists drawn from tightly-structured polit ical and religious groups, but the CNT has been working with such structures for years. While many people want more participation in their societies, the official unions engage in ever-greater concentrations of power. If the CNT's participatory structure was presented in an appropriate manner - an attractive, non-aggressive manner - it could be seen as an appealing alternative to the dominant unions. However, we must also realize that a structure which appears democratic is not necessarily a structure which functions in a democratic manner. I regret to say that in the CNT frequently decisions are taken on the basis of personal influence or by tiny cliques in strategic positions of power. (We will return to this point.) For the moment, let us simply note that the formal structures of the CNT support the participation of all its members. The final strength is the high degree of commitment by the CNT's base. In comparison with other organizations, the large proportion of activists among the CNT's members is surprising. It can be explained by the organization's participatory structures and political culture, which encourage activism, teaching members that all of them are important to the organization, that the CNT needs them, and that its collective project is impossible without their cooperation. Its meetings and assemblies all function as more or less explicit appeals to the members for their commitment. The members' passion and engagement are the main reason why the CNT, with all its weaknesses, survives as an organization. 124
ANARCHISM, ANTHROPOLOGY AND ANDALUCIA 'Opportunities' are those elements in the environment which the CNT can use to solve its crisis. In this sense, the current changes in the work process constitute an opportunity. Here, I am not arguing that the worsening conditions of work, brought about by neo-liberalism, will make the workers more likely to revolt. This is far from certain. Instead, I wish to focus on the tendency of firms to contract out, or to sub-contract, activities. Tasks which once would have been carried out within a firm with a vast labour force, are now done by a multitude of businesses around a central firm. In theory, this is a factor which divides the workers, leaving them less protected when facing their employers. However, there is an opportunity here for the CNT. In Spain, the great Fordist firms, with thousands of employees, have union representation committees. With a few exceptions, the CNT sections cannot compete with the other unions which therefore get to represent the workers. But, for better or worse, these firms are in rapid decline (Baglioni, 1 992). Most workers with a permanent contract, who constitute a type of 'labour aristocracy', are being paid off into early retirement. The structure of the big firms is changing radi cally: the old firm is being reduced to a central core within which the residue of the labour aristocracy work, while a network of small, sub-enterprises develops around it, performing specific tasks and auxiliary services. This is the type of structure that Manuel Castells ( 1 997: 269) has identified as the 'network firm'. Such small sub-enterprises, contracted and sub-contracted, have mushroomed with astonishing speed. They usually only employ young people, who work in insecure positions: without protection, on temporary contracts, for extremely low wages, part-time, etc. They suffer from a high accident rate, and are often bullied and harassed. We are seeing the creation of a new sector within the working class: the insecure. It is a highly dispersed sector, spread over wide areas. Continual changes in work patterns, whether in moving from one firm to another or from one post to another, mean that such workers never get to share a common identity. A UGT report found that Spain has one of the highest proportions of temporary work in Europe: about a third of the work force is work part-time, especially the young, the immigrants and women. Political and business leaders claim that this transformation is due to the high cost of pensions. But of all the countries of the EU, Spain has the lowest pension levels and yet has high levels of part-time work. The real challenge to the CNT is to respond to this sector's needs: to learn how to connect with these workers' fears, wishes and frustrations, and to inte grate their interests with those of other sectors of the working class. The opportunity here for the CNT is not that these people are 'unhappy', but that the official unions are less active in such workplaces. As the CCOO (200 I ) has recognized, the dispersion of work-place negotiations, linked to the neo-liberal tendency to individualize contracts, has created a vacuum in union represen tation. In the first place, these small sub-enterprises are often ignored by the big unions. Furthermore, most of their workers are not unionized. And yet, 125
ANARCHIST STUDIES they are often extremely concerned by the lack of respect for their rights and by their workplace conditions. In these small firms, communication between employees and unions are very simple: a union branch can be established with just a handful of workers, and it can quickly insist that no negotiations progress without its participation. The CNT's model of union activism, which has largely failed in the big firms, could work extremely well among this sub contracted work force. (We will return to this point below.) The development and extension of new technologies opens up opportuni ties for the CNT. These methods could make communication, co-ordination and decision-making far easier for the CNT, which spends so much time and effort on such matters now. The organization has made some advances in this area, but there is still a long way to go. The new technologies should make tasks much easier, they could aid the education of militants - although there is some risk that they could also encourage the formation of a learned elite, benefiting from a certain degree of power. It has to be said that the CNT is still very weak in organizing education and communicating knowledge: training is limited to an ideological indoctrination, ignoring all specialist and scientific issues, such as legal proceedings, information technology, collective negotia tion procedures, union activities, accountancy, etc. A third opportunity for the CNT is 'democracy fatigue' and the 'participa tion syndrome'. At least in terms of public debate, many people are calling for a fuller form of democracy. In most cases, such calls are not presented as part of a programme of rupture with representative democracy, but as a means to complement it. Such movements do not call into question the mechanisms of social hegemony, but they have led to the so-called 'participatory syndrome', in which ideas such as 'participatory projects', 'participatory research' and 'co operation in participatory development' circulate. Now is the right moment to exploit this old theme in the CNT's political culture, and to propose a 'partici patory unionism' in response to the vertical hierarchies of the official unions. Lastly, the growth of critical thinking and new social movements, linked to the previous factor, is a great strength for the CNT. The deepening of north-south inequality, the USA's invasions and the world-wide ecological threat have all provoked the emergence of new forms of critical thinking and of global citizens' movements. The CNT must make contact with all these initiatives, building up a real flow of exchanges: it must communicate its values and its experiences of participatory democracy, direct action, self management and so on; it must learn new values and new sensibilities from the other movements. Some have argued that the single distinguishing mark of the modern era is the development of dispersed, fragmentary networks (Hardt, 2002: 140). In the CNT, social action appears as a marginal, rarely-discussed activity. Thus, for example, there is no social action secretariat in Seville. But it is clear that no contemporary socio-political project can be effective today without building 126
ANARCH ISM, ANTHROPOLOGY AND ANDALUCIA up temporary, fluid alliances and links, which require ceaseless dialogue and re-examination. The feminist movement was the first to recognize this point (Haraway, 1995). Thanks to the feminist, ecologist, sexual-minority, global ization movements and to radical academics, we can envision and resist power-structures more effectively. DEVELOPING OPPORTUNITIES AND ORGANIZATION I N THE SEVILLE CNT Early in 2002 a group of workers approached the Seville CNT. They wanted advice. They worked for PILSA, a firm contracted to the public cleaning department in Tomares, a town near Seville. They lacked all job security: they were paid less than five hundred euros per month for a forty-hour week, with delays in payments, and poor health and safety conditions. The CNT held several meeting with the entire workforce of 25 employees, gave them legal advice and, finally, created a CNT section including almost all the workforce. An indefinite strike was called in April. During the strike, all the forces of the CNT Local Federation concentrated on publicity, contacts with the media, organizing pickets, legal action concerning infringements of the right to strike, and so on. The CNT organized support from its regional and national federations. Many clashes followed but after a 22 day strike, the CNT signed a contract with the FERROSER firm and the Tomares municipality, and the dispute ended. The new contract guaranteed improvements for the workers: many saw their wages double, and they were given continuity of employment even if different firms were contracted for cleaning services. The Tomares strike made the Seville CNT re-consider its role: it was a moment when it stopped being an ideological group to become a proper union. They were forced to stop talking about ideas and abstract issues, and to confront the real problems of real workers. They had to propose viable, imme diate solutions. This led the Local Federation to re-think its strategy radically. The next year the Tomares workers began another strike, because much of the signed contract was being flouted by the employers, and the most militant workers were being threatened with dismissal. This second strike lasted four months - it was actually the second longest strike in Seville since 1 975 - and was marked by some angry clashes. The strikers confronted the police, some of them went on hunger strike, they began many costly legal actions, they organized numerous protests, they held meetings, they set up benefit events for the families across the whole of Spain. In fact, the town was never so clean as it was during the strike: the municipality and the sub-contracted firm hired scab labour to clean Tomares. Nonetheless, the strikers won, and a new collec tive contract guaranteed them better conditions. There was enormous media interest in the event. 127
ANARCHIST STUDIES After the Tomares events, the Seville CNT organized three further strikes concerning similar issues: strike of AVE air-stewardesses, a cleaners' strike in Seville University, and a strike by the workers on AUSSA, a firm running some transport services in Seville. In all three cases, the workers won, and in each case a new CNT section was formed. Furthermore, in recent years the Seville CNT has actively supported strikes organized by other unions, and has organized a weekly advice centre for workers. The union's records indicate that membership has increased by 300%. If this tendency continues, the Seville CNT will soon represent a real social force. This is not an example of a lucky set of coincidences, but the result of several factors. One of the most important is that the CNT organization in Seville is led by workers, and the number of students and young people is rela tively small. But perhaps most important is the quality of the leadership, which is far closer to the 'bureaucratic-administrative' model than to that of the 'charismatic'. The Seville CNT is led by a small group of militants, the majority of whom are well-experienced in running a union. They are well acquainted with legal questions, which are central to the union's activities. In other words, they have developed a 'professionalization without profes sionals' .12 In terms of my analysis, the Seville CNT has begun to confront its weaknesses, to neutralize the threats, to build on its strengths, and to seize opportunities. If this experience is repeated in other unions, the CNT will begin to challenge the hegemony of the official unions. ENDNOTES 1 . In the UK the Solidarity Federation is affiliated to the AIT: despite certain histor ical, cultural and social differences, it can be seen as a sister organization. 2. The breaks between meetings, particularly the meals, give excellent opportunities to spot the allegiances and oppositions of the delegates, simple by watching where they sit. 3.
'l,Unidad de que y de quien?', published in the electronic journal El libertario 1 2, Winter 1 998 (http://www.arrakis.es/-grupoteaJindex.htm).
andaluz
4. 'l,Sindicalismo revolucionario 0 reformismo? La internacional paralela', cnt, 275, January 2002. 5. 'l,Unidad de que y de quien?' 6. This fund was created by the Spanish government. After the Civil War, many CNT premises were sold. Some were returned to the organization after the 'Transition' of 1 975-77. In towns where the CNT no longer had an active presence, the organ ization chose to sell the premises, and to use the resulting money to aid active unions to buy premises. It should be noted that only a very small part of the CNT's pre- I 936 holdings was returned. 7. On the extended debate concerning the crisis of modernity see: Lyon ( 1 996), Touraine ( 1 993), Giddens (2000) y Beck (2000). 8. Anarchism can be considered as a particular sub-category of socialism.
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ANARCHISM, ANTHROPOLOGY AND ANDALUCIA 9. Translator's note: the Spanish equivalent to SWOT (strengths, we;i1messes, oppor
tunities and threats) is DAFO (weaknesses, threats, strengths and opportunities): hence the mismatch between the order of the themes discussed in this papers and the order of the terms in the English-language acronym. 1 0. On the theme of union elections, the integration of the labour movement and the stifling of workers' revolts, see Ventura (2004). I I . Anuario de Estadisticas Laborales y de Asuntos Sociales ( 1 998). Ministerio de Trabajo y Asuntos Sociales. 1 2. Here, I am referring to unwaged experts. The growth of such sectors implies a threat: the rise of expert power. This can be countered by the proper management of knowledge: for example, organizing courses, seminars or workshops - so every militant could take every post, previously receiving the proper preparation.
B IBLIOGRAPHY BACHARACH, S. B. and LAWLER, E. J. ( 1 980): Power and politics in organizations. Jossey-Bass, San Francisco. BAGLIONI, G. ( 1 992): Las relaciones laborales en Europa. Ministerio de Trabajo y Seguridad Social. BECK, U. (2002): La sociedad del riesgo global. Siglo XXI, Madrid. BEZOS, C. (2005): 'Nacionalismo corporativo. Reconstruccion de identidades, agendas y estrategias de mandos medios dentro del capitalismo flexible', en Actas del X Congreso de Antropologia de la FAAEE, Sevilla 1 9-22 septiembre de 2005. BLAU, P. M. ( 1 956): Bureaucracy in modern society. Random House, New York. BOURDIEU, P. (2002): La dominacion mascutina. Anagrama, Barcelona. CASTELLS, M. ( 1 997): La era de la informacion: Vol. 1: La sociedad red, Alianza, Barcelona. CC.OO. (200 1): 'La dispersion de convenios genera vacios de representacion sindical en la negociacion', en Gaceta Sindical, n° 1 43, I I de mayo de 200 I . CLASTRES, P. ( 1 974): La societe contre l 'etat: recherches d 'anthropologie politique. Les Editions de Minuit, Paris. CUEVAS, F. J. (2003): Anarquismo y educacion. La propuesta sociopolitica de la pedagogia tibertaria. Fundacion Anselmo Lorenzo, Madrid. DUVERGER, M. ( 1 957): Los partidos politicos. Fondo de Cultura Economica, Mexico. FEDERACI6N LOCAL DE SEVILLA CNT-AIT ( 1 999): Anarcosindicalismo btisico. Confederacion Nacional del Trabajo, Sevilla. FOUCAULT, M. ( 1 984): Historia de la sexualidad. 1. La voluntad de saber. Siglo XXI Editores, Madrid. - (2000): Vigilar y castigar. Siglo XXI, Madrid. GIDDENS, A. (2000): Consecuencias de la modernidad. Alianza, Madrid. GRAEBER, D. (2002): 'The New Anarchists', New Left Review, n° 1 3 , Jan-Feb 2002. - (2004): Fragments ofan Anarchist Anthropology. Prickly Paradigm Press, Chicago. HARAWAY, D. J. ( 1 995): Ciencia, cyborgs y mujeres. La reinvencion de la naturaleza. Coleccion feminismos, Catedra, Madrid. HARDT, M. (2002): 'Porto Alegre: Today's Bandung?', New Left Review, nO 1 4, March-April 2002. HOROWITZ, I. L. ( 1 975): Los anarquistas. Alianza, Madrid. KROPOTKIN, P. ( 1 984): EI apoyo mutuo. Un factor en la evolucion. Madre Tierra, Madrid.
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ANARCHIST STUDIES LYON, D. ( 1 996): Postmodernidad. Alianza, Madrid. MINTZBERO, H. ( 1 995): La estructuracion de las organizaciones. Ariel, Barcelona. MORENO, I. (2002): La globalizacion y Andalucia. Entre el mercado y la identidad. Mergablum D.L, Sevilla. PALENZUELA, P. ( 1 995): 'Las culturas del trabajo: Una aproximacion antropologica', en Sociologia del Trabajo, Nueva Epoca, n° 24, pp. 3-28. PANEBIANCO, A. ( 1 990): Modelos de partido. Organizacion y poder en los partidos politicos. Alianza Editorial, Madrid. SENNET, R. (2004): La corrosion del caracter. Un estudio sobre la flexibilidad en el nuevo capitalismo. Anagrama, Barcelona. SCOTT, J. C. (2003): Los dominados y el arte de la resistencia. Txalaparta, Nafarroa. TALEOO, F. ( 1 996): Cultura jornalera. 'poder popular ' y liderazgo mesianico: antropologia politica de Marinaleda. Fundacion Bias Infante, Sevilla. - (forthcoming): Introduccion a una antropologia del poder. TOURAINE, A. ( 1 993): Critica de la modernidad. Temas de Hoy, Madrid. UOT (2005) 'EI mito de la rigidez del trabajo indefinido en Espana y los altos costos del despido', en http://www.ugt.es/informes/costedespido.pdf VENTURA, F. (2004): Democracia y sindicalismo de Estado. Elecciones sindicales en el Area Sanitaria de Sevilla. Un estudio antropo/Ogico. Fundacion de Estudios Libertarios Anselmo Lorenzo, Madrid. WAOENSBERO, J. ( 1 985): Ideas sobre la complejidad del mundo. Tusquets Editores, Barcelona. - (2000): 'Complejidad contra incertidumbre'. EI Pais, 1 2/01 100.
