'Twelve guys with a shotgun' will not lead the revolution: A radical critique

By Tim Mayer

     "[Malatesta] went on to say that we must meet people where they're at, win concrete improvements in people's lives through collective action, and together, expand both our desire and capacity for liberation."
     – Chris Crass

     The other night I was a having a conversation with a close friend of mine, and I told him I planned to write an article building on Kelly Foxworthy's blazingly insightful contribution to last fall's issue of SEEDs of CHANGE titled "Portrait of an Activist as a Young Woman." My topic would address the range of lifestyles that converge in the group I work with, Students Eliminating Environmental Destruction (SEED), and that, despite seemingly obvious and glaring differences, people are still able to work with one another to achieve a common goal. My friend, perhaps in jest, nicknamed the person at the more radical end of this lifestyle spectrum "the Dumpster diver" while the more mainstream person he labeled "the mall shopper." It is with those terms in mind that I move forward with this article.
     First, it is important to establish a definition of student activism: it's the vehicle through which middle- and even upper-class youth become exposed not only to injustices in society, but also learn that a process exists by which individuals and groups can become empowered to right wrongs, restore justice and make changes in what were once thought to be impenetrable and stubborn institutions such as universities, businesses and governments. With that definition, I would say that student activism within the United States is a period of transition for those students involved -- a transition from a once-comfortable frame of mind regarding the state of the world and one's role in it to a frame of mind in which the individual as a student activist begins to question the existing social, economic and political systems as well as one's role in those systems. Initial awareness of injustice, especially that caused by one's government and even by one's way of life, is a an awakening that produces strong reactions in people; this new awareness can, especially, produce intense feelings of disempowerment and hopelessness if a person feels there is no way to channel his or her feelings into meaningful and contributive action to effect change.

"These same people - who appear
to be well-kept and dressed in fine
clothes, drive expensive cars and
even (gasp!) SUVs, voted for Kerry
and watch prime-time sitcoms - have
a desire to learn about and oppose
the injustices that exist in the
world just as I do..."

     Last weekend, I attended a social justice teach-in hosted by the Inter-religious Task Force on Central America, in Cleveland. The mini-conference featured U.S. Rep. Sherrod Brown, as well as three rounds of workshops ranging from environmental destruction in Central America and proposed Wal-Mart development in Cleveland to stopping the passage of CAFTA. The conference was attended by a surprisingly high number of local Catholic and Christian high school students, and by middle-aged adults, many of whom were affiliated with local churches. It was a stark contrast from the workshops I generally go to, where many people who attend are hippie-anarcho-gutterpunk traveling kids along with hordes of self-identified student activists (like myself), moving from conference to conference and protest to protest.
     It is important, at the very least, to be reminded that not all people interested in combating social injustice are just like me —- meaning that they have arrived at the same or similar political analysis as me, developed a critique of capitalism, or reflect on the privileges bestowed upon us by an oppressive social structure. These same people -- who appear to be well kept and dressed in fine clothes, drive expensive cars and even (gasp!) SUVs, voted for Kerry and watch prime-time sitcoms -- have a desire to learn about and oppose the injustices that exist in the world just as I do, despite our apparent lifestyle differences as well as values. Looking back over the past three years as an activist, I see all I have gone through to become the person I am; oftentimes, it shames me to think that I can expect others to be at where I am now. I am lucky in those few moments to be humbled by their presence when I realize that these people too, are interested in the str uggle for social justice in their way. Moreover, I must accommodate them in the movement and they should do the same.
     When someone enters the fight for social justice, a transition takes place. It is a process that can be personally frightening — it is frightening for me in that all I had assumed to be true comes into question. The moments when I find my identity the most discomforted or challenged is when I realize that I am on the right track, even though it may feel differently. For the transition to be successful, it is crucial that the "veteran" activists are flexible in accommodating the new person; veterans must understand that the awareness the new activist is coming into is not all too different from what the veteran went through at some point. This is perhaps the point where the "mall shopper" and the "Dumpster diver," our figurative characters from the introduction, come into conflict (and conflict, to be sure, can be good). Kelly touched on this conflict when she explained her feelings of exclusion from the Wooster Conference for wearing makeup and dressing pretty.
     I am probably more in the "Dumpster diver" class than I'd like to admit. I wonder how much of my protest is an effort to construct an identity for myself around activism — so that when I approach the world, I feel secure in the presentation of myself to others. My identity, if it meets social expectations, gets me things I want: friends, status, respect, acknowledgement. Because I, like many, loathe feeling insecure, I don't want anyone to challenge my security; when my identity is being threatened, I seek to defend. Therefore, if I am constructing an identity around activism, it would seem activism is secondary to the fulfillment of the social needs of my self.
     Someone like Kelly could then be a threat to my identity, no? She is working for the same goals, but has a radically different lifestyle. How can this be? Doesn't she know that the personal is political, as feminists have so vehemently argued?
     I am learning that forcing a lifestyle identity, political analysis, or sectarian ideology onto a budding activist can be damaging to their commitment to social change. To do this would replicate the banking model of education that Brazilian liberation scholar Paulo Freire argues against as being tool of the oppressors. Freire, in "Pedagogy of the Oppressed," argues that a more beneficial relationship for the veteran and new person would be one in which the veteran regards himself/herself not simply a teacher, but also a student. Similarly, the new person is a teacher to the veteran who will find something new through the relationship.
     Chris Crass argues for a similar method of developing leaders in his article, "But We Don't Have Leaders." The veteran should open the way for the new person to have challenging experiences and a space to reflect about said experiences; this must be a safe space the new activist will feel comfortable sharing feelings without the threat of being judged according to the veteran's rigid political dogma or lifestyle ideals. Only then can the new activist develop a truly unique political and social consciousness.
     In this relationship with the new activist, veterans go through a transition in which we learn more about ourselves. When hiking, I have a personal rule: Move at the speed of the slowest person in your group. We come from a culture that values efficiency — efficiency in genocide and deforestation as well as in factories and at home. Efficiency generally comes at the expense of the very real and unique experience of individual. Efficiency in working towards a campaign goal may have to be set aside; I may have to move slower if I am interested in developing someone in the group as a leader.
     It is difficult to divide "veterans" and "new people" into clear and distinct categories, much as it is "teachers" and "students." No one is entirely one or the other, and if, again, we are paying attention, we will find ourselves in one role or the other in different relationships and at different times. Further, I now wonder if it isn't possible to be both, simultaneously. For that to be possible, it seems that a new awareness of our selves must be summoned, as well as extraordinary dedication to listening. It is an awareness that tells us that just because we may perceive ourselves to be unfamiliar, or new to a particular situation, we do in fact have something to offer the people with whom we interact. As new people in an activist group, we must overcome the "Censor" that Starhawk speaks of — that small but powerful voice in our minds that plays up our fears and inhibits us from participating fully. The veteran must also overcome the tendency to preach to new people about "the way it is." If in my role as a veteran, I can open up avenues for new people to have experience and then a space where they can reflect on those experiences in safe atmosphere, I trust they will come to their own conclusions, which, I may find, may mirror my own. I may also find, that in this position as a veteran, I have grown and moved further along the path.

     The phrase in the title of this piece comes from a Maoist I met in Washington, D.C., at a protest after-party several years ago. He expressed to me his frustration with a particular revolutionary political group that will remain nameless, because he felt that it organized as if "12 guys with a shotgun" could start the revolution.