Montréal Contre-information
Montréal Contre-information
Montréal Contre-information

Resistance to LNG on Gitwilgyoots Territory from an anarchist perspective

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Feb 122016
 

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Resistance to LNG on Gitwilgyoots Territory

In late August, a crew of women of Tsimshian, Haida, Nisga, and Gitxsan bloodlines initiated the defense of Lax U’u’la (Lelu Island) and the Flora Bank1 from LNG industry destruction. The Gitwilgyoots Tribe Sm’ogyet Yahaan (hereditary chief) and Ligitgyet Gwis Hawaal (hereditary house leader), and their families began a defense camp on Lax U’u’la, which is Gitwilgyoots traditional hunting and fishing territory. They were also joined by various significant hereditary people from other Tsimshian tribes, and a motley crew of native and non-native outside supporters.

This camp has been set up to prevent any further destruction of their land, as Petronas and Pacific North West LNG (PNW LNG) are planning on building a $11 billion liquefied natural gas (LNG) plant on Lax U’u’la, which is at the mouth of the Skeena river near Prince Rupert, BC. They have been conducting environmental and archaeological assessments since 2012, which have resulted in over a hundred test hole sites and cut blocks, and have in the process cit down several culturally modified trees. This plant would be fed by 3 pipelines, including the recently provincially-approved Prince Rupert Gas Transmission (PRGT), owned by Trans Canada, which crosses through multiple indigenous territories, and which is currently being met with resistance from the Gitxsan people at the Madii Lii encampment. This proposed LNG plant has been opposed not only by the Sm’ogyet Yahaan, but has also been unanimously refused by the 9 allied Tsimshian tribes of Lax Kw’alaams, who turned down a $1.25 billion offer by Petronas at 3 separate meetings in Lax Kw’alaams, Vancouver, and Prince Rupert. Regardless, in preparation for the LNG plant construction, Petronas/PNW LNG have been trying to continue to conduct environmental and engineering assessments around Lax U’u’la, which include test drilling that are actively destroying habitat essential to all the salmon that run throughout the Skeena Watershed.

One of the major rivers that flow into the Skeena is the Wedzin Kwah (so-called Morice/Bulkley), which is the river currently being protected by the Unist’ot’en Clan, grassroots Wet’suwet’en and their supporters. The ‘Unist’ot’en Camp’ was also started to resist mega petro-infrastructure (including another major pipeline project of the Trans Canada corporation). The Unist’ot’en, Madii Lii, and Lax U’u’la are the first three bold frontlines against LNG development in the Skeena Watershed. At the time of this writing, others are organizing towards opening new action fronts in this bioregion.

The importance of the salmon is not abstract or theoretical. In addition to the negative mental health effects of disconnection and destruction of the land, most communities that live within the Skeena watershed rely on the salmon, oolichan, and other seafood to feed their families. Even if you are broke, and can’t afford food at the grocery store, you can still rely on the river’s steady supply of wild salmon to feed your kids and get through the winter. The same can be said of wildlife such as moose, deer, beaver, berries, etc…which would all also be heavily affected if these projects are realized. Many people also maintain a relatively autonomous income within the current capitalist reality by harvesting sustainably from this bounty.

Those who depend on our labour and obedience have always seen people’s ability to sustain themselves independently as a threat. Forced state dependence was and is a goal of colonization. Dependence must be created to limit community mobility to bordered areas (such as villages, cities, or reserves). These areas are easily controlled, and any resistance or insurgence can be monitored and mitigated. Those who know how to live with the seasons and off the land are a threat, as they do not need what the state provides to thrive.

The Canadian state and international corporations are investing in resource extraction projects all across so called Canada. The impact of these extraction projects on life-sustaining resources such as clean water, wild game, and medicinal plants in not an unintentional side-effect of capitalism. It’s killing two birds with one stone. The pipelines, mines, fracked gaslands, and railroad expansions are not individual projects—they are all part of the same effort to maintain a society and lifestyle that is dependent on dwindling natural resources, while at the same time destroying the potential for any life outside of the state’s control.

This struggle is also inextricably connected to indigenous cultural revival, decolonization of the land, our minds and social relationships, anti-patriarchy and genuine reconciliation between natives and non-natives. Of course, this also means the destruction of the state and capitalist economy.

To date, the resistance to Petronas/PNW LNG’s project has mainly been on the water. Their project is still in it’s initial stages, in that there are still some engineering assessments that need to be performed prior to beginning construction on the actual plant. In practice, this has primarily taken the form of trying to prevent the workers from performing any work, and disrupting environmental and engineering assessments. This means escorting environmental surveyors off of the Flora and Agnew Banks, preventing the drill boat from entering and anchoring on the banks, slowing down or turning back charter boats bringing workers to the barges. So far, these efforts have been limited and unfortunately has only temporarily shut down drilling operations. However, with the growing force of warriors and expanding solidarity it is still possible to break Petronas and Christy Clark’s dream.

There is also resistance by re-asserting that Lax U’u’la is used as a place of healing and ceremony. Infrastructure is continually being constructed and there are other preparations for defense of the island itself (which also serve to maintain and expand water operations). Several structures have been built, and once there is less consistent confrontation, there is the intention to use these spaces as a place to teach youth about ancestral ways of living off of the land, and to heal from the continued traumas of colonization.

For thousands of years, communities have sustained themselves by the plentiful offerings from the Skeena River and surrounding landmasses. These resource extraction projects threaten to destroy people’s ability to live off of the land, as opposed to the state. European colonization brought the near extinction of the prairie buffalo, and if we don’t fight, the wild pacific salmon will surely follow.

If we wish to see victory in this struggle against petro-corporations and the Canadian state we must continue to provide solid material support. We also need to proliferate social agitation and disruption of daily life in the population centers throughout this region and beyond.

There are many ways to show solidarity with this ever-expanding and fierce resistance. Funds are always needed for boat fuel/maintenance, and the camp is specifically trying to raise enough money to buy crab traps, new boats, and fishing line so that they continue to harvest food in and around Lax U’u’la, to provide for their elders and communities. You can also always come and visit the region on your own, with a buddy or with a crew to contribute on the ground of this growing defense camp. Struggle is always strengthened by a de-centralized and broad attack, solidarity can also include resistance to industrial developments in your own backyard (Site C Dam, the Trans Mountain and Line 9 being just a few examples). These projects are also facilitated by the bureaucrats who work for the governments and companies and who’s offices are located in urban centres. In the past, solidarity has been shown through noise demonstrations and other actions against these offices and company infrastructures.

You can donate to the Lax U’u’la defense through their GoFundMe page at: http://www.gofundme.com/lelu_island

Useful websites:

www.laxuula.com

Stop Pacific NorthWest LNG/Petronas on Lelu Island—on Facebook

www.madiilii.com

www.facebook.com/unistoten

www.skeenadefense.com

1. A lot of the focus of this struggle has been the eelgrass and the Flora Bank, and how this habitat is essential to development of juvenile salmon that run all throughout the Skeena. While we don’t want to diminish the importance of this habitat, we also recognize that these crucial areas do not exist in isolation. The Flora Bank can not be separated from Agnew Bank, the surrounding landmasses, and the currents, sediments, and creatures that surround and impact it in more ways than we can possibly imagine. We caution against the strong focus on the Flora Bank—if the LNG processing plant is moved to Ridley Island (a neighboring island not surrounded by the Flora Bank), it will still facilitate a capitalist society and reinforce a colonial state.

Stantec Montreal Offices:

300-1080 Beaver Hall Hill

Montreal, Quebec H2Z 1S8

600-1060 Robert-Bourassa Boulevard

Montreal, Quebec

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Don’t need a strike to revolt against the State: report-back from the December 18th night demo

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Dec 222015
 

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On the night of Friday, December 18, around 150 people gathered in downtown Montreal for a night demonstration. It was the third in a sequence that began on November 30 and continued December 9, the latter constituting potentially the most successful combative demonstration in Montreal since the student strike of 2012. December 18 was hyped as a chance to take the combativeness and courage that allowed us to create so much time and space for ourselves on the 9th even further.

The callout read : The night belongs to us. The youth say fuck the government, the rich, and the fascists, without forgetting the cops. The struggle is only just beginning, there’s no need for a strike to revolt against the State. This demo will also be in solidarity with the comrades imprisoned in Greece and for a Black December. Against the violence of the State, we will be the reply. Love and Rage.

The excitement discreetly coursing through the city and the fine-tuning of plans throughout the week set high expectations for many of us. The crowd that gathered in Berri Square, though not as numerous as some had hoped, did not seem unprepared to meet them.

This night, however, largely belonged to the police. Despite being attacked with rocks and flares in a final standoff on Ste Catherine, they were allowed to control the route of the demo at every key intersection and eventually funnel it into an area where the geography made it easier for police to disperse the crowd using tear gas and riot-cop charges. As the crowd was chased eastward on Ste-Catherine, the windows of Laurentian Bank, gentrifying businesses in the Gay Village, and at least one police vehicle were smashed, but the desperate quality of this destruction was a far cry from the joyful rampage down René-Lévesque a week earlier.

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Unfortunately, the most memorable aspect of this night might be the presence of undercover cops of the Service de police de la Ville de Montréal (SPVM), some sporting their interpretation of black bloc attire. Undercover cops responded viciously when outed by participants in the demo; in various instances,they beat, arrested, pepper sprayed, and even pulled a gun on individuals or groups who attempted to expose or confront them. It’s been a while since the cops have made such a brazen attempt to infiltrate a demo in Montreal, and we see it as a direct response to the popularity and effectiveness of black bloc tactics on December 9. By sending such easy-to-spot undercovers into combative demos to attack protesters, the SPVM makes its goal (beyond injuring and terrorizing its enemies) clear enough: to generate distrust of others who mask up in order to defend themselves against repression.

The police hope that people will equate those who conceal their identities with agents provocateurs, creating a climate that discourages people from adopting black bloc tactics and therefore facilitates the police’s control over the situation. Within hours of the dispersal of the demo, images and accounts of the infiltrators began to go viral on social media; some peaceful-protester-types were already playing the cops’ game by publicly arguing that attacks on police which were carried out by anarchists on December 18 were in fact the work of the undercovers, who (according to this their logic) would have endangered fellow cops in order to blend in or justify police counter-attacks.

The threat of undercovers in demos isn’t new, and we think the best ways of countering it remain the same. We benefit from large and well-executed black blocs, in which people are as indistinguishable from one another as possible so that undercovers are less able to keep track of everything that’s going on or gather valuable evidence against any one participant. The bloc and the entire crowd should stay relatively tight, to make it harder for undercovers to carry out targeted arrests by attacking someone and dragging them away from the crowd. When demonstrators are able to identify undercovers with certainty, they should be forcefully ejected such that their employers are deterred from repeating the mistake of sending them in. Let’s remember the March 15th demo in 2010 where the black bloc chased similarly-dressed undercovers out with rocks, sticks and fireworks. Following this, the police abstained from using infiltrators for a while.