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A revolt to live Post-structuralist anarchist resistance against the G8
LINDEN FARRER
[email protected] A BSTRACT In the summer of 2005 the Group of Eight most industrialised nations (G8) held their annual summit, this time at the luxurious Gleneagles Hotel in Scotland. Despite a concerted public relations offensive aimed at persuading people that the Summit was about helping the poorest in the world, this meeting was met by resistance from a broad range of protesters, just as previous meetings had been for almost a decade. This paper argues that an ethnographic approach offers a suitable means for understanding a move ment (or 'movement of movements') that is often perceived in network terms. It then gives an ethnographic overview of how activists at a set of convergence (meeting) spaces organised themselves, and what their motiva tions were for being there. It ends by arguing that the anti-globalisation movement has two broad divides, with one side being well connected to the state and political parties, and the other being socially experimental in terms of its culture, and characterisable as a form of post-structuralist anarchism. I ANTH ROPOLOGY, G LOBALISATION, AND RESEARCH ON G LOBAL LY NETWORKED MOVEMENTS 1 . 1 Overview Anthropology from its inception attempted to understand cultures from the perspective of the ' native' , and generally carried out its work to uncover the cultures and social systems of 'exotic and distant peoples' . Yet a plurality of developments going under the title 'globalisation' have increasingly put a strain on anthropological theory that sometimes lapsed into treating cultures as bounded, unchanging and pristine. Whereas in the past, the native might have been considered as ' settled persons whose lives could be conceptualized in terms of cultural wholes of shared values and meaning, unfolding within a closely linked web of integrated social rela tions' (Olwig, 1 997: 1 8), anthropologists now argue that the notion of the native is ' anthropological imagination' (Appadurai, 1 988:39) and that the entire world should be viewed as one global space in a state of flow (Gupta and Ferguson, 1 992). Two issues have been raised by the increasingly apparent processes of globalisation. Firstly, the development of theory that seeks new perspec131
ANARCHIST STUDIES tives from which to view these processes and examination of what the plurality of seemingly valid perspectives might actually reveal. Secondly, in response to the difficulties posed by theory that increasingly gives emphasis to the transient, interconnectedness and complexity of social life, a search for methodologies suited to such emphases. These issues are at their most salient when conducting research on cultures that appear ungrounded and unbounded, and it is to one such movement (or move ments) - the so-called anti-globalisation movement - on which this study concentrates. 1 .2 Globalisation and Social Movement Theory It is possible that the anthropological coming-to-terms with processes of change and the permeability of 'bounded' social and cultural entities may have occurred as part of the natural development within the discipline. I Yet it has undoubtedly been catalysed by processes such as the deregulation of capital movements, the development of new means of transport, new and increased patterns of migration, and the rapid development of information communication technologies (lCT). Whilst these processes are by no means new, they are marked by an ' intensification of world-wide social relations that link distinct localities in such a way that local happenings are shaped by events occurring many miles away and vice versa' (Giddens 1 990:64, quoted by Cheater, 1 995 : 1 24), and 'have made us aware of the fact that the principle dynamics of culture and economy have been signif icantly altered by unprecedented global processes' (Escobar, 200 1 : 1 4 1 ). Despite this, there are no single features that are the most striking about globalisation: what may be striking to a person in one part of the world or to one set of soc/al circumstances may not even be applicable to another somewhere else. I ncreasing awareness of the acceleration of processes of change has placed pressure on social science to seek alternative perspectives from which to conceptualise research. While it might have been possible in the past to push to the periphery questions regarding the changing nature of the field wherl studying social movements that were seemingly rooted in place, now even the most 'localised' movement must be posited within a global system. Difficulties are most prominent when attempting to conceptualise movements that do not appear to be rooted in any particular locality, and insteap appear - or claim - to be rooted globally. For example, the anti-globalisation movement encompasses groups, networks and individuals as varied as the Movimento Sem Terra (a Brazilian rural workers movement carrying out land reform), indigenous anti-mining activists in Papu� New Guinea, anti-sweatshop activists on US university campuses, and various anarchist, socialist and ecological activists throughout Europe.2 1 32
A REVOLT TO LIVE Researchers use new metaphors to describe the nature of these move ments, some stating that 'webs' best convey the intricacy and precariousness of the various arrangements and ties established among movement participants, organisations and other actors in civil society (Alvarez et aI, 1 998: 1 6), while others draw on the metaphor of the rhizome - 'a subterranean plant growth process involving propagation through the horizontal development of the plant stem' - connecting autonomous groups engaged in all kinds of struggle that were previously disconnected and separate (Cleaver, 1 999). Development of information technology in particular has allowed for the creation of what has been termed a 'global electronic fabric of struggle' consisting of global networks that 'leap over the barriers of isolation and bridge spatial distances' (Soyez, 200 I : I I ), allowing movements to seek out ways to make their efforts complement those of others (Routledge, 2003; Cleaver, 1 994 & 1 995). 1 .3 Network Perspectives Vs Ethnography It is not surprising that the internet is now identified as a suitable field for research about the anti-globalisation movement: relatively inexpensive to many people in the world (though clearly inaccessible to others), partici pation in electronic communication networks has become an important component of the identities of those involved. One of the ways that activists involved keep in touch and up-to-date on issues of shared impor tance is through Independent Media Centres (IMCs). The now-common sight of Indymedia collective banners at demonstrations, I M C watermark logos on digital videos in circulation, and the 1 66 Indymedia sites (and collectives maintaining themp point to the importance placed on the creation of an autonomous repertoire of news, knowledge and debate. Kahn and Kellner looked at such networks and groups in the run-up to the Iraq war and argued that the counter-hegemonic appeals of the internet facilitated the emergence of the anti-war and 'anti-capitalist' movements and is now 'an important domain of current political · struggles that is creating the base and the basis for an unprecedented worldwide anti war/pro-peace and social justice movement during a time of terrorism, war and intense political contestation' (Kahn & Kellner, 2005 :80). Despite this, treating the Internet as the primary field pfresearch fails to take account of those who do not use or do not have access to it, brushes over the fact that most activists are not wired 'Matrix-like' into cyberspace 24 hours a day, and skims over the local, regional, international and global intersections of culture, history and economics that is obscured or even hidden by research solely utilising the internet. In addition, the fragmentary nature of these networks ensures that 'no individual, nor any one group, can competently grasp the whole in its particulars' (Cleaver, 1 995), and even if they could, the materials available for analysis on the internet may not 133
ANARCHIST STUDIES necessarily represent the debates, tensions and actions of those individuals or groups in the real world due to unequal powers of representation and voice. Indeed, despite the internet's undoubted importance and ability to help shape actors' identities and perceptions, power is in the last instance defined by social, economic, and political relationships that are played out in the real world (Ribeiro, 1 998). Rather than searching for the 'essence' or 'characteristics' of movements on the internet, it should be seen as a tool for connection, triggering global political opportunities and acting as a resource by providing a crucial network base, rather than as the prime loca tion for conducting research. As noted in regards to environmental direct actions and other anti-globalisation protests: ' It would be wrong to surmise, as the national media did, that these protests were solely triggered through online activity. Rather, pre-existing networks of activists used IT to mobi lize a fast-expanding base of online potential activists' (Plows, 2004: I I I ). 1 .4 Conceptual Tools: The Plateau and Convergence Space If the prime research focus for the anti-globalisation movement should not be the internet itself,4 then what kinds of conceptual tools are available to help understand and research periods of activity in space from an ethno graphic perspective? Chesters and Welsh conceive of the global social movement against capitalism as a 'network of networks, with nodes consisting of social movement organisations, groups and occasionally individuals, expanding across an 'n' dimensional space' (Chesters & Welsh, 2002). Yet cotermi nous with this network, certain collective actions are conceived of as 'plateaus' - 'moments of temporary but intensive network stabilisation where the rhizomatic substance of the movement(s) - groups, organisa tions, individuals, ideologies, cognitive frames - are made manifest in extended temporal and spatial contexts constituting an ecology of action ' (Chesters, 2003 :45). In such a manner, a concept developed by anthropol ogist, social scientist and cyberneticist Gregory Bateson in 1 973 is used to understand events such as protests, gatherings of one type or another, as chaotic and intense nodes within the 'network of networks' yet separate from its usual workings. Another concept that has been devised to deal with moments of network stabilisation is the 'convergence space'. The concept of the convergence space recognises that local groups and networked movements periodically work towards globalised local actions and localised global actions, and that the physical coming together of people for collective action represents a convergence of networks, in a host space affected by its history, culture and so on (Routledge, 2000 & 2003). This is also the term that organisers involved in the anti-globalisation movement use for the spaces for people to congregate and organise in. 1 34
A REVOLT TO LIVE The original concept of the convergence space developed from research abou t the First Intercontinental Meeting for Humanity and Against Neoliberalism that took place in the autonomous region of Chiap as (Mexico) in 1 996. News of the encuentro (encounter) was disseminated through activist networks and resulted in over three thousand activists from over forty countries spanning five continents gathering in specially built conference centres to discuss ways to combat neoliberalism (Routledge, 2000 & 2003).5 Another example of a convergence can be found in an article about the preparations for the anti-IM F and World B ank conver gence in Prague (2000). It describes how preparation was largely coordinated through the Iniciativa Proti Ekonomicke Globalizaci (Initi ative Against Economic Globalisation) that existed for up to a year before the convergence took place. T he convergence processes led to a strengthening of the links that local groups and movements had with others elsewhere (Days of Dissent, 2004). Participation by social movement researcher J ai Sen in the preparations for the 2004 Mu mbai World Social Forum is another example of convergence. He describes his involvement with an organisational structure that was heavily influenced by the political culture of India rather than the World Social Forum's Charter of Principles , how the local political cultures and wider social landscape of India affected the eventu al proceedings, and how groups and individuals external to India interacted with and were affected by this Indian context (Sen, 2004). In conclusion, research on the anti-globalisation movement does not require use of a network perspective. It is possible to c hoose points or loca tions from which to conduct research on groups and individuals that may previously have been apparent solely through internet networking, allowing for more detailed observation than would be possible than through more spatially distant methods. Yet sites where activities are to be observed, such as at anti-summit mobilisations, are clearly affected by the actions of people in far-off places. It is here that the concept of the conver gence space o ffers a tool for ethnograp hically assisting understanding of such g atherings.
2 FIELDWORK CONTEXT 2 . 1 An introduction to Peoples ' Global Action and the Dissent!6 Network I was involved on a mostly-local level with the Dissent network as p art of the preparations for the anti-G8 convergence, thoug h it is not my intention to wr ite about the way that the network organised in the run-up to July 2005. T his is because I was not involved at that point as a researcher. Despite this, information about how the network operated c an be found on the main websites, and I o utline this information to give a context to the political culture of those involved.
1 35
ANARCHIST STUDIES Dissent formed in 2003, and consisted of a number of local collectives across the UK, with close contacts with a number of groups in other European couhtries. In its own words the 'Network has no central office, no spokespeople, no membership list and no paid staff. It's a mechanism for communication and co-ordination between local groups and working groups involved in building resistance to the GS, and capitalism in general. It hopes to exist long after the world leaders have returned home in the early summer of 2005'.7 Decisions were made every two months at gath erings that were hosted by different local groups and a different process group took on the task of formulating an agenda. In between, people stayed in touch by email or face-to-face communication, and others toured the country as part of awareness building, training and educating about the GS. Others formed various process groups that dealt with different aspects of the mobilisation such as publicity and media, though a rotation of tasks appeared to be favoured.8 The network itself was based around the hallmarks of Peoples' Global Action (PGA), and the only criterion for a person or group to get involved was adherence to - though not necessarily agreement with - these hallmarks: 1 ) A very clear rejection of capitalism, imperialism and feudalism; all trade agreements, institutions and governments that promote destructive globalisation. 2) We reject !ill forms and systems of domination and discrimination including, but not limited to, patriarchy, racism and religious fundamentalism of all creeds. We embrace the full dignity of all human beings. 3) A confrontational attitude, since we do not think that lobbying can have a major impact in such biased and undemocratic organisa tions, in which transnational capital is the only real policy-maker. 4) A call to direct action and civil disobedience, support for social movements' struggles, advocating forms of resistance which maximize respect for life and oppressed peoples' rights, as well as the construction of local alternatives to global capitalism. 5) An organisational philosophy based on decentralisation and autonomy.9 PGA describes itself as a tool to facilitate resistance to capitalism, and arose (indirectly) out of the encuentro in Chiapas ( 1 996). Since its forma tion, it has called various days of global action that have seen anti-summit mobilisations and solidarity actions across the world. Indeed, a call was made at the 2004 European PGA conference for a day of action to coincide 1 36
A REVOLT TO LIVE with the opening day of the G8 summit in 2005 . It called for 'people to converge in Scotland to disrupt the conference and for actions to be taken simultaneously in villages, towns and cities worldwide' . 1 0 A further call for convergence and action was then made at the Assembly of the Caracol Intergalaktica (youth camp) at the World Social Forum in January 2005. 1 1 2.2 Convergence Spaces Although anti-G8 activities were planned to take place across much of Scotland, I was based at the convergence spaces organised by Dissent. These had been acquired for the three main sectors of protest and coin cided (at least in theory) with the areas that needed to be blockaded in order to disrupt or stop the G8 conference: Glasgow, Edinburgh and Stirling. Edinburgh Edinburgh Students Union made their Teviott building available for use as a space to hold meetings and share information. The fact that it was organised for Dissent (it had commercial kitchen staff, CCTV cameras, closed in the early evening and had security staff on the doors) led some to comment that it was incompatible with the politics of the network. Glasgow The convergence space in Glasgow was a large abandoned warehouse in an industrial/mostly-derelict area of the city with two large interior halls. The front space consisted of a reception area, an open 'living room' with lots of sofas, a large kitchen, Indymedia area and smaller rooms for other uses. The space at the back of the building was for sleeping and storing clothes, etc. Stirling The Stirling space, consisting of a large field bordering the edge of an industrial estate in Stirling, was perhaps the most interesting as it had no pre-existing structures. Its location was kept secret until just over a week before the summit to avoid it being shut down by the police. -
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3 POLITICAL C ULTURE OF DISSENT 3 . 1 Material Culture The network produced a number of different pieces of publicity in the period building up to the convergence. One of the earliest flyers was produced about a year before the summit and was titled 'No Limits'. It described the birth of the G8 in 1975, concluding that 'all around us we see the impacts and effects of a system to which the G8 attempts to bring longevity: mindless work, war, famine and destroyed ecologies. A system whose very survival means that none of us can live our lives to their true potential. A system that is resisted daily, everywhere' . Essentially aware ness-raising in nature, it gave three reasons why people might like to protest against the G8: 1) because it would give people an opportunity to 1 37
ANARCHIST STUDIES take direct action against the world leaders and their entourages and stop them from meeting; 2) to delegitimise (through protest and actions) the morally bankrupt system that the G8 leaders promote; 3) to expand possi bilities of living together, if only temporarily, with 'no limits'. A second leaflet titled ' Resist the G8' was produced a few months before the summit and functioned as an update on the groups and collectives involved in the network and important dates leading up to the Summit in July 2005. This time it stated that the G8 meetings were a means for world leaders to reach a consensus on issues such as war, tariffs, debt, intellectual property rights, whilst creating a smokescreen for continued inaction on climate change and the continuation of capitalism. A third leaflet produced in the month or so leading up to the summit drew upon the popular Channel 4 reality TV show Big Brother, asking participants to 'evict the G8' from Gleneagles. It was primarily a source of information for people who had decided to come and protest against the G8. A final piece of material was the 'Make H istory - Shut Down the 08' handout. This used the same font and lettering as the mainstream Make Poverty History (MPH) coalition and was handed out at the MPH march on 2 July. This leaflet diverged slightly from earlier materials in that it advocated a strategy of lobbying for change, stating that: ' More is needed as marches are often ignored: think back to the mega-marches against the Iraq war. The G8 needs to be given a message they can't ignore. They can't ignore us blocking the roads . . . disrupting their meetings.' Although it would be possible to describe other materials produced, it is more interesting to look at the ways that local groups envisaged the relationship of anti-G8 actions to the summit that was taking place at the same time. The examples I choose here are selective, but - excluding the Faslane Blockade - do cover the main actions (in terms of numbers participating) and were organised by groups associated or involved with the Dissent Network itself. 1 2 On 4 July a Carnival for Full Enjoyment was organised by the Working Group Against Workl3 (and others) to take place in Edinburgh. A leaflet advertising the event was subtitled 'No wage slavery, no benefits slavery, no arms slavery, no debt slavery', and called on workers, students, migrants, benefits claimants, pensioners and others to bring drums, music and imagination for action against the 08 'that expresses our resistance in work, out of work, and wherever we live'. Asserting that 'Gleneagles isn't the only place we can see international capitalism at work - it's here on the high streets', it identified banks, Job Centres, private and government agencies that harass claimants to accept low paid work, army recruiters and others' as places against which to demonstrate. During a meeting at the Edinburgh space, an organiser stated that, like the planned blockade of nuclear naval port Faslane, the action was against conscription - in this case, economic conscription by the government and private agencies. He 138
A REVOLT TO LIVE then gave a brief outline of the group he was part of, that had its roots in the anti-Poll Tax movement and ran alternative advice centres for people being harassed by Job Centres and social security 'spies'. Another organ iser drew links with movements elsewhere in the world, such as the Zapatistas and the movement in Bolivia fighting oil-privatisation, saying that they were all fighting against 'the real criminals . . . those who have stolen the planet off us'. This slant was also taken in another handout on the day attacking H M Love (sheriffs officers), contrasting Edinburgh Claimants' work as part of the anti-Poll tax movement with the mass 'proletarian shopping' (shop-lifting) of the Italian autonomous movement in the 1 970s and its continuation today by groups like Yo Mango in Spain, resistance against the privatisation of water in Bolivia, and non-payment for electricity by the Zapatista movement in Chiapas (Mexico). Completing a defiant message in favour of direct action it ends: Our message to the banks, councils, credit companies, electricity and gas suppliers and all other profit obsessed institutions trying to rob the poor to pay the rich is simple - WE OWE YOU NOTHING. YOU HAVE STOLEN THE WORLD FROM US. NOW WE ARE ORGANI SING TO TAKE IT BACK. WE WILL N EVER PAY!
