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Martin Bak Jørgensen / Óscar García Agustín (eds.)

Politics of Dissent of current social movements in Brazil, Turkey, Nigeria, Spain and the US exemplify practices of dissent. The Editors Martin Bak Jørgensen is Associate Professor at the Department of Culture and Global Studies, Aalborg University. Óscar García Agustín is Associate Professor at the Department of Culture and Global Studies, Aalborg University.

Political and Social Change 1

Martin Bak Jørgensen / Óscar García Agustín (eds.)

Politics of Dissent

Politics of Dissent

There are alternatives to neoliberal market economies: basic income, the money of the common and degrowth. This study highlights the potential of dissent from the initial questioning of the dominant system to the creation of new political agendas. It discusses the multiple manifestations of dissent and their contributions to shaping political alternatives; it also takes a closer look at organizations and the challenge they face trying to establish forms of resistance. The struggles

1 M. Bak Jørgensen / Ó. García Agustín (eds.)

Political and Social Change 1

ISBN 978-3-631-66094-2

POSC 01_266094_Bak_GR_A5HC PLE edition new.indd 1

11.05.15 14:51

Politics of Dissent

POLITICAL AND SOCIAL CHANGE Edited by Martin Bak Jørgensen and Óscar García Agustín

VOLUME 1

Zu Qualitätssicherung und Peer Review der vorliegenden Publikation Die Qualität der in dieser Reihe erscheinenden Arbeiten wird vor der Publikation durch einen Herausgeber der Reihe sowie durch einen externen, von der Herausgeberschaft ernannten Gutachter im Blind-Verfahren geprüft. Dabei ist der Autor der Arbeit dem Gutachter während der Prüfung namentlich nicht bekannt.

Notes on the quality assurance and peer review of this publication Prior to publication, the quality of the work published in this series is reviewed by one of the editors of the series and blind reviewed by an external referee appointed by the editorship. The referee is not aware of the author's name when performing the review.

Martin Bak Jørgensen/Óscar García Agustín (eds.)

Politics of Dissent

Bibliographic Information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data is available in the internet at http://dnb.d-nb.de. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Politics of dissent / Martin Bak Jørgensen, Óscar García Agustín, (eds.). pages cm. -- (Political and social change, ISSN 2198-8595 ; volume 1) Includes bibliographical references. ISBN 978-3-631-66094-2 1. Dissenters. 2. Dissenters--Political activity. 3. Opposition (Political science) 4. Political participation. 5. Protest movements. I. Jørgensen, Martin Bak, 1973- II. García Agustín, Óscar. JC328.3.P655 2015 322.4--dc23 2015012878 Cover Image: © Sergio Ruiz Navarro ISSN 2198-8595 ISBN 978-3-631-66094-2 (Print) E-ISBN 978-3-653-05582-5 (E-Book) DOI 10.3726/978-3-653-05582-5 © Peter Lang GmbH Internationaler Verlag der Wissenschaften Frankfurt am Main 2015 All rights reserved. Peter Lang Edition is an Imprint of Peter Lang GmbH. Peter Lang – Frankfurt am Main ∙ Bern ∙ Bruxelles ∙ New York ∙ Oxford ∙ Warszawa ∙ Wien All parts of this publication are protected by copyright. Any utilisation outside the strict limits of the copyright law, without the permission of the publisher, is forbidden and liable to prosecution. This applies in particular to reproductions, translations, microfilming, and storage and processing in electronic retrieval systems. This publication has been peer reviewed. www.peterlang.com

This is why a vibrant democratic life requires real debate about possible alternatives. In other words while consensus is indeed necessary, it must be accompanied by dissent. Chantal Mouffe, The Radical Centre The charade of junk politics is there not to offer a choice but to divert the crowd while our corporate masters move relentlessly forward, unimpeded by either party, to turn all dissent into a crime. Chris Hedges, Criminalizing Dissent Raise your fucking voice Or be a face in the crowd Isn’t that what it’s all about? Rise Against, Voice of Dissent

Preface and Acknowledgements The first discussions concerning this book orginated in the emergent research group of International Studies at Aalborg University (Denmark) and were aimed at identifying a common framework which could be shared by the scholars affiliated with the group and which reflected our understanding of the political and social sciences, as well as our own roles as researchers. Dissent became that framework, which was later expanded into thinking about how to work with dissent as a central social and political issue. To elaborate on the topic and initiate a network with other interested scholars, we organised the international conference “Dissent! Histories and Meanings of Opposition from 1968 to the Present”. The conference was held at Aalborg University on January 16 to17, 2014. The conference was more successful than we had expected with more than 50 contributions dealing with dissent from different angles. One of these angles was the connection between dissent and social imaginaries, movements and change, and this volume consists of re-­elaborated conference contributions from within this field. We also asked key-­note speaker Andrea Fumagalli, and Giuseppe Cocco, whose work on the social protests in Brazil is remarkable, to contribute to the volume. We are very pleased with the final result and are confident that it will reinforce reflections on dissent within political and academic debate. We would like to thank our colleague Ben Dorfman organising the conference with us, and for making a considerable effort to turn the idea of working with dissent into reality. Thanks are extended to the fourth conference co-­organiser, Sandro Nickel. The Department of Culture and Global Studies at Aalborg University has been very supportive and has funded the entire project; special mention should be made of the Head of Department, Marianne Rostgaard. We would also like to thank Angela Louise Budd and the AAU Language and Communication Services for carrying the language revision of the manuscript. Our collaboration with Peter Lang has been very smooth and constructive, thanks to the excellent work done by Ute Winkelkötter; we are very grateful for her proposal to initiate a book series, ‘Political and Social Change’; this book is the first volume of the series. Last but not least, we would like to thank our dissenting families, Lise Rolandsen Agustín and Nienke Willemse Larsen, for sharing their everyday experiences and their questioning of the dominant common sense. Martin Bak Jørgensen & Óscar García Agustín Aalborg, November 2014

Table of Contents Martin Bak Jørgensen & Óscar García Agustín The Politics of Dissent................................................................................................11 Part I. Organisation Martin Bak Jørgensen & Óscar García Agustín The Postmodern Prince: The Political Articulation of Social Dissent..........................................................................................................29 Sandro Nickel Current Western Reactions to Mass Surveillance: Movement or Just Protests?........................................................................................51 Part II. Movements Giuseppe Cocco The Dance of the Fireflies in Brazil..........................................................................77 Yavuz Yıldırım Social Movements in Turkey: Changing Dynamics since 1968............................99 Justin AK Helepololei Manual Transmission: The Do-­It-­Yourself Theory of Occupy Wall Street and Spain’s 15M.................................................................................... 117 Lucky Igohosa Ugbudian Occupy Nigeria: Paradigm Shift in Mass Resistance........................................... 137 Part III. Alternatives Andrea Fumagalli Commonwealth, Commonfare and the Money of Common: The Challenge to Fight Life Subsumption............................................................ 157 Erik Christensen & Christian Ydesen Creating a Network of Dissent – The Heretical Idea of Basic Income.............. 181

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Peter Nielsen No Future -­Degrowth as Dissent in the Wealth Society.................................... 203 Martin Bak Jørgensen & Óscar García Agustín Nine Theses on Dissent........................................................................................... 221 Notes on Editors and Contributors........................................................................ 229

Martin Bak Jørgensen & Óscar García Agustín

The Politics of Dissent Abstract In Politics of Dissent the framework for analysing politics of dissent is outlined. The outlined framework problematizes the conventional understandings of dissent as something characterising individual historical figures. The chapter provides both a theoretical underpinning of dissent as well as an approach to investigate the current contestations taking place on a global level. Politics of dissent entails the questioning of consensus. It conceptualises dissent as a collective process taking place on everyday level. It conceptualises moments of dissent. Finally it investigates the emergent institutions of dissent. That is the creation of new institutions or the renewal of the existing ones.

Starting with no John Holloway (2005: 1) takes negativity as the starting point (NO as a scream of refusal) in his very stimulating book, Change the World without taking Power, which aims to open up a new way of constructing a Left project, through a new language and mentality. According to Holloway, “We start from negation, from dissonance. […] Our dissonance comes from our experience, but that experience varies”. The rejection of the world we feel to be wrong, and not only fragmented or isolated experiences, would be the first necessary step towards changing the world. We would also start our reflection on dissent and the necessity of politics of dissent by taking ‘no’ as the starting point. In this way, we would aim to show some of the social and political implications of dissent. In 1983, the Chilean group C.A.D.A. (Colectivo de Acciones De Arte) did a performance called ‘No +’ (see López, 2009). This was staged in response to the commemoration of the ten years of dictatorship. The intervention consisted in offering an open sentence (‘No +’) to be filled in by anonymous peasants who appropiated themselves of it by writing ‘No + death’, ‘No + pain’, ‘No + dictatorship’, etc, and avoided a police order. On walls, canvasses, and posters, the anonymous insurgency against the dictatorial regime spread throughout the country. Some years later, on the 5 October 1988, a plebiscite was held in Chile in order to decide if dictator Augusto Pinochet should decide if he was to continue eight more years in power or not. The citizens voted against this, and the situation is

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re-­created in the film ‘No’ by Pablo Larraín, based on the play El Plebiscito by Antonio Skármeta. Despite its unquestionable popular success, the film shows the increasing relevance of advertisement and marketing tecniques to persuade public opinion and, more importantly, the way in which the dictator, but not his political and economic model, was defeated. When comparing the two cases, some preliminary reflections on dissent can be made. Firstly, it is clear that the opposition, or dissent, against dictatorship was present for a long time, but it took a while before it was publicly articulated and became part of the institutional change. Dissent can be manifested in the public sphere or not, but as a ‘no’, as negation, it is constantly being (re)produced. It is necessary to see the moments of dissent as moments of visibilisation and to assess whether the moments are challenging the existing social order or are adapted to the institutional order. Secondly, the ‘No +’ performance entails a questioning of the political and social orders and the rejection of the oppressive system. The ‘No’ campaign, on the other hand, may be a firm protest against dictatiorship, but it does not reject the neoliberal model within which it is rooted. On the contrary, the model is assumed by the following governments during the transition to democracy. Thirdly, it is important to highlight agency, the actors who undertake political actions. The space opened by the ‘No +’ performance makes it possible for every ordinary citizen to become an active agent of dissent through completing the sentence and rendering the opposition to the system visible. The ‘No’ campaign reflects the appropriation of the means of mediatised politics to persuade people whose participation is basically reduced to the moment of voting. Finally, the role of collectivisation must be emphasised. The ‘No +’ campaign must not be understood as individual (meaning individuals who complete the sentence). Its anonymity, which is necessary to avoid a police order, does not contradict the collectivisation of dissent. All the participants find a way of connecting their experience to a collective struggle. The ‘No’ campaign also has a collective meaning, but due to the fact that participation is only possible through election, a division is created between the leaders of the campaign and the supporters. Returning to Holloway’s idea about negativity, we now approach the idea of dissent as being based on singular experiences but sharing a common feeling of disagreement and rejection of the existing political order. Therefore, our understanding of dissent refers to social and political questioning (not just to mere critique or a need for palliative reforms), to undoing consensus and rendering excluded actors and struggles visible. It cannot be reduced to individual dissent (within a political organisation or against an unjust system) since it is a collective process seeking alternative conceptions or ways of living. The politics of dissent

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assume the relevance of experiences opposed to the dominant order in order to render new actors, struggles and ways of organisation visible. To present the dimensions of dissent and its politics, we are focusing on the following aspects: the questioning of consensus, everyday dissent, the moments of dissent and the institutions of dissent. Thus, the politics of dissent will move beyond negation and towards constructive and creative processes in order to change the existing order.

The questioning of consensus In the past few decades, a constant de-­ideologisation of the political debate has taken place, as reflected in the electoral goal of gathering left and right wing parties around the centre, the common assumption of the logic of neoliberalism and the unquestioned need for open economies. Politics have developed so as to support processes of de-­regulation and privatisation of the public without any opposition being uttered by the social democratic parties which actually fostered the politics whilst they were in power. This ideological vacuum within the political system has been defined as post-­ politics. According to Chantal Mouffe, the post-­political world is characterised by its emphasis on consensus based on individual interests or in rational agreements. Thus, passions and collective identities are abandoned, and the possibility of antagonism is excluded. This situation leads to a lack of political interest in people and to increasing de-­politisation, as showed by abstention in political elections or difficulties of mobilisation. Mouffe (2005: 24-­25) explains that “politization cannot exist without the production of a conflictual representation of the world, with opposed camps with which people can identify, thereby allowing for passions to be mobilized politically within the spectrum of the democratic process.” Dissent becomes essential to democratic processes, and its exclusion or oppression weakens democracy since a plurality of voices would not be included in the decision making, would be left out of the public sphere, and could not contribute to the common good. However, in this regard, we differ from Mouffe’s position in terms of her conception of the relation between conflict (what we call dissent) and institutions. Mouffe is supportive of representative democracy and wants to find a solution in which the conflictual approach must transform the existing institutions profoundly. Indeed, she rejects more radical approaches to deserting from representative democracy and traditional insitutions (Mouffe, 2013). In our conception, institutional change must be assessed from a broader perspective focused on political and social change. The existence of dissent, and its

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potential to undo consensus and render new struggles and actors visible, can lead to different situations; from co-­existence with the dominant institutions to their reform or their questioning, followed by the need of creating new institutions. We situate ourselves closer to the opposition between consensus and dissensus as described by Jacques Rancière (2010). In his view, consensus ­deligitimates what is proper and what is not, and dissensus, on the other hand, unveils the improperty of this division. Dissent, or dissensus according to Ranciére, goes beyond institutional change or relations of power since it allows for the introduction of new subjects that question and disrupt the arbitrary distribution of political participation. Dissent consists in the expression of oppostional voices and the manifestation of disagreement against the dominant order, but it must be taken into consideration that not all people are included in the political discourses since they are excluded through the politics of consensus. Dissent also consists in giving visibility to disagreement and opening up spaces to do so. Thus, we are looking at ways of producing dissent, from hidden spaces (everyday dissent in disguised forms) to its irruption in public spaces and its potential for institutionalisation.

Everyday dissent As mentioned above, our conception of dissent is not attached to individuals who represent oppositional values against an unjust system or undemocratic political party behaviour. Our main interest lies in dissent as a collective process. This does not contradict the fact that individuals carry acts of dissent in their everyday lives; they do so by sharing a sense of disagreement against the dominant system. In other words, dissent is not necessarily visible and may not even be articulated, but it reflects social and political questioning from different places which are always socialised and singularised. There has been a tendency to consider dissent from a political party or, at least, as focused on articulated organisations. Everyday dissent and also the most spontaneous forms of dissent have consequently been overlooked. John Holloway (2010) points out an alternative vision when he underlines that rebels today are ordinary people such as a woman in the supermarket or walking by in the street, a man driving a car, or children after finishing their school lessons. This vision emphasises the contradiction within people, between their social identities that constrain them and the potential they all have to express such identities. Ordinary people share lines of continuity since they hold in common their opposition to capitalism and its effect of transforming people (subjects) into objects.

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The existence of everyday resistance is valuable to account for more invisible forms of dissent, which however can transform into the renunciation of domination in the public sphere. James C. Scott (1990) defines infra-­politics as tactical ways of resistance produced in hidden spaces where the relations of domination can be avoided. By the creation of these protected (but not necesarily physical) spaces, free of surveillance and control, forms of disguised dissent which apparently do not challenge or contradict the dominant system can take place. Being conscious of the disguised dissent produced by ordinary people does not entail the withdrawal of open dissent but, on the contrary, constitutes a germinal phase of the collectivisation of defiance. Furthermore, it questions both the idea of passive assumption of domination by ordinary people who instead are aware of the limits fixed by domination in terms of what can be done or said and the reduction of dissent at the individual level, since infra-­politics are based on the creation of shared collective codes and tactics. The disguised dissent is abandoned when the defiance becomes public. This moment is partly grounded in the accumulation of invisible forms of dissent which become visible. We refer to this moment as the moment of insurgency by which dissent becomes public and opens up the possibility of further articulation.

Moments of dissent When dissent abandons the disguised tactics or renounces to assume the rules of the exlclusionary public space based on consensus and the delimitation of the actors that have access to it, a new space of political possibilities is opened. We do not consider the moments of dissent as exceptional in history (in other words, it is not necessary for them to be a revolution; scale and scope can vary), neither do we see them as the continuity of the hidden resistances (although they can be grounded in them, they do not fully explain the disruption and the shift to public defiance). Essentially, the moments of dissent require an open questioning of the political and social orders, regardless of their being translated into a broader societal change or a narrower institutional change. What matters in our opinion is the possibility of rethinking the order from an alternative perspective, which was not considered before and by actors who were also not previously present in the public discussions. Thus, new ways of understanding politics and social change are confronted with the dominant ones. Jacques Rancière (2011) underlines that the political moment is a reaction against consensus. The political moment happens when the temporality of consensus is interrupted and an alternative description of the situation and a new relation between people emerge as significantly opposed to other(s). Ranciére

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specifies that political moments rely on the constitution of scenes of dissensus. Politics of dissent would maintain and expand the scenes of dissensus in order to avoid their absorption by the dominant logic. Following Ranciére, the creation of alternative worlds depends on the ability to win the battle of interpretions against other actors, such as politicians or media, who are trying to appropriate them. Compared with everyday disguised dissent and invisible dissent (not included in the political or media agendas), the moments of dissent constitute a public situation of the confluence of multiple singularities and movements and open up the possibility of articulation or better connection between the existing (disguised or invisible) struggles. The openness of the moments of dissent is essential in order to think of an alternative world (what is possible and what is not) and to initiate alternative political practices which transgress the partition of the political order (who can be legitimate speechers and who cannot). We consider that the issue of articulation or interconnection of dispersed and isolated struggles must be assumed to overcome the disguised or local level of dissent (but without denying its importance). However, the confluence is made possible, but the moments of dissent generate the scenes of dissent without ensuring their continuity. Therefore, another relevant topic must be taken into serious consideration: the institution of dissent or, in other words, the continuity and development of dissent beyond moments of questioning and proposals for alternative interpretations.

Institutions of dissent The shift from invisibility to visibility or from spontaneous moments to more articulated projects are matter of instutionalisation; the creation of new institutions or the renewal of the existing ones. In a discussion with John Holloway (2012), Michael Hardt comments that the concern for institution is originated in the need for organisations. Spontaneity, as in revolts or moments of dissent, is an initial starting point but it is not enough. Rebellion must be organised and gain continuity, which is achieved through the creation and renewal of institutions. The institutions of dissent must strengthen the scenes of dissensus and face the challenge of being developed in contact with established institutions, e.g. those supported or controlled by the state. However, renouncing the creation or renewal of institutions would reduce the impact of dissent and the possibility of social change in which the voices of excluded groups are taken into account. Alan Sears introduces a term which reflects our idea of the institution of dissent. He talks about the instrastructure of dissent “through which oppressed and

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exploited groups developed their capacities to act on the world” (Sears, 2007: 6). Through mobilisation and the creation of new repertories of thought and action, new ways of organising emerge to increase the effectiveness of social struggles. Furthermore, Sears adds that the infrastructure of dissent contributes to developing a collective memory, an internal analysis, alternative communication and guidelines to take action. In this conception of institution, the creation of organisations is not a way of abandoning the claims from more spontaneous moments of dissent or revolts but of empowering social struggles through a process of collectivisation. As noticed by Jeff Shantz (2010: 2) in his proposal of infrastructures of resistance, the absence of durable organisations or institutions leads to demoralisation or retreatment into subculturalism. Although these infrastructures are of course important for the articulation of hidden struggles and strengthening organisation, we think that it is equally important not to limit them to the terrain of the shadows of the dominant institutions or to the pre-­insurrectionary forms. The moments of dissent open up an unexpected political potential for the transformation of society, but it takes an institution to ensure continuity. Continuity does not mean fixing insitutions or adapting to the existing ones. To maintain the conflictual essence of dissent institutions is a process rather than a result. The challenge is how to preserve and reformulate dissent, so as to move beyond the negation of the dominant order in the direction of the collective constitution of alternatives. The politics of dissent is precisely that process, which must be constantly rethought on the basis of practical experiences.

Book structure This volume contains nine chapters offering different theoretical and empirical perspectives on the politics of dissent. The contributions have been structured into three sections: organisation, movements and alternatives. The sections reflect different dimensions, in which dissent is expressed, from a multiplicity of perspectives ranging from the more disguised forms to political organisations. Whilst the focus on organisation shows how the different ways of dissent are in transition in the search for a more stable continuity, the analysis of movements (and moments, we would add) is based on concrete experiences of dissent which openly challenge the political consensus and introduce new actors in the public arena. Finally, the interest in alternatives relies on the importance of how dissent is being concretised in different proposals, even though a complete and coherent programme that would set up the constitution of an alternative world is still far away.

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The first bloc addresses the challenges raised by the need for organisations to establish prolonged forms of resistance adapted to the current times. Two types of shifts are identified: from movement to political party; and from movement to mobilisation. These allow us to think of hybrids or new organisations of dissent. The chapter by Martin Bak Jørgensen and Óscar García Agustín The Postmodern Prince: The Political Articulation of Social Dissent investigates the organising processes and discursive articulations enabling or translating the ‘passage from the social to the political’. Basically, it shows how social movements in three settings have developed from bottom-­up social platforms to establishing a type of political party. Playing with Gramsci’s notion of the ‘modern prince’, i.e. the communist party consisting of a collective intellectual, Agustín and Jørgensen investigate how a new type of political party creates new articulations in the space between the social and political arenas, and attempts to re-­politise the political arena and challenge existing political regimes. In the chapter, they look at recently established parties in Slovenia, Spain and the UK. It is important to pay attention to this phase of social movement organisation as it refers back to the discussion on the potential of social movements for social and political transformation. Social movements appear, have a high level of energy but very often quietly disappear. In a post-­political society characterised by the apparent lack of alternatives and the backlash of ideologies, the emergence of social movements raises the question of the extent to which they can break the political consensus and articulate a long-­term discourse which can bring alternatives to the system. While the creation of new bonds between social movements and parties, has been part of the political agenda in Latin America during the last decade (Cocco & Negri, 2006), we have only seen few examples of this development in Europe, with the Green parties being the exceptions. Expanding the understanding of social movement, the authors offer an empirical analysis of the ways in which large social mobilisations organise and articulate political claims in a Europa still affected by the economic crisis as well a deeper political crisis. In his chapter Current Western Reactions to Mass Surveillance. Movement or Just Protests?, Sandro Nickel likewise investigates social mobilisation going beyond our traditional understandings of social movement. Since the summer of 2013, an extensive system of surveillance came to the attention of the general public. It was learned that the American NSA, the British GCHQ and other Western agencies are extensively surveying billions of Internet users worldwide, employing a so-­called ‘collect-­it-­all’ approach. The reaction was loud protests by the general public and a heterogeneity of different actors engaging in various forms of protest against the surveillance system. The initial puzzle addressed in this chapter is why the protests did not follow the traditional trajectory of social

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movement developments. Clearly, there was dissent and visible reactions to the surveillance, but the outcome in terms of organisational structures was different from that identified by the literature on social movement over the years. Nickel goes through the literature and puts forth a number of hypotheses which can explain why the protests did not develop into a mass-­scale social movement. Yet, the protests are there and dissent is apparent, so the analytical challenge is how to characterise and understand this particular type of social protest. New forms of protests elsewhere in Europe and beyond also point to a need for reflecting and theorising over the organisational processes of social mobilisation. The ongoing insurgence in Gezi Park Istanbul does not resemble the rigid definitions of a social movement either, but no one would dismiss that organised protest is taking place every day. The chapter therefore offers reflections on this specific question: If not a social movement, what then? Both chapters in this section of the book offer empirical insights into the organising forms of dissent in contemporary times. Both show that there is a need to challenge and expand our theoretical assumptions regarding social movements and to investigate how these alternatives, whether institutionalised or non-­institutionalised, develop into social and political practices. The politics of dissent take many forms and bring out new dynamics and relations between the social and the political. The second part of the book includes four chapters of contemporary movements. While a rich literature has been looking into European and American social movements and a myriad of studies exist which are focusing on the mobilisations arising with the Arab Spring, there are still many regions where protests, contestation and mobilisation have been given less attention (Cox & Fominaya, 2013; Khondker, 2011; Azzellini & Sitrin, 2014). This section offers analyses of social mobilisations and practices of dissent in Brazil, Turkey, Nigeria, Spain and the US. Without being explicitly comparative, the chapters provide us with the possibility to identify commonalities and particularities in the forms of protests taking place on a global scale. Giueseppe Cocco opens this section with the chapter The Dance of the FireFlies. The title refers to the works of the deceased Italian philosopher and film-­ maker Pier Paolo Pasolini, who described resistance using the metaphor of the fireflies: “There are moments of exception in which human beings become fireflies, luminescent beings, dancing, erratic, elusive and resistant as such” (in Didi-­Huberman, 2009: 19). Cocco reads the coming together of the multitude with the insurgence in Brazil 2013 as an example of human beings becoming fireflies. Cocco’s focus on the aesthetics of the Brazilian insurgence can perhaps be compared to Franco “Bifo” Berardi’s work in The Uprising – On Poetry and

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Finance (2012). Bifo calls for an insurgent aesthetics being capable of creating a new world. In his chapter, Cocco identifies how the young and the poor reaffirm the basic principles of politics, of democracy and of freedom through actions and language. Drawing parallels to the European experiences with fascism, he analyses the discursive regime of the government and argues like Chantal Mouffe that democracy must be taken (Mouffe, 2000). Cocco oulines the heterogeneity of the Brazilian multitude and argues that for the first time, the protests were successful in showing that the horizon of democratic deepening is implied in the achievement of the right to politics not possesses by the poor of the favelas, outskirts, and peripheries. Hence, struggle is constitutive for justice, and without struggles there cannot be justice. Transforming the rage and indignation into political action is therefore necessary in order to deepen democracy. According to Cocco, especially youths carry the conviction that this can be done regardless of the reactions from the Brazilian government. He writes that the youth carried a conviction that “hell is not something to fear in the future, but it is already present”. This paraphrases the mobilisation of irregular and precarious migrants in Germany. Here the slogan was ‘Eine Ziege, die schon tot ist, fürchtet kein Messer mehr’ [‘A goat that is already dead is no longer afraid of knives’]. As in Brazil, we are witnessing how the invisible becomes visible and struggle for their rights. Yavuz Yildirim’s chapter Pushing the Limits of the System in Turkey offers a historical perspective on the role of civil society and social movements in Turkey. Yildirim argues that British and American social movement literature is difficult to apply to the Turkish case, due to the particularity of the Turkish civil society and political culture. Historically, Turkish movements have not been independent of the state and rarely organised by grass-­root movements generally, but rather institutionalised and state-­related in their struggle for power. Yet, the recent uprisings in Gezi Park and elsewhere in Istanbul show a new development in the role and potential for social and political change in the Turkish context. The chapter analyses the evolution of the Turkish social movements since 1968, providing a broad overview with an emphasis on the connections of the alter-­ globalisation movements in the 1990s. The main argument offered by Yildirim is that Turkish movements have not been able to initiate changes in the public policies directly but have pushed the limits of the established systems towards a deepening of democracy. At the same time, he also claims that new social movements have focused much more on direct actions and demands, similar to the Spanish Indignados and the various manifestations of the Occupy movement; this has turned them into a symbol of new era of the Turkish social movements. Yildirim argues that the global forms of dissent are being transplanted into both

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the organisational forms and the claims-­making of the Turkish social movements today. In Manual Transmission. The Do-­It-­Yourself Theory of Occupy Wall Street and Spain’s 15M, Justin AK Helepololei touches on one of the issues sketched out above. What happens when protests die out? Whereas Agustín and Jørgensen’s chapter pointed to an organisational development of social movement transforming into a new type of party, Helepololei offers a different perspective. Studying a specific type of output, do it-­yourself-­manuals of the Occupy movement and the Spanish 15M, he investigates how political actions are sustained after the actual mass mobilisations started to decrease. As the excitement of 2011’s global wave of protest encampments subsided, participants in the one-­year anniversary demonstrations of both Occupy Wall Street and the 15M addressed earlier critiques of centralisation through the production of “do-­it-­yourself ” manuals, calling for modes of sustained resistance in the shape of economic disobedience. Helepololei argues that the rejection of “politics as normal” is transformed into the positive content of building a new normal, outlined through collectively-­ written manuals for living-­in-­resistance. While activists have produced manuals previously and for various purposes, the intention and the timing of these manuals are unique. Rather than supplements to mobilisation, manuals (and the collective-­yet-­dispersed actions they outline) became the mobilisation. The chapter argues that re-­orientation towards less visible forms of contestation requires re-­evaluation of the way in which we study these and other instances of protest mobilisation in terms of their scale, stability and success. As a window into how participants hope to go about creating the worlds they wish to live in, and how these approaches differ among instances of mobilisation, we will learn how these post-­plaza modes of discussion engage with the movements’ values and visions of social change. The final chapter of the second section of the book also looks at the Occupy case, but this time in a Nigerian context. Many of the recent studies of social movements in an African context have focused on the North African countries involved in the Arab Spring or at South Africa, which has witnessed a high level of social mobilisation historically as well as in recent times. Less attention has been given to the Sub-­Saharan countries. In the chapter titled Occupy Nigeria. Paradigm shift in Mass Resistance, Lucky Igohosa Ugbudian investigates the mass resistance emerging in early January 2012 under the heading Occupy Nigeria. Ugbudian argues that mass resistance has usually been characterised by the sporadic movement of protesters across earmarked routes within states, often resulting in confrontation with security operatives, culminating in violence. A general characteristic of all the Occupy manifestations as well as the Indignados

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movement in Spain has been anti-­violence. Ugbudian shows how this way of organising was transplanted into the Nigerian context. January 9 to 12, 2012, the mass resistance against government removal of subsidy on refined petroleum products, premium motor spirit (PMS), took a different form as regards method and organisation. The organisers, i.e. Nigerian trade unions and civil society groups, relied on mass and social media as well as on using the concept of occupy borrowed from Wall Street and London as a slogan to mobilise the people. Thus, Occupy Nigeria became a platform of non-­violent resistance for the reversal of the government policy through protesters occupying designated parks, squares, streets and roads in the federation. Prior to the mass resistance and mobilisation, there was a general belief in government circles that any mass resistance would not last more than a few days, as in previous cases. Ugbudian shows how organisation, mobilisation and sensitisation, as well as the nature of the mobilisation, constituted a paradigmatic shift from previous mass resistance. These four chapters share the conclusion that mass mobilisation carries a transformative potential which can lead to democratic transformation. This transformation can be subtle, and the system will not change overnight, but the authors, especially Cocco, Yildirim and Ugbudian, all argue that these instances of mobilisation are necessary in order to detect the flaws in the democratic systems (or point to the lack of these) in the cases analysed here. These four chapters also show that movements develop at particular moments. The third section of the book outlines alternatives to the neoliberal market economies. Taking the neoliberal restructuration of the economies and social systems as their starting point, the each of the three chapters constituting this section offers an alternative to the political, social and economic orders. In the first chapter of this section, Commonwealth, Commonfare and the Money of Common. The Challenge to Fight Life Subsumption, Andrea Fumagalli begins by outlining what he describes as cognitive bio-­capitalism. Here he argues that in cognitive bio-­capitalism, knowledge, when separated from every product in which it was, is or will be incorporated, can still in itself carry on a productive action. In other words, knowledge can assume the role of fixed capital, thus becoming some sort of “cognitive machine” which substitutes simple and complex living labour with stored labour. With the crisis of the Taylorist-­Fordist paradigm and the shift to cognitive bio-­capitalism, the Keynesian welfare state is progressively dismantled which affects the juridical definition of the common goods. Based on this diagnosis, he argues that it is increasingly necessary and urgent to introduce a new idea of welfare; an idea that can deal with the two main elements that characterise the current phase of the Western capitalist countries: precarity and debt condition as dispositives of social control and dominance;

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and the generation of wealth that arises from social cooperation and general intellect. The alternative outlined is the commonfare characterised by two aspects. Firstly, the remuneration of social cooperation implies the introduction of unconditional basic income, which also Christian Ydesen and Erik Christensen focus on in the following chapter. Basic income together with a minimum wage makes it possible to expand the range of choice in the labour market, i.e. to refuse a “bad” job” and then modify the same labour conditions. Secondly, this relates to the management of the commonwealth and the common goods. However, he argues that these two strategies are not sufficient to create an alternative. Fumagalli argues that it is necessary to build up an alternative macro-­financial circuit which can be autonomous from the dominant financial oligarchy. To do this requires two interrelated instruments, which he unfolds in the chapter: a financial institution of the commonwealth and a currency of the commonwealth -­or a currency of the common. The currency of the common differs from other crypto-­currencies, e.g. Bitcoins or Brixton £s, by not being cumulative or subject of speculation. Being a non-­property, it will enable the mitigatigation of the dependence of workers from the economic constraints of the sale of their labour-­force and therefore the wage relation. Here, dissent takes the shape of an alternative to the financial system as we know it. As mentioned, Christian Ydesen and Erik Christensen are looking into the idea of a basic income. In the chapter Creating a Network of Dissent: The Heretical Idea of Basic Income, they first discuss the development of the idea and second, present an argument as to why this instrument can be a tool to overcome some of the problems the current economic crisis and austerity politics have created. The idea of a basic income is characterised by its ability to transcend the topography of the established political landscape. For example, it seems plausible to say that it contains elements that may appeal to both socialists and liberals. In that sense, a basic income holds a potential rarely found among other political ideas. However, since the breakthrough of neoliberal hegemony, the idea of a basic income has increasingly been forced to live a life in the periphery of the dominating discourse, but during the last ten years, it has at the same time gained an ever stronger foothold in new global social movements. What this means is that the idea of a basic income is not waning or even dying. The global and expanding organisation Basic Income Earth Network (BIEN), which is working in favour of the implementation of a basic income throughout the world, has endeavoured to demonstrate how a basic income would solve some of the negative aspects of the current economic crisis. The idea is not to ‘repair’ the system but to present an alternative. In this chapter, Ydesen and Christensen are using the Danish discursive political landscape as an empirical case to show the potential of the basic

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income idea for cutting across the poles of the contemporary political topography and manifesting itself as a viable and forceful political idea. The last chapter carrying the title No Future - Degrowth as Dissent in the Wealth Society was written by Peter Nielsen. Like the authors of the two preceding chapters, Nielsen provides an analysis at a structural level. He unpacks his notion of degrowth by arguing that we should rethink the notion of dissent. He claims that the current development of advanced capitalist societies is characterised by a multidimensional and deep crisis, but even so, there seems to be very little dissent in a country such as Denmark, judging by traditional standards of critical theories. It seems that dissent has been replaced by consent, but Nielsen asks if this is really the case. Taking this question as a point of departure for the chapter, he analyses the theoretical and practical dissent in advanced capitalist societies in the last 100 years in order to establish what has shaped the contemporary configuration. He argues that the prevailing critical theories and practices have failed to address a major societal development in the past decades: The formation and decay of the Wealth Society. He argues that what we have is primarily a vital consensus revolving around neoclassical economics and neoliberal politics in a society dominated by consumerist values and media culture. Economic growth is the pivot. On the other hand, dissent is widespread in the shape of degrowth, which is primarily a structural and diffuse phenomenon resulting from a myriad of uncoordinated and largely unintended actions. Degrowth in this sense constitutes a counter culture. Whereas the two former sections identify particular political actors, the contributions in this section present systemic critiques. The actors here are the common, the political-­economic system and the counter culture. Each chapter carves out an alternative to the existing order. These can be seen as steps towards developing institutions of dissent.

Bibliography Azzellini, D. & Sitrin, M. (2014) They Can’t Represent Us!: Reinventing Democracy from Greece to Occupy. London: Verso. Berardi,  F. “Bifo” (2012) The Uprising. On Poetry and Finance. Los Angeles: Semiotext(e). Cocco,  G. & Antonio  N. (2006) GlobAL. Biopoder y luchas en América Latina. Buenos Aires: Paidós. Cox,  L. & Fominya,  C. (2013) Understanding European Movements. London: Routledge.

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Didi-­Huberman, G. (2009) Images malgré tout. Paris: Minuit. Holloway, J. (2005) Change the World Without Taking the Power. The Meaning of Revolution Today. London: Pluto Press. Holloway, J. (2010) Crack Capitalism. London: Pluto Press. Khondker, H. H. (2011) “Role of the New Media in the Arab Spring”, Globalizations, Vol. 8(5): 675-­679. López, M. (2009) “Empujar el arte hacia la vida (y viceversa),” Arte Nuevo. Available at http://arte-­nuevo.blogspot.dk/2009/07/empujar-­el-­arte-­hacia-­la-­vida-­y. html Mouffe, C. (2000) The Democratic Paradox. London: Verso. Mouffe, C. (2005) On the Political. London: Routledge. Mouffe, C. (2013) Agonistics. Thinking the World Politically. London: Verso. Rancière, J. (2010) Dissensus. On Politics and Aesthetics. London: Continuum. Rancière, J. (2011) Momentos políticos. Madrid: Clave Intelectual. Sears, A. (2007) “The end of 20th century socialism?”, New Socialist. Ideas for Radical Change 61: 6-­9. Shantz,  J. (2010) Constructive Anarchy. Building Infrastructures of Resistance. Farnham: Ashgate. Scott,  J. C. (1990) Domination and the Arts of Resistance: Hidden Transcripts. New Haven: Yale University Press.

Part I. Organization

Martin Bak Jørgensen & Óscar García Agustín

The Postmodern Prince: The Political Articulation of Social Dissent Abstract This chapter investigates the organising processes and discursive articulations enabling or translating the ‘passage from the social to the political’. It shows how social movements in three settings have developed from bottom-­up social platforms to establishing a type of political party. The authors investigate how a new type of political party creates new articulations in the space between the social and political arenas, and attempts to re-­politicize the political arena and challenge existing political regimes. In the chapter, they look at recently established parties in Slovenia, Spain and the UK.

Introduction On a global level, recent years have shown a proliferation of social protests. From anti-­capitalist struggles in Latin America, to peasant movements in Asia and urban justice struggles in Western European cities. Protests have come in waves. The global justice movement(s) of the late ‘90s constituted what is now often described as ‘movement of movements’ and in the past few years we have witnessed a re-­articulation of a similar social and political critique with the emergence of movements like Occupy Wall Street on a global level and the Indignados in Spain. Although hard to compare – especially when taking into account protests from different geographical regions – what seems to be a similar feature is a disengagement from and distrust in established politics. In a post-­political society, characterized by the apparent lack of alternatives and the backlash of ideologies, the emergence of social movements raises the question of the extent to which they can break the political consensus and articulate a long-­term discourse which can bring alternatives to the system. This necessary first step towards a social change soon gave rise to disenchantment due to the lack of concrete and immediate results. In his reflections on trade unions, which we extend to political parties, Jan Hoby (2013) claims that: “a lot of people have pointed out the risk of social revolt as a consequence of the financial crisis. Some of us hope for and realize the necessity of social revolt. The difference between both positions relies on political organization, direction, visions and strategies”. Following this reasoning, we

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can easily see that social revolts should have (strong) influence on the existing political parties by renewing their organizations, ideological visions and strategies. But instead, we see the majority of political parties still embracing the post-­ political scenario and barely daring to change market economy and the politics of austerity. Thus, it is not so surprising that new types of parties start to appear, celebrating the agenda set up by social revolt and trying to redefine the ways of organizing and doing politics. An early sign of the emergence of parties that challenge the neoliberal order is Syriza in Greece. The shift should be influenced by the experiences of participatory democracy (as occurred in Syntagma Square) and aim, as stressed by Costas Douzinas, to change the regime rather than the government, which “will depend on developing a novel institutional imagination” (Douzinas & Skærlund, 2014). This almost implies a reinvention of institutions to open them up to the participation of social movements and a change of the role of the political parties in order to make this openness and inclusiveness possible. The possibility of creating new bonds between social movements and parties has been part of the political agenda in Latin America during the last decade (Cocco & Negri, 2006) and now we see it happening in Europe as well. However, the re-­politization of post-­political societies is not the only option. There is a risk of moving into the opposite direction, as is the case of anti-­politics. Anti-­politics reflects the disappointment and disengagement of traditional politics and leads to protest without a political (or ideological) alternative. The detachment from politics has been articulated all over Europe from well-­known figures such as British comedian Russell Brand and Italian activist and comedian Beppe Grillo, who founded MoVimento Cinque Stelle (M5S) as a popular movement with an ambivalent and undefined political programme. Also the electoral successes of the UKIP and its use of populism and nationalism in Britain can be read as a reaction against the establishment. In this chapter we focus on new types of parties, which create new articulations in-­between the social and political arena, and attempt to re-­politize the political arena and challenge existing political regimes. Particularly, we analyze the cases of Slovenia, Spain and the UK. We seek to identify the organizing processes and discursive articulations enabling or translating the ‘passage from social to political’ (Adamovsky, 2006).

A way out of the post-­political scenarios? Representative/electoral democracy has failed in the sense that people no longer feel themselves represented or because liberal market democracies have not

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prevented new asymmetrical cleavage structures, inequalities and lines of exclusion and marginalization. As a consensus politics where politics is reduced to social administration, illustrated by Third Way politics and marketization of citizenship or as underlined by David Cameron in 2013 in his austerity defense for budget cuts: ‘There is no alternative’. Post-­politics hence can be defined as a political consensus which has legitimized precarisation, social exclusion and sustained de-­politicising practices and growing inequality (Agamben et al., 2011; Diken, 2009; Douzinas & Žižek, 2010; Žižek, 2012). One possible reaction to this development is anti-­politics. For a considerable group of people the preferred action is staying away from politics, abstention from voting and engaging in direct action. These dynamics of disenchantment and disengagement are not new. The political thinker Antonio Gramsci already in the 1920s made an observation and analysis which is useful today: At a certain point in their historical lives, social classes become detached from their traditional parties. In other words, the traditional parties in that particular organisational form, with the particular men who constitute, represent, and lead them, are no longer recognised by their class (or fraction of a class) as its expression (Gramsci, 1971: 210).

Subsequently, the driving forces behind recent popular mobilisations could be understood in this perspective and the dissent articulated from social movements and organisations. Multiple protests in recent years show their detachment from political parties by emphasizing that the movement participants did not feel represented by the parties. This leads to a possible way-­out of the post-­ political world as it starts from below with the re-­politisation of politics. The social challenge has been assumed by new political parties which have taken the need of redefining representativeness and including demands from below seriously. We take up this reinvigoration of the left and radical democracy and try to understand more recent developments where social protests have entered a phase of political articulation towards institutionalizing forms of protest. Different contemporary thinkers as Adamovsky (2006) Keucheyan (2013) and Harvey (2012) have argued that the newest social movements need institutions to diffuse and develop their ideas – and we could add – present a political alternative. According to Gramsci, any (counter)hegemony must develop through the modern prince, i.e. the party: “an organism; a complex element of society in which a collective will, which has already been recognized and has to some extent asserted itself in action, begins to take concrete form” (Gramsci, 1971: 129). For Gramsci the party must have a broad base including the organic intellectuals and constitute the organic collective intellectual. Now the new type of party organizing,

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as Harvey would say, must be developed along class-­structures and rights by expanding the concept of the proletariat. In this framework, we understand the establishment of the British Left Unity in late November 2013 and the Slovenian Iniciativa za demokratični socializem (IDS) and Spanish Podemos (both launched in March 2014) as the seeking for a way of articulating social dissent politically. The emergence of the three parties could provide examples of the ‘postmodern prince’ that reacts against the political consensus, maintained by the shifting governments of two major parties, and understands that social contestation must be continued by political means as far as the conception of political party changes. In the following, we present very briefly some of the material conditions for this development and the social protests which emerge as contestation but also as the beginning of an alternative.

Contexts of social outrage In this chapter we focus on these newly established parties (British Left Unity, Slovenian IDS and Spanish Podemos). The three parties have emerged in profoundly different contexts and have different driving forces but still share certain commonalities. Looking at the contextual differences, first we can identify different economic conditions in the three countries having affected the development of popular protests, indignation and the turn to institutionalized forms of agency like the development of a party. Spain in the spring of 2014 had an unemployment rate of 25.9 percent -­only surpassed by Greece – whereas Slovenia had a rate of 13.9 ­percent and the UK of 6.8 percent (Eurostat, 2014). The EU-­28 average was 10.5 percent. The youth unemployment rates (under 25s) were even higher with Spain having a rate of 53.9 percent, Slovenia 19.8 percent, UK 20.3 percent and an EU average on 23.5 percent (ibid.). The countries have faced austerity measures to different degrees as a response to the economic conditions. This has affected Spain the worst, but also Slovenia which has witnessed a retraction of the welfare state. UK has been less affected by the EU Troika but has experienced internal austerity policies, continued privatization and cutbacks on public services. The three countries have experienced different mobilisations and reactions against austerity and the establishment. In general, the response has been one against austerity, precarisation of work and rights, privatization and dismantlement (of public schools, the health system) and a deepening of inequalities. The ways the protests have been acted out differ, however. In the UK, the Occupy manifestations were quite strong and lasted longer than many, and over the last

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years there have been strong student protests. The uprising in London in August 2011 also showed much anger and indignation but also a less productive political strategy if the goal was to mobilize. In Slovenia popular protests were extremely strong in 2012, beginning in Maribor, the second largest city in the country, and spreading to elsewhere in the country. The protests demanded political changes and led to the mayor stepping down in Maribor in December 2012. The protesters were constituted by leftist, unionists, people from the Occupy movement, former members of the Global Justice movement, anti-­racist groups, immigrants and broad segments of the population. Spain (alongside Greece and Turkey) has witnessed the most extensive mobilizations in terms of time, place and scope. Beginning with the Indignados movement and Real Democracy Now movements, the protests centered around what took shape with the 15-­M movement. It is not one movement but rather a network of networks uniting and combining a large range of civil society initiatives. One of the more known initiatives is the Plataforma de Afectados por la Hipoteca (Affected by Mortgages – PAH) – an anti-­eviction movement and a platform for rights to the city. In all three countries, there have been discussions among social movements, academics, intellectuals and the political left on how to move on from the energy and vitality of the social movement to something else being able to channel the indignation and political protest into something longer-­lasting. The French sociologist Keucheyan quite provocatively wrote in a piece to the Guardian that if the protesters occupied the public it was because there was nothing else to occupy, meaning that the Occupy movements lacked a political strategy going beyond ‘reclaim the streets campaigns’ (2014). This is open for discussion, of course, but what is interesting is that he also implicitly predicts the emergence of a new type of political organization: The purpose of a political party of the working classes is not only to organise collective action, but also to organise collective thought and knowledge. And such serious thinking takes time. It requires permanent organisation, and not only “temporary autonomous zones”, to quote a widespread slogan in today’s movements. It also requires “mediating” institutions that permit theory and political practice to interact (ibid).

The new parties we consider in this chapter aim to give continuity and stability to the social protests in the streets. This implies not only adapting to the existing system but changing it in, at least, two senses: the organizational, since there must be another (more open) way of increasing participation and inclusiveness in political parties; and the discursive, which must articulate a different way of understanding democracy and take distance from the dominant neoliberal policies.

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Organizing social dissent into political form Podemos: combining assemblies with leadership The settlement of Podemos as a political party, which aimed particularly to participate in the European Parliament elections in 2014, consisted in two phases. The first one was the presentation of the embrionic new party by a relatively closed group, several of them from the Complutense University, including the leader, Pablo Iglesias. To continue with this political project and get an idea of the interest awaken, the group asked for 50,000 signatures (achieved already on the first day) to support the project. Besides, Podemos announced that the electoral list would be open to participation. Podemos was indeed presented as a ‘participatory method open to all the citizens’ to transform the social outrage into political change. It was a few weeks later that the second phase concretized the methodology with the proposal of the so-­called Círculos (Circles) to empower citizens and facilitate their active participation in the political process. From the beginning, it was clear that the organization entailed a paradox between the initial decisions taken by the leading group that proposes the political lines of action, the times and schedules and the horizontal form of the Circles (García Agustín, 2014). In other words, the translation of the social outrage into a political party is made by the combination of the participatory methodologies and the more concentrated leadership to foster an open model in which rather than controlling their members or participants (which is impossible with the structure of Circles), there is control of the discourse, which is quite influenced by the demands of social movements, and the general political agenda. This paradox relies on what Pablo Iglesias (quoted in Machuca, 2014) defines as the ‘unrepresentativeness of the 15M’. According to him, no party can represent the 15M and, in any case, it is the movement that represents the people. The leadership, especially in the media, is assumed mainly by Pablo Iglesias as an acceptance of the strong degree to which politics is mediatized, but there is also a political leadership which defines the framework in which Podemos will be developed. The objective is not to reproduce the structures of the traditional political parties but to allow for participation to contribute to modifying and redefining the general lines of action proposed by the leading group. Whilst in Spain the traditional political parties had already been censured by the 15M because of “the absence of mechanisms to establish and support intra-­ party democracy, financial transparency and independent auditing” (Khenkin, 2014), Podemos goes beyond these needs and creates through the Circles a hybrid organization that incorporates experiences and ways of organizing and doing, characteristic of social movements rather than political parties. The Circles

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entail a serious effort to introduce assembly democracy within the structure of a political party. A Podemos Circle is by definition: “a point of a net for the unity, change and democratic rupture” which “is not a support group to a party, and has total autonomy, where there is room for all the people with different sensibilities and origins” (Círculos Podemos, 2014). A Circle is a very open structure whose foundation depends on the interest of people to gather and debate. Although there can be organizers and tasks can be distributed, the meetings are open to all citizens. Despite of their disorganized and sometimes chaotic character, according to some participants, which also reflects their germinal moment as a new political experiment, the participants show their satisfaction with achieving a collective agreement at the end as well as the sense of being able to have a voice in the debate and contributing with arguments to the discussion. Furthermore, the emotional element must not be overlooked since the shouts of ‘Yes, we can’, as done so by social movements as the PAH, at the end of the assemblies strengthen the sense of collective belonging and of fostering a real social change. It can be said that the mechanisms of participation and transparency contribute to the democratization of the party but, at the same time, reinforce the predictable results promoted by the leading group, as the election of Pablo Iglesias as candidate or of his closest team to take the responsibility for organizing the party for the next local and regional elections. It has caused the first tensions from some participants of the Circles who advocate a more horizontal decision making structure and complain about the influence of the leadership. However, the inclusive nature of the Circles and the possibility of expressing directly their dissent undo a hypothetical organizational model based only upon a centralized leadership. This organization, combining leadership and decentralized Circles, contributes to preserving the character of Podemos as a popular movement and not as a populist one, which makes it possible for the engagement in politics to expand and embrace the electoral system and the work of the institutions. The main challenge will consist in keeping the balance between an open but reduced group to set the overall agenda and the capacity of Circles to elaborate local and thematic agendas and influence the path followed by Podemos.

Left Unity – a system of alliances or history repeating itself? Left Unity was officially established in London on 30 November 2013. It springs from an appeal of filmmaker and socialist/activist Ken Loach after making the movie Spirit of ‘45. More than 10,000 people signed up to Loach’s appeal which quickly developed into the Left Unity. The left has historically been strong in the

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UK but has over time lost its grip on its support base and is today historically weak. The party landscape has been characterized by fragmentation with various branches of leftist parties and coalitions being each other’s worst enemies instead of creating a common front. The Left Unity is the latest attempt to create a new collective response to neoliberal capitalism. There have been other attempts before this one though. When the Communist Party imploded in 1990, it was followed up by an attempt to launch the Socialist Labour Party in 1995, the Socialist Alliance (dominated by the Socialist Worker’s Party) in 2001, Respect (as a new type of heterogeneous alliance) in 2004 (Rowlands, 2013). Other attempts to create an alternative channel for dissent include Campaign for a New Workers Party and Trade Union and Socialist Coalition within the last years (Hudson, 2012). In one way, the coming together of Left Unity can be seen in continuation of these attempts. It is an attempt to unify the leftist fractions and put forth a viable alternative to the Labour Party. It is also something different or something new, however. Left Unity has not been based on the same type of militant intervention although Kate Hudson has been part of establishing Left Unity from the beginning. As mentioned, it started to take shape after Ken Loach’s letter, but Loach has not been the traditional charismatic leader either. He did participate at the founding convention but as part of a local branch, the Camden Left Unity. From the beginning, the organizing structure has been horizontal urging all interested parties, organizations and individuals to shape the Party. Different organizations have mobilized under the banner of Left Unity, such as Alliance for Workers Liberty, Anticapitalist Initiative, Communist Party of GB, Independent Socialist Network, Socialist Resistance and Workers Power. More importantly perhaps seen in the line of our theoretical argument here, it has drawn in the student’s movements, and activist groups from civil society (anti-­austerity groups) besides picking up the remains of political parties and trade unions. Left Unity does not come on the back of a social movement solely, however, which perhaps has made the transition to a political party less problematic, but at the same time has the problem of not representing and drawing in popular protests outside the political system. Put as a question, how can the party come to represent groups fed up with politics? The problem lies in the history of the left in the UK and the previous attempts to put unity of the left before popular unity (Caballe, 2014). The anti-­austerity movements are not united either in a UK context. In the UK, there are, if not competing, then not united groups struggling with the same issues, e.g. anti-­austerity groups like Coalition of Resistance, Unite the Resistance, the National Shop Stewards Movement and UK Uncut. The claims for political and social change are highly visible, but the question is still

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if Left Unity can create a collective body for the resistance. There seems to be a political space at least. As expressed by a social movement activist: Over the last few years, we’ve experienced the biggest youth movements the UK has seen for a long time. The student movement, Occupy, a resurgence in the feminist movement, the anti-­globalisation movement. There was no way of drawing that together, so it dissipated very quickly. The movements dissipate but the people stay angry (quoted from Davies, 2013).