While people were rightly shaken by this incident, we also want to reflect on the demo as a whole. We remain encouraged by how we’ve materialized a spirit of revolt over the last three weeks, but we think Friday could have been so much more, and, without announcing tactical adaptations in a public report-back, we want to offer a few thoughts on why we were so vulnerable to police interventions.

While participants were masking up in the first blocks of the route, live-streaming cameras were yet again filming from every direction. An analysis from a report back on the 9th bears repeating; “Ideally, we’d have a culture of explaining to people how this is harmful, and then proceeding to take action against them or their recording devices if necessary. We should note, however, that several independent media initiatives who regularly film at demos appear to have solid practices of not recording or publishing incriminating video.” We would add that regardless of editing practices, filming should be not considered acceptable in the first fifteen minutes of a demonstration (while everyone is masking up), as it feeds police valuable evidence.

Our position weakened each time we let the police dictate our route by blocking off two out of four directions in an intersection, but there was no major effort by any part of the demo to either bring the crowd to a stop and confront the police lines in hope of punching through, or reverse course (like on December 9 when a quick, well-executed reversal allowed us to evade police control). In the past, we’ve been guilty of expecting such decision-making to come from presumed organizers at the front of the demo, but there is also a strong night-demo culture of autonomous groups proposing plans that get put into action if enough people are into them. In the absence of this autonomous intelligence and with the front of the demo proceeding at full speed past police lines, each block we passed felt like we were sinking deeper into a police trap. Historically, through a variety of methods, we ended mass kettling as well as the flanking sidewalk cops; our most urgent tactical need right now is probably to make it impossible for the police to decide the route of the demo by cordoning off streets at their leisure.

The cohesiveness of the bloc and its resulting capacity for coordination also left something to be desired. Dozens of people were in full bloc, with perhaps fifty more at least wearing masks, but we were often scattered throughout the crowd. On the 18th, the lack of cohesion made informal, real-time coordination between affinity groups more difficult, and the bloc’s actions largely failed to build on one another and create a whole greater than the sum of its parts. For instance, on several occasions cop lines were met with a volley of only two to three rocks – not enough to break the resolve of a cop in full riot gear. A barrage of thirty rocks, on the other hand, could realistically cause them to retreat or take cover, potentially opening up space for the demo to break away into more favorable terrain. The bloc being able to recognize itself as a cohesive unit and act as one could enable this type of coordination.

We continue to need better ways of dealing with tear gas, which for the third night demo in a row succeeded in dispersing the crowd.

We are thrilled that we can have combative anarchist demonstrations that don’t need to piggyback on student mobilizations and which can exist outside the scheduled times for street fighting, such as March 15th and May Day. When combative demos only occur in the course of reformist mass struggles they are framed as useful only insofar as riots strengthen our rapport of force with the State, increasing the likelihood of the State meeting the movement’s demands (against austerity, police violence, etc). Combative demonstrations without demands put an anarchist analysis of power into practice: by refusing to frame our struggles in terms of demands, we refuse the crumbs which the State offers us, we refuse their attempts to reassert control and legitimacy, and we learn to create our own power, which is much harder for them to take away. To develop our power, to develop an autonomous anarchist struggle in this city and to undertake conflict with authority outside of predesignated timelines, narratives and terrains – these are worthy goals in and of themselves.

The frequent manif-actions during the strike habituated us to demo-actions of a few hundred people making blockades and occupations possible. Combative demonstrations open up a new possibility of direct action with the capacity to directly strike urban targets otherwise difficult to attack (transportation infrastructure, police stations, etc…) or to defend liberated territories (ZAD, squats, etc…). Developing a habit of calling for demonstrations like those in the last weeks allows anarchists to have autonomy from reformist social movements. It is necessary to call these demos to punctuate daily life with this destructive rage, whether it be to give force to anarchist events, or in direct response to attacks on our struggles.

Further resources countering the agent provocateur narrative:
In defense of the Black Bloc: disproving the accusations against those who wear masks

Photographs of suspected undercovers :

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The Black Bloc Takes Back the Streets of Montreal

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Dec 122015
 

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On the night of Wednesday December 9, a demonstration against austerity took the streets of Montreal, under the banner “Our Struggle Is Not Negotiable“. Québec’s public sector had held a general strike earlier the same day, and some union leaders have been supporting mobilizations on a scale not seen for decades in an effort to increase their bargaining power.

The callout read: We won’t let ourselves be pacified by a sell-out agreement or by a special law. To the front: our struggle is non-negotiable, we won’t back down. The night of December 9th, let’s retake the street. Let’s warm the city with our footsteps and our shouts!

A week earlier, during the night demo of November 30th, a smaller-but-determined bloc had smashed a cop car immediately upon taking the street, entering into a fifteen-minute battle with riot police who were hitting people with batons and plastic bullets at the intersection of Sainte-Catherine street and Bleury street. The successes of the 30th helped provide momentum for the 9th, and the tension and excitement were palpable as participants began to gather at Berri Square.

Barricades on Nov. 30

Barricades on Nov. 30

A few dozen black flags were distributed throughout the burgeoning crowd. Upon taking the street and heading west on Maisonneuve avenue, those who were not masked from the get-go began to cover themselves up. Within minutes, most participants in the 200-person demonstration had concealed their identities, forming potentially the largest black bloc in Montreal since 2012. Our enemies in the mass media didn’t even try to frame the destruction that unfolded as the work of outside agitators as they often do; the bloc was undeniably constitutive of the entire demo.

Early on, half a dozen people swarmed an obnoxious Québécois nationalist who shows up to nearly every demo and snatched away his Québec flag and sign, punching him in the throat when he tried to hold on to his props.

Ten minutes into the demonstration, riot police formed a line to our front and right, at the intersection of Maisonneuve avenue and Saint-Dominique street, trying to funnel us south where they were preparing the same maneuver at Sainte-Dominique street and Sainte-Catherine street. Their strategy was clear: to contain us in the Quartier Latin and away from the prime targets in and around the business district, including the police headquarters. The crowd had the collective intelligence to not let the police determine our route, and reversed upon itself, heading east on Maisonneuve avenue. Masked groups were seen sharing rocks, and the crowd darted south through a parking lot and housing project courtyard to get onto Sainte-Catherine street, where the police had not had time to form new lines to restrict our movement.

What followed was a half hour of riotous cat-and-mouse in which the crowd stayed one step ahead of police control. A group of six bike police on Sainte-Catherine street who were naively approaching to flank the demonstration were attacked with a hail of rocks. Surges of excitement were felt in the crowd as the cops were struck with fear along with projectiles, and rapidly fled east out of view. It was on.

The demonstration made a sprint toward René-Lévesque Boulevard, while those further back chanted calls to stay close together. The demonstration took up all six lanes on René-Lévesque, and looking around, our capacity for destruction appeared significant. The semi-armored units with plastic-bullet guns that typically march along each side of the demo were nowhere to be seen, having been blind-sided with volleys of rocks to the back of the head during the demo the week before. For a breathless twenty-minute stretch, the demo acted as a grand criminal conspiracy. Hammers, flag poles, rocks, and the removable metal garbage canisters on every street corner were used to smash the windows of Citizenship & Immigration Canada, construction conglomerate and defense contractor SNC-Lavelin, several banks, and other buildings. For a festive touch, people also wrecked the Christmas decorations assembled at office building entrances, and overturned SNC-Lavelin’s Christmas tree. A few participants ran ahead and broke the back window of a police van with rocks, while others shot off some very large fireworks at the remaining vans positioned in front of the demo. Cheers erupted with the sound of every shattered window. Unknown accomplices could be seen searching for and sharing projectiles; when the demo passed a construction site, comrades ran ahead to find any materials that could be pillaged, and were successful in breaking up decorative stones along René-Lévesque into throwable chunks.

Police began shooting tear gas while trailing the demo to the east on René-Lévesque, using guns that can fire each canister more than a block. At first, it wasn’t successful in dispersing the demo because the crowd just moved west faster while staying relatively tight. The demonstration began to head north on University, smashing yet another Bank of Montreal window as it passed by. The demo split when faced with a cop car blocking a smaller street, but quickly managed to regroup with itself and responded by howling joyfully. At this point, the police continued to fire tear gas and the crowd had thinned to around 50 people. People began to disperse to the surrounding streets, while groups of police and vans continued to harass small groups of demonstrators walking along the sidewalks back to Berri Square. The Media reported one arrest of a minor for obstructing police work, but no charges related to the mayhem.

Moving forward

Against one of the largest and most experienced riot policing squads in North America, those who took the streets on Wednesday decidedly swung the balance of forces in our favor, at least briefly.

We felt moved to write a reportback because we see a lot of potential in the determination and preparedness of the crowd, and have some further thoughts for how we might expand the scope of these moments, both quantitatively and qualitatively. For now, we offer a few notes on tactics which could expand the time and space of combative demonstrations. Ultimately, though, we want to escape the pattern of being successfully fought out of the streets after smashing a few windows and break with this routine of containment.

This could look like:

  • Bringing rocks, fireworks, and tools along (if it feels safe) so that we have fighting capacity right from the get-go and aren’t completely dependent on scavenging for projectiles on the street.
  • Barricades are our friends, and we don’t give them enough love. Participants can fight behind them at standoffs to prevent charging dispersals, and they also function to disrupt the city in our wake and make police maneuvers more difficult to coordinate. Establishing them behind the demo (ideally in a way that doesn’t obstruct the movement of the demo itself) can also effectively block trailing police cars.
  • Participants can scavenge materials for projectiles to share with the crowd in the time between confrontations, so that when the police inevitably come in harder, people are ready to respond effectively.
  • The police cars trailing the demonstration and in front of it should consistently receive projectiles so they can’t be within throwing distance.
  • Bike cops or riot police should be forcefully prevented from flanking the sides of the demonstration. If necessary, participants can hold the sidewalks as well as the streets.
  • On the 9th, many people were recording the events on their cell phones undisturbed. Ideally, we’d have a culture of explaining to people how this is harmful, and then proceeding to take action against them or their recording devices if necessary. We should note, however, that several independent media initiatives who regularly film at demos appear to have solid practices of not recording or publishing incriminating video. In a video posted to YouTube of Wednesday’s demo, for instance, the camera pans up to avoid filming people destroying property, as the sound of glass shattering can be heard.
  • Tear gas eventually functioned to disperse the demos on both the 30th and the 9th, despite some efforts to throw back the canisters and prepare vinegar-soaked cloths. The main problem appeared to be panic spreading in the crowd, not necessarily the physical effects of tear gas. It is possible that more careful efforts to encourage people to stick together and proceed in an intelligent direction can continue diminishing the impacts of police weapons.
  • Questions of discourse and propaganda: why, as anarchists, do we smash the city? How are these actions connected to austerity? How do our struggles exceed any reformist, demands-oriented focus? Though moments of conflictual action bring together many individuals with divergent perspectives and intentions, it would be interesting for participants to communicate their analyses in these moments of destruction. Smaller crews could come prepared and wheatpaste the streets with posters, put up graffiti, or throw flyers from within the demo or from higher-vantage points.