The Carnival was thus billed in such a way as to make the links between financial institutions and profit obsessed institutions, the G8 summit, and the hardships felt by those marginalised by the capitalist and statist system: not a single-issue protest, nor an abstract march against capi talism, but an attempt to draw links between local institutions that enforce capitalism and the national governments and transnational organisations and corporations that dictate the rules. The next main day of action was the opening day of the Summit itself on 6 July, for which Dissent advocated something different to the other main political groupings in Scotland for the G8 Summit - MPH and G8 Alternatives. M PH held huge pop concerts that were beamed to television screens across the world, and a large but rather tedious march around Edinburgh in the days leading up to the summit, ostensibly to lobby the G8 for greater debt relief for African countries and a reduction in barriers to free trade for developing nations. 1 4 G8 Alternatives organised a march around the G8 summit with police and the local council, with the purpose of 'shaming' the G8 leaders, reminding them of people's objections to their wars, and lobbying them for change,l5 In contrast, those involved and associated with Dissent advocated direct actions to stop the summit, including a mass blockade of the roads and lock-ons to cars to prevent the thousands of delegates and journalists from being able to attend the summit (though not the world leaders who were flown in by helicopter). It 1 39
ANARCHIST STUDIES makes a clear statement that stopping the summit is preferable to it taking place, even one that supposedly has 'the plight of Africa' and climate change at the heart of its agenda. The notion that blockading was a form of 'extreme lobbying', whereby disruption might lead to a change in policy by the G8 leaders, was not something that anyone I spoke with at the Dissent spaces seemed to accept. 1 6 A final example I draw upon is the 'Boogie on the Bridge' street party that took place on the last day of the summit. This was billed as an oppor tunity to celebrate the end of the summit and refuse an extension of the M74 motorway through Glasgow, environmental destruction of the planet, and the G8 itself. Like the Carnival for Full Enjoyment, it framed local concerns in a global context, drawing links between a sham 'public enquiry' used to get the motorway extension approved and 'big institutions ignoring the voices of local people in the name of progress and economic development. All over the world, land is bulldozed, communities are ripped apart, air and water are polluted, people pushed out of their homes.' Citing the example of the BP oil pipeline that displaced 30,000 people in Azerbaijan, Georgia and Turkey, indigenous communities fighting against a government planned coal mine in Venezuela, and environmentally and socially disastrous tree plantations in Brazil as part of carbon trading schemes, the publicity material concluded that 'These are seemingly different battles raging in disconnected places around the world. But the forces driving these destructive projects are the same profit-seeking companies, power-hungry politicians and international institutions that constantly put the needs of people and the environment last.' 3.2 Culture ofDecision Making and (Se/f-)Organisation At all three of the spaces decisions were made according to principles of consensus as part of a wider system of ' horizontalism'. That is, when a meeting took place, everyone was offered the opportunity to speak rather than relying on delegated authorities to speak for them. The process of decision-making began by defining the problem or decision that needed to be made, generating possible ideas including further questions or clarifi cations, discussing identified options, modifying others and then eliminating the rest. After this, the merits of the remaining proposals were discussed so that everyone had the opportunity to contribute, acknowledge minor objections and then begin the process of implementing a decision. I fthere were objections people were able to 'stand aside' (opting out of the agreement), veto or 'block', though this was generally used to stop deci sions from being taken that might cause the group to splinter.!7 This system of decision making was used at alI of the Dissent spaces, and was used to coordinate activities between various affinity groups during the blockades, share information about the state of the convergence 140
A REVOLT TO LIVE in Scotland as a whole, and organise a ffinity group or food collective activities. Meetings operating u nder consensus had either one or two facil itators w ho took contributions from those in attendance, and summarised the state of the debate. Because there were no assigned 'key speakers', it was necessary for people to sit in such a way so that everyone had e qual opportunity (within reason) to see everyone else. Even in the very largest meetings - perhaps with one hundred or more in attendance - people sat in large circles ; the use of podiums and a division between speakers and listeners was not evident. W he n more than a hundred or so people needed to be involved in a decision, spokespersons were chosen by respective groups or friends to attend the meetings, discuss options and report back. A meeting could split ( 'break out') or reconvene several times before deci sions were made. T his mostly happe ned at the Hori-Zone camp due to the number of people present. Hand-signals were a nother innovation that helped the facilitator(s) to decide who was to speak next. T hese inc luded something similar to a waving action (the 'twink le') to show agreement, a hand raised to make a point, 'T' sign to make a technical point (speak immediately) and two hands raised to make a direct response (speak next). A few new o nes were introduced by a minority, i nc luding the upside-dow n 'twinkle' to show disagreement though this was not widely used. Facilitators sometimes a lso asked people to raise their hands in favour of certain plans or proposals, but this was done purely to indicate levels of consensus. Some meetings lasted for up to an hour, a nd indeed, most of the people at the spaces spent a good proportion of the day engaged in meetings, sometimes to the detri ment of taking action - resulting in the often heard grumbles about 'too many meetings'. A t the 'self-organised' spaces in Stirling and Glasgow there was also room to create new organisational structures. At the Glasgow space, meet ings took place in the morning w here people volunteered to take o n preparing various meals o r anything else that mig ht need doing. T here was a tension between those w ho favoured a more communitarian space (arguing for specific times for group activities) and those w ho felt people should get involved if they felt the inclination, though the space ran harmoniously and was described as inspiring by people u nfami liar with such forms of organisation. A t the Stirling campsite - called the Hori-Zone (or eco-village by the media) - there was more room for innovation. T he site was described in a welcoming pamphlet as 'a zone of resista nce to the G8: self organisation, horizontal decision-making, eco logy and auto no my in action. It is based on organising in an open and participatory way, inviting all to take part in the creation of their own futures.' Partially due to the scale of the project (up to five thousand people stayed there), and also because the zone
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ANARCH IST STUDIES consisted of a field next to a river, the site operated a specific organisa tional form based around the neighbourhood or 'barrio' system. These were to strive for self sufficiency and contribute to the running of the entire site. Issues were discussed within the barrio and then taken to the camp-wide spokescouncil meetings that took place on a regular basis, where collective voices were represented. Most barrios had a communal kitchen or camp-fire around which people congregated and socialised. Requests for volunteers or materials from the spokescouncil were taken to barrios, where people could volunteer to take on roles such as prop making or guarding the main gate. This organisational model appears to be borrowed from the VAAAG anti-G8 camp in 2003, 1 8 and perhaps from the No Borders Camps that have taken place throughout Europe. The term 'barrio', however, comes from the Argentinean popular assemblies, and reflects the influence that neighbourhood organisations in post-economic crash (early 2000s) Argentina had on the grassroots globalisation move ment in Europe. Consumption at the sites was marked by vegetarian and vegan foods, a predominance of fairtrade, organic and local produce, and promotion of low-impact means of living. The site was self-powered by renewable energy from bio-diesel. People were asked to use only what they needed from solar and wind points, to recharge phones and batteries during the day to conserve energy at night, etc. In addition it used compost toilets which were no less pleasant than standard portable toilets found at most music festivals, re-used or recycled most materials, and utilised a 'grey water system' which was for cleaning and washing. The provision of food, security, recycling and the running of the Indymedia tent was carried out through the use of volunteers; indeed, most people seemed to be involved in the running of the camp in at least one way. Many of the services avail able were provided on the basis of mutual aid and solidarity: people who could not afford a donation for food were provided it free, tools were avail able from specific areas to borrow, transport to Edinburgh and elsewhere was run by volunteers and done on a suggested donation-only basis, and even staying at the site itself was subject to donation. 1 9 Inevitably, there were some issues about differential access to power at the site(s). Some barrios were much larger than others yet still had only one spokesperson. Spokespersons had a range of conceptions as to their roles, and the capacities to which they were able to make decisions on behalf of others. Some individuals had greater access to information than others (through social networks, the distribution of mobile radios, etc) though this does seems unavoidable considering the length the project was to last. It was also clear that people had a variety of different levels of involvement, from planning and running of core services from the start, to treating the camp as they would any other commercial campsite - as a 142
A REVOLT TO LIVE place to stay, enjoy and consume. There was also the issue of a blueprint being drawn-up in advance preventing people from innovating from scratch. However, although it may have been interesting to get involved in setting up camps from scratch (as occurred at the Lausanne C . Village for the 2003 G8 convergence20) it was much more efficient having people set this out in advance, aIIowing newcomers to 'plug into' the decision making process and get involved. It is possible that the movement has developed to such an extent that it is able to ditch methods that failed to work in the past, and stick with a barrio system that has worked relatively weII so far, given the nature of the camps so far; it may therefore be an example of a developing cultural norm. What was not clear was how such a form of organisation could be roIIed out to encompass a series of different camps, federations of many camps, or neighbourhood equiva lents in urban environments. Whether more formal and regulated sets of decision making structures would emerge or be developed to deal with more complex and large scale organisation remains to be seen. If reasons for protesting against the G8 constitute the 'anti ' in the move ment, the practical aspects of how participants organised and conducted activities constitute the positive, creative aspects of the movement. This aspect may not be as readily apparent to outsiders but is so central that it warrants ditching the anti-globalisation tag, and replacing it with something much more positive. Indeed, because of the sociaIIy-prefigurative forms of organisation, promotion of unmediated links with others around the world, support for asylum seekers, and the right to free movement, a much better though more verbose - term is the grassroots globalisation movement.2 1 4 ANALYSIS 4.1 Critiques of Summit Resistance In the build-up to the convergence, discussions were held by various groups about the reasons for opposing the summits of world leaders. The success or failure of an anti-summit mobilisation clearly depends upon what the aims of participants and mobilisation organisations actuaIIy are. In brief, a number of different reasons were stated for involvement in the convergence, ordered very vaguely from the anarchistic to the liberal: Shutting down or hindering the summit to stop world leaders from furthering the interests of capital. Putting into practice a set of social and political ethics. Hedonistic, social, cultural reasons: direct experience of meeting people, fighting the COps,22 being part of a larger event and being inspired, going to parties with people from all around the world, etc.
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ANARCHIST STUDIES Showing solidarity with similar struggles elsewhere in the world. Undertaking (direct and non-direct) actions to delegitimise the summit through the organs of the commercial and grassroots media. Marching to lobby G8 leaders for change.
These reasons are not mutually exclusive. For example, some protesters hoped to shut down the summit, have a great time in doing so, and at the very least register dissent against the G8. Others organised actions to lobby governments, yet must have welcomed any direct actions that raised their event's profile in the media. Debates regarding the tactic of anti-summit convergences in the build up to the Scotland convergence were similar to those that have taken place elsewhere. Some individuals were concerned that summit mobilisations had become ritualistic, whilst others argued that the G8 was a diversion of energy away from local projects: capitalism, these people argued, could better be found in everyday life - on the streets in consumerism, poverty, and banks - than in meetings of world leaders, especially when the real decisions are made well in advance of the summit itself. Others stated that the tactic of travelling to summits was one that only the privileged can engage in - a privilege that is often afforded overwhelmingly to white people in a white society: Women with children, people who do not have legal citizenship, refugees, poor people, etc, face barriers to involvement in large actions away from home that younger white males with middle class privilege do not . . . The organizing, leadership and campaign decisions have resulted in the appear ance of a white led movement, when in fact, people of colour and indigenous peoples . . . feel the brunt of imperialist globalization and have been organising against it for hundreds of years (Dirks, 2002).
Other commentators are similarly sceptical of summit mobilisations as a means to achieve real change, but acknowledge their potential uses. Following involvement in the anti-G8 convergences that took place in various cities of Canada in 2002, a writer for Socialism and Democracy23 concludes that mass actions allowed people to connect with others, gave participants encouragement by doing so, and were useful for linking various campaigns back to the actions of those attending the summits in an official capacity. Most notable, however, were the prefigurative elements displayed by those involved, how 'Many of our people have made clearly defined choices to live in the now as they want to see the world organised "after'" (Stainsby, 2002). The political groupings found at Gleneagles, and replicated before that 1 44
A REVOLT TO LIVE at previous summit mobilisations ranging from Seattle and Prague to Genoa, point towards a divide within the larger mass of those attending summit mobilisations. As argued by Hardt (2004), one side of the divide is linked to those already in positions of influence and existing political organisations, organises centrally, and argues for the state's role in resisting neoliberalism. The other is linked to social movements, has few links to those in power and argues for a transnational resistance to capi talism through decentralisation of decision-making in opposition to the state. From an emerging body of materials, it seems that Hardt's basic split between two different political constituencies is a characteristic of the global movement wherever it converges. This can be demonstrated in the organisation of the Youth Camp at the World Social Forum (Nunes, 2005), the division between libertarian and anti-authoritarian groups and poiitical parties and NGOs at both World Social Forum and European Social Forum (Farrer, 2004), the organisational process of the 2004 European Social Forum in London (DownIing, 2005), divisions in the artti-war movement in the UK between those who tried to organise and carry out autonomous direct actions, and those who favouring the lobbying of 'friendly' politi cians and using the trade unions to avert war. And, specific to the 2005 G8 actions, a similar split can be found in the separate workings of Dissent, G8 Alternatives, and Make Poverty H istory. 4.2 Ideologically Framing the Movement: Post-Structuralist Anarchism
If one divide of the grassroots globalisation movement is archist, the other is anarchist.24 Andrej Grubacic argues that the three manifestations of anarchist ideology - anti-statism, anti-capitalism, and prefigurative poli tics - are all present, and that the movement is a manifestation of a 'fifth wave' of anarchism best exemplified in networks such as Peoples' Global Action, the Zapatistas and Autonomen; these groups, while not explicitly identifying with anarchism as a tradition, do correspond with its 'spirit' (Grubacic, 2004); and Graeme Chesters argues that the grassroots global isation movement is synonymous through its democratic praxis with anarchism and 'indicative of how anarchist principles translate into social behaviours' (Chesters, 2003:45). Anthropologist David Graeber states that practice of democracy, prefigurative models of operation, direct action, and undermining of existing power rather than attempts to seize it are in accordance with anarchist ideals. Furthermore, he argues that new forms of organization are its ideology. It is about creating and enacting horizontal networks instead of top-down structures like states, parties or corporations; networks based on principles of decentralized, non-hierarchical consensus democracy. Ultimately, it aspires to be much more than that, because ultimately it aspires to reinvent daily life as a 1 45
ANARCHIST STUDIES whole. But unlike many other forms of radicalism, it has first organized itself in the political sphere - mainly because this was a territory that the powers that be (who have shifted all their heavy artillery into the economic) have largely abandoned (Graeber, 2004 [ 1 ] :2 1 2; see also Graeber, [2]). The roots of this form of anarchism have been traced back to a variety of different social movements and subcultures. McKay traces the 'intuitive anarchist' characteristics of non-hierarchical direct action groups to the self-proclaimed 'newness' of the 1 960s New Left, the free festivals, trav ellers, punks and squatters of the 1 970s, and the free party scene of the late 1 980s and early 90s (McKay, 1 998). Purkis and Welsh state that the combination of (often self-depreciating) humour, surreal imagery and non-violence challenges expectations of ordinary protest in a way that can be linked back to the Situationists (Purkis and Welsh, 2003:8-9); and Autbeben notes that British anti-road protesters' refusal of liberal democ racy, ravers' pursuit of autonomy, and squatters' refusal of property rights coalescing around anti-Criminal Justice Bill activities in the mid-90s suggested the possibility of these campaigns going beyond themselves into general anti-capitalist struggle (Autbeben, 1 995). These kinds of links between past and current movements are clearly specific to the British context. Undoubtedly, different countries and regions will have had different experiences. Nevertheless, links between national and regional movements around the world are regularly made by movement actors themselves, with common characteristics such as tendencies to work outside of formal political structures (or even an outright rejection of these structures), an emphasis on direct action, making an appeal to a better and more equal world, challenging the assumptions of consumerism, instrumental economic rationality or even modernity itself, and managing to provoke the powerful into revealing the state's propensity for violence often cited as commonalities. Most impor tantly perhaps, in all its diversity it amounts to a sense of presence - an ongoing opposition to capitalism, the commodity form, and the mega machine (Morland & Carter, 2004: 1 1 - 1 2). Yet the anarchism displayed in the grassroots globalisation movement is as much in-line with older forms of anarchism such as anarcho-commu nism or anarcho-syndicalism, as it i s a new type drawing on post-structuralism (Davies, 1 997) or being a form of post-structuralist anarchism (Carter & Morland, 2004; Welsh & Purkis, 2003). Such a union has been noted by academics who argue that anarchism has an (almost) natural affinity with aspects of post-structuralist thought. For example, Koch argues that while classical anarchism was based on a particular conception of human nature,25 post-structuralism's liberating potential lies 1 46
A REVOLT TO LIVE with its deconstruction of any concept that makes oppression appear rational, and that, ' Resistance is formulated against a background of plurality. It is plurality that cultural and political institutions oppose as they promote one form of subjectivity over another. This is precisely why poststructuralism can support liberation movements' (Koch, 1 993:348). Todd May similarly characterises classical anarchism as having an essen tially naive conception of human nature, and the strategic focus of overthrowing the state. Post-structuralism, he states, might inform anar chism by replacing the conception of human nature with an ethical commitment to autonomy, acceptance of the creative and coercive poten tialities of power, and refocus from a strategic one of overthrowing the state to a tactical rejection of the concentration of power at a diversity of different levels (May, 1 994). Examples of such a politics can be found in tendencies for organising in self-described networks rather than groups (e.g. D issent, Peoples' Global Action), identifying power as existing at a multiplicity of sites requiring it to be decentralised rather than destroyed, a rejection of all totalising theories as potential forms of oppression, and in the emerging post-leftist, spiritualist anarchism, and primitivism (mostly from North America). To illustrate with just a few examples some of these forms of post-structuralist anarchism, McQuinn states that ' Post-left anarchists reject all ideologies in favour of the individual and communal construction of self-theory' (McQuinn, 2004:53); and Bob Black argues that anar chism's failures in the past can be put down to residues of Marxism - its belief in technological progress, development of productive forces, work, statism, tendencies to centralised organisation - and that anarchism can never be accomplished in the modem city (Black, 1 997). This touches upon some of the anti-civilisation currents that can be found in Green Anarchist and the writings of primitivists such as John Zerzan, who argue that the very development of civilisation and language is an 'accommoda tion to a world of unfreedom' (Zerzan, 1 999:34). Another widely circulated post-leftist piece argues that the theorisation of leftists 'bores people to death' and criticises those who involve themselves in activist work out of a feeling of guilt. The author insists instead that anarchist activism 'must be concrete: it must be immediate, it must be obvious to everyone why it is worth the effort, it must be fun in itself. How can we do positive things for others if we ourselves do not enjoy our own lives?' (Nadia, 2002). Landstreicher gives an outline of such a minimal post-leftist anarchism stating that revolutionary activity is not a program, but a struggle for the individual and social re-appropriation of the totality of life, a rejection of organisational ism, the grand-narrative of progress, identity politics, and even a rejection of ideology itself 1 47
ANARCHIST STUDIES that is to say, the rejection of every program, idea, abstraction, ideal or theory that is placed above life and individuals as a construct to be served. The rejection, therefore, of God, the State, the Nation, the Race, etc., but also of Anarchism, Primitivism, Communism, Freedom, Reason, the Individual, etc. when these become ideals to which one is to sacrifice oneself, one's desires, one's aspirations, one's dreams (Landstreicher, 2002:5 1 ).
The importance attributed to the present, rather than building for the future, points to the importance also of 'peak experience' rather than subsumption to struggle. A logical implication of this can be illustrated with a quote by Hakim Bey, who argues that revolution has never yet resulted in achieving this dream. The vision comes to life in the moment of uprising - but as soon as 'the Revolution' triumphs and the State returns, the dream and the ideal are already betrayed . . . even if we replace the revolutionary approach with a concept of insurrection blossoming spontaneously into anarchist culture, our own particular historical situation is not propitious for such a vast undertaking. Absolutely nothing but a futile martyrdom could possibly result now from a head-on collision with the terminal State (Bey, 2003 :98).
Leaflets produced by the Dissent network displayed such elements to their propaganda through the use of visuals of people celebrating revolt, breaking down fences and escaping confines, rather than struggle, mass marches and banner waving.26 I ndeed, responses by those at Dissent spaces emphasised the importance of a practice of prefigurative politics rather than being defined as acting under the auspices of any specific ideology - not only because means were considered as important as ends, but also because prefiguration was rewarding and represented the testing and development of social theory. One activist at the Horizone rejected socialism, liberalism and anarchism, and stated that he 'wouldn't want to be working under NOOs or political parties because part of being involved in these things is figuring out your own ideas. It's positive to see a project through by building infrastructure, sorting it out and having it come together; it's far more rewarding than simply doing what someone asks you to do.' The importance placed by Dissent (and previous move ment organisations) on obtaining space to self-organise, experiment and experience point simultaneously towards immediacy rather than the future, and autonomy from external sources of power in doing so. A quote from Shut Them Down, a book published after the convergence by Dissent puts it as follows: 1 48
A REVOLT TO LIVE The whole idea of the counter-summit wasn't really about protesting about the GS. For us, it wasn't even directly about abolishing global poverty. It was about life. It was about being a becoming human. It was about our desire. No matter how 'well paid' or 'secure' our employment, as we shuffle pieces of paper as we gaze out of the window in a meeting, as we trudge around the supermarket we think 'there must be more to life than this .. .' We never felt this in Scotland, no matter how frustrated we became in one or two meetings, however pissed off we got with a few individuals or angry at the state. This was living; this was being human . . . this process of creation, invention and becoming isn't a 'feeling', it's a material reality. The new capacities we experience at these events don't just disappear. They are there to be accessed during the rest of our lives . . . if we can work out how to reach them again (The Free Association, 2005: 1 7).