In Gramscian terms, Left Unity is perhaps best understood as an organization based on a system of alliances. Several of these stem from part political fractions but also go beyond. It is alliances united in an ‘array of strategies and organisations’ (Seymour, 2013) revealing new commonalities. Left Unity has actively tried to expand the alliances by joining in and co-­organizing protests as for instance the ‘No More Austerity’ campaign in June 2014 together with the People’s Assembly. Likewise, it has worked together with groups such as Black Activists Rising Against the Cuts (BARAC) and others. Returning to Gramsci, his notion of the ‘modern prince’ describes the party and its purpose. An organic collective intellectual with the purpose not only of uniting, but also of constructing a ‘collective’ will. The logic in this captures the organization of the new political parties we investigate in this chapter. Knowledge and experiences from below are being channeled into the organizing processes of the parties. Left Unity is organized horizontally through local branches and groups (numbering more than a hundred) with decisions taken at the national conferences (so far a Founding Conference in London and a Policy Conference in Manchester). The groups are geographical ones rather than topical ones and in this sense resemble traditional party organization. During the Founding Conference, the delegates set out the future path by deciding between three different (four if we count the Communist Platform along these) political platforms each tackling questions and divisions between reformists vis-­a-­vis revolutionaries. Such distinctions and disputes can explain the failures of the previous attempts for broad mobilizations such as Respect. All platforms of ten or more members were invited to openly argue for shared political positions. The Left Party Platform (Left Unity, 2013) got the majority of votes and was decided. The Left Unity is now in a phase of letting the party develop further from below, strengthening its presence in social movements, trade unions and communities. One of the strategies is the development of caucuses as the recently established Youth Caucus collecting student activists (and the remains of the Occupy movement). Promoting black leaderships within Left Unity and working together with new grassroot campaigns and unions for migrant workers struggles e.g. 3cosas. The

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self-­understanding of the party is that it is being built bottom up by activists united against their opposition to austerity and claims for social and political change (Shaheen, 2013). The Party so far has stood up for local level elections in May 2014 but did not put up candidates for the EP elections where it supports the Party of the European Left.

IDS – the learning and participatory organization In its brief history, IDS has had three moments which reflect the fast evolution of the party and the challenges faced at different levels of a party which arises from the awareness that “the struggle on the street needed to be complemented with the struggle in official institutions” (Kirn, 2014). In these three phases, different groups (intellectuals-­scholars, activists, and political parties) have converged in the project of IDS. Besides combining critical theories and social praxis, the objective of IDS is defined as “institutionalizing and professionalizing radical leftist ideas” (Korsika, 2014) and to achieve this IDS has worked as a learning organization, adapting the needs of participatory organization rooted in direct democracy. With an explicit interest in choosing dates with a symbolic meaning, the establishment of the IDS on 1 May 2013 gathered members of the Workers and Punks’ University, participants of the 2012/13 wave of protests and activists from other spheres, such as the antiglobalisation movement, student struggles against privatization, or activists against the precarity of migrant and adjunct work. At this point, the idea of becoming a political party appeared as a way of giving continuity and stability to the project, although it remained clear from the beginning that it should take distance from the existing parties both at the discursive level (with their focus on ‘democratic socialism’) and at the organizational level (by finding ways of applying direct democracy). The second phase started at the 8th of March 2014 congress, in which the existence of a new political generation, in their 20s and 30s, among the 300 members was evident. The challenge of how to organize the new party, eminent in the first phase, was more clearly defined. The ideas of avoiding a traditional political party and strengthening participation were highlighted. There is no such figure as a president of the party, but there is a coordinator who is the legal representative in charge of connecting the work of other coordinators who work thematically (economy, agriculture, ecology, etc.). De facto, the power lies in the council, elected directly every year at the congress, which acts as the ruling organism between the congresses. The council has a mixed composition: 31 members are

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directly elected in the congress and 26 members are delegates from the local branches of the parties. The organizational structure has two goals (Kirn, 2014): to create a dispersed power, counteracting the risk of centralization, and give the possibility to every member of the party to participate in the process of party development. The second goal seeks to increase participation and give all the members the chance to participate in the internal political processes. This dilemma between concentration of power and a complete horizontal structure is presented by Anej Korsika (2014a) as the attempt to find an operational organization to prevent the party from becoming a debating club or to turn out as a centralist organization. However, the organizational model does not achieve a complete application of direct democracy, since it is based on delegation both in thematic and geographic areas. It is rather an organization which fosters mechanisms of participation and inclusion. Luka Mesec (2013), coordinator of IDS, considers that they function on the basis of direct democracy, understood as the consideration of all the members as equal and making decisions together in the general meetings, but he recognizes that direct democracy has its limits and cannot cling to this idea since it makes it difficult, for instance, for different types of organizations and persons to join them. IDS indeed has an open structure which aims to cooperate with social movements and other progressive forces, including trade unions. As a result of the open structure, a third organizational phase was initiated with the formation of the coalition ‘United Left’, together with ‘Party of Sustainable Development’ and ‘Workers Democratic Party’, for the European Parliament elections. Working within a coalition shows the need of opening the application of direct democracy, and it makes the role of leadership more evident in the sense that becoming part of the public debates implies a more visible presence of the leader(s). This is perceived as an advantage rather than as a problem. Despite media blockage, the interventions of Luka Mesec in the media are seen as the opportunity (Korsika, 2014b) of articulating a discourse against the political consensus and discussing the meaning of ‘socialism’. Leadership in the media acquires an instrumental dimension to communicate the IDS discourse and not as a threat to equal participation which relies on the organization. In this sense, the use of a recognizable leader is a way of competing in mediatized politics and of trying to modify public discourse. The open organizational structure allows IDS to maintain its principle of participation and to continue as a non-­hierarchical party while, at the same time, adapting to the new organizational, electoral and media challenges.

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Discourses against neoliberalism Podemos: popular discourse against the political caste The indignados, like other Occupy movements, framed the political conflict in terms of above / below (the 99 percent) instead of the more classical opposition right / left. Rooted in this idea and with the intention of appealing to a wider range of the population, Podemos changes likewise the ideological confrontation with the popular one, when the situation is not conceived as “left or right but as dictatorship or democracy” (Iglesias, quoted in Machuca, 2014). Therefore Podemos aims for articulating a popular discourse. Some precedents can be found in the Latin American experience and more contextualized in Greece with Syriza by a strong opposition against the Troika and the economic and political elites (including social democracy). In this sense, the discourse of Podemos is articulated through the polarization between people and elites. This articulation reflects the conception of populism as formulated by Ernesto Laclau (2005). The indignados showed their frustration and disaffection with the political system due to its incapability to fulfill their demands and for favouring the interests of economic and political elites. Laclau considers the polarization of elite and people as an effective way of creating an equivalence that allows for the constitution of a political (popular) subject capable of gathering a plurality of social demands. However populism usually is associated with centralized leadership which tries to control the movement and later the government through unifying the opinion of the majority (Urbinati, 2014). Thus the distinction between popular discourse and populist discourse must be emphasized, but, in opposition to Urbinati, we consider that taking the power must not imply the shift from popular to populist. Podemos avoids this risk through assemblary democracy and the participation of ordinary people in the Circles (Fernández Liria, 2014), and through claiming the need for changes in institutions and in the political and economic system accepting the existing legislation (until people change it). In the discourse, Podemos does not oppose to ‘elite’ as signifier. They choose ‘caste’ instead. Albeit associations with social stratification by heritage, the meaning attributed is, in reality, inspired by the Italian concept of ‘La Casta’ where a political framework was settled to preserve the interest of politicians to maintain a privileged position within the political and economic system. The introduction of the ‘caste’ has been useful and well-­understood by citizens for pinpointing the intertwined relations between political and economic actors and how the former forget their role of seeking the public good and instead increase their own interests. ‘People’ as signifier articulates outrage and hope in antagonistic relation with the caste. ‘People’ has a diffuse and loose meaning, but it generally refers to the

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­ rdinary people embedded in material conditions, characterized by precariouso ness, intensified by the economic crisis and the policies adopted by the governments. Pablo Iglesias formulates the need of the left of becoming ‘people’: “We think that the left has to go beyond itself, and to be able to win it is necessary to become people, to become something that identifies politically with the social majorities.” (quoted in BF, 2014) ‘People’ as signifier can unify the plurality of singularities and social struggles and be more inclusive. For this reason the goal, shared by people, is widely expressed as recovering democracy, which has been kidnapped by the caste. Likewise, it creates a clear separation between what is democratic and what is not, and the noble interests of the traditional parties to work for reinforcing democracy are questioned whilst their hidden interests as caste are revealed. The connection between the change of regime and democracy is articulated through the reference to the historic framework. According to Podemos, the regime of 78, which fixed the transition from dictatorship to democracy based on a political consensus, has expired. There is a need for a new regime and, consequently, the traditional political parties “are not a part of the solution but of the problem” (Iglesias, quoted in Europa Press, 2014). The invalidity of the system, which would have been decided by political elites and not by the people, implies the invalidity of their major players, particularly the political parties that have ruled the country since the beginning of the democracy (the social democrat PSOE and the conservative PP) and the monarchy as the institution elected by the former dictator, Francisco Franco, to preserve the regime and perceived later as a factor of stabilization in the country. To Sánchez Cedillo (2014), the popular discourse of Podemos is rooted in the popular discourse of 15M with a politics of the mask to avoid that their identities become easily fixed and predictable. The idea is not to speak as if Podemos was people but to create flexible popular identities by inclusion and participation. In our words, Podemos must continue its effort to become people and not to replace people, which can be seen as a shift from the popular to the populist discourse. The variety of factors attached to people (economic, historical, social, cultural) must be reflected by a participatory organization and an inclusive and changing discourse.

Left unity – ‘politics needs a new face’ The central claim of Left Unity is the need for an alternative. The alternative was again explicated by Ken Loach in March 2014 where he rearticulated his original appeal:

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The demands of the competitive market are remorseless: reduce the cost of labour; privatise everything; remove protection from working people, and maintain a pool of unemployed to discipline those lucky enough to have a job. Trade unions are to be obstructed while the wealthy are courted in the hope that they will find a pliant, flexible workforce that is easy to exploit. […] None of this is new. But where is our political representation? […] Can the Labour party be reclaimed? Or, rather, made anew into one that will represent the interests of the people? History suggests it cannot. […] The Labour party is part of the problem, not the solution. The Greens have many admirable policies, but we look in vain for a thoroughgoing analysis for fundamental change. We need a new voice, a new movement – a new party (Loach, 2014).

Loach here provides a brief description of the failure of the other political parties including the traditional left. In the excerpt, he does not advocate for anti-­ politics but for alternative politics. Loach reflects a opinion similar to Podemos’, no (existent) party can represent us. Left Unity later in March offered a Policy Program. The party has coined the slogan ‘Politics with a new face’ being a play on both new politicians (as in face literally) and ‘phase’ (as in temporal and developmental stage). It has been a pivotal task to translate the experiences from the social to the political – or in reality also translating political language to one of everyday experiences. Connecting political solutions and strategies to people’s concrete concerns. Where Left Unity differs from its predecessors is in the way that it has put issues of race, gender and non-­citizens at the front of anti-­capitalist and class struggles. It seeks to translate the social indignation into a political alternative representing an inclusive ‘we’, e.g. “The ruling class tries to divide us – saying they are saving services and resources for the “indigenous” people by excluding the “foreigners”. We need to say “we are all in this together””; “Immigration control divides and weakens the working class and is therefore in opposition to the interest of all workers”; and “[a]ny anti-­austerity movement with any chance of success must therefore be persuaded to foreground the issue of anti-­racism, to argue that working class people, of whatever background, are indeed all in it together” (Left Unity, 2014). Left Unity does not use the same type of populist interpellation (in Laclauan terms) of the people as Podemos does but seeks to expand the category of the working class as a master signifier. The point of departure is a political analysis of consequences of neoliber­ al­ism causing privatization of public goods and services, deregulating financial markets, the pervasive marketization of everyday life, budget cuts and a retrenchment of civic and work rights. The ‘culprit’ is not to the same degree the EU Troika as it is in Spain but rather the British government. Nevertheless, Europe has a central role in the Left Unity discourse and is articulated as a space

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for common struggles. Left Unity does not want to withdraw from the EU but supports The Party of the European Left and argues for a socialist reconstruction of the EU. It calls for internationalism and solidarity across borders and talks against the protectionism seen elsewhere on the left (e.g. being against the ‘British jobs for British workers’ idea). Left Unity (as already the name suggests) has not left the opposition of left and right in their political analysis but regards this as a central distinction of the political conflict. The opposition against the far right UKIP Party is also an example of this. They have sought to expand the conflict lines, however, by framing political conflict also in terms of above and below. Below and above are framed as class struggles (a conventional frame of the left we could say), but the opponents, i.e. the ruling class is not only defined by economic factors but read along intersecting inequalities and exploitations in terms of gender, race, health and more. In this way, it becomes an example of Harvey’s notion of expanding the proletariat and comes closer to Hardt and Negris ‘multitude’ despite the more traditional class struggle articulation. The political discourse is an attempt to constitute new political subjectivities from the everyday life experiences, protests, mobilizations and various forms of political activism. In terms of political strategy and discourse, it implies expanding the conflict lines to create a potent collective subject. One example of this strategy is the Left Unity involvement in the My Belly is Mine campaigns, which basically aim at keeping abortion safe and legal in Spain. Alliances are established within the UK with UK Feminist Action, The Women’s Assembly (and other groups) and transnationally/internationally with La Asamblea de Mujeres in Spain. The attempt is to expand the common ‘we’. Articulating a common position, “[a] multitude that not only overcomes the old subjects of people and nation, but also simultaneously rearticulates a political plurality made of all the categories of workers” (Herrera-­Zgaib, 2009: 146). It is with Alain Badiou’s words (also) a matter of bringing those who were ‘inexistent’ ‘into a politically maximal existence’ (here from Dean, 2012; original Badiou, 2010). Doing so demands in Left Unity’s understanding a new type of political party as the Labour Party has failed.

IDS – Defining a democratic socialism The baseline of IDS’ political discourse is even more explicitly than Left Unity’s a discourse drawing on socialism. Anej Korsika stated this clearly in a recent interview: “Our orientation is socialist, even communist and is fed from the history of workers’ struggles; we acknowledge this loudly and clearly” (Korsika,

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2014a). As this statement comes from a political activist in a former ‘socialist’ country this also puts forth a puzzle. How can a political ideology which lost legitimacy in the 20th century be a collective force today? And secondly, what is then particularly new in such a party? Like Left Unity, and unlike Podemos, IDS has not abandoned the left-­right distinction but has sought to redefine it. The political discourse of IDS identifies the crisis embedded in the capitalist system and the neoliberal policy hegemony of the global powers and the EU Troika. IDS regards the crisis as a democratic one, however, and not in the functioning of capitalism. The means to challenging this hegemony lies in democratizing institutions, policies and economy, and direct democracy is articulated as the main strategy (Initiative for Democratic Socialism, 2013). Doing up with exploitation like in Left Unity’s diagnosis expands the category of people struggling against the system. This means supporting and integrating emancipatory struggles of workers, immigrants, women and peasants. Class differences are linked to inequalities and subordination which creates a position defining a collective subject. IDS does not have a master signifier collecting resistance from below. If there is a signifier it is a (revitalized) ‘socialism’. Nevertheless, IDS is at the same time established from below and the power and potential of social movements is being recognized as vital for the political strategy: There are broadly two ways in which emancipatory movements striving for a systemic change are organised. Some are organised as parties attempting to gain political power and to act as anti-­systemic regimes. Others are organised as movements fighting for systemic change with no desire to seize political power. We believe that the struggle for democratic socialism must necessarily make use of both types of strategies: those that work from below and are abolishing the existing social relations, and those that are changing the policies from above inside the institutionalised sphere of the political system (Initiative for Democratic Socialism, 2013).

This is a rearticulation of a socialist vision collecting the mobilizations from below. This lesson is learned from the uprisings taking place in Slovenia during recent years, from the more undefined claims of the Slovenian Occupy movement and the articulation of a ‘politics of becoming’ (Razsa & Kurnik, 2012) to the extremely concrete chants of workers in Gorenje chanting to its CEO gotof si! (‘he is done!’) repeating the claims of the protesters in Maribor to the mayor Franc Kangler (United Left Alliance, 2013). The uprisings – again using Badiou’s words – brought people into political existence and constituted new political subjectivities. It is this empowerment and these political subjectivities IDS today seeks to articulate in a new discourse creating a distinction between legitimate direct democracy and the political caste (like in the case of Podemos) referring to

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the upholders of illegitimate political and economic actors including the established political system. The discourse moving from ‘he is done’ to ‘It is enough! It is over for them!’ (Gotov je! Gotovi so!). Hence, the political system must be changed in such a way that people are going to regain effective control over politicians and policies and society should be reorganized in such a way that people can reclaim control over the common goods, what Korsika defines as ‘social property’ (Korsika, 2014a). The discourse is internationalist, carving out alliances in other European countries and with ‘workers’ globally in the struggles against austerity and precarity. The European Parliament is platform for uniting with leftists/socialist forces and spurring social and political change.

The post-­modern prince? All the cases we have presented share the trait that they emerged in situations of strong social mobilization which can be summarized as: 1) the rejection of neoliberal policies, particularly the politics of austerity; 2) the critique of the political consensus, based on the alternation of two major parties without strong ideological differences; and 3) the questioning of the representativeness of political parties (especially in Spain and Slovenia) and of the fact that their actions are searching for the common good. The challenge for social movements after the protests has been to develop these protests into new forms of autonomy and/or ways of getting influence through existing institutions. Furthermore, it has also been understood that continuity and stability are best achieved by transforming social demands into political ones, which would imply participating in the political system. In this sense, we see the new parties as post-­modern princes who want to unify the social dissent through the translation of struggles in the street into proposals in parliament (though not exclusively). The three parties have been founded because they consider that the need of a political party, capable of assuming the social demands, meaning the new prince, does not correspond with the existing parties. Podemos does not think that Izquierda Unida (with a strong role of the Communist Party) can lead a political change and overcome the declining social democracy; Left Unity diagnoses the need of creating an alliance between parties of a dispersed left beyond the Labour Party to articulate a common project; and IDS identifies a space on the left that no party is occupying and that must be fostered from a socialist perspective. There is an explicit intention of not becoming a traditional party and this is reflected in their organizational forms and in the articulation of new discourses that emerge partly from discourses already existing in civil society.

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It is not a coincidence that the new parties are mostly composed by young people who take distance from the consensus system and want to renew politics and neither that they are a combination of activists and scholars who have a theoretical understanding of the political and economic situation and also consider alternatives to neoliberalism. This novelty is also present in their sources of funding, which ensure more independence but constraint their actions. The finances of IDS and Left Unity are covered mostly by their members’ fees, whilst Podemos has deployed more creative ways of funding through campaigns of crowdfunding. All three emerging organizations aim to be more open and not to create a gap between political parties and social movements. Doing so requires them to tackle two popular (mis)beliefs: 1) That organizational structures and rule conspire against horizontality and openness; and 2) that division of labour and delegation of functions bring out new hierarchies (as formulated by Adamovsky, 2006). To achieve this goal, the three parties want to collaborate and strengthen their actions together with social movements. Besides, they want to experiment with more horizontal organizational forms that come from the most recent grassroot movements. Left Unity has constituted political platforms to tackle internal divisions and overcome the structures based on alliances of small parties (and their disagreements) and promote the effective inclusion of minorities in the leadership; IDS aims to disperse power and give all their members the opportunity to be active in the functioning of the party through a participatory system, grounded in direct democracy, and a flexible form of delegation; and finally Podemos combines a visible leadership that defines the major lines of action with the inclusion of the dynamics of assemblies through an open form, the Circles, in which all people can participate without necessarily being members of the party. With different scope, the importance of inclusion and participation (and partly, direct democracy) in the political parties has become a central issue to the foundation of a new prince who acts closer to social activists. To challenge the existing political consensus, it is essential to articulate new discourses which can develop the spaces opened by social protests with the intention of undoing the dominant hegemony. The three parties choose different signifiers to constitute their discourses. IDS clearly takes position for a radical left strategy by choosing ‘socialist’ as the central concept of their discourse. They try to ‘mitigate’ the negative connotations of socialism in the East of Europe but with the emphasis on ‘democratic socialism’ to point out the need for a new socialism. Left Unity also assumes their will of creating a left project, though not so defined because it aims to gather different parties and sensibilities for the left, and it is very open to international politics and the importance of the inclusion of

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minorities and other identities not based solely on the concept of class. Podemos differs from the former parties in its constitution of a popular discourse in which the categories of left and right are blurred (and replaced by above and below), but the material consequences of the crisis in the impoverishment of the population are highlighted. In opposition to IDS and Left Unity, focused on redefining a left project from a clear left position, Podemos believes that a popular discourse is the only one capable of constituting a vaster majority. Finally, we want to underline that, albeit Podemos is the only one with representatives, the three parties support the Party of the European Left. They see neoliberalism, and the role played by the Troika, as a threat to political and economic sovereignty, but they do not aspire to a nostalgic comeback for the nation-­ state (and consequently take distance from nationalism). They are rather conscious of the insufficiency of one country to change by its own the economic system and of the need for establishing left alliances to achieve that change. The work within the European Left, including these emergent new parties, could facilitate transnational cooperation and the cooperation of a transnational discourse. We are still a long way from that, but it becomes an imperative need if we want to see how the postmodern prince is capable of facing global capitalism.

Bibliography Adamovsky, E. (2006) “Autonomous Politics and its Problems: Thinking the Passage from Social to Political”. Choike.org. Available at: Agamben, G., Badiou, A., Bensaïd, D., Brown, W., Nancy, J-­L., Rancìere, J., Ross, K. & Žižek, S. (2011) Democracy in What State? New York: Columbia University Press. Badiou, A. (2010) “The Communist Hypothesis”. London: Verso. BF, Manel (2014) “Entrevista a Pablo Iglesias: ‘Para poder ganar hace falta convertirse en pueblo.” La Hiedra, 9th of May. Available at: Caballe, Adria Porta (2014) “What can the British left learn from Podemos?”. Rs21, 6th of June. Available at: Círculos Podemos (2014) Público, 24th of Jannuary. Available at:

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Cocco, G. & Negri, A. (2006) GlobAL. Biopoder y luchas en América Latina. Buenos Aires: Paidós. Davies,  H. (2013) “Left Unity: ‘It’s do or die for the left”. Epigram, 25th of November. Available at: Dean, J. (2012) The Communist Horizon. London: Verso. Diken, B. (2009) “Radical Critique as the Paradox of Post-­Political Society”. Third Text, Vol. 23(5): 579-­586. Douzinas, C. & Žižek, S. (eds.) (2010) The Idea of Communism. London: Verso. Douzinas,  C. & Bjarke  S. R. “Greece is the future of Europe.” Open Democracy, 13th of March. Available at: Europa Press (2014) “Podemos se presenta a las europeas como alternativa a los partidos del ‘régimen caduco del 78’.” Europa Press, 4th of March. Available at:

Eurostat (2014) Newsrelease March 2014. Available at: Fernández Liria, C. (2014) “Podemos qué. Algunas reflexiones sobre un supuesto populismo.” Rebelión, 28th of June. Available at: García Agustín,  Ó. (2014) “Podemos: Venstrefløjspolitik for the 99 procent.” Modkraft, 2nd of June. Available at: Gramsci, A. (1971) Selections from the Prison Notebooks. New York: International Publishers. Harvey, D. (2012) Rebel Cities. From the right to the city to urban revolution. London: Verso. Herrera-­Zgaib, M. Á. (2009) The Public Intellectual in Critical Maxism: From the Organic Intellectual to the General Intellectual”. Pap. Polit. Bogotá Vol. 14(1): 143-­163. Hoby,  J. (2013) “Fagbevægelsen i lort til halsen.” Modkraft, 31st of March. Available at:

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Hudson, K. (2012) The New European Left: A Socialism for the Twenty-­First Century? Palgrave McMillan. Keucheyan,  R. (2014) “How to break the stranglehold of ­academics on critical thinking”. The Guardian, 2nd of January. A ­ vailable at: Keucheyan, R. (2013) The Left Hemisphere: Mapping Critical Theory Today. London: Verso. Khenkin, S. (2014) “Social Movements vs. Political Parties: the Case of Spain.” Russian International Affairs Council, 5th of March. Available at: Kirn, G. (2014) “The emergence of the New Left Party in Slovenia: Initiative for Democratic Socialism.” Socialist Project, 4th of April. Available at: Korsika, A. (2013) “Initiative for Democratic Socialism: background, launch and perspectives.” Inštitut za delavske študije, 15th of July. Available at: Korsika,  A. (2014a) “The formation of a European Movement is Key.” Left­ East, 14th of March. Available at: Korsika, A. (2014b) “Letter from Slovenia.” Left Unity, 1st of May. Available at:

Laclau, E. (2005) On Populist Reason. London: Verso. Left Unity (2014) Policy from Left Unity National Conference Manchester – 29 March 2014. Left Unity (2013) Left Party Platform: Towards a new left party. Available at:

Loach,  K. (2014) “Labour is part of the problem, not the solution”. The Guardian, 27th of March. Available at: Machuca,  P. (2014) “Entrevista a Pablo Iglesias: ‘No es izquierda o derecha, es dictadura o democracia’.” El Huffington Post, 16th of February. Available at:

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Mesec, L. (2013) “The Initiative for Democratic Socialism.” YouTube. Available at: Razsa, M. & Kurnik, A. (2012) “The Occupy Movement in Žižek’s hometown: Direct democracy and politics of belonging”. American Ethnologist, Vol. 39(2): 238-­258. Rowlands,  P. (2013) “Left Unity? No thanks, at least not yet”. Left Futures 10th of August. Available at: Sánchez C. (2014) “El posse de Podemos. Notas tras elecciones y abdicación.” Euronomade, 2nd of June. Available at: Seymour, R. (2013) “How to protest in the age of austerity”. The Guardian, 22nd of October. Available at: Shaheen, S. (2013) “If Left Unity doesn’t provide an alternative, who will?”. The Guardian, 12th of September. Available at: United Left Alliance (2013) Slovenia Uprising Update. Available at: Urbinati, N. (2014) Democracy Disfigured. Opinion, Truth, and the People. Harvard: Harvard University Press. Žižek, Slavoj (2012) The Year of Dreaming Dangerously. London: Verso.

Sandro Nickel

Current Western Reactions to Mass Surveillance: Movement or Just Protests? Abstract The chapter investigates social mobilisation going beyond our traditional understandings of social movement in a German context. Since the summer of 2013, an extensive system of surveillance came to the attention of the general public. It was learned that the American NSA, the British GCHQ and other Western agencies are extensively surveying billions of Internet users worldwide, employing a so-­called ‘collect-­it-­all’ approach. The reaction was loud protests by the general public and a heterogeneity of different actors engaging in various forms of protest against the surveillance system. The initial puzzle addressed in this chapter is why the protests did not follow the traditional trajectory of social movement developments.

Introduction Since the summer of 2013 an extensive system of surveillance has come to the attention of the general public. It was discovered that the American NSA, the British GCHQ and other Western agencies are surveying billions of Internet users worldwide, employing a so-­called ‘collect-­it-­all’ approach. The already infamous surveillance programs PRISM and TEMPORA are part of a gigantic surveillance machine. The agencies mentioned secretly copy user data via internet corporations, including email and chat contents, as well as metadata. Another method is the wiretapping of subsea fiber optic cables and internet junction points, enabling direct access to data streams. Basically, all data transmitted over the Internet can be used by intelligence services (Greenwald, 2014; Zuboff, 2013; Reissmann, 2014; Reissmann, 2013a). Most big internet corporations have willingly given away the key to their own data. Social media can even be surveyed in real time, in order to project trends and political developments. Surveillance of state leaders’ communication facilities has been revealed as well, e.g. those of Germany’s Chancellor and Brazil’s President. Several agencies are engaged in the exchange of information, providing for a truly global system of surveillance (Poitras et al., 2013:78). These practices collide with a number of constitutional rights, human rights and the general enjoyment of liberty and freedom (Skinner, 2013). Central human rights such as the right to privacy, freedom of expression, freedom of

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association and the right of non-­discrimination as defined in the UDHR are violated. Further, this ‘Western’ surveillance can be used by authoritarian leaders worldwide in order to justify their own surveillance measures. Western surveillance was revealed through the actions of whistleblowers and journalists who might be classified as ‘dissidents’. The public learned not only about surveillance, but also about the fate of those dissidents. Edward Snowden and Glenn Greenwald are two of them. Via the media, the general public could follow Snowden’s escape, leading him from Hong-­Kong to Russia. It was also possible to read about the personal repercussions experienced by Glenn Greenwald, the journalist working with Snowden. However, despite the described revelations and although many voices are calling for a reform of intelligence organizations and their practices, no government has taken real action. This is not to say that the world has not seen any mobilization against surveillance at all. People and organizations have been protesting against all-­ encompassing surveillance. For example, Germany and the US have seen demonstrations against surveillance. Protestors are trying to reach out to like-­ minded people via social media. Other forms of mobilization have been chosen as well. Several online petitions called for the abolishment of surveillance measures. Another form of mobilizing resistance is the efforts made by hackers and activists to protect internet users against surveillance by spreading cryptographic tools among the population (e.g. via introducing so-­called CryptoParties). However, these mobilizations and protests do not qualify for being characterized as mass scale social movements. They are too fragmented, too small and too sporadic to be called ‘a movement’, and rather fall under the umbrella term of (fragmented) protest. This signifies that we are living in a world of dissent, but not in a world that always produces effective social movements. This chapter claims that a mass movement against surveillance is necessary in order to put a halt to current measures of surveillance. Only with a mass movement will incentives to take action be created for power holders. Only a movement reflecting substantial parts of society will create such policy incentives. This chapter aims to deliver possible explanations for the lack of a mass scale movement against the surveillance measures of state agencies. The chapter will try to clarify why the issue does not, apparently, motivate mass resistance. Possible (partly interrelated) hypotheses explaining the non-­formation of a social movement confronting surveillance are: 1. the issue is not immediately perceivable for the big majority of individuals, thus too abstract.

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2. the issue is not triggering enough intense anger. 3. there are no concrete individual victims with whom people can identify. 4. potential members of a movement might refrain from participating due to their awareness of the dangers posed by surveillance and of not being anonymous any more. 5. potential members of a movement are of the opinion that the best way to confront surveillance is via the Internet and not via public resistance. 6. surveillance and shrinking privacy are already embedded in the consciousness of citizens; Snowden’s revelations did not trigger any surprise. 7. potential members of a movement do not know whom to address, a target for resistance is missing. 8. potential members of a movement feel that there is not much hope for change or for the success of a movement. 9. a collective identity among potential and actual protesters is missing. These hypotheses will be discussed and ‘tested’. In advance of this, however, a definition of what is understood as a mass-­scale social movement will be elaborated, on the basis of relevant literature in the field. Subsequently, more detailed argumentation as to the reasons why a social movement against surveillance is currently not considered to be detected will be given. The latter study will be conducted by comparing current attempts of protest with past movements in the field, in other words, past issues of perceived rights violations by state agencies. Also, other current movements addressing other issues will be compared with the protests against surveillance. It will then be investigated why the issue of mass surveillance is not triggering a mass movement. This investigation will be conducted by taking into account claims from the literature regarding conditions for the emergence of social movements as well as recent empirical data. The latter will be limited to the case of Germany, thus only delivering an answer for this particular case. It must be assumed, however, that many of the answers delivered for the German case will bear relevance to various other Western countries. This chapter does not limit itself to either qualitative or quantitative data, but uses both and is therefore a mixed-­methods study. The chapter thus integrates research styles as different as the results of survey research, nonreactive research (e.g. assessing newschapter reports) and fieldwork reports. For example, to prove the lack of anger among the German population, I use polls but also field reports. Thus, this chapter follows multimethod research approaches as proposed by e.g. John Brewer and Albert Hunter (2006). This approach allows for compensating the ‘particular faults and limitations’ of the different research styles (Brewer & Hunter, 2006:6). As can be expected, this chapter runs into the problem of having as a research object a non-­phenomenon, something that does not take place, resulting in the

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problem of collecting sufficient data in order to evaluate the hypotheses. It will be tough to prove or disprove certain hypotheses for good; I will rather add to the support of some and show that others can be assumed to not having played a role. However, the chapter extends the volume of social movement literature on non-­existing social movements. Understandably, this category sees much fewer publications than actually existing movements. This chapter does not claim to offer a final answer to the research question in focus, considering the complications of trying to explain why something is not happening.

What is a social movement? This section will provide a definition of the concept ‘social movement’. As with many concepts in social science, ‘social movement’ has been defined diversely, and the same terms have different meanings, and different terms the same meaning. Many definitions in the literature are rather vague or broad, and do not allow for a sufficient distinction between protest and social movement. In this chapter, ‘protest’ is understood as an umbrella term, whereas ‘social movement’ is seen as a more specific form of mobilization and protest, and as a label for which the fulfillment of certain characteristics is demanded. One example of a broad definition is Mayer N. Zald and Roberta Ash’s definition from 1966, claiming that a social movement is a “purposive and collective attempt of a ­number of people to change individuals or societal institutions and structures”. Craig  ­Jenkins and William Form’s more contemporary and very broad definition states that ‘social movements have traditionally been defined as organized efforts to bring about social change’ (2005). Hans Toch’s definition holds that social ­movements are: “efforts by a large number of people to solve collectively a problem that they feel they have in common” (1965). Combining elements of these definitions contributes a bit more to a sufficient definition of the concept of social movement: the latter must consist of collective actions by large groups, the aim is social, societal or institutional change, efforts for change have to be organized, and such efforts are created when people feel that there is a common problem. Other definitions add other important points. Sidney Tarrow claims, for instance, that social movements are based on underlying social networks and posit “sustained challenges against powerful opponents” (1998). Tarrow thus underlines the importance of sustained, repeated action. Moreover, he adds the idea of an antagonist and ‘interaction’ with such an antagonist to the ­definition. Timothy Garton-­Ash agrees with the demand for a ‘common enemy’, only if an a­ ntagonist is present, could “thousands of diverse individuals” be held together (2009: 379).

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Donnatella Della-­Porta and Diani emphasize the importance of dense informal ­networks for the definition of Mario social movements when they claim that “­informal ­networks differentiate social movement processes from the innumerable instances in which collective action takes place” (2006: 114). The ­authors distinguish between networking between the individuals of movements and ­networking b ­ etween individuals and organizations. Individual members of a movement may, for instance, be in contact with different organizations, thus creating ties between organizations. Networking does not only contribute to coordinating initiatives and strategies or recruiting new members, but further prevents members from leaving. Thus, this contributes to the continuity and longevity of movements. Consequentially, Della-­Porta and Diani describe social movements as networks in essence. Della-­Porta and Diani further underline the importance of another characteristic of social movements: a collective identity or a sense of common purpose. They claim that social movement processes only take place “when collective identities develop which go beyond specific events and initiatives” (2006). To qualify for a social movement, protesters must feel connected and must perceive to be sharing a common purpose, regarding themselves as “inextricably linked to other actors” and as elements of larger processes of change or resistance (Della-­ Porta & Diani, 2006). Garton-­Ash agrees that a common identity is required and claims that only with such an identity can movements be held together (2009: 379). Further, in order to grow, protest groups need to connect to other groups. They have to ‘forge alliances’ with groups that might not work in the same field, but whose members oppose the same antagonist (Garton-­Ash, 2009: 379). For movements to be successful, they will have to “switch on the connection between different networks of social change” (Castells, 2012: 17), e.g. between rights networks and economic justice networks. A few remarks on the evaluation of the categories of size, organization and ­networking will be delivered: First, as “typical social movements […] are r­ elatively large groups’ (Opp, 2009: 41), it makes sense to integrate a size ­dimension into a definition of social movements. Also Manuel Castells’ ­writings support the ­demand for a certain size, since he only refers to examples of mass-­scale ­resistance when referring to ‘social movement” (2012). To include absolute ­numbers in a definition does not make sense, however, considering the d ­ ifferences between movements such as the global justice movement and the movement causing the Icelandic Kitchenware-­Revolution. Also, relative numbers do not necessarily make sense, since cutting points at which a group is evaluated as sufficiently big to qualify for a movement always pose the danger of arbitrariness (Opp, 2009:

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41). A good way to evaluate the size of a group is comparing it to other current or former groups, especially in the same field of issues. In connection with the evaluation of the level of organization of a movement, Karl-Dieter Opp justifiably criticizes that many definitions which demand a certain level of organization are too vague on what this entails (2009:37). It is for instance often not clarified if ‘organized’ reflects a hierarchical structure or simply some coordination of certain actions. However, to require a hierarchical structure in order to qualify as a social movement would not be wise, as some movements consciously decide to not implement such a structure. The new digitally influenced, interactive movements are examples of less hierarchical movements (Castells, 2012: 15). Nevertheless, is an organizational structure required to qualify as a social movemnets? Modes of organization could for instance be committees or working groups (Della-­Porta & Diani, 2009: 26). Regarding the requirement of dense networking in order to qualify as a movement, it must be pointed out that also small protest groups (i.e. non-­social movement groups) entail networking. Some networking is thus always given. Nowadays, however, a social movement can be expected to entail a large amount of networking, given the steep increase in networking opportunities due to the Internet and social media. Electronic networking is cheap, fast and easy. The public spaces which movements create and in which movements are networking, are hybrids between digital spaces and ‘traditional’ urban spaces (Castells, 2012: 11). To summarize, a social movement is given if the following characteristics are present: • A collective of individuals engaging in action is given (with the possible involvement of organizations) • aims of social, societal or institutional change are present. • there is a common perception of the antagonist, a common enemy who is challenged • the challenges and actions must be sustained, there must be continuity of action • a certain mode of organizing must exist; not necessarily hierarchical • there must be dense networking inside the movement and between the movement and other possible actors • the movement must have a certain size. It must be ‘large’, whatever that is, e.g. in comparison to other, or former collective actions • there must be a collective identity among the members of the movement. A perception of the sharing of a common purpose and common commitment must be present.

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The definition built over this section is very demanding in terms of the number of characteristics that have to be fulfilled in order to qualify for a social movement. However, without such a demanding stance, comparisons between different kinds of political conflicts become difficult, broad definitions – arguing with Tarrow and Charles tilly (2007) -­obscure the differences between protests and actual social movements. This section aimed to define the term social movement. It has become clear that social movements are specific, particular kinds of mobilization and protests. In this sense are all forms of social movements protests, but not all protests are movements – certain characteristics have to be fulfilled to qualify a protest for being labelled a ‘social movement’. Mobilizations and protests do not qualify for being labeled social movement when the number of participants is small, when acts of resistance are not repeated, when protest is spontaneous instead of organized or when there is no sense of collective identity among the protesters. In some cases it is tricky to decide whether a group is a social movement, or ‘only’ a protest group, there is not always a clear demarcation line.

Mobilization and protest, but no movement This section will explain why current American and German mobilization and protest against surveillance does not qualify for being labeled ‘social movement’. Although the following will only take up cases from the US and Germany, it will give the broad picture of resistance to surveillance in the ‘Western World’. Germany has seen two bigger efforts of protest against surveillance (as of ­summer 2014), one held on 27 July 2013, another on 7 September 2013. The protests in July– called for by several organizations and initiatives -­collected people in several German cities, altogether around 10,000 protesters. Frankfurt saw a protest with 1,000 to 1,500 participants. In Berlin between 500 and 2,000 protesters were on the streets. However, in many cities less people than expected and hoped for by the organizers showed up. Some protests were cancelled due to lack of interest (Frankfurter-­Rundschau, 2013; DW, 2013; Peikert, 2013). Conflicts arose between different fractions of protesters, e.g. at the demonstration in Frankfurt. On 7 September, the first big protest in Germany took place, gathering 10,000 to 15,000 participants in Berlin in the framework of the annual ‘­Freiheit-­statt-­Angst’ [freedom, not fear] demonstrations. Whereas the participants of the protest were quite mixed, half of the participants came from party organizations (Reissmann, 2013a; Gruber, 2013). However, the ‘Freiheit-­ statt-­Angst’ demonstrations rather resemble the continuation of an annual ritual rather than a genuinely new development. The demonstration has taken place

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for a number of years, the only difference in 2013 was a slight rise in the number of participants. It is to say that many of the protesters in Germany have problems finding a common antagonist. While some protesters were demonstrating against ‘the NSA’, ‘the US’ or Obama, others were integrating European and German authorities in their criticism, or aiming at hegemonic power in general. At some demonstrations, protestors were even criticizing each other. For example, at the Frankfurt demonstration in July 2013, many protestors were not happy with the involvement of representatives of the FDP, the then minor party of the government coalition. A speaker of this party – Jörg-­Uwe Hahn -­was met with catcalls when he tried to explain how the actions of the NSA were not justifiable, while defending the course of the government. Supporters of government parties and other protesters started arguing during the demonstrations (Peikert, 2013). Further, already before the demonstration on 7 September 2013, one could read about rifts between protesters. Internet activists feared that parties would try to steal attention shortly before general elections; especially the Pirate-­Party was seen with suspicion. Further, certain activist groups were blamed of acting too self-­interestedly, not coordinating with other groups (Kaul, 2013). It can be assumed that problems in finding a common antagonist and internal conflicts affected the collective identity of the protestors in a negative way. Although from the perspective of this chapter, it is tough to explicitly analyze the identity processes inside of those protests, it seems reasonable to assume that a sense of common commitment, common belonging and shared purpose is tough to develop under the described circumstances. The US saw protests against NSA surveillance on 4 July 2013. Although protests took place in around 80 cities around the country, they were very small; e.g. the protest in San Francisco only around attracted 250 people (Kelly, 2013). The largest protest in the US took place on 26 October 2013, when around 100 organizations and some prominent individuals called for protests and collected a quite heterogeneous crowd in Washington. The organizers estimated that more than 2,000 people took part (Selyukh & Savoy, 2013). However, no major protest has taken place since. An initiative that raised public attention was a petition signed by more than 500 authors, including Orhan Pamuk, Umberto Eco, Günter Grass and Elfriede Jellinek. The petition has so far been signed by around 220,000 individuals around the globe (change.org, 2014). When protests collecting a few thousand people took place, would this not qualify for a social movement, one might ask? The answer is that several of the characteristics of a movement were fulfilled, but since some others were not

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fulfilled, from the standpoint of this chapter, the protests do not qualify for being labeled ‘social movement’. What we find in Germany and the US is thus something one might call ‘non-­movement-­mobilizations’, ‘other collective action’ or: ‘small, unrepeated and too diverse protests’. The criteria which the described protests fail to fulfill in order to qualify as a social movement are foremost the criteria of size and continuity. It can further be argued that problems concerning the demand of a common antagonist and a collective identity exist. We have indeed seen some protests, but in both the US and Germany, the total numbers of protests and protesters were small. For the time being, any bigger efforts of physical ‘in-­the-­streets-­protests’ have stopped in both countries. The demand of sustained, repeated action is thus not met. Furthermore, the incidents of physical protest taking place were not very intense compared to other recent movements. Compared to the efforts of the Occupy movements, two Saturday afternoons of protest in the course of several month seem to be rather sporadic. Occupy reached a far bigger size, continuity, intensity and commitment than any effort to counter surveillance. Occupy executed long-­lasting physical resistance with occupying public spaces for longer time spans. On 15 October 2011, the movement coordinated protests of hundreds of thousands in 951 cities in 82 countries (Castells, 2012: 156, 271), thus clearly resembling a movement. So far, the US has not produced any protests against surveillance that would be big enough to resemble a movement. A few thousand protesters in July and just over 2,000 in October are not much for a country of 300 million; especially not when considering the immense media coverage of the issue. The number of people who signed the petition of the writers could be evaluated as large (220,000). However, we should have in mind that this is a global petition, that the effort to sign is reduced to two minutes of time, and that the size seems small when compared to only the in-­the-­streets participants of the ‘Indignados’ movement, estimated at 2.2 million (Castells, 2012: 115). In addition, the petition collected only 20,000 new supporters in the first half of 2014, revealing a lack of momentum. Germany saw some minor protests in July 2013 and one bigger protest in September 2013. However, as mentioned, the one bigger protest was the continuation of an annually held demonstration. And even this one bigger protest was not remarkably big, considering the intense media coverage of surveillance, and remembering earlier incidents of protest in the same field of issues. The following paragraphs will underline these historical arguments. At the beginning of 2012, ACTA (Anti-­Counterfeiting-­Trade-­Agreement) did meet global criticism and ultimately protest from Internet activists and rights

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activists. In Germany, 100,000 protesters gathered across the country (Gamperl, 2013). In comparison to efforts facing surveillance, ACTA was a much narrower issue and produced a more specific antagonist. Likewise, in 2009, the ‘Freiheit-­ statt-­Angst’ demonstrations gathered twice as many participants as in 2013, although the ongoing issue (a planned ban of certain illegal webpages) was not as overarching and far-­reaching as the one in 2013 (Reissmann, 2013a). This shows that a much larger potential for Internet oriented protest exists in Germany. This potential also rests on past movements/protests in connection with privacy and rights issues, such as the movement against the census in 1983. Back then, German authorities announced the conduction of a census, a measure not exceeding the limits of earlier censuses, but which was nevertheless perceived to be an illegitimate surveillance measure. Consequently, the debate on the 1983 census was conducted in a fierce and excited manner and spread quickly across society, half of the population being opposed the census. This triggered a movement lasting four years, reflecting a cross-­section of West-­Germany’s society and gathered thousands of participants at demonstrations and hundreds of thousands of boycotters of the census (Schaar, 2009: 101; Reymann, 2011; Lobo, 2013). An organized mass movement consisting of over 1000 smaller initiatives arose against an issue that is to be evaluated as of minor significance compared to current surveillance. These examples show that mass movements against issues infringing on something as abstract as the rights of the individual are possible in rich Western countries. They were possible in the past, and they are possible today.

Reasons for the non-­formation of a movement confronting mass surveillance This section will return to the hypotheses regarding the non-­existence of a social movement facing mass surveillance. The empirical discussions are limited to the German context. However, many of the points delivered seem symptomatic of the situation in other Western countries. As can be deducted from the historical examples given above, a movement against surveillance would seem more likely in Germany than in other European countries; explanations for why a movement has not come about in Germany thus gain special significance. A central point regarding the creation of social movements is taken from Castells’ writings and will be lined out before discussing the hypotheses mentioned. Castells emphasizes that social movements are emotional movements, claiming that ‘the big bang of a social movement starts with the transformation of emotion into action’ (2012). Strategizing and organization would come later. Based

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on research on affective intelligence (Neumann et  al., 2007) and on research demonstrating the prominent role of emotions in social behavior (Damasio, 2003), Castells states that emotions are central for the formation of movements. According to Castells, emotions play a decisive role in our decision making (2009: 143), including the decision to join a movement. Emotions would work as “relevance detectors” in decision making (2009: 151). This interpretation is shared by a study by Ted Brader, claiming that emotions “redirect attention and motivate thought into action” (2006: 185). This is further in line with research results by George E. Marcus, Russell W. Neumann and Michael MacKuen (2000), who state that importance is only assigned to policy issues when the latter arouse emotions. However, as Castells emphasizes, social context is important for the reception of emotional messages (2009: 152). According to Castells, especially the emotions of hope and anger play a role for the formation of movements. Anger would allow individuals to overcome the certain amount of fear that is pertained in every consideration of participating in protesting hegemonic power. Anger would lower the risk perception of individuals and lead to greater acceptance of risks (2009: 147). Castells’ claim that “anger increases with the perception of an unjust action and with the identification of the agent responsible for the action” (2012: 14) underlines the importance of the perception of an antagonist for a movement. Learning about the sufferings of individuals with whom it is possible to identify would further increase the potential of anger (2012: 15). Castells’ explanation gains understanding when reflecting how quick protests have often grown after individual incidents which potential protesters evaluated as appalling. Another important emotion contributing to the creation of movements is hope, Castells claims. He describes hope as “a fundamental ingredient in ­supporting goal-­seeking action” (2012: 14). Hope would be fundamental for “­political behavior oriented toward achieving well-­ being in the future” (2009: 150). However, in order to act on hope, anxiety has to be overcome. Anger is a way of doing this. Therefore anger and hope are connected in the f­ormation-­phase of a movement. The emphasis on emotional processes does not try to negate the importance of ideas and ideologies for movements. They are indispensable for transforming emotion-­driven action into deliberation and project construction (Castells, 2012: 16). However, without certain emotions being evoked, it is difficult to imagine how individuals would be motivated to participate in a possibly risky process of protesting. Of course, ideologies might be responsible for the creation of feelings of injustice and subsequently anger inside of individuals. In the following the hypotheses from section one are discussed.