These ideas mean little on paper, but we look forward to the possibility of elaborating them together in the streets. Our hearts are warmed by the sparks that constitute our history of collective revolts, and the potential for these sparks to catch, because we desire nothing less than a city in ruins.

sncsmash

SNC-Lavalin recieved special attention.

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The Economy of Power

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Nov 112015
 

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This was originally written as a reflection after visiting friends while they were imprisoned in Mexico City. They have now been released, but the discussions we had concerning dignity and responses to repression are still relevant. I hope that this can contribute to ongoing discussions within Montreal and elsewhere about how and when anarchists interact with repression, and maintenance of dignity.

The Economy of Power

“Face à un monde aussi exécrable, que ce soit ici ou dehors, la seule chose que t’as, c’est ta dignité. Quand tu l’as vends, peu importe si t’as bien encaissé, tu l’a vendue, ta dignité. A l’interieur de toi, t’es déjà mort.”

“When faced with such an abhorrent world, either here or outside, the only thing that you have is your dignity. When you’ve sold it, regardless of whether you got a good price for it, you’ve sold it—your dignity. Inside yourself, you’re already dead.”

– de Nordin Benallal
publier dans le journal anarchiste bruxellois Hors Service.

I’m hanging out with my friends in the courtyard of Santa Martha, one of the prisons in Mexico City, DF (Federal District). We’re drinking sweet milky coffees and working on our tans/sunburns, surrounded by mommas cuddling their kids, picnics, and couples fucking. My friends are here facing charges related to an attack that occurred on a Nissan dealership in DF, in early january 2014. It’s possible they could be here for a while, but instead of dwelling on that, we’re shooting the shit and talking about everything from crushes, gossip back home, and obviously, anarchy.

One conversation that comes up the most frequently has been about dignity, and what it means to preserve it in different contexts.  We talk about how any insubordination inside prison, even resisting a strip search, can mean beatings and being moved to solitary confinement. Any resistance can  result in a prisoner’s  ‘privileges’, such as visit from friends and family, being taken away from them. An accumulation of this ‘bad behaviour’ can result in a lifetime of imprisonment. Everyday, our friends who are locked up here make the choice as to whether to act seemingly obediently, or to refuse co-operation—which risks their physical and emotional health. As in life outside, some decisions are made prioritizing dignity, and others, comfort.

It’s through these conversations that I realize that, though dignity is a word that we pretend we have a generalized understanding of, everyone has a different and specific definition for what it means.  To me, dignity is the process of being accountable to an internal sense of self-worth. As an anarchist, it is knowing that I am deserving of autonomy and freedom; and it is the steps that I take to ensure this truth.

Using this definition, any time I let another body define my self-worth; any time I don’t have complete authority over how I spend my days, I lose an amount of my dignity. But it isn’t as simple as that—dignity isn’t only lost, it’s traded. It is the currency of power, and is traded back and forth for varying degrees of comfort and relative freedom.

I keep thinking about the dignity I traded to get here. About the three rounds of bag searches and body searches to get into Santa Martha. I’m thinking about how I’ve been exploiting my privilege and exchanging my dignity for an easy border crossing. Even before arriving, I was trading my agency over my how I spent my days for the money to buy the flight here. I’m thinking about how, every fucking day I’m alive, I exchange some amount of freedom, of sovereignty, of dignity for “comfort”. Every time I don’t hop the metro turnstiles, in every instance I pay for food, every moment I participate in capitalism and facilitate society, I am exchanging my dignity for ease and comfort.

Dignity is traded in an economy of power. This is most apparent in prison, where the outside social power structures are an amplified version inside the walls.  For example, in canadian prisons, the material items which help preserve an internal sense of humanity (coffee, toothpaste, postage stamps, etc.) are bought through the canteen. Money buys better lawyers, and with them comes a greater chance that the state will address the abuses faced by their clients at the hands of the prison, and thus “grant” the dignity of better treatment. Even a plea to the state authorities is a participation in the economy of dignity, and in reinforces their monopoly on dignity in prison. This exchange of money for dignity operates on the same economic level as the rest of canadian society.

This economy of power only became clear to me after visiting my friends in mexican prison because the mexican prison system is less bureaucratized. Although there is a formal economy inside (within the prison’s ‘tienda’–equivalent to a canteen), there is also a more evident informal economic system (people create their own markets and jobs), as well as a more informal economy of dignity/power: bribes. If you want to hold onto a scrap of dignity by not being patted down intensely, just slip the guards a 200 peso note. Want to bring in some letters from home? Slide a 20 across the table… Within this economy of power, what does it mean to maintain dignity? What would it mean to prevent it from becoming currency in circulation? And how many times a day do we trade it for relative comfort?

According to anarchist tendencies, here are some of the ways in which dignity is maintained:

– Through hunger strikes inside and outside of prisons
– Through refusing to sign restrictive bail conditions, and thereby refusing to give the state the authority to explicitly and systemically surveil and control one’s actions.
– Through refusing searches of one’s body, home and belongings
– Through a refusal to recognize the courts as having authority and jurisdiction over their lives and bodies.
– Through going ‘on the run’ or ‘underground’ instead of facing prison sentences
– Through refusing to co-operate with police investigations or snitch on friends and comrades.

It is telling that the moments where we think about and discuss dignity are when it is about to be stolen—in the times that the state has responded to our actions with increased repression. Dignity exists outside of these moments, and it is important to think about how we can maintain it in the everyday. It should go without saying that depending on how each individual defines their own freedom and sovereignty, this process of dignity reclamation in daily life will take different corresponding forms.

I wonder what it would look like if there was a culture here of anarchists defending their dignity, especially within the judicial process. The only time I have seen strong and consistent resistance to the canadian court system has been from individuals from several native communities, who refuse to recognize the legitimacy of the courts. Other times, when I have seen non-native anarchists or anti-authoritarians try to maintain their dignity in the face of the courts , these acts have been dismissed as being “not worth it”. A small gesture, like refusing to rise when the judge enters a courtroom, is considered “too costly”. It is generally understood that the discomfort of the cost—anything from a dirty look from a court cop to being charged with contempt of court—simply isn’t worth the assertion of dignity. Through the reinforcement of this understanding, we have set the price of our dignity—and it’s pretty low. What would it look like if we, who saw our hearts reflected in those who maintained their dignity during their court process, were to act in solidarity with them? What would it take to create a culture that supported these types of actions, instead of looking upon them as insignificant, or ‘not worth it’?

While I want to see and practice more examples of dignity being maintained, I don’t want to participate in the creation of informal standards or silent expectations for how an anarchist should act with dignity, regardless of how that individual defines it. This expectation is at risk of being enforced by spokespeople, and is eerily reminiscent of the creation of idols, martyrs, and heroes. In the past, I’ve witnessed situations where an anarchist is imprisoned or undergoing a court process, and they become the “face of anarchism”, and as such, are held to certain responsibilities and codes of conduct. This type of treatment pretends that the judicial and penal system are somehow separate from this society. The fundamental values and character of an individual doesn’t change simply because they enter a courtroom—their actions both in and outside of the judicial process will be mirrored. If we, as anarchists, try to hold those who are locked up to an informal set of behavioural expectations, we reproduce the dictatorship of the morality of our society.

No one has the responsibility to either represent or inspire me, though I do feel affinity with and find inspiration from people who go on hunger strike, or refuse to sign conditions, or who keep their mouths shut in the face of intense repression. I’m inspired and excited because I know that they are acting these ways to maintain their dignity, I feel solidarity and complicity with people for whom maintaining their dignity is the only fucking available option. It isn’t about ‘showing the state that you can maintain your dignity’. It isn’t about ‘proving’ anything to the state and  security apparatuses. It is about finding dignity in an internal authenticity.

I feel affinity not with people who are playing a specific role, for the creation or maintenance of some godforbidden ‘strategy’–I feel affinity with people who, in their cores, know that there is a part of them that cannot be stolen, cannot be corrupted by capitalism or this society. I am inspired by those who know that, as long as they keep that part of themselves intact, they cannot be broken.

Aug 282015
 

queerspacefeat

The following flyer was distributed during the Trans March of Pervers/Cité (the “radical queer pride”) which had its route approved by the SPVM:

In the last two weekends in Montreal, two of the summer’s bigger queer parties have been shut down by the police (July 18th Cousins and July 25th fundraiser party for perverse/cite). In the first case, a large number of filth conducted an operation against La Vitrola forcing the organizers to finish the party and violently dispersing partygoers – there were numerous beatings and several arrests. In the second case (perverse/cite), one car with two officers successfully ended the fun by threatening people with individual tickets; the response by queers at the party was dismal, lacked solidarity, and in the writers of this article’s opinion was ‘unqueer’ (we’ll explain what we mean by this later). Despite the efforts of some agitators to hand out face masks, the party was swiftly shut down and people drifted off into the night. These attacks by police are only one of many forms of violence against queers, but they are one of the most easy to fight back against since they are attacks on large groups of people; if we take collective action, we can resist and we can win. Below are some reasons why we cannot sit back and let these things happen, we hope they will encourage you to take a mask next time someone offers you one.

Premise 1: You have to take what you need by force.

Repression is nothing new to the queer community, but inaction in the face of State violence has never been and should not become the legacy of our milieu. From the historical battles of Compton’s Cafe riot and the Bash Back blocks at the Republican and Democrat conferences to the contemporary struggles of Washington DC’s ‘Check It’ “gang” and the so called “Gully Queens”, LGBTQ+ people have a rich history of self defense, collective action, and militant antagonism against the State and those who would commit violence against us. We should feel honored to have and obligated to defend this legacy. More than that though, we see in these struggles, riots, and defenses of space the acquisition by queers of greater protection, better material conditions and more fulfilled existences; without these struggles we would be even more vulnerable to violent transgressions, have less/no access to hormones, and would be unlikely to have a Queer Milieu to exist in. If we don’t continue to struggle against police incursions into our space, we will lose what little we do have.

Premise 2: Being “Anti Oppression” means fighting the police.

Montreal’s queer community appears on paper to be committed to “anti-oppressive” politics and “safer space”; to this end, commitments towards changing our language, behaviors, and interactions with others are an important part of combating fucked up systems of oppression such as sexism, cisexism, trans-phobia, white supremacy, and classism, but personal behavioral changes cannot be the limit of our anti-oppressive politics. The gang known as the SPVM are one cornerstone of racist, classist, trans-phobic, and anti sexworker oppression within our city, maintaining social peace through violent repression, kidnap, murder, and theft. For many queers living here they pose a greater threat than someone getting our pronouns wrong or saying something trans-phobic. Especially if you are white, cis, middle class and/or not a sex worker, you have a duty to keep space safer by not letting the police enter, by refusing to allow them to interfere with events, and by actively interrupting their everyday activities. Standing quiet in the face of police attacks bolsters the arguments for “policing by consent”, makes individual police officers feel safer, and encourages cops to greater acts of violence against the most vulnerable people. To be anti-oppression means to be anti-the police; it might mean getting hurt or going to jail, but for many queers that’s already a reality whether they actively attack the police or not. If you leave a space as soon as the police arrive you are actively making that space more dangerous for other people. Sometimes you might decide that’s necessary for your own well-being, but most of the time it’s safer for everyone to stick together. It’s pretty hard for the pigs to arrest 200-300 party goes, but it’s easy for them to arrest 20-30.