Somewhere between the academic prose, movement literature and the actions of participants, it is possible to conclude that one side of the divide in the grassroots globalisation movement is post-structuralist anarchist in nature. This is not to say that the movement is specifically post-leftist, or spiritualist anarchist, and nor is it my intention to label all of the people at these spaces under one category. Despite this, rejection of grand narratives and the embrace of a multiplicity of alternatives to statism and capitalism rather than single solutions or conceptions of revolution, the way that activists conceive of their own involvement in the moveJ11ent, and a focus on the local, the particular and the sporadic as a means for disrupting the normal order of things rather than a wider view or grand plan are distinc tive of the movement. The actions of Reclaim the Streets, drawing on Bey's conception of the Temporary Autonomous Zone, the development of subversive zones on the internet such as open-publishing sites, and creation of free software as a means of subverting the economic structure by making the principle means of control - the programmihg code 'visible' to the public (Truscello, 2003)27 are further pointers as to how the movement can be likened to post-structuralist anarchism. 4.3 Post-Structuralist Anarchism: Some Implications Such developments in anarchist praxis are not without criticism. In one of the most acrimonious debates of the contemporary anarchist scene, Murray Bookchin lambastes so-called 'lifestyle anarchists' who find their principal expression in spray-can graffiti, postmodernist nihilism, antira tionalism, neoprimitivism, antitechnologism, neo-Situationist 'cultural terrorism', mysticism, and a 'practice' of staging Foucauldian 'personal insurrections'. These trendy posturings, nearly all of which follow current yuppie fashions, are individualistic in the important sense that they are anti-
1 49
ANARCHIST STUDIES thetical to the development of serious organizations, a radical politics, a committed social movement, theoretical coherence, and programmatic rele vance. More oriented toward achieving one's own 'self-realization' than achieving basic social change, this trend among lifestyle anarchists is partic ularly noxious . . . The black flag, which revolutionary social anarchists raised in insurrectionary struggles in Ukraine and Spain, now becomes a fashion able sarong for the delectation of chic petty bourgeois (Bookchin, 1995:20).
Reification of struggle at a multiplicity of levels in this sense can be used as an excuse for failing to build larger projects, of celebrating rebellious acts over less immediate activities that might result in a qualitative move towards some end goal, or of an inability to expose and undermine vulner able sites and sources of domination. The development of post-structuralist anarchism can also be seen as a response not only to increased flows of people and developments in ICT, but also to the undeniable strength and reach of capital, forcing struggle against the system out of the open and into whatever cracks are left open to it within the current system. Despite criticism of the approach taken by the grassroots globalisation movement, the long-term activities of those involved and the conviction and purpose displayed by those attending can scarcely be described as consisting of short-term 'trendy posturings' or 'personal insurrections', given that participants were almost all involved in a variety of different campaigns when not protesting against the G8 from anti-oil and arms campaigns and acting as human shields for Palestinians, to creating spaces for people to live in alternative communities and developing sustainable bases of counter hegemonic knowledge. Decades of being told to stop and wait for the right time to take action and build a movement for change has led in most instances to stagnation, increasingly aggressive forms of capitalism, and a general failure to make an impact. It is only natural that people seek more immediate responses as a result. As the processes of globalisation continue to develop and traditional political choices narrow, the experimentation of the grassroots globalisation movement potentially stands to offer the most for those seeking an alternative to the current order, whilst at the same time providing participants with much needed respite from the daily monotony of work, submission to authority, and inane consumption dished up by neolib eral capitalism. If the movement is successful in any of its aims or goals as it continues to experiment, learn and experience, so much the better. -
NOTES 1. This is admittedly a generalisation, not least because different anthropological
schools (e.g. French, British, American) had different conceptions of the 'boundedness' and dynamics of cultures (Lewis, 1999).
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A REVOLT TO LIVE 2. See for example Klein (2000), Starhawk (2002), Notes from Nowhere (2003), Kingsnorth (2003), Mertes (ed., 2004). 3. On 28 June 2006, there were 5 African, I I Canadian, 48 European, 1 7 Latin American, 1 2 Oceanian, 2 South Asian, 61 United States, and 5 West Asian Indymedia sites listed on https:lluk.indymedia.org. This does not include 'regional' or 'city district' sites that might operate under any one of those just mentioned. 4. This would clearly not apply to research concentrating on internet sites and activities per se. 5. See also Kingsnorth (2004:25-37), and Notes from Nowhere (eds.) (2003:3437, 74-79). 6. For purposes of clarity, I will remove the ' ! ' from the name for the rest of this paper. 7. See http://www.dissent.org.uk/contentlview/62/52. 8. An in-depth account of how the network formed and operated, and many of the main events during the course of the convergence can be found in Trocchi et at (2005). 9. PGA Hallmarks, at http://www.nadir.org/nadirlinitiativ/agp/free/pga/hallm.htm. 1 0. Resist the G8 II Global Action Callout II, at http://www.dissent.org.uk/ contentlview/60/63/. I I . See 'Assembly of the Caracol Intergalaktica', at http://www.nadir.org/nadir/ initiativ/agplresistg8/actions/caracoI3n.htm. 1 2. Since writing this paper, other reports have mentioned the importance of an initiative by people involved in Dissent to involve local residents in Glasgow in community outreach events such as the Cre8 Summat actions. See Trocchi et al (2005). 1 3 . Also known as ' Dissent Against Work'. 1 4. The Make Poverty History coalition consisted of a large number of NGOs and charities. It received backing from many politicians including the Labour Chancellor Gordon Brown, and refused the Stop the War Coalition from joining because it might embarrass some of its political backers. For a critique of this organisation, see Hodkinson (2005). Indeed, its politics were so main stream that one press-officer announced that their march was 'not a march in the sense of a demonstration, but more of a walk. The emphasis is on fun in the sun. The intention is to welcome the G8 leaders and ask them to deliver trade justice, debt cancellation and increased aid to developing countries' (Bruce Whitehead, spokesperson for Make Poverty History, 28/0 1/2005, quoted by Hewson (2005)). 1 5. G8 Alternatives was a coalition consisting of various socialist political parties and an assortment of unaligned individuals. When the police tried to call the march off G8 Alternatives refused to do so, calling the police's bluff. In fact, the eventual march around Gleneagles led many to successfully tear down parts of the fences around Gleneagles and invade the hotel grounds. 1 6. The first day of the summit did suffer considerable disruption, with roads and train-routes around Gleneagles closed, and many delegates and journal ists reportedly unable to attend much (or all) of the first day due to the blockades.
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ANARCHIST STUDIES 1 7. Graeber describes variations of this system used during anti-summit conver gences in North America (Graeber, 2004: 2 1 2-2 14). 1 8. See The lizaag: A Collective Experience of Self-Organisation, in Days of Dissent (eds.) (2004). 1 9. Considerable amounts of fundraising also took place in the year or so before the convergence. 20. See for example, Friends of Phil and Toby (2003). 2 1 . The name 'anti-globalisation' is nonsensical unless one equates globalisation wholly with neoliberal economics (and not freedom of movement and global solidarity). Even people and groups involved in the movement who advocate use of the state as a way to resist the pressures of international finance can only really be described as 'anti-economic globalisation' because they are equally in favour of refugee rights and freedom of movement. The only real anti-glob alisation political standpoint is that of the anti-migrant, anti-global solidarity, anti-international finance strands of political thought found within the orbits of populist nationalist and fascist politics. Other names include the movement for social justice, the movement of movements, and the alter-mondialist move ment in French speaking regions. 22. For an investigation of the political use of riots, see Mueller T (2004). 23. See http://www.sdonline.org/. 24. Some critics argue that the movement displays a heavy mix of liberalism. Although lots of analysis could be devoted to dissecting anti-capitalist and anti-statist rhetoric from practical activity, for the purposes of this paper I consider a rhetorical and (as far as possible) practical advocation and practice of prefigurative anti-statism and anti-capitalism as anarchism, regardless of whether certain activists or certain sections favour mediation with the state or worry about media image over and above other possible courses of action. Some of the least vocally radical activists engage in some of the most radical activity, whilst the opposite situation is also be true, making analysis of aims and directions of movements rather difficult. 25. The notion that 'classical' anarchism - as exemplified in Proudhon, Bakunin and Kropotkin - had an essentially benevolent view of human nature is convincingly disputed by Morland ( 1 997) and Hartley ( 1 995), but this does not invalidate the argument that there are differences between 'classical' and post structuralist anarchism. 26. The lack of reference to 'anarchism' in this material is described by Trocchi et al (2005) as an attempt to avoid excluding council communists and situation ists from the network. 27. Sections of the U S Government actually consider open source so dangerous to US capitalist interests that they have asked members of Congress to support a letter stating that Linux is a threat to national security. See Strangelove (2005) for a study of how subversive, anti-privatisation (piracy, hacking, crackjng, information dissemination, etc) activities on the net relate to the anti-capitalist movement, and Vaidhyanathan (2004) for argument that the struggle ori the internet is best characterised as being between oligarchy and anarchy (with the author coming down on the side of a rather ill-defined 'soft anarchism ').
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Debate: re-inventing hierarchy
ABSTRACT In the following two papers, John Clark and Robert Graham debate some of the ideas and implications presented in Graham's paper ' Reinventing H ierarchy: The Political Theory of Social Ecology', published in Anarchist Studies 1 2. 1 . THE RUTHLESS CRITIQUE OF EVERYTHI NG NON-EXISTENT: ROBE RT GRAHAM TAKES ON SOCIAL ECOLOGY John Clark
In his recent article ' Reinventing Hierarchy' Robert Graham presents a critique of 'the political theory of social ecology' . 1 He discusses certain views of Murray Bookchin and Janet Biehl, in addition to my own. Bookchin and Biehl could no doubt judge the accuracy of his account in their cases. As for his depiction of my position, it is inaccurate. In determining what my views are, Graham adopted the strategy of extrap olating my own views from my critique of Bookchin in the article 'Municipal Dreams'. Thus, whenever I point out a certain implication of Bookchin's proposals that Bookchin himself fails to see, Graham assumes, without evidence: ( 1 ) that I agree with Bookchin's basic proposals; and (2) that I accept the implications that are overlooked by Bookchin. According to this strategy, whenever I use a reductio ad absurdum argument against Bookchin, Graham can conclude not merely that I find Bookchin's position to be defec tive, but that I believe in whatever follows from Bookchin's position.2 Graham's major thesis about my political position is that I 'm committed to a political program of multiplying administrative bodies that would create dangerous new 'hierarchical structures of political authority' .3 Anyone who is interested in my actual views can find them fairly easily - I 've been writing regularly for the journal Capitalism Nature Socialism for the last nine years, and have done a regular column on polit ical ecology for the last five. If one examines what I 've written in articles such as 'The Problem of Political Culture,'4 'The Microecology of Community,' 5 or my recent ' Letter from New Orleans: Reclusian Reflections on an Unnatural Disaster,'6 one will find that my focus is on the emergence of a liberatory culture consisting above all of affinity groups, base communities, and other forms of primary organization, and that reforming Bookchin's municipalism by tacking administrative bodies onto it is the farthest thing from my mind. 1 56
DEBATE: RE-INVENTING H IERARCHY Quite some time ago it became clear that there was a fundamental divi sion between Bookchin's views and my own concerning the question of whether the municipality and its assembly, or more primary forms of asso ciation such as affinity groups and base communities, were more crucial for the emergence of a free, ecological society. I have argued that Bookchin's commitment to the primacy of the municipality and its assembly leads to the problems of administration that I point out in ' Municipal Dreams' . I suspect that Bookchin himself realized the impli cations of his own position and that this (along with the general lack of sympathy for his position among anarchists) helped him to decide to break with anarchism a few years ago. Bookchin would have no trouble under standing my position as based on a cultural critique of programmatic leftism and on a radically decentralist eco-communitarianism. He would no doubt dismiss this position as a lapse into 'lifestyle anarchism', though I would describe it as the pursuit of an anarchism of real life as opposed to a leftism of escapist fantasy. But at least Bookchin would understand what aspects of my viewpoint he rejects. Graham, on the other hand, seems not to have understood the nature of that viewpoint. It's helpful to look carefully at Graham's method of textual analysis in order to see how he manages to misunderstand this subject. For example, he writes that I argue that it is impossible 'for community assemblies to formulate policies with sufficient specificity "that administrators would have no significant role in shaping policy"'7 However neither in the passage he cites nor anywhere else do I make such a claim about 'commu nity assemblies', I refer only to the kind of municipal assemblies proposed by Bookchin, I do not think that assemblies in affinity groups, base communities, relatively small intentional communities, or small-scale worker cooperatives run into such problems. This is one reason why I see such groups as much more important for social, cultural and personal transformation than does Bookchin. However, I do think that such problems arise in the assemblies of thou sands of members that Bookchin has at times proposed. Should an assembly actually consist of thousands of participants, the idea that it could directly oversee administration of its policies without delegating authority and without significant administrative shaping of those policies seems inconceivable (though both Bookchin and Graham are invited to explain how this could work), I find the mere assertion that it will myste riously happen 'after the revolution', or the assumption that it's possible because it is required by 'true anarchism' to be nothing more than ideo logical mystification or political fundamentalism, Needless to say, I don't, as Graham claims, support the creation of various 'levels of administra tion' to oversee assemblies of thousands of citizens, since I find Bookchin's proposal for such assemblies to be without merit. 157
ANARCHIST STUDIES Continuing his theme of my supposed attachment to administrative power, Graham claims that I think that 'administrative power can be kept in check by popular juries and citizens' committees randomly selected from among the members of the community' .8 He goes on to describe these juries and committees as 'yet more' of those 'administrative bodies'9 with which he falsely thinks I am so enamoured. But in reality I invoke popular juries and citizen's committees for reasons that involve no commitment to expanding administration, and in fact lead in quite the opposite direction. I discuss these institutions as possible participatory, democratic alternatives to an assembly that is too large to be authentically participatory or democratic. I note that popular juries as advocated by anarchist theorists are one possible institution that could perform such functions in a more effective, democratic and participatory manner. Godwin, the most of important point of reference on this topic in classical anarchist theory, proposes a system of local juries that would make decisions unfettered by any other legislative or administrative bodies, including any kind of assembly. In his view, these bodies would be the best possible expression of the 'private judgment' of the citizens - something that could easily be compromised, he argued, in large assemblies. I also observe that citizens' committees, as proposed by Burnheim, could exercise the kind of direct decision-making that Bookchin unrealistically reserves for his municipal assemblies. These committees might function as a participatory, democratic means of overseeing and controlling administra tion. Whether or not one thinks that such committees or popular juries are promising participatory institutions, it is important to understand that they do not constitute some 'level of administration' that is 'additional' and 'higher' than basic decision-making bodies. On the contrary they themselves embody the most basic exercise of direct decision-making by the citizens and are thus a grassroots democratic check on possibly irresponsible administration. One misleading aspect of Graham's analysis is his failure to note my very clear rejection of narrowly programmatic proposals for systems of assemblies, j uries or committees. I find such a programmatic politics, which has been the hallmark of all forms of leftist sectarianism, to be the downfall of Bookchin's municipalism. I specifically state (in response to precisely the same kind of misreading in Bookchin's case as in Graham's) that 'what I "call for" is not some specific political form, but rather a consideration of various promising political forms whose potential can only be determined through practice and experimentation' . 10 Yet every statement by Graham transforms my comments on Bookchin into exactly the kind of programmatic position that I criticize in Bookchin and emphat ically reject in the very text he discusses. Graham's misinterpretation of this point is clearest when he claims that 'Clark suggests that assembly policies be "articulated programmatically 1 58
DEBATE: RE-INVENTING HIERARCHY by judicial and administrative agencies'" . 1 1 The complete passage from which he extracts a few words demonstrates with absolute clarity Graham's method. There I state that: Bookchin never explores the basic theoretical question of whether any formal system of local law should exist, and how policy decisions of assemblies should be interpreted and applied to particular cases. Yet his discreet silence is perhaps wise, since his position would seem to collapse were he to give any clear answer to this question. If general rules and policy decisions (i.e., laws) are adopted by an assembly, then they must be applied to particular cases and articulated programmati cally by judicial and administrative agencies. It is then inevitable that these agencies will have some share in political power. But this alterna tive is inconsistent with his many affirmations of the supremacy of the assembly. On the other hand, if no general rules are adopted, then the assembly will have the impossibly complex task of applying rules to all disputed cases and formulating all important details of programs. 1 2 As any careful reader can see, the phrase quoted by Graham is not taken from some plan that I ' suggest', rather from the analysis of an unenviable theoretical dilemma in which Bookchin gets himself embroiled. Graham thinks that I ' m merely trying to reform Bookchin. Before long he has me endorsing Bookchin's confederalism and taking on the chal lenging job of fine-tuning that confused system: 'Clark also endorses policy-making at the confederal level that would be enforceable against individual assemblies but, unlike Bookchin, admits that the coercive enforcement of laws and policies constitute "state-like functions'" . 1 3 Actually I endorse neither Bookchin's libertarian municipal ism, nor his confederalism, nor the quasi-state that emerges from them. Rather, I reject all of them and point out that Bookchin unwittingly commits himself to statism because he fails to see the implications of his own proposals. Graham concludes his case by attributing to me an entire theory that I have certainly never espoused and of which in fact I have never heard. In this peculiar imaginary world there are 'directly democratic groups' that 'share policy-making' with 'various administrative bodies', that are then 'overseen by yet another level of supervisory administrative bodies', and there is finally ' at the regional level' a 'bioregional council that will be empowered to act coercively against individual communities that "do not abide by the fundamental principles or policies adopted in common.'" 14 In all of this the last short phrase is the only actual quote from anything I 've written. As one might now guess, it is taken from a discussion of the implications of Bookchin's ideas, not any proposal of my own. Needless to say, Graham never clarifies the sense in which I could be 1 59
ANARCHIST STUDIES even hypothetically committed to such a system, since in his rather narrow universe of discourse everything always takes place in one dimension: that of the ideal anarchist society. Yet meaningful political theory must be related coherently to a range of future possibilities. So how in reality would I judge this system that he misleadingly attributes to me? If the question is whether I'd accept this bizarre scheme as an immediate substi tute for the United States government, I 'd say, ' Yes, in a second! ' . If the question is whether I think this monstrosity would be the ideal anarchist system of decision-making I 'd say, ' No, you must be kidding ! ' . If the ques tion is whether I prefer my own political views, developed over many years in a variety of works, to a theoretical hodge-podge invented by Graham and attributed to me, the answer is 'Gawd, yes ! ' . REPLY TO CLARK Robert Graham
There are three points I would like to deal with in brief response to John P. Clark's criticisms of my article, ' Reinventing Hierarchy: The Political Theory of Social Ecology', Anarchist Studies, 1 2 : 1 (2004). With respect to the version of his paper, 'Municipal Dreams,' that I used, it was a hard copy of the same version posted at the Anarchy Archives website referenced in my article, not a different, older manuscript version. I referenced the web version because it is much more readily accessible to readers, being available to anyone with access to the internet (as opposed to the version in Andrew Light's Social Ecology After Bookchin (SEAB), which is likely only to be available through university libraries). To check the page references, all that needs to be done is to convert the web version into a Word document, or to print off a copy (which is considerably cheaper than buying a copy of Light's book). To locate specific quotations from the text, a simple word search of the web version is very quick and efficient. The differences between the Anarchy Archives web version of ' Municipal Dreams' and the version in Light's book are minimal. In fact, the Anarchy Archives web version is preceded by this announcement: 'This article appeared in Social Ecology After Bookchin published by The Guilford Press: New York. ©Copyright 1 998 by The Guilford Press. Posted in Anarchy Archives with permission.' There is nothing unreliable about my method of citing sources. Clark claims that I have misrepresented his views in attributing to him the argument that it is impossible for community assemblies to formulate policies with sufficient specificity that administrators would have no significant role in shaping policy, but that administrative power can be kept in check by popular juries and citizen's committees. Here is what he actually wrote in 'Municipal Dreams': 1 60
