12/7/14

the power of protest theater

I finally made it out to a protest last night in Berkeley over state violence and police brutality, hearing about the march from my fellow dance-flashmobbers. I’m in a group called GUST (Get Up Street Theater), wherein we show up at protests and do one of two dances—one that’s about the environment, and the other that’s related to military industrial complex, state violence, and police brutality.

Our dances—especially in the case of our “Toxic” dance, done to Britney Spears’ top hit song from the early oughts of the same name—is a little bit cutesy. Sometimes it feels like being in a protest cheer leading group. But the point is that it makes onlookers watch, a bit engrossed in the sudden theatrics and the loud music. People put their guard down, which is something most random passerbys don’t do when they see a protest. It lets us get our message across and makes it memorable.

Up until yesterday, I felt that going to a rally, a protest, or a march and doing our dances would make other participants of the general action a little uplifted, inspired, or at the very least, amused. But one of the times we did it last night…it missed the mark. It detracted from the crowd’s collective rhythm of their chants: “I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.” It felt like it added to the impending chaos of that moment when we came upon the headquarters for the Berkeley Police Department. Only a few minutes after we finished the dance, the police began shooting tear gas and the crowd dispersed into a frenzy.

The timing and the use of it matters a ton. Last night, I felt bad that we were detracting from the leaders of the march. It really didn’t help that none of us in GUST are people of color..

Despite my misgivings about this particular protest last night, I still believe in the power of theater in direct actions.

Die in at University of Wisconsin-MilwaukeeSolidarity with Ferguson, University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee Die-In [Source]

Many of the more well-known aspects of these protests is the powerful use of theatrics. Hundreds of people holding their hands up, saying don’t shoot. A die-in in the middle of a busy square or street. Students dragging twin-sized dorm mattresses across campuses to represent the weight of the burden of living in a sexist, misogynist system that doesn’t do enough to take care of rape victims. These convey powerful images that get at the heart of these institutional transgressions. They empower people across state and national boundaries, and maybe just as importantly, they help these protests make the evening news in a way that can cut through the incessant mainstream media’s emphasis on the rioting and violence on the fringes of these larger actions.

What’s exciting about this isn’t just that protest theater has been so effective in these recent demonstrations, it’s also that there’s tons of more room for experimentation.

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11/30/14

a collection of readings on Ferguson+racism in the US

When St. Louis County prosecutor, Robert McCulloch, announced that the grand jury would not be indicting officer Darren Wilson for murdering Michael Brown, it was a glaring reminder, or rather, an affirmation, that the justice system is dysfunctional, subjective, and racist.

Map of Nationwide Ferguson Protests

Every time I heard someone whose first reaction is to condemn the rioting, the destruction, and the direct actions that were purposefully disruptive, I’ve made them confront the fact that they’re placing more value on the property that is destroyed over the loss of a human life. No, the loss of hundreds, thousands of lives—black and brown people killed by law enforcement, who get away with it with impunity over and over and over again. Even if rioting is counterproductive, even if it destroys the livelihood of local people, it doesn’t even compare to the atrocity of a system that enables its officials to shoot and kill people and children. It’s a system that discourages and rejects investigations into what happened, who is at fault, and to create a proper remedy that will let families and communities heal and to discourage these murders from happening again.

Our justice system is supposed to be able to resolve conflicts and hold everyone accountable to the same rules, so that people don’t feel the need to take matters into their own hands. When state actors disregard the rules that apply to everyone else, that violates public faith in legal institutions. Which is why cops need to be held accountable more than anyone else—they’re afforded the power to uphold and embody the law. If they don’t even abide by the law themselves, how can the public be expected to respect their authority?

Anyway. I was pretty sick again this week, so I didn’t have the energy to participate in commenting on any of this on Twitter. But I did have the energy to read…and in this past week there has been some of the most thoughtful, heart-wrenching writing and news commentary on racism in America in light of what’s gone down/going down in Ferguson. I’m sure this doesn’t cover it all but I thought I’d compile the ones that helped me, at least, make sense of this all.