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One of the points contributing to the explanation of why a social movement has not formed, is hypothesis two, claiming that the issue is not triggering enough anger. This hypothesis is thus directly connecting to the explanation of the importance of anger for the motivation of potential members of a movement. If detecting a lack of anger, one would come to the conclusion that a basic demand for the creation of a movement is not fulfilled. When trying to evaluate the amount of anger present among the German population in regard to mass surveillance, representative polls constitute a valuable source. In order to avoid the impression ‘cherry-­picked’ poll results, several polls by three different research institutions have been used. One such poll from August 2013 showed that many Germans are critical of the revealed mass surveillance, 51 percent stated that they did not want ‘somebody to be able to check what I am doing on the Internet’. Only 17 percent still trusted the state in terms of data protection (Allensbach, 2013). 60 percent of the population considers Snowden to be a hero, as another poll revealed, indicating widespread sympathy for his cause (infratest-­dimap, 2013). However, although a majority of the German population considers mass surveillance as wrong, no intense widespread sense of anger developed. In the Allensbach poll, only 24 percent of the people asked stated that they were very concerned about NSA surveillance, 32 percent were somewhat concerned and 42 percent were barely or not at all concerned (2013: 17). If, in connection with the explanation above, we assume that one would need to be ‘very concerned’ in order to join a social movement, already 76 percent of the population sample out as potential members of a movement. However, in Germany, 24 percent of potential protesters would still result in many million participants; why are they not in the streets? An answer is delivered by the most telling sheet in the Allensbach poll, a sheet ranking the concerns of the population. Here, ‘American surveillance’ ranked last of the fourteen options of political or societal issues that people could be ‘concerned’ about. This result was confirmed by another survey in January 2014 (ZDF-­Politbarometer, 2014): Here, surveillance was identified as the most important problem by 3 percent of the people asked, ranking number 15. On the other hand, in the Allensbach ranking on issues that people ‘recently spoke about’, the surveillance issue comes in as the first political issue on the list, with 46 percent of respondents confirming that they spoke about this issue recently (2013: 15). The latter shows that it is not a lack of media attention which is behind the lack of a movement, the media pushed the surveillance issue to the most discussed issue for quite a while, as proven by the poll. It also shows that a big share of the population did communicate about the issue, thus fulfilling one of the demands for the creation of a movement as explained by Castells. However, it seems that

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the topic simply just did not raise enough anger or concern to create a big movement. All top five entries in the ranking of the most widespread concerns relate to economic topics (energy prices, a growing cleavage between rich and poor, Germany’s bailouts in the Euro-­crisis, rising taxes, instable currency), showing that currently, the biggest potential for concern and anger and consequently a movement is within the field of economic developments. This illustrates that the societal context is important in the creational process of a movement. Without economic worries, people might be more receptive and possibly exercising more resistance with regard to the issue of surveillance. What is also missing in order to create more anger is the common perception of an antagonist, a common enemy as Garton-­Ash calls it, through which individuals could unite. The problems concerning identification of a common antagonist and the possible consequences of this for a collective identity were already explained above. Protesters in Germany had a hard time agreeing on a common antagonist, thus undermining conditions for a collective identity. To have different antagonists does not create a common target of anger, but leads to ‘the anger’ running in different directions as demonstrated at the Frankfurt demonstration. The chances of agreeing on a common antagonist are diminished by the sometimes confusing, sometimes contradicting media coverage of the issue and the diverging evaluations of protest ‘leaders’ (entrepreneurs). Different newschapter items – even from the same chapters – attribute blame to different sets of players. For example, the title of Der-­Spiegel on 8 July 2013 read a quote of Snowden saying that German intelligence is cooperating with the NSA; another Spiegel publication from January 2014 directed blame also to the British GCHQ (Reissmann, 2014), and a publication by sociologist Nils Zurawski in Die-­Zeit in November 2013 blamed desensitization and consumer society for being responsible for creating preconditions of surveillance (2013), thus all directing blame to more than the NSA or the US. On the other hand, publications of the Frankfurter-­Allgemeine-­Zeitung in August 2013 and Der-­Spiegel from November 2013 directed blame only towards the NSA (Der-­Spiegel, 2013b). The clash of evaluations among protesters is illustrated by the examples of Jörg-­Uwe Hahn, the FDP speaker at the Frankfurt demonstration, arguing against the NSA but in favor of the government, and Jacob Appelbaum, an American activist including both the NSA and the German government in his criticism and calling on the German population to vote Merkel out of office at the Berlin demonstration (Gruber, 2013). In combination, these factors contributed to the creation of various alternative definitions, or re-­definitions of the problem of mass surveillance. There are two overall prevalent ways of understanding or interpreting the

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problem of surveillance, one might also call them ‘frames’. The first sees a conflict between ‘the governments’, ‘the surveillance machine’, ‘the intelligence services’ or ‘the hegemonic power’ on the one side and ‘the people’ and ‘the citizens’ on the other side. The second interpretation sees a conflict between ‘the US’, ‘the US government’ or ‘Americans’ on the one side and ‘Europe’, ‘Germany’ or ‘Germans’ on the other side. So, while in the first hegemonic power in a broader sense is blamed, in the latter the blame is directed more specifically towards the US and its agencies. As a result, different ‘us-­versus-­them-­narratives’ are created among potential protesters. It musts be assumed that this contributes to a lack of collective identity, aims and antagonists, thereby weakening efforts to make the protests a movement. Accordingly, Markus Beckedahl, head of one of the protest initiatives, reported that the protesters were ‘fragmented’ (Gamperl, 2013). The creation of anger and consequently a more intense movement is further undermined by the lack of known victims of mass surveillance. This connects to Castells’ point claiming that anger is increased by learning about sufferings of individuals with whom it is possible to identify. In the reporting on mass surveillance focus was on Snowden and the NSA, not on victims of mass surveillance. This was not because there are no victims whose stories could be told, the media simply did not connect the revelations regarding surveillance with stories of individuals who were treated as terror suspects, and whose rights were harshly violated. Examples in the German context could have been the stories of Khaled el-­Masri or Murat Kurnaz, German citizens abducted by American intelligence units based on (false) information gained via surveillance (Trojanow & Zeh, 2009). Those cases were possibly simply ‘too old’ from a media logic perspective for outweighing the ‘fresh’ news of the prominent cases. Most mass media did fill this ‘personalization gap’ by focusing on the personal stories of Snowden, Greenwald and Merkel. Brad Plumer in the Washington-­Post and Jillian York from the Electronic-­Frontier-­Foundation argued already in the summer of 2013 that many journalists put more focus on Snowden’s personal story than on the content of his revelations (Plumer, 2013; York, 2013). The same trend was detectable in Germany. After word was out that Angela Merkel’s phone had been surveyed, the news magazine Focus even set up a ‘live-­ticker’ for people to follow the latest developments. This illustrates that more importance is assigned to surveillance of politicians than surveillance of citizens. The only stories of ‘victims’ of surveillance making it to the chapters in Germany in the months after Snowden’s revelations are the stories of Ilja Trojanow and Daniel Bangert. Trojanow, a German author, was not allowed to enter the US, purportedly due to publications criticizing US surveillance (Der-­Spiegel, 2013a). However, the story circled again around a known writer and not an ‘everyday individual’. Bangert,

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a young man from Germany, was woken by police officers one morning after he wrote a goofy message on Facebook, revealing his plans of ‘having a look’ at an American intelligence complex nearby. However, media reports very soon focused on his excursions to the complex, not the fact that he had come into police focus due to a Facebook status. In essence, the focus on the lives and fate of prominent dissidents and surveyed politicians took away focus from the main issue, the violation of rights of millions of ‘regular’ people around the globe. It must be assumed that the lacking reporting on individual victims of surveillance contributed to the missing intensity of anger and reduced the possibilities to commonly identify with an issue. When everyday-­life victims are portrayed by media, people become more concerned and angry with the trigger of the suffering. It can be assumed that the lack of publicly known victims contributed to the fact that only 11 percent of Germans fear personal disadvantages due to surveillance (Allensbach, 2013:18). Another factor preventing mass surveillance from creating a large amount of anger and concern among the population is the fact that surveillance is a very abstract issue (hypothesis 1). This assessment is shared by some of the protesters, such as Markus Beckedahl, head of one of the initiatives. Beckedahl held that the issue is hard to grasp for ‘regular’ citizens: “Who can imagine what it means that the entire life is saved somewhere and potentially used against oneself at one point” (DW, 2013). Also sociologist Zurawski agrees with this assessment. He further points” out that mass surveillance does not have an immediately detectable impact on the lives of (almost all) citizens, and that ‘being surveyed’ is not an everyday routine which citizens are reflecting on (2013). The ranking of concern presented above confirms Zurawski’s point; people were concerned about issues that have immediate consequences (e.g. energy prices or rising taxes) rather than inscrutable surveillance measures violating ‘abstract’ rights. The claim of the issue being abstract and hard to grasp is supported by a poll conducted by the think-­tank GfK, which found that slightly more than half of the respondents could not identify the names of surveillance programs such as Tempora, Prism or XKeyscore (Reissmann, 2013b). Other than with issues such as terrorism, surveillance does not expose people to powerful pictures underlining rights violation (connecting to the point on missing individual victims). This is another reason why the threat of surveillance stays abstract. It can be assumed that the characteristic of surveillance as being abstract, hard to grasp and without immediate effect, contributes to the lack of anger and to confusion concerning the antagonist. All of this undermines the potential for forming a movement. In connection with the discussed disagreement among protesters, the diverse interpretations regarding who the antagonist is and the lack of explicit publicly

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known victims with whom to identify, it is to be evaluated that a common identity is hard to imagine among current protesters against surveillance. According to Garton-­Ash, a lack of such a common identity must now lead to a lack in intensity of the protests, prevent unity among protesters and prevent continuity of the protests. This is exactly what has been seen in the past few months: protesters could not agree, protests were rather tame and most participants have not come back. Another factor contributing to the lack of a movement is that a shrinking importance of privacy is already embedded in the consciousness of citizens. In other words, surveillance was neither a surprise, nor the decreasing privacy that surveillance brings. If an issue is not surprising, it can hardly be assumed that it will trigger the emotions necessary to create and sustain a movement. People will simply not be angry enough to act. Intelligence experts and Internet experts knew about mass-­scale surveillance for some years, therefore the revelations were not a surprise to them. This claim is confirmed by statements of activists and insiders such as Jacob Appelbaum (2012). And also the population – especially in the most recent years – has become used to the idea that we live in a world with less privacy. Many people have noticed the change, but quickly gotten used to the concept. Everyday life has become dependent on digital information, and the sharing of such information; this being a consequence of the modern consumer society and of everyday routines not running along demands of data protection, as noted by Zurawski (2013). Mass surveillance is thus the flip-­side of information society. Scholar Shoshana Zuboff and journalist Sascha Lobo share this assessment when describing how the Internet – and here especially social media such as Facebook – has desensitized people and conditioned them to willingly give away very private data (Lobo, 2013; Zuboff, 2013). Ilija Trojanow and Juli Zeh speak of ‘a perfect synthesis’ between voyeurism and exhibitionism which the Internet constructs (2009: 77). A study by Bernhard Debatin et al. agrees with this assessment, e.g. describing that for many people, the use of social media outweighs privacy concerns, even after experiencing privacy invasion themselves (2009). People have internalized the trade of privacy for ‘all sorts of supposed benefits’ (von Drehle, 2013). Lobo as well as Trojanow and Zeh point out that for many people it might not represent a significant change that instead of ‘only’ private companies collecting and using data, citizens have learned that there are state institutions doing ‘the same thing’ (Lobo, 2013; Trojanow & Zeh, 2009: 77). Of course, there is a difference between a company using data for marketing and state authorities starting to collect all data in reach, but not every citizen might analyze seemingly similar actions from a civil rights perspective (Lobo, 2013).

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Hypothesis 8 claimed that potential members of a movement would feel that there is not much hope for a change or a success of a possible movement and would therefore refrain from joining. This relates to one of Castells’ points, claiming that hope is “a fundamental ingredient in supporting goal-­seeking action” (2012: 14). A poll reveals that the German population does not have much hope for mass surveillance to be stopped. Even in the unlikely event of a ‘no-­spy-­ agreement’ with the US being signed, 92 percent assume that US intelligence would simply continue to collect data (infratest-­dimap, 2013). Another poll reveals that more than half of German Internet users believe that one simply has to take into account a certain amount of surveillance (Reissmann, 2013b). These numbers show that a substantial proportion of the population is disillusioned concerning the chances to curtail surveillance. The assessment that hope is missing among potential members of a movement is shared by activist Kai-­Uwe Steffens, who states that many people refrain from protesting since they would not believe to be able to succeed over intelligence agencies (Gamperl, 2013). In connection with the demand that alliances between heterogeneous groups have to be forged in order to create a movement, it must be concluded that a lack of alliances cannot be argued to be responsible for the lack of a movement. The ‘Freiheit-­statt-­Angst’ demonstrations were supported by many different groups and organizations, thus representing a sufficiently heterogeneous alliance. The call for the ‘Freiheit-­statt-­Angst’ demonstrations represented eighty-­ five groups, bringing together such different groups as Anonymous, Attac, the International League for Human Rights, representatives of the best known German political parties (excluding the conservatives), the labor union Verdi and the Young-­Catholic-­Congregation (Blog.freiheitstattangst.de, 2013). Admittedly, certain groups were missing on the list in comparison to calls for protest against ACTA from 2012 (stoppacta-­protest.info, 2012), e.g. the Junge-­Union [the young conservatives], implying a lack of support from the conservative spectrum of society, and also the Chaos-­Computer-­Club joined rather late. Nevertheless, the list of supporting groups is long, only the number of participants did not reflect the long and heterogeneous list. On basis of the latter it is not possible to conclude that a lack of alliances is behind the lack of a movement. More striking is the difference in numbers of protesters between the 2013 protests facing surveillance and the ACTA protests. One will have to refute the hypothesis claiming that potential members of a movement refrain from participating due to awareness of the dangers posed by surveillance and fears of not being anonymous any more (hypothesis 4). Although it seems very likely that potential protesters hold the perception that ‘autonomous communication’ is not possible anymore via the Internet, those

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who know this better than most -­Internet experts and activists -­have been participating in the protests. Online means have been used by the same people for protesting as well, e.g. the online petition mentioned. The latter hypothesis is further refuted by the fact that only 11 percent of the population is personally concerned about surveillance (Allensbach, 2013). Another poll (infratest-­dimap, 2013) found that 90 percent have not changed habits as a reaction to surveillance revelations. These numbers do not support the claim that people are ‘too afraid’ to start a movement. Hypothesis 5 claimed that a movement could be prevented, as a considerable proportion of potential members might be of the opinion that the best way to confront surveillance is via the Internet and not via public resistance. This claim is resting on the idea that activists in favor of a free Internet would possibly prefer to fight mass surveillance via digital means only, instead of taking to the streets. This would collide with one of the demands by Castells to social movements, which is to be generally ‘visible’, both digitally but also in ‘real’ urban space (2012: 10). The relatively large number of people signing online petitions etc. compared to actual protesters in the streets, and the fact that many Internet activists come forward with efforts to make Internet communication ‘safe again’ (e.g. via cryptography) seem to confirm this hypothesis. However, there are substantial counter-­arguments: First, the petitions are only seemingly large (compared to assigned reach and time effort). Second, Internet experts are not only promoting cryptography, but it is also primarily this group of activists which is engaging in protest: the example of Jacob Appelbaum has been mentioned, the ‘Internet party’, the Pirate-­Party, is involved, and also the Chaos-­Computer-­ Club is involved in protests and debates on the issue (DW, 2013, Gamperl, 2013). What is missing is thus not ‘the nerds’, but the big mass of citizens.

Conclusion This chapter discussed the current mobilizations and protests against mass surveillance in Western countries. It was reflected that mobilizations and protests exist, e.g. in the form of demonstrations, online petitions and the spread of cryptography. However, it was argued that these mobilizations and protests against surveillance do not qualify for being labeled a social movement. In order to arrive at the latter conclusion, a definition of what a social movement actually is and necessarily entails had to be established. By comparing the current mobilizations and protests with this definition, it became clear that the mentioned mobilizations lack size, continuity, identity and a common enemy. Therefore is it currently not possible to speak of a social movement against surveillance. This is

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not to say that these mobilizations have no effect at all. Some mobilizations, such as efforts to spread cryptography, have already had an effect, albeit small. However, the campaign rather seems to be an attempt to cure the symptoms instead of the sickness. Calls for mass mobilizations via demonstrations and petitions gathered too few followers to create real incentives for policymakers to change the status quo of surveillance. Some demonstrations, such as the ‘Freiheit-­statt-­ Angst’ demonstration in Berlin, further seem to be more of a ritual than a genuine attempt of creating a mass movement. Current mobilizations thus remained ‘non-­movement protests’. Demonstrations and petitions have raised some awareness but have had no detectable effect on surveillance practices. The subsequent part of the chapter tried to answer the question why a movement against surveillance has not been formed. The chapter operated in the empirical context of Germany. This limits the potential for generalizing my findings. However, it can be assumed that several – possibly many -­of my conclusions apply in other Western countries as well. This is especially the case since it would have to be expected that a movement against privacy infringement is more likely in Germany than in other countries due to historical precedents of such a hypothetical movement in the country. The section discussing reasons for the non-­formation of a movement in Germany referred back to nine hypotheses presented in the first section of the chapter. Support was produced for hypotheses 1, 2, 3, 6, 7, 8 and 9, however, not for hypotheses 4 and 5. The lack of anger among the population appears as a crucial issue for explaining the lack of a movement. However, this lack of anger is again resting on other variables, e.g. the lack of a common perception of who the antagonist is, the abstractness of the issue, the fact that most of the population have already gotten used to the idea of giving up some privacy (or are not reflecting at all on such issues any more). Another variable contributing is the lack of hope for an improvement of the situation. It can be assumed that some of the variables mentioned further prevent the creation of a collective identity among the protesters, contributing to a fragmentation of protests instead of creating a sustained movement. Also, the current context of another crisis, the economic crisis (or debt crisis), has played a role for the non-­formation of a movement facing surveillance. It was concluded that the crisis evoked the concerns and potential for anger of the German population much more than rights or privacy issues. Clearly, several of the hypotheses supported are interrelated, they are interlinked and contribute to each other. It is therefore almost impossible to say which variable is the most important factor standing in the way of a social movement on mass surveillance. Obviously, the non-­existence of a perception of a common

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antagonist has an influence on several other variables and might thus be one of the more important variables, whereas the variable of a collective identity is rather an outcome of some of the other variables and thus holds less explanatory power. Despite all explanations as to why a social movement on mass surveillance is currently non-­existing, and also not very likely, such a movement is not impossible. Some events might change the potential for anger among the population, e.g. an increased identification of victims or less focus on economic crises. Consequently, a movement might emerge. The already existing mobilizations and protests might be able to overcome their shortcomings and make protest against surveillance a central issue of politics. However, a sudden appearance of a movement taking on surveillance seems unlikely, unfortunately.

Bibliography Allensbach (2013) “Wirkungslose Aufregung”. Available at: . Appelbaum, J. et al. (2012) Cypherpunks: Unsere Freiheit und die Zukunft des Internets. Frankfurt: Campus Verlag. Blog.freiheitstattangst.de (2013) “Demonstration Freiheit statt Angst”. Available at: . Brader, T. (2006). Campaigning for Hearts and Minds: How Emotional Appeals in Political Ads Work. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Brewer, J. & Hunter, A. (2006). Foundations of Multimethod Research. Thousand Oaks: Sage. Castells,  M. (2012). Networks of Outrage and Hope – Social Movements in the Internet Age. Cambridge: Polity Press. Castells, M. (2009). Communication Power. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Change.org (2014) “Die Demokratie verteidigen im digitalen Zeitalter”. Available at: . Damasio, A. (2003) Looking For Spinoza Joy, Sorrow and the Feeling Brain. Orlando: Harcourt Books. Debatin,  A. et  al. (2009) “Facebook and Online Privacy: Attitudes, Behaviors, and Unintended Consequences”, Journal of Computer-­Mediated Communication, Vol. 15: 83-­108.

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Della-­Porta, D. & Diani, M. (2006) Social Movements: An Introduction. Malden: Blackwell Publishing. Der-­Spiegel (2013a) “NSA-­Kritiker Ilija Trojanow: Deutscher Schriftsteller darf nicht in die USA einreisen”. 1 October. Der-­Spiegel (2013b) “Drei Viertel der Deutschen haben keine Angst vor NSA”, 2 November. DW (2013) “Verhaltener Protest gegen NSA-­Überwachung”, Deutsche-­Welle [online], 30 July. Frankfurter-­Rundschau (2013) “Proteste gegen Überwachung”, 27 July. Gamperl, E. (2013) “Kommt jetzt der NSA-­Protest?”, Die-­Zeit [online] 27 July. Garton-­Ash, T. (2009) “A Century of Civil Resistance: Some Lessons and Questions”. In Roberts & Garton-­Ash (eds.), Civil Resistance and Power Politics. Oxford: Oxford University Press: 371-­90. Greenwald, G. (2014) No Place to Hide: Edward Snowden, the NSA and the Surveillance State. London: Hamish Hamilton. Gruber, A. (2013) “Die Wut der Überwachten wächst”, Die-­Zeit [online], 7 September. Infratest-­dimap (2013) “ARD Deutschlandtrend: November 2013”. Available at: . Jenkins, J. C. & Form, W. (2005) “Social Movements and Social Change”. In Janoski, Alford, Hicks & Schwartz (eds.), The Handbook of Political Sociology: States, Civil Societies and Globalization. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press: 331-­48. Kaul,  M. (2013) “Proteste gegen Überwachung -­Ärger statt Angst”, TAZ, 5 September. Kelly, H. (2013) “Protests against NSA spring up across US”, CNN [online], 5 July. Lobo,  S. (2013) “Angriff auf die Meinungsfreiheit”, Der-­Spiegel [online], 20 August. Marcus, G., Neuman, R. & MacKuen, M. (2000) Affective Intelligence and Political Judgment. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Neuman, R., Marcus, G., MacKuen, M.& Crigler, A. (2007) The Affect Effect: Dynamics of Emotion in Political Thinking and Behavior. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

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Opp, K.-­D. (2009) Theories of Political Protest and Social Movements: A Multidisciplinary Introduction, Critique, and Synthesis. London: Routledge. Peikert, D. (2013) “Hat keinen Plan, Joerg-­Uwe Hahn”, Frankfurter-­Allgemeine-­ Zeitung, 27 July. Poitras, L. et al. (2013) “Angriff aus Amerika”, Der-­Spiegel, No 27, 1 July. Plumer, B. (2013) “These charts show how the Edward Snowden story is overwhelming the NSA story”, Washington Post, 3 July. Hut”, Der-­Spiegel [online], 7 Reissmann,  O. (2013a) “Freiheit unterm Alu-­ September. Reissmann,  O. (2013b) “Was ist eigentlich dieses Tempora?”, Der-­Spiegel [online], 12 November. Reissmann, O. (2014) “Britischer Geheimdienst analysiert Klicks auf Facebook und YouTube”. Spiegel [online], 28 January. Reymann, K. (2011) “Volkszählung 1987: Bürgerprotest und Boykott-­Initiativen”, Frankfurter-­Allgemeine-­Zeitung, 7 May. Schaar, P. (2009) Das Ende der Privatsphäre. Munich: Goldmann. Selyukh, A. & Savoy, G. (2013) “Protesters march in Washington against NSA spying”, Reuters [online], 26 October. Skinner,  Q. (2013) “Liberty, Liberalism and Surveillance: a historic overview”. OpenDemocracy [online], 26 July. Snow,  D. & Oliver,  P. (1995) “Social Movements and Collective Behavior: Social Psychological Dimensions and Considerations”. In Cook, Fine & House (eds.), Sociological Perspectives and Social Psychology. Boston: Allyn and Bacon: 571-­99. stoppacta-­protest.info (2012) Available at: . Tilly, C. & Tarrow, S. (2007) Contentious Politics. Boulder: Paradigm Publishers. Tarrow, S. (1998) Power In Movement Social Movements, Collective Action and Politics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Toch,  H. (1965) The Social Psychology Of Social Movements. Indianapolis: Bobbs-­Merril. Trojanow, I. & Zeh, J. (2009) Angriff auf die Freiheit: Sicherheitswahn, Überwachungsstaat und der Abbau bürgerlicher Rechte. Munich: Carl Hanser Verlag.

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Von Drehle, D. (2013) “The Surveillance Society”, TIME, 1 August. York, J. (2013) “Media Continues to Focus on Snowden Rather Than the Information He’s Revealed”, Freedom of the Press Foundation [online], 14 July. Zald, M. N. & Ash, R. (1966) “Social Movement Organizations: Growth, Decay and Change”, Social Forces, Vol. 44, 327-­41. ZDF-­Politbarometer (2014) “62 Prozent finden: Holpriger Start der GroKo”, heute.de, 17 January. Zurawski, N. (2013) “Die Privatsphäre ist nicht überflüssig”, Die-­Zeit, 5 November. Zuboff, S. (2013) “Be the friction–our response to the New Lords of the Ring”, Frankfurter-­Allgemeine-­Zeitung, 25 June.

Part II. Movements

Giuseppe Cocco

The Dance of the Fireflies in Brazil Abstract This chapter offers an analysis of the insurgence in Brazil 2013. In the chapter it is shown how the young and the poor reaffirm the basic principles of politics, of democracy and of freedom through actions and language. It outlines the heterogeneity of the Brazilian multitude and argues that for the first time, the protests were successful in showing that the horizon of democratic deepening is implied in the achievement of the right to politics not possesses by the poor of the favelas, outskirts, and peripheries. The chapter argues that struggle is constitutive for justice, and without struggles there cannot be justice. Transforming the rage and indignation into political action is therefore necessary in order to deepen democracy.

The river of the multitude went to the third bank of Rio de Janeiro In early April 2013, thousands of young people protested against the rise in public transport fares in Porto Alegre until the City Hall suspended the measure. On June 7, the multitude of metropolitan workers in São Paulo began a wave of demonstrations, protesting against the increase in bus fares. Despite the harsh repression, the uprising spread like a virus to all the cities, peripheries, and suburbs of the country. Thus, the social struggle for public transport was contaminated by countless protests, particularly by the demonstrations against the mega events, transforming each match of the Confederations Cup into massive demonstrations of protest. At the opening of the confederations Cup and Brasilia’s stadium on June 15, the boos from the fans in response to the authorities present (president Dilma Roussef and the FIFA president Joseph Blatter) inside the post-­modern Coliseum echoed the explosion of tear gas and rubber bullets. The military police of the federal capital (in other words, of the governing party, PT) used them generously, with their usual brutality, to disperse the protesters who demanded from outside the stadium, “Who is the World Cup for?” The intention of the power was to remove any obstacle that could disturb the plans for the “grand party”. Likewise in Rio de Janeiro, the peaceful protest, during the re-­inauguration of the lavish and sanitized Maracana stadium on June 16, was efficiently and

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mercilessly repressed. On that occasion, local Rio protestors experienced a “kidnapping” scenario, as a result of being trapped for hours without a possibility of escape in any direction in Quinta da Boa Vista (a public park in the São Cristóvão neighborhood) – immersed in clouds of tear gas. The World Cup was to take place within the framework established by the self-­referential consensus of the governments, contractors, and FIFA. “The show must go on”, but there was a new circumstance: the “public” had invited itself to participate, and in its own fashion. Facing the multitude in June, the left wing of the government became frightened. The only discursive regime that they initially established was that of disqualifying the demonstrations as being conservative (“right wing”), or even having coup intentions. Afterwards, they sought to disqualify the “hooligans” and “masked vandals”. More specifically, the young people who were supporters of the black block tactics made “front page news”, including the unexpected participation of a philosophy historian from the University of São Paulo (USP) in criminalizing the movement. Others spoke of the “hypnotized mass”, however without being able to say, even in the most allusive terms, who would be the “hypnotist”. The term “fascist” was used with the same intensity as the tear gas. Rio de Janeiro’s reactionary newspaper, O Globo, went on to publish articles about the “history of fascism”. This is logical, political and historically ironic abuse, because it leads us directly to Walter Benjamin’s writings about the causes that led to the defeat of the European workers movement. It was the trust in progress that disarmed the struggle against fascism. Those who disqualified and are disqualifying the movement of June to October 2013 are in fact the same individuals who allowed themselves to be corrupted by real fascism. There is nothing which has corrupted the German working-­class so much as the opinion that they were swimming with the tide. Technical developments counted to them as the course of the stream, which they thought they were swimming in. From this, it was only a step to the illusion that the factory-­labor set forth by the path of technological progress represented a political achievement (Benjamin, 1992: 163).

What was the extermination camp, if not a factory with its whistle? “This whistle” – wrote Primo Levi, an Auschwitz survivor – “[…] is to some degree essential: we have already heard it, so many times, connected to the suffering from labor and the Camp […]” (Levi, 1988[1958]: 60). Those who spoke so much of fascism (and even Nazism) during and after the June period did so not only in an abusive manner, they also mystified the fact that this is neo-­development operating in a doubly totalitarian logic of progress:

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through an instrumental rationality that mobilizes it, and through the governability pact that sustains it. Fascism is in the continuity of the cleavage that separates the slave owner’s house from the slave quarters, in the reproduction of a slavery supporting elite. Fascism is in the governability pact and its government of contractors. Fascism is the cable car in the Complexo do Alemao (favela complex in the North Zone of Rio). It is there with its million-­dollar suspended cabins navigating through the sky of the favela full of garbage, where the houses collapse after the the PAC (Growth Acceleration Program). Fascism is the attitude of the president of the Institute of Pereira Passos, claiming that his concern – in response to the demonstrations by Rocinha residents against the cable car and for the sanitation of the river of sewage flowing in the “Valão” (ditch) neighborhood – is to “disarticulate the movement”, to impose the cable car (in La Roque, 2013).1 The power openly declares that their objective is to disarticulate democracy. Thus, at the beginning of 2014, the Ministry of Justice announces the creation of Central Flagrant Stations for the “online” trial of the arrested protesters (Carvalho, 2014), as well as the creation of a police corps of 10,000 officers from the National Force, to repress the demonstrations (Stochero, 2014). However, “progressive” (sic) bloggers launched a crude campaign of psychological warfare (announced by President Dilma in her speech at the end of the year2), in the tone of the military dictatorship, heirs of Nazi fascism: to protest against the corporate and elitist project and the corruption infusing the World Cup constructions means “to sabotage Brazil” (Guimarães, 2014). Which Brazil? The Brazil of the torture and disappearance of the builder Amarildo? Of the prisoners decapitated in a prison in Maranhao? Of the youth assassinated in the peripheries?! No. In June, the commands from the commanders lost sight of the north and the control of the ballast. The uprising against the increase in public transportation fares had already transformed into a tremendous exodus of the multitude, perhaps the first and most potent that has occurred in Brazil (Cava, 2013a). Even after the “decree of the plebs”, which made 1 “Governor of Rio to make pro-­PAC campaign in Rocinha”. Interview with Eduarda La Roque, Jornal Valor Econômico, November 1, 2013. 2 The passage in question is: “Therefore, we must always act in a productive and positive way, trying to find solutions and not amplify the problems. If some sectors, for whatever reason may be, instill distrust, especially unwarranted suspicion, this is very bad. The psychological war can inhibit investment and delay initiatives”. Full Statement available at

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governments across the country retreat from lowering bus fares, the struggles continued. The agenda of mega-­events transformed into an engine spreading protests, increasingly more massive and determined to resist and affirm the democratic right to dissent. The request for fair play pronounced by the FIFA President before the boos and cries at the inauguration of Brasilia’s stadium and the opening match of the Confederations Cup soon became the slogan of the multitudes. During the marches in Belo Horizonte and Rio de Janeiro, at each match the multitude extended an enormous banner with the following writing: “Unfair players: PM (Military Police) and the Government”. This time the repressive “liquidator” no longer roamed loose. The violent repression encountered strong resistance from the protesters. Each match turned into a field battle. The last of these happened in the finals, on June 30 in Rio de Janeiro, in a surreal climate of a state of siege. It was in this Rio demonstration that a portion of the youth who had been practicing resistance tactics in the demonstrations of June went on to explicitly call themselves a “black block tactic”. The multitude went into the desert, and Rio de Janeiro is the desert where this exodus was constituted. The departure for the desert is liberation, in other words, towards “a void of property-­identity-­security (bearing) towards the unprecedented and the encounter” (Mazzi, 2001: 8). The new people constituted within the exodus have “nothing in common, and precisely for having to share nothing of ownership, must base their entire existence on social ties […]: love is a desert flower” (ibid: 50).3 It was in Rio that the rushing river of the multitude went to the third bank, multiplying daily all types of demonstrations. In June, the countless struggles of resistance against forced removals of and in favelas, against the mega constructions and mega events, found their “kayrós”: the time of the event connected to the becoming-­minority of Brazil. The persistence of the future, in the daily multiplication of demonstrations permeated the months of July, August, and September until they receded in October. After the violent repression of the state and county public teachers in late September, on the following Monday, October 7 (7-­O), a multitude returned to the streets of Rio: over 100 thousand people in a demonstration of the left, which no longer had any of the ambiguities of June. The banners and posters demonstrated the revindications of the teachers of the municipal and state education systems, of the transport users 3 Mazzi also says: “It is this void of possession and love that the prophet calls all God. The Gospel summarize the biblical message from the desert when it says that love of God and love of one’s neighbor are one and the same, they are worth much more than all holocausts and sacrifices, and they depend on the law of the prophets” (2001: 50). My translation.

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(against the train concession schemes), of the favela residents against forced removals, and of the multitude of young people for “real democracy now” on behalf of Amarildo: builder, resident of the favela Rocinha tortured, killed and disappeared in the UPP headquarters on July 24. On October (7-­O), organizations and base collectives, unions and activists gathered in a multitudinous syncretism impossible to represent: a becoming-­ union of the multitude and a becoming-­multitude of the union. This hybrid multitude simultaneously showed that they were capable of unifying in the invention of new ways of practicing politics. The brutal repression of teachers that had occurred in the previous week was transformed into countless practices of direct action, by a multitude of young people that no one controls: young people determined to retaliate, and baffled by the democratic gap, in an exodus out of the terrorist double device that governs the poor: drug trafficking and the police and its false war constituted by corruption, torture and killing.4 The desert here is the field, Amarildo’s favela, the slave quarters of the black population. It is the desert of a God “rooted in suffering and the troubled processes of liberation” (Mazzi, op cit.: 88). In the words of Ernst Bloch, “suffering that wants to stop suffering, (from) the rebellious sphere of exodus and of reconciliation, of becoming-­other” (Bloch, 1978: 44). The exception is not the repression but democratic deepening. In this struggle, the young and the poor reaffirm the basic principles of politics, of democracy and of freedom. As mentioned by Hannah Arendt, it is said that the “individual in isolation is never free (and) can only be so when he enters the terrain of the polis and acts in it” (Arendt in Ludz, 1998: 102-­3). This means that the place of freedom “is never located within man […] but in the inter-­space that only appears when many come together and can only exist while being together” (ibid.). To be free, we need to be and act together in the polis, and being together implies the presupposition that freedom is equality, equality not as an application of some abstract criterion of justice, but justice as freedom, the constitution of freedom. In fact, the enslavement of women, indigenous populations, and the poor in Brazil persists due to the fact that they are not equal, and therefore not really free: “Isonomy does not mean that all are equal before the law or 4 The gap that opened from June to October is the kind that changes history and anthropology. However we remember that the poor live and survive in and by multiplications of micro gaps. For example, that of sports and, amongst them, the martial arts. In his book about his experience of the practice of boxing, Loïc Wacquant writes: “Delinquency and boxing exist in communicating vessels. It could be one or the other” and it is in this sense that “the boxing gym is opposed to the ghetto“ (Wacqaunt, 2000: 49; 58).

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that the law is equal for everyone, but in fact that they all have the same right to political activity” (ibid: 49). How much ironic commentary have we heard about the exaggerated horizontality of the movement? Now, building this horizontality is a necessary condition for giving content to freedom: To inter-­relate amongst equals in the limelight of the present moment (ibid: 56). Moreover, for the first time, the movement has been successful in showing that the horizon of democratic deepening is implied in the achievement of the right to politics, which the poor of the favelas, outskirts, and peripheries do not have. The exodus is the terrain of the redeeming of this right. Michael Walzer recalls that “redemption” is derived in Hebrew as well as in English from a term that means “to buy back”, in this case the freedom of a slave: “the Hebrew noun translated as deliverance (emancipation) derived from the verb “escape” ” (Walzer, 1986: 23). Behold the exodus as liberation, once again. The central axis of Rio’s exodus of the multitude is the deepening of democracy and is named Amarildo. Amarildo is the slave of contemporary slaves, and the fight on his behalf renews the quilombo exodus. But Amarildo is also the name of each one of the individual struggles that affirm themselves as a “collective machine of expression”, like the poem projected by the Projetação collective on the chic Leblon buildings, on the police stations where the demonstrators were arrested, or even on the Shock Troop police vans: “Amar é/ A Maré/ Amarildo (Love is/ The tide/ Amarildo)”.

The deadly routine of the law against democratic omission “Sublata justitia, quid sunt regna, nisi magna latrocinia Quia et latrocinia qui sunt, parva regna?” Saint Augustine The totalitarian media aim to support the repression, constructing an imaginary line that allows the power to surpass the threshold of legality, maintaining an appearance of democracy. It is the line that governs the favelas through sovereignty by means of terror, and the black population by means of imposing the “war on drug trafficking”. The repression will depend on the ability to transform this invented line into reality. The media and the power try to constitute a discursive and repressive field in which to concentrate the new militancy of the streets and networks. A first attempt of this kind was made in Rio de Janeiro on October 15. The dividing line between the “orderly” protester and the “vandal”, between the teacher and the black bloc took the form of the City Council “stairway”, transformed into a virtual concentration “Camp”. A mass of police applied the plan drawn up between the City Councils (of Rio and Brasília), and the newsrooms of this type

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of media, according to a typically Nazi logic: sitting on the staircase turned into a criteria for being “deported”, within the framework of a retaliation aimed at framing the protesters within the brand new law for the repression of “criminal organizations”.5 Rather, this was a “collective punishment”, just like that applied by the Nazis to the Jews or to those that orchestrated the resistance and who, as Primo Levi (who was a Jew and participated in the resistance) said, cannot be fair (Levi, 1986: 1139). Thus, the young people that occupied the City Council to fight for democracy, against the bus mafia, where arrested, ironically by means of the same Law aimed to combat the mafia. This is a biblical situation. The revolt of Job: “bad people rob the shepherds and their flocks, take away the orphan donkeys, and take the widow’s ox as mortgage, […] but God doesn’t hear their cry.” (Mazzi, op cit: 42). In the “sermon on the Good Thief ”, Father Vieira cites Saint Thomas: “[…] if the princes violently take that which is not owed to them, it is plundering and pillagery. Thus […] they commit a more serious sin than the thieves, as it is more dangerous and vulgar the damage with which they offend the public justice that they are the defenders of ” (Vieira, 2011: 496). What follows is the classical passage by Saint Augustine cited by Viera, saying that between the oppressive kingdoms and the thieves’ ditch there is only one difference: “that the kingdoms are big pillageries and the pillageries and robberies are small kingdoms” (ibid: 497).6 Padre Vieira’s conclusions are very relevant in

5 Law n.º 12.850/2013, of August 2, 2013. Available at About the enforcement of this law, discussion in further detail in the article by lawyers Edward Baker and Natalia Damázio: “A segurança nacional e o estilingue” (“National Security and the catapult”), further along in this book. According to the President of the Human Rights Committee of OAB, Wadih Damous, the application of this law to the ­protesters in October was “aberrant”: 6 The sermon continues: “The thief who steals to eat, does not go, nor lead to hell; those who not only go but lead, what I am dealing with are other kinds of thieves, of a larger caliber and of a higher sphere, who under the same name and the same predicament, distinguishes nicely St. Basil the Great: Non est intelligendum fures esse solum bursarum incisores, vel latrocinantes in balneis; sed et qui duces legionum statuti, vel qui commisso sibi regimine civitatum, aut gentium, hoc quidem furtim tollunt, hoc vero vi et publice exigunt: Thieves are not only those, says the saint, that snatch purses or lurk while others bathe, to steal their clothes: the thieves who most properly and worthily deserve this title are those whom the kings commission armies and legions, or the government of the provinces, or the administration of cities, which already in the morning, already with force, rob and plunder the people. -­The other thieves rob

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today’s kingdom of Sergio Cabral (Rio de Janeiro’s governor): “There is, in that which appears to be justice, a serious deception, neither the punished, nor the punisher frees themselves from eternal condemnation”. However, the neutrality of the Jesuits remains inferior to the inequity of the actual situation. Thus the delegitimized power puts these potent and innocent young people on trial under the Law of Organized Criminals, by means of extralegal decisions; in other words, administrative decisions made by the executives of Sergio Cabral, by the heads of the Secretary of Security. Activated ad hoc, not to correct the facts, but to “punish” the protesters. Not to arrest them for what they did, but for whom they are. In this context, the federal government openly declared, through the Minister of Justice, that they wanted to do the same, transforming the extralegal practices of Rio de Janeiro’s government into federal law. The Brazil of Dilma and Lula manages the feat of taking political prisoners, not in order to defend who knows what type of “national project”… but in order for FIFA and the contractors to increase their profits in the World Cup and the Olympic games; as well as to sell the strategic oil reserves to the Chinese: these are the mysteries of the project of the nation and its pompous State politics. These new repressive acts show us and confirm the grave political and theoretical limits of juridical formalism that characterize many of the sectors of the left wing – from the moderate to the more radical. It is an illusion that change is authorized by Law and by the state politics that are responsible for implementing the project of a nation. There is no nation, and even less so is there a project. What there is, in fact, is a State that has a skull head as the symbol of its local “elite squad”. A State that creates an “anything goes” scenario for the poor, anchored in the juridical-­ legal system. History – and particularly the history of law – teaches us that the tradition of liberalism blends with that of socialism in the defense and reassertion of juridical absolutism against rights. Liberalism and “socialism” share the same “totalitarianism”, which is born from the “constricting embrace of the State” of law, which “[…] naturally belongs to society, because it is an insuppressible dimension with which society lives its history” (Grossi, 2006: 100). Thus, “civil society (continues) to be a depository for legal production only in the fable-­fiction of indirect democracy proclaimed by the obsessive apology in favor of the parliamentary people: these rob cities and kingdoms; the others steal at their own risk: these without fear or danger; the others steal and are hanged: these steal and hang. Diogenes, who saw everything with a sharper eye than other men, saw a large troop of ministers of justice lead thieves to be hanged, and began shouting: -­There go the big thieves to hang the little ones. -­Blissful Greece, which had such a preacher!”

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system” (ibid: 127; my emphasis). The closest ally of this absolutism of the Law is formalism. In other words, the “creation of a castle of intellectually evidential and compelling forms, but deprived of a corresponding match in the effectiveness of historical forces” (ibid: 37). It is the “legalist formalism, in other words, the law constructed as a formal dimension founded not on facts, but on the law as appropriating and acting as the sole interpreter of the facts” (ibid: 102) that prevails in Brazil (and in Latin America in general). Thus, “the positivist law unfolds in its entirety in procedures that, like empty containers, are capable of hosting any content. The validity no longer comes from the content that sustains and justifies a norm, but from the compliance with the procedures specific to each one of the systems” (Irti & Severino in Grossi, ibid: 115). Paolo Grossi emphasizes, “the truth of law cannot be handed over and reduced to an authoritarian text of paper” for it is in the “carnality of the law, immersed in life, source of life itself, directed towards life” that it is necessary to think, in other words: “look beyond formal law (and) search for those Roots that always, whether one wants it or not, reach the hidden stratum of values” (ibid: 117). This means that the “achievements” in terms of rights, are “made against the Law (sometimes), despite the Law, or between the loopholes of the Law (most often), and certainly seldom according to the Law, jurisprudence, science and formalism” (ibid: 131; my emphasis). Therefore, there are two paths towards the production of law: one in which the “production of norms occurs from the laws and due to the potestative dimension of a dead law (or juridical absolutism)”; the other is the “production of norms within social life (that put) in order a living and vivacious law” (Grossi, 2006b: 203-­4). We are dealing with the Spinozian oppositions of potestas vs. potentia, and thus the opposition between law (lex) and right (jus). “Potency” liberates, since it is the living force that produces values, justice. Justice only exists as a process constituted by potency: exactly in the terms that Michel Foucault defined as opposed to Noam Chomsky. The struggle is not for justice, but justice is the struggle itself: without a struggle or when the struggle is defeated, there is no justice, but injustice. We no longer need to think about the positivism (of power), but the positivity of potency. Up against the positivity of potency, the absolutism of the Law is fully involved in the dynamics of reproduction -­as well as contractuality -­of sovereignty, in other words, in the transfer of rights of citizens to the sovereign (Negri, 1981). The law is no longer seen to be transcendent and an abstract machine, it only exists in the immanence of the mechanic agency of justice (Deleuze & Guattari, 1975: 93). The true change only comes from the constituent power, from the active renewal of the relationship of the law with its source: the living voice of the people. It is when that source is alive that the force of the Law replaces the Law of Force. This

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is why the poor, the source of the Law, have no voice in Brazil. Law enforcement appears as the face of the Brazilian police: the most deadly in the world! In Brazil, the law is – immediately – a Law of Force, and justice is – openly – an “injustice”. The laws of the Big House (where the masters live) are enforced by the task master in the slave quarters. In Brazil, the Law functions openly as a Law of Force (of the strongest), and this is because the sovereign’s power (the State) over the poor population is unlimited: “When a sovereign kills and robs his subjects, kidnaps girls etc., says Spinoza, the subjugation turns into outrage, the civil state turns into a state of hostility” (Spinoza, 2011: 74). Sovereignty implies reducing the many to One through the mechanism of transcendence, and based on this, on the monopoly of force by the Leviathan, and thus of a power founded upon fear. Democracy and consensus imply the contrary, the limitation of the state power (of the sovereign). In other words, the power of the State must be limited, and that of the multitude needs to be the most absolute possible, i.e. the most democratic. The best constitution of any form of government is the peace and security of living. Spinoza continued: It is certain that rebellions, wars, and contempt for or violation of the laws are to be attributed not so much to the wickedness of subjects as to the faulty organization of the state. […] So if wickedness is more prevalent and wrong doing more common in one commonwealth than in another, one can be sure that this is because the former has not done enough to promote harmony and has not framed its laws with sufficient forethought […] (ibid).

It seems as if Spinoza is talking about neo-­slavery in Brazil where we live. These are prophetic words: “a civilian state that lives in constant fear of war, in continuous violation of laws, does not differ much from the state of nature in which each individual lives…in constant danger of one’s life” (ibid.). What does it mean to say, “peace is not the absence of war, but the virtue that rises from the fortress of the soul” (ibid: 81)? There is only peace when there is no longer fear, but confidence and trust. In the biblical sense of exodus, we can say that there is peace when an alliance prevails, a new alliance. The City of God, as thought of by Saint Augustine, is constituted precisely “in Love of one’s neighbor and not in fear of him” (Arendt, 1996: 71). Is the “left” stupid for believing in the Law and the liberal principle (Hobbsien) of the State monopoly of the use of force? This is not stupidity, but the crisis of the actual notion of the left. What remains, even for the opposition, is an apparatus, and the apparatus is structurally state-­owned. Only think in accordance with the State, or in other words, “don’t think” or – at best– “no longer think”.

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On October 15, the “boys” went to prison. The teacher’s strike was normalized. The auction to deliver the oil reserves took place with the protection of the National Force and the Army. Ultimately, the (unjust) “justice” showed its face. The city could return to being wonderful. “One Rio” as the mayor says: that of the contractors, the bus companies, the main train company, and… naturally of the newspaper Globo, of the public museums given to the Robert Marinho Foundation (Szaniecki & Silva, 2010). Ultimately, a Rio where peace kills! The Rio of political gangsterism with its conditions of neo-­slavery, with this infamous mixture of “state capitalism” and of “crony” networks, can smile again cynically, despite being as bankrupt as the Eike Batista companies. But this did not happen this time! The suffering inflicted on the militants, activists and protesters in general was only temporary, and even the judiciary system was able to extend its cynicism and endorse it. Indeed, terror functions with full intensity in the favelas, and its pedagogy was applied to the political prisoners of October 15, as reported by Paulo Roberto de Abreu Bruno, a professor from ENSP-­Fiocruz who was detained in that police assault.7 But this terror has difficulties in applying itself in the streets, as the Executive Power would have liked to do, to defend its private interests. It is in this gap that the June movement constituted innovation during the months of Rio’s democratic uprising. However, the road of repression seems to be the path that those in power want to follow, even at the federal level. The intention of the power is in reality to impose its totalitarian will, as they did before June. Will they achieve this? We do not know what the affects of this pressure will be, but it seems that the return to a repressive horizon appears more as a necessity than as an option. The necessity has two determinants: in the first place, those in power and their ways of functioning do not have a chance to initiate a serious dialogue in Rio de Janeiro, except as the base of a general retreat that is not permittable; secondly, we are witnessing the evolution of a series of macroeconomic indicators (high inflation and high interest rates), which will subsequently complicate the buying power of the poor and the lower middle-­classes. In Rio, the mayor has already announced the rise in transport fares in early 2014. But on December 20, the multitude returned to the streets, occupied the staircase of the State Council (ALERJ), and demonstrated that the June decree about transport fares remains in effect.

7 Interview by André Antunes and Cátia Guimarães, on November 25, 2013 – Escola Politécnica de Saúde Joaquim Venâncio (EPSJV/Fiocruz). Available at

Copyright © 2015. Peter Lang GmbH, Internationaler Verlag der Wissenschaften. All rights reserved.

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During these months, particularly in December, but also already in January of 2014, we witnessed the protests in the peripheries and in the metropolitan region of Rio de Janiero, as a result of the floods, the riots against the stalled trains and – in São Paulo – the social phenomenon of “rolezinhos”, of thousands of youth gathering in shopping centers.8 The multitude continues to invite itself to the party and, this time, celebrates Christmas and New Years within the democratic gap. In Rio, the multitude surely went to the third bank. Up until now – early 2014, after seven months of struggles – the repressive fury has failed to achieve significant results. The multitude of June to October did not allow itself to be encapsulated and fixed in stereotypes and simplifications. Of course, we are just at the beginning of a repressive cycle that the State is beginning to try out. But the effectiveness of the judgement of the state failed to meet a minimum of legitimacy. Meanwhile, the repression did not work because the multitude remained the multitude: a multiplicity of singularities that – cooperating among themselves – remain as such, in other words, radically and horizontally democratic.

Disobedience and resistance The basis for freedom and peace is not the Law, but rights; not obedience but disobedience. The following is the formula of Minister Dietrich Bonheoffer: “recognition of the need for free and responsible acts, even if it must be in opposition to the entrusted task”. Primo Levi said that one cannot admit that the pressure from the State to obey is irresistible, while at the same time, the victims are those incapable of resisting as a result of the mechanisms of fragmentation and individualization applied by power (Levi, op cit: 1010). In his letters written from the prison of the Nazi army between 1943 and 1945, the German Protestant Minister, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, makes a sad reflection about the “German virtue of obedience”. He says that obedience “is not based on servile fear but on freely consented trust”. But the “German” had not anticipated that his “willingness to obedience could be abused for the sake of evil” (ibid: 28). Shortly after his liberation, in the book dedicated to the period spent in the Soviet camps, Primo Levi made an elaborate comparison between the German and the Russian subjects. The Russian soldiers:

8 See the excellent article by Bruno Cava (2013b). The theme is reintroduced in the article “The city of the plague and its carnivals”, later in this book. Politics of Dissent, edited by Jørgensen, Martin Bak, and Agustín, Óscar García, Peter Lang GmbH, Internationaler Verlag der Wissenschaften, 2015. ProQuest Ebook Central, http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/nyulibrary-ebooks/detail.action?docID=2064195. Created from nyulibrary-ebooks on 2020-07-07 02:31:19.

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[…]were joyful, sad and tired, appreciated the food and wine, like Ulysses’ comrades, after having harbored the ships. However, in the unkempt and anarchic appearance, it was easy to see them, in each of their rough and frank faces, the good soldiers of the Red Army, the courageous men of old and new Russia, gentle in moments of peace and atrocious in war, with a strong inner discipline born from concord, from mutual love and love for their motherland; a greater discipline, precisely because it’s from within, than that of the mechanic and servile discipline of the Germans (ibid: 249).

Primo Levi concluded this reflection with even more energy: “It was easy living amongst them, because that (the “free” discipline of the Russians) and not this (the “servile” discipline of the Germans) prevailed in the end” (Levi, 1997[1963]: 250; my emphasis). Although Bonhoeffer initially says that “German” discipline is not servile, it is clear that the two resistant inmates converge on problematizing the notion of discipline and show us not just the moral importance of disobedience, but also its potent dimension. Bonhoeffer speaks about the need, in the spirit of Foucault, of a courage of truth: “a civic courage that is only born from the free responsibility of free men”, which implies the responsibility of action, a concrete and living responsibility (ibid: 29-­31). We now return to Primo Levi’s story about the Russian soldiers. Before his remarks about the two types of discipline, Primo Levi writes one beautiful page about the Red Army’s way of functioning: The entire caravan lived in great harmony, without schedules or rules, adjacent to the camp, camped on the sites of an abandoned school. The only one that took care of us was the foreman […] all of their hierarchic relations were indecipherable: they related amongst themselves in the majority of cases in a friendly manner, like a close provisional family, without militarist formalisms; sometimes furious fights broke out and exchanges of punches, even among soldiers and officers, but they ended without disciplinary consequences and without rancor, as if nothing had happened (ibid: 249).

Nevertheless, within the Red Army, there were living elements of the October Revolution. It is this sense of a radically democratic constituent power that Levi attributed to victory (and to his liberation). From the perspective of Primo Levi, the Soviet victory was not the fruit of the rational and crazy discipline of German Nazism, but of a very potent chaos of something very much alive and – despite the Stalinist terror – still revolutionary: It was worth it for someone to have spent some time at the train station…merely to watch the extraordinary spectacle of the Red Army in repatriation: a spectacle that was both coral and solemn like a biblical migration, and as wandering and multicolored as the displacement of a circus[…] (ibid: 271).

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Levi was dazzled by the “Soviet Union […] gigantic country that in its heart harbors gigantic ferments – amongst them, a Homeric capacity for joy, a primordial vitality, a primitive pagan talent for demonstrations, holidays, coral binges” (ibid: 278). Bakhtin was also Russian and was, on the one hand, “the genius of destruction, of counter creation” that had implemented a “‘Germanically’ meticoulous devastation and plunder” (ibid: 312). And we could add: meticulously racist like the Brazilian neo-­slave regime. On the other hand: [T]his land without boundaries, these fields and woods that have seen the battle and to which we owe our salvation, those authentic horizons, these vigorous people who are lovers of life, were in our hearts, had penetrated us…glorious and vivid images of an exceptional season of our existence (ibid: 368).