DEBATE: RE-INVENTING H IERARCHY And although in an anarchist critique of existing bureaucracy, administra tors might be depicted rhetorically as mindless, it does not seem desirable that in a free society they should be dismissed as necessarily possessing this quality. All complex systems of social organization will require some kind of administration . . . It seems impossible to imagine any form of assembly government that could formulate such specific directives on complex matters that administrators would have no significant role in shaping policy . . . . Unless we assume that society would become and remain quite simplified . . . then it would be unrealistic to assume that all significant policy decisions could be made in an assembly, or even super vised directly by an assembly. A possible alternative would be a popular judiciary . . . One democratic procedure that could perform judicial func tions would be popular juries . . . or citizens' committees . . . that could oversee administrative decision-making. (SEAB, pp. I 64-1 65). I think my summary of Clark's argument is fair anq accurate. Further, there i s nothing in this passage that would indicate that this was all just a clever reduction ad absurdum argument meant only to discredit Murray Bookchin's proposals. Clark's references to the positive role oflaw and legal institutions are not limited to this passage. Indeed, he later complains apout my reference to his further argument that if 'general rules and policy deci�ions (i.e., laws) are adopted by an assembly, then they must be applied to particular cases and articulated programmatically by judicial and administrative agencies' (SEAB, p. 1 68). Given his further comment that it is an 'impossibly complex task' for an assembly to apply the 'rules to all disputed cases' and to formu late 'all important details of programs,' and his previous comments on the role of a 'popular judiciary,' it is fair to conclude that Clark endorses some form of legal government in which policy making will not be the exclusive preserve of community assemblies (SEAB, p. 1 68). My last point relates to what I regard as Clark's rejection of anarchist federalism (I never argued that he endorses Bookchin's concept of 'confed eralism'). Clark's comments in this regard are quite clear. He defines anarchist federalism as 'voluntary federations of relatively autonomous individuals, productive enterprises, or communities' (SEAB, p. 1 76). After arguing that Bookchin's 'confederalism' might justify a 'majority of communities acting confederally' to act 'coercively to deal with such basic issues' as human rights violations and ecological mayhem, Clark writes that it 'appears that the only way to avoid this result is to take a purist anarchist approach . . . in which the majority of confederating communities would have no power of enforcement in any area' (SEAB, pp. 1 77- 1 78). He then opines that very few would consider this 'a viable way of solving problems in a complex world' (SEAB, p. 1 78). Thus, Clark consistently refers to the 161
ANARCHIST STUDIES 'complexity' of social organization to justify everything from policy making administrative bodies, to a popular judiciary, to a rejection of anar chist federalism. While this may not constitute a ' program,' is certainly does not constitute an endorsement of a consistently anarchist approach that 'rejects hierarchy and domination in all their forms,' which was the main point of my article ("Reinventing Hierarchy,' p.34). NOTES I . Robert Graham, 'Reinventing Hierarchy: The Political Theory of Social Ecology' in Anarchist Studies 1 2 (2004): 1 6-35. 2. Graham's method of citing sources is unreliable. His single source for my ideas is my article ' M unicipal Dreams' from Andrew Light's collection Social Ecology After Bookchin (New York: Guilford Publications, 1 998; pp. 1 37- 1 90), which is also found online in the Anarchy Archives. However he cites page numbers that actually refer to nothing in either of these sources. He explained to me that his citations refer to an old manuscript version of the article I once sent to him. Unfortunately, his readers have no copies of that version (as neither do I currently), so his page citations can do nothing more than confuse them. Graham also explained to me that he didn't expect the reader to use his cryptic page references, but rather to do word searches of the internet version, should he or she be interested in consulting the original discussions. 3. Graham, ' Reinventing Hierarchy', p. 1 6. 4. 'The Problem of Political Culture' in Capitalism Nature Socialism 1 5 (2004): 1 03 - 1 08. 5. 'The Microecology of Community' in Capitalism Nature Socialism 1 5 (2004): 1 69-1 79. 6. 'A Letter from New Orleans: Reclusian Reflections on an Unnatural Disaster' in Capitalism Nature Socialism 1 7 (Mar. 2006): 7- 1 8. 7. Graham, ' Reinventing Hierarchy,' p. 20. He cites 'Municipal Dreams,' p. 1 64 (cited as p. 4 1 ). 8. Graham, ' Reinventing Hierarchy,' p. 20. He cites ' M unicipal Dreams,' p. 1 65 (cited as p. 42). 9. Graham, ' Reinventing Hierarchy,' p. 20. 1 0. ' Municipal Dreams,' p. 1 65. I I . Graham, ' Reinventing Hierarchy,' p. 33. He cites ' M unicipal Dreams,' p. 1 68 (cited as p. 46). 1 2. 'Municipal Dreams,' p. 1 68. 1 3 . Graham, ' Reinventing Hierarchy,' p. 33. He cites 'Municipal Dreams,' p. 1 77 (cited as p. 58). 1 4. Graham, 'Reinventing Hierarchy,' p. 34. He cites ' Municipal Dreams,' p. 1 77 (cited as p. 57).
1 62
Murray Bookchin
(1921-2006)
TOM CAHILL
Murray Bookchin i s dead. I didn't really know him, although we talked on the phone several times, when I asked him to do an article for the first issue of the 'new' joumal Anarchist Studies. He sent us the article. Although I didn't know him, or anyone else who knew him well, he was one of the primary intellectual influences on what anarchist tendencies I have ever had. People have called him a socialist, an anarchist, a democrat, a communist, a social ecologist, a communalist, a libertarian municipalist or whatever. He was complex, and his ideas changed in relation to his experiences, throughout his life. In addition, I suspect he would have a good chuckle about how difficult it is to write an authentic, honest obituary about him. He was many things to many people. One writer apparently said there was a Bookchin I and a Bookchin 2. From what I know there were at least three Bookchins, and maybe a few more. Murray Bookchin was endearingly complicated. I am mostly going to write about 'the Bookchin' I liked best. It was in the late sixties that I first came across Bookchin's leaflets, which were later to become book chapters. Very tidily and accurately, 'his' ideas encapsulated the notions floating through our movements. At that time he was a superb example, in my mind, of a 'movement intellectual ' . I particularly remember Toward a Liberatory Technology, Ecology and Revolutionary Thought and Listen Marxist. They were long leaflets, published by Ecology Action East or some group in Berkeley, really inex pensive, you could buy two, and give one to a friend, without thinking about the money. Not everyone wrote openly and freely like that. This was the era when I fully recognised that I must be some sort of anarchist. When I read essays like Bookchin's, I became more convinced. The classic anar chist writers have never grabbed me. They always seemed a little bit 'old', and slightly out of date, a bit like a beloved uncle. It was Bookchin who helped me knit together some of my unconnected interests into something like 'social ecology' or some kind of anarchism, perhaps an anarchism that did not yet exist. There were other influences of course, like Fifth Estate, but Bookchin was the guy who pulled it together. He wrote about what was happening, and combined perspectives on ecology, radical politics and critiques of Marxism (while not chucking it out entirely), that connected me with the tradition he represented. Reading those leaflets/chapters gave me, and many of my friends, much needed weight to our thoughts and actions. We already 'knew' all that stuff, but it was not quite so well connected before Bookchin. We felt we were not alone, that familiar 1 63
ANARCHIST STUDIES feeling that all anarchists have when they discover their real home. In those days, Bookchin was very much in tune with what was in the air, because he was an activist, as well as an intellectual. Many of us have and still do aspire to be that kind of activist and a critical reflector. It is hard to do, and I think Bookchin did it for a long time. Over the years, I have met many 'anarchist types' who are delighted to admit that he was one of their early and important influences. I doubt whether any single anarchist writer in the twentieth century was more important to more people, from the late sixties until at least the end of the eighties. There is no empirical way I can back up this rather bold assertion, although several people have repeated it to me since he died. The exact reason why Bookchin influenced them was. often different. Did I already say he was complicated? Perhaps it was his injection of 'politics' into the emerging field of environmental thought. We have to remember that there was a time when most 'political' people did not always recognise the impor tance of ecological thinking. It was often with the help of Bookchin's writing that we could batter some sense into those narrow minded leftists OR ecologists. Pethaps it was his persistent reminders about class. It was still there, social class mattered and could not be ignored. Perhaps it was his ringing critique of leftist thought, seeing it as irrelevant, limited, boring, wrong. He managed to capture how 'we' could reject that tradition, while also hinting at, and beginning to construct the alternative, some kind of 'contemporary' anarchism. He kept reminding us not to forget the leftist, socialist, Marxist vision. Perhaps it was his accessible style. He was never trained as an academic, so often he managed, certainly in the early days, to write essays you give to a friend without fearing that they would stop reading before the end. Perhaps it was the fact that Bookchin introduced me to the notion of 'affinity groups', and their relation to the anarchist experi ence. Perhaps it was his championing of revitalisation of anarchism, at a time when it really was not flavour of the month, or even of the decade. Especially for those friends who came to intellectual maturity during the late 60s and 70s, he was a very important theorist of a revived anarchism. In the seventies, I remember the influence of several of his essays. In fact, I have to confess that although I enjoyed works like Ecology ofFreedom (a massive intellectual challenge), histories of the Spanish Anarchists, and Defending the Eart�, the essence of Bookchin for me is in Post Scarcity Anwchism and Toward an Ecological Society. For example, I recall the profound effect of ' Spontaneity and Organization' on my intellectual devel opment. I have re-read this essay many times, usually when I find someone who does not respect the absolute necessity of both spontaneity and organ isation in 'proper' anarchist practice. In some ways, Bookchin also helped me appreciate the utterly central importance of 'the dialectic'. As I read more, I saw how Bookchin actually does apply this simple and complicated 1 64
MURRAY BOOKCHIN ( 1 92 1-2006) notion to quite everyday matters. I knew about self-management, but after reading ' Self-Management and The New Technology', I was never again able to forget some good lessons about both those major concepts and prac tices. Although I can't be sure so many years later, when it is 'common sense', it could have been Bookchin who introduced me to the notion of what was later called 'radical technology' . I have never lost this background interest and awareness in my subsequent thoughts and actions. Not only did Bookchin's work influence me, introduce me to new ideas, and nudge me in the direction of being an 'out' anarchist, but he provided excellent material that I could give to others to help them come out, iden tify with 'our tradition(s)' . When I became a teacher, I always used his work for reading lists. Although most of what he wrote has become 'common sense' today, there was a time, unknown to younger readers, when there was no one else writing what he wrote. Ideas can be in the air, practices can happen far away, but if the actual writing is not done, and published widely, these things remain secrets and rumours. 'The alternatives' don't exist for many people who cannot see them, or read about them. In that way, Bookchin also embodied the value of 'the anarchist intellectual'. In a milieu where I often notice a strong anti-intellectual tendency, Bookchin was one of the first who showed me that there was terribly useful value in reflection, writing and sharing the reflections. He constantly reminded me, certainly during the 60s and seventies, that the writing �nd thinking must be grounded in intimate contact with the 'radical' action of the day. These are valuable lessons, hard to apply in real life. In the early nineties, I often encouraged people to look at the dialogue between Bookchin and Dave Foreman in Defending The Earth: A Dialogue Between Murray Bookchin & Dave Foreman. I thought particularly the 'debate' between Foreman and Bookchin was an excellent way to compli cate the eco-issues, to render a simplistic appreciation of these issues almost impossible. Both 'ecologists' with simplistic or uncritical politics, and 'anar chists' with no real understanding of radical ecological thought or 'nature', were often affected by this collection. For me, it was that kind of enjoyable polemic that is so hard to find in the anarchist movement(s). I well remember being seriously challenged by Ecology of Freedom. I think I bought it and hardly opened it for a year or two. But when I finally took up the challenge, I was impressed. I am not normally a political theorist or historian, the kind that specialises in ancient ways and qead thinkers. But that book helped me understand how I could make a critique of concepts like 'freedom'. Freedom, like choice, justice and democracy, is so obviously a 'good' thing that it is not always self evident to everyone how you make a critique of those notions. Bookchin helped me out in this 'scholarly' book. There is probably enough here to indicate that for me Bookchin was a superb example of 'The American Way'. He was big, extreme, annoyed 1 65
ANARCHIST STUDIES people, had vitality, was creative, not totally predictable, not entirely 'a white guy' and so on. There are younger anarchists who would have a less positive appreciation of Bookchin. They see the guy who seems to have 'reverted' to some earlier Trotskyist, leftist, or communist 'tendencies', who was not terribly sensitive to deep ecology, or to the new age or spiri tual tendencies that many of my colleagues appreciated. They would see a person who was bitter and critical about the tendencies he saw arising in 'the left' or in 'the counter culture' or 'personal life style struggles". They would miss out on the guy who saw great hope in some of those move ments and tendencies in his earlier work. They saw a man who was overly concerned about the 'correct' interpretation of what he had said, and who was busy making the corrections. By the time the younger 'new anar chists' grew up, in the eighties and nineties, the ideas of Bookchin had become commonplace, seen by many as obvious. Over the years, we have pushed some of his early notions even further, adapted them to new expe riences and reflections. I expect he would like that, as, for anarchists, nothing is written in stone. I have left out all the usual information about his family, early life in the Bronx, Janet Biehl, a full bibliography, what others have said in obitu aries, 'communalism', his early life, the work of Institute of Social Ecology which he co-founded, his writings about Spanish anarchism, views on libertarian municipal ism, specific mention of the Clamshell Alliance (really important for me), most of the debates and discussion about his concepts and interpretations thereof, and many other things. I have also not taken sides in the many conflicts of interpretation that have gone on, and will continue to go on for years to come. He was complicated and changing, so obviously there were conflicts. I have also not commented on his recent years of illness and his diminished level of activity, as I know almost nothing of this time, and so should say nothing. If you want to find out about those matters, search the web. Imagine, those early leaflets were mimeographed on paper! For me and many of my friends, he was a vital influence. I was grateful that he sent us that article when Anarchist Studies hardly existed. He was not obliged to send it. In many ways, he was quite generous with his time and energy. Bookchin also evoked annoyance, and even anger, when he was deeply critical of some tendencies I very much embraced within our movement(s). His critiques forced me to reflect a bit, and try to find a way to respond appropriately. I am nearly certain that he was, for many in my generation, the most important and influential anarchist writer in the twen tieth century. It is hard to write an obituary about him. I can only hope that, as with the practice of anarchism itself, the variety of our reflections and action will, together, provide a fitting memory. 166
REVIEW ARTICLES
HAROLD BARCLAY - ANTHROPOLOGIST OF ANARCHY Longing for Arcadia: Memoirs o fa n Anarcho-Cynicalist Anthropologist Trafford Publishing, Victoria BC, 2005 I SBN 1 4 1 20 5679 9, 362 pages Culture and Anarchism Freedom Press, London, 1 997 I SBN 0 900384 84 0, 1 67 pages The State Freedom Press, London, 2003 I SBN 1 90449 1 00 6, 1 09 pages
The title to Harold Barclay's recently published autobiography, Longing for Arcadia: Memoirs ofan Anarcho-Cynicalist Anthropologist, succinctly describes the man and his work. Barclay is one of those rare academics who is not afraid to express his anarchist sympathies and to relate them to his research. While other anthropologists refer to societies without govern ment in less forthright terms (for example, as 'acephalous' societies), Barclay describes them as a form of anarchy. However, Barclay does not allow his anarchist sympathies to cloud his judgement. If the conditions for recreating such anarchic societies are not good, he says so and explains why. He sees no use in sugar coating a disheartening diagnosis. If neither the emperor nor the anarchist had any clothes, Barclay would be the first to point that out. But even if anarchy is now a remote if not unrealizable ideal, that should not stop us from questioning existing institutions, motives and values, as did the Cynics in ancient Greece. Barclay has been writing about anarchy and anthropology for many years. What has always been refreshing in his approach is his unwilling ness to shroud or distort the results of anthropological research. That research demonstrates that for most of human history people lived successfully without government, and that the state is a relatively recent development. Unfortunately, it may very well be an irreversible develop ment, but that should not stop us from refusing to grant it any legitimacy. His Memoirs begin with his semi-rural upbringing in Boston. His grandfather had a farm on the outskirts of Boston, where Barclay spent a significant amount of time during his childhood and adolescence. This part of his Memoirs is very good at evoking another era, when urban areas 1 67
ANARCHIST STUDIES in North America were surrounded by farms, and people still used horses for work and transportation. Anyone with a similar family background will find Barclay's descriptions of this life instantly recognizable. Barclay recounts his political development in his early years, when he advocated cooperative distribution and workers' control. During World War II he was a conscientious objector, which resulted in him being sent to various work camps. At the tiny library at one of the camps, he found an anarchist pamphlet and came to accept Bakunin's critique of Marxism, despite having slogged through Volume 1 of Marx's Capital the summer before. After the war, he tried teaching for a while. He was accused of being unpatriotic, having had the audacity to suggest that perhaps the United States was not the greatest, most democratic country in all of human history. He had to retreat to his grandfather's farm. Eventually, he returned to university to study anthropology. Some of the most interesting parts of Barclay's Memoirs are his descriptions of his anthropological fieldwork. After spending two and a half years at the American University in Cairo, Barclay went to study a Sudanese village, Buurri al Lamaaab, and travelled throughout Sudan, observing local customs and religious practices, including those of the Sufi brotherhoods. His academic travels and travails in various colleges and universities back in North America are not as interesting, but he does review some of the more original theoretical work in sociology and anthropology that was then current, such as Ralf Dahrendorf's attempt to integrate structural functionalism and conflict theory. Sprinkled throughout the Memoirs are Barclay's opinions on a number of issues, from religious belief to the tortures of modem dentistry, and a fond tribute to his horse, Coral. Barclay helpfully summarizes the results of his own anthropological and academic research, which are set forth in more detail in his previous collection of essays, Culture and Anarchism, published by Freedom Press in 1 997. The first part of Culture and Anarchism includes excerpts from Barclay's Culture, the Human Way ( 1 986) and People Without Government: An Anthropology ofAnarchy ( 1 982 & 1 990). In these essays Barclay critiques 'materialist' and 'mono-causal' approaches to anthro pology, instead advocating an approach which emphasizes the role of symbolic and mental elements in human culture. In criticizing John Zerzan's critique of agriculture, Barclay notes that the ' separation of the self from the non-self is the first act of alienation' (page 1 1 2). In this sense, alienation is simply part of the human condition, and not something that can be overcome by the abolition of agriculture, or work in general, as it arises with self-awareness. In ' Do Anarchic Polities have a Message?', Barclay analyzes the pre1 68
REVIEW ARTICLES state anarchic societies in which human beings lived for thousands of years, and assesses the prospects for a successful return to anarchic forms
of social organization, which he sees as remote, at least on a widespread scale. The building of ' segmented polycephalous idea-based networks', involving 'a complex web of mutual relations such that each bond within the web would act as a counterbalancing force to every other', thereby constraining the development of hierarchical relationships, is a realizable ideal that some people have accomplished on a smaller scale (pages 99 & 1 0 I ). However, as Barclay points out, it is unlikely that existing states would permit such a process to develop to the point where states would be rendered superfluous, contrary to the hopes of earlier anarchists, such as Proudhon and Landauer. Barclay's most recent essay, The State, published by Freedom Press in 2003, is a welcome addition to such venerable anarchist analyses as Kropotkin's, The State: Its Historic Role. Barclay provides a general defi nition of the state as an organization that asserts sovereignty over a given territory by means of coercive law enforcement and military organization. States come in all sizes and have many different forms of government, from theocracies to modem ' secular' republics (which, as Barclay points out, have not really dispensed with religion but rather have created their own ideologies to inculcate the obedience of the masses). Barclay divides states into two main groups: pristine states that devel oped independently of any other state formation, and secondary states that were derived from or imposed by other states. Pristine states include the ancient states of Mesopotamia and Egypt, China, the Olmec of Mexico, and the Polynesian islands of Hawaii, Tahiti, Tonga and Samoa. Barclay refers to several factors that lead to state formation. States arose from 'rank' societies in which hierarchical relationships had already developed. But for an elite group in a rank society to successfully consti tute a state, a number of other factors must be present. An increased population leads to the weakening of kinship ties. Sedentary settlement and agriculture increases specialization and the division of labour. Individual property and control of resources enables elites to redistribute wealth (mainly to themselves). Military organization and warfare are used to protect the elite's wealth and power and to subdue internal and external enemies. Ideologies legitimate hierarchical social relationships and facili tate the voluntary acceptance of subordination and exploitation by the majority of the population. What is particularly interesting about Barclay's account is the degree to which the classical anarchist theorists were able to identify many of these factors despite the limited data available to them. The anthropological record suggests that the anarchists were right in arguing that inequalities in wealth and power not only lead to the development of the state but are 1 69
ANARCH IST STUDIES incompatible with an anarchist society, lending support to Michael Taylor's argument in Community, Anarchy and Liberty (Cambridge University Press, 1 982) that the only coherent form of anarchism is some kind of communitarian anarchism. Barclay's own contributions to anthropology and anarchism have certainly not ended with these books. He continues to write on a variety of topics for this and other journals, applying his 'anarcho-cynicalist' philos ophy. His work is much appreciated. Robert Graham Robert Graham is the editor of Anarchism: A Documentary History of Libertarian Ideas and he also writes on anarchist political theory.