Black Lives Matter — Jay Smooth’s New Illipses Video

If there’s one you should read or watch, it’s this one. This is for the people who think that mere destruction of property is remotely as horrifying as people regularly getting murdered by law enforcement. It’s powerfully articulate and gets to the root of the problem of systemic racism. [You can also read a transcript of it]

That unrest we saw Monday night was a byproduct of the injustice that preceded it.
This is not a choice, this is a cause-and-effect relationship. If you’re worried about the effects, you need to be thinking about the cause.
Riots are a thing that human beings do because human beings have limits.
We don’t all have the same limits. For some of us, our human limit is when our favorite team loses a game. For some of us, it’s when our favorite team wins a game.

The people of Ferguson had a different limit than that.


The Parable of the Unjust Judge or: Fear of a Nigger Nation

Black people desperately tried to defend Michael Brown, pointing out that he was a child, that he was gentle, that he never got into any trouble, that he was going to college. If we fail to name the battleground being fought upon, this fight over what narrative to impose on the details of Brown’s life might seem oddly tangential to the argument over the circumstances of his death. So let’s be clear about the stakes of this conflict: we are trying to decide whether or not Michael Brown was a nigger. A dead human being is a tragedy that needs to be investigated and accounted for. A dead nigger doesn’t even need to be mourned, much less its death justified.


NY Times: What Happened in Ferguson?

I still don’t know much about the rules and procedures of grand juries. But it seems that it’s incredibly rare for them to refuse to hand down an indictment. This chart compares a typical grand jury indictment process to the one applied to Darren Wilson’s case.

nytimesindictmentcomparison


Burning Ferguson

Sarah Kendzior, in my opinion, is one of the best journalists out there right now. Her pieces are consistently excellent in teasing out and analyzing the power dynamics of various current events, and she does it again with Ferguson.

These phenomena—white flight, decaying poor neighborhoods, struggles over gentrification—are not unique to St. Louis, but understanding their history has made it especially tragic to watch the black neighborhoods of Ferguson be victimized all over again in recent weeks, losing in many cases, what businesses they did have.
When St. Louis burns, it does not rebuild. All around the region are ruins of what was: rotting homes, shattered windows, empty factories, broken communities. West Florissant’s destruction is not London in 2011 or Seattle in 1999: it is the destruction, possibly permanent, of the resources of the vulnerable.


Today in Tabs: I Will Only Bleed Here

A powerful intro to Bijan Stephens’ piece in This Week in Tabs, his collection of even more powerful commentary on Ferguson.

I am the only black person on the editorial floor at my place of employment. The other ones who look like me work as cleaners or in the mailroom. When we lock eyes I nod, and it is both the easiest and hardest thing in the world. I know nothing of their lives, and yet here we are the same. Today I will do this. We will share a look that encompasses last night’s indignities and acknowledges tomorrow’s. We will keep our heads down and our hearts guarded, and I will only bleed here, in words, on this page.


What white people need to know, and do, after Ferguson

Black communities are ultimately protesting systems of injustice and inequality that structurally help white people while systematically harming black people. Just because you’re white and therefore generally benefit from those systems doesn’t mean you inherently support those systems — or need to defend them. Benefiting from white privilege is automatic. Defending white privilege is a choice.

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11/15/14

The Church of Market

we kneel at the Church of Market.
our Holy Purpose is to raise the value of our shares.

faithful are those,
who have sacrificed the earth,
the commons,
our humanity,
at the altar of the Divine Profit.

regulations, are an abomination—

limits on righteous work are the work of the depraved.
they must always be demolished
for the good of the Market.

let us praise the blessed Lords Investors—
which has graced us with the strength to fight such villainy
and let our faith flow through the halls of the State.
one-by-one
we will vanquish these restraints.

let us prevail in this O Divine Profit,
let us prevail.