Premise 3: Queer as a position of Social War ¹

Gender and sexuality are coercive and oppressive forces enacted upon us by society; without society, without social war, we wouldn’t have the conceptions of gender and sexuality (and the roles that they enforce) that we do. To attack society’s notions of gender and sexuality and attempt a radical transformation of them (i.e to be Queer) is to choose to engage in a very specific front of social war; to draw a line in the sand and open hostilities with the rest of society. If queers stopped drawing this line, then they wouldn’t be queer anymore; queer can’t exist except as a negation of enforced genders and sexuality. If queer identity is assimilated into the social project then Queerness will become just another oppressive mechanism. Part of the police’s role is to defend and protect normative articulations of gender and sexuality as well as to defend “society” at large; we are obligated by the definition of Queerness to actively engage in conflict with the police. In not fighting the police we are defending the existing paradigms of gender and sexuality and actively repressing Queerness.

Premise 4: It’s Fun!

Never mind getting drunk and dancing till your feet hurt, the raw joy experienced by fellow combatants in street conflicts with the police is something your dealer wishes they could market! If being queer is about forming new kinds of exciting, strange, and meaningful interactions and social relations, then what could be more interesting, exciting and strange than actively dismantling the State hand in hand with your new date/s; than breaking windows together, dancing atop a ruined cop car and running away into the night to make joyous criminal love. We don’t want to over-glamorize conflicts where friends get hurt, but fighting together and winning is one of the most exciting, joyous and liberating experiences these writers have ever had. Wouldn’t it be fun to chase the pigs off streets that belong to us and turn the whole fucking road into a queer dance party?

This communique was written by “The Angry Trans Mob”, we’re a crew of trans people from different backgrounds, struggles, and experiences who see the need for the expansion of conflict between Montreal’s queer milieu and the police/State/transphobes. We stand in solidarity with all those fighting to defend their communities (be those physical spaces/districts/towns or metaphysical ideas/identities/formations) from domination, attack, and destruction regardless of the weapons they choose to employ. We hope this communique inspires others to action.

And remember kids, ‘dead cops can’t kill!’

1) Social war refers to the conflicts waged everyday against our bodies by capitalism, the State, and the police, as well as by our friends, families, lovers, and ourselves. It is a way of describing the violence of all existing paradigms of reality/social relations and the struggles to change or destroy them. Positions within social war are constantly shifting insofar as individuals constantly, simultaneously and interchangeably embody the roles of oppressor and oppressed. Lines of conflict are drawn throughout physical and immaterial reality, and manifest as everything from the moment a doctor decides the gender of a newborn baby, to throwing bricks through the windows of a bank, to even the project of constructing the “human” subject.

Some Clarifications, thoughts, and rebuttals

▼ When we talk of fighting, we want to clarify we don’t think of fighting as inherently violent (not that we oppose violence) or necessarily as taking violent action (which we support). We think of fighting as anything from non-compliance, to staying close and solidaritous to prevent targeted arrests, to molotoving a police car; we don’t think everyone should be prepared to do all of those things but we do think people should be prepared to support and enable them.

▼ Space for us is not just a particular party or event, space extends physically and immaterially around and along any line that people call queer, from personal identity to physical locations. The milieu is a “space”; to this end we think that many “spaces” can occupy one location e.g. When defending a certain party from police incursion one is defending both the location and space of the party, but also queer space as concept, and milieu space as a formation. For these reasons, we think that the defense of every and any queer location (be that cousins, the queer book-fair, a sex party, etc.) is essential in order to maintain the concept of queer space which acts as a safety net for some of those most targeted by repression. An attack against a queer party is an attack against queerness; if enough parties are shut down the amount of space queerness occupies will be reduced.

▼ We are against the discourse that certain Diasporas of people cannot engage in conflict because of oppressions they experience or dangers that they face. While we completely support any individual who feels they cannot engage due to issues of status, race, class, gender, etc., we think that narratives such “certain people can’t do x…” are often infantilizing, untrue, and patronizing. While we should never expect anyone to be prepared to act in a certain way (unless they want to), we should not presuppose people’s abilities for them; all over the world people in precarious situations struggle (often illegally) despite the cost that they might incur. It is just as true to say, for instance, that a demonstration which has been approved with the police is likely to make people feel unsafe as one that is declared illegal – if you don’t know people’s personal histories, you don’t know whether seeing demonstration organizers collaborate with police might feel more unsafe than being at an illegal demonstration. Moreover, collaborating with the police because a demonstration is not likely to do illegal things or to make certain people feel safer may further isolate people whose lives and existences are inherently illegalized. The hierarchies of danger established by the milieu should be constantly contested and debated.

▼ We reject the idea that violent resistance is inherently and exclusively white and male; we think this position is often used to delegitimize tactics that don’t fit into certain people’s ideas of acceptability and is sexist and trans-misogynistic as well as historically inaccurate.

▼ Although we firmly support self-identification, we reject postmodernism and the idea that anything can be called queer. We believe that queer is a positionality connected to other positionalites (such as race or class) and that there are certain limitations to what and who can be considered queer (just as a cis person cannot be trans, and a self identified trans person cannot be cis). For example, we think that a police office cannot be queer, because the role that they take in enforcing existing gender paradigms is contra queerness.

queerspace8.5×14″ | PDF

Feb 242015
 

From Fire to the Prisons

In February 2012, as the Occupy movement tapered off, a strike broke out against austerity measures in the Québécois higher education system. Prevented from occupying buildings as it had in 2005, the student movement shifted to a strategy of economic disruption: blockading businesses, interrupting conferences and tourist events, and spreading chaos in the streets. At its peak, the resulting unrest surpassed any protest movement in North America for a generation.

The following is an interview with Steve Duhamel aka “Waldo”. A frustrated exstudent, and Quebec-er.

FttP: What was the context for the massive upheavals, mobilizations, and riots that broke out in Montreal in 2012? What took place before these events that helped propel them forward?

Waldo: The original context was an always rising tension between students and the government around the tuition hike issue and a general conception of what public education should be. Kind of boring, but it gets better. We all knew about 2 years in advance that this tuition hike was planned, and in the previous years/months, there were different actions and demonstrations to warn the government that this one will not pass. This government, who had been in power for 9 years, didn’t care much about these protests and arrogantly decided to go forward. They knew that no “political” opposition (as in the official and classical politics) could defeat them, whatever they did, and that they had all the legitimacy to repress any form of “street politics” that wouldn’t recognize their authority.

To get a more general overview of the context, let’s say that what people call society was also becoming more polarized than ever, since both political parties running Québec have a neo-liberal rightwing program and have been alternatively doing some shitty reforms for the past 30 years in order to save their damned economic growth. While the opposition (PQ) was getting its popularity from being the defenders of the French-speakers against the Anglo-Saxon cultural hegemony, they kinda lost all of that slight legitimacy since they’ve been doing the same shit as the federalists from the governing PLQ. This mostly means that social movements progressively took a distance from the Québécois Party (PQ) which itself was born out of (the recuperation of) popular unrests in the 1960’s. This contributed for a long time to prevent any social upheaval, and helped justify a lot of what some folks call “class collaboration” between bosses and the poor. But now, the PQ has a hard time convincing the Québécois folks that the State can really work for them. The last time a tuition hike led to a general student strike was in 1996, while PQist Pauline Marois (the one that was elected in the aftermath of the 2012 movement) was minister of education. Who could believe in her when she came back to oppose Charest?

While PQ usually masks its agenda behind a thin social-democrat veneer, the very “liberal” PLQ openly shits on the poor and doesn’t bother with fake public consultations to sell the province to promoters, mining industries, fracking business, and so on. The Liberal Party of premier Charest came back to power in 2003, and as soon as 2005, a large student strike fought against its plan to cut a huge part of the student scholarship programs (that were set to be replaced by loans, i.e. always more debts). The 2005 strike was really inspiring in its forms of actions, and its spirit was still very present to a lot of the 2012 strikers (way more than what happened in California in 2009, for instance; to a smaller degree, some people were inspired by what was happening then in Chile). Upon entering the movement, large parts of the students already had a mistrust of the reformist federations and even of the more militant ones like ASSÉ. Many people also knew that the strength of the strike came from the uncontrollable multiplication of all kinds of economic and institutional disruptions. And not from the ultra-democratic idea of unity that would decide for any meaningful action and discourse of the movement. That leads to your second question.

FttP: What was the relationship between more insurrectionary anarchist/autonomous groups and the student federations?

Waldo: There wasn’t a single attitude amongst the anarchists in relation to the federations. Where all of them agreed to critique even the ASSÉ (the more militant federation that calls for free education and some kind of self-management) on its reformist demands, a lot of anarchists, even insurrectionary etc, thought it was cool that ASSÉ existed, or at least the CLASSE (which was a coalition of ASSÉ and different independent local unions) because it made it easier to organize a large scale mobilization, to create the event, that could afterward be overwhelmed. On one hand, some anarchists really think the direct-democracy model of the federation’s unionbased assemblies is valid and should only be carried further, that the problem is mostly the lack of consciousness or radical [perspective] of its members, and they think it’s all about radicalizing these spaces, criticizing their discourse on non-violence; a lot of these folks kind of wish there wasn’t a contradiction between the black bloc and the federations. Some others also dream of direct democracy but think we cannot hope anything from the federations except betrayal, and therefore we should build our own spaces and assemblies and organize/ coordinate outside of the “Rand-formula” type mandatory unions we’re stuck with.

Attempts to create such parallel assemblies mostly failed, in 2012, except for a small period between late May and June, when people had these big neighborhood assemblies born out of the massive potsand-pan marches against the “special law.” On the other hand, other anarchist tendencies don’t believe at all in the unions as the basis for the future anarchist society and all of these radical democratic mythologies. While some are more into a nihilistic perspective of the confrontation, against any form of schooling and any possible demands, others think it has never been a question of being for or against the unions, that we should just never believe in it, never think any kind of solution can come from there, or from school in general. It’s rather a question of how to deal with it, how to see the potentiality of it, beyond any moralism or radical purity; how can we compose with the federations, if they are to be there anyway. In any case, federations are to be considered as something alien, that we cannot identify with, but upon which we can intervene, we can meet, make use of, in a way or another.

FttP: Before large scale street demonstrations began, students occupied buildings. How did these actions pave the way for things to come? Were these initial occupations influenced by student occupations in the US or elsewhere?

Waldo: In fact, I wouldn’t say that 2012 was highlighted by any occupations, not being the street itself. Some actions involved blockades of schools or public buildings, disruption of financial centers and such, but from what I know, none of the actual schools in strike were really occupied. On the first day of the strike, people did take over the famous CEGEP du Vieux-Montréal (a pre-university college downtown) whose occupations were once considered the stronghold of the student movement in the previous student strikes. But this time, hundreds of fully-equipped robocops came right away to remind the youth that revolution was no picnic and kicked their asses out of there. About 45 people were jailed and legally banned from the protests for months. The others were dispersed with concussion grenades and pepper-spay. The college was then locked out for the next six months of the strike.