Within the German instrumental rationality, Primo Levi sees the danger of a power disembodied from an irrational, extra-­human, extra-­natural reason, outside man (ibid: 1171). The danger, he says, is obedience: they are the ordinary men, employees who perform and obey without question, like Eichmann, the French military in Argelia, or the U.S. military in Vietnam (ibid: 198). The danger is this force that should protect man and has turned – as Hannah Arendt said – against life itself.

The shame of being a man Thus, in October 2013 in São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro, the constituted powers decided, at the federal level, to opt for repression. In São Paulo, the National Security Act was drafted, attempting to revive the cadaver of the old dictatorship. In Rio de Janeiro, through local proverbial cunning, they waited for the presidential approval of the newest repressive tool to protect the “new dictatorship“: consensual totalitarianism, which is corrupt and ultraconservative, constituting Rio’s appearance of a federal government pact of governability. After five months of struggles and defeats of the power system, the newspaper O Globo – with the consent of all of Rio de Janiero’s and all the national politicians – was finally able to re-­celebrate – as usual – the State prowess. The following is a headline from October 17: “the most severe Law (sic) sends 70 vandals to prison“. Clearly, O Globo does not allow itself to be driven by the sentimentalities that a Law (as “severe” as it may be) should respect in order to be… Law. Why go to the trouble of at least respecting the form, and writing what any “normal”, “liberal” newspaper would write. In other words, that the vandals are “suspects”?! For O Globo, doubt only benefits the power, and hence the article opened with this shameful headline: “At the end of the protests, shots from a firearm were fired, yet the police are still trying to identify the perpetrators” (when there are many videos

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circulating showing the Military Police shooting and one of the wounded – on that same first page – is a protester). But the press of Rio’s elite have a strong stomach: they did the same thing with Amarildo. They always do this, every day, to those not covered by the Law and participating in “acts of resistance”.9 They have this in their DNA, centuries of slavery have passed. The local Rio and Brazilian elite are profoundly enslavers. The words written in the newsrooms of these newspapers are, as said by Police Chief Orlando Zaccone, more lethal than a rifle bullet. This elite makes us ashamed to be men! Primo Levi narrates the surreal atmosphere of the Nazi defeat in Auschwitz, “the earth trembles night and day due to the Soviet artillery, the Russians are arriving and – with the bureaucratic determination that impressed Hannah Arendt while attending the trial of Adolf Eichmann in Tel Aviv – the SS hanged an inmate who had participated in a rare act of resistance. The death sentence occurs – as always –­in front of all the other inmates. The man who will die today participated somehow in the revolt.” Says Primo Levi and continues, “All […] heard the cry of the man who was going to die; this cry […] reached, deep into each one of us, the core of our essence as man: -­ Kamaraden, ich bin der Letzte! (Comrades, I am the last!). The narrative reaches its tragic culmination. The inmates plunge into the worst conditions,” that of helplessness, shame of the inability to resist and fight, “I would like to be able to tell you that amongst us, vile herd, arose a voice, a whisper, a sign of assent, but no, there was nothing”. Primo Levi explains his despair, “[…] you, Germans succeeded. Here we are, docile beneath your gaze; you have nothing more to fear. Neither acts of revolt, nor words that challenge, nor a gaze of judgment” (Levi, op cit: 152-­3). The oppression reached its perfection: “[…] now our shame oppresses us”.10 In that same month of April 1945, in another death camp, another convict was hanged. This time, it was a Protestant minister, a member of the Prussian high bourgeoisie, who had participated in the resistance against Nazism (the failed attack on Hitler). The last words of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, shrouded by the madness of the regime and the din of the Russian artillery, were, “This is the 9 In the moment that we are writing, the ruling power appears in its routine: turmoil in the favela Manguinhos after the death of a 16-­year-­old at the hands of UPP officers. A video shows PMs (Military Police) attacking, using both less lethal and lethal weapons:

10 Primo Levi experiences a biblical situation, that in which Moses accompanies an Egyptian beating a Hebrew and, given the fact that no one amongst the Hebrews rebels, he himself kills the Egyptian (see Walzer, op cit: 35-­6).

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end, for me the beginning of life” (Mazzi, op cit: 46). His letters, written in the military prison of Tegel, became the roots of a new Christianity, precisely that of the exodus, of the liberation theology, of “living and acting as if God did not exist” (ibid.). He wrote, “It is not the religious that makes the Christian, but his participation in the suffering of God in life on earth” (Bonhoeffer, 2006: 433). What is at the core is the immanence, life: “Jesus does not call for a new religion, but for life” (ibid: 434). A new exodus, wrote Ernest Bloch, “eschatological and revolutionary, the advent of God[…]in man” (Bloch, 1978[1968]: 171). In the attempts of the prophets and St. Augustine, or of João Guimarães Rosa, the breach is to think of oneself as a theodicy without original sin: “evil is the condition of a scarcity of the divine” (ibid: 151) and we should say, of our failure to generate good. Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari said, “We lack resistance to the present” (1991: 104). Shame is to be indifferent to be “silent witnesses of evil deeds“ (in Bonhoeffer, op cit: 39). It is not malice, but the “weakness of the majority who deface and degrade human dignity” (ibid: 456). Thus, Bonhoeffer wrote, “redemption myths arise from human experiences of the limits of one’s existence, but Christ grabbed hold of a man at the center of his life” (ibid: 405). It was therefore in the extreme situation of Auschwitz that some inmates resisted. Not only the person who was hanged in front of Primo Levi, but also members of the Sonderkommando who – in August of 1944 – took great risks to communicate and convey the images of the furnaces; images that are, as Didi-­Huberman said referring to Jean-­Paul Sartre, acts: the very acts of resistance (Didi-­Huberman, 2003: 143). The shame of being a man is the shame of this man that does not revolt. It is this shame that the terror of the state reproduces daily in the slave quarters – which are the favelas and all the peripheries and outskirts. This is our shame: but it is the elite, its police and its press, that are responsible for the victims. We should be ashamed before the victims, ashamed of our silence, of the fear that ravages our freedom, which destroys us as men. This shame is renewed every day in the favelas that are reduced to slave quarters, obligating the family and friends of Amarildo and Douglas to bow their heads before their assassins. In the biblical tradition, to be “fair” means to oppose the oppression. In other words, the “task of the righteous man (is) to make war with all types of undeserved privilege” (Levi, 1986: 1021). Taking advantage of the crack opened in June, young people rebelled precisely against this shame. “If there is no other man, try to be yourself a man”.11 The masked youth who took on the name of Amarildo are fighting for him to be the last: the last to be forgotten within the terrible normalization of a power founded 11 Attributed to Walzer a Hillel, based on Nehama Leibowitz, Studies in Shemot (1981).

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on the terror against poor people. It is difficult for him to be the last because since then, the list is immense. But the struggle for the Amarildos is still alive. The renewal of the struggle against contemporary forms of slavery is also the best way to fight against corruption: oppression goes hand in hand with corruption.

The persistence of the fireflies: the dance of the angels The paradigm of the exodus proposes the pursuit of new lights, beyond those homogenous lights that hurt our eyes and prevent us from distinguishing the “signs of the times”, “the uncertain traces capable of giving meaning to new paths” (Mazzi, 2001: 7). Commenting on Pier Paolo Pasolini’s12 reflections on the appearance and death of “delle lucciole”, Didi-­Huberman writes: “There are moments of exception in which human beings become fireflies -­luminescent beings, dancing, erratic, elusive and resistant as such […]” (Didi-­Huberman, 2009: 19; my emphasis).13 The masked youth who induced the June wind that keeps blowing over Brazil, from autumn that turned into spring, are fireflies, and their struggles are like a dance that happens “in the darkness”. In other words, their struggles are against the reign of terror that the state uses to control the poor people in Brazil. A “dance of desire creating community” (ibid.; my emphasis). Against the oppressive light of the projectors and against that all-­homologous dark night that prevents us from distinguishing the “signs of the times”. These are the “uncertain traces” (Mazzi, ibid.) and the minimal sign of the “coming of a new season” (ibid: 81) of constitutive events. There is no denying that the black bloc tactic was one of the great inventions of the June movement, in its exodus to the third bank of (R)io. The urban encampments, the demonstrations in Guanabara Palace, the resistance of the teachers, the riots of train passengers of the SuperVia (a railway company) or of the bus passengers of the BRT buses, and the protests against the oil auction – all these moments were taken on as important allies to the “front line”, which invented the possibility of resisting the violence of repression, daring to know but also knowing to dare. The “truth” about the heinous system of

12 Pier Paolo Pasolini wrote a letter to a friend from adolescence speaking about the appearance of the fireflies (Lucciole on February 1, 1941). On February 1, 1975, he wrote a column in the newspaper Corriere della Sera (“L’ articolo delle lucciole”), where he talks about “the death of the fireflies” as the tragedy of a civilization of consumption and the disappearance of the “poor”. 13 Georges Didi-­Huberman is talking about fireflies and of Pier Paolo Pasolini’s Survivance des lucioles.

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power articulated itself with the “courage” to be spoken: the courage of truth, as Foucault wrote in his last course, but also as Minister Dietrich Bonhoeffer said in his letters from the prison. To resist: this was an event within the event. Whether you try to criminalize it or control it, no one can say that they “know” its dynamics. Because, “to know about fireflies, it is necessary to see them in their present moment of survival: see them dance lively in the heart of the night […]” (Didi-­Huberman, op cit: 43). The boys are potent, intelligent, pure, and as a result of this they are also naive. They have the potency, purity and naivety of the poor and the young. Without that no one fights! Hence, the change never came and will never come from the old, because something in them has already died. This is because they already made a motive for “status” and for State from their experience. “When age will impose its rhythm on the game, the ex-­youth limps, wobbles and realizes that the field in the second half is twice the size it was in the first”. By way of contrast, “for those who are young, the hurricane is a breeze” (Tavares, 2013). Perhaps Thomas Jefferson thought of this when he said that the “spirit of resistance to government […] must always remain alive. It will often be exercised when wrong, but better so then not to be exercised at all. I like a little rebellion now and then. It is like a storm in the atmosphere” (2007: 30). Youth is not a question of age, but of life and freedom! Hélio Oiticica said that to dress was an art of fighting articulated through watching, but beyond it. Likewise, Braulio Tavares says that it is necessary to dress up “for the literary battle” (sneakers, jeans and t-­shirt) and thus see that “the noisiness of the youth is not excessive in volume on their part” but due to the “deafness of the world. It is the world that upon getting older, becomes deafer” (ibid). Young people are potent because they already have the experience of exploitation and injustice within them, from their families and friends. In the peripheries, favelas and outskirts where they live or where their friends live, where the face of power is the “skull head” of the elite squad. The young population already know that “hell is not something to fear in the future, but it is already present” (Walter Benjamin, in Mosès, 1992: 166). Young people are naive because they lack the experience of “politics.” But if they had it, they would not have fought with the same vigour that we saw in those nearly five months. The same terrible political experience (including torture) that made out of the fighter – President Dilma –­a sad bureaucrat and powerless advocate of the rationality of exploitation, which she curiously named “engineer”.14 All this

14 We are referring to the incredible statements in “‘Advogado é custo, engenheiro é produtividade’, diz Dilma Rousseff em Nova York”. IHU online, September 8, 2013.

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occured in the name of a vague project that is, at best, an obsolete “state capitalism”, while at worst (and more likely), it is the reproduction of a capitalism of gangs and cronyism that we have here in Rio. Young people are potent because they are angels, even in the Benjaminian terms of “a meeting of the times, a collision between an active present and its reminiscent past,” from that moment when “The Then and the Now come together into free constellations filled with future” (Didi-­Huberman, op cit: 52). They are “what appear despite everything, as reminiscent novelty, as innocent novelty” (ibid: 55). Angels that through their aesthetics and poetics say that “truth is beautiful”: poetics of beautiful bodies. New angels that erupt in history and define its meaning, from its ruptures and not from its deterministic “evolution” (Mosès, olp cit: 116). They rescue the history of the defeated from oblivion, of the Amarildos, of the Douglases15, of the Paulo Robertos16 and everyone else. In the dance of the fireflies, time appears as an ethical decision: a rupture that opens up history to “a multiplicity of possible futures” (ibid: 23). “What the Angel wants is happiness: the conflict in which lies the ecstasy of the unique, new, not yet lived and that other happiness, that of restarting, of reencounters […]” (ibid: 116). Young people are naive. In the same way as the Parisian revolutionaries of July 1871 thought that by firing at the wall clocks they could stop the time of the machines and manufacturing17, today they think about destroying the sieve of finance, attacking the ATM machines of banks. They possess the same naivety as the current president when facing her torturers, those who continue in power, torturing and killing the poor! But despite and because of this naivety, the young Available at: 15 Douglas Rodrigues, 17, murdered in the northern district of Sao Paulo, on October 27, whose last words to the PM that killed him were “Why did you shoot me?”. The murder sparked a riot that burned buses and trucks, interrupting the highway Fernão Dias for several hours, until the police brutality closed off the protests with dozens of arrests. 16 Paulo Roberto, 18, died of asphyxiation after a police search in Manguinhos, a “pacified” favela of Rio, on Oct. 17. The murder also triggered an uprising that attacked the UPP (Pacification Police Unit) and threw stones at police vehicles. As part of the reaction of the police, a teenager was hit by lethal ammunition. 17 Walter Benjamin recounts the episode in his “Thesis on the Philosophy of History” (1992). The revolution of 1830 in France was marked by the emergence of harsh labour struggles over working hours: the objective of the workers who faced the National Guard, defeated in Paris, was to fix the workday to 12 hours (Duby, 1970).

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people –­and particularly those who resisted in the demonstrations – knew how to bring the fight into the terrain of aesthetics and language, of a politics that turns into poetics: renewing the primordial act of verbal invention, by matching the word and the thing named: Amarildo! A return to the original that occurs by means of the creation of the new. The young are angels and their divine language is the creator of another reality. They fight for new, radically horizontal institutions without leaders: they claim that power must be diffused amongst the people, and not exclusive to a boss. Thus, they renew Korah’s rebellion in the Book of Numbers, that which happens in the desert18: “The whole assembly is holy and the Lord is in the midst of the multitude that composes it” (Mazzi, op cit: 69). According to Hannah Arendt, “It is only in the freedom to speak with one another that the world which we speak about is born”. In other words, freedom is that same thing which “goes ahead and begins something new and unheard of, i.e. to relate with many […] is the meaning and content of politics itself ”. Hannah concluded, “In this sense, politics and freedom are identical” (op cit: 60).

Bibliography Arendt, Hannah (1996) Love and Saint Augustine. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Benjamin, Walter (1992) Sobre Arte, Técnica, Linguagem e Política Lisboa: Relógio d’Água. Bloch, Ernst (1978[1968]) L’Athéisme dans le christianisme. Paris: Gallimard. Bonhoeffer, Dietrich (2006) Labor et Fides. Genebra. Carvalho, Jailton de (2014) “Demonstrations will have Central de Flagrância, says Secretary of Judicial Reform”. Globo.com, January 1, 2014. Available at . Cava, Bruno (2013a) The multitude went into the desert; the demonstrations in Brazil in 2013. São Paulo: AnnaBlume. Cava, Bruno (2013b) “Rolezinho is affirmative action against racism”. Blog Quadrado dos loucos, December 16, 2013, at . Deleuze, Gilles & Guattari, Felix (1991) Qu’est-­ce que la philosophie. Paris: Minuit.

18 Bәmidbar, “in the desert [to]” is the fourth book of the bible.

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Deleuze, Gilles & Guattari, Felix (1975) Kafka. Paris: Minuit. Didi-­Huberman Georges (2003) Images malgré tout. Paris: Minuit. Duby, George (1970) Histoire de la France. Paris: Larousse. Folha de São Paulo (2013) “‘Black blocs’ agem com inspiração fascista, diz filósofa a PMs do Rio.” 27th of August. Available at < http://www1.folha.uol.com.br/ fsp/poder/126068-­black-­blocs-­agem-­com-­inspiracao-­fascista-­diz-­filosofa-­a-­ pms-­do-­rio.shtml> Grossi, Paolo (2006a) História da Propriedade e Outros Ensaios, Tradução de Luiz Ernani Fritoli e Ricardo Marcelo Fonseca. Rio de Janeiro: Renovar. Grossi, Paolo (2006b) Societá, diritto, Stato, Giuffrè. Milano. Guimarães, Eduardo (2014) “How to respond to the sabotage of the World Cup”. Blog da Cidadania, January 9, 2014. Available at . Jefferson, Thomas (2007) A declaração de independência (introduction by Michael Hardt). London-­New York: Verso. Leibowitz, Nehama (1981) Studies in Shemot. Jerusalem. Levi, Primo (1988[1958]) É isto um homem? (1958), translated by Luigi Del Re. Rio de Janeiro: Rocco. Levi, Primo (1986) I Sommersi e i salvati, Opere, II. Tourim: Einaudi. Levi, Primo (1963) La tregua, Opere I. Torino: Einaudi. Ludz, Úrsula (1998) O que é a Política?, translated by Reinaldo Guarany. Rio de Janeiro: Bertrand Brasil. Mazzi, Enzo (2001) La forza dell’esodo. Roma: Il Manifesto. Mosès, Stéphane (1992) L’Ange de l’histoire. Rosenzweig, Benajmin, Scholem. Paris: Seuil. Negri, Antonio (1981) L’anomalia selvaggia. Saggio su potere e potenza in Baruch Spinoza. Milano: Feltrinelli. Savian Filho, Juvenal (2013) “Pela responsabilidade intelectual e política. Entrevista com Marilena Chaui.” Cult, 182. Available at: < http://revistacult.uol. com.br/home/2013/08/pela-­responsabilidade-­intelectual-­e-­politica/>. Spinoza, Baruch (2011) Trattato Politico. Firenze: ETS. Stochero, Tahiane (2014) “Government creates a shock squad of 10,000 men for the protests of the World Cup”. G1, January 3, 2014. Available at . Szaniecki, Barbara & Silva, Gerardo (2014) “Two Projects for a city of knowledge” Outras Palavras, September 28, 2010. Available at . Tavares, Bráulio (2013) “Black blocs”. Blog Mundo Fantasmo, October 18, 2013. Available at: Vieira, Antonio (2011) Sermons of Father Vieira. São Paulo: Penguin. Wacquant, Loïc (2000) Corps et âme: carnets ethnographiques d’un apprenti boxeur. Marseille: Agone. Walzer, Michael (1985) Exodus and Revolution. Milano: Feltrinelli.

Yavuz Yıldırım

Social Movements in Turkey: Changing Dynamics since 1968 Abstract The chapter provides a historical perspective on the role of civil society and social movements in Turkey. Discussing with the British and American social movement literature it is argued that these do not easily apply to the Turkish case, due to the particularity of the Turkish civil society and political culture. Historically, Turkish movements have not been independent of the state and rarely organised by grass-­ root movements generally, but rather institutionalised and state-­related in their struggle for power. Yet, the recent uprisings in Gezi Park and elsewhere in Istanbul show a new development in the role and potential for social and political change in the Turkish context.

Introduction Social movements generally are not specific research fields in Turkey, they are more often analyzed together with other concepts. Terms used in European or American literature for social movements have not a wide use among Turkish academics. This is because the classical concepts of social theory, such as civil society, class, revolution etc. do not match with Turkish experience in practical terms. As a country that is positioned between the West and East, Turkey has many sociological dilemmas. It can be stated that the main reason for this gap is the statesociety relationship in Turkey. A top-­down relation and the supreme role of the state are the essence of the established political system. The elites and state-­bureaucracy formalize the abstract concept of the state as a sacred thing. “The constant conflict between the state-­elites and political elites” has shaped the political identity (Kadıoğlu, 1998: 189). The rule of law is also restricted by the notion of “necessities of the state” or in other words for “the survival of the state” that is decided by the top authorities. On this issue the state is the supreme authority. The reason for this is that the state has been shaped by the Kemalist discourse (Çelik, 2000) which was conducted after the death of founder Mustafa Kemal Ataturk. The Turkish revolution, according to Kemalists, was different from socialist ones or liberal free-­market economies, and to save its secular structure all socialist and Islamist tendencies were outlawed. “The state valued

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in its own right, is relatively autonomous from society” and there is a suspicion of pluralistic ideas (Özbudun, 2000: 128-­129). It is also similar to a civil society concept that is not constructed by bottom-­to-­top, but again top-­to-­bottom and state-­oriented. Because of the excessive importance of saving the state, all critical or opposition bodies were seen as suspicious. Non-­governmental organizations and trade unions are strictly under the control of the state and lots of them have organic relationships with the public authorities. The workers unions are not traditionally strong in Turkish history, after 1960s the revolution of progressive unions was established but in particular, after 1990s the unions of public employee figures took the opposition line much more than worker ones. The debates over democracy and civil society concepts in a critical framework do not have a big heritage. In this context Turkish movements are labeled as evil or illegal, against the interests of the state, so they are rarely organized by grassroot action, but instead, appear in relation to formal institutions. So the studies that focus on social movements specifically are not common in Turkish literature. The concept of social movements and their analysis began to become popular towards the end of 1990s. The main aim of this study is to analyze the evolution of Turkish social movements since 1968, an important year in social movement analyses all over the world, especially focusing on their changing dynamics in recent years. In order to achieve this aim, first the lack of analysis of Turkish movements and the concepts of social movement approaches will be underlined. Then the historical transformation of the social movements in Turkey will be summarized in general and then the big steps made in Turkish movements in 2000s will be analyzed in connection with the alter-­globalization movements. Some crucial movements like Tekel and Gezi Park resistance will be focused on. The study will not make in-­depth analysis of Turkish political history and social movement approaches, there already exists a huge amount of literature on this, but it will use the themes to relate to this study. My main point is that Turkish movements have not had a central role in Turkish politics because they have been labelled illegal and so they have been under the control of the institutional politics. They could not change the public policies directly, but they pushed the limits of the established systems to become a more democratic society. It means that public policies are affected by the demonstrations of the movements but not lead by them. Turkish movements are not specialized in specific issues, but they demand change in a wideframework. Turkish movements could not create their own spaces in legal politics and so they easily turned to illegality and violence. Because of this, they could not be considered the voices of concrete, legitimate grievances until the 2000s. Most of them have

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long lists of demands and generally focus on changing governments totally, not just changing a policy directly. Also they have not been analyzed along with the social movement literature because they have not had a connection with the global movements until the last few years. The terms of collective behavior, collective action or cultural-­political distinction of movements, can be easily utilized for Turkish movements. As it will be mentioned below, in some cases, the convergence of social movements in the globalization era in both theoretical and practical terms gives an opportunity to analyze the Turkish movements in social movement literature. In the last few years, some new movements have focused much more on direct action with the participation of ordinary people from all around the world and also in Turkey, so they can be seen as symbol of a new era of Turkish social movements. It can be said for Turkish movements that the more participation in international trends and global struggles that takes place, the more of an important role they will have in political life. The latest grassroot uprisings indicate this clearly. In this context my argument is that Turkish movements have developed since the experience of mobilization during the 1970s in a socialist manner outside of the European paradigm, and then after a period of military coups from 1980s until the end of the 1990s, they began to combine both American and European paradigms in searching for democracy and in the 2000s they learnt the importance of the grassroot activities in changing the political debate.

Social movement approaches and turkish cases Firstly, if we want to make an analysis of the changing of Turkish social movements in the context of different approaches of social movements, we cannot easily match the concepts with the cases that will be mentioned below. In general, American approaches that can be described as resource mobilization, political opportunity or political process, analyze the movements inside the system as a regulator concept. The movements reflect grievances and demands against the public authorities and the impacts of the movements remedy the failure of the system and thus improve it. They symbolize the shifting from individual behavior of irrational and anomaly cases to rational collective action to rationalize the system. The social movement organizations are part of the bigger picture and they claim to change the decision-­making process in clear technical ways. European approaches however, focus much more on political debates, before the politics and policy. They try to change the system not just in a reformist way but also in a revolutionary way. While Europeans focus on philosophy of history, the American paradigm has adopted the empiricist frame (Crossley, 2002: 10-­13). It

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may be argued that European approaches are more radical in their understanding of the social movements than the American. However they are also changing and renewing during the process of history and converging while movements are making connections all over the world (della Porta, 2009: 365-­366). Turkish movements have come into contact with this convergence very late due to different democratic and political traditions. In general, Turkish movements have been closer to the European approach during the 1968-­era because of their radical worldview and Marxist tendencies. But when we look closer, the demands were totally different from European movements. While European (youth/anti-­nuclear/women) struggles were focusing on liberation and alienation concepts, Turkish ones –as it will be mentioned below-­did not even know of these concepts, and have only become familiar with Marxism in recent years. The critics of mass society, modernity, and communist parties were not popular in Turkey. Turkish movements were influenced by the Russian and Chinese revolutions and they tried to emulate these revolutions within a Turkish society that was different to both types of country in sociological aspects. The “new social movements” is a title used in the European paradigm, generally for movements after 1968, these groups focused on cultural issues rather than the class-­struggle (Scott, 1990; Melucci, 1994; Crossley, 2002). They organize themselves in a horizontal manner, anti-­hierarchical and comprehensive way. In this approach, willingness of people, direct action and daily-­life issues are more important than rank-­and-­file memberships and a “vanguardist” look. It was the product of criticism of Marxist theory. In the beginning of the new century, movements went beyond cultural-­political distinctions and they began to understand life as a whole; movements were interested in daily life with its economic, cultural and political aspects. The critics of movements focus on not just the democratization of the political system but also daily-­life and all relationships. In early times Turkish movements did not match the new social movements of the 1970s, and then in 1990s they went against this paradigm explicitly. Turkish movements also could not engage with alter/anti-­globalization movements which characterized the latest version of new social movements but in the last decade it has changed slowly because new kinds of movements, which will be mentioned below, are affected by global influences such as the Arab uprisings or Occupy movements. After the collapse of real socialism, it can be said that Turkish movements and Turkish political culture converged to copy the American way and movements called themselves civil society organizations. So in terms of contentious politics (McAdam et al., 2001; Tilly & Tarrow, 2007) that give importance to “mechanisms and process” as the renewal of American paradigms, Turkish

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social movements were not able to create this kind of longterm change. They also could not act as challenger to public authorities and could not successfully create a “boundary shift” in the system. Turkish movements could not focus on specific policy changes but more the renewal of the system as a whole. They may create a “social movement base”, but in Charles Tilly and Sidney Tarrow’s terms they cannot be labeled as a social movement. It may be said that Turkish movements in the last few years have used the impact of international political opportunities that Doug McAdam (1996:34) underlines as important for understanding social movements. For example, Efe Can Gürcan and Efe Peker (2014) make an analysis of Gezi Parkı in terms of political opportunity structure, but from a Marxist perspective. This is also a case of the converging of social movement approaches. In Turkey, before 1980, the wideuse of freedom of association in the 1961 constitution was important. But the adverse institutions were newborn in the politics. Class struggle and unions were weak and also in cooperation with the state. Opposition bodies were constructed by the students and youth movements but they did not spread throughout society. So to make a contentious politics was not possible. After 1980, to make amendments to the1982 constitution concerning basic human rights, social movements created pressure and a public agenda to influence the government. Also the struggle with the concept of the “inner state” issue was one of the main focuses of the Turkish movements during these years and it is still a fundamental point of many different demonstrations. After 1980, these are the basic points of contention between the movements and established politics. But still there is no room for the cultural movements. Turkish new social movements emerged after a-­20-­year delay compared to Europe. The grassroot activities and horizontal networks increased during the process of integration into the European Union and the demands for political liberation created a new kind of movement in the second half of the 1990s. In this context, Turkish movements forced the established “statist” system to turn into a more democratic, participative and accountable one. The search for democracy in opposition to the authoritarian state created some political opportunities for the movements, for example the issue of headscarves for the Islamic movement, or political and cultural demands for Alevi or Kurdish movements and also human rights organizations. The capacity of movements for working together has also increased. The Tekel and Gezi Parkı resistances especially are very instructive for Turkish movements. They have learnt from each other to resist together and it has been a crucial point to enable them to go beyond the established barriers around them. While Turkey is integrating into the world economic system, social movements also created new assemblages to resist or change policies. The new mechanisms and processes can be seen in the Turkish movements of the last

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decade which focus on much more democracy, and these new movements have a chance to analyze them in global terms and concepts because of their differences from early ones.

The agenda of social movements in turkey Turkish movements have never been exact examples of grassroot movements traditionally. They have always attached a kind of institutional politics, acting as a branch of socialist parties or unions. In 1968-­era the main agenda of the social struggles in Turkey was the accomplishment of unfinished national emancipation. Against the dependency policies and economical liberation, an anti-­ imperialist discourse dominated. One of the main aims of the struggles of this period was to use or utilize the 1961 constitution radically and to turn the system into a kind of socialist people’s republic. Other groups criticized the parliamentary way of opposition and chose the armed struggle. In the context of an urgently needed revolution, when European student movements were focusing on critics of alienation and humanist comments of Marxism, Turkish struggles were dealing with nationalist approaches. Many activists were just discovering the Marxist literature, while European counterparts were starting to criticize the theories. The Russian Revolution and East European experiments also had an impact on the roots of the movement as “vanguardist” approaches. Movements were labeled illegal by the establishment and they could not create political structures to change public policies. The effects of Kemalism determined the Turkish movements. To converge on, or retreat from Kemalism is a main theme of the groups. During 1968-­mobilization, the main theme of the socialist movements was to complete the Kemalist revolution that had been betrayed by the right wing politicians. For this aim, a “national democratic revolution” was needed according to this approach. The term “democratic” here does not have a liberal connotation but something like the socialist or people democracies of Eastern Europe. On the contrary, the right wing, nationalist or extremist movements were against this kind of socialist revolution and with the support of the state they struggled against the socialist movements. Nationalism and Revolutionism were the two principles of the six Ataturk principles called the “six arrows” that were the symbols of CHP-­the founding party of the republic. CHP was the owner of the Kemalist top-­down reformation of the society with a positivist approach. Solidarist and corporatist policies of the new republic tried to prevent the class conflict and all religious activity was under the control of the state. Some conservative policies making the state the supreme power were limited by the political debates.

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Social movements in that period had opportunities created by the 1961 constitution because it underlined the right to association and respect for other basic rights. New workers unions, lots of civil society organizations and professional associations were established. The electoral system was changed and the smaller parties had a chance to be represented in the assembly. For the first time in Turkish parliamentary life a socialist party (TİP – Türkiye İşçi Partisi/Turkish Worker Party) that was established by the unions was represented in the parliament. So discussions and debates over political and social life broadened. of the TİP was the implementation of 1961 constitution in the right way. They referred to themselves in their programme as the “non-­capitalist development way”, and did not use the word socialism explicitly-­because it was still a “risky” word. Its youth organization Fikir Kulüpleri Federasyonu (Idea Clubs Federation) was very popular with university students but some of them disagreed with the politics of the TİP. Because anti-­imperialism was the main road of the young activists many of the armed revolutionary groups broke away from the legal struggle of TİP. Also the Islamic and nationalist parties represented in the parliament, and their social and youth organizations took part in struggles against socialist groups to create a more conservative society. After 1971 the intervention of the military so-­called “coup by memorandum”, all socialist and many other organizations were banned but the real impact of the memorandum was felt by the socialist youth; young leaders of the movement were punished with the death penalty and executed. The 1971 intervention aimed to regulate the democratic framework of the 1961 constitution and then the 1980 military coup completed this period (Zürcher, 2004: 241-­278; Ahmad, 2002:121-­148). In general the 1960s were a time of learning for the Turkish people, learning to organize on political level. Between 1960-­1980 the culture of mobilization grew in Turkish society. Different styles of organizations in different professional groups such as musicians, football players, even the police created a more democratic society. To change the establishment by democratic or other means was the main agenda. Social movements were gaining importance in the political arena but the anti-­democratic policies and conservative body of the state, with military backup did not allow this process. After the 1980 military coup, all opposition movements, organizations and political parties were banned. The new regime was established in response to the democratic period of the 1960s. “The rigid suppression of any opinions which opposed their regimented and solidarist view of society” was the basis of the 12 September Regime (Hale, 2013: 269). This period was the beginning of the neo-­liberal security establishment. In almost ten years, economic liberalization in a gradual manner continued with the absence of opposition movements. The

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development of political liberalization was much slower than the economic one. Free elections began to take place from 1983 but they were under the control of the military. New political parties were established and the civil president was elected in this period. In the second half of the 1990s, Turkey witnessed the growth of the civil society concept and a movement against “inner-­state” or “mafia-­state-­political” connections. The first grassroots movement of the 1990s occurred in this context and the slogan was “one minute of darkness for the permanent enlightenment”. The act was the switching-­off the electricity in homes to make a protest against these anti-­democratic relationships. Down-­to-­top organizations gained importance in this period with the framework of participation processes within the European Union. Like the revolution concept of the 1960s, the civil society concept was also used for democratization but this time it was with a much more liberal connotation. According to Tilly (2004), democracy and social movements support each other. Put differently: democratization is a result of the social movements’ activities and also that social movements have a chance to make an impact in a democratic society. During the 1990s, especially on the issues of freedom of speech, human rights and freedom of association, Turkish movements have affected the public agenda. Islamic movements also had an importance, especially after the 1995 Islamic movement gained power through the elections, and the headscarves issue was the main debate on the agenda. Islamic movements used the daily life interactions successfully and with their engagement with some newspapers and civil society organizations they set the agenda in their own way. Alevi organizations which demanded the right to build their own place of worship and respect for their lifestyles were another big example of cultural movements. Also the Kurdish movement, at least their unarmed political parties, had an impact especially on human rights issues. The word “Kurdish” was one of the illegal or banned words in daily life during 1990s. But they gained more power in the 2010s to configure leftist thought and also were in negotiation with the AKP government. The Islamic, Alevi and Kurdish movements created their own spaces successfully in opposition to official or formal Kemalist discourses of the state. Socialist struggle since 1980 had lost its leading role but new political parties were established in renewed discussions such as ÖDP (Özgürlük ve Dayanışma Partisi-­Freedom and Solidarity Party). But their effect on setting agendas has been much less significant than other cultural movements. Because of their rank-­and-­file hierarchy, and old school politics, a new kind of political debate that occurs horizontally with some anarchist tendency gains importance. Especially in the beginning of the 2000s, anti-­war and environmental movements have tried to make a new kind of politics. Old-­school parties and unions could not lead the public agenda

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and the masses but the movements that combined cultural and economic issues have been raising their awareness amongst young people. The Gezi Parkı resistance is a specific case of this change and it will be mentioned later. Since 1980 massive oppositional movements have not been experienced but a new kind created their own political way from the grassroots. The Gezi Parkı resistance is a kind of new spirit that is also shown in counter-­globalization movements. After the second half of the 1990s and 2000s, it can be said that Turkish social movements came to understand the terms of social movement approaches and how they affected the policy process. The daily life and lifestyle affairs became one of the main focuses of the movements and the civil society debates changed politically. Widerange agendas were led by the movements, new areas of struggle arose and against the crisis of the institutional politics, movements start to set agendas of public opinion.

The failed articulation with anti-­globalization movement While in the beginning of the 2000s the relationship was too weak, after a decade the agenda of the movements began to merge with each other, especially concerning the lack of democracy, and civil society issues. As it has been mentioned before, it is very hard to match the concepts and events of Turkish movements with foreign ones until 2000s. It can be said that the more ordinary people joined the movements, the more connections between global and Turkish movements were made. The grassroot movements share similar mobilization issues all around the world, because they depend on the participation of ordinary people to express the demands of dailylife. “From below” movements have more potential to transform social relations with the direct interactions of people. The relationship between daily life and the political can be linked by the social movements, but in Turkey these connections could not be created effectively in the historical process. The anti-­globalization movement has been the main focus of the latest social movements especially since the 1999-­Seattle protests and then in 2001 and the establishment of the World Social Forum. These kinds of movements symbolized a new version of the new social movement approach with their focus on grassroot action, horizontal hierarchy and inclusiveness (Pleyers, 2010; Juris, 2008; McDonald, 2006). In a decade, anti-­globalization movements shifted to counter-­globalization because they created their own language, practices and spaces. So it may be necessary to provide a new title for their efforts, because in the fifteen years since Seattle, social movements gained more importance in formal politics and also created their own areas beyond the cultural-­political distinction (Della Porta et al., 2006).

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So the search to constitute a new politics underlined the movements, rather than establishing an institutional body. In other words, the movements have a constitutive dimension. They constitute new frontiers or boundaries in political debates. 1968 created this break in the politics and then the anti-­globalization movements went beyond this. They indicated the limits of neoliberal economic relations and also the established political system. They demanded more rights to speech, and participation of decision-­making processes that were left to the experts and bureaucrats. People wanted to speak for themselves through these movements. On the global level, movements were turned from anti-­globalization to counter-­globalization or in Michael Hardt and Toni Negri’s words (2009) “alter-­globalization”; that social movements try to create an alternative politics against the established one. The search for new politics stems from movements’ efforts that mobilize the people from the bottom-­to-­top, not old ways of top-­to-­ bottom. This new approach means to go beyond modern thinking and relations. Since 2001 anti-­globalization movements have started to constitute their own institutions and new relationships like the Social Forums. But we could not see these changes in Turkish mobilizations until a few years ago. Turkish movements could not engage with anti-­globalization ideas because of their old-­school politics and institutional connections. While new movements try to figure out a new civil society vision beyond liberal democracies, for the Turkish movements, the civil society concept is not a crucial or important issue on their agenda. Searching for democracy, rather than a revolution, has become the common focus of Turkish movements within the last ten to fifteen years. Turkish movements created a break in the system during this period, not in 1968 or the beginning of the 2000s. In other words, for Turkish movements the new century has just started. It means that they gain a more crucial role in Turkish politics. They have begun to touch the lives of ordinary people and connect them with official politics. So they create political spaces to discuss and represent their disagreements. As with anti/alter globalization movements, a different public space and criticisms of democracy are on the main agendas of Turkish people, although it is a little bit late. They have not experienced the cultural/political distinction deeply but have learned the importance of movements in changing the decision-­making process with collaboration. It creates the possibility to search for new lines of opposition outside of the political parties in Turkey like in other parts of the world. The interaction of the movements continues to accelerate. The rising connection of Turkish movements with the global movements is also related to the global crisis of liberal democracies. The debate over democracy connects the movements each other on a global level. The parliamentary and representative ways of politics are declining and losing importance in the face of direct action,

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demonstrations and the power of social movements. Intervening in the decision making process has become the biggest common point on global level, because of the lack of representative systems and because of a legitimacy crisis of democracy. Social movements have turned into the voice of the ordinary people, especially in anti-­war demonstrations, environmental issues and so on. While anti-­globalization movements have raised these questions since the late of 1990s, Turkish movements’ agendas have changed more slowly according to them. The discourse of Turkish opposition has been different from the global level. They have not been used to cooperating and their capacity to do so has been small. Rank-­and-­file organizations were ruling the agenda and the effects of civil society organizations also have been minimal. However the demand for more democracy, protests against the conservative way of life of the AKP (Adalet ve Kalkınma Partisi-­Justice and Development Party) government and against privatizations and the other effects of the neoliberalism, the Turkish movements have begun to create a common ground.

The raising social movements in AKP Era AKP has been the ruling party of Turkey since 2002 and despite the political instability of the 1990s they have achieved successful economic engagement with neo-­liberal global economies. Their “conservative democracy” symbolizes a kind of paradox of a Turkish political tradition between Western democracies and Islamic principles (Hale & Özbudun, 2010; Yücesan-­Özdemir & Coşar, 2012). The social movements opposing the ruling party were under pressure due to issues of economic stability during these years but they had been raising their voices especially those with the AKP’s authoritarian and majoritarian democratic perspective. Analysis of the rising authoritarianism of AKP is another issue, but in general Turkish social movements of the last decade conflict with their conservative approach. So like the formal Kemalist discourse which prevented emerging social movements during those years, the AKP-­era created another status quo but movements did not have a secondary role in this period. During their first period they were concerned with participation of the EU, so they were more liberal in comparison with earlier years, and global crises had some responses in Turkey. The anti-­war demonstrations in protest against the intervention of the US in Iraq in 2003 were the first steps to making the connection between global and local movements. Turkey was on the edge of war with its neighbor for supporting the American intervention but the demonstrations and protests affected the voting in the General Assembly in March 2003, and it voted against permitting the American troops to use the Turkish land, so Turkey was

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not a part of the war legally. Also in the summer of 2003, with supporting local rock musicians a music festival called “Barışarock” (Rock to Peace) was organized in Istanbul against the war. The festival continued over the next few years and became a symbol of new kind mobilization in Turkey. In addition, Tekel (means Monopoly, a public company that operate tobacco and alcohol products) workers’ resistance over 77-­days at the end of 2009 against the government policies of privatization and their own union that did not resist the dismissal process was new in Turkish struggle (Yıldırım, 2013). These changes towards to new social movement approaches indicate that Turkish movements began to be affected by global tendencies. This episode of Tekel workers’ resistance in the cold winter by constructing a tent city in the center of Ankara was a symbolic grassroots movement of the last decade. In Istanbul, in July 2010, the 6th European Social Forum was established but actually it was the worst European Social Forum when compared with previous ones. Before this event the Turkish Social Forum was active for a while but the social forum could not be organized in a horizontal way as they were still under the effect of old-­school politics. But it can be seen as a new step for Turkish movements to create new areas to connect with each other. These examples can be seen as the effect of the anti-­globalization movements in Turkey. In the summer of 2013, the Gezi Parkı uprisings were a concrete step in searching for new way. It was a resistance to transformation of an open space to a private area and not limited with it but also a transformation of life in a neoliberal and conservative way by the government (Yıldırım, 2014; Özkırımlı, 2014:1-7; Rodriguez et al., 2014: 420-­421). It was not a typical socialist revolutionary or liberal civil disobedience action. But rather, it had an anarchist tendency like the Occupy movements (Gibson, 2013) with a rejection of all established political parties’ both ruling and opposition wings. Actually it is an ongoing and developing political attitude since the anti/alter globalization movement and David Graeber (2002) titled them “new anarchist”. Their focus on direct action and un-­organized bodies position them close to anarchist discourse. They created the new urban movements that used the open spaces of the cities to make political and economic debates in a new manner. As David Harvey argued, struggles in cities are related to the anti-­capitalist movement, he says that (2012:161-­162) different movements all around the world “shows us the collective power of the bodies is still the most effective instrument of opposition when all other means of access are blocked”. This kind of collective power appeared in Turkey. Gezi Parkı is located in the heart of the Istanbul-­Taksim Square and the government decided to reorganize this public space, opening it for private usage such as malls. In a general

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framework, the resistance was against the ruling style of conservative government that ignored the rule of law and intervened easily in the daily life of people. So it can be said that the resistance was the defense of the heart of the public life. It can be also argued that it was the reviving of the ‘68 spirit with the addition of 2000s for Turkey. It was also an echo of the Occupy movements and the Arab Spring in Turkey. In these examples people attempted to speak for themselves without representation and create political debate in public and open places. It can be called second wave of anti-­globalization movements on the global level. While Turkish movements could not connect with the first wave of Seattle and Genova protests, they were affected by the new demonstrations and learned from their actions. There are different dimensions of analysis to the Gezi Parkı movement in a way that exceeds the remit of this paper. But it was totally different from previous action in Turkey. The important point for this article is the participation of the ordinary and unorganized people in the movement. While the previous examples have had links with some institutions, rank-­and-­file memberships or vertical hierarchy, Gezi Parkı resistance occurred spontaneously. Although a horizontal initiative called Taksim Dayanışması (Taksim Solidarity) tried to connect the same NGOs to organize the reactions, it did not have a central role in the developing of events. Because the subject of the movement was the anger of the ordinary people who mobilized in a sporadic manner. Gezi Parkı resistance was a grassroots movement like the anti/alter-­globalization movement and had a horizontal hierarchy. It was a form of searching for new and “real” democracy while the old-­one model was suffering within neoliberal markets (Roos, 2013). Despite harsh police intervention and the constant pressure of the government trying to stigmatize the actions, the people did not give up and not leave the spaces. This local resistance shifted into a national movement that criticized Turkish democracy in general. In the words of the slogan of the resistance, “it was not just related with the trees”. The changing dynamics of Turkish society reflected the resistance. Gezi Parkı turned into an Occupy movement, staying there and also connecting the different places and people (Gambetti, 2014: 91). So Gezi Parkı was not a temporal collective action, rather it has a social movement feature with its effect from the daily life to political process. In this process individuals attempted “to become subjects of their own lives” (Farro and Demirhisar, 2014). They created a new ironic language, a new image of the future and connections between personal and public liberties. It was the most important step to connect Turkish movements with global ones. While Occupy movements that gained popularity during a few years in the big cities like New York, London and Frankfurt had some more concrete demands, Gezi Parkı had a widerange of grievances and demands and different discourses

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to renew the established-­political culture in Turkey. In different cases these occupation movements can be seen as a new era of the anti-­globalization movements that have been seeking a new political and public space. Turkish movements could not identify with these movements in the beginning of 2000s but we can say that Turkish movements began the new century in the summer of 2013. Unfortunately, Turkish institutional opposition bodies did not take into account or analyze the new movements at the global level such as 15M, Indignados and the Occupy movements. So they were surprised when Gezi Parkı resistance rose up. But there was a symbolic change for social movements all around the world and it was also time for Turkish people who were searching for a better form of democracy than the established one. The new century of movements will focus on the democratic debate and criticism of the neoliberal, conservative or corporate ones. Turkish movements also will be influenced by this process and like in Gezi Parkı, people will speak through these movements directly, not just in elections.

Conclusion To make a conclusion, it can said that in the last decade Turkish movements have developed more in common with the genre of global movements in terms of their mobilization manner. This identification with global and local movements has accelerated worldwide and Turkey has been affected by this process. On the global level, mobilization and participation of ordinary people in collective action is on the rise. They combine their voices in these social movements to speak for themselves, to make changes in the decision-­making processes. Because of the crisis of representative democracy and the democratic deficit, social movements are becoming more crucial to the political process. While both economic and political systems are not satisfying the people and established political organizations cannot respond to the demands, people speak their words directly in open spaces. Social movements on a global level try to constitute new public areas in opposition to the established ones. From the beginning of the 2000s the concepts of civil society and public have been reconsidered due to the efforts of (World and European) Social Forums and radical thinking beyond liberal democracies has been the main focus of the social movements. In this context although Turkish movements have organizational barriers and vertical hierarchies, the new local movements indicate the change towards global movements’ tendencies. Grassroot movements are more visible and important in Turkish politics in recent last years. In other words, global movements created a political opportunity for Turkish movements. The contentious politics of movements began to set the agenda in Turkey, and aspects of new social movements began to be seen in

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Turkish experiments. The power of social movements slowly began to influence Turkish politics and so the institutions that have been traditionally built from the top are under pressure from social movements. In the 1990s the main agenda was focused on becoming a more democratic society with a widening civil society concept in opposition to the authoritarian semi-­militarist state; in 2000s the agenda was still concerned with democracy but now with the participation of ordinary people and rising direct collective action against unpopular policies. The Gezi Parkı resistance was the most obvious example because of its radical difference to Turkish social movement tradition. The Gezi Parkı movement indicated the importance of ordinary people organized in social movements, intervening in established political life. Different types of political views converged in the Gezi Parkı resistance in a search for a new democracy, civil society and opposition bodies. It indicated the limits of Turkish politics and showed that the country needed a new form of struggle outside of the old discourses. On a theoretical level, in order to analyze the Turkish youth and new movements that are emerging with them, we need new perspectives and frameworks. Turkey is undergoing transformation in sociological and political aspects but this has not been evident political and social theory. Turkey cannot be analyzed by old-­concepts of social theory anymore and social movement studies must be more open to understand the changing of society. Gezi Parkı indicated the need for a renewal in analysis. While Turkish movements are engaging with the global tendencies, Turkish scholars also must be interested in social movement literature. Social movements in 2000s have much more of a role in Turkish politics if we compare with 1970s legal politics. It is related with the rapid changing of Turkish society and the failure of the established institutional politics to understand these dynamics.

Bibliography Ahmad, F. (2002) The Making of Modern Turkey. London: Routledge. Crossley, N. (2002) Making Sense of Social Movements. London: Open University Press. Çelik, N. B. (2000) “The Constitution and Dissolution of Kemalist Imaginary” in Howarth et. al., (eds.) Discourse Theory and Political Analysis: Identities, Hegemonies and Social Change. Manchester: Manchester University Press: 193-­204. Della Porta, D., Andretta, M., Mosca, L. & Reiter, H. (2006) Globalization From Below: Transnational Activist and Protest Networks. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.

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Farro, A. L. & Demirhisar, D. G. (2014) “The Gezi Park Movement: A Turkish Experience of the Twentyfirst Century Collective Movements”, in International Review of Sociology: Revue Internationale de Sociologie, Vol. 24(1): 176-­189. Gambetti,  Z. (2014) “Occupy Gezi as the Politics of Body”, in Özkırımlı (ed.) The Making of a Protest Movement in Turkey #occupygezi. London: Palgrave: 89-­103. Graeber, D. (2002) “The New Anarchist”, in New Left Review, Vol. 13(6): 61-­73. Gürcan, E. C. & Peker, E. (2014) “Turkey’s Gezi Park Demonstrations of 2013: A Marxian Analysis of the Political Moment”, in Socialism and Democracy, Vol. 28(1): 70-­89. Hale, W. (2013) Turkish Politics and the Military. London: Routledge. Hardt, M., Negri,  A. (2009) Common Wealth. Cambridge, MA: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. Harvey, D. (2012) Rebel Cities-­From Right to the City to the Urban Revolution. London: Verso. Juris, J. S. (2008) Networking Futures: The Movements Against Corporate Globalization. Durham: Duke University Press. Kadıoğlu, A. (1998) “The Paradox of Turkish Nationalism and the Construction of Official Identity”, in Kedourie (ed.) Turkey: Identity, Democracy, Politics. London: Routledge: 177-­194. McAdam, D.; Tarrow, S. & Tilly, C. (2001) Dynamics of Contention. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. McAdam, D. (1996) “Conceptual Origins, Current Problems, Future Directions”, in McAdam, McCarthy, Mayer & Zald (eds.) Comperative Perspectives on Social Movements. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press: 23-­40. McDonald, K. (2006) Global Movements: Action and Culture. Oxford: Blackwell. Melucci,  A. (1994) “A Strange Kind of Newness: What’s ‘New’ in New Social Movements?” in Laraña, Johnston & Gusfield (eds.) New Social Movements: From Ideology to Identity. Philadelphia: Temple University: 101-­132. Özbudun,  E. (2010) Contemporary Turkish Politics: Challenges to Democratic Consolidation. Lynee Reiner Publ. Özkırımlı, U. (2014) “Introduction”, in Özkırımlı (ed.) The Making of a Protest Movement in Turkey #occupygezi. London: Palgrave: 1-­7. Pleyers,  G. (2010) Alter-­Globalization: Becoming Actors in a Global Age. Cambridge: Polity Press.

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Rodriguez, C., Avalos, A., Yılmaz, H. & Planet, A.I. (2014) “Some Observations on Turkey’s Democratization Process”, in Rodriguez, Avalos, Yilmaz & Planet (eds.) Turkey’s Democratization Process. London: Routledge: 407-­425. Roos, J. (2013) The Turkish protests and the genie of revolution, Roar Magazin, 03.06.2013. Available at: . Tilly, C. & Tarrow S. (2007) Contentious Politics. Boulder, CO: Paradigm. Tilly, C. (2004) Social Movements: 1768-­2004. Boulder, CO: Paradigm. Yıldırım, Y. (2013) “An Analysis of the Tekel Resistance at Turkey in the Context of Social Movements”, in European Scientific Journal (ESJ), Vol. 9(26): 8-­35. Yıldırım, Y. (2014) “The Differences of Gezi Parki Resistance in Turkish Social Movements”, in IJHSS, Vol. 4(5): 177-­185. Yücesan-­Özdemir, G. & Coşar, S. (eds.) (2012) Neoliberalism, Islamist Politics and AKP Years in Turkey. Toronto, Ontario: Red Quill Book. Zürcher, E. J. (2004) Turkey as a Modern History, New Edition. London: I.B.Tauris & Co. Ltd.

Justin AK Helepololei

Manual Transmission: The Do-­It-­Yourself Theory of Occupy Wall Street and Spain’s 15M Abstract What happens when protests die out? Studying a specific type of output, do it-­ yourself-­manuals of the Occupy movement and the Spanish 15M, this chapter investigates how political actions are sustained after the actual mass mobilisations started to decrease. The author argues that the rejection of “politics as normal” is transformed into the positive content of building a new normal, outlined through collectively-­written manuals for living-­in-­resistance. The chapter argues that re-­ orientation towards less visible forms of contestation requires re-­evaluation of the way in which we study these and other instances of protest mobilisation in terms of their scale, stability and success.