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11/9/14

a spoonful of conference makes my anxieties go down!

Tomorrow, I’m going home to San Francisco. I’ve spent the last four days here in Warsaw, Poland and I came to attend CopyCamp, an internationalconference that brought together advocates, academics, lawyers, and collecting societies to have a multi-sided debate about the state of copyright and its impact on creators and access to knowledge and culture. I gave a talk on Friday about building a transnational peer-to-peer user rights movement, describing my work with the organizations I partner and coordinate with on campaigns on the Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP) agreement, the Transatlantic Trade and Investment Partnership (TTIP), and others. People really seemed to like it, and it even got voted as one of the top three best talks of the conference out of the more than 70 presentations. :D

Every time I come to an event like this, where I meet new people working on similar issues, I come away feeling fuzzy, bubbly, and inspired. Cuz the thing is, doing activism can be really disheartening. You’re up against big politically influential entities, and you often can’t see or measure the impact of your daily or even weekly projects. All the time, I question if I’m doing things the right way or the most effectively. I wonder If I’m spending too much time on Twitter, or too little to share current news or conversations. Should I be spending more time studying and learning every legal nuance of copyright policy, or is that counterproductive because it makes me lose sight of the larger discussions, making it harder for me to talk about this stuff in a way that I can get the every day person to understand and to get ‘em riled up?

When I meet others in the copyright activism world, it calms me down about my anxieties. Having even a casual conversation with someone can get me inspired to have more faith in my methods, or to even become curious to challenge them. When I hear a story or find out about some other copyright wackiness that I didn’t know about, it makes me determined to read up about it until I’ve properly filled that gap in my knowledge.

But what I’ve also come to realize in the past few years is that I’m not built to be a lawyer, nor an academic. I’m never going to be sufficiently detailed in my policy knowledge, and I’m actually okay with that. I get excited and energized by looking at the policies, how they affect people’s lives, and to examine the powers as play that have led to them. From there, I can construct the overarching narrative, and share that story with people to get them to care about it as much as I do.

I guess I should’ve known this all along, or maybe I did but forgot for some reason along the way. For some reason, it was during this past week that I’ve come to understand my job and the things I can bring to it. On top of the things I’ve learned, the wonderful/cool/awesome people I’ve met, I feel like this one the best things to come out from this trip. So yeah, that’s pretty cool.

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10/26/14

Citizenfour and the Power of Narratives

I saw Citizenfour this week, the new Laura Poitras documentary about Edward Snowden and the NSA revelations. It’s a momentous, chilling piece of film making that shines a glaring light on the disturbing folly that’s become of the US in the post-9/11 world. The hours of raw footage that Laura filmed throughout the week she and Glenn Greenwald first met Ed are intimate in a way that makes you, as a viewer, feel like you are part of the history that unfolds on the screen.

And that’s what struck me most about Citizenfour. The historical relevance of the Snowden revelations not only lies with the truth that he chose expose about the government, but also in the way he did it. It was the way he partnered with Glenn and Laura to curate the release of state secrets, and to do it in a way that they could maximize the impact of the truth and trustworthiness of his actions.

But as anyone who follows the work of Glenn and Laura knows, they aren’t ordinary journalists. They are part of a new crop that reject the ideal of objectivity in journalism—a farce, I believe, that only works to hide the inevitable subjectivity, the motives of the presenters and the producer of the news story. And they are overt about their motive: to shed light on the truth and to expose the dangers of unchecked state power in an effort to inspire change.

To Glenn and Laura, it may have first been surprising, but also strategic to help Ed show his face to the world. In the film, they make it seem as though their main motivation for doing this was for his safety. Making him known to the public makes it much more difficult for any powerful entity that felt threatened by him to snuff him out. He was a guy who did this for the sake of the greater good, not out of some egotistical need, some narcissistic urge. By presenting him as the heroic individual that he is, they were able to ensure that the public would stand by him and his action. What they don’t say is that his publicity would, and likely already has, inspire others to follow his lead as a government whistleblower.