This doesn’t mean people didn’t want to occupy, or that it wasn’t part of our mythology, but the facts are that people didn’t even use many university spaces in the daytime to meet and organize. While in 2005 a lot of people would organize sleepins on different campuses, and cook tons of food to sustain the occupation and make it possible for people to stand together on the frontline, the 2012 strike mostly happened in the street, with people moving all the time, endlessly marching until burning themselves out— when they wouldn’t burn anything else. Yes, occupation of the street, but I would add: mobile occupation, in two different ways. 1.) There were very few attempts to take outdoor public space and keep it, and it was never aimed to last more than a couple hours (I heard about an “occupy” camp outside U.de M., but it didn’t work out). 2.) Outside of that, we could say that it really was the students themselves that were occupied, busy as they were with facebook and twitter and all that shit all the time. No doubt, the strike was really “occupied” by all these new “communication” devices, livestream and everything…

FttP: Anarchists and insurrectionary autonomists promoted their ideas through publications and saw many students join in their ranks during the yearly March 15th protests against police brutality. Can you talk about how insurrectionary antiauthoritian ideas were spread, and took on new currency during this time of struggle? For instance, anarchists and insurrectionists have talked a lot about how the use of masks spread through the long process of militants doing it during demos/riots, and also explained why they were doing it in conversations and flyers.

Waldo: I’d say that, as opposed to previous movements, this strike was amazingly rich with radical literature, specifically in the couple months leading to it, but then almost nothing consistent was really produced during the movement. It was as if every political tendency, anarchist circle or whatever (often born out of the 2005 movement), had their own publication ready before the strike in order to set things clear, to share what they had learned from the past struggles and go forward with a couple propositions.

Once the strike was launched, very few texts were circulating outside worthless opinions on the internet. Still, from what I recall, at one point (after a demo where some excited douche bags had beaten the shit out of a couple of black clad kids) we saw at least half a dozen different flyers criticizing the authoritarian pacifist ideology that undermined solidarity amongst demonstrators. As for the masks, more than any literature, I’d say it’s the practice itself of wearing them, and the cops practice of systematically filming protesters, that led to widespread use of masks. The same for the March 15th demo, I think it got bigger that year because of the context, where a lot of people were experiencing daily repression by angry cops and a guy lost an eye like 3 days before the demo. Even the mayor advertised for the demo on TV, telling people not to go!

FttP: What led to the student movement spilling out in the wider social terrain?

Waldo: To make it short, I’d say that first, there was already popular support of the students, that was made visible by the widespread use of the “red square” pin by millions of people and also by the 500,000 people marches like the one on March 26th, where the majority wasn’t even student, and showed the growing unpopularity of the Charest government. People literally had enough, and students were seen as the only sector of society that could massively mobilize, since all workplace unions and work laws make it almost impossible to build a real massive and coordinated union-based general strike.

A lot of people that weren’t students didn’t want to get too into the movement since they thought it wasn’t theirs, so they remained in a solidarity position, but what made a clear difference was the insolent and arrogant attitude of prime minister Charest, his constant provocations and specifically the declaration of a “special law,” in the night between the 17th and 18th of May, that made demonstrations illegal and added expensive fines for any acts of striking, blockading, occupation and so on. This law also locked out students from their schools until the end of summer to allow businesses to hire summer jobbers, and incidentally produce a demobilizing effect, since there was no more university to block. Maybe worst of all, the law came with the announcement of anticipated elections in the first week of September. The first weeks following the declaration of the dirty law saw an unprecedented social reaction: daily demonstrations in different towns and neighborhoods, with thousands of people defying the State; you would see your unknown neighbors smiling at you, chanting along the common motto: “The special law, we don’t give a damn!”

But then, after I’d say the week of the Grand Prix, (around June 10th), people slowly started to take a break, go on vacation to rest until, we all thought, the real war was to begin. The government forced schools to reopen around August 13th, starting with the CEGEPs, but even with all the motivation of the most determined strikers, a lot of assemblies finally and sadly voted with a slight majority against the continuation of the strike. Many students either got scared to lose their semester, and others thought it was pointless to remain on strike while there was going to be an election soon which meant there was no government to deal with yet. That fucked us real bad. A lot of leftists started to say we should spend our energies mobilizing for the elections, so that Charest would be kicked out. That was also a big reason why popular support got weaker; a lot of people thought we should vote and drop our bricks and stones.

Then, what we saw was no surprise. PQ got elected – with only a minority of the assembly – that silly Marois became premier and she did proclaim the abrogation of the special law and temporarily canceled the tuition hike. But that was just bullshit, it took a couple weeks before she said we would have to negotiate some kind of tuition hike sometime soon and she didn’t revoke all the municipal laws that were declared during the movement— e.g. making it criminal to wear masks and to march without permission from the cops. The most ridiculous part of this history is that Marois, who survived an assassination attempt by an Anglo redneck freak gone mad the night she got elected, didn’t politically survive the reactionary populist move she made the year after, aimed at imposing her “chart of values,” supposedly to protect the Québécois “secular” culture against foreign influences. So multi-culturalist PLQ came back to power less than a year and a half after the end of the strike that our funny syndicalist friends claimed was victorious!

FttP: During Occupy in the US, we largely saw that when the state attacked, the movement often quickly folded. Whereas in Montreal, we saw people go on the offensive. Was this because people found that they could win street battles? As in the famous scenes of people making the pigs turn tail and flee?

Waldo: Québécois or Montrealers aren’t more courageous, or even more anarchist than anywhere else. The end of the movement has proven that. Only, there is the specificity of the situation: an overly and counter-productively arrogant government in front of a massive and determined movement that leaves a lot of autonomy to its base, all of that in a relatively tight-knit society where anything echoes really fast. This might be an explanation as to why the Anglo campuses weren’t as mobilized, even if they were, more than ever before. People were pumped by Charest and the cops, who underestimated the determination of the students and their popular support (politics is often a gamble). This easily led to an escalation, were people saw they were strong and felt it was OK to kick a few cops asses.

FttP: Can you talk about how resistance to Plan Nord brought anarchist, student, and indigenous struggles together? Can you explain what Plan Nord is and why people were interested in destroying it?

Waldo: Plan Nord is just the name for a new phase of in-your-face colonization of the North-Eastern part of the continent, that is claimed by the colonial states of Québec and Canada. It’s hard to tell how seriously the average students marching against Charest took Plan Nord, or how many of those same students stormed the Plan Nord convention because of anti-colonial and ecologist convictions or whatever. Of course, there is an official sympathy amongst the movement toward these struggles, but I think the disruption of the congress and the riot that occurred was made possible because everybody knew it would make Charest angry, since Plan Nord was like his “little thing” he was so proud of, and that every decent person thinks it’s robbery. I still think that it’s in these kind of social upheavals that struggles that appear to be different show how much they are related, and impact one another. It’s still because of the strike they were involved in that many people got interested in native peoples’ struggles, and specifically in the fight against Plan Nord.

FttP: When the government outlawed protests of more than 50 people, the movement grew and more people joined. Community popular assemblies sprung up. Can you talk about these gatherings? How widespread were they?

Waldo: I’ve talked about that earlier, but let’s say theses assemblies were spontaneously created in at least a dozen neighborhoods of Montreal, and for about a month, they would meet around once a week, in a park or a community space, and, depending on the neighborhood, there were between 30 and 300 people. This number slowly went down as the summer came, and also, we must admit, as they got formalized and semi-institutionalized. What was interesting is how much different the organizational issue differed from one neighborhood to another. I mean, some were super obsessed with structures and sophisticated mechanisms that are supposed to help prevent domination and oppressive patterns in groups, others were more relaxed, but weren’t necessarily more effective, some would focus more on community issues while some remained in a position of solidarity with the student movement.

But yeah, too little too late, I suppose. I think it would have been really different if theses assemblies would have started earlier in the movement, and more than everything (and more realistically), if the strike had continued in September. It would have totally changed the quality of the movement. I mean, it could have opened a place where the union assemblies wouldn’t be the main space to discuss and organize the struggle, and it could have spread more easily to non-student issues and places. The elections really killed all these potentialities.

FttP: In an interview with Submedia, one anarchist participant talked about the use of projectiles in creating/defending space from the police, and the ability that physical attack gave people in expanding the conflictual nature of the strike. Can you speak to this?

Waldo: I don’t know what to say about that. Is it the expansion of the conflict that makes it possible to attack, or the opposite? Is it going both ways? The ability to attack didn’t always mean ability to get away with it. A lot of people got badly wounded with nothing much to show for it. There has been a lot of talking amongst anarchists in the last 15 years about “diversity of tactics,” but very few people thought about diversity of strategies, leaving this problem to union bosses, Leninists and social-democrats. And to the police, and the capitalists. Let’s say there is a confrontation. What is the space that we create, that we defend, while doing what we do? It’s not always quite clear. I’m totally not against all kinds of direct action, but I think sometimes there is a dangerous belief that direct action is good in itself, while it can often make us weaker. Black bloc was once a tactic, nowadays it often looks like an ideology, an identity. We should never denounce comrades who engage in this type of action and we should be ready, as much as we can, to protect them against cops and violent pacifists, but I think “attacking” can never become a strategy in itself; can never replace the need for a strategy. This said, the question should never be whether we attack or not, but rather how do we do it, when and where. What makes it possible to attack in a way that gives us more strength instead of isolating us? These are serious questions.

We should not neglect the anxiety that direct actions create amongst the activists themselves and their friends, when it’s done without thinking, because it’s seen as the radical good. It’s not just attacking that makes people able and willing to attack, that expands the conflictuality of a movement, it’s the strength that we build through all kinds of links, shared experiences, shared spaces and materials, tools and stories, and languages, shared love and thrust, etc. All kinds of things also come into play when it’s time to fight, which constitutes our strength, and that we cannot put at risk for a matter of purity or for a romantic belief in the power of action. An action is not good because it’s against the right enemy nor because it has good intentions: it’s only good when it makes us stronger. To the moralism of pathological pacifists, we should not impose another kind of moralism.

FttP: What does the future hold for those in Montreal? Will we see continued unrest at the universities and beyond?

Waldo: Everything is possible. The tuition hike is showing up again and the federations are already mobilized. The experience of 2012 is still fresh and a lot of people don’t want to lose what has been learned and built. The repressive machine is better prepared, and more determined than ever, it’s hard to say if people are too. There is already some organizing being done outside the unions, and the electoral threat should not be part of the play this time. It’s hard to tell if there will be as much popular support, but there are apparently more chances that we will see different unions from the public sector go on strike in the next months (even the cops are currently protesting against the Québec government). I still think we should not hope for anything and just do what we have to do. Things always happen anyway, it’s just a matter of staying ready.

