May Day, Diffusion and the Repression-Mobilization Nexus

May Day emerged to commemorate those Chicago organizers executed for their alleged involvement in the 1886 uprisings. Repression can fuel diffusion of a movement. Which drives me to think through how the police repression on campuses around the US will influence the spread of student encampments in solidarity with Palestine.  

The website https://www.palestineiseverywhere.com/ is trying to keep track of Gaza solidarity encampments around the world. Today, on May 1, it counts 106 encampments, 39 police raids on universities with 1349 arrests and 139 solidarity actions around the world. There are fewer encampments than yesterday, and more arrests and solidarity actions. It is too soon to tell what will happen next. This wave of student encampments was launched on April 17^th at Columbia University. It was evicted by the NYPD one day later. But the students returned. The eviction and the cat and mouse game that has followed has become front-page news; the images and messages circulating rapidly through social media. Across the country, encampments are springing up.  

We have seen the pattern of action-repression-diffusion before. In 2011, Occupy Wall Street, spread from one encampment in Manhattan to occupations in over 600 cities in the US three weeks later.  The pepper spraying of a group of young, white women generating a public outcry. In 2020, the George Floyd wave of protest saw action spread to 2000 cities or towns in over 60 countries. If we want to narrow our lens to student protests on campus – we can look to the well-studied case of diffusion of student shantytowns erected against South African apartheid. The first one began at Columbia in 1985, spreading to 46 campuses over the next few years (Soule 1997). Or we can look at Alex Hanna and Ellen Berrey’s work on the 2015 protests against anti-Black racism at the University of Missouri-Columbia (Mizzou) on campus, which spread to over 150 other campuses around the US.  

At its most basic level, diffusion requires a transmitting site, something to transmit, channels of transmission and a receiving site. Each of these pieces can vary, but in today’s media saturated environment, there is no lack of actions, transmission or channels. What is most likely to vary are the conditions and processes of interpretation at the receiving site. What leads students elsewhere watching the protests at Emory, at UT Austin, at Wisconsin at CUNY or Columbia to emulate and start their own encampment?  

Joining in is not automatic. Those most likely to engage in a wave are those who can identify with the ones already in motion (McAdam and Rucht 1993, 60; Tarrow and McAdam 2005, 130). This is facilitated by organizational connections, but this is also a cultural practice, shaped by relations of race, class, nationality and political ideology (Wood 2014). Right now, the students are mostly likely to set up encampments if they understand themselves as having a shared identity. Sarah Soule (1997) showed that the campuses which held a similar structural position in university networks, and whose students identified with the Columbia students were most likely to build encampments.

But what about the role of repression? Will the highly visible coverage of the eviction of pro-Palestine campus encampments, and threats of expulsion stop students on other campuses from joining in, or further motivate them? This knotty puzzle, known in the biz as the ‘repression-mobilization nexus’ finds that police violence can either escalate and de-escalate mobilization, depending on a wide range of variables. Basically, it’s complicated. However, we do know that repression activates identification; the solidarity that fuels diffusion of action. Even amongst wildly different identities, if those being repressed are understood as moral and undeserving and there is some sort of local opportunity to reflect on their similarities and differences, the repression can accelerate the spread (della Porta and Tarrow 2015; Wood 2014).  

This is not what the panicked university administrators want. But this is what those who have opted to call in the troops are likely to get.  Like the pepper spraying of the Occupy Wall Street protesters, the shooting of South African anti-apartheid activists at Sharpesville, and the police violence against immigrant workers fighting for an 8 hour day, the repression of pro-Palestine, student encampments is likely to build more solidarity and more encampments. Happy May Day, everyone.  

References 

Davenport, C., Johnston, H., & Mueller, C. M. (Eds.). (2005). Repression and mobilization (Vol. 21). U of Minnesota Press. 

Della Porta, D., & Tarrow, S. (2012). Interactive diffusion: The coevolution of police and protest behavior with an application to transnational contention. Comparative Political Studies, 45(1), 119-152. 

Linebaugh, Peter. 2016. The Incomplete, True, Authentic and Wonderful History of May Day. PM Press 

McAdam, D., & Rucht, D. (1993). The cross-national diffusion of movement ideas. The Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, 528(1), 56-74.

Soule, S. A. (1997). The student divestment movement in the United States and tactical diffusion: The shantytown protest. Social Forces, 75(3), 855-882.

Tarrow, S., & McAdam, D. (2005). Scale shift in transnational contention. Transnational protest and global activism, 121, 146.

Wood, Lesley J. (2014) Direct Action, Diffusion and Deliberation: Collective Action After the WTO Protests in Seattle. Cambridge University Press 

Palestine Solidarity Spring

It has been six months since the horror of October 7^th. And six months since the largest international solidarity movement in recent history accelerated. Such solidarity is not automatic. Daily, there is persecution and poverty around the world, and only rarely do people outside of the targeted political, ethnic or national group respond in any meaningful way. A few years ago, I looked at all the incidents of lethal political repression in 2017, I found that the police or military killed protesters in 15 countries that year. The deaths in only five, Togo, India (Gorkhaland and Kashmir), Iran, Venezuela and Israel/Palestine triggered any sort of international mobilization. These were not the cases with the largest number or most gruesome deaths. Instead, they were those connected to established international solidarity infrastructures, featuring people who acted as brokers to link the violence with local struggles, histories and identities (Wood 2019).  

The Palestine solidarity movement has one of the most elaborated infrastructures of any in the world.  It has existed for decades, linking Palestinian, Muslim and Arab communities with leftist and liberal human rights movements, other faith communities, anti-colonial movements, and anti-Zionists. David Featherstone (2012) notes that solidarity is a “relation formed through struggle which seeks to challenge forms of oppression.” This relation is embedded in histories and cultures. It must be constructed and reconstructed, adapted to the local context. Palestinian diasporic activists link their struggle to other diasporas; Irish activists frame the struggle using the language of resistance to British colonialism; Muslims through a commitment to ummah; leftists to anticolonial efforts and liberals to human rights. When a shared identity and set of values are highlighted, solidarity is easier. 