Occupying theory Whereas in the disciplinary era sabotage was the fundamental notion of resistance, in the era of imperial control it may be  desertion. Whereas being-­against in modernity often meant a direct and/or dialectical opposition of forces, in postmodernity being-­ against might well be most effective in an oblique or diagonal stance. Battles against the Empire might be won through subtraction and defection. This desertion does not have a place; it is the evacuation of places of power (Hardt & Negri, 2000: 212).

Where do protests take place? Where do we look for them? Does the protest end once protesters leave the public view? Is protesting a finite action or can it become indefinite -­a way of being? The spectacular protest occupations of Occupy Wall Street (OWS) and Spain’s Indignado or 15M Movement ended for a number of reasons. Even before their violent physical evictions, concerns were voiced internally about the viability and desirability of organizing on-­going protests on a citywide scale. A year after their 2011 debut, participants in the anniversary demonstrations of both OWS (in New York) and the 15M (in Barcelona), acted on these critiques of centralized organizing. In both places, a greater emphasis was placed on autonomous and dispersed actions than had been the case a year prior. The citywide General Assemblies -­the massive, participatory, decision-­making bodies that had captured the attention of visitors to the 2011 occupations -­were revived for the anniversary celebrations, but these bodies

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had retained more symbolic than pragmatic value in terms of organizing protests. In the intervening year, spokescouncils (in the case of OWS), and inter-­ neighborhood coordinadoras [coordinating meetings of the 15M] had replaced much of the decision-­making functions of the earlier mass assemblies. In both cases, these decentralized models were used to coordinate the actions of smaller, neighborhood-­based or issue-­specific organizing groups that had continued to meet post-­eviction. The one-­year anniversary mobilizations served as an opportunity to showcase in what new directions participants had been directing their energy since the evictions of the 2011 encampments, and where they imagined the future of the mobilizations would go. The protest against “politics as normal” had been channeled into everyday practices, from debt resistance, to the formation of new cooperatives and the collective self-­management of occupied homes and workplaces. In both contexts these projects were encouraged by the creation of manuals for disobedience. Prompted by this shift in protest practice and imagery, this essay takes up the following lines of inquiry: first, if by 2012, activists from both the US and Spain had come to the conclusion that large-­scale occupations were untenable, or had reached the limit of their utility, what more sustainable modes of action did they imagine and promote and how did they justify them? Second, in considering a common denominator among these recent mobilizations was the call to take public spaces, what does it mean for evaluations of movement “success” or longevity that protesters are no longer occupying the squares they once were? And finally, what does the shift from extra-­ordinary acts of disruption to the cultivation of everyday politics have for prevailing understandings of what political and social change look like? In order to address these questions, the following paper will examine some of the strategies advocated by participants in the 15M and OWS, as expressed through the movements’ early self-­published periodicals, and later, as these discussions were transformed into proposals for dispersed action, collectively published in the form of manuals during the 1-­year anniversary mobilizations. Consistent with activists’ emphasis on prefiguration and process, I consider the significance of the specific platforms they use. As a window into how participants are going about creating the worlds they wish to live in, we can look at how these “post-­encampment” modes of discussion engage with the movements’ values and visions of social change. In particular, I argue that the format of the do-­it-­yourself manual is exemplary of the collective-­yet-­dispersed actions experimented with in earlier encampment forms and further developed in activists’ theoretical publications. Going further, I contend that these “self-­help” manuals may prove especially well suited to the task of producing the kind of deep,

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political change necessary for unseating what activists refer to as the “financial dictatorship” of austerity policies. If the entrenchment of neoliberal values was accomplished through the individualizing subjectification of similar “technologies of citizenship” aimed at developing self-­esteem and self-­empowerment, as Cruikshank, 1999) and others have argued, it would seem entirely consistent that the rejection of existing subject formations would require political work on a similar scale. In this case, the cultivation of “un-­governable subjects,” through a do-­it-­yourself orientation to politics and community building. I will not argue that these activists offer foolproof strategies, however they do propose a terrain, and a scale of protest that merit greater scholarly attention. In their 2012 Declaration, Michael Hardt and Toni Negri argue that the most important contribution of recent mobilizations has been the democratic subjectivities they are attempting to produce, the ways in whch people have been transformed through protest and through the rejection of old models of sociality. “The movements” they claim, “are writing a manual for how to create and live in a new society” (Hardt & Negri, 2012: Introduction). In the strategies these guides outline, moving beyond sporadic protest events to enacting change through daily actions, we can say quite literally: Yes, they are.

Preface to a do-­it-­yourself revolution In May of 2011, tens of thousands of people marched in 58 cities throughout Spain, angered by an increasingly dire economic situation and the perception that the politicians and bankers responsible for the crisis were not being held responsible. They were inspired by popular uprisings in Iceland, Tunisia and Egypt and organized, through online networks, such as Democracia Real Ya [Real Democracy Now] and Juventud Sin Futuro [Youth Without a Future] (Feixa, 2012). Beginning in Madrid and spreading quickly throughout the country, protesters took over and camped in city plazas, some managing to last for weeks. Those living in the encampments managed their own day-­to-­day affairs and organized further demonstrations through General Assemblies and smaller commissions, all the while streaming their activities live via social media. Participants have been referred to collectively as the indignados [the indignant] for their unifying rejection of the status quo. Hoping to counter the media’s overly-­simplistic portrayals of the protests as based solely on rejection (and thus without any positive contributions or programs of their own), many participants have insisted on using the designation 15M – or the May 15th movement -­after the date on which the statewide call for occupations took place (or plaza, as it were) as a way to embrace the diverse array of interests and demands, from the defense of

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existing public services (health, education, transportation), to universal housing, migrants rights, and visions of a more radical, democratic politics. On September 17 2011, a similar scene played out in New York City’s financial district, where a group of activists met and began an occupation of Manhattan’s Zuccotti Park that lasted until November 15th. Similar to -­and inspired by -­ the encampments of Spain, participants debated and managed the occupation through General Assemblies and various issue-­specific working groups. Occupy Wall Street – as it came to be known -­inspired a wave of occupations in cities throughout the US and beyond, transmitting strategies and concepts for similar occupations throughout the world. Equally broad in their critique, many Occupy Wall Street (OWS) protesters, like those of the 15M, rejected “politics as usual,” which for many centered on the sense that elected representatives were unwilling and unable to reign in the power of large financial institutions. Drawing on self-­reflexive, anarchist, and feminist organizing traditions, and especially from practices developed during the alter-­globalization protests of the early 2000s, protesters at OWS were as interested in their own internal politics and issues of self-­organizing as they were in evaluating occupation’s external impact. The debates taking place in the plazas -­about the nature of social change and the best way to go about it – expanded quickly from the physical spaces of the assemblies and working groups, onto virtual forums and print media. Even years after the physical encampment itself ended, debates have continued among participants over how the protests were handled, whether success can be claimed, and how to think about the protests’ impact. Considering the emphasis on these mobilizations’ use of digital technology (Castells, 2012), it is striking how central print media has been throughout. In the origin stories of the 15M and Occupy Wall Street, printed forms, and especially printed calls to action have been accredited as playing a major role in sparking convergences. In the case of OWS, an issue of the magazine Adbusters set the date of September 17th for a protest occupation – a “Tahrir Moment” – to take place in lower Manhattan. The call was embraced by local organizing efforts and, to the surprise of participants and observers alike; people actually came (Shulman, 2011). With the 15M, the use of the term “indignados” is frequently attributed to an essay by the French human rights advocate Stéphane Hessel entitled “Indignez-­vous!” – which has been translated to “Time for Outrage!” but also uses the reflexive, command form to “outrage-­yourselves.” The essay which came out in October 2010 brought together many of the themes taken up by the indignados: political corruption, the impunity of those “responsible” for the crisis, declining investment in the public good, and even concerns of environmental degradation (Hessel, 2010; Feixa, 2012; Castells, 2012). Although the role of these publications in producing

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the protests may have been exaggerated1, as frequently cited artifacts they have proven popular anchoring devices for researchers and reporters seeking authorship in a cycle of protests that has otherwise disavowed authority. As part of a generalized rejection of representation, and critique of the intellectual vanguardism of previous protest moments, participants in both mobilizations have dedicated a great deal of energy and resources towards publishing self-­analyses, emphasizing collective involvement, not only in the planning of actions, but in theorizing collective action and in seeking to dissolve the separation between theory and practice. Although some voices may have received more attention than others, collective theorization was celebrated and promoted in the encampments and later through journals, videos, blogs, newspapers and more ephemeral modes of mass communication like Facebook, Twitter and Tumblr. Within this proliferation of self-­analysis, both mobilizations have emphasized an open-­ended dialogue, with recurring calls for articles, critiques and submissions in regard to theorizing the location and future of each “movement” – seeking to perpetuate and expand conversations and forms of horizontal decision-­making. Myriad projects have continued to emerge in the intervening year-­and-­a-­half since the occupations themselves ended and more will likely follow. To look at some specific aspects of this dynamic, this paper will focus on two theory-­oriented publications: Tidal (from OWS) and Rebelaos (15M). Produced after eviction in both cases, these publications were put to the task of facilitating critical dialogues between participants beyond the plazas. By looking at these publications as pre-­cursors to the later manuals, we can see how decentralized theorization provides a foundation for decentralized action, and a profound re-­ imagining of what social change might look like.

Themes of tidal (OWS) Creating new autonomous community zones is necessary for the survival of the movement. We must project our vision of a just world onto the blank paving stones of public parks and into the silent hallways of abandoned schools. Now it is time to shift our communities—to turn our collective imaginary into a collective reality…Our collective liberation rejects the authority stolen from the people. We reject your oppressive stability in favor of our chaotic liberty fueled by self-­empowerment and self-­determination. We will be solving our own problems while you, who have solved none of them, become

1 Hessel, for instance, did not call for a rejection of representative politics that became central to the 15M. And as Graeber and Sitrin have noted, activists were organizing along similar themes in New York before Adbuster’s call to occupy.

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obsolete. Now it is about human creativity and the power of action. All power to the imagination. Occupy Everywhere (Occupy Theory, 2011a: 7).

Collectivity, liberation, autonomy; the treatment of these concepts as they recur throughout Tidal’s four issues gives a sense of how the activist-­theorists within the Occupy Theory Working Group envision organizing beyond the space of Zuccotti Park. The examples of community space where this shift from “collective imaginary into a collective reality” is imagined are public parks and schools, but the nature of the community, the people with whom our collective reality will be transformed remains open. Author Nina Mehta reflects on the success of training activists to facilitate meetings through the “Occupy Town Square” model, a model in which experienced facilitators brought the organizing principles and practices of OWS to other boroughs of New  York. Mehta argues that even “in the absence of the park, our relationships are still threaded through physical space. But now we are mobile, dispersed, decentralized, and this is not a bad thing” (Occupy Theory, 2012a: 21). Through the mobile form of organizing presented by “Occupy Town Square,” assemblies and campaigns anchored in physical spaces become part of a network that operates as a collective conversation between campaigns like Sunset Park Rent Strike or Cop Watch projects. The articulation between spaces is considered necessary for developing mutual support and “critical solidarity” between communities. The emphasis on the ongoing tasks of building within and between echoes the active constitution of community that was central to the encampments. Rather than coalescing pre-­existing, self-­identifying blocs of participants, OWS general assemblies and working groups brought new communities into existence through conversation itself. If occupation was necessary to establish mutually supportive collectivities, liberation is the next phase in the process by which new, imagined worlds become reality. Like community, liberation refers not just to the liberation of physical spaces through occupation -­but the liberation of individuals from their roles in perpetuating “the system.” As Suzahn E. in “The Revolution Will Not Have a Bottom Line” from the third issue of Tidal argues: The number of people that came to the mobilization matters little if lives remain unchanged — if everyone goes back to their offices. Concepts such as “real wins” and “victories” are useful but dangerous. Liberation is facilitated by a fundamental shift in priorities on all levels, towards collective support and dismantling control and oppression over each other (Occupy Theory, 2012: 9).

That success is measured in the changing of lives and interpersonal relationships reveals something of the nature of the liberation imagined. Success by this

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definition could be one person not returning to their routine. The result of collective liberation is imagined as the opening of new possibilities for autonomous self-­organizing. Within the idea of a collective conversation between occupied spaces, each assembly maintains its autonomy to make decisions for itself. Likewise, each individual retains the autonomy to make a personal decision about whether or not to follow with the decisions made in assembly. Incorporating outside examples, Marina Sitrin contributes to the second issue of Tidal with “Pulling the Emergency Brake,” describing the ways in which workers from Argentina’s recuperated factories attempted to maintain their autonomy from the State while trying to liberate their workplaces during the economic crisis of 2001. For these workers, “the perspective on material support is to take what movement participants can get only as long as they maintain their own agenda. As soon as the State puts demands or qualifiers on the offer, the people walk away” (Occupy Theory, 2012: 7). The reminder that would-­be liberators will need to negotiate with the state at some point complicates some of the earlier, more dramatic ideas of complete withdrawal. Through the examples from Argentina, Sitrin is able to show how such abstract calls for building autonomy have historically come into contact with existing authority; a point made visceral by the New  York Police Department’s eviction of Zuccotti Park, but not addressed substantially in the mostly-­optimistic visions of autonomy presented in other sections of the journal.

Themes of rebelaos (15M) From the beginning activists from Spain’s 15M drew on pre-­existing relations, ­resources, and historical memories of struggle to create new modalities of organizing, a theme that runs throughout the journal Rebelaos. Online networks like Juventud Sin Futuro and Democracia Real Ya were credited with calling for the first occupations. Media collectives and alternative venues like Indymedia, established during the alter-­globalization protests of the early 2000s, have also amplified efforts. Among the newer collectives, Afinidad Rebelde came together in October of 2011 to produce Rebelaos (“Rebel yourselves”) – a set of articles written by seasoned activists around the subject of developing ways of living autonomously from the state and focusing on facets of daily life. In each article, theoretical arguments are accompanied by a list of collectives already employing the principles being discussed. This section will discuss several of these recurring themes -­disobedience, autogestión (self-­management) and integration. As the authors explain in the article “La insumisión fiscal como estrategia de rebeldía” [fiscal insubmission as a strategy of rebellion]:

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A fiscal disobedience that serves to nurture the autogestión of the assemblies and from these, to give absolute priority to the participatory financing of the resources we consider truly public (Afinidad Rebelde, 2011: 16, my translation).

Fiscal disobedience, the refusal to pay debts, is presented as a means to undermine the state both symbolically and materially. It offers a protest, a rejection of state legitimacy, at the same that it frees resources for the construction of an alternative, “truly public” mode of resource distribution. As with the liberation and autonomy tropes of OWS, both disobedience and autogestión are presented as the outcome of collectivizing individual efforts. Autogestión as it is discussed, introduces self-­management at a collective scale, while a “haztela tu misma” or “do-­it-­yourself ” ethic is encouraged at the level of individuals and households. With the aim of constructing a “new popular sovereignty,” the authors of Rebelaos make the claim that sufficient knowledge and resources already exist to extend these models beyond plaza occupations and protests. In the section “15M: de la autorganización en las plazas a la construcción de una nueva soberanía popular” [15M: from the self-­organization in the plazas to the construction of a new popular sovereignty] the authors insist that for us to “arrive at this new state does not require a quantitative increase of our energy as much as a qualitative development of our capacities” (Afinidad Rebelde, 2011: 3). Fiscal disobedience here is presented as: …the best form of living in insolvency. It is the source of generating new economic relations, new social relations, new trust, new rights and for that we substitute the laws, the privations and the repression of the capitalist system for liberty and the trust that we find participating in the new society (“Insolvency and cooperatives,” Rebelaos: 14, my translation).

While insolvency of any kind might not seem a desirable course of action, in the context of Spain’s ongoing financial crisis, where general unemployment exceeds 25 percent, youth unemployment (under 25 years old) exceeds 52 percent, and bankruptcy and home foreclosures are rampant, using financial insolvency strategically as a tool for social change re-­frames what might otherwise be seen as a profoundly undesirable state in which to be2. According to the authors of the manual, “the best form of living in insolvency” is one that offers the possibility of collapsing the system that has produced it. But if we imagine ourselves as participants in one of these mobilizations, having read and possibly been inspired by such a call to action, we might ask how does one start? As individual readers how would we take action, especially when we are no longer able to occupy the same public 2 Instituto Nacional de Estadística, accessed December 9, 2012 [://www.ine.es]

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spaces as before? Where do we go? How do we bring the theoretical reflections offered by these publications into our own lives? Lucky for us there’s a manual… Two even!

Manual transmission In the year following the initial OWS and 15M mobilizations, groups of activists produced manuals offering concrete modes of action for continuing the struggle now that both mobilizations have entered into post-­eviction phases. That activists within these spaces have distributed manuals – the Debt Resistors’ Operations Manual (OWS) and the Manual de Desobediencia Económica or “Manual of Economic Disobedience” (15M) – is a phenomenon worth considering in itself. As a format, manuals connect the theoretical to the applied in specific and immediate ways. They propose concrete means for creating the conditions in which new kinds of subjects might emerge, through relations not predicated on the individualizing discipline of the market, but by and through the directly democratic distribution of responsibilities and resources. By looking closer at what the producers of these media have to say and how they say it we are given a window into these movements and into the kinds of social change participants hope to effect.

The debt resistors’ operations manual (OWS) A year after the original Occupy Wall Street encampment, members of the Strike Debt assembly and Occupy Wall Street self-­published the Debt Resistors’ Operations Manual (DROM). While the manual is designed to help individuals reflect on how one might personally apply some or all of the debt resistance practices they describe, the authors of the DROM insist on highlighting the “strength in numbers” that a community of readers, all simultaneously taking up these practices, would produce. They argue that, while “individually our debts overwhelm us; collectively our debts can overwhelm the system.” Any doubts about the efficacy of debt resistance should therefore take into consideration the potential of many other, fellow-­readers taking part. Like any decent manual, the DROM goes into specific detail, explaining an array of legal processes for pursuing debt relief and readjustment. The authors of the DROM reject the idea of pursuing “debt forgiveness,” which they argue would legitimize the very political institutions that have long profited from debt. Instead, the manual advocates immediate actions from below, intended to help readers extricate themselves from debt and from their reliance on existing financial and political institutions entirely.

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The body of the Debt Resistors’ Operations Manual is divided in two sections. The first half details how to challenge different types of personal debt. The sub-­ sections are, as listed: “credit scores and consumer reporting agencies, credit card debt, medical debt, student debt, and housing debt.” The second half discusses forms of collective debt and is more descriptive than instructional -­situating personal debt within a larger political economic structure that, as a whole, depends on debt to function. The sections of the collective debt half are: “municipal debt, fringe finance transaction products and services, fringe finance credit products and services, debt collection, bankruptcy, and prospects for change.” Included within the appendix of the manual are sample forms for procedures like: “contesting and repairing credit reports or disputing medical debts.” The DROM identifies itself as only one of numerous projects attempting to link multiple open assemblies and organizations through collective action. As the authors from Strike Debt and Occupy Wall Street explain in the concluding “Prospects for Change” section: Debt resistance can take many forms and Strike Debt is developing tactics, resources and frameworks for generalizing the fight against the debt system. These initiatives include publishing this manual and hosting debtors’ assemblies; supporting the work of the Occupy Student Debt Campaign and their Pledge of Refusal; launching the “Rolling Jubilee” …and planning direct actions across the country, ranging from debt burnings to targeted shutdowns of predatory lenders of all kinds (Strike Debt, 2012: 110).

The confluence of different projects, assemblies and organizations listed in this paragraph alone illustrates the kind of networked connectivity advocated earlier within OWS’ theory journal, Tidal. The manual calls for submissions from readers with additional ideas for resisting debt. It invites autonomous action and theorization from individuals, families or collectives – offering resources to use or improve upon at will. Rather than the authoritative prescriptions, the manual explicitly disavows expert authority, calling for a more dialogic encounter between the text and the reader, as well as within the potential community of readers it imagines.

The manual of economic disobedience (15M) Given away in hard copy and distributed for free online, the Manual de Desobediencia Económica [Manual of Economic Disobedience] was produced by Derecho de Rebelión, a working group based mostly in Barcelona, but organized through the online networking platform N-­1. Coordinating over the non-­ commercial, open-­ software social network, activists collated resources and articles for the publication. Like Rebelaos, they used funding from donations to

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print 5,000 copies for distribution. And also like Rebelaos, articles are presented without individual authors, only the name of the collective. Unlike some of the activist-­theorists within OWS, the writers of the Manual de Desobediencia Económica (hereafter MDE) have not shied away from employing the discourse of rights, as illustrated by the very name of the working group, Derecho de Rebelión [Right to Rebellion]. Drawing their name and purpose from the “Declaration of the Rights of Man and Citizen” -­the central text of the French Revolution -­ the manual’s manifesto argues: When the government violates the rights of the people, insurrection is for the people and for each segment of the people, the most sacred of its rights and the most indispensable of its duties (Derecho de Rebelión, 2012: 8).

Citing the examples of Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, whose resistance to British imperialism centered on the idea of non-­collaboration, and Henry David Thoreau, whose treatise Civil Disobedience is informed by his own time spent in jail for refusing to pay taxes, Derecho de Rebelión’s manifesto calls for individuals to assert their “sacred and natural right to disobedience” -­highlighting the historical legacy of tax resistance in which they place both figures. Like OWS’ Debt Resistors’ Operations Manual, the Manual de Desobediencia Económica is divided into sections based on individual actions and collective actions, but ends with a more substantial third section detailing “alternatives to the system”. The “individual actions” section includes discussion of steps for specific forms of insubordination towards value-­added and personal income taxes, as well as advice for dealing with bankruptcy and challenging debt. The “collective actions” section advocates the creation of working groups for researching “the legal validity” and implications of fiscal disobedience tactics, and to establish ongoing “cooperatives to protect autogestión from the actions of the bank and the state.” The final section, “Alternatives to the System,” contains sub-­sections on topics like: “constructing a way of life at the margin of the current system”, “comprehensive public systems,” and “alternative financing.” It includes descriptions and contact information for various health, educational and agricultural collectives as well as larger networks of regional “integrated cooperatives” which connect smaller projects. One of the examples given, the Cooperativa Integral Catalana (or Catalan Integrated Cooperative), has been funded in part by the “strategic insolvency” of one of the cooperative’s founding members, Enric Duran i Giralt. Referred to as “Robin Banks” in mainstream media venues, Duran i Giralt was arrested in Spain in 2009 but is currently at large, facing possible prison time for refusing to make payments on 492,000 euros in loans. Taken out from 39 financial institutions, Duran i Giralt claims that these loans have been

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used to help finance various anticapitalist projects3 including the manual itself. The authors challenge readers to see these examples as the beginning of an admittedly difficult road ahead. The final section “Conclusiones y continuidad: las oficinas de desobediencia economica” [Conclusions and continuity: the offices of economic disobedience] warns that: When we succeed, power will not be blocked immediately, but will be forced to repress us and knock down our popular power to establish itself as the only legitimate power within its territory…As individual people, as human beings, we have in civil disobedience and in autogestión, two fundamental tools of political action. As a people organized in a massive form, we have the responsibility to make the world in which we are living, as we would like it to be (Derecho de Rebelión, 2012: 54).

In this configuration, disobedience makes space for projects of autogestión. Simultaneous, individual and collective modes of disobedience feed into already-­ existing, self-­managed organizations. The MDE presents an integrated approach to resistance and the re-­constitution of social relations through interactions that support each other as they occur at multiple scales, from individual and local, to collective and regional. The manual itself: a product of collective writing, printing and distribution reflects the larger project of mutually assisted desertion, the protest of an exodus of people and resources from the current “system” and into nascent, alternative society.

Manual-­a-­manual: Convergences and divergences Rebelaos is, from cover to cover, a call for building communities outside of institutional politics. Such is not the case with OWS’ Tidal, where not all of the contributors have given up on the potential for social transformation through the state and existing institutions. Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak concedes that, “in order to correct political economy, we cannot rely on politics alone,” but does not reject the state entirely. Calling for a global general strike, Spivak still insists on the possibility of pressuring the existing national and international authorities to provide better regulation of financial markets and to hold capital accountable to the public (Occupy Theory, 2012: 7-­8). Spivak’s contribution shows that the idea of complete, collective withdrawal is only one of various paths envisioned by theorists within OWS. While the disagreements contained within these texts would be viewed as contradictions within a more centralized, cohesive movement, the disagreements within OWS underline the poly-­vocal aspect of the mobilization,

3 Garcia, Jesus “Una estafa antisistema”, El País, 16 May 2009.

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the kind of diversity encouraged by the type of open-­source organizing from which these documents come.4 One of the more obvious differences between these texts is the greater number of alternative, economic projects Rebelaos and the Manual de Desobediencia Económica are able to offer, as compared with those texts from OWS. This may reflect the different immediate, material contexts in which these manuals have been produced. In Spain, the severity of unemployment, the sudden and deep cuts to social programs, and the widespread feeling that any national government will remain subordinate to the European Union’s demands, have fostered a sense among many that things will not get better anytime soon, or without some kind of radical change. This is a sentiment conveyed in the protest chant “No és crisi, és capitalisme” or “This is not a crisis, this is capitalism.” Another considerable difference is the set of historical examples Spanish activists draw from, such as the de-­centralized Iberian Anarchist Federation of the Spanish Civil War, as well as more recent cooperative models, such as the Mondragon Corporation5 – a federation of worker cooperatives based in the Basque Country and currently the 7th largest company in Spain. As a result of these and other examples, the modes of organizing advocated in the manual may be familiar to a larger segment of the populaton than might be the case in the US. Whether in the form of consumer cooperatives, time banks, or barter markets, popular economic initiatives are a familiar means by which many Spanish readers are already meeting some of their daily needs.6 By contrast, the Debt Resistor’s Operations Manual restricts itself to walking the reader through institutional avenues for challenging debt. In Tidal we have a discussions of various sites of resistance (the Sunset Park Rent Strike, Stop ‘Stop and Frisk’ campaigns against the NYPD), things to fight against, but a kind of horizon emerges within the OWS literature beyond which it is hard to envision what the positive content of alternatives to “the system” would look like, or how they would be put into practice. The emphasis on a radical break 4 Jeffrey S. Juris describes the mode of individualized, yet mass participation observed in the Occupy movement as a “logic of aggregation” in “Reflections on #Occupy Every­where: Social Media, Public Space, and Emerging Logics of Aggregation” American Ethnologist 39(2): 259–279, 2012. 5 For a more in-­depth analysis and context see Bakaikoa, Baleren, and Eneka Albizu. 2011. Basque cooperativism. Reno, Nev: Center for Basque Studies, University of Nevada, Reno. 6 Eunjung Cha, Arian “In Spain, financial crisis feeds expansion of a parallel, euro-­free economy” Washington Post, August 27, 2012.

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from existing relations and an aura of newness, de-­emphasize the role of positive historical legacies, like those more central to the manual of the 15M. What we are left with in OWS is the argument that the system needs to be brought down, and then afterwards we can decide how to replace it. Hardt and Negri in Declaration contrast this kind of “destituent” mode of resistance – refusal, economic withdrawal and the collapse of the old model – with “constituent” processes, attempts to build or constitute new structures. This latter, constituent tendency seems, at this point, more apparent in the cooperative models presented in the 15M publications. Between the two mobilizations we can also see a discrepancy similar to the distinction Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari make between “molecular” and “molar” formations, in regard to how organization has taken place, and how social change is being proposed (Deleuze & Guattari, 1987). The central example Occupy/Strike Debt’s manual offers of its principles and tactics in action is the Rolling Jubilee. Buying anonymous medical debt from secondary markets in order to “abolish it,” the Rolling Jubilee project has so far been able to cancel over $14 million in debt7 through a running collection now totaling over $600,000 in donations. As the Rolling Jubilee webpage proclaims: “Together we can liberate debtors at random through a campaign of mutual support, good will, and collective refusal. Debt resistance is just the beginning. Join us as we imagine and create a new world based on the common good, not Wall Street profits”. Although the Rolling Jubilee is presented as a “mutual aid” project, the way in which debts are bundled together and sold to collection agencies and the way in which Rolling Jubilee aggregates donations through a singular point of redistribution mean that the donors and recipients remain anonymous to each other. The form of participation Strike Debt facilitates, while benefiting many, still operates in a centralized manner, a molar consolidation that solidifies and perpetuates the need for its own continued existence as facilitator, in part so that it can continue to manage incoming funds. In a similar sense, although Tidal has in many ways opened up political analysis to more participants, its persistent role as the preeminent journal of theory for OWS means that it maintains its status as the most audible venue for discussing theory within Occupy. The persistence of the Strike Debt group and the Occupy “brand” through the Debt Resistor’s Operations Manual and into the Rolling Jubilee campaign has meant that some of the same organizations and individuals continue to lead new debt resistance projects. 7 Total debt forgiveness as of December 2013 according to the http://rollingjubilee.org/

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In the examples from the 15M, we find a messier situation. The collective that produced Rebelaos is now defunct, though some of the members continue to work in other projects, such as the Cooperativa Integral Catalana. This temporary convergence model is not exceptional, but consistent with the values of dispersion and individual initiative espoused by the publications themselves. Having researched, written, printed and distributed their intended product, the organization was dissolved. Derecho de Rebelión, the collective that produced the Manual de Desobediencia Económica was similarly deactivated after the distribution of the manual, proclaiming that updated versions of manuals (plural) will be written, funded and distributed “in parallel” and in “diverse territories”8 such that information for ongoing projects to take part in will be as relevant for local contexts as possible. This more dispersed, shifting model of constant coming-­together and dispersal is more similar to the molecular formations described by Deleuze and Guattari, where flux and not stability is valued, and social change is generated in the shifting between scales.

Conclusion: re-­calibrating the protest studies toolkit If we take these manuals seriously – as indicative of an under-­analyzed shift in direction within these particular mobilizations -­we are left with a re-­orientation to social change that breaks from those understandings that privilege the state as the most meaningful site of contestation. Emancipatory social change as imagined in these documents occurs through the re-­construction of personal and daily interactions. These changes are not only the means, but also the ends of organizing. To appreciate the possible implications of such a shift we can consider how it interrupts some of the key assumptions that underlie the study of collective action, specifically as they relate to our understandings of scale, stability, and success. A number of the articles discussed take on the common tendency among those who look at protest and social movements to consider tactics effective when change becomes visible at the state level -­when a government is toppled or takes a new form. Movement growth, the upward scaling of collective action or organization, is portrayed as not only good, but as necessary for qualifying a mobilization as successful. But need this be the case? More importantly, what do we miss by defaulting to the research unit of the nation-­state? Raúl Zibechi acknowledges some of the drawbacks of small-­scale politics: 8 For updates to the MDE see

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Organizing on the basis of modes of everyday life is slow, and using it to make decisions can be a time consuming process. It probably can’t be exercised much beyond local groups, where there is a lot of personal trust and many small, everyday interests in common (Zibechi, 2012: 309).

In the contexts of OWS and the 15M especially, activists seem increasingly willing to embrace the smallness of local assemblies and affinity groups, at the expense of maintaining large-­scale visibility. If the economic crisis is -­as many within these texts have claimed -­the result of people feeling that they have little or no control over the processes that shape their lives, then finding ways in which individuals can participate more fully might require moving to smaller scales of organization and staying there. If this were the case, and if we are to take protesters’ own goals seriously, then these smaller scale interactions would be any area where social scientists need to focus their attention. Asef Bayat’s concept of a “nonmovement” (2009) – the aggregation of quiet, small changes whose net effect is widespread social change, offers a useful conceptual tool for describing the proposed phenomena of the 15M and OWS. Bayat argues that the repressive legacy of authoritarian governments in the Middle East has meant that (until the Arab Uprisings of 20119) most progressive social change has taken place slowly and quietly, through dispersed and individualized direct actions, rather than cohesive, large-­scale social movements, as in the case of Latin America. Taking direct action towards “the redistribution of social goods” and “autonomy,” Bayat’s “marginals tend to function as much as possible outside the boundaries of the state and modern bureaucratic institutions, basing their relationships on reciprocity, trust and negotiation” (Bayat, 2009: 59). The 15M and OWS publications argue that opportunities for substantial political change are not currently available. Unlike the women, young people, and squatters Bayat discusses, the participants of the 15M and OWS mobilizations do have the ability to come together and to develop popular, oppositional subjectivities. However, the insulation of political decision-­making under the “dictatorship of the market” has made 99 percent of the population effectively marginal (according to 15M and OWS analyses). For this reason we can see a convergence across these 9 While Bayat’s formulation of social change could be critiqued for not anticipating the open dissent of millions in the Arab Spring, this exception may not contradict his point that seeming quiescence can erupt into acute moments of mobilization when previously disorganized populations crystallize around shared practices. Indeed, his analysis may help to explain some of the interesting synergies between as unlikely groups as middle-­class bloggers, football hooligans and pious religious youth, as see in Egypt’s Tahrir Square.

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otherwise disparate contexts, such that small-­scale everyday actions are seen as the most effective means of extracting oneself and one’s community from neoliberal subjugation. The modes of protest through withdrawal advocated in both settings also break, in significant ways, from the kinds of sustained movements that have sought to build power over time. As Sitrin has noted, participants in OWS and 15M, many inspired by earlier experiments in Argentina, have sought to cultivate an ethic of autogestión [self-­management], using forms of political and economic boycott targeting the moral economy as well as the cash economy (Sitrin, 2012). We should also consider how the do-­it-­yourself ethic, which itself has a long trajectory within contemporary counter-­cultural milieu, connecting the democratic impulse of collective self-­management to individualized lifestyle changes, informed by ideas of self-­sufficiency, ecological sensitivity and social justice (Holzman, Hughes & Van Meter, 2007). Rather than targeting political institutions, or even building their own alternative political institutions, activists envision themselves as changing their daily practices in such a way as to create new and more resilient “movement fields,” webs of meaning and material relations that would be able to continuously generate new projects through conversations between autonomous sites of resistance (Alvarez et al., 2012). The material focus on withdrawal, present in both OWS and 15M, seems to offer something different from the Gramscian project of building sustained power to challenge the hegemonic neoliberal state, as well as the orientation of many of the “new social movements” towards greater insitutional recognition. Activist-­theorists within Occupy Wall Street and the 15M have taken elements of the traditional social movement repertoire, particularly the boycott and general strike, and integrated them into an affinity or minimum-­ consensus based framework, one that embraces difference while holding on to the possibility of collective action, albeit at the cost of stability. This move might help us reflect on any assumptions that stability is inherently positive or required for substantial social change. As writer Suzahn E. argues, “A stable world is not necessarily a just world” (Occupy Theory, 2011: 7). Rejecting the creation of permanent political institutions means embracing the uncertainty of a continuous re-­shuffling of articulations between smaller groups, but it also provides a means for avoiding the kind of alienation that activists decry in current political economic configurations. For researchers, this means that the most visible, and most lasting organizations might not be the most useful to study, but rather the movement fields from which initiatives emerge and recede.

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Following a mass withdrawal conception of collective, political action, what “successful” political change looks like is not the amassing of forces, but a collective refusal and dispersion, the hemorrhaging of people and resources over time, out from what is referred to by both groups as “the system” and into small-­scale community projects of “mutual aid” -­a move that depends on a re-­ configuration of the moral economy related to what our responsibilities should be to each other. While the Spanish publications go further in piecing together an image of a post-­state and post-­capitalist society, both the Spanish and US cases seek to redefine what type of governance is permissible. Both reject debt as an individualizing form of subjugation, and seek to re-­define it as the starting place for a potentially revolutionary subjectivity. In rejecting debt, we can begin to imagine what forms the future political should take. The emphasis on producing “manuals” demonstrates a turn away from the formation of a singular, coherent “social movement” towards a do-­it-­yourself form of mass social change, in which participation through large-­scale assemblies is no longer necessary, or even desirable. More time spent in public demonstrations means less time involved in other projects. Accepting this view, the current lack of people in the street would not necessarily signal decline, but could be seen as the dispersal of attention to more localized and issue-­specific projects: things like neighborhood assemblies, anti-­debt campaigns, and storm-­relief efforts such as Occupy Hurricane Sandy. In the case of the 15M, the potential reconfiguration of social life into voluntary, task-­based aggregations redefines at what scale political organization would re-­emerge. The building of communities through “radical solidarity,” resulting in a multitude of alter-­civics denies a singular definition of the public. What qualities make up a civil society, are to be negotiated and renegotiated in local assemblies, by those who belong to each community. Activists calling for withdrawal from both the political and economic entanglements of the neoliberal state are responding to the conceptualization that it is not just the state, but also civil society that “disciplines subjects, regulates practices and brings forth political rationalities, moving us beyond the notion that movements resist governmentality while states promote it” (Alvarez et al., 2012: 16-­17). Having declared the current form of the state as un-­civic, activists are attempting to construct alternative civic spheres in which the state, as it exists now, has no place, in which the ethics of being-­in-­resistance and the self-­reorganization of daily lives circumscribe how political power can be constituted.

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Bibliography Afinidad Rebelde (2012) Rebelaos. Creative Commons. Available at: . Alvarez, S. E., Baiocchi, G. Laó-­Montes, A. Rubin, J.W. & Thayer, M. (2012) “Interrogating the Civil Society Agenda, Reassessing “Un-­Civic” Contention: An Introduction”. In: Alvarez, S. E., Baiocchi, G. Laó-­Montes, A. Rubin, J.W. and Thayer,  M. Interrogating the Civil Society Agenda: Social Movements, Civic Participation, and Democratic Innovation. Draft manuscript. Bayat, A. (2009) Life as Politics: How Ordinary People Change the Middle East. Cairo: The American University Press. Cruikshank, B. (1999) The Will to Empower: Democratic Citizens and Other Subjects. Cornell University Press, Ithaca, NY. Deleuze, G. & Guattari, F. (1987) A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Derecho de Rebelión (2012) Manual de Desobediencia Económica. Creative Commons. Feixa, C. (2012) The #spanishrevolution and Beyond. Hot Spots in Cultural Anthropology, 23 July. Available at: [Accessed June 2014]. Fraser, N. (1993) Rethinking the Public Sphere: A Contribution to the Critique of Actually Existing Democracy. In: Robbins, B. The Phantom Public Sphere. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Hardt,  M. & Negri,  A. (2000) Empire. Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press. Hessel, S. (2010) Indignez-­vous. Montepellier: Indigène. Holtzman, B., Hughes, C. and Van Meter, K. “Do it Yourself ” and the Movement Beyond Capitalism.” In Shukaitis,  S. Graeber,  D. and Biddle,  E. Constituent Imagination: Militant Investigation//Collective Theorization Occupy Theory (2011a) Tidal #1. Occupied Media: New York City. Available at: [Downloaded 29 June 2014]. Occupy Theory (2011b) Tidal #2. Occupied Media: New York City. Available at: [Downloaded 29 June 2014]. Occupy Theory (2012) Tidal #3. Occupied Media: New York City. Available at: [Downloaded 29 June 2014].

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Occupy Theory (2013) Tidal #4. Occupied Media: New York City. Available at: [Downloaded 29 June 2014]. Shulman,  G. (2011) “Interpreting Occupy in Occupy Movement.” Possible Futures: A Project of the Social Science Research Council. Available at: [Accessed 29 June 2014]. Strike Debt (2012) Debt Resistor’s Operations Manual. Creative Commons. Available at: [Downloaded 29 June 2014]. Wolford, W. (2010) This Land is Ours Now: Social Mobilization and the Meaning of Land in Brazil. Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2010. Zibechi, R (2012) Territories of Resistance: A Cartography of Latin American Social Movements. Oakland: AK Press.

Lucky Igohosa Ugbudian

Occupy Nigeria: Paradigm Shift in Mass Resistance Abstract Many of the recent studies of social movements in an African context have focused on the North African countries involved in the Arab Spring or on South Africa. Less attention has been given to the Sub-­Saharan countries. This chapter investigates the mass resistance emerging in early January 2012 under the heading Occupy Nigeria. Occupy Nigeria became a platform of non-­violent resistance for the reversal of the government policy through protesters occupying designated parks, squares, streets and roads in the federation. The author shows how organisation, mobilisation and sensitisation, as well as the nature of the mobilisation, constituted a paradigmatic shift from previous mass resistance.

Introduction Mass resistance has been in the Nigerian lexicon for over a century. Indeed it started in the colony of Lagos in late 19th century when the people rose against British imperial initiatives. In the subsequent years after the turn of the century and following the amalgamation of the Southern and Northern protectorates in 1914, thus emerged a country named Nigeria (Osaghae, 2003; Ikime 1980; Ugbudian 2011). Nigeria, located in the West African sub region is the most populous black country in the world with over one hundred and forty million people (NPC, 2006). It is a diverse and multi ethnic and cultural society comprising over two hundred and fifty ethnic groups with distinctive cultures and languages. The country gained political independence on 1 October, 1960 from the British. It practices a “Nigerianised” form of federalism with the central government located in the Federal Capital Territory (FCT) of Abuja. It is made up of thirty states, further broken down into seven hundred and seventy four local government areas constituting the component and constituent units. The country has natural resources in abundance including petroleum and gas in which she is the 9th largest producer in the world. Despite her huge petroleum and gas reserves, and production, she lacks the capacity to refine the products for local

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consumption hence the dependence on imports to augment the short falls. It must be said that until the 1980s the nation was able to meet her refined petroleum and gas needs. However, due to combination of bad governance, poor economic policy, corruption and so on the existing four refineries were neglected and new ones were not constructed. The consequence of the dependence on imported refined petroleum and gas products coupled with the World Bank and International Monetary Fund’s (IMF) imposed programme was an increment in the prices of the products that further impoverished the majority of the people (Aboluwade, 2012:15; Ugbudian, 2011; Osaghae, 2003). The 1 January, 2012 increment or what the government regarded as subsidy removal and deregulation drew widespread condemnation and spontaneous protests as on previous occasions, that culminated in the over a week long mass resistance (Dumo, 2012: 33-­34; Punch, 2012:18; Soriwei, 2012:11; Odebode, Adepegba, Nwogu, Adesomojo & Famutimi, 2-­4; Nigerian Tribune, 2012: 2-­54). The debate on subsidy removal and deregulation was ongoing without compromise by the parties, namely, the government on the one hand, and the people represented by organized labour and civil society groups on the other, thus making the sudden new year’s day announcement both shocking and strange to the people (Fagbemi & Ayeleso, 2012: 1-­4; Ogbodo, 2012:55; Babalola, Alechenu; Aboluwade, Utebor, Olatunji, Nwogu, Falayi & Sodiq, 2012: 2-­6; Odebode, Fabiyi, Soriwei, Alechenu & Adetayo, 2012: 4; Ayankola 2012: 4; Oshunkeye, 2012: 71). Following the government’s announcement through the price regulatory agency Petroleum Products Pricing Regulatory Agency (PPPRA) that the price of Premium Motor Spirit (PMS) had been increased from N65 to N141, a 116.9 percent rise, there were spontaneous protests across the states of the federation as prices of goods and services increased. The ground was thus prepared for the commencement of mass resistance organized by the organized labour, and civil society groups. 9 January, 2012 was chosen as the date for the indefinite mass resistance backed by industrial action. Indeed, the mass resistance which spanned more than a week, opened a new vista in the organization and sustaining of non-­ violent protests in the country (Odebode, Fabiyi, Soriwei, Alechenu & Adetayo, 2012: 4; Akpan-­Obong, 2012:14; Saludeen, 2012: 64). At this juncture, I must state that though the mass resistance occurred in states across the federation, the paper focuses on Lagos, the former capital, commercial, and industrial centre of the country, and the seat of the federal government, the Federal Capital Territory (FCT) Abuja. The choice of the two centres is largely due to the roles they both played and represented in the resistance. More so, both are microcosms of the country.

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Theoretical basis of the resistance Most events are predicated on certain grounds which help to trigger them. Thus theoretical frameworks are derived from practices. The theoretical bases which aptly describe the factors that precipitated the mass resistance in the country at the turn of the year, namely, 2012 are “Relative Deprivation”, and “Frustration” as well as the Occupy movement. Relative Deprivation assumes that when there is deprivation in society due to unequal access to socio-­ economic and political space, it results in conflict. In other words, in countries and societies where there are huge limitations on the access to the basic requirements for life including socio-­economic and political opportunities, there will be a high rate of conflicts occurring, including resistance. The Frustration-­ Aggression notion which is closely related to the foregoing, posits that conflicts such as mass resistance happen largely due to the long term buildup of frustration that arises in entrenched systems of socio-­economic and political inequality. Therefore, the frustration at a point in time is transformed into aggression which often results in resistance against the status quo (Usman, 1987; Enwerem, 1999; Ale 2009). Coupled with the foregoing was the Occupy Nigeria movement that spread like wild fire across the country. The Occupy movement has a long history as the precursor of occurrences which can be traced back to the global economic crisis that reached its peak in 2011. The harsh realities of the economic recession that were demonstrated in massive unemployment, debt and bleak future prospects especially among the younger population, led to a demand for change in the socio-­economic structure of the society. The term “Occupy movement” refers to the encampments by anti-­capitalist protesters over defined and certain geographical areas, that commenced with the occupation of Wall Street in the United States of America. According to James Clark, the Occupy movement is situated within the history of social movements that have been demonstrated in three ways. First, as describing ‘the process of taking up spaces’; secondly, as describing specific tactics of resistance; and thirdly, as describing the process of taking up time. In this regard, James Clark further posited that the Occupy movement has been in existence from the Palestine Intifada 1987 to the anti-­globalization protests of 1991 in Seattle as well as the anti–war in Iraq group of 2003. Ruth Milkman says the Occupy movement is a classic revolution of rising expectation that includes bleak socio-­economic and political prospects for the youth elements of populations that are being faced with daily limitations. Hence, the protesters felt abandoned by the political class in favour of the exploitative

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capitalists. Horizontalism, which refers to a form of consensus based on participatory democracy, became their guiding principle. The Occupy movement in its present form can be traced back to the socio-­ economic challenges occasioned by the global economic recession in 2011. The dislocation in the socio-­economic lives of particularly middle and low income earners as well as massive job losses made largely young educated professionals protest against the exploitation wrought by capitalism. The protests from the Wall Street occupation spread to Europe and other parts of the world with the “New Media” playing a major role in its coverage and reach. The Occupy movement that took on socio-­economic dimensions in the Western countries however assumed a broader template on the African continent, as it became a tool for the promotion of inclusive and responsive governance. Hence, the socio-­economic underpinning of the movement was further widened to include the demand for tenure. Democratic governance on the African continent consequently led to the emergence of the Arab Spring that resulted in the overthrowing of authoritarian rulers in Tunisia, Egypt and Libya. The direction of the movement on the African continent could be seen from the longstanding socio-­economic and political disillusion caused by limited opportunities, and the technology “savvy” people used social media to create an unprecedented mass mobilisation of the larger population. The Occupy Nigeria movement was also influenced in this regard and social media became a platform for mobilisation of the general public. The above explicitly captured Nigeria’s condition, where the majority of people live in abject poverty, while millions of them are jobless including graduates. A recent report by the National Bureau of Statistics (NBS), a federal government owned institution, put the unemployment rate at 21.9 percent and the poverty index at over 65 percent (Olawunmi, 2012; Okoli, 2012; Ale, 2009; Enwerem, 1999). A critical appraisal of the Nigerian situation will demonstrate the pathetic conditions as outlined above that represents a very significant part of the country’s population of 140 million. More so than the socio-­economic and political condition of the country is a fall out from long term bad governance including public corruption, electoral fraud, bogus salaries and allowances for government officials, abandonment of maintenance and provisions of basic social infrastructures such as refineries, education, health, roads, and so on by Nigerian political leaders and elites. Therefore, the announcement of fuel subsidy removal and deregulation was seen as a further worsening of their socio-­economic and political conditions, hence the resort to mass resistance against the policy direction of the government.

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History of the subsidy removal mass resistance It is pertinent to conceptualize mass resistance before proceeding to examine the history of mass resistance in Nigeria in general, and fuel subsidy in particular. There are numerous literatures on mass resistance; however for this paper mass resistance is defined as the frequency and rate of collective action aimed at socio-­economic and political objectives. Good examples are street demonstrations, boycotts, strikes, rallies, riots and so on. Mass resistance assumes socio-­economic and political complexity and purpose when the protesters make explicit demands for change in the access to socio-­economic and political opportunities (Bralton & Dewalle, 1997:128-­129). Mass resistance in Nigeria can be traced back to the colonial era beginning in Lagos when in the 19th century it rose against the socio-­economic as well as political policies of the British. In the colonial 20th century Nigeria this included various groups such as the women’s Aba and Egba riots, and labour, and nationalist struggles. This period first witnessed organized labour and diverse nationalist groups collaborating against the British colonial government, and thus organized labour provided its institutional structure for the nationalist struggles (Osaghae, 2003; Ugbudian, 2011; Crowder, 1966; Ikime, 1980; Dudley, 1973). The emergence of self-­governance in the country following the 1 October, 1960 independence has not reduced the occurrence of mass action based resistance in the country. From 1960 to 2012 there was a series of mass resistance activities against government policies, for instance, students and others demonstrated against a defence pact with Britain. At the same time, there was un-­ relenting and sustained mass resistance against the Ibrahim Babangida’s military regime following its adoption of the World Bank and International Monetary Fund’s (IMF) prescribed Structural Adjustment Programme (Osaghae, 2003; Best, 2000; Albert, 2001). The (SAP) programme had impoverished the larger populace and its impact is still being felt in the country. The period also witnessed major collaborations between civil society groups, professionals, religious bodies and organized labour following the annulment of the June 12, 1993 Presidential election that is regarded as the freest and fairest in the history of electoral process in the country. The collaboration led to mass demonstrations and industrial action by the organized labour groups that lasted over three months (Osaghae, 2003; Best, 2000; Albert, 2001). With regards to mass resistance against the fuel price increment, it has not been short in coming. Indeed the General Yakubu military regime marked the onset of frequent price adjustments of refined petroleum products. Thus from 1973 to 2012 the pump prices moved from 6k to N141; Gowon 6k to 9.5k;

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Obasanjo 9.5k-­15.3k; Babangida 15.3k-­70k; Shonekan 70k-­N5; Abacha N5-­N11; Abdusalami N11-­N20; Obasanjo N20-­N70; Yar’Adua N70-­N65; and Jonathan N65-­N141 (Punch, 2012). These increments, beginning in the 1980s due to slowed economic growth and the adoption of structural adjustment programme (SAP), whose central tenet was privatization and liberation, coupled with bad governance, made the impact of such price adjustments excruciating on the already impoverished masses. This made the people resolute in their resistance of such an act through mass action. This trend continued until the 1990s when there was unprecedented dependence on imported refined petroleum products. This dependence was due to sheer criminal neglect of local refineries, in the interests of importers who were cronies and friends of the heads of states (Ugbudian, 2011; Aboluwade, 2012; Odebode, Soriwei & Amaefule, 2012). It is instructive to note that Nigeria started to import refined petroleum products in 1981 when the government, in an attempt to attract investors, granted import licenses with crude oil allocation. However the process was abused leading to the total neglect of the infrastructures, namely, refineries, depots, pipelines and so on (Osaghae, 2003). Successive governments therefore began to tamper with the prices of the products in an attempt to enrich their cronies and friends who imported the products, hence the mass resistance. The return of democratic governance to the country in 1999 marked the onset of the fourth republic, which brought with it a new lexicon and resistance. The Obasanjo democratic government flirted with the idea of deregulating the downstream of the petroleum and gas sector. The regime’s idea of deregulation was more or less price increments as it rose from N20 in 1999 to N70 when Obasanjo left office in 2007. Yet the infrastructures were still unavailable and the promised objectives of the increment were largely unrealized. It must be said that the tenure of Obasanjo witnessed the highest turnout of mass resistance against the frequent price adjustments as the organized labour and professionals as well as civil societies formed a coaliation against the policy (Aboluwade, 2012; Odebode, Soriewi, & Amaefule, 2012; The Guardian 2012:11; Dumo, 2012).