More on the 2012 Student Strike:
www.crimethinc.com/texts/recent features/montreal1.php
In French:
faire-greve.blogspot.ca

Feb 242015
 

From Fire to the Prisons

The following is an interview with Gord Hill (Kwakwaka’wakw nation), who frequently writes under the pseudonym Zig Zag. He is also the author of The 500 Years of Resistance Comic Book, The Anti-Capitalist Resistance Comic Book (both published by Arsenal Pulp Press), and 500 Years of Indigenous Resistance (published by PM Press).

Fire to the Prisons (FttP): In 2014 there has been a flurry of activity in Native communities who are engaged in blockades of roads against timber sales, mining projects, against missing and murdered aboriginal women, occupations of hydro dams, against trophy hunting, and also large blockades against oil pipelines. Can you tell us more about these campaigns and actions and the context in which they are happening? What drives these struggles?

Zig Zag (ZZ): Native peoples in Canada have been carrying out blockades and other actions since the 1970s, in the modern era as it were. In the last few years, beginning perhaps in the early 2000s, there has been an increase in these activities of protest and resistance for various reasons; I don’t think there’s one particular reason. Each campaign or struggle has its own history and characteristics; events that make them grow or decline. Having said that I would also add that there seems to be an overall increase in political consciousness and activity over the last decade, and I think this is occurring on a global level so that when Native peoples in Canada see events such as the “Arab Spring” or Occupy, or the Toronto G20 [riots], there’s a sense that protesting is something that’s more “acceptable” or common, or perhaps even productive. But as I mentioned, each struggle also has its own dynamics that drive it.

In regards to the missing and murdered women, this has been a campaign that began in the late 1990s and in particular the high number of women that began disappearing from Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside, when there were somewhere around 70 missing women dating back to the 1970s, and mostly through the ‘80s and ‘90s. By the late ‘90s, Native women’s groups in Vancouver began organizing, including an annual memorial march on February 14th. Since that time, other towns and cities have also begun organizing similar rallies and marches to draw attention to this issue. So that’s how this campaign has increased, and more recently, over the last two years, some communities have also carried out temporary blockades of highways and trains.

The anti-pipeline struggle is another example of a campaign that has emerged over the last few years, as a result of increased Tar Sands production and Canada’s goal of becoming a major petro-state for the Asian and US markets. All this requires pipelines to transport the oil and gas, originally envisioned as passing through central British Columbia (BC) from Alberta, to coastal ports and then on tanker ships. These proposals for several major pipelines have given rise to an unprecedented mobilization of Natives in central BC and along the coast in opposition to both major pipeline projects and oil tanker traffic. Even government-imposed band councils have voiced their opposition to some of these (while making agreements for others). And this anti-pipeline, anti-oil tanker movement is informed by various factors, including the Exxon Valdez oil spill in southern Alaska and northern BC that resulted in extensive environmental damages that persist to this day, the 2005 sinking of the Queen of the North ferry in an area similar to the route proposed for oil tanker traffic, the 2011 Gulf of Mexico BP oil spill which horrified people around the world and across BC, as well as ongoing and frequent reports of new oil pipeline ruptures and tanker spills.

Protests and blockades against logging have been somewhat common since at least the 1970s, and in fact occur less frequently now due to a decline in the forestry industry overall, although some communities such as Grassy Narrows in Ontario are still fighting to stop clear cut logging.

In regards to mining projects, some of the more recently proposed mining projects have been in central and northern BC, areas which have only been opened up to large scale exploration and industrial activity since the 1970s and ‘80s. Some new mining projects, as well as oil and gas development, is the result of new technologies that make it economically worthwhile to build roads and other infrastructure, so in these areas as well Native peoples are mobilizing to defend vital parts of their territories, such as the Tahltan in north BC who have resisted various mining and gas projects for the last 7-8 years. More recently, there was a major disaster in BC at the Mount Polley mine, when its tailings pond ruptured sending large amounts of contaminated water into a river and forest system. Operated by Imperial Metals, Mt. Polley is located in Secwepemc territory, who are already opposing other mining projects. Now, other communities facing similar mining projects, including those operated by Imperial Metals, are more determined to stop new mining projects.

Overall, you can see an increase in industrial development in more northern regions across Canada, as well as an increase in Indigenous resistance against these projects. I also wouldn’t discount the effect of social media and people being able to not only gain counter-information, but also the ability to produce their own communications when, for example, a small isolated community carries out a blockade. In the 1980s, it would’ve taken longer for information to get out unless the corporate media was covering it.

FttP: There is a long history of indigenous resistance in what is called Canada dating back to European invasion. In the last several decades, there has been large scale armed defense of land occupations. Can you tell us about this history and how it informs current struggles?

ZZ: The first Native armed actions in Canada occurred in 1974, following the siege at Wounded Knee in 1973. These were at Cache Creek, BC, and Anicinabe Park in Ontario. Without doubt, the most significant armed standoff occurred in 1990 involving the Mohawk communities of Kanesatake and Kahnawake, both of which are near Montreal, Quebec. This standoff emerged over a conflict about the municipality of Oka’s decision to expand a nine hole golf course and to build a condominium project into an area known as the Pines, which contained a Mohawk graveyard, lacrosse field, as well as the last patch of trees left in the area. Many non-Native Oka residents also opposed these projects. Over the course of about a year the Mohawks and citizens organized protests and petitions, and in the spring of 1990 began blockading a small dirt road. On July 11, the Surete du Quebec (Quebec provincial police) attempted to raid the blockade and dismantle it, but their heavily armed tactical unit was met with armed resistance by warriors. After a brief fire fight one cop was killed, and the rest of the police retreated, abandoning their vehicles which were then used to expand the blockade to include nearby highways and roads. At the same time Mohawks in Kahnawake blockaded the Mercier Bridge, a major commuter link from the suburbs to downtown Montreal. This set in motion a 77 day armed standoff. By August, the Canadian military deployed a mechanized brigade of about 5,000 soldiers.

The standoff at Oka generated widespread solidarity across the country, with Natives occupying government buildings and blockading highways and trains. Some sabotage also occurred, with railway bridges and electrical transmission towers brought down. The golf course was never expanded, and the condos were never built. Oka had a tremendous effect on Indigenous struggles in Canada and set the tone for resistance actions through the decade and to this day. The imagery of masked and camouflaged warriors has been emulated across the country at numerous protests and blockades, without the AK-47s.

In 1995 there was another armed standoff in south central BC at a place called Gustafsen Lake located in Secwepemc territory, who called the lake Ts’Peten. This standoff occurred after a US rancher sought to evict a Sundance camp which was located on Crown land. After his cowboys had threatened an elder and his family, warriors traveled to the camp to offer protection, and the New Democratic Party, a social democratic party then in power as the provincial government, authorized a major police operation involving over 450 heavily armed police from the RCMP. They acquired armored personnel vehicles from the Canadian military, flew surveillance planes over the camp, and on September 11th ambushed a vehicle used by the defenders by detonating an explosive charge which blew up the front end of the truck and then rammed it with an APC. This initiated an hours long fire fight, during which police fired over 77,000 rounds of ammunition, killing a dog and wounding one defender. This standoff lasted about a month, and ended after the defenders laid down their arms. One elder, Wolverine, received the longest jail sentence of 8 years.

While these acts of armed resistance are historical events which had profound impacts on Indigenous people’s struggles in Canada, they are not very common. While the Mohawks have both the resources and personnel with military experience to engage in these types of actions, most communities do not. Most communities are more capable of carrying out low-level acts of resistance, including blockades, which are far more common than armed actions. I think the recent example of the Mi’kmaq anti-fracking struggle in New Brunswick is a good example of this, and one that more communities could engage in. Another recent example would be the resistance at Six Nations, where hundreds of people from the community engaged in blockades as well as acts of sabotage to stop the construction of a condo project.

FttP: In a recent interview with the Canadian anarchist Franklin Lopez, they talked about how the success of road blockades has driven many people to continue and expand the tactic. Can you attest to this success?

ZZ: Indigenous peoples in Canada have been using the blockade tactic since the 1970s, and in the ‘80s the governmentfunded band councils also began using blockades during negotiations with government or industry as political leverage/ public relations types of activities. But certainly many grassroots movements continue to use the blockade because they are effective in disrupting industrial activity and creating political pressure on the state. In addition, many highways, roads, and railways are located near reserves or cut right through reserves, so they are easily accessible.

FttP: In an interview you did regarding the Idle No More movement, you talk about the class dynamics of the leadership structure and the limit of reformist aims. Can you tell us more?

ZZ: The official organizers of INM came from middleclass professions: lawyers and academics, so this class position determined their overall methods which were entirely focused on legal-political reforms. They worked closely with another middle-class element which were Indian Act band councilors and chiefs. They came out strongly against any radical actions such as blockades and attempted to impose control over the movement, in particular their pacifist beliefs. In fact, it was the first time a major mobilization like this imposed pacifist methods on Native peoples. The main goal of this movement was to stop the federal government from passing an omnibus budget bill that was going to change many federal laws, including ones providing some level of environmental protection for land and water. The bill passed in mid-December, however, and despite a few more weeks of large rallies the movement was unable to sustain itself.

One aspect of their legalistic-pacifist approach was a strict limit on the types of actions people could carry out, so they were really limited to “flash mob” round dances in shopping malls and city streets, which ultimately have little impact. Thankfully this movement, while it did indeed mobilize thousands of Natives out to rallies, did not last long. We can compare the tactics of INM to those used during the Quebec student strike of 2012, which included not only ongoing rallies but also occupations and militant street protests that cost the Quebec government millions of dollars in property damage and lost revenue. The strike led to the cancellation of the student tuition increase as well as a change in the provincial government. Or you can look at the Six Nations land reclamation, which cost the state tens of millions of dollars in property damage, compensation, paying for policing operations, and lost business. That condo project has never been built.

FttP: In a recent talk you did on anarchism and indigenous resistance, you discuss ways in which the two struggles work together and support each other. Can you tell us more?

ZZ: Well I think I mostly talked about the similarities between anarchist and Indigenous struggles and how there were more possibilities for solidarity as a result of this, and in particular the general absence of a centralized State system, the emphasis on decentralized and autonomous forms of self-organization, and the need for anti-colonial and anti-capitalist analysis in both movements. This can be compared to other forms of organization used by groups such as political parties or unions, as well as NGOs, all of which typically have bureaucratic or even hierarchical structures.

These types of groups often align themselves with the Indian Act band councils, which are often in conflict with genuine grassroots movements.

FttP: In the same talk, you relate the black bloc to Warrior Societies. How do you think anarchists could popularize more confrontational tactics to be seen in a more positive light, and not as ‘outside agitators’ or people who bring upon repression to social struggles?

ZZ: I think one of the big problems the Left or “progressive movements” have in North America is a real lack of fighting spirit or combativeness. They are so controlled and dominated by professional organizers who pursue strictly legal-political forms of struggle; that people who want to engage in more radical and militant actions are marginalized and isolated, which makes them vulnerable to State repression. Every successful resistance movement in history has used a diversity of tactics, including militant actions. When a movement wants to raise the level of militancy I think one of the most important steps is to build a culture of resistance, and to begin to “normalize” acts of resistance. At the same time, movements also have to go through learning phases. A lot of people who get involved at first think purely in terms of legal-political reforms, petitions to State officials, peaceful rallies, etc. This is “normalized” by the bureaucrats who run most of the social justice, NGO-type groups, as well as corporate media and entertainment. Only by participating in struggles and learning first-hand the futility of using strictly legal-political means will people become radicalized and begin using more militant tactics.