But six months is a long time for a high level of active solidarity. The bridges between identities, interests and goals can be fragile. Rana Sukarieh’s (2024) research on solidarity work around Palestine found that the different imaginaries tied to ideological and generational divides posed barriers. It is more difficult to keep the involvement of those whose interest is primarily ideological. Analyses of the civil rights and labour movements in the US showed that when mobilization is not in one’s direct interest, involvement will increasingly compete with other demands of work, life and family (McCarthy and Zald 1977). Organizers burn out from the relentless pace of activity including this bridge building work. This burnout can spread to the larger movement, and when it feels like losing traction, confusion can surface and infighting become pervasive, driving off participants.  

So, the stakes are high. Effective organizers must work to maintain momentum by paying attention to the emotional and relational dimensions of movement activity.  

These days, the horrific images and messages on our smartphones sustain the anger and sadness that keep us going. They bolster our sense that this moment is a moral test. That to be a good person means to keep pushing for a ceasefire, for an arms embargo, for Palestinian liberation. But recently, many have wearily disconnected. The bloodshed and starvation are too much to absorb. Grief and hopelessness may feel pervasive, even as international and national institutions are slowly shifting their positions.  

So, movements must nurture hope, including the kind offered by claiming and celebrating the real, small victories; the partial embargos, the statements, the food that fills hungry bellies. Even without the victories on the ground, positive emotional connection can be forged by celebrating shared action and solidarity in the face of opposition, or repression. Storytelling about gains and campaigns can also help to motivate people.  Organizers demonstrate that the struggle is not repetition; that there are multiple fronts on which to fight. Organizers keep messages fresh, and tied to the latest development in locals, national and international arenas, finding the pressure points and pushing.   

Activating connections between different sites of struggle also generates energy and positive emotion. This past week, we saw how such shared escalation revved the motor of solidarity. The “A15 – Coordinated Economic Blockade to Free Palestine” and timed for US Tax Day, (https://www.a15action.com/) was modelled on the global days of action against international financial institutions, and on multicity, coordinated climate strikes. It called for Palestine solidarity activists to target global logistical hubs in their area in order to impose economic impact. There were events in dozens of cities on four continents, and their coordination and shared promotion highlighted the unity, numbers and commitment of the movement (Tilly, Castaneda and Wood 2018). The promotional video speaks openly about imposing economic impact, and warns that repression will fuel further action; “Solidarity is affinity, and we have each other’s backs.”  

Coordinating action with dramatic, and disruptive tactics allowed the movement in solidarity with Palestine to regain the front page.  Protesters shut down the Golden Gate Bridge, ports, airports, major highways and railways. This collective effervescence was amplified by other Palestine solidarity actions, particularly the ones at Columbia University, where, on the 17^th  of April, students set up an encampment, demanding divestment (https://cuapartheiddivest.org/). In many cases, these protests were seriously repressed by police, with arrests and in some cases, serious charges. Indeed, I believe the last week saw more protest arrests in more cities than any other period during this mobilization. Counting Crowds project showed that it was the largest day of direct action in the US since 2020, with at least 26 acts of civil disobedience or direct action in 23 cities, resulting in more than 270 arrests (Counting Crowds 2024).  

These direct-action events had direct and indirect impacts on the policies and practices that support the ongoing violence, and on the reconstruction of the international solidarity movement. Directly, they cost corporations and governments money and, in some cases, legitimacy. They drew attention to the connections between local systems and the suffering in Gaza. Indirectly, the actions drew attention to the movement and its demands, with this putting pressure on authorities and attracting fresher participation. The police repression of the protests heightens that dynamic, although risks drawing public attention away from Israel/Palestine, to local policing. Within the movement, these actions energized and connected groups through building relationships and generating love, rage and solidarity.  

Spring is a time of renewal, of constructing and reconstructing relationships of solidarity. It has been a long season of suffering. We are tired. We bicker. But this week’s bravery feeds our hearts, and helps us hope.  

References 

Counting Crowds. 18 April 2024. https://countingcrowds.org/ 

Linebaugh, P., Rediker, M. B., & Rediker, M. (2000). The many-headed hydra: sailors, slaves, commoners, and the hidden history of the revolutionary Atlantic. Beacon Press. 

McCarthy, J. D., & Zald, M. N. (1977). Resource mobilization and social movements: A partial theory. American journal of sociology, 82(6), 1212-1241. 

Sukarieh, R. (2024). Political imaginaries of solidarity: the Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions (BDS) in Toronto. Social Movement Studies, 1–16. https://doi.org/10.1080/14742837.2024.2321132 

Tilly, C., Castaneda, E., Wood, LJ (2018) Social Movements 1768-2018. Routledge 

Wood, L. (2019). “Lethal Repression and Transnational Solidarity” in Rule and Resistance beyond the Nation State: Contestation, Escalation, Exit. Edited by F. Anderl/ C. Daase/ N. Deitelhoff/ V. Kempf/ J. Pfister/P. Wallmeier. Rowman & Littlefield International.  

Building a Next System

Last week, at the opening dinner of a multi-day meeting, the host, an organizer from the Democracy Collaborative suggested that, like the 1947 session at Mont Pèlerin that launched neoliberalism, this meeting could change the world. It was a bold claim. Like that infamous gathering, this one included comfortable beds and good wine at the Pocantico Conference Center, historic home of the Rockefellers. We were trying to build a new world in the very pretty but grotesquely endowed shell of the old. And so, and yet, my punk rock heart sneered the words ‘sell out!” to my brain, as I wondered, “When could a meeting change the world?”  