Background to Occupy Nigeria President Goodluck Jonathan came into the limelight following the death of President Umaru Musa Yar’Adua and his subsequent assumption of office in May 2010 to complete his principal term (The Punch, 2012:18; Olumhense 2012:45). In the April 2012 presidential election Mr Goodluck Jonathan was

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overwhelmingly elected as president despite allegations of fraud in the South and South-­East of the nation’s six geo-­political zones (Albert, 2011). By October 2011 public debates among Nigerians and government officials began over the issue of deregulation and subsidy removal on fuel in the downstream of the oil sector. In the middle of December 2011 a town hall meeting was held in Lagos between government key officials, and organized labour and civil society representatives. The government was represented by the Finance Minister and head of the government economic team, Dr Ngozi Okonjo Iweala, the Minister of Petroleum, Mrs Diezani Alliason-­Maduetwe, and the Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN), governor, Mallam Lamido Sanusi. Organized labour and civil society were represented by Lagos based lawyers and human activists, Mr Femi Falana, and Mr Olisa Agbakoba; the president of Trade Union Congress of Nigeria (TUC) Mr Peter Esele, and the vice president of Nigerian Labour Congress (NLC), comrade Isa Aremu. Also in attendance were the former Nigerian Labour Congress President and Edo State Governor Comrade Adams Oshionhmole (Ugbudian, Forthcoming; Odebode, Soriwei and Amaefule, 2012). The government positions that informed the need for deregulation of the sector as posited by the government team were: 1. The unsustainability of the fuel subsidy payment of over N1.3 million. 2. Smuggling of products to neighbouring countries due to low prices. 3. Creating an enabling environment for private investors by the provision of refineries in the sector. 4. The use of the freed money for the provision of social services and infrastructures such as education, road, health care and so on. The organized labour and civil society organizations however submitted that some preconditions must be put in place, namely, the tackling of corruption in the sector. According to them the subsidy was paid for the government’s inefficiency and corruption by creating room for refined petrol importation through groups of investors referred to as ‘cabal’. Essential services and infrastructures were provided and constructed in the critical sector of the economy such as refineries, depots, pipelines, constant power, upgrading and construction of railways and reforming the transport sector (Bassey, 2012; Okoli, 2012; Fabiyi, 2012; Achebe, 2012). In subsequent weeks there were talks of further consultations with organized labour, civil societies, students, media executives, market leaders, the organized private sector, and other stakeholders for a compromised position by the federal government. This position was maintained in late December by the Minister of Information Mr Laboran Maku and the Group Managing Director of the Nigerian National Petroleum Corporation (NNPC) thus reinforcing the earlier position made by the Finance Minister and head of the economic team that a definite date for the implementation of the policy has not been decided (Fabiyi, 2012; Onkwukwe, 2012).

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Occupy nigeria mass resistance The prelude to the mass resistance that was termed Occupy Nigeria, which was a departure from previous protests in terms of organization, methodology and impact, was the statement by the Petroleum Products Pricing Regulatory Agency (PPPRA) increasing the price of Premium Motor Spirit (PMS) from N65 to N140. According to the PPPRA: [F]ollowing extensive consultations with stakeholders across the nation, the petroleum products pricing regulatory agency wishes to inform all stakeholders of the commencement of the formal removal of subsidy on premium motor spirit, (PMS), in accordance with the powers conferred on the agency by the law establishing it, in compliance with section 7 of PPPRA Act, 2004. By this announcement, the downstream sub-­sector of the petroleum industry is hereby deregulated for PMS. Service providers in the sector are now to procure products and sell the same in accordance with the indicative benchmark price to be published fortnightly and posted on the PPPRA website. Petroleum products marketers are to note that no one will be paid subsidy on PMS discharges after January 1, 2012 (Odebode Fabiyi, Soriwei, Alecheru & Adetayo, 2012:4).

The news was received with condemnation and spontaneous protests by millions of Nigerians and by the following day groups and organizations led by ci­vil society and labour embarked on sensitization street demonstrations, protests and rallies across the nation demanding the reversal of the policy. The mobilisation protests continued across the country until 9 January, the date that the organized labour fixed for the commencement of total nationwide industrial action that would include mass protests and rallies. According to the President of the Nigerian Labour congress (NLC), one of the two centrally organized labour bodies in the country, Mr Abdulwahed Omar, “NLC was collaborating with other mass oriented organizations to coordinate a struggle against the removal of subsidy… NLC, and those organizations would embark on mass protests, industrial actions, rallies and sustained sensitization of Nigerians, to resist the policy which is glaringly unpopular with the citizenry”. At the same time, the President General of the Trade Union Congress, Mr. Peter Esele posited that: [L]abour was left with no other option than to take steps to fight the action. Federal government did not engage Nigerians in constructive dialogue but opted for monologue on the removal of fuel subsidy. The TUC would call emergency meeting of its National Executive Council not later than seven days to take a decision on the subsidy removal. The impending action was not going to involve only labour but the entire citizenry where labour will provide a leadership for the struggle (Oyesola, 2012:31; see also Olawunmi, 2012:16; The Guardian 2012:11; Odebode, Fabiyi, Soriwei, Alechenu & Adetayo, 2012:4; Olayinka, Fanimo, Aduba, Okere & Salami, 2012).

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By 5 January, 2012 the organized labour in the country namely the Nigerian Labour Congress (NLC) and Trade Union held a separate National Executive Council Emerge meeting to discuss the subsidy removal. At the end of the meeting the two labour centres issued a joint resolution demanding a reversal of the price of PMS from N140 to N65 otherwise indefinite industrial action would commence on Monday 9 January 2012 (Oyesola, 2012; Olusola-­Obasa, 2012:7; Obayuwana, 2012). The government responded in a number of ways. First it took a legal position by approaching the National Industrial Court (NLC) to restrain the organized labour from embarking on industrial action which was obtained on the eve of the industrial action. Secondly, it made a national broadcast setting up two organizations, the Belgore negotiation committee charged with the responsibility of reconciling parties, and stakeholders. Also created was the Christopher Kolade’s subsidy reinvestment and empowerment programme (SURE-­P) to manage savings from the removal of subsidy. The President announced the slashing of 25 percent from the basic salaries of ministers and government officials, and the launch of 1600 mass transit buses for the country. Mention must be made of the lower chamber of the legislative arm; the House of Representatives that passed a resolution asking government to reverse the policy, while advising that organized labour should stop its proposed industrial action pending the intervention of its committee set up for that purpose. Labour and civil society groups regarded the government’s new position as a palliative measure; like medicine after death, it was pointless. They however commended the resolution of the House of Representatives. On the other hand, the government regarded any industrial action by the organized labour as illegal and would apply a “no work, no pay” rule while at the same time describing the House’s resolution as “merely advisory” and not binding (Fabiyi, 2012:17; Olusola-­Obasa, 2012:44). Following the diametrically opposed position held by the parties, the industrial action and mass rallies, protests and demonstrations commenced on 9 January 2012 across the nation in an unprecedented style hitherto unseen in the history of the country. The turnout was not only largely non violent and peaceful, but the organisation and mobilization strategies were a departure from previous mass resistance movements. Organization wise it was a paradigm shift from the hitherto system of sporadic and disorganized movement from one point to another that was strengthened and a new way was adopted, namely the creation of venues for easy access and convenience of the people. In Lagos there were centres in Ojota, Tafawa Balewa Square (TBS), Falomo, Pen Cinema-­ Ogba, Lasu-­Ojo-­Alaba and Iyana Ipaja while in Abuja the centres were located

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in the old Federal Secretariat and Area 1-­Garki (Oyesola, 2012:31; Bamidele, 2012:26; Dumo, 2012; Salaudeen, 2012; Onomo, 2012). At the same time, popular musicians, celebrities, academics, professionals, religious leaders and so on addressed the protesters at the venues. In addition, provision was made for food, water, drinks, and assorted goods vendors thus providing access to refreshment (Olusola-­Obasa & Balogun, 2012; Fumutimi, 2012; Adeniji & Azuh, 2012; Falayi, Adesomoju, Augoye & Famutimi, 2012; Dumo, 2012). This made the atmosphere electrifying and attractive to all ages and generations that attended the protests. Mobilization and sensitization aspects also demonstrated the revamping of old methodologies and the adoption of a new one. It must be said that the usual conventional mediums such as posters, hand bills, newspapers, television and so on were also manifestly used, while new forms, namely social and digital media such as Facebook, Twitter, YouTube and so on, were adopted to mobilize and educate the people on the decisions and plans of the organizers (Azuh 2012:3; Oshunkeye, 2012; Baiyewu, 2012; Amaetule, 2012,). Social media accounts such as Facebook, and Twitter and Blackberry messaging were used to trace the history and negative impacts of fuel price hikes in the country as well as the role of bad governance, corruption and maladministration of successive governments with regards to petroleum industry management in particular, and other sectors in general. Indeed, it was used to raise questions of what happen to the income realized from the deregulation of diesel and other products. Was the promise of investing in education, roads, health care, refineries, railway, and so on kept? Then why should it be believed now when previous governments could not deliver and squandered the money on frivolities (Amaetule, 2012; Azuh & Augoye, 2012; Azuh, 2012). At the same time the medium was used to inform the people of the consequence of accepting the policy, and show that if government can be overthrown as seen in the Arab spring then Nigerians can occupy the country to chart a new course. In a nutshell, the social media because of its reach and coverage as well as timely information on the state of affairs were able to bring thousands of people to join the peaceful occupation of the country. In addition, another revolution in the mass resistance was the nature of protest. It is instructive to note that there were always high incidences of violence in previous protests and demonstrations due to the manner of organization and the orientation of the state including the security operatives. However, in this case it was more or less peaceful as no incidence of violence was recorded at the venues of the mass resistance across Lagos and Abuja (Adetayo, 2012:43; Famutimi, 2012:17; Falayi, Adesomoju, Augoye & Famutimi, 2012:4; Onwukwe, 2012:37;

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Dumo, 2012). The non-­violent nature of the protests attracted the attendance of women including mothers, the elites and the middle classes as well as celebrities and professionals which was unprecedented in the history of the country.

Impact of the mass resistance? The impact of the mass resistance can largely been seen in the reaction of the President and the government officials on the key issues central to the resistance. At the onset of the mass resistance including industrial action by the organized labour, the government still maintained a defiant posture in spite of the intervention of the lower chambers of the National Assembly (legislature) demanding stoppage of the policy pending the resolution of contending issues. The government however began to shift ground largely based on two major factors (Dumo, 2012:33-­34). First, the dimension of the event by the christening of the mass resistance as Occupy Nigeria, coupled with the huge turn-­out of people as well as wide media coverage put the government in a dangerous defensive position. The government’s fears were derived from the messages coming from different speakers at the venues of the protests that demanded regime change through the will of the people. This position made the government accept the intervention of the National Assembly (Onwkwe, 2012:37; Dumo, 2012:33-­34; Oshunkeye, 2012:71; Fabiyi, 2012:17). In the same vein, the impact of the resistance made the government, indeed the president, offer some palliative measures, namely the provision of 1600 mass transit buses, mobilization of contractors to rehabilitate the major railway lines while a public work programme was expected to engage about 10,000 youths in every state of the federation, and the federal capital territory with the aim of creating an additional 370,000 jobs in the country. The president also made an attempt at addressing some of the issues of waste in governance made by labour by slashing 25 percent of the basic salaries of government officials, and the number of committees, commissions and parastatals with overlapping responsibilities was to be reviewed (Fabiyi 2012:17). Another impact of the mass resistance, which more or less changed the government’s position, was the daily loss of revenue estimated at over N617 billion by the Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN). This figure although conservative dealt a blow to the revenue generation of the government (Onwukwe 2012:37). The consequence of this was that government was ready to shift ground from its hitherto iron cast position of subsidy removal and deregulation leading to the reduction of the fuel price to N97 per litre.

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Conclusion In concluding this paper, I must say that the Occupy Nigeria mass resistance movement demonstrated the long held belief that power belongs to the people. The mass resistance created new frontiers while strengthening the old ones as well as shedding others. Therefore, the mass resistance redefined non-­violent demonstration in the country in terms of organization, mobilization and its nature, coupled with the impact. Prior to the mass resistance there was the general belief in government circles that due to the nature of employment of most Nigerians (daily earners) any mass resistance would not last more than two or three days as in previous cases. However, the manner of the organization and mobilization and sensitization, as well as its nature was a paradigm shift from previous mass resistance. In the same vein, it demonstrated that the government should always consult the people when taking critical policy desicions that affect their lives directly. Indeed, the Occupy Nigeria mass resistance has reawakened the government to the need to be responsible to the people as is seen in the ongoing probe of the fuel subsidy payment and reforms in the sector.

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Olusola-­Obasa, B. (2012) “Having fun at freedom park”, in The Punch (Lagos) 14 January: 18. Onomo, A. (2012) “People’s power is social”, in The Guardian (Lagos) 15 January: 38. Onwukwe,  D. (2012) “A strike of many dimensions”, in Daily Sun (Lagos) 16 January: 37. Otobo,  D. (1992) State and Industrial Relations in Nigeria. Lagos: Malthouse Press. Punch Graphics (2012) “Fuel subsidy is gone, petrol now N141”, in The Punch (Lagos) 2 January: 1. Rosali, J, Carrol, D. & Coate, R. (1990) “A Critical Assessment of the Power of Human Needs in World Society”, in Burton, J. and Dukes, F. (eds.) Conflict: Human Needs Theory. London: Macmillan. Ross, M. H. (1993) The Management of Conflict: Interpretations and Interest in Comparative Perspective. New Haven: Yale University Press. Rummel,  P.J. (1997) Conflict in Perspective Understanding of Conflict and War Vol. 3. Beverley Hill California: Sage Publishers. Saheed, O., (2004) “Labour Within Senate’s Shooting Range?”, in Nigerian Tribune (Ibadan) I6 October: 1-­2. Salamon, M. (1992) Industrial Relations: Theory and Practice. New York: Princeton University Press. Steve Omolade (2002) “ASUU Offers Alternatives to IMF Agenda, Seeks Debate”, in The Guardian, 13 March: 7. The Guardian (2012) “Why govt took the hard decision by minister”, in The Guardian (Lagos), 15 January: 1. The Punch (2012) “You can’t remove subsidy without first fighting corruption-­ Achebe”, in The Punch (Lagos) 12 January: 33. Tribune (2004) “21-­Day Strike”, in Nigerian Tribune (Ibadan), 7 June: 20. Ubeku, A. (1983) Industrial Relations in Developing Countries. The Case of Nigeria. London: Macmillan. Ugbudian, L.I. (2011a) Government-­Labour Conflict in the Downstream of the Petroleum and Gas Sector in Lagos State Nigeria. M.A dissertation submitted to the Department of Peace and Conflict Studies, University of Ibadan, Nigeria.

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Ugbudian, L. I. (2011b) New Trend in Government and Labour Relations in the Petroleum and Gas Industry in Nigerian Fourth Republic, paper presented at the Hans Bockler Stiftung Science Graduates Conference, University of Gottigen, Germany. Ukandi, D. & Fashoyin, T. (1986) Contemporary Problems in Industrial Relations in Nigeria. Lagos: Development Press. Webb, S. (1920) The History of Trade Unionism 1666-­1920. London: Longman. Yesufu, M. (1984) The Dynamics of Industrial Relations: The Nigerian Experience. Ibadan: Ibadan University Press. Yusufu,  M. (1987) An Introduction to Industrial Relations in Nigeria. Oxford: ­Oxford University Press.

Part III. Alternatives

Andrea Fumagalli

Commonwealth, Commonfare and the Money of Common: The Challenge to Fight Life Subsumption♥ Abstract With the crisis of the Taylorist-­Fordist paradigm and the shift to cognitive bio-­ capitalism, the Keynesian welfare state is progressively dismantled which affects the juridical definition of the common goods. Based on this diagnosis, the chapter argues that it is increasingly necessary and urgent to introduce a new idea of welfare. The alternative outlined is the commonfare characterised by two aspects. Firstly, the remuneration of social cooperation implies the introduction of unconditional basic income. Secondly, this relates to the management of the commonwealth and the common goods. Arguing that these two strategies are not sufficient to create an alternative, the chapter shows how dissent takes the shape of an alternative to the financial system as we know it.

Common goods and the commonwealth: cognitive biocapitalism as life subsumption of the commonwealth Common goods, the cognitive commonwealth and the re/productive commonwealth In the age of cognitive biocapitalism, education and relational networks are the bases of the accumulation and valorization process. These phenomena are, by definition, social in nature, i.e. they imply the development of social cooperation. Cognitive labour is organized horizontally, in teams, and not vertically. While in Taylorism workplaces were full of signs such as: “Silence, people at work”, in biocapitalism value is created by languages and communication.

♥ I thank Lorenzo Fé for the translation of the first paragraph. Psychedelic support by Grateful Dead, Jimi Hendrix, The Phish and Dream Syndicate is acknowledged.

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Let us remember Aristotle’s two famous definitions of the Homo Sapiens: “animal with language [logos]” and “political animal”. Animal with language: discourses made of words are part of our biological constitution and they qualify every kind of affection and perception. Political animal: trans-­individual (or, if you prefer, public) nature of the human mind, capacity to interact, cooperate, and adapt to the possible and the unforeseen. Well, I think the two ancient definitions perfectly express what should be understood as life-­put-­to-­work. The so-­called “professional qualifications” that the Postfordist worker, the “flexible man”, is required to have are the ability to signify/communicate and the ability to (inter)act (Vierno 2005; see also Virno 2004).

Language involves, simultaneously, sociality, creativity and performativity (Austin 1976; see also Marazzi 2002), as well as a necessity of codification. This codification represents the new form in which fixed capital is reincarnated. In fact – as we have argued – physical capital is shrinking, but this does not mean that the role of fixed capital is disappearing. In cognitive biocapitalism, knowledge, when it is separated from every product in which it was, is, or will be incorporated, i.e. when it is merely information and codified praxis of communication, can still carry on in itself a productive action, in the form of a standardized language, i.e. a software. In other words, knowledge can undertake the role of fixed capital (Marazzi 2005), becoming in this way some sort of “cognitive machine” which substitutes simple and complex living labour with stored labour (Stewart 2002). The construction of the software (as language) is based on the disbursement of living labour, which, as it turns into an instrument for the codification of language (“cognitive machine”), takes the form of dead labour, i.e. fixed capital. On the other hand, the word, by which I mean the art of communication, has a different function. In fact, it allows us to analyse the relationships among individuals not just as an instrument for its own sake but also as a productive/ performative social process (Stewart 2002). The word is the becoming of the language, language, in turn, is the codification and systematization of this social production and thus the regulation and normalization of the linguistic creativity of the subjects. So it is possible to affirm that the mechanic codification of the linguistic praxis, as a convention, is the mechanic element of bioeconomic production, that is, the fixed capital necessary to the valorization of the living labour of the word as an instrument of communication, relationships, and affections. Therefore, there is a dialectical relationship between word and language, between living labour and the dead labour incorporated in the body/human being itself. We can define this dialectical relationship as the commonwealth which is the outcome of the praxis of language and of the subjective and human relationships, or the combination of “animal with language” and “political animal” which defines

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human nature.1 If capital wants to keep its prerogative on the process of valorization of the commonwealth, it needs a new proprietary structure. The commonwealth is the basis of accumulation in cognitive biocapitalism. It can take many different shapes, depending on the modes of accumulation and on whether they are based on the exploitation of cognitive-­formative skills or of relational-­cooperative skills. For the moment, we can call the first case cognitive commonwealth, and the second case re/productive commonwealth. The commonwealth has nothing to do with the common goods; it is simply the expression of the social cooperation which is carried out in the general intellect. This distinction must be clear, because the expropriation of the commonwealth goes beyond the dichotomy of private property versus public property which is central to the problem of the management and use of the common goods (with privatization on one side, and state property on the other). In Italy, the so-­called “Rodotà Commission” for the reform of the Titolo II of the Libro III of the Italian Constitution, set up by Prodi’s government in 2007, ended its work on 22 April 2008. In its report, the concept of the common goods was for the first time defined in technical and legal terms: “omissis… b) Distinction of the goods in three categories: common goods, public goods, private goods. c) Institution of the category of the common goods, i.e. those things which express a utility functional to the fundamental rights and to the free development of a person. The common goods must be protected and safeguarded by the law, also to benefit the future generations. The owner of the common goods can be public or private. In any case, their collective fruition must be guaranteed, within the limits and according to the modalities established by the law. When the owners are public persons, the common goods are managed by public subjects and are positioned outside of the market; their concession is allowed only in the cases established by the law and for a limited duration, extensions are not allowed. Among the other things, common goods are: rivers, torrents and their springs, lakes and other waters; parks as defined by the law; forests and woods; high altitude mountain areas; glaciers and perpetual snow; beaches and those parts of the

1 This definition of commonwealth derives from Hardt and Negri’s definitions but, at the same time, it differs. Here, the concept is analyzed more from a socio-­economic point of view than from a political one. Hardt and Negri writes: “… (by) Commonwealth, we mean to indicate a return to some of the themes of classic treatises of government, exploring the institutional structure and political constitution of society. We also want to emphasize (…) the need to institute and manage a world of common wealth, focusing on and expanding our capacities for collective production and self-­ government” (Hardt & Negri 2009: xiii).

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coast that are declared nature reserves; wild fauna and protected flora; archaeological, cultural, and environmental goods and other protected landscape areas. The discipline of the common goods must be coordinated with that of the civic uses. Everybody has access to the legal protection of the rights related to the safeguard and the fruition of the common goods. With the exception of the legitimation cases for the protection of other rights and interests, only the State is legitimated to take action about the damages made to the common goods. The actions for the reversion of profits are also a prerogative of the State. The conditions and the modalities of the above-­mentioned actions will be defined by the delegated decree” (Mattei 2013).

The concept of the common goods does not exist in economics. Only recently, a few essays have introduced it, particularly in relation to the “knowledge” goods (e.g. Hess & Ostrom 2007). In traditional microeconomics, Paul  A. Samuelson has classified all the goods that can possibly be used by human beings as purely private or purely public (1954: 387-­389). On the basis of the exclusivity criterion, the economists tend towards a taxonomy centred on the high costs of exclusion. The criterion of use exclusivity (that is, exclusion of the other economic agents) justifies the right to private property, which protects a good or a resource from usage by another person (theft is thus the violation of an exclusivity right to private use). Let us remember that the exclusivity/exclusion parameter defines economic exchange as the transfer of property rights on a good or a resource from an individual to another in exchange for a positive price which is justified by the possibility to exact a right to private property. However, not all the goods and the resources available can be placed under some form of exclusivity. This depends on the existence of technological, social and natural constraints. Economists divide non-­exclusive goods and resources into two categories: pure public goods and free goods. Public goods are mainly services and resources: education and health, for instance, when supplied to an individual, do not exclude other individuals from benefiting from them. Library and irrigation services, or, more generally, the infrastructures necessary to social life (water and energy distribution networks, transport, information and communication networks, etc.) are not exclusive. These goods and services are normally publicly owned, however they can still be subject to privatization in some forms (e.g. the whole public utilities sector, from communication to transport). Moreover, public goods are not necessarily free of charge: access to them is open, but it is often conditional to some kind of pricing which is justified by the necessity to cover the costs of the service. In this case, then, pricing is not justified by exclusivity (and therefore by a real scarcity or by a scarcity created by private property) but by the costs of production.

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Free goods, instead, are those goods and resources that are so plentiful that it is impossible – within the given technological and environmental conditions – to institute a right to private property over them. They are mainly natural resources. A classic example is the air we breathe or the huge sea waters beyond territorial waters. Until recently, water was also considered to be a free good, however, today, after the privatization of the water distribution networks and the commodification of its supply, it is increasingly subject to artificial scarcity.2 The price of free goods is null: their fruition is open and free of charge. Finally, free goods have no property status. They are neither public nor private, they are a not property (Hardt 2010). In the mid-­70s, a second economic parameter was introduced in order to build a new taxonomy of economic goods and resources. The subtractability (also known as rivalry) criterion was added to the exclusivity criterion (Ostrom & Ostrom 1977). The subtractability criterion refers to the fact that the use of some goods subtracts part of their availability to other potential users. The subtractability parameter implies the existence of some form of scarcity and can be present even where there is no exclusivity. This is the case of many natural resources, for example water sources, haul in non-­territorial waters, forests, animals, etc. The existence of non-­exclusive but potentially rival natural resources has ­become a very strong argument against the idea of a common – but non-­state – property of these resources. This situation has been referred to as “the tragicomedy of the common goods” (Hess & Ostrom 2007: 13-­14) and it has to do with the problem of free riding, i.e. a situation in which it is possible to benefit from the common goods without contributing to their maintenance. For example, if herdsmen bring their heads of cattle to a common grazing with free access, acting in their own personal interest, the risk is that sooner or later the grazing will become unusable.3 However, this conclusion follows from the hypothesis of an instrumental rational behaviour based on mutual indifference which sees the problem of the common goods in terms of open access while ignoring common management. In doing so, such a hypothesis reaffirms and justifies the idea that the only solutions are private property or state property. In any case, the 2 The same fate may touch the air we breathe, if its abundance and availability were increasingly affected by pollution processes. In this way, the air could become a scarce resource. 3 “Ruin is the destination toward which all men rush, each pursuing his own best interest in a society that believes in the freedom of the common goods. Freedom in a common goods brings ruin to all” (Hardin 1962: 1244). See also Olson 1965.

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subtractability parameter, which implies the scarcity of resources, brings in the question of the regulation of the common goods. The taxonomy of private goods, public goods and free goods implies, from a juridical perspective, always and only two kinds of ownership: private and/or public. Free goods have no direct property status, they are simply characterized by open access and free of charge use. However, in the contemporary evolution of jurisprudence, in line with the development of a welfare system that guarantees some free of charge public services, free goods tend to be publicly managed. Thus it is necessary to distinguish between property and management. This substantial difference opens the yet unsolved question of the juridical definition of the common goods. Such a question becomes decisive when, with the crisis of the Taylorist-­Fordist paradigm and the shift to cognitive biocapitalism, the Keynesian welfare state is progressively dismantled. In fact, over the last thirty years, privatizations have strongly reduced the total amount of public goods. This process started in Italy with the 1992 liberalizations (transformation into SPAs, i.e. private law firms) and in Europe with the 1996 Cardiff Process. For example, private health and education services were put on the same level with the public ones in terms of costs for the users, through policies aiming to give an incentive to access them. Energy, transport and public utilities services were directly privatized. This process was made possible by a reduction in the exclusion costs, increasingly paid by the collectivity of the citizens, with the aim of favouring the development of private monopolies which have substituted the public ones, in the name of an assumed higher efficiency of private management. The current debate, as highlighted by the conclusions of the Rodotà Commission, starts from this consideration: many public and free goods are disappearing under the action of new “enclosure” processes. This is the case of water, of the securitization of some state properties or of the privatization and liberalization of public utilities. Therefore, the introduction of the common goods concept has nothing to do with the property status of the goods in question (which is still internal to the “public-­private” dichotomy), instead, it regards their fruition in terms of use value as opposed to exchange value, i.e. the modalities of their management. In fact, the question of management goes beyond the mere property status of these goods. Taking into consideration the natural common goods in conditions of scarcity, it is possible to hypothesize, regardless of their property status, that, beyond private and state management, there could be a community management. This would imply some form of self-­organization of the goods in question on the basis of participative decisional processes. Here starts the question of possible forms of self-­management of a welfare from below.

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In conclusion, we can affirm that an economic theory of the common goods is in fact a theory of their management, based on the hypotheses and on the empirical verifications regarding the behaviours of mutual solidarity among individuals in a socio-­economic context where the rationality of the homo oeconomicus does not exist (Hess & Ostrom 2007; on this topic see also Olson 1965) and where economic action aims at the production of use values rather than exchange values. In other words, the management of the common goods concerns the modalities of their use rather than the modalities of their production.

The commonwealth This preliminary conclusion is valid only when we deal with the common goods, whose production is “naturally” given and therefore subject to scarcity. However, very often in this debate, knowledge is defined as a common good. Knowledge would be a non-­scarce common good which becomes even more plentiful the more it is diffused through exchange. Often, the assimilation of knowledge to the common goods generates confusions and misunderstandings, since knowledge is also a factor of production, and this is not natural, as it is directly rooted in human existence. Furthermore, the exchange of knowledge is not rival. From this point of view, we can pose the question of its common management (which brings it close to the natural common goods) outside of any given property status which can be neither private (unless, as things are now, scarcity is artificially created through intellectual property rights) nor public (because knowledge is naturally personal and cannot be expropriated from the individual). Ostrom, in one of her most famous essays, titled Understanding Knowledge as a Common goods. From Theory to Practice (Hess & Ostrom 2011), proposes to consider knowledge as a common good, stressing the idea that knowledge is a commodity whose value is determined at the moment of exchange and on the basis of the regulation of intellectual property rights. However, Ostrom recognizes the role of knowledge not as a basic ingredient of the valorization process but as a social relation: Some view knowledge as polemical, in that it has “dual functions”—as a commodity and as a constitutive force of society. This dual functionality as a human need and an economic good immediately suggests the complex nature of this resource. Acquiring and discovering knowledge is both a social process and a deeply personal process (Ostrom, 2007: 15).

However, in Ostrom’s account, acknowledging the social nature of knowledge – which is expressed in the fact that only through its own socialization knowledge gains an exchange value – does not lead to it being considered as a source, among others, of valorization in contemporary capitalism, but rather opens the question

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of a common management of knowledge. Therefore, we are still within the common goods framework. Actually, as we will try to argue, knowledge cannot simply be reduced to a common good, it is rather an expression of the commonwealth. The commonwealth concept involves very different questions. Firstly, commonwealth is generally not affected by rivalry and thus by scarcity (the same cannot be said about the common goods). This is because – second difference – the commonwealth cannot be confined within a single good, it exceeds all goods, as it is part of human nature; although we could say that the commonwealth re/produces the goods. In this regard, we shall speak of re/productive commonwealth. The commonwealth is generally immaterial, it is the expression of the biopolitical existence of human beings and, as such, it is just as limited as human life. The commonwealth is made up of the vital and cognitive faculties of the human being, from knowledge to the body, from relations to sensations, from language to movement, from sensuality to thought: there is always a production of surplus that derives from the mere fact of existing. This is why the commonwealth pre-­ exists cognitive biocapitalism, just like surplus-­labour pre-­exists the capitalist production system. Biocapitalism can exploit the commonwealth only to some extent; this is why it needs a suitable proprietary structure to put the necessary dispositifs to work in order to expropriate and capture it. The governance of education and of social relations – here reductively understood as the two tips of the iceberg of the social production of the commonwealth – is functional to the valorization of the commonwealth. The valorization of the commonwealth needs two main processes: making scarce, by introducing rivalry, what is naturally not scarce in order to attach a value to it, and, having done so, perpetuating the enclosure. If we take, as an example of the commonwealth, the creation (through education) and the diffusion (through relations) of knowledge, it is necessary to introduce a new proprietary structure suitable to act on immaterial production. Private or public property of physical goods and/or of the fixed capital necessary to the accumulation process is no longer sufficient: in cognitive biocapitalism, fixed capital turns into a human cognitive machine (dead labour) which serves cognitive-­cerebral-­relational functions. It is not a case that intellectual property, whether privately or state managed, is the new frontier in the evolution of the proprietary structure and the most suitable to the cognitive biocapitalism paradigm. Contrary to Ostrom’s analysis, the exchange of knowledge becomes paradigmatic and contains the meaning of the commonwealth (but the same could be said about language, relational activities, care, sociality etc.). Knowledge arises as an individual (personal) resource which cannot be alienated from its bearer,

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regardless of the process which has individually produced it. As long as it is confined within a single person, it is only a use value and it is part of the human intellectual and working faculties. Knowledge is valorized when it becomes productive, that is, when it turns into an exchange value and takes a social and performative connotation (like in the case of language). Therefore knowledge, resulting from language, must become socialized in order to get valorized, that is, it must become “public”. This process must be controlled, and this is done – as we said before – through the artificial introduction of scarcity, thanks to intellectual property, which makes sure that knowledge is used in a rival and exclusive way. Knowledge, in fact, is naturally non-­rival as it is an immaterial resource. The more it is exchanged, the more it gets diffused, becoming increasingly plentiful. If this process was free, the price of reproduction of knowledge, having paid once and for all the production costs, would tend to be zero, which means that knowledge would become a free good, subject to a non-­property status. It would thus keep its use value. Intellectual property is therefore the tool for the transformation of knowledge into an exchange value, just like the wage system serves to obtain an exchange value out of labour force. We are dealing with a process of formal subsumption and, therefore, of exploitation. Knowledge, at the same time, could never be a public good owned by the state because, as it is naturally individual, it cannot be expropriated (while a piece of land or a machine could). The transformation of knowledge (and of other elements of human life too) into an exchange value, and therefore into a profit, is the outcome of a new primitive accumulation and thus of an exploitative process that is added to the traditional exploitation inherited from the real subsumption relative to the material-­Fordist paradigm. Intellectual property serves the expropriation of the commonwealth deriving from knowledge (i.e. cognitive commonwealth), but it does not produce it. It is not the outcome of a process of material or immaterial transformation from input to output, therefore the ensuing valorization assumes the form of a rent. Knowledge is just an input, a premise to a possible productive transformation. The exploitation of the cognitive common (i.e. the process of alienation of the use value of knowledge) in immaterial productions is added to the exploitation of the labour force typical of the capitalist system in the realm of material production, which Marx has already analyzed a long time ago. The cognitive division of labour, with its technical composition of knowledge, is added to the traditional technical division of labour, with its technical composition of living labour. Therefore, cognitive biocapitalism features a simultaneous presence of real and formal subsumption of labour to capital which we can call a

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life subsumption. The ensuing surplus value is still generated by surplus labour and by new forms of rent. Carlo Vercellone (2010) in the first place, and, later, Toni Negri, have described this situation with a useful phrase: “The becoming-­ rent of profit”. In an economy based on the propelling role of knowledge, there is a crisis in the law of value based on labour time. An implication of this crisis is that, because the direct labour time necessary to production is now very weak, there is the risk of a major reduction in the monetary value of production and thus of the profits attached to it. The outcome is that capital, in its attempt to forcedly maintain the pre-­eminence of exchange value and to safeguard profits, is pushed to develop a range of mechanisms towards a supply reduction (rarefaction) (Vercelonne 2009: 108).

What we have said about the exploitation of cognitive commonwealth and of knowledge can be extended to the other forms of commonwealth that produces exchange value in cognitive biocapitalism as an effect of a new primitive accumulation which, in turn, is the outcome of a widening of the production base. We are talking especially of two fundamental aspects of human life: the reproductive-­relational aspect, and the leisure and consumption aspect. In the first case, we see an increasing entry of care labour into the wage system, partially as an effect of immigration, which today is a fundamental characteristic of precarious labour (Morini 2002). We also see a “becoming productive of social reproduction” (Morini 2012: 41-­59), especially in the feminization of labour and in the role of social relations in the construction of productive social cooperation (Morini 2007; Morini 2010; Fumagalli & Morini 2013). Thanks to generalized precariousness, which has become a structural element of contemporary capitalism, the “labour-­becomes-­woman” (i.e. the fragmentary character of work and the complexity of the dependence/subsumption that women have experienced in various ages in the labour market) is now the dominant general paradigm, regardless of the gender of the individuals involved. In this sense, it is possible to argue that the figure of the social precarious worker today is female: in cognitive capitalism precariousness, mobility, and fragmentariness become the constitutive elements of the work of all subjects, regardless of their gender. The model which is coming to the fore is ductile and hyper-­flexible, and in this sense it has much in common with the female experience (Morini 2010).

As for entertainment and consumption, which until thirty years ago were consi­ dered as thoroughly unproductive for capitalist accumulation (i.e. non-­labour), we see a growing process of formal subsumption, which has the power to make these realms of human life productive of exchange value. This was unthinkable until recently. In the full development of cognitive biocapitalism, the act of consumption is no longer the destruction and annihilation of mercantile production,

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but it becomes a performative act (just like language and the production of knowledge) which supplies the standardized information that is essential in the digital and data-­mining age for the valorization process in the supply chain. The appearance of the figure of the prosumer4 is the direct expression of this situation. In this context, we also find a process of constant commodification and of increasing productivism of leisure time, which is formally considered as non-­ labour time and for this reason, is not remunerated. Increasingly often, social activities in free time (through real or virtual relations) become occasions for the indirect production of value or forms of investment for future valorization (Pasquinelli 2008). An example of this trend is the diffusion of the “happy hour” phenomenon which initially appeared in Milan in the 1980s: it is a time, from 7 pm to 10 pm, dedicated to aperitifs and snacks; it is apparently a time of relaxation, with its entertaining conversations. In reality, it is the continuation of the working day by other means, a time consecrated to developing connections and public relations, to showing off in order to obtain personal and professional self-­ valorization. It is not the case that this habit initially involved the so-­called “creative workers” in the immaterial tertiary sector, and later spread to all activities in the service sector. It is impossible to calculate the production of value generated by the happy hour, but it is certainly surplus labour in its purest form. It is part of the working day, which constitutes the basis of formal subsumption of labour to capital. The exploitation of the commonwealth, in its different articulations, is not limited to the process of formal subsumption but extends to real subsumption too. The process of real subsumption of the commonwealth consists in making communication, education and relations performative (i.e. productive), within a mix of manual and cognitive activities, control and planning, which necessarily entails specific skills relative to the technology in use. A process of specialized training becomes fundamental, permanent and continuous; its speed is correlated to that of the dynamism of technology. Today, enslavement to the machine passes through the brain as well as through the arms. In this context, the development of professional training does not require an autonomous cultural education. Individual knowledge is increasingly separated from the requirement of general (i.e. cultural) skills. As for intellectual labour, the impact of computer and linguistic technologies was even stronger. 4 The word “prosumer” derives from the crasis of “producer” and “consumer” and was created in 1980 by Alvin Toffler. In his book The Third Wave, Toffler predicted that the role of the producer and that of the consumer would start to merge. See also Curcio 2005; Codeluppi 2008.

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The main distinction between manual activities, which require a physical effort and are characterized by some degree of repetition, and intellectual-­relational activities, which are based on the action of the brain and on evaluations for individual and differentiated definitions, used to lie essentially in the impossibility to measure and valorize the latter in terms of product units and/or time (productivity of labour). In fact, in the case of intellectual/cognitive labour, the outcome of work used to depend on the degree of education, the cultural level, and the individual experience of the worker. The diffusion of language technologies allows for the control of intellectual performances in numerical terms. In the past, intellectual activities were evaluated when the performance was finished. Today, the codification of languages and of their formulation, on the one hand, and the standardization of the processes of immaterial production in pre-­determined and digitalized procedures, on the other, allows us to measure intellectual performance, step by step and at any moment. For example, today writing and programming activities are increasingly often being paid on the basis of the number of characters produced or following standard procedures in the periodical delivery of the outcomes. This allows for their measurement in terms of time units, rather than on the basis of their qualitative level. New measurements based on the logic of cost accounting have been introduced (working hours, characters per page, etc.), and they appear to treat labour as if it was performed in a production line. The standardization of communication procedures through information technology has recently brought about some kind of Taylorization of intellectual/cognitive labour. This implies the real subsumption of cognitive-­relational labour. Obviously, this reasoning cannot be applied to all intellectual activities. The phenomenon is more often present where skill and knowledge levels are diffuse and susceptible to codification, i.e. where the degree of “relative” specialization of knowledge is lower. As opposed to this, non-­codifiable knowledge is available to a select few in an almost exclusive way, it is tacit knowledge. However, generally speaking, we are able to observe the substantial emptying of intellectual activities engendered by their mechanization, which diminishes their results and their raison d’être (as well as their reward). Therefore, even in intellectual labour, “culture” is progressively losing its relevance to specific training.

The governance of the commonwealth The commonwealth, in its two main articulations (the re/productive commonwealth and the cognitive commonwealths), is the basis on which the process of life subsumption of labour to capital in the age of cognitive biocapitalism is articulated: it is a source of absolute as well as of relative surplus value. Its expropriation is achieved

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through different forms of communism of capital (Marazzi 2012), the forms of contemporary governance. Unlike the dispositif of social subjugation and subjection (but in line with them), this governance operates more at the macro-­economic level than at the individual level, especially by modifying the function of the State. In the last thirty years, we have witnessed the shift from the Keynesian idea of the State to the neoliberal idea, and we are now moving towards a new idea of state capitalism. In fact, with the shift from German ordo-­liberalism to American neoliberalism,5 what we see is not really a decline of the economic role of the state but a decline of its sovereignty as an economic agent external to the market. However, the loss of sovereignty of the state within the national domain (the crisis of the nation-­state), together with the crisis of the Taylorist-­Fordist-­Keynesian paradigm, does not mean that the State no longer performs an economic function. The subordination of the [State] administration and of welfare to the valorisation of capital, inaugurated by neoliberalism in the 1980s, does not lead to the minimal state but to a state which got rid of the hold of salaried workers, of the unemployed, of women, and of the poor on its social expenditures. The maximal State […] is perfectly compatible with neoliberalism. The shift in the balance of power which took place in the late 1970s gave to the liberals the possibility to use the functions of the state (lender of last resort, fiscal policies, redistributive policies, etc.) to their advantage (Lazzarato 2013: 84).

In the post-­war period and within the Fordist paradigm, the Keynesian State fulfilled the task of structural and super-­structural intermediation in the capital-­labour relationship: structural, as the guarantor of the Fordist social relations through its autonomy in the (monetary and fiscal) economic policy aiming to warrant mass production and mass consumption; super-­structural, as the holder of the monopoly of the disciplinary and juridical policies necessary to do this. With the crisis of the disciplinary society and the building of the security (and social-­control) society, coinciding with the emergence of a social subjectivity of production and with the development of the struggles of the 1960s, the action of the State no longer targeted a subject “detained” in factories, prisons or hospitals (as Foucault would have phrased it (Foucault 2005)); instead, it tended to function in the “open air” of society. There was a move from the control of the detained man to the control of the individual who becomes self-­responsible for his own destiny and thus tends to transform himself into the indebted man (Deleuze 2002). The neoliberal turn makes the role of the State ancillary to the market, to the promotion of the development of the market, supporting and stimulating the

5 Foucault analyses this shift in his lessons at the College de France (Foucault 2008). See also Dardot & Laval 2009.

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mechanisms of subjugation and subjection mentioned earlier at the macro-­social level rather than at the micro level. Thus, the national interest bows to the market interest. The essence of the security society is no longer finalized to the control of the economic and social functions of its classes (especially the subaltern classes) but to the control of the individuals, who are turned into “individual enterprises”.6 For instance, the currently dominant employment condition – the precarious condition – pushes every single precarious worker to become a “precarious-­enterprise”.7 These transformations open new theoretical and dialectical challenges and require the determination of a new “toolbox”. In particular, as far as the welfare system is concerned, the new perspective of political analysis refers to the overcoming or minimization of the two main forms of social oppression which today characterizes and affects the dependency and the blackmaility of free human activity to the unfair logic of capital and financial markets. This perspective is strongly associated with a degree of effective democracy in terms of the right to the choice, that is, real freedom and self-­determination.

Commonfare The transformations of the European labour market over the past two decades have made it increasingly urgent to redefine the welfare policies. This goal has not always been considered to be of central interest in alternative economic thinking. When the transformations occurred, they affected specific topics, such as the criticism of the privatization of public services or the need to introduce a minimum income or a conditioned basic income. The main cause of this failure to redefine welfare policies is to be found in the analytical interpretation of the current structural transformation, which has not yet become sufficiently adapted to the new needs and new requirements that have emerged since the crisis of the Fordist paradigm. I refer in particular to the analysis of both quantitative and qualitative aspects which today constitute and define labour performance. A little in-­depth analysis of these issues will not allow us to grasp the elements of novelty inherent in the precarious condition, a condition that the institutional leftist parties and organizations too often interpret as the dismantling of the simple form of stable and permanent employment caused by the decline of the labour bargaining power.

6 See Dardot and Laval 2009. 7 For a deeper analysis, see several articles on this topic published in the journal Quaderni di San Precario: www.quadernisanprecario.info.

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Moreover, the present crisis of the national welfare system is the result of the dependence of the State on the free-­market force resulting from the triumph of neoliberal theories. In the current socio-­economic debate, two conceptions of welfare in particular are attracting the attention of scholars and politicians: workfare and, alternatively, the Keynesian public welfare. Workfare is a non-­universal welfare system which is guaranteed only to those who have the financial means to pay for it. It is a self-­financed welfare system (as is the case of most European retirement systems today) which is particularly functional to the public balanced budget imposed by the Troika, hence to the adoption of austerity policies. Moreover, it is structured on the idea of providing aid as a last resort when existential conditions do not allow access to work, and access only to those rights that labour is able to provide. The idea of workfare is also complementary to the privatization policy of much of the public welfare, from health and education to retirement planning. Therefore, workfare is complementary to the principle of subsidiarity, according to which the State may take action only if and insofar as the objectives (social services) cannot be satisfactorily achieved in the private system. In this respect, the case of England is striking. In the name of freedom of choice of the citizens to choose between public and private service providers, healthcare and education are subsidized, and prescription charges and various tariffs are introduced with the result of increasing the costs of social services. In addition, workfare only has a partial and immediate target: those individuals who are outside of the labour market, such as the unemployed and low-­income retired people, risk to be excluded, and the social minimum support is based on a clear distinction between social and labour policies. The idea is still that of a purely Fordist system, with the addition of a neoliberal framework, the Anglo-­Saxon model: job incentives and a minimum welfare state. The same perspective applies to Italy. The public or Keynesian welfare state is, in part, the exact opposite. The State should take charge of universal intervention, guaranteeing to all citizens (which does not always coincide with the residents) some basic social services such as health, education and social security for everyone (from cradle to grave, according to the famous definition of the Beveridge Report of the Second World War). Then there would be space for private action. These two visions are followed by other visions that represent hybrid situations: on the one hand, the Scandinavian welfare that has introduced the policies of flexicurity, which are presented as a synthesis of the universalistic Keynesian welfare, but tailored to the needs of flexibility of the labour market; on the other hand, the Latin-­Mediterranean welfare, a mixture of workfare and selective welfare.

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Therefore, it is increasingly necessary and urgent to introduce a new idea of welfare, an idea that is able to deal with the two main elements that characterize the current phase of the “Western” capitalist countries: • Precarity and the debt condition as the dispositif of social control and dominance • The generation of wealth that arises from social cooperation and general intellect. Regarding the first point, labour is becoming more fragmented, not only from a legal point of view, but mainly from a qualitative and subjective point of view. Industrial wage workers are found in many parts of the globe but their numbers are declining in an almost irreversible way in Western countries in favour of a variegated multitude of atypical and precarious para-­subordinate and autonomous workers, whose organizational skills and representation are increasingly limited by the prevalence of individual bargaining. The primacy of the individual over the collective bargaining system empties the capacity of representation of the traditional trade unions. The attempt to recover this capacity through concertative tactics, has shown its limits, causing the distortion and transformion of the role of the Union into a dispositif of control and subalternity to business and financial interests in the name of economic compatibility. Furthermore, in times of crisis, the precarity condition is strengthened by the increase in debts, resulting in a vicious circle. Regarding the second issue, the production of wealth is no longer based solely on material production. The learning economies (generating knowledge) and network economies (which allow its diffusion, at different levels) now represent the variables that are at the origin of the increases in productivity: a productivity that increasingly derives from the direct exploitation/expropriation of the commonwealth and from the privatization of common goods. It follows, in this context, that a redefinition of welfare policy should enable a response to the unstable trade-­off inside the accumulation process of cognitive biocapitalism: the negative relationship between life precarity and social cooperation. More particularly, it is necessary to remunerate social cooperation, on the one hand, and favour forms of social production, on the other. These two aspects constitute the two main pillars of what some scholars define as commonfare.

Basic Income The remuneration of social cooperation implies the introduction of an individual, unconditional basic income for everyone who lives in the territory regardless

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of his/her professional and civil status. The unconditional basic income (UBI) should be understood as a kind of monetary compensation (remuneration) for the social productivity and of productive time which are not certified by the existing labour contracts. It occurs at the primary level of income distribution (it is a primary income), hence it cannot be considered merely as a welfare intervention, according to both workfare and Keynesian logic. This measure should be accompanied by the introduction of a minimum wage, in order to avoid a substitution effect (dumping) between basic income and the same wages in favour of firms and to the detriment of the workers. Basic income together with a minimum wage makes it possible to expand the range of choices in the labour market, i.e., to refuse a “bad” job” and then modify the labour conditions of that job. The unconditional possibility of refusal of labour opens up perspectives of liberation that go far beyond the simple distributive measure.

The managing of common goods and commonwealth The second pillar concerns the managing of both common goods and com­mon­wealth. In fact, the idea of commonfare implies, as a prerequisite, the social re-­ appropriation of the gains arising from the exploitation of commonwealth that are the basis of accumulation today. This re-­appropriation does not necessarily lead to the transition from private to public ownership. As previously discussed, we need to distinguish between common goods and commonwealth. As regards basic services such as healthcare or education or mobility, which are now increasingly privatized, the goal is to provide the public management of their supply as use value against any attempt of commodification. But if we refer to commonwealth, the framework is different since the fruit of social cooperation and general intellect are neither private nor public goods. The only way to manage commonwealth is by self-­organization, by imagining a different régime of valorization based on what Marazzi calls “a production of human beings in favour of human beings” (Marazzi 2000: 117). To be more specific, as far as reappropriation of common goods is concerned, the proposal of commonfare today means to baste a policy: • able to “free” from the hierarchy imposed by economic oligarchy commodities and utilities which were subject in the last 20 years to extensive privatization as a consequence of the Cardiff Process (1996) on the regulation of the market for goods and services (access to common material goods) • able to provide an institution of the commons, at local level, regarding essential common goods such as water, energy and environmental

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sustainability through forms of Municipalism from the bottom (the democratic principle). • able to guarantee free transport and housing. As far as commonwealth is concerned, we need a policy: • able to reduce intellectual property rights and patent laws in favour of greater freedom of the circulation of knowledge and to acquire free information infrastructures, through appropriate and innovative industrial policies. At the same time, it should be able to guarantee a self-­organized and free education process (a cognitive commonwealth). • able to provide every means necessary to build up relational activities, care provision, health insurances, free access to the Internet (breaking monopolies) (a reproductive commonwealth) The following table summarizes what has been discussed: Table 1: Commonfare policy Social needs Income stability

Instrument to implement in order to achieve them Unconditional Basic Income

Education

Public and self-­organized education centres at Universities

Information and communication

Free access to information and knowledge, through free availability of an immaterial infrastructure (Wi-­Fi, network, open-­source etc.). Removal of intellectual property rights and their regulation

Health

Right to free health and care systems

Housing

Guaranteed housing: an opportunity for everyone to have a space for the creation and organization of their own lives

Mobility

Low-­cost or free public transport services, free circulation of bodies in the territory: no borders.

The money of the commons and the re-­appropriation of the commonwealth The policies previously discussed are not sufficient for the re-­appropriation of the commonwealth. It is necessary to define the means which allow these policies to operate effectively. We wrote that: The commonwealth is generally immaterial, it is the expression of the biopolitical existence of human beings and, as such, it is just as limited as human life. The commonwealth

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is made up of the vital and cognitive faculties of the human being, from knowledge to the body, from relations to sensations, from language to movement, from sensuality to thought: there is always a production of surplus that derives from the mere fact of existing.

And then we added: The commonwealth, in its two main articulations (the re/productive and the cognitive commonwealths), is the basis on which the process of life subsumption of labour to capital in the age of cognitive-­biocapitalism is articulated: it is a source of absolute as well as of relative surplus value.