FttP: In one of your latest publications, “Smash Pacifism: A Critical Analysis of Gandhi and King,” you argue that in the US, pacifist movements are largely headed by middle-class leadership. You also argue that riots had a much larger effect on policy changes than non-violent pleas for reform. Can you tell us more?

ZZ: Well the “official” leadership of the Black civil rights movement were certainly middle class, they were Baptist preachers, lawyers, and other professionals who, because of their greater resources and “legitimacy,” were able to exert significant influence and control over the movement, as occurs in virtually every social movement in North America. In regards to the riots, the official history of the civil rights movements showcases the peaceful rallies and arrests as being what made significant change, when in reality it was a diversity of tactics including armed resistance as well as mass urban revolts, which inflicted hundreds of millions of dollars in damages to property. It was this economic disruption, and the threat of even greater unrest, that prompted the federal government to enact civil rights legislation and to also begin dumping millions and millions of dollars into poor communities and organizations as part of the “war on poverty,” which led to the institutionalization of the non-governmental organization industry. But I don’t think it’s as simple as saying the riots did more than the civil rights protests, because they all contributed to overall rebelliousness of the Black population. Some of the main proponents of militant Black Power came out of the “nonviolent” groups, such as Stokely Carmichael, for example.

FttP: As we speak, from droughts to diseases and disasters brought on by climate change, things continue to get worse as capitalist civilization pushes us closer to the brink. Some small towns are without water, and fracking pollutes watersheds and threatens people’s lives. What advice would you give militants and radicals working within this context?

ZZ: Along with anti-capitalist and anti-colonial analyses I also advocate a dual strategy of survival and resistance. Resistance is necessary to defend land and people to ensure our survival into the future, while at the same time we must consider the overall situation and the increasing possibility of substantial systemic failures arising from various intertwining sources, including economic and ecological crises. If we were to simply focus on survival we would prepare, learn skills, secure land, etc, but vast areas of land could be contaminated in the meantime that would severely erode people’s ability to survive in the long term. I think that by organizing a broader resistance we can also build stronger networks that will also assist in long term survival.

FttP: Throughout your art work and writings, you often discuss how drugs and alcohol are used against Native peoples and aid in their subjugation. From trailer parks where meth is produced to ghettos filled with CIA funded crack-cocaine, we see similar realities elsewhere. Do you have any advice to others working for radical change in these situations?

ZZ: The subject of drug and alcohol addiction is something I touch on, but I wouldn’t describe it as “often.” It’s a social reality that oppressed populations suffer from higher levels of social dysfunction, with drugs and alcohol being common. From my experience in working with communities it’s best to not take a judgmental attitude or you’ll just alienate large sectors of the population. You have to know people’s strengths and weaknesses, and if they have drug and/or alcohol addictions then that needs to be considered when planning actions or campaigns, knowing that some people will not be reliable for some types of work, or can’t be trusted with handling money, etc. But these people can change, and I know when communities are actually engaged in resistance and large numbers of people participate, the levels of drug and alcohol abuse decline because people are working together, feeling solidarity and purpose for a common good.

FttP: What can people expect from you in the future? What projects are you working on that you are excited about?

ZZ: I am presently maintaining the site:
WarriorPublications.wordpress.com where I post news relating to Indigenous people’s struggles, primarily in Canada.

Nov 042014
 

From Anarchist News

The past week has seen two attacks in Canada against Canadian soldiers by Muslim men. In response, thousands of people filled the streets to wave flags and call for heightened surveillance, preventive arrests, and war in the middle east. The crowds are calling for a police state. It feels heavy, and we’re stuck watching with dread as the crowds seem intent on re-enacting propaganda scenes from the 1936 Olympics in Berlin. Except in Canada in 2014, instead of a torch the crowds are cheering on the progress of a dead soldier whose corpse was driven from Ottawa to Hamilton.

The politics advanced by these two spectacles are alarmingly similar: to defeat the enemy outside our borders, we have to defeat the enemy within. In theory, the military and police are distinct bodies with separate roles. But even though these attacks targeted soldiers and followed Canada’s decision to go to war in Iraq and Syria, the response to them will be through policing.

People are in the streets calling for a police state: Why isn’t everyone with an extremist ideology being watched around the clock? If you have enough suspicion to surveil someone, why can’t you arrest them? What additional powers do police need to surveil and assess who has an extremist ideology? They are calling for the further merging of policing and military roles, for the expansion of counter-insurgency warfare within the canadian territory.

The second soldier killed was from Hamilton and his regiment is based right downtown, on a rapidly gentrifying stretch of James St, just a few blocks from where I’m writing. For three days, the street has seen a proliferation of flags and public displays of grief. Local media dutifully film the spectacle and broadcast it back to us – in the echo chamber, grief and nationalism become inseparable. Any questioning of the state is a failure of compassion for the tragic hero.

There is no space for a critical public narrative around this, which is unsurprising. Cue the usual calls for anyone visibly Muslim to participate in the public grief – the local imam makes his way down to the armory to lay a wreath and remind everyone that he’s Canadian to. With us or against us – the logic of war begins to take over. Meanwhile, in Alberta, in the same town that hosts the fighter jets that just left for Iraq, nationalists paint “Go Home” and “Canada” across the face of a mosque.

I’m finding it hard to avoid the comparison to 1936, no matter how cliched. In anarchist circles, people had already begun describing the conflict in and around Syria as a “Spain 1936 moment” – it seems clear that a decisive ideological combat has been engaged. However, as in 1936, each step in the shift from rhetoric to proxy war to open war marked a closing of debate, a narrowing of ideology, and a consolidation of power. By the time World War 2 began in earnest, all the sides had settled into more or less their own forms of fascism – the start of the war marked a closing of possibility for liberatory struggle.

Within Syria, this was the government’s strategy from the beginning. The government responded to protest militarily, which meant that only a militarized opposition was possible. As conflict escalated, the possibilities steadily closed until the only roles left to be played were soldier, refugee, or victim. And the part of the opposition to the Syrian government most prepared to accept the military paradigm were the religious fascist organization such as the Islamic State/Daesh and Al-Nusra. And this was exactly what the government had anticipated – the logic of war had narrowed the field until Bashar al-Assad could reasonably look like the good guy.

The grassroots activists who started this uprising are still struggling for freedom and dignity, but their voices are largely submerged in the logic of war. Effectively, the conflict has become a struggle between rival fascisms, secular and religious, each with their different international backers.

The Kurdish regions sought to engage differently, securing their autonomy by force but not taking part in the struggle to control the state. But inevitably, the war came to them. Anarchists in North America have been increasingly interested in the Kurdish regions of Syria and Turkey, where decades of more traditional national liberation struggle against various states have given way to a new strategy of federated communities developing practical autonomy in their territories without the need to decisively engage the state. Many have described it as an anarchistic system. However, the increasingly dangerous situation in the Syrian Kurdish regions, aggravated by the actions of the Turkish and Iraqi states, has become the justification for an expanded military role of Western nations in the conflict, actions that stand to most benefit the Assad dictatorship.

And so enter Canada, with its six old fighter jets, making a symbolic stand alongside the United States and the other big boys of western power and influence.

When I talk about how the logic of war shuts down discussion, I’m not hoping for some sort of democratic ideal, the free exchange of views in the marketplace of ideas. I don’t just want to be able to go hold a “Fuck the Military” sign out in front of the armory without getting beat up. I’m talking about fascism and police states, where the logic of war enters into every part of our lives and demands we line up on the side of the nation state that claims us. What kind of response can we imagine to this?

It’s taken many of us in this area a long time to admit it, but radical momentum decreasing. The pendulum is moving away from us in its cyclical path. Many former anarchists (who may still use that word for themselves when it suits them) have already noticed this, and slipped into safer positions within the institutional left. Anarcha-lobbyists, anarcho-bureaucrats, anarchist academics. In a context of decreasing strength, can we imagine a response to the calls for a police state this isn’t further retreat?

Anarchists and other radicals here have a recent history of being arrested and charged based on “extremist” ideologies and actions not yet taken – many of us got rounded up in advance of the G20 summit in 2010. The G20 as well as the response to the massive 2012 student strike in Montreal demonstrated the state’s willingness and ability to militarize even a major city and the lengths they will go to shut us down if its convenient or necessary for them to consider us a threat. These fresh memories and our reduced capacity for confrontation explain the heaviness that settled over us as public grief seamlessly became nationalism, which then became a call for a massive increase in policing.

Anarchists had already been looking for ways to learn more about the conflict in and around Syria and had begun finding ways to offer practical solidarity to Kurdish groups that seemed to share our values. But with Canada’s material participation in the war there to support Kurdish regions, are we now simply ligning up alongside the western nations in an imperialist war? Or is there space to attack both the military intervention and the fascist groups in Syria?

In 1936, many anarchists thought there was space for a liberatory struggle within the impending clash between socialist and capitalist fascisms. Conflict flared up in Spain, and hey traveled there from all over the world to fight Franco’s avowed fascists only to find themselves attacked by the fascists who called themselves communists. Their struggle for anarchy became a foot note to the unbelievable slaughter that came after, but after Spain it was clear that none of the powers were fighting for freedom. Though of course all hypocritically claimed they were, and many chose to believe that the lesser of evils was somehow not itself evil.

The two young men who died while attacking Canadian soldiers this week had tried to travel to the middle east shortly before, and at least one of them explicitly trying to join Daesh. Fascist propaganda always contains a grain of truth, which in the case of Daesh is the reality of the history of western imperialism in the middle east in the 20th century. Western countries redrew the political map, imposed the nation-state model, propped up or toppled dictators at their whims, and perhaps most importantly supported political Zionism and the state of Israel. This grain of truth is then used to drive a romanticized historical narrative and a vision of returning to a purer way of life – for Daesh, the tried-and-true story that Muslim nations are subjugated because they are insufficiently pious and that true Muslim piety is based a specific and highly literal reading of the Qu’ran and Hadith. And finally this narrative is used to garner support for a militarized, totalitarian political project that envisions endless expansion and legitimates authoritarian rule through successful military campaigns abroad.

The Canadian state always struggles to define itself and to arouse the passions of its subjects. A country with a short history, it relies on erasing the histories of Indigenous nations and of genocide, and unlike the United States, it has no founding battle of self-definition, just a bureaucratic stroke of the pen. Canada never became a cause, much to the frustration of its political elites, although it has not yet given up on becoming one.

The media is incessantly asking what could draw good Canadian youths to Daesh’s ideology. But one could just as well ask what drew the young soldier killed in Ottawa to take up arms in defense of a genocidal, imperialist nation state. Interviews with his family show that he loved the military since he was a child, it just seemed to be in his blood they say. As despicable as it is to claim that any child is born to follow orders to kill and die, Canada is using the same kinds of narratives as Daesh to attract the same directionless, war-fetishizing young men to its cause.