I’m home now, and it is too soon to tell. But when Friedrich Hayek, Milton Friedman and Karl Popper and the gang left Mont Pelerin, did they believe that their conversations would succeed in demonizing government intervention into the economy? That would lead to the slashing and burning of the welfare state?  That would herald free trade and all the suffering that came with it.  

Clearly, some meetings are more influential than others. As organizer and sociologist Marshall Ganz points out, a group’s strategic capacity is maximized when diverse stakeholders come together, draw on their experiences and repertoires, and play with ideas collectively. Then they must also have the capacity to operationalize what they decide. This seemed to happen at last week’s gathering. There was an array of folks involved in projects building economic democracy.  This included those who promote ‘subversive investing’ and those who are involved in #landback; others who are building cooperative movements or working in the labour movement. Most were part of projects that explicitly imagined beyond the market and capitalism, and many identified indigenous knowledge as central to their approach.  They included networks like the People’s Network for Land & Liberation; the Wellbeing Economy Alliance, the Center for Economic Democracy, the US Solidarity Economy Network, Encuentro5 and others. We identified the the similarities and differences amongst approaches to building a next system. About how to get beyond capitalism, colonialism and heteropatriarchy. About how to connect the lifeboats.   

I’ve been part of organizing discussions for years – I have seen a lot of manifestos, platforms, and ten point programs.  And campaign and network initiatives. Plus layers of projects, assemblies, coalitions and organizations.  They can be more than the sum of their parts. In 1996, in the wake of the collapse of the Soviet Union, there was a sense that we needed to more clearly articulate the way we were building a new world. There was a turn to prefiguration. I attended an anarchist conference called Active Resistance that prioritized four strategies – Cooperatives, collectives and alternative economics; Community organizing; Building Revolutionary Movements: Education and Development; and Art and Revolution.  

Almost thirty years later, I can see the traces of that moment in the efforts to “Resist and Build”. There is a more complex understanding of the ways that political and economic power converge, how relationships to the non-humans and ecological systems matter, how intersectional oppressions operate, how networked approaches can coordinate; and how multiple crises intersect and accelerate. There is a maturity about the need for resources, and a recognition that nothing is pure. While prefiguration is inherent in some of these efforts, and the critique of the non-profit industrial complex, there was also a sense that sometimes one does need to use a couple of the master’s tools to take down the masters’ house. While remaining aware of the risk of cooptation.  Unlike the Mont Pelerin program, there was a recognition of the value of pluralism, a diversity of tactics, of ‘one no, many yeses’.   

As an academic, my role at this meeting was to help to build networks of scholars and activists contributing to this next system. We are ‘imaginal cells’ at universities including UNAM in Mexico City, the University of Vermont, Georgetown and George Mason University. While some are developing ‘Next System Studies’ as a discipline, my approach is to connect the diverse ideas and practices already percolating in various disciplines. That already, there are ecologists, sociologists, engineers, economists, psychologists, writers and artists working on building resilience and networking the lifeboats as the existing systems fail.  

Since the meeting, I remain uncertain. Bemused by the contradictions, and leaning into them. I trust that the people there will keep resisting and building. And a meeting is just a moment, in an ongoing effort that has been nurtured for years. Such spaces are urgent and partial.  They are ongoing and they are multiplying.  

If must die: Collective Mourning

Someone told me that the poem “If I must die”, written by Palestinian poet Refaat Alareer in the days before he was killed by Israeli airstrikes in Gaza prompted the fastest, and most diverse translation project in human history. A few days after he died, there were dozens of versions – flying in the virtual ether.

Tonight, in the packed bookstore, listeners crowded into the doors to hear “Hyphenated Torontonians’ read theirs. The Yiddish and Tamil speakers read it in the language they were learning as adults. A Hindi speaker spoke of India’s historical support of Palestinian sovereignty, now abandoned by its nationalist, authoritarian regime. The Persian spoke of women, life and freedom before she spoke. The Argentine reader, grieved it in Spanish, and the French one, mourned the loss of her mother tongue. So too, did the English reader, grieving the loss of his Arabic. One reader, in a neglected Chinese dialect lifted her words up into the room. The Bosnian reader wept, explaining that her librarian sister had been killed in Sarajevo, defending the books. 

No one could understand all the words, but all of us recognized the grief, the loss and the beauty of language. Of languages. Of tongues. We listened to the rhythm of the poem over and over. Italian. English. Arabic. Hebrew. Tagalog. Japanese. A choir. A crowd. 

Like the Jewish funeral procession this morning where we walked quietly. En masse. To the beat of the drum. And to the Yiddish song, rising and falling, sounding like die, die, de die, de die die de die… Until we came to the steps of the Israeli consulate. To sing. To grieve and place red handprints on white cloth. To remember. And then to place the reddened sheet down, in the way. To say kaddish and to lay the stones. 

In this gathering place, we grieve and we gather. Human and separate. Soft and together. 

Refaat Alareer

1979-2023

If I must die,
you must live
to tell my story
to sell my things
to buy a piece of cloth
and some strings,
(make it white with a long tail)
so that a child, somewhere in Gaza
while looking heaven in the eye
awaiting his dad who left in a blaze—
and bid no one farewell
not even to his flesh
not even to himself—
sees the kite, my kite you made, flying up
above
and thinks for a moment an angel is there
bringing back love
If I must die
let it bring hope
let it be a tale

100 Days of Protest – Keeping On, Keeping On

It’s been 100 days since Hamas’ horrendous attacks, and the launch of Israel’s brutal, bloody offensive. Almost 100 days too since the first protests. Led by the Palestinian community and its allies, this wave of protest has mobilized sections of the labour movement, human rights activists, peace activists, health care workers, journalists, youth, and many, many others. 