Appropriation of the commonwealth means the appropriation of the relative and absolute surplus-­values generated by life subsumption. This implies that it is necessary to go beyond the capitalistic stage towards new forms of life organization, without the production of exchange-­values. From this point of view, if it is not merely reduced to the managing and supply of common goods, commonfare is a revolutionary proposal. The core of the exploitation process lies today in the financial markets and in their power to create money as a pure sign (Fumagalli & Mezzadra 2010; and especially Lucarelli 2010). It follows that it is necessary to build up an alternative macro-­financial circuit, autonomous of the dominant financial oligarchy. To achieve this goal, we need to create two instruments, which are strictly interrelated: a financial institution of the commonwealth and money of the commonwealth (i.e. the money of the common) The money of the common should be characterized by the following parameters (Griziotti 2014; Baronian & Vercellone 2014; Fumagalli 2014): A. it cannot be cumulative and cannot become the subject of speculation. In consequence, it must lose a part of its value over time. Melting or burning of money will therefore take place. B. it will mitigate the dependence of workers from the economic constraints of the sale of their labour force and therefore the wage relation, i.e. reducing precariousness. C. it will, on this basis, allow the freeing up of time and resources to develop alternative forms of cooperation based on the pooling of knowledge, and the results of the production, however, on exchange networks that exclude the logic of profit. Participation in the network in which the circulating money of the common takes place constitutes adherence to these principles, whether the participants are individuals, companies or institutional actors. D. to be a non-­property. These four parameters imply that the way in which the money of the commonwealth enters into the economic process is not through the exchange or financial

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activity (as means of payment or accumulation of value), but through the financing of production activity (be it material or immaterial). More specifically, the money of the common can represent an alternative to the monetary and financial production economy if it is used primarily as a monetary payment of social (re)production and general intellect maybe, at the beginning and in a complementary way, enabling an increase in wages, paid in traditional money. In cognitive biocapitalism, financial markets are able to create liquidity in order to finance investment activity and consumption and to directly intervene in income distribution. The result is an increasing degree of inequality, which is sustainable until the financial multiplier effect (via capital gains) on aggregate demand compensates the worsening of the same income distribution. This is an unsustainable condition, since financial markets cannot grow indefinitely. This is the macroeconomic role played by finance money. The money of the common should substitute finance money. This means that the money of the common should re-­create a different economic circuit in which material and immaterial production is no longer financed by the financial and credit markets. From this point of view, the simplest method is to imagine a sort of community financial institution, able to generate no property money under the community supervision in a democratic way which is irreducible and irreconcilable with the traditional financial hierarchies. The possible framework can be illustrated as follows: Figure 1: Alternative financial – production framework Commonfare (basic income, free access to public utilities, housing, education, health)

Municipality/ Community/ State balance

Social services Financial institution of the common

Money of the commonwealth

Investment in use values Monetary wages

Remuneration of general intellect, social (re)production and consumption

Anthropogenetic model of human production for human beings

Learning and network economies (free social cooperation)

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The aim of this alternative financial circuit is to provide financing for the developing of social services, the production of use values (non-­profit organization), remunerating social cooperation. The production by human beings in favour of human beings, outside of exchange values, can represent, now and soon, an emerging experiment of an alternative way of living, without depending on external financial constraints. We are aware that this alternative financial production model cannot, at the moment, substitute the traditional model. It is complementary. But it is able to open a free space for a non-­commodified and non-­profit oriented production. It can be an opportunity to begin a production of the commonwealth. Since the commonwealth is already among us.

Bibliography Austin, J. L. (1976) How to Do Things with Words. London: Oxford University Press. Baronian, L & Vercellone C. (2014) “Moneta del comune e reddito sociale garantito”, Effimera http://quaderni.sanprecario.info/2013/09/moneta-­del-­comunee­ -­reddito-­sociale-­garantito/ Codeluppi, V. (2008) Il biocapitalismo. Turin: Bollati Boringhieri. Curcio, R. (2005) Il consumatore lavorato, Sensibili alle Foglie, Dogliani (CN). Dardot, P. & Laval, C. (2009) La nouvelle raison du monde. Essai sur la société néolibérale. Paris: La Decouverte. Deleuze, G. (2002) Nietsche and philosophy. New York: Continuum. Foucault, M. (2005) Nascita della biopolitica. Milan: Feltrinelli. Foucault,  M. (2008) The Birth of Biopolitics. Lectures at the Collège de France 1978-­79, edited by Michel Senellart. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Fumagalli,  A. (2014) “Digital (crypto)money and alternative financial circuits: lead the attack to the heart of the State, sorry, of financial market”, Effomera: http://quaderni.sanprecario.info/2014/02/digital-­crypto-­money-­and-­ alternative-­f inancial-­c ircuits-­l ead-­t he-­attack-­to-­t he-­heart-­of-­t he-­state-­ sorry-­of-­financial-­market-­by-­andrea-­fumagalli/ Fumagalli,  A. & Mezzadra,  S. (2010) Crisis in the Global Economy: Financial Markets, Social Struggles, and New Political Scenarios. Boston: Semiotex(t)e. Fumagalli,  A. & Griziotti,  G. (2014) “Bio rank: algoritmi e trasformazioni del bios nel capitalismo cognitive”, Effimera: http://quaderni.sanprecario.

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info/2014/06/biorank-­vs-­commoncoin-­algorithms-­and-­crypto-­currencies-­ in-­the-­bios-­of-­cognitive-­capitalism-­di-­giorgio-­griziotti-­and-­carlo-­vercellone/ Fumagalli, A. & Morini, C. (2013) “Cognitive Bio-­capitalism, social reproduction and the precarity trap: why not basic income?”, in Knowledge Cultures, Vol. 1(4): 106-­126. Hardin,  G. (1962) “The tragedy of the Common goods”, in Science, Vol. 162 (3859): 1243-­1248 Hess,  C. & Ostrom,  E. (eds) (2007) Understanding Knowledge As a Common goods. Cambridge: MIT Press. Hardt, M. (2010) in the UniNomade seminar, Milan. Hardt,  M. & Negri,  A. (2009) Commonwealth. Harvard: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. Lazzarato, M. (2013) The Making of the Indebted Man: Essay on the Neoliberal Conditions. Boston: Semiotext(e). Lucarelli, S. (2010) “Financialization as bio-­power”, in Fumagalli, A., Mezzadra, S., Crisis in the Global Economy: Financial Markets, Social Struggles, and New Political Scenarios. Boston: Semiotex(t)e: 119-­138. Marazzi, C. (2000) “Capitalismo digitale e modello antropogenetico del lavoro. L’ammortamen-­to del corpo macchina”, in Laville J. L., Marazzi C., La Rosa M., Chicchi F. (a cura di), Reinventare il lavoro. Rome: Sapere. Marazzi, C. (2002) Linguaggio e capital. Rome: Derive Approdi. Marazzi, C. (2012) Il comunismo del capitale. Verona: Ombre Corte. Mattei,  U. (2013) “Beni comuni2”: http://europassignano2013.wordpress. com/2013/08/18/ beni-­comuni-­ugo-­mattei/ Morini,  C. (2002) La serve serve. Le nuove forzate del lavoro domestic. Rome: DeriveApprodi. Morini, C. (2007) “Riproduzione sociale” in Quaderni di San Precario, 4: 41-­59. Morini, C. (2007) “The feminization of labour in cognitive capitalism”, in Feminist Review, vol. 87: 40–59. Morini, C. (2010) Per amore o per forza. Femminilizzazione del lavoro e biopolitiche del corpo. Verona: Ombre Corte. Olson, M. (1965) The logic of Collective Action: Public goods and The Theory of Groups. New York: Schocken Books.

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Ostrom, E. (2007) “Introduction” in E. Ostrom and C. Hess (eds), Understanding Knowledge As a Common goods. Cambridge MIT Press. Ostrom, E. & Ostrom, V. (977) “Public goods and Public Choices” in E. S. Savas (ed.), Alternatives for Delivering Public Services: Towards Improved Performance. Boulder Westview Press: 7-­49. Pasquinelli, M. (2008) Animal Spirits: A Bestiary of the Common goods. Rotterdam: NAi Publishers. Samuelson, P. A. (1954) “The Pure Theory of Public Expenditure” in Review of Economics and Statistics, vol. 36: 387-­389. Stewart,  T. A. (2002) The Wealth of Knowledge: Intellectual Capital and the Twenty-­first Century Organization. New York: Currency Books. Toffler, A. (1980) The Third Wave. New York: Bantham Books. Vercellone, C. (2010) “The Crisis of the Law of Value and the Becoming-­Rent of Profit” in Fumagalli, A., Mezzadra, S., Crisis in the Global Economy: Financial Markets, Social Struggles, and New Political Scenarios. Boston: Semiotex(t)e: 85-­118. Vercellone, C. (2009) “Rendita”, in C. Vercellone et al., Lessico marxiano. Rome: Manifestolibri. Virno,  P. (2005) “Un movimento performativo”, April 2005: http://republicart. net/disc/precariat /virno01_it.htm Virno, P. (2004) A Grammar of the Multitude. Boston: Semiotext(e).

Erik Christensen & Christian Ydesen

Creating a Network of Dissent – The Heretical Idea of Basic income Abstract The idea of a basic income is characterized by its ability to transcend the topo­ graphy of the established political landscape. Using the Danish discursive political landscape as an empirical case, we aim at showing the potential of the basic income idea for cutting across the poles of the contemporary political topography and manifest itself as a viable and forceful political idea. In order to do this we draw on the theoretical framework of the Norwegian philosopher of law Thomas Mathiesen and the Latin-­American philosopher Enrique Dussel. The chapter inquiries into what has characterised the discursive struggle for basic income in Denmark.

Introduction A basic income is defined as an income unconditionally granted to all on an individual basis, without a means test or work requirement.1 But apart from the various basic income schemes and experiments of Brazil, Iran, India and Alaska, the idea of a basic income has increasingly been forced to sustain an existence in the periphery of political ideas (Christensen & Ydesen, 2012). Being mainly a result of neoliberal discursive hegemony, this marginalisation of the concept is driven by values of ultimate individual responsibility for one’s own life situation, individual freedom and contempt for spending what is held to be essentially other people’s money. But that does not mean that the idea of basic income is becoming obsolete. While working for the implementation of basic income all over the world, the global and expanding organization Basic Income Earth Network (BIEN), has endeavoured to show how a basic income would mitigate and perhaps even help to overcome the many negative aspects of the current world economic crisis (e.g. Standing, 2009; Fumagalli, 2013). This initiative comes into play at a time when an increasing number of people find themselves in a position of labour and life

1 www.basicincome.org

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precarity as a result of restrictive social policies and austerity measures as well as the seemingly logical priority of national and corporate competitiveness over labour interests (Standing, 2011; Wacquant, 2008; 2009). In other words, the material conditions of the present economic and social order are changing rapidly, creating a new topography in which basic income may be seen as a valuable tool for escaping the precarity trap (Fumagalli, 2013: 73ff.). At an ideological level, it is worth noting that basic income has been proposed by both liberals and socialists (Fitzpatrick, 1999). Hence, basic income intrinsically holds a potential appeal to a variety of groups in the political landscape. The idea of basic income contains clear liberal elements in that it not only creates formal freedom but also provides the basis for substantive freedom with the possibility of maximum freedom to shape one’s own life. An additional liberal element is the potential for creating a new kind of political equality -­the creation of just democratic citizenship (as suggested by Th. Marshall). Finally, basic income increases labour market flexibility. The guaranteed safety net creates greater opportunities for mobility and the upgrading of skills in the workforce. From a socialist perspective, basic income carries an appeal because it strengthens labour relative to capital. In a system of basic income, workers are no longer forced to sell their labour because basic income covers the subsistence level. This results in the decommodification of labour, and at the same time basic income will also lead to the strengthening of civil society, because unpaid work for your community and family would be upgraded and held in higher esteem (Van Parijs, 1995). From this starting point, it is relevant to show the potential of the basic income idea for cutting across the poles of the contemporary political topography and manifesting itself as a viable and forceful political idea. To this end, we use the Danish discursive political landscape from the 1970s until the 1990s as an empirical case. In a diachronic perspective, the Danish case highlights all the contradictions mentioned above: neoliberal tendencies versus universal welfare state elements, increasing levels of social inequality (precarity) and an oscillating popularity of the life cycle of basic income in the Danish political landscape with mixed roles played by both liberals and socialists. Since the end of World War II, Denmark has been a universal social demo­ cratic welfare state model characterised by relatively large universality and financed by general taxes. In this connection, basic income may be regarded as the ultimate universal welfare state model. The institutional structure of the various welfare regimes is responsible for the public view of the welfare client (the poor and the unemployed). Thus, the logic of universalism tends to suppress the discussion of deservingness criteria (control, need, identity, attitude

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and reciprocity). Instead of defining a line between ‘them’ and ‘us’, universal benefits and services actually help define everybody within the nation-­state as belonging to one group. The vicious circle of selective welfare policy is replaced by a positive circle (Larsen, 2007: 153). What this means is that, in theory, a universal social democratic welfare regime tends to move towards a pure basic income system.

Outlining the danish case In Denmark, basic income has been on the political agenda twice since the idea was introduced with the book Revolt from the Centre [“Oprør fra midten”] in 1978. The first time was at the beginning of the 1980s, and the second time was in the early 1990s. The book Revolt from the Centre was a tremendous success (in a few years it was published in more than 100,000 copies in a country with a population of 5 million), so the authors decided to form a new grassroots movement ‘The Revolt from the Centre Movement’ [midteroprørsbevægelsen], which in the beginning gained some support (about 5,000 subscribers to their periodical). Much to the surprise of the founders, the most popular element in their utopia was the idea of a basic income (Christensen, 2008). However, in the climate of emerging neoliberalism, the ‘The Revolt from the Centre Movement’ lost its support in the late 1980s, and the basic income idea disappeared from the political agenda. However, the idea surprisingly returned to the political agenda in the 1990s, particularly in 1992 to 1994, this time with new actors on the scene, some of which were people who had been excluded from the labour market. The turmoil characteristic of the basic income movement in Denmark since the 1970s testifies to internal struggles between ideological elements within the main political parties. In order to understand the negative stance towards basic income, it is necessary to draw attention to the liberals’ downplaying of the principle of state neutrality vis-­à-­vis life forms; the life form of paid labour takes a priority position. And although liberals are in favour of the freedom of choice, this does not apply to the labour market with its expensive and ineffective labour market policies of monitoring and activating the unemployed, to the detriment of other liberal ideas such as a cheap and efficient public sector and the creation of a flexible labour market. In the social democratic camp, the idea of improving the conditions for the workers and creating labour market security is abandoned, to the benefit of the idea of citizens’ duties to work, no matter the pay or the job. Thus, the creation of

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a new workfare policy in the 1990s led to a new consensus of a reduction in transfer payments, an increase in control, and a tightening of the work obligation. The foundation for a new competition state was laid (Pedersen, 2010). The welfare state was essentially a distribution state striving to create community through equality. The competition state, on the other hand, seeks to create community through work. This means that the welfare state sought to eliminate inequalities and differences, whereas the new competitive state creates rights and duties in a hierarchy based on the level of self-­sufficiency. The key is not citizenship, but employability, being in work, being on the labour market. The fundamental class division is between those in employment and those who are outside. Therefore, a form of compulsory labour and education with a combination of educational motivation, financial incentives, and administrative penalties is introduced in the competition state. Using the Danish discursive political landscape as an empirical case we intend to illuminate the strength of a basic income manifesting itself as a viable and forceful political idea. This overall question may be divided into several sub-­questions, which are useful as points of orientation when conducting the analysis: -­ Why and how was the basic income idea able to re-­emerge on the political agenda in Denmark? -­ Why and how has the basic income idea been in/excluded from the political agenda? -­ How does a social movement avoid being included (absorbed) in the dominant discourse, and how does it avoid being altogether excluded from the political scene? -­ In a short-­term perspective: How can an independent basic income movement of dissent gain influence in the neoliberal workfare hegemony? -­ In a long-­term perspective: How can the basic income movement form alliances with other social movements and form an anti-­hegemonic bloc? In order to work with these questions, we draw on the theoretical framework of the Norwegian philosopher of law Thomas Mathiesen and the Latin-­American philosopher Enrique Dussel. Mathiesen mainly gains relevance in the short-­term perspective with his work on inclusion and exclusion of dissenting ideas and movements in relation to the hegemonic political discourse. Besides being an advocate of basic income, Dussel is relevant in the long-­term perspective with his critical political philosophy in which the concept of an analogous hegemon plays an important part (Dussel, 2008: 118). For a common methodological framework, we draw on a discourse-­analytical perspective inspired by Norman Fairclough (1992).

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A political discourse is defined as a framework of understanding for action for political actors. The main function of a political discourse is to create understanding and support from actors for certain political solutions to the exclusion of other undesired solutions. It is a process of inclusion and exclusion of discourses out of which a hegemonic discourse finally evolves. Hence, political discourses can only be understood in relation to other discourses, and likewise, the basic income discourse in the early 1990s can only be understood in relation to the new activation or workfare discourse of that period. Society may be seen as a hegemonic community, held together by a hegemonic political discourse. This discourse reproduces and transforms society in an antagonistic interplay with other discourses. In general, politics deals with the articulation of specific interests and the exclusion of rival interests. As a rule, it is only by creating alliances between actors, by establishing a hegemonic project, that social power can be maintained. And a hegemonic project must be supported by a hegemonic discourse. These musings make it possible to structure the article with first, an introduction of Mathiesen’s theoretical framework. Then follows an analysis of the Danish debate on basic income in the 1970s and 1980s, using this framework. The next step is to introduce the relevant parts of Dussel’s critical political philosophy and subsequently to analyse the Danish 1990s debate on basic income, using a combination of Mathiesen’s and Dussel’s frameworks. Following the two empirical analyses, we will discuss basic income as a case of ‘the unfinished’ and an analogical hegemon potential with an opportunity of forming a new counter-­discourse.

Basic income as a case of ‘the unfinished’ between exclusion and inclusion The first part of the analysis covering the Danish debate about basic income in the 1970s and 1980s draws on a range of concepts and an approach developed by Mathiesen (1982; 1992). Mathiesen has explored the way in which a hegemonic discourse is created by means of, on the one hand, marginalising (excluding) alternative discourses and, on the other hand, of socialising (including) potential alliance-­opponents within a mode of perception common to the political public. Inclusion means that efforts are made to absorb opponents into the hegemonic alliance by presenting the common features of deviant action as disadvantageous, and that the opponent’s ideas and actions are essentially already incorporated in the hegemonic alliance. Exclusion means that opponents are expelled through the presentation of their ideas and actions as being misguided and perhaps even dangerous.

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Powerlessness is changed when powerlessness is transformed to counter-­ power. This can be done through joint action: “Joint action is the basic element of counter-­power, for brevity’s sake one could say it is counter-­power” (1982: 75 our translation). Mathiesen lists a series of rhetorical techniques for inclusion directed at erasing disagreement with the hegemonic discourse (1982: 84ff.). The aim is to render potential opponents powerless by presenting them as being in essential agreement with that discourse. But he also notes a series of rhetorical techniques for exclusion which by contrast underline the disagreement with the hegemonic discourse and characterises it as fundamental (1982: 89ff.). This technique involves labelling the disagreement as utopian, abstract and dangerous. The aim here is to render opponents powerless by presenting them as being in basic conflict with the established system. The hegemonic discourse is thus maintained by persuading the general public to perceive and define counter-­discourses as being either wholly within or wholly outside of the system; and by encouraging opponents themselves to be captured by this imagery, to the point of actually behaving as if they were indeed either within or outside of the system. In order to establish counter-­power, it is therefore essential to avoid precisely such capture by the imagery of the dominant discourse; and this in turn means demonstrating, in a variety of theoretical and practical ways, that a logic of ‘either-­or’ is spurious and needs to be replaced by a logic of ‘both-­and’ (1982: 96ff.). The alternative to ‘inclusion’ and ‘exclusion’ alike is what Mathiesen calls ‘the unfinished’. “That which is on track to becoming” or “the theory of the vibrant and expanding political movement” (Mathiesen, 1992:18-­36). This involves adopting a stance that is both opposed to the established system and in competition with it. Mathiesen uses the term ‘competing contradiction’ to describe such a relationship, and he calls it ‘unfinished’ because it offers only a sketch, an outlined prospect towards solutions, not a definitive answer or a final solution. The competing contradiction is unfinished or incomplete in the sense that it has not been tested and that its consequences remain uncertain. Mathiesen writes: “The unfinished movement -­the competing contradiction – is the movement denying to chose when faced with the choice between ‘moving forward and breaking the connection’ with the people and ‘complying with the development and stagnating’. This is a choice orchestrated by the opponents of the movement in order to bring the movement in tune. By accepting the choice and making the choice, the movement is completed” (1982: 185). Thus, the risk to which ‘the unfinished’ is exposed is

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either that it may be made ‘complete’ through incorporation within the system as just a small positive reform; or that it may be completely excluded from the system as a remote and utopian fantasy. In other words, to be able to transcend the dualistic view, basic income must be both ‘realistic’ and ‘utopian’ in the sense that it must show how it could be implemented within a realistic time horizon and at realistic costs, while also being an expression of a new conception of justice which may do away with the injustice that is part of the existing system. Mathiesen outlines a number of forms of public actions to counteract the creation of powerlessness of the hegemonic forces (1982: 95ff.). First, he recommends a form of action called ‘arena outbreak’. This means that the potential of the counter discourse must show to a wider public that it is both working in the established arena and able to break out of this arena. The other method is called ‘information turn ‘. It is an answer to the impossible choice of either working practically within the system or working distantly and theoretically outside the system. It is about reversing the streams of information disclosing insider information about the system’s functionality and behaviour to a wider public. This might take the form of whistleblower information placing the system in a defensive position. The third method is ‘power creation’ aiming at rejecting the imperative to work either for short-­term requirements and reforms or long-­term perspectives. Again, counter power forces must show that there is no contradiction between these perspectives, but that it is essentially a question of both-­and. A fourth method is called ‘case orientation’. It is a response to the choice to obey and let disagreements with the system be silenced or to be positioned in full-­scale disagreement with the system, risking internal disagreements within the counter power. ‘Case orientation’ means avoiding vulnerability at all costs, and instead merely emphasizing the disagreement and conflict with the established system in certain cases, without facing the disagreement in all areas. The fifth method, aimed at rejecting the choice to either perform a careful, balanced center orientation or be defined as an extreme political sect is termed ‘paragraph delivery’, which means to deliver clear critical views on the basis of separate, well-­crafted paragraphs which serves as an alternative to the established system. For Mathiesen, the key is to create an alternative public, i.e. an arena for the presentation of views, debate and criticism able to compete with the dominant views and in which the counter power can force representatives from the established system to debate.

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The emergence of a new idea of basic income in the 1970s An interesting feature of the climate of the Danish ideological debate in the 1970s is that, relatively independently of one another, ‘outsiders’ in four different ideological settings – social-­democratic, socio-­liberal, Marxist and liberal – advanced parallel notions of introducing a new social provision for the maintenance of people’s livelihood without traditional wage labour in return. 1. The Swedish economist, Gunnar Adler-­Karlsson, then a professor at Roskilde University Centre in Denmark, published a couple of books in the mid-­1970s (1976; 1977) which made a social-­democratic case for a ‘guaranteed minimum income’. 2. As mentioned, the idea of a basic income (in Danish called ‘borgerløn’ [citizen’s wage]) aroused widespread public attention through the publication of the book Revolt from the Centre, written by the philosopher Villy Sørensen, the natural scientist Niels I. Meyer and the politician Kristen Helveg Peter­ sen, in February 1978. This linked the idea to socio-­liberal circles and to new ‘green’ aspirations for ‘a humanely balanced society’. 3. At around the same time, the ideas of the French socialist André Gorz about the introduction of a ‘social income’ came to be known and discussed, in socialist circles in particular, through the translation of several of his books (Gorz, 1979; 1981; 1983). 4. Finally, a former co-­operative society director, Niels Hoff, launched the notion of a ‘citizen’s stipend’ for debate in liberal circles (Hoff, 1983). These very diverse authors were at one and the same time each linked to a particular ideological environment, while still having an outsider status. They appeared as heretics, conceptual innovators and provocateurs who ‘turned things upside down’, broke away from established ideological frameworks and challenged industrial society’s conventional growth discourse. Common to the four strands of thought was the assured awareness that the familiar measures of solving societal problems were inadequate and that prevailing conceptions of nature and humankind in industrial society were wide open to questioning. Coinciding with the authors’ shifts of conceptual framework came a shift in the language and the metaphors they used. New views of problems and solutions will usually reflect in language. In categorizing one thing as a problem and another as a solution, problems are often described negatively, solutions positively. If you switch things around, you will often need new words to communicate your new insights.

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A new grassroots’ movement – the 1980s formation of a political basic income discourse The thoughts of Adler-­Karlsson, Gorz and Hoff came to be known only within small circles and were soon forgotten. It was Revolt from the Centre and its conception of basic income that sparked public debate. The publication of this book led to the establishment of a new periodical, the formation of a new grassroots’ movement and the publication of a further series of books. A network was set up which served as a political agent to disseminate the new ideas. It came as a surprise to the initiators that basic income proved to be among those ideas that attracted greatest immediate support. It was this notion, therefore, which the new grassroots’ movement took up first with a view to translating it into concrete policy (Christensen, 2000: 264-­284). Thus, an attempt was made in the 1980s to turn the idea into a ‘political issue’, to set in motion a political discourse about basic income. It followed that the idea had to be linked to the solution of a series of specific political problems, and that efforts had to be made to form a coalition or political alliance around the issue. The means adopted to this end were a number of conferences, the publication of debate books and pamphlets and interviews with leading politicians. The prime objective was to build a political alliance around the issue between the trade union movement, the Social Democratic Party [Socialdemokratiet], the Social Liberal Party [Det Radikale Venstre] and the Socialist People’s Party [Socialistisk Folkeparti]. Through the organization of conferences about basic income, the movement was able to create what Mathiesen calls an ‘arena outbreak’. This shows that the basic income idea at one moment was related to the current system and could not be rejected as an entirely utopian thought. It demonstrated that there was no contradiction in working for short-­term and long-­term reforms. The new grassroots’ movement had to engage actively in the game of practical politics and show that it was not just preoccupied with utopian ideas in order to get into debate and dialogue with the political parties and the union movement. It therefore put forward an alternative national budget and made specific proposals to provide a basic income for young people, and for others to have access to ‘sabbatical leave’. By setting up their own calculations of an economy with basic income supported by a recognized economic expert (later professor Jesper Jespersen from Roskilde University), the new movement succeeded through their own ‘ paragraph delivery’, as Mathiesen puts it, in breaking through in the public arena with a new discourse. It showed that it was able to produce a ‘third position ‘ between traditional economic realism and Utopia.

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The basic income idea was embedded in a social movement which sought to place the issue on the political agenda. But this also meant that the ‘Revolt from the Centre Movement’ (Midteroprørsbevægelsen) had acquired a ‘monopoly’ on the issue, which in turn prevented the formation of a cross-­political forum between social democrats, ‘greens’, liberals and Marxists to take the matter further. The new movement tried to avoid being excluded by appearing as realistic and pragmatic as possible when entering into debates and dialogues with the political parties and trade unions. However, the movement failed in its endeavours to recruit the old political parties, the targets for its policy of basic income, or to persuade them to incorporate similar proposals in their political programmes. Yet, although its hopes of thus placing the issue directly onto the political agenda failed in the first instance, its ideas about general provision for state-­supported sabbatical leave were to prove significant for the subsequent acceptance of schemes of this sort in the late 1980s and early 1990s.

Basic income as an analogical hegemon Having created an understanding of the inclusion and exclusion mechanisms in play in the Danish basic income debate of the 1970s and 1980s, it would seem relevant to take the discussion to the ontological level of political philosophy, thus creating the foundation for moving beyond a practice analysis. For this purpose, we need to be equipped with theoretical concepts able to capture and encompass the relevant components and the dynamics of the potential for dissent so characteristic of the basic income idea. Thus, we also move from the short-­term to the long-­term perspective. In other words, this paragraph takes a look at how basic income may be understood as a political philosophical phenomenon in general and as an idea with the potential for transcending the traditional political landscape in particular. To this end, Enrique Dussel (1934-­), a key figure in the philosophy of the liberation movement founded in 1973, has produced a most stimulating political philosophy centered on the concepts of potentia, potestas and analogical hegemon. In his ‘20 theses on politics’, described by a leading interpreter as “a politics from the underside of necrophilic globalization” (Mendieta 2008: viii), Dussel sets out with the aim of giving political voice to victims and to reflect upon and describe the very core conditions of democracy. Throughout his work, Dussel remains extremely critical towards the established political order of which neoliberalism is a central concept. Concerning basic income, Dussel writes: “Intervention in the systems of the economic field is part of the political function – against capitalist and liberal ‘economism of the market’ – once we clearly

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understand the impossibility of the market producing equilibrium and justice for all, and avoiding the accumulation of wealth in the hands of the few and an increase in poverty among the great majority. The possibility of a nonwork income for all families within a State as a right of citizenship should be studied and implemented” (Dussel, 2008: 117f.). In order to understand this statement about basic income, it is necessary to introduce the key concept of ‘will-­to-­live’. According to Dussel the ‘will-­to-­live’ is the “(…) originary tendency of all human beings” and in essence a will that “(…) drives us to avoid death, to postpone it, and to remain within human life.” (Dussel, 2008: 13). Naturally, this fundamental ‘will-­to-­live’ is closely connected with the fulfilment of basic needs such as food, drink, heat, knowledge and being able to take hold of and use such goods “(…) to guarantee the means of survival”, which Dussel describes as the exertion of power (Dussel, 2008: 14). In this light, basic income can be described as a scheme for the empowerment of human beings, helping them to realize the ‘will-­to-­live’ via the fulfilment of basic needs, and assisting them in developing a capacity for power. But Dussel takes it even further. According to his thinking, any policy generating negative consequences, hindrances and obstacles for the people’s possibility of realizing their ‘will-­to-­live’ is void of legitimacy: “We must criticise, or reject as unsustainable, all political systems, actions, and institutions whose negative effects are suffered by oppressed or excluded victims” (Dussel, 2008: 85). According to Dussel’s analysis, powerful political relations have a strong leaning towards what he calls the ‘fetishization of power’ (Dussel, 2008: 32). Basically, Dussel explains this development by the division between potentia (the power prerogative of the people) and potestas (the delegated power to politicians), but he adds that potestas tends to be seen as self-­referential power to be held in its own right and not based on the potential of the people (will-­to-­power). This entails a conception of power as domination, which implies that “(…) popular demands can never be fulfilled, because power functions as a separate, extrinsic, coercive instance ‘from above’ acting on the people” (Dussel, 2008: 32). According to this analysis, this apparently leaves little hope of basic income being placed on the political agenda, because it most commonly exists as a popular demand among the poor. Dussel even adds that potestas destroys potentia because it “(…) divides the community, it impedes the construction of a consensus ‘from below’, and it breeds conflict” (Dussel, 2008: 33). In other words, it is a divide-­and-­conquer strategy. Being a universal and unconditional scheme, basic income might, in this light, be regarded as promoting potentia to the benefit of genuine democracy, because it contributes to the empowerment of the people by securing them the fulfilment of their basic needs.

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Having thus discussed, in philosophical terms, the serious challenges basic income is faced with when it enters the established political scene by popular demand and the beneficial effect of a basic income on democracy, it may be time to look at basic income as an anti-­hegemonic practice. To this end, we draw on Dussel’s concept of analogical hegemon. Since “(…) institutional power has lost its grounding, (…) this potestas can no longer rely on the capacities of the people – their enthusiasm and benevolence (…)” (Dussel, 2008: 41); new agendas emerge from the ranks of the people. The concept of analogical hegemon describes how a broad spectrum of agendas and interests can unite and converge in a hegemonic political project. Dussel states that every political order is imperfect and bound to produce negative effects. Those suffering the negative effects are termed political victims. Characteristic of political victims is that they are only able to participate asymmetrically in the political system, or they are even excluded from it (Dussel, 2008: 69). The contemporary political order is severely lacking in its capability to distribute benefits to everyone. To this end, basic income presents itself as a solution and as a unifying idea able to cut across a complex topography of different political victim groups, i.e. it contains an analogical hegemon potential. Basic income addresses precisely the victimization of the victims because it remedies at least some of the distribution problems of the current political order. The appeal of this potential seems to be on the increase today as a result of growing marginalization and precarious life conditions. Although showing great diversity as regards political interests and agendas, victimized groups such as the unemployed, the refugees, the precarious workers, subdued women, exploited children, beggars, prostitutes and the penniless artists would all benefit from a basic income scheme that could empower them and act as an emancipating force supporting their diversified ‘wills-­to-­live’. Dussel uses the concept of ‘plebs’ to describe the people in opposition “(…) to the elites, to the oligarchs, to the ruling classes of a political order” (Dussel, 2008: 75). His main point in this connection is that the plebs “(…) tend to encompass all the citizens (populus) in a new future order in which their present day claims will be satisfied and equality will be achieved thanks to a common struggle by the excluded” (Dussel, 2008: 75). Thus, the plebs becomes the populus, the people of the future, raising the demand of politics as ‘will-­to-­live’, attempting through all means to “(…) allow all members to live, to live well, and to increase the quality of their lives” (Dussel, 2008: 85). This demonstrates the essential material nature of politics and the relevance of a basic income which is specifically directed towards the material conditions of the political and societal systems.

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On a more practical level, the rise of an analogous hegemon is dependent on the “Social movements and progressive, critical political parties [devoting] themselves to the task of ‘translating’ the demands of all sectors, their differential identities. Through mutual understanding, dialogue, and the inclusion of other demands in their own, this allows them to move forward with the construction of an analogical hegemon supported by all, which is transformed into a new proposal as a result of the praxis of popular liberation” (Dussel, 2008: 107). Following this “visit” to the ontological level of political philosophy, we resume our analysis of the general practice, using the Danish case of the basic income debate in the 1990s.

Basic income as a political discourse in the political arena of the 1990s In the early 1990s – especially in the years 1992 to 94 – the basic income debate reappeared in a different guise. A new discourse on the theme was created in the form of a counter-­discourse to the dominant discourse around the labour market and social policy concerning the renewal of the welfare state. The idea of a basic income took on a new shape as a political discourse, because the movement-­oriented, the scientific and the political strands of the debate on the issue now became intertwined, at least for a short period of time. A number of parties took up the question. New cross-­political fora were created, and the idea became the subject of social scientific analysis. For a brief period, the new basic income discourse thus managed to give voice to sentiments widespread among the population, and to sow the seeds of a new pattern of alliance between groups across a series of political divides (Christensen, 2008); what Dussel would call the budding of an analogical hegemon. Thus, the interesting feature of the 1990s debate about the issue was that the idea of a basic income was brought onto the political agenda ‘from the bottom up’. It was promoted by marginalized people, by ‘outsiders’ on the fringes of the worlds of business and trade unions, by spinners of ideas and by a few practitioners and controversialists of social science; and a new journal, SALT, strove to join together the debates in the party-­political arena with the debates in the arenas of social science and social movements. ‘From the top down’, the new discourse was met, in turn, by attempts to delimit, diminish or exclude it: attempts to those ends were made by the leadership of the established political parties, by a number of government ministers, and by public commissions of enquiry and civil servants; in Dussel’s nomenclature an example of ‘will-­to-­power’.

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The fact that the issue of basic income got onto the official agenda of politics in the years 1992 to 94 can be ascribed to the development of a particular political context and its coincidence with a set of economic, institutional and political circumstances. The problems of unemployment and transfer payments were attracting growing attention, since unemployment continued to rise until the turn of the year 1994/95. At the beginning of the 1990s, the government had set up a series of commissions of enquiry, whose tasks were to devise a more rational system of labour market measures and public benefit provisions: the targets were simplification and savings. Moreover, in 1993, the new social democratic government had enacted a set of measures for reforming the labour market. On the one hand, those measures increased the opportunities of employees to take periods of paid leave away from work; on the other hand, they gave significantly more scope for ‘activation’, that is to say enforcement on the jobless of obligations to enter training schemes or find work. By 1992-­93, the hegemonic growth d ­ iscourse was in crisis over its legitimacy in popular eyes. The majority of the population had lost faith in the ideology of full employment. Public opinion polls showed widespread opinion in favour of rethinking labour market policies and experimenting with alternative models of distribution: ‘dustmen’s deal’ models, for instance, along the lines of job-­sharing proposed by the dustmen in the city of Aarhus; or measures for reducing working time or for a basic income. In this situation, a basic income was seriously considered as an alternative. Politicians and their parties were forced into taking a stance on the idea of a basic income, and to spell out arguments against such new and more radical methods of problem solving. The fact that the discourse on basic income vanished again from the official political arena around the turn of the year 1994/95 must be attributed to a change in the trends of economics and politics, and to the associated success of the hegemonic growth discourse in excluding rival discourses. This exclusion of the basic income discourse took place, at a rhetorical level, in the public political debate and within the political parties; and it was matched, at an institutional level, by the exclusion of discourses on job sharing, sabbatical leave provision and basic income from the work of the Social Commission, the Welfare Commission and the government’s Economic Secretariat. It is the task of a hegemonic discourse to establish the official definitions of what is to be recognized as problems, and of how those problems fit into existing institutions. The aim is to maintain a viable common identity and a political coalition. This is often done by way of public commissions of enquiry and civil service reports; and the concrete means to this end are the terms of reference set for commission enquiry, the

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appointments made to commissions, and the formulation of their professional and technical discourse. The fact that it proved hard for the idea of a basic income to make headway within the political parties is connected with the point that, to a greater or lesser extent, most of the parties were tinged with and linked to the ideologies and organisational forms of the established industrial society, whose hegemonic discourse was challenged by the discourse for a basic income. The failure of the basic income discourse to gain a foothold was also tied up with the fact that it achieved little support from circles central in the social critique of the time. To those circles, the concept seemed either too controversial, was ignored, or was ridiculed as unrealistic. The leading figures of the feminist movement thus dismissed the idea without explicitly addressing it. And the left-­ wing think-­tank CASA (Centre for Alternative Social Analysis), which served as an expert body for the left in trade union and political affairs, opposed the hegemonic discourse for economic growth, yet held back from taking any stance on the idea of a basic income.

The paradigmatic shift in the Danish labour market and social policy During the last twenty years, the Danish labour market has changed from being the most liberal to being among the strictest in Europe (Goul Andersen & Pedersen 2007). It has been called a development from welfare to workfare or from a Welfare State to a Competition State. The Danish labour market and social policy in the 1970s and in the beginning of the 1980s placed a strong emphasis on social rights and social security. To a great extent, the Danish welfare state reflected the ideals and principles of equal democratic citizenship in the sense of Marshall (Loftager, 1998). The unemployment benefit system, as this was organized up to 1994/95, showed significant similarities to a basic income system (Christensen & Loftager, 2000: 258). Firstly, it was easy to access. Secondly, the period of support was relatively long. Thirdly, because of the high level of unemployment, the obligation of being available to the labour market was rather formal. Fourthly, there was a steady increase in the number of people taking out insurances. Therefore, it would seem as if, at the beginning of the 1990s, Denmark was developing along a ‘basic income path’. Part of the labour market and social reform in 1993/94 pointed in that direction. A ‘transitional allowance’ for the long-­term unemployed was extended to the 50-­54-­year-­olds. Parental and educational leaves were improved, and a new sabbatical leave allowance (the one most resembling basic income) was introduced.

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However, the active labour market policy reform in 1993/94 also introduced a new activation path. The period of receiving unemployment allowances was reduced to seven years, and from that time on it was not possible to regain entitlement through activation, and a right and duty to activation for the unemployed and for social clients was introduced. Throughout the 1990s, the activation path was adjusted with more emphasis on motivation and economic incentives to work, stronger criteria of conditionality and shorter duration of benefits periods. This policy change had already been prepared by a change in economic paradigms and elite discourses (Goul Andersen & Larsen, 2008). In 1988/89 a new interpretation of unemployment – as ‘structural unemployment’ – first appeared in government papers. It was a part of an international movement expressing the view that the high level of unemployment was not a matter of insufficient demand for labour, but of structural problems in the labour market. It created the frame and the diagnostic background for using the new instruments of the activation policy. At the same time, the unemployment rate dropped, and one of the elements in the basic income path, the leave scheme, was phased out. As Peter Hall (1993) has shown in the British context, ‘ideas matter’, and in Denmark the new economic idea about structural unemployment gained a foothold among experts and politicians and exerted an effect on policy change along the activation path in the 1990s.

Basic income both as a case of ‘the unfinished’ and the ‘analogical hegemon’ The final and concluding step is to conduct a historical analysis of the Danish basic income debate in order to produce well-­established perspectives on the potential for dissent of the basic income idea as an anti-­hegemonic bloc and an analogous hegemon: “The retrospective historical analysis aimed at explaining the formation and life of a basic income agenda rooted in a single-­agenda movement” (the Danish Basic Income Movement, BIEN Denmark). Mathiesen provides a useful nomenclature for analyzing the problems encountered by such a single-­agenda movement, setting a new public agenda in a climate with a dominant discourse hostile to an unconditional basic income. Mathiesen’s contribution is mainly an understanding of the pitfalls lurking for a new discourse struggling to avoid being excluded and included and instead breaking through as what Mathiesen calls ‘the unfinished’. Thus, the idea of a basic income can be taken as an example of an ‘unfinished’ idea, which has maintained recurrent vitality because it has served as a mode of ‘competing contradiction’ vis-­à-­vis the existing welfare society. But at

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the same time, the history of this idea has been marked by tendencies towards both inclusion and exclusion. In the debate on the issue during the 1990s, opponents tended to depict suggestions for a basic income as the adoption of an irresponsible line of policy, advocated by theorists remote from real life and hostile to practical short-­term measures for improvement. These are typical rhetorical tactics of exclusion. The danger of the ‘unfinished’ is that it will either be completed by being included as a small positive reform within the system or be excluded as a distant Utopia outside of the system. Occasionally, when the basic income idea has succeeded in breaking through to a wider public, this is because the idea has served as ‘a competing contradiction’ in relation to the existing system. In many cases, basic income opponents have succeeded in putting the basic income issue in an either-­or or a first-­second order straitjacket. This is apparent in the following examples: 1. Is it a short-­term, realistic reform -­or a long-­term utopian reform? 2. First we must solve the unemployment problem -­then we can think of a basic income reform. 3. First you have to have a change of attitude, and then you can start thinking about a structural basic income reform. 4. First, we have to reduce working hours so that we can begin to think differently. 5. Let us talk about leave reforms instead, that is realistic, a basic income is unrealistic. But a basic income is both a short-­term and long-­term reform. A basic income is also helping to solve the problem of unemployment and working hours, so it is not a question of either-­or but a question of both-­and. In fact, proponents of a basic income have always been faced with a dilemma as to whether to emphasize the proposition as an idea within a wider context, or to put it forward as merely a technical measure. Technical sketches towards the practical implementation of a basic income have in some circumstances helped add appeal to the idea by way of ‘competing contradiction’. That was the case to some degree in the 1980s and early 1990s. But there is then a large risk that ideas are soon downgraded to matters of mere technicality, and so lose meaningful coherence. It was in precisely this way that basic income advocates, in the 1980s and 1990s alike, came to neglect arguments for their cause by refering to the values and concerns with the societal context that justified it. There was a shortage of players who could bring ideas and techniques together and so provide the movement with that overriding dynamic which the idea of ‘the unfinished’ implies. Basic income is fascinating as a subject because, on the whole, it moves away from this dualistic perception. It is linked to a number of practical problems and to great reforms. It represents a continuation of elements in the existing system and a discontinuation of other tendencies. It is concerned with short-­term

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questions while also having long-­term perspectives. It concurs with certain elements of the existing welfare system and not with others. Using Dussel’s nomenclature, the long-­term perspective is about the creation and development of a comprehensive resistance movement formed in an alliance between a number of single-­agenda movements against a dominant power. It is the creation of an anti-­hegemonic bloc consisting of the oppressed and excluded movements. It is the process of creating an analogous hegemon able to incorporate the individual movements and still retain and respect their idiosyncrasies. So far, the basic income movement has been preoccupied with the problem of creating a single-­agenda organization able to break through to the wider public agenda, navigating between Scylla (inclusion) and Charybdis (exclusion). One reaction in the basic income movement to the trouble of winning the acceptance of the general public of the pure message of a basic income is that a basic income is a topic ‘too small’ to set another agenda, or to establish contact with groups who want to break away from the dominating agenda. The problem is that no one will be convinced by an isolated basic income reform if that someone is already engaged in a reform of the entire system. A basic income reform even points in different directions. A basic income is only one part of the change. It will not be a convincing reform until it is interacting with other reforms. In a democratic socialist system, it must be connected with other elements in a reform for economic democracy, and in a human ecological system it must be connected with an ecological tax reform and other ecological experiments. Up until now, the basic income movement has chosen not to link the basic income issue with other issues and has thus not made alliances with other movements for fear that such a move would divide the movement itself. Making alliances might give rise to disagreement about ecology, the EU, immigration policy and the attitude to capitalism, with the result that the cross-­party character of the movement must be dropped. Thus, the choice has also been made from fear that the movement would be even more excluded and that some liberal and conservative basic income advocates would feel alienated. In the future, this strategy must be abandoned if we are to adhere to Dussel’s long-­term perspective for the creation of an alliance between the social movements willing and able to enter into an anti-­hegemonic bloc and subsequently act as an analogous hegemon able to counter the neoliberal hegemony. This will entail that the basic income movement is to a much larger extent stimulated or even forced to view the basic income issue in a wider context and spend energy integrating the issue with other issues. Following this alternative strategy raises the question whether this would mean giving priority to working with the movements instead of prioritizing the

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short-­term political work for reforms pointing towards a basic income before a sufficiently powerful bloc is created. Will that not entail that the movement will be caught in Mathiesen’s dilemma, in which the long-­term utopian perspective is given pride of place over short-­term pragmatic struggles? Since the World Social Forum was established in 2001 in Porto Alegre in Brazil, a basic income has been a recurring issue of debate among global grassroots movements. It is also noteworthy that since 2011, the American Occupy Wall Street movement, together with the Spanish Indignados movement, has adopted a basic income for its program (Christensen & Ydesen, 2013).2 Over the last year, the global basic income movement has been strengthened by an intensified cooperation between movements in a number of countries unified by the endeavour to gather signatures for the European Citizens’ Initiative for a Basic Income. On 14 January 2013, the European citizens’ initiative registration was accepted by the European Commission, thus triggering a 12-­month period aiming at collecting more than one million signatures in the European Union. 34 MEPs support the initiative, and the cooperation will undoubtedly contribute to a basic income being part of the agenda for handling the economic crisis just like the Belgian philosopher and social scientist Philippe van Parijs has suggested with his proposal for an EU dividend.3 Undoubtedly, the movement would be strengthened if an established political party would adopt the basic income for its policy agenda. Contrary to other countries, like Norway, Sweden and Germany, this is not the case in Denmark. It is highly likely that an increasingly closer world-­wide basic income movement will manifest itself, working both top-­down from the formal political system, in political parties, national parliaments and the EU, and bottom-­up from grassroots movements using World Social Forum and its regional and national branches in the attempt to create a strong bloc to counter neoliberal globalization. This would be in accordance with both Mathiesen’s and Dussel’s analyses of political power and representation.

Bibliography Adler-­Karlsson,  G. (1976) Lærebog for 80’erne. Et antikonsumistisk manifest. København: Fremads Fokusbøger. Adler-­Karlsson, G. (1977) Nej til fuld beskæftigelse – ja til materiel grundtryghed. København: Erling Olsens Forlag. 2 3

http://binews.org/2011/12/occupy-­wall-­street-­sparks-­interest-­in-­policies-­like-­big/ http://www.social-­europe.eu/2013/07/the-­euro-­dividend/

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Christensen,  E. (2000) Borgerløn. Fortællinger om en politisk idé. Aarhus: Hovedland. Christensen, E. (2008) The Heretical Political Discourse -­A Discourse Analysis of the Danish Debate on Basic Income. Aalborg: Aalborg University Press. Christensen, E. & Loftager, J. (2000) “Ups and Downs of Basic Income in Denmark”, in van der Veen & Groot, (eds) Basic Income on the Agenda: Policy objectives and political chances. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 257-­268. Christensen, E. & Ydesen, C. (2012) Basic income – A transcultural perspective. Paper presented at the 14th BIEN Congress 2012, Munich, Germany, Sept. 14 – 16. Dussel, E. (2008) 20 theses on politics. Durham: Duke University Press. Fairclough, N. (1992) Discourse and Social Change. Cambridge: Polity Press. Fitzpatrick, T. (1999). Freedom and Security – an Introduction to the Basic Income Debate. London: Macmillan Press. Fumagalli, A. (2013) “Cognitive Biocapitalism, the Precarity Trap, and Basic Income: Post-­Crisis Perspectives”, in García Agustín, & Ydesen (eds) Post-­Crisis Perspectives – The Common and its Powers. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang Verlag, 57-­82 Gorz, A. (1979) Økologi og frihed. Viborg: Politisk Revy [English edition, Ecology as Politics. London: Pluto Press 1983]. Gorz,  A. (1981) Farvel til Proletariatet – hinsides socialismen. Viborg: Politisk Revy [English edition, Farewell to Working Class: an Essay on Post-­industrial Socialism. London: Pluto Press 1982]. Gorz.  A. (1983) Paradisets veje – kapitalens dødskamp. Viborg: Politisk Revy [English edition, Path to Paradise: on the Liberation from Work. London: Pluto Press 1985]. Goul Andersen, J. & Pedersen, J. J. (2007) “Continuity and change in Danish active labour market policy: 1990-­2007. The battlefield between activation and workfare”. CCWS Working Paper no. 2007-­54. Goul Andersen, J. & Larsen, C. A. (2008) How ideas can have an independent causal effect on policy change: The case of new economic ideas that changed the Danish welfare state. Paper prepared for the 4th International Conference on Welfare State Change: Policy Feedback, the Role of Ideas and Incrementalism at St. Restrup Herregaard, Denmark, January 30 – February 1, 2008.

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Hall, P. (1993) “Policy Paradigms, Social Learning, and the State: The Case of Economic Policymaking in Britain”, Comparative Politics, vol. 25(3): 275-­96. Hoff, N. (1983) Borgerstipendiet – den liberale velfærdsmodel. Forlaget i Haarby. Larsen, C. A. (2008) “The Institutional Logic of Welfare Attitudes;: How Welfare Regimes Influence Public Support”, Comparative Political Studies, Vol 41(2): 145-­168. Loftager, J. (1998) Solidarity and Universality in the Danish Welfare State – empirical remarks and theoretical interpretations. BIEN International Congress. Amsterdam, 10-12 Sept. Mathiesen, T. (1982) Makt og Motmakt. Oslo: Pax Forlag. Mathiesen, T. (1992) Det uferdige. Tekster om opprør og undertrykkelse. Oslo: Pax Forlag. Meyer, N. I., Petersen, N. H. & Sørensen, V. (1978) Oprør fra midten. København: Gyldendal. Meyer, N. I., Petersen, N. H. & Sørensen, V. (1982) Røret om oprøret. Mere om midten. København: Gyldendal. Meyer, N. I., Petersen, N. H. & Sørensen, V. (1982) Revolt from the Centre. London: Maryon Boyars. Murray, M. C. & Pateman, C. (2012) Basic Income Worldwide: Horizons of Reform. International Political Economy Series. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Pedersen,  O. K. (2010) “Institutional Competitiveness -­When Nations came to Compete”, in Morgan, Campbell, Crouch, Pedersen, & Whiteley (eds) Oxford Handbook in Institutional Analysis. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 625-­658. Standing, G. (2009) Responding to the Crisis: Economic Stabilisation Grants. Paper presented at the Conference of the Social Policy Association, University of Edinburgh, June 30. Standing, G. (2011) The Precariat – the new dangerous class. London & New York: Bloomsbury Academic. Van Parijs, P. (1995) Real Freedom for All: What (if anything) can justify capitalism? Oxford: Oxford University Press. Wacquant, L. (2008) Urban Outcasts: A Comparative Sociology of Advanced Marginality. Cambridge: Polity Press. Wacquant,  L. (2009) Punishing the Poor: The Neoliberal Government of Social Insecurity. Durham and London: Duke University Press.

Peter Nielsen

No Future -­Degrowth as Dissent in the Wealth Society Abstract The current development of advanced capitalist societies is characterized by a multidimensional and deep crisis but even so there seems to be very little dissent in a country such as Denmark if the situation is judged by traditional standards of critical theories. It seems that dissent has been replaced by consent. This conclusion is problematized in this chapter. Taking a historical point of departure the chapter analyses theoretical and practical dissent in advanced capitalist societies in the last 100 years in order to see what have shaped the contemporary configuration. It is argued that the formation and decay of the Wealth Society has been overlooked.

Introduction The current development of advanced capitalist societies is characterized by a multidimensional and deep crisis, but even so there seems to be very little dissent in a country such as Denmark if the situation is judged by traditional standards of critical theories.1 It seems that dissent has been replaced by consent. But is this really so? Perhaps our notions of dissent have to be rethought in the 21st century? This chapter starts out by analyzing theoretical and practical dissent in advanced capitalist societies in the past 100 years in order to see what has shaped the contemporary configuration. I will then argue that prevailing critical theories and practices fail to address a major societal development in the past decades: The formation and decay of the Wealth Society. What we have is primarily a vital consensus revolving around neoclassical economics and neoliberal politics in a society dominated by consumerist values and media culture. Economic growth is the pivot. However, dissent is widespread in the form of degrowth, which is primarily a structural and diffuse phenomenon resulting from a myriad 1 I am grateful for comments and critique on an earlier draft of this chapter from Óscar García Agustín, Hubert Buch-­Hansen, Pil Christensen, Christian Ydesen and Bjørg Ørneborg.