The thing about fighting power is that the powerful do an excellent job of hiding their motivations from the public. In the cases where the policies themselves are carried out in secret, talking about the secrecy itself is enough to rile the public and undermine their faith in their government. Secrecy is a major way they’re able to get away with these policies, but it’s also their greatest weakness. When their actions, and especially their objectives, are revealed to the public, their legitimacy shrivels up along with the faith and trust people had in them.

For activists, our strongest ally is the truth. But sadly the truth alone isn’t sexy enough. The truth can be dry, non-compelling, or confusing. Governments, corporations, and other entities of concentrated power invest a huge amount of their energy in the optics of their actions. When it’s a matter of public opinion, they’re adept at hiding even their most heinous acts by using lofty justifications or simply relying on the fact that the mainstream media won’t report it. Too often it’s because these stories are just too tedious to unpack for the viewers. As John Oliver said to describe the net neutrality fight, whether on purpose or by function, those in power have figured that “If you want to do something evil, put it inside something boring.”

Which gets me back to Citizenfour and its potential to add a new wave of energy towards significantly reforming mass surveillance. What the global fight for digital privacy, and really any issue in social justice issue needs, is better storytelling. Stories are what inspire people. Stories are what frame big, complicated, boring issues in a way that humanizes them and makes them tangible for people. No matter how much something warrants newsworthiness because of its impact and relevance for people’s lives, it won’t resonate with them, and they won’t care about it unless they can see the narrative and place themselves within it.

We especially need stories at a time when things are seriously broken. Democracy is a joke. Corporations make and break the rules they want. And meanwhile the government is doing more and more to persecute and silence journalists and individuals who are fighting to fix the system. What Laura does with Citizenfour is tell Ed’s story, to show why a modest, every-day person would put their life on the line for the public-interest, and how they can, alone, put a giant wrench in a powerful, corrupt, and seemingly unstoppable system.

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10/12/14

my ongoing obsession with cooperatives

Between my many “extracurricular” (by which I just mean non-EFF work) activities last week, I met up with a group of people who shared my raging curiosity and interest in learning about cooperative businesses. We watched this BBC 1980 documentary on the Mondragon cooperative, which was only about 50 minutes long, but went into the history and structure of this one very large cooperative network in northern Spain in fairly good detail.

I’d already seen Shift Change, a solid movie that looks at various cooperative businesses around the United States (plus Mondragon as well). Despite me being already pretty convinced that cooperatives are a very viable model for enabling more sustainable enterprises that inherently concern itself with the well-being of its workers and communities in which they are based, I still felt like it portrayed too rosy a picture of cooperatives. When I was finished watching it, I had all kinds of lingering thoughts about their decision-making structure and the management process.

The 1980 BBC doc was pretty thorough about this aspect of Mondragon—how various teams elect a representative to the board, how human resources decisions are made, etc. It seems to work, but it seems like there’s a lot of room for experimentation depending on the size, the product, the location, and all kinds of other aspects of the enterprise.

I feel like I’m hearing more and more rumblings about cooperative, co-owned businesses, and that’s really exciting. The more people start to talk about coops, the more it begins to permeate expectations around new businesses, and at the very least, makes for-profit corporations seems less and less like a sustainable, worthy enterprise, and more like the extractive, parasitic institutions like they are.