This week, Toronto’s Chief of Police Myron Demkiw announced that there had been 300 Toronto protests related to Israel/Palestine since October 7th. 300 protests in 100 days. That is an extraordinary level of organizing. I have studied Toronto protests for over 20 years (and been part of movements in the city for 40) and I have never seen such a sustained and multifaceted level of mobilization.   The 300 protests (3 a day on average – although they are clustered on weekends) include large weekend marches and rallies in downtown Toronto, with six or seven marches that attracted thousands. They include school, college and university walkouts. They include dozens of overpass protests at 20 sites in the Greater Toronto Area. They include days of action targeting Members of Parliaments, vigils, canvassing and others. That’s not mentioning the dozens of speaking events, phone zaps, hunger strikes, postcard campaigns, teach-ins, film nights, fundraisers, and art. And let’s not talk about meetings. 

There are few similar cases in recent Canadian history. One might consider the 2012 Quebec student strike against tuition increases. Montreal saw over 100 days of protest, with a third of Quebecois students (250,000) engaged, and the largest protests attracting 200,000.   Nightly protests were fuelled by the perceived evidence of success, as government officials hedged and wavered; by the joy in youthful, creative street takeovers, and then, by outrage at repression, as thousands were arrested and pepper sprayed. The daily protests ended after seven months, with government resignations and commitments, along with extensive police brutality, and the passage of new laws controlling demonstrations.   Perhaps a better example would be the 2009 Toronto Tamil protests demanding a ceasefire by the Sri Lankan government. The protests which started in January with student mobilizations and later included sit ins on University Avenue and rallies on the Gardiner Expressway. There were daily protests in Ottawa and Montreal as well. Eventually, after 173 days, the daily protests outside the US Consulate in Toronto ended. The war had been declared over, but a humanitarian catastrophe remained. 

We can see a similar dynamic here and now. The bombs keep dropping on Gaza, and each video of fresh horrors leads to despair. It is difficult to keep going week after week, when their impact isn’t always clear.  Organizers face not only in getting the numbers into the streets; but in managing the energy and emotions of the movement. As 20th century organizer and author of “Rules for Radicals”, Saul Alinsky quipped, “A tactic that drags on too long becomes a drag.” A movement that feels stuck, loses energy. Organizers must work hard to keep up the momentum.

When movements attract large numbers into the streets, and media attention, they gain a sense of their own power. It can be intoxicating. George Katsiaficas calls it the ‘eros effect’, when those in the streets fall in love with the shared humanity of one another. But honeymoons don’t last. Authorities are slow to respond to demands, and people get frustrated; particularly if it feels like their efforts are not making a difference. Ever so quickly, journalists move on, drawn to the next new thing. When this happens, organizers and activists can feel a sense of loss, even though in many cases, their events may be more organized and the public support of their demands may be higher.  

There are patterns to the way protest waves unfold. When numbers at rallies decline and media attention wanes, internal conflict often increases.  Differences and disagreements around tactics, goals and strategy that were bracketed as things accelerated, come to the fore. Splits may emerge between those who want to escalate demands and use more confrontational tactics to attract attention and participation, and those who want to expand participation by articulating winnable demands. Those who arrive later to the mobilization are sometimes particularly interested in maintaining the emotional intensity that attracted them. Often at this point in the  episode, like now, those opposing the protesters also grow impatient. Egged on by annoyed authorities, and angry opponents of the movement, police crack down on protesters in new ways. Phrases like ‘enough is enough’, and ‘you’ve made your point’ are muttered. This can drive movement-police tensions to become a focal point of conflict. Small sparks can trigger confrontation. Counter-protesters feed into this logic and exponentially intensify the likelihood of clashes between police and protesters. It is often difficult for organizers to resist the temptation to put energy into these confrontations, given that they have the emotional intensity the movement desires. They make concrete the forces against the movement. And harden the boundary between us and them.

Long struggles against stubborn authorities are marathons, not sprints. Maybe especially these days, where our attention spans are limited, and the brutal violence is not local, organizers must work so hard to keep things fresh. From the US civil rights movement to the migrant justice movement, organizers know that they can re-energize movements through paying close attention to contradictions that can be highlighted, to organizing around significant dates, and by innovating in terms of participating sectors, tactics, targets and demands. Keeping things fresh gives sparks of hope. In this protest wave, one can see these bursts of energy around demands focussing on ceasefire, on arming Israel, and most recently on the case at the International Court of Justice. We see particular sectors and communities mobilizing – Health Providers, Workers, Journalists, as well as sections of the Jewish, Tamil, Chinese, and Latin American communities. Energy is drawn with new sites of protest, like MPs offices, businesses, and overpasses.  New tactics offer excitement, whether they are singing, flyering, sit ins, die-ins, strikes or walkouts. Each shift can re-engage media and bring in new participants. 

Nonetheless, the exhaustion one feels in these long mobilizations is reasonable. The bloodshed is unrelenting. But it is important to remember the gains the movement has made. In addition to being part of a widespread uprising rejecting slaughter and siege, the movement has changed public opinion. Most people in Canada now support a ceasefire and this has succeeded in pushing the federal government to vote for a ceasefire at the United Nations. Corporations affiliated with Israel’s war efforts are more skittish and defensive. Important discussions are taking place about power and state violence. Public support for Palestinian freedom and a desire for peace and justice has never been higher.  It is not enough, but these are concrete changes that will gird future efforts. The legacy of this movement is still emerging.  New formations and relationships exist where they did not. There are new skills. New formations. New courage. In the midst of horror, the movements provide succor, showing that ordinary people care, and that together, they can and do make change. This is something. And they call it struggle for a reason. 