GLOBAL ANTI-CAPITALISM Anti-Capitalism: A Beginner 50 Guide Simon Tormey One World Publications, Oxford 2004 ISBN 1 85 1 683429 1 92 pages, paperback, £9.99/$ 1 5 .95
A decade or so ago 'globalization' became a fashionable concept among academics. It is now a veritable 'buzz' word, and we are informed by the redoubtable Anthony (now Lord) Giddens, Blair's sociological guru, that there is no alternative to global capitalism. All we can do therefore is to argue about 'how far, and in what ways capitalism should be governed and regulated' . I Capitalism has, of course, always been a global economic system, since at least the seventeenth century - a 'world system', as Immanuel Wallerstein described it - so it is hardly surprising that 'globalization', for many people, is simply a cover term for the latest rampant phase of capi talism. The concept, in fact, is virtually synonymous with 'late capitalism', ' modernization', the 'global corporate system', or what an earlier genera tion of socialists called ' imperialism' . Essentially a political project bolstered by neo-liberal ideology and implemented by the oligarchs within the I M F and World Bank, the impact of this 'juggernaut' has been profound. Deregulation, debt and structural adjustment policies have increased social and economic inequalities, whilst political oppression and outright terrorism by governments has disintegrated communities the world over. Equally, global capitalism has been the primary cause of the 1 70
REVIEW ARTICLES 'ecological crisis', even threatening the basic life-support systems on which we all depend.2 Throughout the world there has, inevitably, been a mounting resistance to 'globalization' that has taken many different forms, although this term is somewhat misleading in describing the imperialist onslaught of global capitalism. For the ownership of capital is by no means widely dispersed; it is more centralized and concentrated than ever before in imperialist states, and although capital flows freely throughout the world seeking out profits, working people largely remain trapped within national bound aries.3 Even though resistance and opposition to global capitalism has a long history, the emergence of a specific global anti-capitalist movement has been dated, by many academics at least, to the protests against a meeting of the World Trade Organization that took place in Seattle at the end of November 1 999. This movement has brought together people and groups with very diverse political interests and ideologies, often conflicting trade unions defending their jobs, a plethora of NGOs concerned with social justice, whether supporting landless peasants in Brazil or sweatshop workers in Southeast Asia, social democrats who resent the fact that society is being subordinated to the interests of the large corporations, Earth First! and other environmental activists, Marxists and socialists of various persuasions, as well as many anarchist groups - primitivists, class struggle anarchists, mutualists, and the loosely affiliated group of militant anarchists known as the 'black bloc', who are seen as being attached to ' symbolic' violence.4 In the six years since Seattle there have been numerous large demon strations and gatherings of anti-capitalists - such as in Prague (September 2000 at the World BanklIMF), Quebec City (April 200 1 at the Summit of the Americas), Genoa (July 2001 at the G8 summit) - each addressing a different manifestation of the same problems. The global anti-capitalist movement has also generated its own high profile conference events, starting with the first World Social Forum, held in Porto Alegre, Brazil in January 200 1 . Organising under the slogan 'another world is possible' these ' Social' Forums have paralleled the corporate economic ones. The anti-capitalist movement has been written about by academics, activists and party hacks, with those by Naomi Klein, Noam Chomsky and Arundhati Roy being of particular interest in this regard - all clear and refreshingly free of academic pr�tensions.5 But if you want a short, useful and thoughtful guide to the anti-capitalist movement you can do no better than buy Simon Tormey's Anti-Capitalism: A Beginner s Guide. For it provides a very readable and helpful discussion of the anti-capitalist move ment in all its diversity. Having taught a politics course on anti-capitalism at the University of Nottingham for some two decades, and having a 171
ANARCHIST STUDIES mother, he tells us, who is 'the original anarcho-situationst-beatnik', Tormey's work is critical, historically-informed, and above all, engaging. However this is less a book of advocacy than a guide to the many issues that are relevant to any understanding of the anti-capitalist movement. There are five chapters. The opening chapter describes the nature of capitalism as an economic system - one based on private property, a competitive market, the use of capital to generate profit, and on a system of wage labour. Although making a distinction between the market and capitalism, Tormey tends to overemphasize the importance of the free market and competition, and thus to downplay the fact that corporate monopolies, cartels and protection rackets, and state support, are intrinsic to capitalism. Indeed, Fernand Braudel made a clear distinction between the market economy and capitalism, and not only saw monopolies as being a major factor in the rise of historical capitalism, but also saw the state as a constitutive element in the functioning of the capitalist system. 6 Like Kropotkin, Braudel thus emphasized that there has always been a symbi otic relationship between the nation-state and capitalism - whether mercantile, industrial or global. 7 The United States and the states of the European Union certainly do not practise 'free trade' - this is the ideology they export to Third World countries. They themselves heavily subsidize their own transnational corporations, as well as capitalist farmers and the rich. It is equally misleading to equate capitalism with wage labour, for historically capitalism has always utilized various forms of labour bonded labour, chattel slavery, share cropping, debt bondage et al. The Atlantic slave trade was intrinsic to the development of capitalism, and, of course, although there has been a growing trend towards 'proletarianiza tion ' , capitalists have always tended to favour 'semi-proletarians', workers who lack unity and solidarity, and whose social welfare is certainly not their concern.8 Tormey gives a very interesting account of the arguments that are used to justify capitalism, namely, that capitalism promotes political liberty and that its dynamism has increased the economic well-being of the majority of people - private property and economic inequalities being necessary, it seems, to make us all wealthier. Both these ideological justifications are, of course, suspect, if not vacuous. In the second chapter Tormey discusses the background and the various factors involved in the emergence of the anti-capitalist movement. These include the following: with the emergence of global capitalism there has been a decline in the power of nation-states and thus a crisis for liberal democracy (though Tormey emphasizes that the nation state is not about to disappear); the growing disillusionment with the Soviet Union and its form of state capitalism (long critiqued, of course, by anarchists); the emergence of various new social movements since the 1 960s; the impor1 72
REVIEW ARTICLES tance of computer technology, especially the internet, which not only gives visibility to marginal groups, but also facilitates the co-ordination of radical activities and protests; and, finally, the emergence in the 1 960s of the politics of detournement - subversive activities, especially associated with the Situationists, involving guerrilla advertising and an emphasis on the aesthetic dimensions of protest. All this has given rise, Tormey suggests, to a different kind of politics - radical, diverse, extra-parliamen tary, subversive, non-hierarchical. Hardly novel to generations of anarchists! Anyone who is acquainted with the history of the French revo lution and of the socialist movement (which was of course a global movement and anti-capitalist) will be aware that the politics of detourne ment did not begin with the Situationists; it is also important not to overemphasize the role of a small group of Situationists in the events of May 1 968, or in the emergence of what Tormey calls 'unofficial' politics. When Tormey comes to discuss the nature of the anti-capitalist move ment it comes as no surprise that the majority of protestors against globalization do not in fact envisage an end to capitalism, and are not, strictly speaking, anti-capitalists. They are essentially 'reformists', or social democrats who are committed to making capitalism work for society as a whole rather than simply in the interests of the transnational corporations. They thus seek to humanize capitalism and make it more benign, and imagine that one can have 'globalization with a human face'. Chapter Three is focused on this 'reformist' tendency within the anti-capi talist movement, and it is significant that Tormey devotes some 34 pages to the reformist anti-capitalists and only 7 pages, later, to the anarchists. Reformism takes many different forms. Some, like the late Pierre Bourdieu and the Brazilian Worker's Party (who hosted the first World Social Forum in Porto Alegre), simply want to bolster the economic power of the nation state, and thus curb the worst excesses of global capitalism; in contrast Susan George and the French organization 'Association for the Taxation of Financial Transactions to Aid Citizens' (ATTAC - also one of the founders of the World Social Forum) advocate putting a tax on the movement of capital, the money collected being used to fund projects in the Third World; others still, like David Held and George Monbiot, envisage a 'global social democracy' with global institutions and a global state to ensure that global capitalism serves the interests of the majority of people. Monbiot still suffers from the liberal illusion that capitalism is not intrinsically exploitative, and that the democratic state essentially serves the public interest. Tormey suggests that the global social democrats are akin to the Jacobins of the French revolution and that their radical vision is essentially utopian. In Chapter Four, entitled ' Renegades, Radicals and Revolutionaries', Tormey discusses the radical wing of the anti-capitalist movement which 1 73
ANARCHIST STUDIES he divides into five broad political tendencies. These are the Marxists, with their emphasis on the primacy of productive relations, and the neces sity of a party organization for defeating capitalism (the Socialist Worker's Party is prototypical of this tendency); the Autonomists, those Marxists who stress the primacy of political struggles and have abandoned the idea of a vanguard party in favour of worker's councils (Anton Pannekoek's 'council communism', the Situationists, and the writings of such intellec tuals as Antonio Negri are seen as reflecting this tendency9); the Anarchists, whom Tormey describes as consisting of a 'staggeringly diverse range of political currents and groups'; the radical Greens, under whose rubric Tormey mentions Bookchin and Zerzan; and, finally, the Ejercito Zapatista De Liberacion Nacional (EZLN) or Zapatistas, the army of national liberation that took over the Chiapas region of Mexico in 1 994, allowing the establishment of autonomous peasant communities in the region. Tormey suggests that the Zapatista movement is an entirely novel phenomenon, and, like the radical Greens, is 'beyond' ideology or 'non ideological ' . Peasant movements and peasant resistance to an encroaching capitalism are hardly new phenomena, and the notion that some movement or organization is 'non-ideological' is itself profoundly ideological. The ideology of the Zapatistas is clearly evident in the writings ofthat shadowy figure Subcomandante Marcos, who seems to have become the sole 'spokesperson' for the indigenous peasant communities of the Chiapas. His letters and declarations to the Mexican people and the world empha size the rights of the indigenous people of Mexico to land and liberty, articulate as central demands democracy and social justice, and emphasize the need to restore the national sovereignty of the Mexican state. 1O Unfortunately with regard to anarchism, Tormey evinces some rather quaint ideas, and two are noteworthy: firstly, that Karl Marx was a true anarchist, unlike Proudhon and Bakunin - whom Marx, we are told, continualJy berated for their political limitations; secondly, that many anarchists are supporters of capitalism. It has often been suggested that Marx and anarchists like Bakunin were in fundamental agreement as to the aims of the revolutionary movement, in that they both envisaged a future society that would be socialist and stateless. Maxmilien Rubel, in fact, even suggested that Marx was not an authoritarian socialist but rather the first 'to develop a theory of anar chism' . But, as many people have argued, the aims of Marx and Bakunin were quite dissimilar, in that the future envisaged by Marx looked to a high degree of industrial technology, with a corresponding degree of central ized institutions through which the social and economic life would be 'managed'. The state, for Marx and Engels, would 'administer' society. As they put it in their address to the central committee of the Communist League ( 1 850): the workers must strive to create a German republic, and 174
REVIEW ARTICLES within this republic strive 'for the most decisive centralization of power in the hands of the state authority' . No wonder Bakunin, with some prescience, saw this as inevitably leading to the emergence of a highly despotic government. Marx was certainly no anarchist in his politics, whatever his vision of a future communist society. I I What about anarchists who supposedly support capitalism? Tormey mentions individualist anarchists like Tucker, Spooner and Warren, and anarcho-capitalists like Ayn Rand and David Friedman. Although the nine teenth-century individualist anarchists or mutualists advocated private property, petty commodity production, and a market economy, it is ques tionable, given their emphasis on liberty, whether they would have supported the kind of global capitalism that i s now rampant throughout the world. It is evident from their writings that they rejected both capitalism and communism - as did Proudhon.l2 As for Ayn Rand being an anarchist, the suggestion is quite bizarre. Not only was she Margaret Thatcher's guru and a strident advocate of lassez-faire capitalism, Ayn Rand was also an advocate of the 'minimal' but highly repressive state, necessary to support private property rights. Anarcho-capitalists like Friedman and Murray Rothbard simply replaced the state with private security firms, and can hardly be described as anarchists as the term is normally understood. In the final chapter Tormey offers some interesting reflections on the future of the global anti-capitalist movement. He seems to have a strong predilection for the idea of 'novelty' , although of course all social phenomena exhibit both continuity and change. He writes as if social networks never existed until the computer was invented or was theorized by fashionable academic icons like Gilles Deleuze. But he seems to acknowledge that demonstrations against the Vietnam war or the large demonstrations focused around environmental issues were not simply an expression of 'identity' politics but were in essence both global and anti capitalist, bringing together people of diverse political persuasions. Drawing a stark contrast between democratic, official, party politics, with its emphasis on the 'capturing of power' - vertical and ideological politics - and 'network' or 'rhizomatic' politics with the emphasis on social networks - horizontal, spontaneous, disorganized and transient - Tormey seems to by-pass entirely the strategy that has long been that of the anar chists, namely, the support and creation of voluntary organizations. The very term ' social ' implies enduring social relationships, and without some form of social life - village communities, local assemblies, workers' coun cils, producers' co-operatives, housing or neighbourhood associations, affinity groups, anarchist federations - one could not even obtain one's daily bread, let alone decide how to co-operatively produce it. The Zapatistas certainly do not live in a world of computers and disembodied spontaneous 'networks' . But overall Tormey's book is an excellent guide 1 75
ANARCHIST STUDIES to the global anti-capitalist movement, and has a useful glossary and a chronology of the events and initiatives relating to the movement since 1 998. REFERENCES 1. A. Giddens, The Third Way, Cambridge: Polity Press 1 998, p43. 2. Wayne Ellwood, The No-Nonsense Guide to Globalization, London: Verso 200 1 , p \ 07. 3. The Economics and Politics of the World Social Forum, Research Unit for Political Economy 2003, p5. 4. See Perspectives on Anti-Capitalism in Organise No 56, 200 1 , E. Bircham & J. Charlton, Anti-Capitalism, London: Bookmarks 200 1 , pp271 -283. 5. Naomi Klein, No Logo, London: Flamingo 2000; Noam Chomsky, Profit over People, New York: Seven Stories Press 1 999; Arundhati Roy, The Ordinary Person s Guide to Empire, London: Flamingo 2004. 6. See I. Wallerstein, Unthinking Social Science, Cambridge: Polity Press 1 99 1 , p205; and my study Kropotkin: The Politics of Community, New York: Humanities Books 2004, pp202-3. 7. I. Wallerstein, Historical Capitalism, London: Verso 1 983, p27. 8. See M. Hardt & A. Negri, Empire, Cambridge: Harvard University Press 2000. 9. J. Ponce De Leon, Our World is Our Weapon, New York: Seven Stories Press 200 1 . 1 0. On these issues see K . Marx, The Revolutions of 1848, London: Penguin p328; B. Morris, Bakunin: The Philosophy ofFreedom, Montreal: Black Rose Books 1 993, pp I 25-35; P. McLaughlin, Mikhael Bakunin, New York: Algora, pp7678. I I . For a useful pamphlet see Joe Peacott, Individualism Reconsidered, Boston: Bad Press 1 99 1 . 1 2. On Ayn Rand see my study Ecology and Anarchism, Malvern: Images 1 996, pp 1 83- 1 92.