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09/14/14

burning man: re-thinking privilege in a not-so-make-believe world

I wanted to experience it myself. No matter how many things I’d heard and read, I knew I wasn’t getting the whole picture. Wasn’t willing to listen to that little voice of judgment, and honestly, that cowardice that whispered:

“there’s no way you’ll survive out there.
the sun, the dust, the port-a-potties, and no showers for a week.
it’s gonna be seeped in privileged, extravagant, techie bro-ttitude …
it’ll be too much.
all of it will make you feel gross inside and out…”

for the last few years these murmurings stifled the pangs of curiosity I’ve been having about it.
But I didn’t want to care what other people said. I don’t hate on something until I understand what it is, and I only care or feel like I have the place to critique a thing until I do.

the day I was really convinced was when I was getting lunch with an old close friend of mine, Martina. I’m notoriously bad at keeping in touch with people so I didn’t even know that she’d gone. This person, one of my favorite people, was someone I didn’t really expect to go to a huge neo-hippie festival in the middle of the desert. It caught me off guard. As I listened to her talk about it, I kept prodding her with questions. She described things she experienced that seems so otherworldly, so unexpected, like a wacky sci-fi world. It suddenly sounded so fucking cool. If she was into it this much, the odds were I would be too.

When it started to become time to make the commitment, I started dating a guy who’d been going for the past several years. he sealed it for me. how could I not try at this point, when so many people, my people, were into it? I wanted to know if I could do it and survive. I wanted to know what the big deal was.

so, I decided to go to Burning Man.

It starts months and months before. At the time it seems like an ungodly amount of preparation, but looking back at it it’s really part of the experience. for your first time, the thing you need to focus on (and quite honestly, all you can really handle) is to figure out how to go and how to survive. Everyone warns you about the excruciating heat, the suffocating dust storms, and the unforgivingly cold, dark nights. I read almost every discussion board and took every random piece of advice I got from friends and strangers about what I needed for the trip. I hadn’t gone on a real camping trip in ages so I was pretty insecure about my outdoor survival skills.

Then there was the planning you need to do if you’re in a camp. I ended up joining Martina’s, which consisted of friends or friends-of-friends of the people who camped together the previous year. We were 60 people, from around the world, most of whom were complete strangers to one another. The process of organizing everything for this many people across 8+ time zones was a feat in itself. We had to plan our food, water, grey water disposal system, shade structure, seating area, signage, etc. etc. I wanted to do everything I could to contribute and be helpful…but I’ll be totally honest and say that I also did it too because I was worried things wouldn’t get done.

In the end, my camp came together remarkably well. It was satisfying to be able to rely on a bunch of total strangers. Everyone was expected to contribute and work collaboratively to build what became our home for that week. pretty much everyone pulled through where it mattered. I was proud that we all created a way that we could all live together on a square plot of dry hard dust, and that we managed to not be a total mess.

In some ways, I guess I should’ve expected this. Burning Man isn’t a place for people who just talk about doing things. It doesn’t matter what you say or plan to do, all that matters is that you did it. That goes for anything you bring to the Playa, to what you end up doing when you’re there. It’s an opportunity to flex cooperative abilities and your giving abilities. At the same time you’re challenged in your willingness to be creative and open to new opportunities, you need to be socially and environmentally aware.

It’s all held together by some basic, intuitively sensible rules. Leave no trace and pick up any Matter Out Of Place. Respect each other’s boundaries. Give and receive whatever you can. You respect these rules because they’re not arbitrary. They’re designed out of utility for the security and happiness of the people who choose to be there. In this way they’re freeing, not inhibiting. These basic rules reflect the event’s slow evolution. I was told that they were the result of lessons learned from tragic accidents and the inevitable necessity for more structure as the city grew and grew each year.

And as it grew, it seems that it became more and more like the world people came there to escape.

That ability to escape is really only something privileged people can do. You need to have the money to spend, and the ability to get time off to disconnect from your job and your other responsibilities. But even then, why Burning Man? Why not spend the time and the resources to go on a relaxing vacation? Why not go into the mountains, surround yourself with thick rustling trees or sprawl out next to some cool peaceful beach?

it’s because the challenge of it’s thrilling. It’s novel to be part of something so big and cooperative. There are few places in this world that invite you to participate and engage in the creation of a shared experience. It forces you to push your comfort zones in ways you never would’ve conceived.

but, as nothing really is, it’s not removed from the real world. Or what Burners call the “default world,” and the very real inequalities in power, influence, and money.