References

Alimi, E., Bosi, L., & Demetriou, C. (2012). Relational dynamics and processes of radicalization: A comparative framework. Mobilization: An International Quarterly, 17(1), 7-26.

Alinsky, S. (1989). Rules for radicals: A pragmatic primer for realistic radicals. Vintage.

Davenport, C., Johnston, H., & Mueller, C. M. (Eds.). (2005). Repression and mobilization (Vol. 21). U of Minnesota Press.

della Porta, D., & Tarrow, S. (2012). Interactive diffusion: The coevolution of police and protest behavior with an application to transnational contention. Comparative Political Studies, 45(1), 119-152.

Koopmans, R. (1993). The dynamics of protest waves: West Germany, 1965 to 1989. American sociological review, 637-658.

Moyer, B. (1987). The movement action plan: A strategic framework describing the eight stages of successful social movements.

Reynolds-Stenson, H., & Earl, J. (2018). Clashes of conscience: Explaining counterdemonstration at protests. Mobilization: An International Quarterly, 23(3), 263-284.

Wang, D. J., & Soule, S. A. (2016). Tactical innovation in social movements: The effects of peripheral and multi-issue protest. American Sociological Review, 81(3), 517-548.

Never Again for Anyone and Charges of Antisemitism

Lesley Wood, Toronto

Statement read by supporter at support rally at York University, and by phone at Jews Say No to Genocide rally

30 Nov 2023

As someone who grew up proud but private about their Jewishness, to be labelled an anti-Semite is a horrible thing. My great grandparents fled the pogroms of Poland. Nazis killed members of my family. My 95-year-old father survived the anti-Semitism in Britain during World War II. To protect us, I was discouraged from drawing attention to our Jewishness.  But my father also taught me that to be Jewish meant to speak on the side of the oppressed. He taught me that the history of the Holocaust meant Never Again, for Anyone. That our history, the history of the Jewish people meant that one must fight for justice. So, I must do so now; knowing that some will say I have no right to speak. 

Last Wednesday at 5:30 am, seven police officers broke down the door of our home and dragged my partner and I out of bed. We were handcuffed and our house was searched. What were they looking for? They ignored the menorah. They ignored the song sheet from Jews Say No to Genocide lying on the kitchen table. Instead, they took us to the station and charged us with mischief and conspiracy. The hate crime unit is leading the investigation. They are dragging our names through the mud. I, like others charged, have been suspended from my position at the university.

We are accused of putting posters on a shop window, posters that were trying to stop a genocide. Trying to stop the slaughter of thousands of Palestinians by Israel’s Defence Forces. They accuse us of conspiring to tell people that Indigo’s CEO funds soldiers who volunteer for that army. That army that has, (my heart aches), killed over 6000 children; that has taken over 15,000 lives. That army and that government that is turning the trauma of the Holocaust into rocket fire. 

It is grotesque. Orwellian. Hate crime charges used to stop those speaking out against hate. Charges targeting those who work for a peaceful, freer and more just future for both the Palestinians and the Israelis. That target those who believe that life is sacred. Who believe that peace is necessary to protect life. I will fight these charges, knowing that they are intended to stop those Jews and non-Jews who call for a permanent ceasefire. But I know that we will continue to embody that lesson from the Holocaust that says, Never Again, for Anyone.

Why is this mobilization different from other mobilizations?

Right now, there is a worldwide upsurge of disruptive protest. Enormous and almost daily protests across the world; widespread sit-ins and blockades of weapons manufacturing, of businesses that fund Israel’s military, and of government offices. This movement for a ceasefire, and in support of Palestinian freedom is accelerating. In Canada, activists have held sit-ins in at least 19 MPs offices, die-ins at banks, stores, streets, highways, train stations and elsewhere. Students have walked out of high schools and universities. Constituents flood their representatives’ offices with thousands of calls and emails. Activists spread graffiti, and posters calling for a ceasefire throughout cities. Social media is aflame and tempers are frayed. Police have arrested hundreds, if not thousands of protesters around the world.

In many ways, this wave of protest shares the features of others. Those who study social movements, like myself, know that movements often emerge and accelerate in response to some sort of opening or triggering event. This can be an opportunity or a threat or both. When waves of protest can emerge from such events, they do follow similar trajectories. While they accelerate, they tend to attract people, try new tactics and messaging, and as they build, they get bolder. This stage of the wave may be quick or slow, and its expansion may be society wide, or selective; local or global. The form any single wave of protest takes is structured and fueled by existing relationships and resources; shaped by stories, identities and ongoing interactions. 

This mobilization emerged as a reaction to a spike in horrendous violence, first by Hamas and then, by Israel. Like the mobilization spawned by the killing of George Floyd, or the attacks of 9/11, the violence provided a sense of moral outrage. Outrage, fear, as well as empathy with those harmed built solidarity and fostered a sense of urgency. The attacks hardened identity boundaries between ‘them’ the perpetrators and ‘us.’

When a movement emerges from such an event, already politicized ‘movement entrepreneurs’ build on these emotions of fear and shock to mobilize for what are often longstanding demands. The horrors of 7 October led politicians and the broader public to show compassion for Israelis and Jews more generally. There were large vigils and rallies. Tragically, the combination of the outrage at the violence and the support made it easier for Israel to demonize the Palestinians and their supporters and to declare war. Since that time, the acceleration of Israel’s ethnic cleansing are unmistakable, and this has revitalized a pre-existing Palestinian solidarity movement, now joined by a global movement calling for a ceasefire. 

From my location in Toronto, I want to mention five important influences on the form and characteristics of this wave of protest locally, and across North America.  