Brian Morris Goldsmiths College
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I Am
Not A Man. I Am Dynamite! Friedrich Nietzsche and the Anarchist Tradition John Moore (ed) with Spencer Sunshine Autonomedia 2005 I SBN 1 -57027- 1 2 1 -6, 1 5 1 pages, paperback $ 1 4.95 This book opens with a tribute by Jonathan Purkis to its editor John Moore, whose tragically early death is lamented by all readers of Anarchist Studies. Perhaps the book is best described as a series of anarchist encounters with Nietzsche. Some of these are very full engagements, whilst others are more limited and passing contacts. Either way, there are some surprises in store. Given Nietzsche's denunciations of anarchism, not to say outright abuse, one would hardly expect the often sympathetic reception which Nietzsche has had from anarchists in the past and from the present writers. Yet, as both John Moore and Max Cafard remind us, there are many Nietzsches - as befits his own theories of the self and the often misunder stood doctrine of perspectivism. And of course there are many anarchisms too. As Cafard says, there is a Nietzsche who is a good friend and also one who is a good enemy of anarchism. I suspect that, when it comes to politics in the broadest terms, Nietzsche's ideal approximated to those of an aesthetic aristocracy. But there is enough in his work to provide inspiration to any other position, including that of anarchism. In fact the only political position which his writings exclude is that of Nazism - ironically the very position with which he has been most widely associated, due in part to the industrious work of fabrication by his anti-Semitic sister. The papers by Cafard, Andrew Koch and Saul Newman, which contain the most sustained anarchist engagements with Nietszche, are also those in which the differences from anarchism become most evident. Cafard's response is to accept the validity of some of Nietzsche's criticism, and in passing use him as a means of scoring a few amusing hits on some of our contemporaries. Koch's paper adopts a different strat�gy by admitting the political clash between anarchism and Nietzsche, but pointing out the compatibility at the level of epistemology. As Koch says, for Nietzsche the world was chaos and our fundamental 'truths' no more than a series of necessary illusions. Newman also takes Nietzsche's criticisms seriously, giving some weight to his charge that the classical anarchists at least, like many others, are driven by ressentiment and also by what Newman sees as a manicheism - whereby it defines itself in opposition to state theory. 1 77
ANARCHIST STUDIES Other papers are more circumspect and rely on some more generalised inspiration derived from Nietzsche. Such is the paper by Daniel Colson relating Nietzsche to the libertarian workers' movement. Otherwise, the hostility to the state which Nietzsche shares with anarchism allows some suggestion of a common cause to be insinuated into many of the papers in the collection. The collection ranges far and wide. There is, for example, a particularly fascinating paper by Leigh Starcross on Emma Goldman's lost lectures on Nietzsche. Thanks to the vigilance of the authorities in seizing 'dangerous' material, little remains of the lectures beyond reasonably sympathetic press reports. Yet it is evident that Goldman saw Nietzsche as a kindred spirit and was anxious to recruit him, albeit posthumously, for the anar chist cause. This project was aided by her recognition of the similarities between Nietzsche and Stirner, which, although obvious, have arguably not been adequately explored elsewhere. Goldman's reaction, and the paper by Allan AntlitT on the (to me) previously unknown revolutionary figure ofCoomaraswamy, serve as reminders of how influential Nietzsche was on the culture of the early years of the twentieth century. The collection also includes two papers in post-modern idiom by Riccio and Vaccaro, the former of which I at least found baffling. However, given the importance which the interpretations and appropria tions of Nietzsche by Deleuze and Foucault have assumed, it would have been remiss not to have included an acknowledgement of them. I n any case, Vaccaro's paper shows this idiom to advantage by pointing out how some of the criticisms which Nietzsche makes of the presuppositions of modern political thought can readily be used in support of anarchism. John Moore adds a fascinating paper of his own on Nietzsche's changing attitude to art. He has l ittle to say about the connection of this to anarchist concerns with art - largely, I suspect, because he thinks (quite rightly) that the lessons are obvious. The essays start with Guy Aldred's article on Nietzsche reprinted from an issue of Freedom from 1 907. It ends, appropriately, with Peter Lamborn Wilson's brief conclusion, which takes as its starting point Nietzsche's final collapse in 1 889. Some collections of essays evidently feel compelled to advertise their common themes or core debates. This consis tently interesting collection does not do this, and it is the better for it. The encounter between Nietzsche and anarchism could never be that neat or reductive. Terry Hopton University olCentral Lancashire
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REVIEWS The CNT in the Spanish Revolution, Vol. 2 Jose Peirats (trans. Paul Sharkey and Chris Ealham) Edited and revised with an introduction by Chris EaIham Christie Books, Sussex 2005 I SBN 1 873976259, 3 1 2 pages, hardcover There seem to be two Jose Peirats in this volume. One, discussed in Chris Ealham's excellent introduction, is a working-class auto-didact, a true 'proletarian' intellectual. The activist Jose Peirats criticised both the more moderate 'treintistas' within the anarcho-syndicalist CNT (Confederacion Nacional del Trabajo - National Confederation of Labour) and the radicals who advocated 'revolutionary gymnastics' during the early years of the Spanish second republic. When the revolution did come - as a conse quence of the army's rebellion against the Republic in July 1 936 Peirats adopted a stance critical of the CNT leadership's attempt to accommodate itself with capitalist democracy to the extent of entering both the central government in Madrid and the Catalan 'generalitat'. However, there are only snapshots of this astute activist in the pages of this second volume of his history of the CNT during those vital years. This can in part be explained by the time span covered by the second volume: from late autumn 1 936 (after the CNT had entered the government) to the end of 1 937 (after it had been removed from government and lost its ability to play a major role in events, as Peirats illustrates). In volume one Peirats discussed the first days of the revolution after the army's failed coup, the agricultural collectives that followed and the CNT's fateful decision to join the government. The second volume considers what were largely the defeats and setbacks of the libertarian movement after autumn 1 936: the problematic relations between the CNT and the other major trade union, the UGT (Union General de Trabajadores - General Workers' Union); the Spanish Communist Party's (Partido Comunista de Espana - PCE) role in exacerbating these difficulties; and other intrigues that led to 'the tide of counter-revolution'. This includes the Mayday events of 1 937; the subsequent crisis of the Largo Caballero government; the destruction of the revolutionary Council of Aragon in June 1 937; the decline in the CNT's influence and the Communists' take-over of the UGT leadership and ousting of Caballero. The only positive aspect for the liber tarians in this volume is the chapter on the war industries. A notable feature of Peirats' work is that he allows many of the main protagonists to speak, by reproducing primary documents, sometimes in their entirety, including letters, articles and news reports from all the various left wing groups' publications, and the texts of speeches delivered by key figures like Federica Montseny. So much so, that at times the volume seems more like a history 'reader' . (The censor's pen is evident at -
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ANARCHIST STUDIES times, but a remarkable amount of material that was highly damning of the Stalinists and their allies escaped their attentions.) This is not to say that Peirats the historian is eclipsed. He is keen to expose PCE/Stalinist manoeuvrings and the duplicity of these and the more moderate elements that supported thein. H is anger is palpable, for example, in the discussion of the PCE intrigues preceding the Maydays, 1 937, when the government's seizure of the CNT-controlled Barcelona telephone exchange provoked days of street fighting. Then, the Stalinists, who had supposedly wanted all arms at the front, suddenly happened to have arsenals in the rearguard, just as the anarchists they criticised. Peirats also applauds the CNT's achievements, sometimes a little too triumphantly. For example, his description of the defence of Madrid in autumn 1 936 is compelling, but it does read like pro-CNT propaganda, attributing most of the successes of that action to the organisation's mili tants. Chapter four, 'The Miracle of the War Industries', is another example of this. As the chapter title suggests, Peirats praises the war indus tries in Catalonia and attributes their successes largely to the CNT (p84). Clearly, Peirats is expected to be partisan. His dedicated involvement in the events he discusses is a major strength of his work. But at times this partisanship is a little too uncritical. For example, on page 64 he rejects a communist version of events and then quotes a regional CNT newspaper that 'explains the facts' . When it comes t o mistakes the CNT made, and its revolutionary critics' attitudes, the historian Peirats appears more circumspect, especially when compared to the historical actor Peirats. He thus makes no detailed mention of the dissident ' Friends of Durruti' group, which came to the fore during the Maydays, 1 937. Highly critical of the CNT leadership, it sought to reverse the counter-revolutionary tide. Chris Ealham speculates that Peirats might have been involved with the ' Friends of Durruti ' had he beel1 in Barcelona at the time. But Peirats says little here except that the group was 'extremist' . (p 1 24). The controversial issue of the CNT's role in government is sporadically dealt with in this volume. Early on, Peirats mentions that after the CNT entered the Madrid government it immediately failed to use its supposed new influence to stop the administration moving from Madrid to Valencia. But he makes nothing more of this (pp 1 2- 1 6). Some fifty pages later he appears to be more supportive of the movement's 'governmentalist' stance. He recognises the failings of the popular tribunals, but argues that they were still better than what passed for justice before (pp67-72). The 'Cenetista' Garcia Oliver comes in for praise as the Minister for Justice, who momentarily secured justice for ordinary people (p72). The only sustained criticism of the CNT in this volume is when Peirats disc4sses the political crisis engendered by the Maydays events. He writes, 1 80
REVIEWS 'The CNT stumbled into the first and gravest of its crises for want of polit ical acumen and, indeed, for want of a policy at all' (p 1 43). Had 'the CNT had the nous to make full use of all the political opportunities that came its way, then [ . . . ] it might well have set its sights on the extraordinary role of arbiter in the situation in Catalonia' (pI 44). Peirats claimed that the CNT could have used its position to undermine the PCE, but it 'failed, or refused, to batten upon these, owing to its attachment to the direst of pol it ical opportunisms'. The CNT needed 'politicking of the old sort' , but it was 'unprepared for that morally or psychologically': 'One does not change the mentality of an entire movement with a simple decision to take a hand in politics. The CNT's very powerlessness to adapt its policy throughout the war is proof of that. And the most tragic thing for the CNT was the confusion of not being able to politick nor yet being able to walk away from it'. The CNT had the resources to enable it to withdraw into opposition to become an organisation 'to be respected and feared'. But it took neither of these paths and consequently 'was transplanted onto strange and slippery ground where it was forever at the mercy of the enemy's blows' (p I 44). For Peirats, 'the worst possible decision is to make no decision at all' (p 1 45). In the context of the fal\ of the Cabal\ero government, Peirats notes that the entry of the CNT into the government not only failed to change the essential characteristic of the institution - to concentrate the power of repression in its own hands - it actually helped to shore the government up. And, by doing this, the CNT weakened its own grassroots power (p 1 50). The FAI does not escape criticism, as Peirats points out that it, too, was inextricably implicated in the CNT's 'govern mentalist' position (pp203-5). For the student of the conflict this volume (and, of course, volumes one and three) is of great utility, partly because it llllows for the study of primary documents. (The vast majority of these are not footnoted, but it is usual\y clear where they are original\y taken from. Their presept physical location is not given, however.) Another plus point is the photos, but a map of the main zones of conflict might have been useful. On the negative side, some of the quoted documents, such as that relating to Italian foreign policy, are perhaps a little too long (e.g. p3). This and some other sections, such as the discussion of industrial organisation in chapter two, contain a great deal of information that can seem quite dry and undigested. The CNT in the Spanish Revolution was originally published in Spanish in three volumes in Toulouse, 1 95 1 -3 . As Paul Preston remarks, it was 'A landmark in the historiography of the Spanish revolution' . The Spanish publisher Ruedo Iberico, in exile in Paris, re-published it in 1 97 1 . Paul Sharkey and Chris Ealham's English translation is very readable: there are a couple of typos but nothing to detract from the text. The new index is also, of course, very welcome. This is an important book that provides 1 81
ANARCHIST STUDIES useful material and asks pertinent questions about a key event in modern history. And now non-Spanish speakers can read primary documents and draw their own conclusions rather than being dependent on the often selec tive quotations of professional historians who have availed themselves already of its rich seams of information. Congratulations are due to Christie Books for this edition of a classic history. Lewis H. Mates University of Durham
East End Jewish Radicals. 1875- 1914 William J. Fishman Five Leaves Press, 2005 ISBN 0907 1 23457, 336 pages, incl. appendixes and index The London Years Rudolf Rocker Five Leaves Press, 2005 ISBN 0907 1 23309 228 pages, incl. introduction by Colin Ward and epilogue by Sam Dreen This is a very welcome reprint of William J. Fishman's East End Jewish Radicals. 1875- 1914 (originally published in 1 975 by Duckworth), with Rudolph Rocker's autobiography The London Years, also long out of print, as a companion volume. With this year marking the centenary of the major 1 906 tailors' strikes in London, these books provide an opportunity to revisit an inspiring chapter of radical labour militancy: the story of the predominantly Jewish, predominantly anarchist movement of sweatshop workers in the East End. East End Jewish Radicals is a social history of this movement and of the individuals and events that shaped it. Its detailed, flowing and often gripping narrative is based on extensive archival research and on numerous interviews with the last surviving participants in the movement. The grandson of a Rabbi and son of an immigrant tailor, author Bill Fishman (85) was born and grew up in the East End, and has been its chronicler and historian for decades. Professor Fishman has lectured, led historical tours and published six books including East End 1888, which paints a vivid and complex picture of life in one of the most impoverished areas of Victorian London. Here, Jews persecuted out of Russia were met with urban .squalor, institutional racism and the sweatshop system. While 1 82
REVIEWS these harsh realities often encouraged insularity in the Yiddish-speaking community, and caused most homes to cling to the orthodox religious practices, thousands of workers also organised for self-help and resistance. By 1 888 it was also clear that, in the world's first Jewish workers' move ment, the anarchists had emerged as the largest and most influential element. While the Social Democrats theorised endlessly, the anarchists got down to business building a movement based on popular education, mutual aid, agitation and union action. Its early beginnings were with Aaron Lieberman, a Bakuninist anar chist whom Ber Borochov described as the ' Father of Jewish Socialism'. The society he initiated in 1 876, the Hebrew Socialists of London, posited Jewish liberation through that of all humanity, with the workers as the primary vehicle. The often naIve organisation-building efforts of this small workers' circle were short-lived. During the immigration waves from Russia in the 1 880s, however, the movement took an upward curve with the first genuine self-organising efforts in the tailoring industry. In 1 884 the International Workers' Educational Club was launched. The Yiddish paper Arbeter Fraint (AF) or 'Worker's Friend' , founded in 1 885 by Morris Winchevsky, was the major organ for agitation, staying above the water for years at a time. In the great strike of 1 889, Jewish tailors walked out in solidarity with striking dockers for several weeks, demanding a 1 2-hour day and no work taken home. Despite co-option and fragmentation in the aftermath, the movement sustained its infrastruc tures. S. Yanovsky and Wolff Wess turned the AF into the organ of an explicitly anarchist workers' club, with regular contributions by the likes of Kropotkin and Eleanor Marx. Fishman's interviewees never failed to recall, with true adoration, the figure of Rudolf Rocker. A non-Jewish German, Rocker ( 1 874- 1 958) was a propagandist and organiser who became the acknowledged leader of the East End Jewish radicals. The bulk of his autobiography, The London Years, is an exciting personal account from the centre of anarchist activity in pre-war London. Having fled repression in Germany, Rocker settled in London, and in 1 898 assumed editorship of the AF, reviving the paper after a long period of chronic closure. By 1 904 the paper was paying its way, reaching a circulation of 4,000 workers. The AF group - which included Rocker's partner Millie Witcop, and Sam Dreen - then rented a social centre, the Jubilee Street club. This established an autonomous space for agitation, education and organising. During the tailors' strike of 1 906 the anarchists held meetings and benefit events. Rising syndicalism took the movement forward in the face of competition from new non-polit ical Jewish social and educational institutions, as well as from Zionism. Activity was sustained despite 'anarchist scares' such as the one following the Sidney Street affair in 1 9 1 0. (Rocker, by the way, claims with credi1 83
ANARCHIST STUDIES bility that Peter the Painter was a career agent in the Tsarist Okharna! ) After the Jewish tailors went on general strike i n solidarity with their non Jewish West End counterparts in 1 9 1 2, there came 'a peak period of Anarchist activity, in which Rocker reached the zenith of his influence' (EEJR, 300). Meetings were called daily, the 1 2-page AF was regularly sold out, and the club flourished. These efforts were all cut short by the Great War, as was burgeoning anarchist activity on the mainland. Many anglicised Jews joined the army, the constant feed of immigrants ceased, and conflicting attitudes towards the war split the anarchist leadership. Kropotkin came out in support of the Allies while Rocker and Malatesta opposed the war and predicted a long and bloody conflict. Anti-German hysteria abounded, and German nationals were attacked in the streets and later interned by the thousands. Rocker, too, was arrested in December 1 9 1 4 (ostensibly as a German but really for his anti-war propaganda), and spent the rest of the war in prison camps for civilians. His experiences of internment in Olympia, the Royal Edward and Alexandra Palace take up the entire final quarter of TLY, and are in fact the most remarkable and moving part of the book. Rocker gives a touchingly human portrayal of the microcosm of camp life - with its terrible living conditions, collective punishments, and ever-present tensions with German patriots. Throughout this period Rocker never lost his dignity and courage, and his constant efforts on behalf of the prisoners - and will ingness to stand up to the British officers and censors - made him a leader here as well. Repatriated to Germany, Rocker was luckily refused entry and freed to neutral Holland, the mid-point of a life-long career of activism. Two topical threads of discussion emerge from these books. The first is that the East End Jewish anarchist movement had a clear and visible lead ership - far from the contemporary anarchist experience, which seeks to maximise participatory, horizontal forms of organisation. The Arbeter Fraint group included 2-3 dozen members at its largest (EEJR 256). It was, then, a radical intelligentsia, only partly drawn from among the workers, who organised the bulk of educational, social and strike activity. This circle of aqarchists, according to Rocker, initiated 'all the Jewish trades unions in the East End, without exception' (TLY 90). While he remembers and praises 'those ordinary working men and women . . . the backbone of the movement' (TLY 96), who selflessly contributed their little money and time, it was clearly the steerage (though not the authority or coercion) of this very small group which shaped the movement's strategic direction and ideological development. Today's concerns were hardly present in th�t period, says Fishman: 'The Jewish workers saw Rocker and the AF group not as ' Leaders', but as beloved comrades. They had given them education, a social network and a sense of solidarity and belief in themselves' (interview with author, East Side Books, Brick Lane, 1 84