You see it all around. there’s the turnkey camps, where people pay others to set up a camp for them, sometimes coming as a package with expensive chefs, butlers, and the like. Apparently, some of them compose their camps so no one can walk through their whole set up. I saw small clans of segways zoom past me. Sometimes I noticed art cars or camps with older white men sitting at a throne or up high, higher than anyone else, flanked by what I can only imagine to be paid models and dancers in coordinated burner-esque outfits.

It’s gross, for sure, but I was also fascinated by how wealth was manifested there. I guess the point of being in one of those enclosed, turnkey camps is that you get to be all cushy and comfortable while experiencing the dense sensory barrage that unfolds in the desert.

but to me what that shows is two different things:
either, these people are just cowards who don’t think they could handle the harsh environment of the Playa like most do, or they’re just unable to be self-sufficient or work with others well enough to do it themselves. A huge part of being out there is what you do for survival, whether you do it by yourself or with a group. if you’re completely unprepared there are some ways for you to rely on others to get by. But the whole deal is that you think about the basic needs you have, and make sure you take them with you. in theory, the rest of it is about giving and sharing.

What those turnkey camps signify is how its inhabitants don’t know how to be self-reliant. If they do, it’s silly that they’re coming to an event in which that is one of its core principles, and instead, choose to be observers, non-participants. What’s gross about it isn’t that it seems unfair that they “get” to have those set ups, it’s that they’re exploiting the cooperative nature of the Burning Man experience and using it as a backdrop for the cushy vacation they could really have anywhere else.

Decommodification
In order to preserve the spirit of gifting, our community seeks to create social environments that are unmediated by commercial sponsorships, transactions, or advertising. We stand ready to protect our culture from such exploitation. We resist the substitution of consumption for participatory experience.

In the default world you can never ignore the existence and power that money quantifies and signifies.
one goal out there is to try to suspend its grip on our lives, for just a few days. thousands go to play this game of make believe.

people go to be extravagant in their own way. you can’t ignore the privilege, the wealth, because you can’t go unless the time, the resources, the ability, AND the desire for relentless, expressive, experimental energy that’s all been taken to its absurd extreme. everyone who goes is privileged in this way. the layers of pre-existing, institutionalized power inequities always give certain people access to more things, and out there, to more of those extremes. but to me, it seems like the people who choose to drag their privilege out there with them lose out from actually understanding the point of burning man. i’d imagine it’s hard to experience the raw, unpredictable intimacy of a place where respect and trust comes from being able to be happy to give as much as you are happy to receive. you can’t be as grateful for those surprise gifts if you isolate yourself and bring too much comfort out there with you.

So. I’m glad I got to go and see what it’s like when people are free to question all previous spoken and unspoken rules….how you’re supposed to dress, speak, act, relax, connect, feel, and express to others, it’s all thrown out the window and we’re all dared to rebuild it from scratch. I truly believe it could do more to challenge our default norms, especially our socio-political ones. Since no one in particular is in charge of that, I’m thinking of doing it myself somehow.

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09/7/14

burning man: a pilgrimage to transience

I’m back.
I survived.

months and months of anticipation, frustration, and “goddammit this better be fucking worth it”

first morning,
waking up to the melody of Cake.
I crawl out of my yurt into the blinding heat

out there, on the Playa, the Sun is the Star. The main character of that stage, where both its presence and absence is the most blatant fact.

at night,
the neon lights
pulsating geometric jewels cut across the blackest black horizon

clusters of pulsating bodies released bodies releasing the raw sexual carnal energies that we’re trained to ball up collect suppress hold in default life

the young eager successful warm friendly helpful uptight,
letting go…

seeing the restraints of gender norms and expectations of “norms” dissolve in this environment
a land of shakers makers risk takers
in a suspended reality, everything can be called into question.

flavors, temperatures, feelings
anything but the heat and dryness feeling like a complete sensory miracle.

at night,
crescent moon floating by
scrap octopus spewing flames from its eight

then,
the sweet grapefruit hazy sunrise
a naive response

it’s a constant shiver down your spine.
it’s a vacuum of spirituality but full of new cohesive meaning

it’s just as much about the building, as it is about the destruction.

leaving, your blood is thickened into mud.
by the sun, the inhaled dust.

here, we get to define our fun, our pleasure, and create it if we don’t see it.
the only rules that exist exist because existence of this world relies on it.