First, it is shaped by the legacy of the Holocaust and anti-Semitism. The Jewish intergenerational trauma triggered by the October 7 attacks activated Jewish identity boundaries and stories.  Israeli government spokespeople were quick to describe the Hamas attackers as Nazis and framed the attack as a new Holocaust. Given the significance of the Holocaust as representing the ultimate evil, this frame intensified emotions. Israel’s government and its supporters used it to justify its killing of 11,000 in the name of Never Again. They are also using it to silence and criminalize its critics.  This moment built on a decade long effort, led by Zionist organizations and Israel to conflate Judaism with Zionism, and criticism of Israel with anti-Semitism. From this position, those who criticize Israel’s siege of and bombing of Gaza are called anti-Semites, and even Nazis. Particularly when they are people of color. This has created confusion about how to stop the real and dangerous surge in antisemitism. 

This hardening of identity boundaries around Judaism as Zionism is also mobilizing Jews demanding a ceasefire. We know that moments of intense political action can utilize existing identities and they can transform and establish new identities.  The weaponization of accusations of antisemitism is drawing new people into an activated Jewish activist identity.  When Zionists exile Jewish critics of Israel across the boundary, they also help to mobilize a shared Jewish collective identity around “Not In My Name.” The stories told by these activists challenge the story told by mainstream Jewish institutions. Because identifying in this way comes at a cost to many of the people adopting it, its adoption corresponds with an intensified commitment.  Like the way that southern Black identity during the civil rights movement became an activist identity, this Jewish identity lifts up the long and vibrant history of Jewish radicals like Emma Goldman and Noam Chomsky, Rusty Bernstein and Joe Slovo. These activists fought with the oppressed of many stripes, from workers, to poor people, to queers, to those challenging apartheid in South Africa, and joining the longstanding efforts of Jewish and non-Jewish activists who support the Palestinians as they fight against their own experience of apartheid.  Their story explains the lesson of the Holocaust as “Never Again for Anyone.” This has fueled repeated, large direct action protests, led by groups like If Not Now, Independent Jewish Voices, and Jewish Voice for Peace. 

Second and relatedly, this mobilization is shaped by the inadequacy of political institutions. For decades, the United Nations has condemned Israel’s settlements and treatment of the Palestinians, using human rights law that emerged from World War II, but are unable to change the situation. Elected politicians seem more fearful about being seen as antisemitic than being seen to support ethnic cleansing. But grassroots social movements are politics by other means. When politicians resist the popular pressure of the movement to call for a ceasefire, they risk losing support and may put themselves into a legitimacy crisis. With political authorities frozen, the movement is expanding its targets for lobbying, sit-ins, disruption and direct action to public events, banks, arms manufacturers, corporations, streets and transportation facilities. 

Third, the rise of ethnonationalism around the world is both emboldening Israel and escalating fears that antisemites, ethnonationalists and fundamentalist movements more generally will take advantage of this moment and this movement. As a result, organizers of many of the events I have observed are vigilant about ensuring consistent messaging on signs and flags at events.  For fear of being misrepresented and mischaracterized, they ask participants to direct the media to spokespeople. Marshals at events are also trained to monitor the crowd for counter-protesters, as well as for police repression. In many cities, right wing nationalists have been escorted out of events. The context of rising hate and polarization has pushed organizers to maintain an unusual level of discipline and vigilance. 

Fourth, this mobilization is shaped by a fragmented media milieu, one that trades in images and video. This is constantly evolving and with the decline of Facebook, and Twitter, the current moment is more fragmented than that of 2003 or even 2020. Each generation is communicating, consuming news and connecting on different platforms, and the algorithms are further fueling political polarization and echo chambers. People do not trust information, especially the information that challenges their position. Before social media, the 2003 global anti-war movement connected people through listservs, broadcast media and websites, with fewer voices, slower. In addition, Instagram, Youtube and Tiktok’s platforms mean the currency of these sites is visual and emotional. People are seeing images of more dead bodies and live executions than ever before. Heartwrenching first person testimonials go viral. The circulation of material is fast and horrific, and drives urgency and reactivity by the movement. The emotional intensity, the ways that the media context reinforces already existing positions, and pushes conflictual posts drives activists to escalate, and build in ways that aren’t always strategic in terms of stopping the violence. It is easier to call for a demonstration, or to go viral with provocative content than it is to go deeper, to be strategic. It is also exhausting and difficult to sustain, suggesting that it will be hard for this movement to maintain its current level of intensity. 

Finally, this mobilization is shaped by the features and politics of the organizations and movements involved.  This field of movements is shaped by both experienced players, and newly mobilized youth. In Canada, international groups like the Palestinian Youth Movement are organizing many of the largest protests, bringing the Palestinian, and Arab Muslim communities into the streets.  They are supported by activists from the indigenous led movements for decolonization, land and water who provide skills, networks and bodies, bridging the struggles for self-determination, land and water.  There are also many veterans of the 2020 wave of black led anti-racist protests for abolition and defunding the police, with queer and femme activists at the core, emphasizing the leadership of the oppressed, equity, accessibility, and community care. The radical sectors of the labour movement are active. And perhaps most importantly, this mobilization has youth at its center. The Palestinian Youth Movement, and the youth led Jewish coalitions like Jews Against Genocide, share with the climate justice movement an impatience with existing institutions. 

Although Israel’s military operation continues to be supported by powerholders in the global system, the demand for a ceasefire is gaining extremely broad support. Nonetheless, the evolution of the wave will continue to be shaped by the contested legacy of the Holocaust and antisemitism on Jewish identity and institutions, by youth led, anti-colonial movements, by the volatile social media context, and by rising ethnonationalism. It is not yet clear what will happen next, but these forces are electrifying a movement that is calling the question on whether the global system has the willingness and the capacity to defend human rights and to stop ethnic cleansing. 

Thank you to TM for their help with this.