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of uncoordinated and largely unintended actions. It is a popular (counter) culture, so to speak. Degrowth is a historical tendency whereby the performance, institutions and identities of the Wealth Society are slowly corrupted and de­ legitimized. The main indicator is a global tendency for the economic growth rate to fall; this has been evident since the 1970s, particularly in rich countries such as Denmark where the severity of the current crises is indicated by the fact that the GDP growth level is far below the two percent per year which is required for a prosperous wealth society (Nielsen 2011: 258). The growth rate is rapidly approaching zero and is highly unstable because of bubbles and exorbitant debt. In the 20th century, dissent in the traditional forms provided political-­ economic innovation that prompted coherent changes to overcome crisis through new growth regimes. Today, no such dialectics or coherency is possible. The final part of the chapter analyzes what this means for the (lack of) future prospects of the 21st century.

Dissent in 20th century capitalism: A short narrative The understandings of dissent that are prevalent in critical theory and on the Left today were shaped by tradition, events and innovation in the past century. In the first part of the 20th century, classical Marxism and anarchism were just about the only games in town. Classical Marxism sees society as capitalist and focuses on the capital-­labour-­relation as the pivotal organizing feature. Capitalism is a society of class struggle, since the dominant relation is contradictory: Workers and capitalists have opposing interests. In this light, dissent is mainly seen to be criticizing and opposing capitalism through theoretical reiteration and the development of Marxism, and through strikes, sabotage, work refusal, labour movements and counter culture and so on. Classical anarchism focuses on state and political power and is opposed to centralized and hierarchical social relations. Dissent is thus seen as critiques of power and elites and social action that challenges such phenomena, such as direct action and small scale organizations of a loose and horizontal nature. The Frankfurt School is an early example of theoretical innovations shaped by events such as the rise of fascism, the 2nd World War and postwar Fordism. However, from the 1960s and onwards, a variety of new perspectives on dissent have materialized. These perspectives have primarily been influenced by post-­structuralism (or Post-­Marxism), the events of 1968 and new social movements, such as student movements, women’s movements and environmentalist movements. For post-­structuralists such as Foucault, Laclau, Mouffe and Butler, dissent is not limited to workers struggles and Marxist scholars. New areas of life

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such as sexuality, the body, gender, the environment, research, education, race etc. are seen as battlegrounds that cannot be reduced to labour issues and are no less important. Post-­structuralism is more closely associated with anarchism than Marxism, but there is a major shift from the materialist analyses of the classics to discourse analyses in which language and texts are of primary interest, and dissent primarily takes the forms of articulation or performativity that are either counterhegemonic or opposed to various normal patterns of behavior. The events of 1968 and the crises in the following decade had a huge impact on critical theory and practice. New developments of a more or less classical version of Marxism, such as structuralism and capital logic, came and went, whereas post-­structuralism persisted and even dominated critical academic reflection in the Western societies of the 1990s. Around the turn of the Millenium things changed once again. Like 40 years back, both theoretical and practical novelties prompted the changes. In terms of theory, we saw new and original attempts to bring aspects of classical Marxism back in, albeit through a more or less poststructuralist approach. In practice, we have witnessed new events and movements such as the globalization movement, climate protests, Internet activism and most recently also Occupy Wall Street. Intellectuals such as Naomi Klein, Slavoj Žižek, Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri are well known figures of contemporary critical theory and dissent. Hardt and Negri are the most systematic thinkers of this new trend. They are working with a grand narrative that resembles classical Marxism by posing an overall opposition between Empire, on the one hand, and the multitude, on the other. However, the schematic nature and deterministic features of classical Marxism are replaced by a poststructuralist analysis of multifaceted power and resistance, and the progressive subject, the multitude, is much more diverse, wide and open – more non-­identifiable and anarchist, you might say – than that of the working class. One could say that with the ongoing work of Hardt and Negri, the major trends in critical theory and dissent of the past 100 years were synthesized and elaborated in a masterful way (Christensen, Nielsen and Poulsen 2012: 11). Following this, what can be concluded concerning dissent after a century of tradition and innovation? Actually, not much has changed regarding the form of dissent, even though its space and content have been widened and contested. Today, dissent is mainly seen as an articulated and more or less organized protest of a systematic nature. It can be theoretical, practical or both. It is outspoken and extrovert – it revolves around particular events and usually takes the form of movements that foster anti-­systemic or counterhegemonic demands reflecting a wider populace.

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Also, this view on dissent is frequently accompanied by disillusion and pessimism, since the past decades have mainly seen dissent giving way to consent in advanced capitalist countries. Traditional forms of dissent such as workers movements, strikes and counter culture are hard to come by, and more recent forms of dissent such as the environmentalist movement, the globalization movement, social forums, climate protests and Occupy have either completely disappeared or been thoroughly marginalized. Hope and optimism are cheap when new dissent emerges and grows, but when the events and movements fail to deliver substantial social change and then fade away or become corrupted, pessimism and cynicism frequently take over. Rather than new cycles of revolt and dissent, the current historical trajectory can be interpreted as fading after chocks of earthquakes in the past, such as 1968. This is the case at universities too where critical theory in its various forms has been on a downward sloping curve for decades. Only few people, such as Hardt and Negri and other (post) operaist Marxists, can keep up optimism through all the setbacks and downturns – not to mention the tedious work and conflicts often constituting everyday dissent. However, in my view the prevalent critical theories, practices and mindsets are inadequate or even misguided today. A new form of society and dissent has formed over the past few decades, and seen in this light, things look very different. Perhaps the best example of this disparity is whistleblowers and their cultural resonance. In recent years, whistleblowers such as Edward Snowden have been hailed by newspaper editors and critical theorists of great variety such as Habermas, Chomsky and Žižek. They usually disagree about almost everything, but they can agree on supporting and praising whistleblowers. I suspect that this has something to do with these writers identifying themselves with whistleblowers and their heroism – probably they unconsciously think of themselves as intellectual whistleblowers that fearlessly reveal the secrets of society and thus fight harmful propaganda and misuse of power by dominant institutions such as the state and corporations. However, there are other reasons for the widespread re­ cognition of whistleblowers amongst academics and in the media in particular. They fit in nicely with our age old perceptions of dissent and also with our current media and virtual reality. In my view, they are easily recognizable individualizations of a new mythology of a society that is possessed with individuals, information and transparency. The first dimension of the myth is classic and increasingly untrustworthy; the understanding that individuals can make a difference and that basically, this applies to us all. In our current hyper complex and globalized society, only a few individuals make a difference – and only temporarily. The importance of

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individual action is steadily receding. The other element of the myth is that information and transparency are good, and that more information and transparency are always preferable. Surely, if information were in short supply that would be the case but is it not rather the case that our current society is characterized by a permanent information overload that entails an escalating noise level? In that case, more information makes us neither more enlightened nor wiser. Concerning transparency, the general understanding is that it is pivotal for democracy and good governance. The quest for transparency is a quest for truth, and it is based on the understanding of knowledge as the basis of the good and rational society. But we are not lacking truth either. Actually, we are overwhelmed with truths to such an extent that democratic processes are overheated and stifled. We live in a globalized world of obscene productivity and transparency, and in this context, whistleblowers are perfect exceptions that are exemplary as expressions of the ideological self-­denial of our system. They are 21st century expressions of the American dream in the present-­day Wealth Society.

The Wealth Society The Wealth Society is a term used to conceptualize and theorize the form(s) of society that have evolved following the crises of capitalism and the welfare state in the 1970s (Nielsen 2011). It is not a totalizing concept meant to beat all other concepts. It can be seen as a useful addition to related neo-­Marxist concepts such as Empire (Hardt and Negri 2000; Christensen, Nielsen and Poulsen 2012), the competition state (Jessop 2002), cognitive capitalism etc. (Gorz 2010; Moulier Boutang 2011) by developing a slightly different perspective on contemporary capitalism in order to inspire critical thought and action. It is not a question of advocating a better concept but of advancing a common conceptual tool kit for a situation of both epistemological and ontological disturbance. The Wealth Society evolved from the welfare states of the advanced capitalist countries in the post-­war period and is a dominant social form today. The welfare state had a twofold character. On the one hand, it instituted national accounts and GNP as a measure of social progress – and thus economic growth as a principal yardstick. Likewise, the actual growth in the period was unprecedented in that it universalized mass consumption and the policies of full employment. On the other hand, the welfare state dynamic was based on a confronting set of values. Welfare as opposed to wealth was the main policy aim, and there was a broad sense of solidarity and community underpinning the developmental model, which resulted in greater equality and less poverty. Also, and importantly, the growth model was not seen as an everlasting necessity. Rather, it was a limited

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scheme meant to bring about material prosperity to all and then to be replaced by other concerns such as democracy and the expansion of free time. The most visible aspects of these elements of the welfare state were mass democracy, mass social movements and systematic reductions of standard labour time. Thus, the welfare state was a complex mixture of growth and degrowth with the state as the central institution, and accordingly, the 1970s can be portrayed as both the high point and the terminal crises of this post-­war capitalist model (Nielsen 2011: 79-­106). The Wealth Society does not have a twofold character. It can be associated with the withering away of the degrowth character of the state and the increase of economic growth and efficiency as the guiding principles everywhere in society. The formation of the consumer society can be seen as one of the main passages from the welfare state to the Wealth Society. Both public and private consumption boomed in the welfare state, but when the worker identities gradually gave way to consumer identities, a qualitative transformation occurred. The social order was simultaneously individualized and socialized in a way that made ever-­increasing consumption the general purpose and thus economic growth the only and ultimate model of development. The values of capitalism, i.e. growth and productivity, were made subjective and universal at the same time (Nielsen 2011: 107-­120). Following the formation of the consumer society, we witnessed a transformation from Keynesian to neoclassical hegemony in economics. The Keynesians had a macro perspective and focused on demand in a delimited framework. This perspective was turned on its head by neoclassical economists in the scientific revolution of the 1980s, and the new hegemony was a universal framework that focused on supply by applying a micro method utilizing economic man as its basic tool. And whereas Keynesian economics were informally married to social democratic policies, neoclassical economics paved the way for the institution of the neoliberal hegemony in politics. All areas of social life were to be structured around the universal goal of growth and were to be achieved by greater inequality, marketization, more competition, debt, deregulation and a continuous rise in the supply of wage labour etc. The expansion of the consumer society and the new political-­economic hegemony were not well suited for concrete solidarity and community. The new emphasis on the productive and consuming individual had enormous consequences for the labour movement and other social movements. They faced increasingly harder times and witnessed how fragments of their historical legacy were subsumed by corporations and utilized in marketing. Most of all, perhaps, earlier forms of solidarity and community were replaced by a mediatized mass

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culture that developed primarily from the 1980s and onwards with multiple television channels; this accelerated with the Internet in the 1990s and social networks in the 2000s. Media culture opens up new spaces of commonality and potentiality but also entails a more fragmented social setting and can be associated with widespread sensations of losing depth, subjectivity and history. This transformation of popular culture affects political life to a great extent, not only social movements but also the politics of market democracy (Nielsen 2011: 59-­ 77). Political discourse becomes primarily a media play with the median voter as the targeted audience, and thus pluralism and innovation dry out. The neoliberal consensus is embraced by social democratic and socialist parties too, and empty rhetoric and diversions become the state of play (Nielsen 2011: 185-­219). The universities are protagonists of the development of the Wealth Society since questions of knowledge and reality are very important (Nielsen 2011: 221-­ 250). With the fading of positivism and traditional critical theory from the 1980s in particular, there was no longer a general sense of scientific activity having to do with amassing knowledge of a given reality. Social construction, discourse and power were substituting knowledge and reality in a process that is frequently associated with postmodernism and post-­structuralism. The deconstruction of modernist values and methods corresponded very well with the simultaneous rise of the media culture, and as a result two things happened: In the general culture, science is part of a more level playing field of information, noise and the virtual sphere, and the universities and education in particular have been commercialized and subject to neoliberal reforms. So far, however, these processes have had close to no impact on the scientific status of neoclassical economics, which remain a positivist island of absolute knowledge mirroring a fixed reality in a sea of simulation and simulacra. As regards science and culture, the Wealth Society thus contains a mysterious paradox: it is both increasingly positivist and anti-­positivist. And this paradox is reflected in several internal paradoxes of neoclassical economics itself (Nielsen 2011: 25-­57, 190-­205). The Wealth Society contains ample paradoxes, but it would be imprecise to say that it has a twofold character like the welfare state (and capitalism). Rather, it can be said to include a twofold movement of formation and decay, vitality and crises, consensus/consent and dissent.

Growth and degrowth The process of decay, crises and dissent has to do with low or negative growth rates. There is no hard and fast rule here see Harvey (2010: 27), but as a rule of thumb on the macro level, we can say that when the annual real growth in GDP

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is above two percent for a period of several years, formation, vitality and consensus are prevalent, whereas a period of growth significantly below two percent per year can be summarized as a general state of decay, crisis and dissent. However, both sides of the movement of the Wealth Society are usually coexisting and intertwined in a complex web of scales and situations. Empirically and corresponding to mainstream economic and political discourse, crisis and recession are associated with such phenomena as rising unemployment, public deficits, economic insecurity, social unrest and political turbulence etc. When economic growth and associated phenomena such as efficiency and productivity are the guiding principles throughout society, degrowth is simultaneously established as the major form of dissent. Degrowth can be seen as having both a negative and a positive side. The negative side has to do with stopping or reversing economic growth, whereas the positive side has to do with cultivating other values such as democracy, autonomy and sustainability, which can very well result in non-­economic forms of growth, such as growth in free time, wilderness or common wealth. In many ways, the formation of the Wealth Society is the result of recurrent crisis management in the face of degrowth. In the 1970s, degrowth was part of the various forms of dissent. I think it would be an overstatement to summarize this decade as a decade of degrowth since many other forms of dissent thrived and degrowth was hardly the major issue for most people. Rather, as an ex post reconstruction, it can be said that degrowth in both its negative and positive forms were more or less implicit issues in many great struggles of the decade. Critiques of the consumer society and environmental destruction contain essential elements of degrowth, even if this is not made explicit. Likewise, the experiments with alternative life styles and the politics of non-­economic issues such as gender, sexuality and peace can be seen as practical examples of the positive side of degrowth. Also more traditional forms of dissent such as wild strikes and work refusal can be rearticulated as aspects of a complex evolving matrix of degrowth. However, degrowth also found its explicit spokespeople in academic and activist circles, and even became part of the mainstream political-­economic agenda. The Danish Social Democrats, for instance, advocated a politics of degrowth in their political programme in 1977, which was not officially abandoned until 1992. Taken together, the crisis of the 1970s can be seen as a multifaceted crisis of growth. The overall economic growth in the 1970s was only half that of the 1950s and 1960s and was even negative for a period, but most importantly: Prospects of future economic growth looked very bleak indeed. Capitalism and the welfare state suffered a major crisis.

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Crisis management in order to restore economic growth affected work, consumption and several other aspects of life from the 1970s onwards. In work life, we witnessed the emergence of the neoliberal work regime affecting both public and private sector employees and the unemployed too. In the private sector, various forms of human resource management and reorganizations of work practices aimed to boost productivity and reduce resistance in the workplace. The public sector imitated such practices and at the same time introduced more traditional ways of boosting productivity from the private sector such as competition, incentive schemes, bonuses, promotions etc. in a sweeping reorganization and permanent reform often termed New Public Management. And for the unemployed, we saw the rise of active labour market policy replacing earlier passive and lenient welfare state measures by strict economic and mental discipline in order to sustain and expand the supply of wage labour. As mentioned earlier, many changes have also occurred regarding consumption, so that a steep upward pressure is constructed and maintained. There has been an explosion in debt – both private and public in the advanced capitalist countries. This has been managed in part through interest rate policy and financial deregulation. As a rule, interest rates are kept low, and access to loans is made easier. Private consumption is also stimulated by tax cuts and other ways of subsidizing while a dual development has taken place, stimulating private consumption through branding and other new forms of marketing, on the one hand, and a boom in discounts, on the other (Klein 2000, Arvidsson 2006). Phrased bluntly: Brands for the rich and discounts for the poor. Interest rate policy and financial deregulation have also led to significant increases in private wealth, mainly through rising housing and stock prices. Part of this wealth has been turned into consumption growth – often in an erratic manner causing various bubbles. Thus, our main identities in the Wealth Society as workers, unemployed, consumers, wealthy, indebted etc. promote economic growth. As wage labourers and unemployed we want (to hold on to) jobs and higher wages. As consumers we want to consume more. As indebted we want to reduce our debt. As wealthy we want to accumulate wealth etc. Also, identities connected to other main institutions of the Wealth Society such as our identities as citizens, voters, union members and knowledgeable individuals are promoting economic growth since the corresponding institutions have all come to work for and depend on economic growth. It is no surprise that corporations need economic growth and are relentlessly working to succeed, but economic growth is also the raison d’être of the Wealth and Competition State. All the major political parties running for government are also advocating economic growth as their most important issue.

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The mainstream unions are advocating economic growth in order to increase wages and employment. The universities and education in general are made to work for economic growth in the ‘knowledge economy’, and neoliberal economic ‘science’ makes economic growth the only thing worth going for wherever you are and whoever you are – and that is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth! Still, it has not been going all too well with economic growth. We have seen nothing like the ‘golden age of capitalism’ in the decades following the 1970s. Surely, there have been growth periods in every decade so far, primarily taking the form of short-­lasting bubbles, but the overall picture in all the rich countries of the world is that the economic growth level has been significantly lower for each decade: Figure 2. Average growth in GDP per capita in OECD countries 5 4.5

percent per year

4 3.5 3 2.5 2 1.5 1 0.5 0

1960-1969

1970-1979

1980-1989

1990-1999

2000-2009

Source: http://databank.worldbank.org/data/home.aspx

The economic growth level has fallen from over four percent in the 1960s to below one percent in the first decade of this century. Growth in each decade has been lower than in the preceding decade. In times of severe crisis – the 70s and the 2000s – the growth level halved, and in the remaining decades it fell slightly. I will return to the current crises later. For now, I will offer a general interpretation of what happened to (de)growth in the period after the crisis of the 70s. Firstly, it must be emphasized that degrowth as a traditional form of dissent, as articulated above, more or less vanished from the face of the Earth in the

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mid-­1980s. Degrowth has gone underground, so to speak. It has become an unarticulated and disorganized form of dissent. It has more to do with structural effects than conscious agency or movements. It is not related to particular events, and it is not counter-­hegemonic, rather post-­hegemonic, i.e. fragmented and dispersed. Of course, it still has its outspoken supporters in academia and politics, but in the big picture these activities are insignificant. Degrowth is primarily the distorted mirror image of a society promoting a total consensus and non-­events. Since the 1980s, degrowth has primarily been a structural and diffuse phenomenon at a societal level resulting from a myriad of uncoordinated and largely unintended actions. The actions are not unconscious or unintentional as such, but the overall degrowth character of the activities at the macro level are typically neither conscious nor intentional. One could say that degrowth has become a popular (counter) culture. Degrowth is thus primarily a historical tendency whereby the performance, institutions and identities of the Wealth Society are slowly corrupted (in the sense of Hardt and Negri 2000: 201-­203, see also Christensen, Nielsen and Poulsen 2012: 104-­109). The decades preceding the collapse of the Soviet Union can act as an analogy for what is going on today. However, today the situation is global and there is no second system and ideology that can fill the gaps, as was the case with capitalism and neoliberalism after the fall of the Berlin Wall and the consequent crumbling of the Soviet system. I will return to the question of what this means for the (lack of) future prospects of the Wealth Society. The main macro indicator of the failing performance is the tendency of the economic growth rate to fall. This is a global tendency, but in the advanced capitalist countries, the growth rate is rapidly approaching zero and is highly unstable because of bubbles and exorbitant debt (including ecological debt). However, similar tendencies are evident concerning economic productivity and private consumption. Productivity growth and consumption growth are slowing down and have reached levels that are alarming for the coherence and prosperity of the Wealth Society. At the same time, all the major institutions of the Wealth Society are in a state of decay – and the dominant identities are constantly losing legitimacy and support. Corporations are losing legitimacy when they fail to offer jobs with better working conditions and higher real wages, as is increasingly the case. Unions are suffering for largely the same reasons and are experiencing a systematic loss of members and political support. The political parties and the parliamentary system are also in distress. Membership of parties has been declining for decades, and the number of voters is also decreasing steadily. The Wealth and

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Competition State is not in a healthy state either, with deficits mounting for decades and reaching exorbitant levels in recent years. Education and economic science have also failed on their promises and are facing a mounting crisis of legitimacy. Taken together, we see a steady corruption of the institutional infrastructure of the Wealth Society. At the micro level, something of the same nature is happening to the identities that support the wealth society. What we see is a mirror image of the same interdependent process. It is hard for most people to work and consume more. We are worn down at work and socio-­psychological problems such as stress, depressions and anxiety are widespread (Berardi 2009). Consumption is not the fata morgana it used to be and is curbed because of suffocating debt, insecurity and many other concerns, such as ecological consciousness. Hardly anyone is an active member of a political party and less and less are voters or members of a union. Only a few take an interest in the ongoing political debate. Discontent with the workings of the state, formal education and current science are becoming the order of the day. I should stress once again, however, that this discontent and dissent taking the form of degrowth are not expressed in the form of systematic protests, strikes, manifestos, demonstrations, mass movements or anti-­systemic political demands. Nor can we ever expect it to be, since “[m]ost of the political life of subordinate groups is to be found neither in overt collective defiance of powerholders nor in complete hegemonic compliance, but in the vast territory between these polar opposites” (Scott 1990: 136). Degrowth is a silent and introvert form of dissent that can perhaps be interpreted in part as reflecting fatigue and incredulity towards traditional forms of dissent and in part as general discontent with a society that is increasingly loud and extrovert. Degrowth as dissent is thus totally unfit for media exposure and therefore hardly exists in our mediatized society. Ironically, since critical theory works through much the same mechanisms as the media – events, articulations, news, publics etc. – this dissent is invisible in such theories too. Generally, as Scott (1990: 183) argues, “[f]or a social science attuned to the relatively open politics of liberal democracies and to loud, headline-­grapping protests, demonstrations, and rebellions, the circumspect struggle waged daily by subordinate groups is, like infrared rays, beyond the visible end of the spectrum”. This mostly has to do with ordinary people trying to cope with things and to improve the quality of everyday life and environment with families, networks and friends in a Wealth Society that is increasingly blurry and noisy. Great intellectuals, dedicated activists, star politicians and media celebrities have very little to do with this. Nonetheless, the structural effects are causing a new form of systemic crisis. I will turn to this now.

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The current crisis The bust of the dot.com ­bubble in 2000 brought an end to the high growth-­rate of the late 1990s, but with housing prices keeping the pace and then exploding in the mid-­2000s, the early 2000s appeared to be only a short and temporary setback. However, in 2007, the mania that had reached macroeconomic proportions, started to mellow, and with the financial crisis breaking out in 2008, we witnessed a free fall of GDP in rich countries for about a year. In Denmark, the GDP fell by seven percent in 2008-­2009, and throughout the rich countries of the world, the tendency for falling growth rates that had been clouded by manic behaviour and mindsets for more than a decade, returned with a vengeance. Even the world GDP fell in 2009 – for the first time in the postwar period. Whereas the structural economic growth level had fallen below the magic two percent that are required for a prosperous Wealth Society already in the 1990s, until 2008 it seemed that this was not the case. In the light of the Wealth Society, the significance of the current crisis is that the growth level is now less than one percent and still heading down, and thus we will most likely never again experience periods of sustained high growth. Of course economic growth might again rise above two percent, but in that case it will most likely only remain just above the magic number for a very short time, and afterwards we will suffer yet another severe downturn. So the future of the Wealth Society looks very gloomy indeed. Degrowth is not so much a political goal or an intellectual stance: “Degrowth is here” (Berardi 2009: 218). It is a fact, right here, right now, structurally if not empirically. Of course, crisis does not necessarily mean breakdown. It can actually lead to the opposite: the reinvigoration of the social order. This was the case with the crisis of the 1930s that eventually led to the welfare states and a resulting 30-­year period of stability and prosperity in Western societies. A similar but less profound and widespread process followed the crisis of the 1970s, since the 1990s can be seen as in part a period of substantial social and political advances with the fall of the Communist Block, the Internet and personal computers, better working and living conditions for many people etc. But this crisis is not comparable to the two great crises of the 20th century, and I find it unlikely that we will experience a similar sort of crisis solution in this century. The motor for crisis solutions in the past century was resistance and dissent in their traditional forms. Firstly, the labour movement and later in the century a variety of other movements and forms of dissent provided feedback to the system, making temporary solutions to persistent crisis tendencies possible.

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In the light of the formation of the Wealth Society, this process can be summarized as innovations in prevalent institutions and identities providing sufficient improvements to satisfy the great majority of the population for a while and simultaneously keeping up economic growth. The welfare state was very good at that, and since the 1980s changes in consumption patterns, life forms, the state, working life and a variety of other social forms have to a certain degree created the necessary social coherence and prosperity to stabilize the social order until the outbreak of the current crisis. Degrowth as dissent brings this dynamic to a halt. Traditional dissent provi­ des input for the system that can bring about innovation and improvements and thus push crises into the background. The globalization movement and climate protests could have brought about a new crisis solution and a corresponding new growth regime with greater global equality and ‘green’ jobs, consumption and technology in the rich countries. Occupy could have brought about democratic changes in the economic-­political institutions. However, this did not happen, since the feedbacks were too weak and fleeting. And I see no reason to expect a significant rise in traditional dissent in the future. The system is stagnating, not only economically, but in a general sense and as a deep historical tendency. With the Wealth Society and degrowth as dissent, the social dynamic where critique and resistance is the motor of change and broad systemic responses, as theorized by for instance Hardt and Negri (2000) and Boltanski and Chiapello (2005), no longer constitutes a major historical driving force. It recedes to the background of the historical drama. No feedback at all that can promote economic growth is provided by degrowth. From the system’s point of view, degrowth is meaningless. Ask any economist or politician and you will know. This means that there is no new crisis solution in sight. Innovations will occur but growth will not be restored. The current crisis is permanent, and it evolves slowly and discontinuously as indicated by various economic growth patterns in different countries and regions. As a result of this new configuration, I expect the future prospects to be no way near the historical experiences of the 20th century that still have enormous impact on critical theory and Leftist politics. So what does the future of the Wealth Society hold?

Prospects for the future? Both reforms and revolutions are probably relics of the past. This dualism has haunted the Left for centuries and has been met with numerous solutions and syntheses. However, in our current situation, I do not think that it is a question

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of either-­or (see for instance Jackson 2009; Stiglitz 2013) or even of both-­and (see for instance Mezzadra 2010; Hardt and Negri 2009; Christensen, Nielsen and Poulsen 2102: 88-­92). It is a question of neither-­nor. Revolutions or reforms of the social order presuppose an active and coherent social subject with a long-­term dedication for a particular social change. Such a social subject does not exist. There is surely a lot of dissent and discontent in the world today, but not of the sort that leads to revolutions. For a revolution to happen, both sudden and lasting breakdowns of the institutional framework are necessary. Today, there is no common belief in a different set of institutions for a better society and no one to bring it about. No common sense of a desirable overall direction exists – there is no shared vision or Utopia. In this sense at least, the condition is postmodern (Lyotard 1984) and we are positioned after the future, as Berardi (2011) argues. The future understood as a coherent, predictable and progressive development has ended together with economic growth. And this also means that “[t]he prospect open to us is not a revolution. The concept of revolution no longer corresponds to anything” (Berardi 2012: 64). The sort of reformism that we witnessed in the 20th century is not likely to happen in the 21st century either. A reformist process presupposes a healthy set of institutions to carry through the reforms, but the institutions of the Wealth Society are in a state of deep decay, and no other institutions of the same magnitude exist or are likely to come about. No new institutions or identities of the same magnitude as the welfare state, the labour movement, environmentalists, or Leftists can be expected to (re)emerge in the 21st century. What we are experiencing is rather institutional inertia in the face of a surrounding vacuum. The current institutional and ecological decay will probably continue. There is a certain fatality in this process, and from the negative side it can be characterized as a “catastrophe in slow motion” (Baudrillard 1993: 37; see also Baudrillard 1990). Or as Berardi (2011: 126) writes: “the future no longer appears as a choice or a collective conscious action, but is a kind of unavoidable catastrophe that we cannot oppose in any way”. Probably, global climate change is the best example of this new (non-­)historical imagination. However, there is not only a negative side to these prospects. We will probably experience an accelerated historical countertendency for new institutions and identities of a smaller magnitude to be formed and developed alongside the corruption of the macroscopic social order. Local or regional experiments and alternatives will surface and develop – and can be networked through techno­ logy in order to create a vibrant parallel development. Such a development entails elements of the multitude, with an emphasis on singularity (Hardt and Negri 2004; Christensen, Nielsen and Poulsen 2012:

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69-­95), but without the grand narrative or revolutionary ramifications of the work of Hardt and Negri. At the same time, the development of degrowth as a new form of dissent in the Wealth Society contains important aspects of the masses, so brilliantly captured in Baudrillard’s (2007) anti-­sociology. No judgment can be made on the validity or precise combination of such elements of current agency as yet, but generally the blend of Marxism and post-­structuralism by Hardt and Negri can benefit from a few (more) doses of postmodernism. Perhaps Hardt and Negri’s concept of exodus in combination with Gorz’ understanding of a dual society in a context of contemporary Wealth Society is a useful starting point here. From Hardt and Negri (2009: 160) we know that exodus is the most important form of class struggle today, and this primarily takes the forms of the transformation of the self and the creation of new institutions, or perhaps, the reflection of degrowth as dissent; in the words of Berardi (2012: 68), “an insurrection of slowness, withdrawal, and exhaustion”. From Gorz (1982) we know that no exodus or withdrawal is ever total or complete, and that two distinct spheres of society with essentially different characteristics can be separated. Gorz and a major trend in degrowth theory including Latouche (2010) basically envision a centrally planned expansion of the sphere of autonomy and sustainability through for instance reductions in working hours and the sharing of work, but in the future we will more likely see complex forms of exodus from the Wealth Society that are neither planned, coordinated nor coherent. Various individuals, groups and networks will in various degrees live their lives ‘outside’ the heteronomous Wealth Society: reduce work and consumption, care for other people and the environment, drop out of mediatized politics, skip news and formal education and so on (see also Berardi 2009: 219; 2011: 148). With the accumulating decay of the Wealth Society and the proliferation of networks, small scale institutions and identities that are more or less distant from the established social order, eventually a new social order will arise. However, this will not be the result of some grand dialectic or coherent process, and what will come about remains to be seen and interpreted. Having no future also means having no clue about the general prospects; left or right, good or bad, this or that.

Bibliography Arvidsson,  A. (2006) Brands. Meaning and Value in Media Culture. Oxon and New York: Routledge. Baudrillard, J. (1990) Fatal Strategies. London: Pluto Press. Baudrillard, J. (1993) The Transparency of Evil. Essays on Extreme Phenomena. London and Brooklyn: Verso.

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Baudrillard,  J. (2007) In the Shadow of the Silent Majorities. Los Angeles: Semiotext(e). Berardi,  F. “Bifo” (2009) The Soul at Work. From Alienation to Autonomy. Los Angeles: Semiotext(e). Berardi,  F. “Bifo” (2011) After the Future. Edinburgh, Oakland and Baltimore: AK Press. Berardi,  F. “Bifo” (2012) The Uprising. On Poetry and Finance. Los Angeles: Semiotext(e). Boltanski, L. & Chiapello, E. (2005) The New Spirit of Capitalism. London and New York: Verso. Christensen, P., Nielsen, P. & Poulsen, L. (2012) Magt og modstand. En introduktion til Michael Hardt og Antonio Negris tænkning. [Power and resistance. An Introduction to the Thought of Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri]. Frederiksberg: Frydenlund. Gorz, A. (1982) Farewell to the Working Class. An Essay on Post-­Industrial Socialism. London: Pluto Press. Gorz, A. (2010) The immaterial. Calcutta: Seagull Books. Hardt, M. & Negri, A. (2000) Empire. Cambridge and London: Harvard University Press. Hardt, M. & Negri, A. (2004) Multitude. War and Democracy in the Age of Empire. New York: The Penguin Press. Hardt, M. & Negri, A. (2009) Commonwealth. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Harvey, D. (2010) The Enigma of Capital – and the Crises of Capitalism. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press. Jackson, T. (2009) Prosperity Without Growth. Economics for a Finite Planet. London and New York: Earthscan. Jessop, B. (2002) The Future of the Capitalist State. Cambridge: Polity Press. Klein, N. (2000) No Logo. Taking Aim at the Brand Bullies. New York: Picador. Latouche, S. (2010) Farewell to Growth. Cambridge and Malden: Polity Press. Lyotard, J-­F. (1984) The Postmodern Condition: A Report on Knowledge. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Mezzadra, S. (2010) “Introduction” in Andrea Fumagalli and Sandra Mezzadra (eds.): Crises in the Global Economy. Los Angeles: Semiotext(e).

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Moulier Boutang, Y. (2011) Cognitive Capitalism. Cambridge and Malden: Polity Press. Nielsen,  P. (2011) Velstandssamfundet [The Wealth Society]. Frederiksberg: Frydenlund. Scott, J. C. (1990) Domination and the Arts of Resistance – Hidden Transcripts. New Haven: Yale University Press. Stiglitz, J. (2013) The Price of Inequality. London: Penguin Books.

Martin Bak Jørgensen & Óscar García Agustín

Nine Theses on Dissent Abstract In nine theses of dissent the editors of the volume on Politics of Dissent as the title suggests put forth nine theses on not only the content of dissent but also the implications for social and political change. By unravelling the concept of dissent the chapter shows firstly why dissent can be analysed as a form of politics and how this particular type of politics is linked to agency. Dissent opens up the understanding of democracy. It brings out the oppositional voices, conflicts and disengagements. It brings in the people.

#1 Dissent is the questioning of consensus ‘There is no alternative’ said David Cameron in his austerity defense for budget cuts. The TINA slogan was not developed by Cameron but draws on Margaret Thatcher’s defense for economic liberalism and capitalist globalisation. We also hear it from the EU Troika when it argues in favour of austerity measures in Greece, Slovenia and Spain, or in relation to the extraterritorialization, marketization and privatization of the asylum regime. The problem is that this is not true. Not in the slightest. There is indeed an alternative. Dissent is exactly the active questioning and problematisation of consensus and the taking for granted. Dissent takes place in academia when, in Michel Foucault’s words, we seek “to make facile gestures difficult” (1988: 154). It takes place in everyday consumption patterns when we start questioning the modes of production. It takes place in collective struggles like the Occupy movements on a global scale when protesters begin to question the legitimacy of the distribution of wealth, when refugees protest against the arbitrariness of access to protection, housing and health, when the anti-­foreclosure movement in Spain problematizes that companies can go bankrupt, but a private person cannot and carries the debt with her forever. Dissent is the active insistence on another possibility, of the conviction that dissenting can lead to social and political transformation. It is the active call for­ and belief in another alternative and what spurs the Spanish slogan of ¡Sí se puede! – podemos.

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#2 Dissent is the re-­politization of post-­politics Dissent is the questioning of consensus (#1) and the constitution of political subjectivities (#2). From this it follows that dissent is politics. Dissent is a political vocabulary that makes sense of popular protests and mobilizations from below. It is the voice of the insurgent. In our understanding, dissent is not anti-­politics, it is the opposite. It is the active and deliberate engagement with the social and political order. Practices and articulations of dissent challenge political consensus that has legitimized precarization, social exclusion and sustained depolitization of practices and growing inequalities (Agamben et  al., 2011; Douzinas & Žižek, 2010). Dissent re-politizises the social order by rearticulating disputes and conflicts. Re-­politization is also about introducing new affections, emotions and indignations; that which constitutes people as human beings. Dissent is a new language presenting a radical critique against post-­democracy and post-­politics. Whereas the latter assumes that “everyone is already included in politics and that remaining problems can be dealt with through expert systems” (Diken, 2009: 583) dissent is the active voice saying that this is not the case; it is the reappropriation of politics.

#3 Dissent is constitutive of political subjectivity In They Can’t Represent Us! Sitrin and Azzelinni bring in the voice of one of the participants of the ‘Real Democracy Now’ movement in Barcelona (2014: 131-­2). Aitor recalls a meeting in the movement taking place in a bar. An elderly man working as a security guard follows the meeting and keeps walking around. Aitor thought he was the bar’s guard and there was a problem because they were not consuming, and they decided to shift location. Hearing the call to go, the old man follows the group. It turns out that he is frustrated about the system and has decided to join the movement of the protesters. Dissent is a practice, which is constitutive of political subjectivity. People who have not previously seen themselves as political subjects and political agents in collective actions form a consciousness of being able to raise their voices and formulate critiques. Collective campaigns such as ‘A Day Without Immigrants’ in 2006 organized by Latino immigrants in the United States (Longhi, 2013) and the ‘24 sans nous’ in France in 2010, where migrants discontinued their work and stopped consuming to show what life would be like without immigrants demonstrate how agency can be assumed and provide an example of the emergence of new political subjectivities. Similar processes can be detected among the refugees’ struggles currently taking place in Germany and Ireland, where refugees who escaped from the NATO military intervention in Libya in 2011 have now organized themselves and turned

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claims of protection into a political struggle against the Dublin II regulations, Frontex and the EU approach to asylum in general.

#4 Dissent is the politics of the collective Politics of dissent differ from the traditional depictions of historical figures of dissent. The focus is not on individuals who incarnate the struggle against authoritarian regimes or the defence of human rights. Although this perspective is very respectable, we are not interested in the ways in which social and political struggles become individualized in recognized personalities, but rather the opposite: how singularities may be identified as part of the collective struggles. The appearance in the 80s in Mexico of the popular Superbarrio, helping people affected by an earthquake to rebuild the city, is a clear example of the collective citizen replacing the individualized citizen. The anonymity provided by the mask and the hero’s action to serve the people made it irrelevant to ask about his personal identity. The idea was that all of us were Superbarrio. The power of anonymity is also what characterizes the thousands of protesters wearing Guy Fawkes masks and reproduces the confluence of singularities into one collective: “We are Legion”. The politics of dissent consist in connecting individual experiences with a collective struggle. Dissent is the expression of oppositional voices, the manifestation of disagreement and the questioning of consensus. The public intellectuals and their theories can be seen within the collective production. Furthermore, concepts such as multitude (Hardt & Negri), people (Laclau & Mouffe) or depolarized pluralities (Soussa Santos) are trying to capture the relation between the singular and the collective.

#5 Dissent is the everyday political contestation and practice Although we understand dissent as a collective process, it is rooted in everyday practices. Despite its individual appearance, in all these forms of dissent, people are sharing a sense of disagreement with the dominant system. Most of the time, dissent can be invisible (as in some practices that question the productivity of working hours, the gender division, the habits of consumption), though reflecting positions that are already socialized. For this reason, it is not surprising that some forms of open dissent must be traced in more invisible (or disguised) practices. The person who does not accept the consumist logic of buying 2x3 products and buys according to her needs and takes only one product, shares the rejection of hyperconsumption with the more organized groups that promote alternatives for sustainable production and consumption. This is the case of Movimento per la Decrescita Felice (The Happy Degrowth Movement), in which

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alternative life styles based on an informal organization started organizing themselves and making explicit their critique of capitalist growth, showing the negative impact of an increasing GDP on quality of life. The shift from the disguised everyday dissent to the public arena can be produced through the use of political moments of gradual processes of organising to create new institutions.

#6 Politics of dissent use moments Dissent can be sparked by triggering events. Enough is enough. The bus ticket increase of 0.30 Brazilian Reals (~0.10 €) in May 2013 in Goiânia, Brazil, caused thousands of people to take to the streets, calling for political change. The now famous call from Canadian-­based Adbuster in July 2011 triggered the coming-­ into-­being of Occupy Wall Street (and Occupy manifestations elsewhere). The shooting of the afro-­American teenager Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri, triggered mobilizations against racism, exclusion and inequalities in US society. Cuts to and privatization of the National Health Service, cuts to the education system and persistent inequalities and precarization brought 100,000 people on the steets in London in the end of October 2014. Protesting not only against the particular budget cuts, the protesters expressed their dissent against the challenges towards democracy in general, using the notion of Occupy Democracy to call for social and political change. This is what politics of dissent looks like. We can identify hundreds of such triggering events. Dissent is also triggered by systemic events. The global recession and the selected austerity measures to combat this, alongside persistent and growing inequalities, caused a political and organic crisis which created a political space for collective dissent and mobilizations. Collective dissent evolves through these moments, which open up new political spaces.

#7 Dissent needs institutions Referring to the possibilities of social change, Michael Hardt points out that “the struggle is not spontaneous, we need to organize ourselves” (In Gainza, 2006). This is a major challenge, also for elaborating politics of dissent. The everyday practices of dissent and the use of the political moments do not ensure the continuity of dissent and a strong development from the negative moment of dissent to a propositive one. There is a need of organization or, in other words, of creating new institutions upon which dissent can rely. Zapatistas in Mexico have been capable of creating completely new institutions such as the Juntas de Buen Gobierno and the Caracoles, which allow for the strengthening of the everyday forms of dissent and provide a sense of continuity to diverse political moments (from

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the insurgent moment in 1994 to the March for Dignity in 2001 and the foundation of autonomy in 2003). Stable and alternative institutions dissenting from the dominant institutionalized order are possible. Social centres have always fostered political and cultural practices confronted with hegemonic practices, and social experiments like Christiania in Denmark have tried to redefine social relations under dissenting assumptions that questioned the existing social conventions. Moving away from the squares, the occupiers and indignados faced the question of how to add continuity to their struggles and create new institutions. Dissent is the basis of those institutions and the guarantee of their continuity.

#8 Dissent is constantly in a state of reproduction and change ‘We do not know what we want -­but we know what we don’t want’ – this has been the slogan of many collective actions of protests globally. For critiques of the potential of social mobilizations, this is the weakness. We learn through the established political system and processes of decision-­making that we need clearly defined goals to achieve success. Claims must cause resonance, consistency and credibility in order to have an effect on the political decision-­making processes. This message is also repressive, however, as it masks the privileged position of different actors in the political system. This is what feeds consensus, what has spurred the de-­ideologization of political debate, and what works at removing/silencing the possibilities of radical critique. Politics of dissent challenge this system of preserving the status quo. It is what reveals the crisis of representation (#9). It claims that the goal is part of the process. Occupy Wall Street did not change the economic system, nor has the Indignados movement done away with capitalism, but such articulations of politics of dissent have changed the discourse and rhetorics of money, wealth and growth. The struggle for change continues. Politics of dissent begin with a ‘No’ (Holloway), and the path to change defines what is to be. It is what Slovenian researchers Maple Razsa and Andrej Kurnik have termed ‘politics-­of-­becoming’ (2012). In their article, they quote a Slovenian activist taking part in Occupy Ljubljana: “This is a politics of small steps that accumulate new forms of alternative power that can be used in the war being waged globally by financial institutions, markets and the institutions of representative democracy against our generation […] The goal of action is not freedom itself but processes of liberation, the struggle to resist the actual conditions in which we find ourselves today. In this sense, the process of producing together new claims, new rights […], [is] as important as the content of the rights” (ibid: 250). This illustrates well the constant reproduction of politics of dissent. It is dynamic and in constant change.

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#9 Dissent is a corrective of the flaws of representative democracy ‘This is what democracy looks like’ has become a globally used slogan. It is used in Athens, Madrid, New York. It signals the value of direct (or radical, real, participatory) democracy and directs actions as opposed to the disenfranchisement caused by representative democracy. Representation of whom, the protesters ask? Rancière argues that representation is “an oligarchic form, a representation of minorities who are entitled to take charge of public affairs […] Nor is the vote a democratic form by which the people makes its voice heard. It is originally the expression of a consent […].” He goes on to stress that “[o]riginally representation was the exact contrary of democracy” (Rancière, 2009: 53). Politics of dissent claim that democracy is not about integration or inclusion into the political system but about transforming the political system. Politics of dissent are about undoing the consensus and making the invisible visible. Dissent opens up the understanding of democracy. It brings out the oppositional voices, conflicts and disengagements. It brings in the people. Following Rancière, “[d]emos thus does not designate a socially inferior category: The one who speaks when s/he is not to speak, the one who part-­takes in what s/he has no part in – that person belongs to the demos” (Rancière, 2001). We claim that the people are the subjects of democracy and politics; not the elected elites and the political parties. Dissent is the visibilization of those who have no part. Like rights, democracy must be taken.

Bibliography Agamben, G., Badiou, A, Bensaid, D, et  al. (2011) Democracy in What State? New York: Columbia University Press. Azzellini, D. & Sitrin, M. (2014) They Can’t Represent Us!: Reinventing Democracy from Greece to Occupy. London: Verso. Diken, B. (2009) “Radical Critique as the Paradox of Post-­Political Society”, Third Text, Vol. 23(5): 579-­586. Douzinas,  C. & Žižek, S. (2010) “Introduction: The Idea of Communism”, in (eds) Douzinas & Žižek, The Idea of Communism. London: Verso, vii-­x. Foucault,  M. (1988) “Practicing criticism” (trans. A.  Sheridan et  al.). In  L.D. Kritzman (ed.) Politics, Philosophy, Culture: Interviews and Other Writings, 1977-­1984. New York: Routledge, 152-­158. Gainza, P. (2006) “Entrevista a Michael Hardt. La lucha no es espontánea, necesitamos organizarnos”. Revista del Sur, 163: 42–45.

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Isin, E. & Nielsen, G. M. (eds) (2008) Acts of citizenship. London: Zed Books. Longhi, V. (2013) The immigrant war: A global movement against discrimination and exploitation. London: Policy Press. Rancière, J. (2001) “Ten Thesis on Politics”, Theory & Event, Vol. 5(3). Rancière, R. (2009) Hatred of Democracy. London: Verso. Razsa, M. & Kurnik, A. (2012) “The Occupy Movement in Žižek’s hometown: Direct democracy and politics of belonging”, American Ethnologist, Vol. 39(2): 238-­258.

Notes on editors and contributors Editors MARTIN BAK JØRGENSEN is associate professor at the Department of Culture and Global Studies at Aalborg University (Denmark). He works within fields of sociology, political sociology and political science. He has published within welfare studies, discrimination, precarity and inequalities, migration studies, social movement studies and new mobilisations against austerity. He is currently working on new social movements focusing especially on welfare chauvinism, policy changes, responses to the economic crisis and new democratic participation. With Óscar García Agustín he has co-­edited special issue of Migration Letters ‘Civil society and immigration -­New ways of democratic transformation’. He has published in International Migration Review, JIMI, BJPIR amongst others. He is currently co-­editing the volume Solidarity Beyond Borders: Gramscian perspectives on migration and civil society alliances on Pluto Press together with Óscar García Agustín. ÓSCAR GARCÍA AGUSTÍN is associate professor at the Department of Culture and Global Studies at Aalborg University (Denmark). He has published several articles on social movements, civil society, and political and discourse theory. With Martin Bak Jørgensen he has coedited the special issue ‘Civil Society and Immigration: New Ways of Democratic Transformation’ (Migration Letters, 2013) and Post-­Crisis Perspectives. The Common and its Powers together with Christian Ydesen. He is author of Discourse and Zapatista Autonomy (Peter Lang, 2013) and Sociology of Discourse. Institutionalization and Social Change (John Benjamins, 2015).

Contributors ERIK CHRISTENSEN is former associate professor of social science at Aalborg University, where he taught political philosophy. He has written books and articles on basic income, ecological economics and sustainable development. His latest book on basis income is: The Heretical Political Discourse. A Discourse Analysis of the Danish Debate on Basic Income (2008). Today he is especially engaged in Borgerlønsbevægelsen (BIEN Denmark): and blogger at the Danish Internet portal Modkraft. See . Homepage: .

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GIUSEPPE COCCO is professor at the Federal University of Rio de Janeiro (UFRJ). He holds a master degree in Political Science and a PhD in Social History. He is a founding member of the network Universidade Nômade. His main fields of research are tranformation processes of work, cognitive capitalism, and development. With Antonio Negri, he is the author of GlobAL: Biopower and Struggles in a Globalized Latin America (Paidos, 2006), Mundobraz: the becoming-­Brazil of the world and the becoming-­world of Brazil (Record, 2009; translated into Spanish: Traficantes de Sueños, 2012). His most recent book is KorpoBraz: por uma política dos corpos (Mauad, 2014). ANDREA FUMAGALLI is professor of economics in the Department of Economics and Management at University of Pavia. He is member of Effimera Network, founder member of Bin-­Italy (Basic Income Network, Italy) and member of the Executive Committee of BIEN (Basic Income Earth Network). He is active in the San Precario network. Among his recent publications, Bioeconomics and Cognitive Capitalism: towards a new accumulation paradigm, Carocci, Roma, 2007; The crisis of the Global Economy. Financial markets, social struggles and new political scenarios, Semiotext(e), Mit Press, 2010; “A Financialized Monetary Economy of Production”, International journal of political economy, vol. 41, 2012 (with S. Lucarelli); “Cognitive Biocapitalism, the Precarity Trap, and Basic Income: Post-­Crisis Perspectives”, in Post-­Crisis Perspectives, Peter Lang, 2012; “Cognitive Bio-­capitalism, social reproduction and the precarity trap: why not basic income?”, in Knowledge Cultures, 1 (4), 2013 (with C. Morini). JUSTIN AK HELEPOLOEI is a graduate student in the Department of Anthropology at the University of Massachusetts Amherst. His research and activism have focused on collective action: related to housing in Southern Europe; and migration, education and detention on the US/Mexican border. UGBUDIAN LUCKY IGOHOSA lectures at the Department of History and Strategic Studies, Faculty of Humanities and Social sciences, Federal University Ndufu-­Alike, Ikwo (FUNAI), Nigeria. He trained at the University of Ibadan, Nigeria for undergraduate and graduate studies where he read History, and Peace and Conflict Studies respectively. He is presently a doctoral candidate at the Department of History and International Studies, University of Uyo, Nigeria. His areas of interest include peace and conflict, governance, trade union, oil and gas, electoral violence as well as Latin American history which he has published papers on.

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SANDRO NICKEL is a PhD fellow/teaching assistant professor in the Department of Culture and Global Studies at Aalborg University (Denmark). He is currently working on a PhD project analyzing Germany’s, Britain’s and the EU’s anti-­terrorism policies from a human rights perspective. PETER NIELSEN is an associate professor in Political Economy at Roskilde University (Denmark). His current research is on (de)growth and mediatization of politics and the economy in the context of 21st century crises. He has (co) authored several books in Danish on such issues as philosophy of science, history of economic thought and contemporary political economic development. CHRISTIAN YDESEN is assistant professor and post.doc. at Aalborg University (Denmark). He holds a ph.d degree in the history of education from Aarhus University. He has been a visiting scholar at the University of Edinburgh, UK, and the University of Birmingham, UK. He has published the book The Rise of High-­Stakes Testing in Denmark, 1920-­1970  and co-­edited Post-­Crisis Perspectives -­The Common and its Powers together with Óscar García Agustín. He has written several articles on topics such as the history of educational accountability, history of psychology, history of educational testing, intercultural philosophy, basic income, the political philosophy of Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri, and the disciplining effects of the contemporary work regime. YAVUZ YILDIRIM is assistant professor at Nigde University-­Turkey, Department of Political Science and International Relations since 2012. He received his master degree at Hacettepe University, 2006 and Phd degree at Ankara University, 2012, both in Political Science. His research areas are radical democracy, social movements, especially anti/alter globalization and Social Forums, and grass-­root actions.

Martin Bak Jørgensen / Óscar García Agustín (eds.)

Politics of Dissent of current social movements in Brazil, Turkey, Nigeria, Spain and the US exemplify practices of dissent. The Editors Martin Bak Jørgensen is Associate Professor at the Department of Culture and Global Studies, Aalborg University. Óscar García Agustín is Associate Professor at the Department of Culture and Global Studies, Aalborg University.

Political and Social Change 1

Martin Bak Jørgensen / Óscar García Agustín (eds.)

Politics of Dissent

Politics of Dissent

There are alternatives to neoliberal market economies: basic income, the money of the common and degrowth. This study highlights the potential of dissent from the initial questioning of the dominant system to the creation of new political agendas. It discusses the multiple manifestations of dissent and their contributions to shaping political alternatives; it also takes a closer look at organizations and the challenge they face trying to establish forms of resistance. The struggles

1 M. Bak Jørgensen / Ó. García Agustín (eds.)

Political and Social Change 1

POSC 01_266094_Bak_GR_A5HC PLE edition new.indd 1

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