REVIEWS London 23. 1 2.05). Evidently, the different class composition of the move ment today puts more weight on these issues. A final point is about what clearly held the movement back: the Jewish anarchists' uncompromising rejection of Jewish religion and traditional identity. This completely alienated them from the large majority of Jewish workers. As anarchists, they rejected the view that Jewish issues were separate, and assumed that the specific problems encountered by Jews would only be solved through social revolution. At the same time, were they throwing the baby of a mobilising identity out with the bathwater of religious constraints? Perhaps they did not recognise that the self-determi nation of Jewish workers in Britain could only take place through a Yiddish-speaking, culturally Jewish internationalist movement, rooted in a diasporaic community. The question of radical Jewish identity remains as salient today as it was then, as indicated by the estimate that up to a third of International Solidarity Movement volunteers in Palestine have been Jewish, and by the cultural tensions in I srael's small but savvy anarchist movement. A broader debate on this topic will hopefully emerge, as Jewish anarchists today respond to the Israeli/Palestinian conflict and to anti-semitism on the left, and explore the meaning of anti-nationalist, anti capitalist Jewish liberation in the twenty-first century. Uri Gordon Links: Orthodox Anarchist blog: www.orthodoxanarchist.com Messianic Troublemakers: www.zeek.netipolitics_0504.shtml
Social Democratic Politics in Britain, 1881- 1 9 1 1 Graham Johnson Edwin Mellen Press, New York 2002 I SB N 0-7734-6947-8, pp.vii + 245, $ 1 09.95/£ 69.95 In this book Graham Johnson is concerned to analyse the ideology of the British Social Democratic Federation, the vehicle for Marxist socialism in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. He does this by examining, in some detail, debates between some of the party's leading figures - men like H . M. Hyndman, Ernest Belfort Bax, James Leatham and H arry Quelch. Johnson treats these debates thematically, opening with a discus sion of economic theory before moving through historical materialism, 1 85
ANARCHIST STUDIES imperialism and patriotism to finish with class war and theories of socialist transformation. The work is well researched and draws on a range of interesting pamphlet and newspaper sources, as well as the better known published works of his leading subjects. Johnson's purpose is ideological - to show how the SDF's socialism was formed and in what it consisted. This is an interesting approach and one that is of obvious interest to historians of British anarchism; for, notwithstanding Hyndman'S fondness for Kropotkin and his warm assess ment of An Appeal ToThe Young (which he translated into English), SDFers were always keen to distinguish themselves from anarchist socialist rivals. Indeed, whilst they were prepared make common cause with the anarchists (for example, speaking out against the judicial murder of the Haymarket martyrs), many regarded the anarchists as their archrivals: more important - certainly in terms of courting revolutionary opinion - than the Fabians. The development of SDF ideology might be expected to shed new some light on this complex interaction. Yet Johnson is not interested in outlining the party's ideological position in this sense, nor is he interested in showing how the debates within the party gave rise to ideological posi tions. It is perhaps significant that he approaches his task negatively: in his introduction he explains that the book is not a history of the SDF or a history of socialist ideas. It is an account of arguments between SDFers. So rather than attempting to position the SDF within the spectrum of British socialism, Johnson instead assumes its dominance within this tradition and turns his attention to unpacking the currents of thought that circulated within it. Given that the SOF attracted a larger membership than any other revolutionary socialist group in Britain, this assumption is perhaps not unreasonable. However it is a narrow approach to the study of a party's ideology, and one that lacks a sense of politics. Johnson takes as a model for his study Karen Hunt's Equivocal Feminists a study of the SO F and the 'woman question'. Yet there are two significant differences between this work and Johnson's. First, Social Democratic Politics in Britain consciously excludes from discussion the ideas developed at branch level. Party members, Johnson argues, keenly discussed socialism, but they took their ideas from the pamphlets, leaflets and editorials penned by the leadership. In the absence of any analysis of branch life, it's difficult to test this argument. But even if Johnson is right, the response of local groups to leadership positions might usefully illus trate the ways in which elite theory translated into ideology. The second difference between these two books is that Johnson's has no central focus. Engels and Bebel provided a central problematic for feminist social democrats. Their suggestion that the problem of patriarchy would be resolved through class struggle was the starting point for feminist (and anti-feminist) debates. It's difficult to think of an equivalent for Johnson's -
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REVIEWS broader work - all the more so since Johnson is reluctant to discuss the relationship between the SDF and Continental European social democ racy. But even without such a starting point, it's disappointing to find that he tends to treat the chapters as discrete sections. There is little sense that a position on historical materialism, for example, might explain an approach towards patriotism. Admittedly Johnson points out that Harry Quelch 'expressed sympathy for subject nationalities and subject races', and that 'he justified his argument by recourse to a class analysis . . . ' ( 1 1 9). Indeed, the book is full of these observations. But Johnson does not probe them with any consistency or depth. Not even when he comes to discuss Ernest Belfort Bax - who was serious about his philosophy and who formulated distinctive positions on Marxism, patriotism, race and imperialism - is Johnson drawn to consider the relationship between his chosen themes. As a result, the book tends to read as a narrative. It gives good account of what SDF leaders argued about but does not really provide much insight into the development of the party's ideology. Ruth Kinna Loughborough University
Green States and Social Movements: Environmentalism in the United States. United Kingdom. Germany & Norway John S Dryzek, David Downes, Christian Hunold and David Schlosberg with Hans-Kristian Hernes Oxford University Press, 2003 ISBN 0- 1 9-924902-4 pbk; 0- 1 9-924903-2 £ 1 8.99 hbk, pp223 inc index, £56.00 To many this may appear an incongruous book to review in Anarchist Studies, given a primary focus upon the state and comparatively 'shallow' forms of environmentalism. Indeed, given the prominence of globalisation as a set of processes regarded as superseding the state from above, and constituting global movements from below, state centric approaches might be thought incongruous. These caveats aside, this book serves as an impor tant reminder of the variability of state forms, differentiating between exclusive or inclusionary and passive or active states. These ideal types are combined to consider actively exclusive stances (the UK 1 979- 1 990), passively inclusive (US), actively inclusionary (Norway) and passively exclusionary (Germany). The selection of a specific time period for the UK, and attention to periods of 'active exclusion' in response to civil rights, 1 87
ANARCH IST STUDIES peace and I 960s counter cultures in the USA, underlines the point that these are not uniform orientations towards the movement milieu. The book is also a useful reminder of the importance of taxation, order, defence and legiti macy as state imperatives shaping the potential for movements to enter state space. Movements threatening these imperatives are unlikely to advance their agendas within state space and subject to antagonistic responses. The authors' approach to social movements replicates elements of estab lished approaches that have been critically engaged with in AS reviews sections. Movements are addressed as expressions of collective identity (hence 'the' environmental movement), participatory and discursive, inno vative, not class based and not orientated towards capturing or overthrowing the state (pI I ). The book's primary analytical focus upon democracy as process turns away from political opportunity structures and cycles of contestation approaches, towards notions of capacity building. Dryzek's influence is central here. Dryzek is arguing that both the anatomy of the state and its discursive orientation change over time, through inter acting imperatives and social forces, summoning up the prospect of 'green states'. The point of importance here is that neither the state nor democracy are immutable, but are subject to change in terms of both form and content. Politically this underlines the importance of approaching the state one is in as a specific expression of these dynamics. To activists this work also highlights the importance of making conscious decisions about whether to exert influence directly upon the state or to prioritise engagement through 'civil society'. The case studies presented contain numerous illustrations of 'success' and 'failure' in relation to each of these strategies. Case studies are presented in a coherent way but draw on limited sources, with very little systemic attention being given to innovative modes of contesta tion utilising direct action as a preferred mode of engagement. Two examples serve to illustrate this. The 'exceptionalism' associated with the UK movement milieu receives a prominence difficult to explain given its tenuous relationship with the observable anatomy of movement innovation (pp I 22-23). The only significant exceptional ism was that of the British state under Margaret Thatcher, as movement networking across Europe had already transformed repertoires of action, leaving the supposed constraints of 'class politics' behind (see AS 4, 1 , 27-44). In terms of the US, whilst the significance of the environmental justice movement and Earth First! are acknowledged, the treatment is cursory, with the work of major writers omitted, giving little sense of the underlying dynamics and activist percep tions of state process. Anarchist influence is reflected through the bibliographic inclusion of one of Murray Bookchin's works. The ensuing focus upon shallow environmentalism within a range of institutional milieux is structured through a useful engagement with the 188
REVIEWS ascendant mainstream approaches of ecological modernisation and risk society (chpt 7). This leads to conclusions emphasising that 'if inclusion leads only to modest policy refonns, movements should think long and hard' before abandoning 'confrontational strategies' within civil society (pI 93). This resonates with arguments by Dave Morland in Purkis and Bowen's Changing Anarchism (2004), that ' Resistance against the State alone in a crude political stratagem makes little sense in the face of new understand ings of the State' (p30), pointing to Dryzek's notions of 'discursive' and 'deliberative' democracy as offering significant insights and lines of advance. This volume also addresses ecological modernisation and risk society as reformist approaches. Setting these two books together as core texts for an undergraduate module on environmental and social change would demonstrate the centrality of anarchist thought in an era of increas ingly 'fragmented' states operating within increasingly global systems. For those interested in the implications of democracy as process and the potency of discursive contestation in generating deliberation, then Dryzek's earlier sole authored works are recommended. REFERENCES Morland, D. (2004) 'Anti-capitalism and post-structural anarchism', in Purkis, J. and J. Bowen, (Eds.) Changing anarchism: anarchist theory and practice in a global age, Manchester, University Press, pp 23-38. Welsh, I. and P. McLeish ( 1 996) 'The European road to nowhere: anarchism and direct action against the UK roads programme', Anarchist Studies, 4, 1 pp 27-44. Ian Welsh
Cardiff University
Jumping the Line: The Adventures and Misadventures of an American Radical William Herrick, Introduction by Paul Bennan Oakland and Edinburgh: AK Press, 200 1 I SBN 1 -902593-42- 1 , Paper, $ 14.95/£ 1 0.00 xxiii, 279 pp Jumping the Line is a great portmanteau of a book - unwieldy, poorly packed, the contents repeatedly threatening to spill out of the narrative altogether. It is also irresistible. On the basis of his memoir, William Herrick was not a particularly likeable character: admirable in many ways, to be sure; brutally honest about his and others' failings, absolutely - but 1 89
ANARCHIST STUDIES difficult to feel affection for. Yet his story is so compelling in large part because he does not disguise his shortcomings, especially in youth and early adulthood. 'Jumping the line', Herrick informs us, is 'hobo slang for hopping a freight, hitting the road, copping a beat, skedaddling' (p. ix), and in his youth he did his share ofhoboing through the Midwest and Southeast from his home in New York City. But jumping the line serves as a metaphor for the larger story of his life as recounted here, the decision to end what had been a lifelong association with the Communist party. Countless other memoirs have sketched the world of immigrant Jewish radicalism in New York City, but none has done so better than Herrick. He demonstrates bril liantly what immersion in the world of the Party meant: it permeated almost every aspect of one's existence so that to leave it meant repudiating not simply a political affiliation but also a way of life, an identity. That identity was formed early. Herrick grew up in Trenton, New Jersey, and the Bronx. His father - a Russian immigrant - died when Herrick was four, so he and his sister and brother were raised by an improvident mother and an extended family for whom radical politics and Yiddish were common languages. His mother was a seamstress and committed Communist, and in widowhood, much to her son's dismay, unapologetically took a succession of lovers. Often moving when the accumulated arrears of rent became too great to remain, the family even tually landed in the Communist Co-ops in the Bronx, where life acquired some predictability, at least for a while. Typically, Herrick attended summer camps, read voraciously, played sports, and attended meetings of the Young Pioneers. By sixteen he was a member ofthe Young Communist League. Herrick's accounting of this milieu is at times delightful, capturing the intensity and depth of the movement's politics but balancing them with his emergent adolescent interest in sex, and the ongoing saga of his mother's lovers and the dramatically contrasting worlds in which she moved - from cafe society to union picket lines to hosting clandestine meetings of Party leaders. There is a darker side too - the braggadocio of youth doesn't entirely explain the swagger of the young Herrick. He readily admits he was insecure, that the chaos of home life took a toll, and that he was jealous of other boys and their comfort around girls and ideas. The result was an irascible, tough, angry, horny young man (his book at times reminds this reader of the unsavouriness of Elia Kazan's autobiog raphy), who never shrank from a fight and admits that he could always be relied upon when the Party needed to employ some strong-arm tactics. The order he craved he found in the Party. 'I believed everything I was told by the Party', he recalls. ' I didn't really have to be told anything, I inhaled it' (p49). Herrick, however, did not cut himself off entirely from opposing ideas: most notably, a friendship from his youth with a neighbourhood kid, 190
REVIEWS Nathan Shlechter, resonates through the years, and in Herrick's memory 'Natie' functions as his moral gyroscope. June 1 932 was an inauspicious time to graduate from high school. The nation was in the grip of the Great Depression, and Herrick soon found himself in a succession of poorly paid jobs. Salvation came the following year in the opportunity to join the Sunrise Cooperative Farm in Saginaw Valley, Michigan. This was a curious destination for a committed Communist, for the Sunrise colony was organized by anarchists; perhaps some of its principles rubbed otT on him, though it would take a series of epiphanies to detach him from his devotion to the Party. His account of Sunrise is by turns comical - the 'Yiddishists' and Communists at odds, for example, but all in agreement about the dreadfulness of the commu nally-prepared food - and sad - in its portrayal of idealism overwhelmed by petty arguments and practicalities, not least the physical and tempera mental fitness of needle trades workers for farm life. The Sunrise interlude lasted barely eighteen months. Soon Herrick was back East, picking up work where he could and establishing his value as a Party functionary, first in an abortive attempt to organize sharecroppers in southern Georgia and then on his home turf in New York organizing for the Furriers Union. By then the Popular Front had been declared. The irony of embracing those only yesterday denounced as social fascists was not lost on Herrick, but he 'was a believer; the Party was my home, and I needed it. I didn't want to go on the bum again. I wanted an anchor. The Party was my anchor . . . I needed a place. The Party was my place, my family, my tribe, my country. I fended Natie otT, knowing he was right . . . I detested the Party's new line and pretended not to, went gung ho for it, screamed at Natie, told him he was too pure' (p 1 1 8). The strength of Herrick's fidelity would be tested in Spain where he served in the earliest battles of the Abraham Lincoln battalion of the International Brigade - and where he would learn about betrayal. Though it would take a further three years before he would jump the line and quit the Party, the fissure in his political and moral universe was already growing even as he was forced to observe the worst consequences of the lie he had embraced for so long. He is as unstinting in his admiration of the courage of his fellow soldiers as he is merciless in exposing the lengths to which the Party went to undermine the Spanish revolution and those who fell outside the domain of the Popular Front, specifically the anarchists and the POUM. But it was the individual acts of injustice, cruelty, and political retribution that seemed to have left the strongest mark on Herrick. There's an odd tension at this point that Herrick never satisfactorily resolves between his growing recognition of the treachery of the Soviets and their zealous acolytes and his outrage at witnessing evidence of it. Rumours of disappearances, torture, and murder were one thing, but when he is caught 1 91
ANARCHIST STUDIES up in a Party test of his own loyalty he recognises his passive acquiescence in the execution of three young Spanish for what it is - complicity. Desertion was out of the question - those captured were executed - but in any event Herrick found he 'was able to dissemble without being truly being aware of it. My anger and my fear combined to protect me against my new enemy, my former self. Just say one word of criticism of the Comintem, the leadership, the line, and I was down your throat. I hated the very idea of giving up my nest, my mass, my friends' (p205). Repatriated because of his wounds, Herrick found himself feted as a hero and giving speeches for the cause, though neither his heart nor his mind were in it. As before, however, he needed the Party and its networks - now not only for a job - he was given light duties with his old union but also for the medical care it paid for. His exit from this world would be gradual: he trained as a court reporter - eventually organizing a union for the free lancers - stopped going to Party and front organization meetings, but retained his interest in political matters, attending meetings of other left-wing groups. The Nazi-Soviet pact of 1 939 was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. Fired by the union for denouncing the pact, Herrick picketed the union hall on 26th Street, his picket-sign reading, 'THE FIRST VICTIM OF THE STA LI N-HITLER PACT! ' . Herrick remained a political animal, but much of his energy was absorbed writing novels (encouraged initially by his old friend Natie), a number of which dealt with the Spanish Civil War (the best of which is Hermanosf), where he first published many of his revelations about Communist activities. His anger at the Party and its doings never abates, but he doesn't flee into the arms of the Right. His experiences taught him instead to be ' skeptical of all power', and he characterizes himself as an anarcho-social democrat; and I would add a mensch. Stephen Cole Notre Dame de Namur University
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