A Rushed History of General Strikes (in Canada)

A general strike occurs when the members of more than one union (sometimes all unions) stop working in order to achieve political or economic objectives. The strike puts pressure on the targeted powerholders, by disrupting business as usual and increasing public anger. This dynamic, especially when it gets public support onside, increases the leverage of the strikers, and puts intense pressure on authorities.

While public disruption as protest has a long and spicy history, general strikes as we know them today became possible with the emergence of labour unions in the late 1800s. From the beginning, such strikes weren’t simply about wages. Early general strikes in Europe demanded universal (male) suffrage; fought against the use of soldiers as strikebreakers, as well as wage freezes. The 1905 general strike in Russia pushed the Tsar to promise to create a Constitution and National Legislature.[1] General strikes became less frequent in Europe after WWII, but continue to be used as a strategy to make change.

In the past few years, India has seen frequent and massive general strikes against Modi’s privatization reforms.[2] Such strikes block rails, shut down businesses and create maximum disorder in order to put pressure on the government. This week, private and public sector unions in Greece are holding one, in opposition to rising prices and shrinking rights for workers.[3] There are others occurring in Belgium, the West Bank, India, and France.

In Canada, the most well-known (but not the first) general strike occurred in 1919 in Winnipeg. It was a period of high unemployment and inflation and workers in the building and metal trades had been attempting to negotiate a contract. Talks broke down and the Winnipeg Trades and Labour Council called for a general strike. Workers from both private and public sector, in different occupations walked off their job in solidarity with the tradespeople. At one point, the RCMP attacked a group of strikers, injuring 30 and killing at least one[4].  

That year saw a wave of general strikes across Canada, although size and motivation varied. Workers from multiple sectors walked out in Amherst, Nova Scotia. There were smaller and briefer general strikes in Toronto [5], Calgary, Edmonton, Vancouver, Victoria and Prince Rupert.[6]

In 1972, an alliance of three major public sector unions in Quebec formed a Common Front to push for higher wages and better working conditions. When the government refused, they launched a general strike with 200,000 union members picketing for ten days.  In the end, three union presidents were imprisoned and the workers were legislated back to work.

Four years later, on October 26, 1976, the Canadian Labour Congress declared a general strike in opposition to the federal government’s plan to implement wage caps on workplaces with 500 or more employees, on all federal workers, and on most other public-sector employees, in an effort to stop inflation. Over a million workers walked off the job, the largest Canadian labour protest in history. The Liberal government was defeated in the next election. [7]

In British Columbia in 1987, while teachers were on strike in an effort to unionize, Premier Bill Vander Zalm and his Social Credit Party announced Bills 19 and 20, which would partially limit the right to strike and was fiercely anti-union. This context, within a province with 35% of its workers unionized triggered a province wide general strike in British Columbia, with 250,000 people walking off the job.  The Bill was later repealed by the NDP.[8]

In 1992, as neoliberal cuts to the public sector became the rage, New Brunswick Premier, Frank McKenna passed an “Expenditure Management Act that suspended scheduled public sector wage increases.” First the New Brunswick Nurses Union and the Canadian Union of Public Employees voted to strike, and then the  New Brunswick Federation of Labour for a general strike. In the end, it was only CUPE that went out, and the negotiations that followed exempted CUPE members from the freeze and the fines for striking. [9] [10] [11]

Ontario’s Days of Action in 1996 weren’t called General Strikes, but they did operate as such. When the time came for Toronto to hold theirs, it was coordinated by both the Toronto and York District Labour Council and the grassroots Metro Network for Social Justice. They mobilized multiple unions and community organizations against the attacks on public sector workers, on welfare and social services, on healthcare and on education. On October 22nd, the people shut the city down. Transit workers refused to cross picket lines, so locals created picket lines and transit remained shut. Trucks allegedly blocked the 401, stopping vehicular traffic. The next day 250,000 people marched. Unfortunately, the momentum later faltered, as some pushed the energy towards elections, and others to ongoing grassroots organizing.

These days, the definition of a general strike has become a bit elastic. Just last year, in 2021, 20,000 New Brunswick CUPE members called it a general strike when they went out against a public sector wage freeze. They struck for 16 days, and in the end ratified a five year contract, with 2% increases each year, and a yearly 25-cent-an-hour wage bumps.

Right now, Ontario’s Provincial Government threatens the Charter of Rights and Freedoms by imposing a contract outside of bargaining, and by declaring a strike illegal. The Canadian Labour Congress, and the Ontario Labour Congress that include both private and public sector unions have announced a general strike in support of CUPE Education workers.

What this history tells us is that general strikes are not something that ended in 1919. Instead, recent history shows that they are possible, that they are often triggered by government attempts to slash the public sector, and that sometimes, they win.

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[1] General Strike. Encyclopedia Britannica. https://www.britannica.com/topic/general-strike

[2] https://www.nytimes.com/2022/03/28/world/asia/india-modi-general-strike.html

[3] https://www.ekathimerini.com/news/1197275/general-strike-on-wed%CE%BD%CE%B5%CF%83%CE%B4%CE%B1%CF%85-against-rising-prices/

[4] https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/highlights-in-canadian-labour-history-1.850282

[5] The Toronto General Strike of 1919 (labour150.ca)

[6] https://www.labourheritagecentre.ca/the-1919-prince-rupert-general-strike/

[7] https://canadianlabour.ca/the-largest-labour-protest-in-canadian-history/

[8] ‘He botched it’: how Vander Zalm’s labour laws led to one of B.C.’s largest general strikes | CBC News

[9] https://nbmediacoop.org/2021/05/14/june-1992-general-strike-in-new-brunswick/

[10] https://cupe.ca/new-brunswick-general-strike-tentative-agreement-reached

 

The threat of the truckers protest

The trucker’s convoys are a serious problem, not because of their demands, nor even their disruptive tactics, but because of their appeal to the many folks, frustrated about their jobs, their lives and the inaction of governments.