/ streamofconsciousness

I have a way longer, more essay-like piece comin’…

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08/18/14

state of mind, aug 2014 (stream of consciousness)

A stream of consciousness:

The word I’d use to describe how I’ve been feeling is “overflowing”
in the sense that I’m being affected by so much right now often I can hardly contain the enormity of it all.

First off, shit is hitting the fan. I know that’s been this way, for god knows how long, and whether it’s worst now than before is arguable…but it’s now manifested in such a violent, visible way that it’s become fucking hard to ignore it. Gaza. Ferguson. Obama’s shit show of a “Liberal” presidency and his crackdown on truth and justice. The whole god damn institutional economic societal mess. It’s just too much sometimes. I’ve been following the Ferguson situation, and before that, what was happening in Gaza. It’s all terrifying, it’s incomprehensibly horrible and I hate that I feel like it’s too much to fix.

Maybe the worst part about it is that now we KNOW that things are broken. At least more and more people do. And we’re better at talking about it, sharing stories taking photos and videos of it. But what are we supposed to do? Where do we go from here? It’s almost like the ~powers that be~ aren’t even ashamed or sheepish about the fact that the current whack composition of power in our world, in this country, in our states, and down to our cities are leading to people getting murdered, left to die, and even being oppressed for talking about it.

We’re being targeted for telling the truth. For exposing the lies, money-laundering, murders, torturing, that is done in our name, paid for by us, justified for the ineffectual self-serving purpose of “national security” — which is of course completely undermined by these acts of violence and corruption. These things are what breed insecurity.

Security comes from making people feel healthy and stable in their lives. Trust. Sustainability. Awareness. The right to know what is happening when they trust others with the power to make decisions over their society. The right to have laws that reflect common interests. The right to have access to knowledge and resources that create both autonomy and stable co-dependence…

Soo….

“You never change things by fighting the existing reality.
To change something, build a new model that makes the existing model obsolete.”
― R. Buckminster Fuller

and

“The movement of change is much the builder as the destroyer.”
– Alan Watts

These quotes to me represent what I imagine a revolution to be. Not a violent overthrow, but a slow, coordinated construction that enables and builds security in its very edifice. I have some vague ideas about what this would mean in practice but I’m still gathering information and experience to figure out what and how this could be done in practice. A significant part is the cooperative model. As I’ve said before, I feel that a well-run cooperative is a building block for a better democracy. Cooperatives enables both autonomy and co-dependence from its members/owners/workers (which can all be one in the same).

I need to learn more and experiment more to identify better possible solutions.
It’s too heavy for me to pay too close of attention to what happens sometimes, in the areas outside the bullshit that I’m fighting in my realm. I force myself to it every morning, every day following activists on the ground on twitter and listening to alternative news. I want to feel like I’m doing something. Talking about how awful it is and reporting about it can’t be my role because I’m not fit for it. It’s too exhausting for me.

The people who do do it deserve all the respect in the world. Brave investigative journalists have one of the hardest jobs imaginable: looking for and staring hard at the ugliest side of humanity. People need to know about the ugly because we’ve become so good at hiding it and ignoring it. Their job is to make us see it and know it.

The question is, for those of us who are willing to acknowledge the brokenness, what we are going to do about it. Being angry, ashamed, and depressed about it won’t get us anywhere.

What the fuck are we gonna do about it.

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