Their ostensible goal is to end vaccine mandates.  Which were happening anyway, despite the risk, because all levels of government are facing pressure to ‘open up the economy’. Now that the already planned openings are occurring, the truckers claim victory, and gain a sense of momentum. Vaccine mandates are a not the point. Sure, there are lots of anti-vaxxers mixing with the “We hate Trudeau” crew, while anti-Semites, far right racists and neo-Nazis percolate the mix. Their unity rests not so much on a particular demand, but on anger, propped up by a populist chant of Freedom! They see themselves as fighting elites who don’t care about the ‘little guy’. This puts the rest of us in an awkward position. Few of us wants to be arguing against freedom, or rooting for elites.

But this version of freedom is one the one to do what you want, without any responsibility. The freedom to be selfish, to be racist, to hurt others. This vision becomes clear when we remember that a bunch of these little guys (and yes, they are mostly guys), were part of the United We Roll convoy in 2019, when they were wearing yellow vests, arguing against immigration, the UN and carbon taxes. Rather than freedom, the vision seems to combine survival of the fittest with a rebellious, white supremacist “don’t tell me what to do,” Trumpist tantrum.

They are everywhere, loud, obnoxious and dominating our airwaves and our streets. They are BIG. Not because they have so many people, but because they have trucks. The trucks so complicate things, but that can go in many directions. There have been truck blockades of the border before. I’ve been compiling a dataset of all the border protests over the past fifty years and the tactic is not new. In 1990 truckers shut down the border repeatedly, fighting against the deregulation of their industry, and the conditions of their work. Most of the trucker protests of this era were about defending their economic interests, but there was also solidarity. In June of 1990, blockading BC truckers coordinated with striking nurses. In September 1991, independent truckers blocked the Ambassador Bridge, partly in solidarity with striking PSAC workers, and were joined by farmers and their families.  

So the problem isn’t the demands to remove mandates, and it’s not about truckers, or even their tactics (though the horns, geez…). The danger of these protests is that they effectively tap into so much frustration. People are right, the government doesn’t listen, most of the time. People are right, most of the time, we feel powerless. Because these protests are so loud and so obnoxious, they are appealing because they say,  “yeah, this sucks! You should be frustrated!”

They are gaining traction right now, because of this appeal, and also because they are saying what many of the richest, and most powerful believe. They are not getting hit hard by police or the government because of that convergence.  They are not rebels, but simply an angrier version of the status quo. This movement yells the word freedom, but not the freedom to be free of racism; to be free of hunger; to be free of CoVid. Their freedom doesn’t involve working together to protect the most vulnerable. They are very powerful false advertising, and that is their biggest threat.

Elections of Hope + Fear

I swing from precedent to projection, from past to future. Like many, I’m cynical about electoral politics. I know that, as my partner Mac often says, ‘whoever you vote for, the government always wins.’ But right now, we bracket this. Our US friends, who are committed to radical, grassroots movements pushing against and beyond the state are using their organizing skills to phone bank, and to get out the vote. Isabell hustles in North Carolina, Leah phone banks in Pennsylvania. They are strategic and organized. They push for the Democratic victory. One which they know is horribly flawed, but one that defends against the chaos and hate.  

The stakes of this moment are clear in Janelle Monae’s song, released for the election – “The Tables Bout to Turn”. Its lyrics and video speak of change; of looking back and dreaming forward; while blurring the line between electoral politics and social movements. She sings,   

“Hands dirty
Mind clean
A different vision
With a new dream
We kicking out the old regime
Liberation, elevation, education
I said “America, yousa lie”
But the whole world ’bout to testify
I said the whole world ’bout to testify
We gonna watch the table
Now we gonna watch the table.” (Monae 2020)

The accompanying video begins with a clip of Monae walking down a beach at sunset, as James Baldwin intones “I can’t be a pessimist because I am alive. To be a pessimist means that you have agreed that human life is an academic matter. So, I am forced to be an optimist. I am forced to believe that we can survive, whatever we must survive.” This scene is followed by footage of Black movements past and present; linking the student protesters sitting at lunch counters in the 1950s to the Black Lives Matter/Movement for Black Lives protests of today. La lucha continua. But unlike many celebrations of struggle, this continuity does not imply progress, but survival.

This is not the “Hope over Fear”, celebrated by Obama ten years ago. Hope comes from Fear now.  Fear of racist attacks. Fear of police violence. Fear of ecological slaughter. The fear is leading to ‘hands dirty’ action, and the hope that determines that despite all of it, ‘we must survive’. Monae’s video shows this knowledge rooted in Black movements, looking backward and looking forward at the same time.

As the cracks in the system become the whole, we hear this time travel/time compression narrative. Utopian Afro-futurism as seen in Syrus Marcus Ware’s 2019 piece, ‘Ancestors, Can You Read Us? (Dispatches From The Future). Carl Sagan reminds us, “to understand the present, you must understand the past.” But to transcend the present, we must imagine the future.  

This is the brink of something. When fear and hope push radicals in the US to replace purity with strategy and to use their organizing hustle to engage all the electoral levers as defense. Even so, they know that after the election is done (whenever that is), even in the best-case scenario, there will be no true democracy. The organizing to ensure that no one is left behind will continue, building on the work they are doing right now, connecting people, learning about their needs. The post-election future likely holds racist violence. Whatever happens, the electoral trench digging will help those under attack to survive, from the top and from the bottom.

As Monae chants,

“Turn, turn, turn (The tables got to)
That’s right
Turn, turn, turn (it’s got to)
You waited too long, you gotta
Turn, just turn, turn (the tables got to)
We see it all now
Turn, turn, turn
Said the tables got to turn.”

So we can all get beyond survival, and imagine flourishing.