The grain of truth in the Canadian propaganda is that people in Canada enjoy many social freedoms. The historical narrative is of brave explorers befriending natives (who then somehow disappeared) and who through their work and dedication, opened up the country from sea to sea to sea, and developed an enlightened nation while avoiding the excesses of the United States. The authoritarian project looks different here – it’s a trade of complicity for privilege, including the privilege to not be bothered by political matters. In times of crisis though, more is asked of us to stay on the state’s good side.

After the mosque in Cold Lake was vandalized, so-called good Canadians came, helped clean it up, and sang the national anthem outside of it. The choice being offered Canadian Muslims is clear – which side of Canadian nationalism do you want to be on? Do you want to be attacked or join us in singing the anthem? Would you rather be cheering on the jets as they leave Cold Lake, or dodging their bombs in Iraq? Will you support giving the police new powers or will you risk becoming a target?

It turns out anarchists in the Canadian territory didn’t need to travel to participate in our very own Spain 1936 – the conflict has conveniently come to us and now even to continue as we did before is to pick sides. There is no neutral position here, and the terrain is shifting rapidly.

In a time of decreasing radical energy, how do we orient ourselves within this logic of war? Between competing fascisms, can we find those with whom we share affinity on the ground in the Middle East, and would our ability to provide solidarity influence the struggle either here or there? Will organizing against new repressive measures provide opportunities for increasing struggle, or will it make us more isolated and vulnerable to repression? What kinds of support and solidarity are we interested in extending to Muslim communities that are increasingly being targeted by the state, and what opportunities could be created by building relationships there?

We have no conclusions to offer. Roads in Hamilton will be closed Tuesday for a soldier’s funeral. Two months ago, two young Muslim men were attacked and badly beaten on their way home from Friday prayer. The sign in front of City Hall displays a countdown to the start of the PanAm games, and we know the security apparatus for that event is already in full gear, looking around Hamilton for plausible threats it can use to justify its existence. Should we try to go on the offensive against the nationalist escalation, or should we take this time of diminished expectations to withdraw from confrontation and strengthen our networks? What opportunities exist in this moment? Can we find ways to refuse the logic of war and continue to struggle for anarchy?

May 122014
 

Dear comrades,

Why do you insist on organizing within or in parallel of larger demos, or given symbolic dates? Moments when not only do you know the attacks from police will come because the whole repressive apparatus will be organized, coordinated, deployed and empowered by their laws and technology, but where you will also be reminded to watch your backs for the hostile masses in the street (have you not seen yet, the masses ready to trample you under their fear?), the whole amalgam of leftists who want to maintain and manage domination alternatively, the snitches, and the paciflics* as we call them in Montreal, already setting yourself up in a kettle between cops and citizens, more so than on a normal day.

And isn’t it exactly this you seek when you speak of confrontation? Would it not be to confront and break with normality, the normality of wake, work, shit, sleep, crossed with a few fetichized days of protest? Would it not be to transcend the regularizing militant calendar of our expected moments of action? Comrades, the element of surprise is still a fierce ally.

Or is it more of a group therapy you search? To be with others, to comfort yourselves as you are not alone, and “to focus more on care, support, emotional openness”. If so then you can revel in the demo as it is nothing more than that, a group therapy within this mass alienation we call society.

We hope that you care and support each other everyday. We hope that everyday you become stronger in your embrace with loved ones, those whose hands you grasp, trusting them with your life. The demo is as much a place to find people who will care for you as is a nightclub.

Comrades, we would like to think that you too have the blazing desire, not to take the streets back, but to make them unusable. The streets are not ours, they never were and never will be, and we do not want them to be, they are part of this world of concrete and cement which keeps us locked up, keeps us from having our feet in the earth, and to see beyond. Any day, anywhere there are streets, a few loved ones suffice to find the cracks in the street from where to pull out pieces to throw back to those it belongs to.

Comrades, we wish to embrace, our fists grasping the streets burning with desire, any rotten day of misery that domination forces upon us.

*“paci” for pacifist and “flics” for cops. Used to name those hostile to, who attack, and/or try to arrest others that use confrontational tactics.

*********

Dear comrades in the streets

We organized an autonomous contingent for the Montreal COBP demo on March 15th this year. More than 40 of us met up nearby to the main demo, and had our own small demo that went for around half an hour. The police were not expecting us, and we were neither attacked nor kettled before we decided to disperse ourselves. We wrote a flyer explaining why we had organized the contingent, and encouraging others to do the same for the upcoming May 1st anti-capitalist demo. We planned to hand out this flyer to people who had gathered for the main demo, but the kettles began before we arrived. We hope things can go differently next time. No justice, no peace, see you in the streets!

The flyer:

Dear comrades in the streets,

This year for March 15th we have self-organized into an autonomous contingent within the larger demo. We would like to explain why we have done this, and encourage you to do the same for future demos, especially May 1st.

We initiated this contingent because we want to experiment with methods of more collective, organized participation in demos. We want to communicate more with each other before the demo, while it is going on, and afterwards. We want to have more capacity to take care of one another and to protect ourselves from the attacks by the police that we know will come.

If we want to engage with confrontational demos, we must organize ourselves and relate to one another in ways that allow us to work through the trauma and fear that grow out of our encounters with the police. We must figure out what it looks like in practice to focus more on care, support, emotional openness and reflexivity in our mobilization and organizing for confrontational demos. We think contingents might be a way to do this.

By forming into contingents outside of the main meetup location for the demo, such as in our neighborhoods, we decentralize the demo formation process and make it harder for the police to disrupt us before we have even started. By decentralizing some of the decision-making capacities of the demo into autonomously organized contingents, we make it harder to disperse the demo.

Finally, and most importantly, by organizing to support one another, we hope to provide a basis for more people to feel able to participate in confrontational demos, and more confidence for all of us to be combative in all the ways that we know are necessary.
We started this contingent by calling up our friends who we thought might want to go to this demo with us. We met up a few times and talked a whole lot. Think that sounds fun? We encourage everyone to find their friends and neighbors and organize contingents for May 1st!

Sep 242013
 

From Crimethinc

This is the final installment in our “After the Crest” series exploring how to navigate the waning phase of social movements. It is a personal reflection on anarchist participation in the 2012 student strike in Montréal and the disruptions that accompanied it. The product of much collective discussion, this article explores the opportunities anarchists missed during the high point of the conflict by limiting themselves to the framework of the strike, and the risks they incurred by attempting to maintain it once it had entered a reformist endgame.

For a narrative account of many of the events discussed in this text, read While the Iron Is Hot: Student Strike and Social Revolt in Montréal, Spring 2012.

Timeline

February 13, 2012. After many months of ultimatums to the government, mobilization on university and cégep campuses, and occasional actions and demonstrations, the student strike officially begins with a few departments at Université Laval in Québec City. From there, it spreads rapidly. Spring has come early.

February 16. The student association of Cégep du Vieux Montréal votes to go on strike; the school is occupied. Late in the night, police enter the school and break up the occupation.

March 15. After weeks of escalating violence on the part of the police, including an incident in which a cégep student lost his eye to a concussion grenade, the COBP’s annual demonstration against police brutality begins at Berri Square; the crowd that gathers is significantly larger than at any other time in the history of the event, and a night riot ensues. Although many participants escape, over 226 are arrested.

March 22. The largest demonstration of the strike thus far is an ultimatum from the Coalition large de l’Association pour une solidarité syndicale étudiante (CLASSE) to the Liberal government in Québec City: repeal your planned tuition hike, or we will begin a campaign of economic disruption. Although actions to this effect had already been taking place in Montréal, from this point on, they to begin to occur more frequently and with more ambitious objectives.

April 20. The Salon Plan Nord, a job fair, takes place at the Palais des congrès. Jean Charest is there to deliver a speech about his government’s plan for the accelerated development of Québec’s portion of the Labrador Peninsula—land which is still inhabited, for the most part, by indigenous people determined to live as sovereign, autonomous nations. The single largest street battle of the strike unfolds, paralyzing a large section of downtown for hours and capturing international headlines. For the first time in the strike, cops flee demonstrators. Its significance is immediately apparent to anarchists. Yet no one can predict how intense things will get.

May 4. A truce between the students and the government has come and gone. Angry night demonstrations have taken the streets, then been pacified; morning blockades of highways, skyscrapers, and other targets have ceased altogether. People have barely caught their breath from the largest anti-capitalist May Day demonstration in recent memory. And now buses from across the province are unloading militants of all sorts in the small town of Victoriaville; the goal is to disrupt the Liberal Party convention that was scheduled to take place at a Montréal hotel, then hastily transplanted to the countryside. The clash between demonstrators and the Sûreté du Québec police force is brutal; people on both sides are badly injured, but the red squares get the worst of it. Another person loses an eye; still another is put into a coma. Things don’t feel as good as they did two weeks prior.

May 10. The streets of Montréal have been peaceful for a few days, but this morning, smoke bombs go off in four métro stations across the city; the whole system is shut down for hours. Thanks to a good citizen with a cellphone, the Service de police de la Ville de Montréal (SPVM) releases pictures of some suspects on its website the same day, and four people surrender at a police station soon thereafter.

May 18. Two new laws come into effect at midnight, both of which restrict the ability of participants in the strike movement to act. The night demonstrations turn confrontational again around this time, but despite heroic efforts against the police, the movement is unable to assert itself in the streets as effectively as it did a month earlier. That said, more people are participating than ever before. Spontaneous demonstrations begin in neighborhoods across Montréal, helping new neighborhood assemblies to take off.

June 7. The Canadian Grand Prix begins with a rich bastards’ gala. Militants fail to disrupt it, but over the next few days, despite a seriously compromised rapport de force with the police, they succeed in disrupting Montréal’s most important tourist event of the summer. Many inspiring things happen; yet it is clear that the movement is on the decline.

August 1. Confirming what people have suspected for weeks, the premier calls a general election for September 4. The Parti Québécois asks the movement to agree to an “electoral truce.”

August 13. Classes at some cégeps are scheduled to begin. School authorities, however, shut down classes so that anti-strike students can attend general assemblies on the matter of continuing the strike. Of the four cégeps voting on this matter, three vote to end the strike; they join schools that had voted similarly in the days prior. Except for a few departments at UQÀM, the strike collapses almost entirely over the next few weeks—though demonstrations continue, sometimes turning confrontational.

September 4. When the votes are counted, the PQ has won a majority in the National Assembly. The tuition hike is canceled by decree a few days later. Some call it victory.

Foreseeing Events

Anarchists should hone our skills at anticipating social upheavals.[1]

Sometimes, such events can be seen coming far in advance, offering us the chance to prepare in order to surpass the limitations of the organizations, discourse, and default tactics that are likely to characterize them. That was the case in Montréal in the summer of 2011, by which time it was perfectly clear that a student strike was on the way. By the middle of summer, it was widely known that the major student federations, ASSÉ, FÉCQ, and FÉUQ, were collaborating for a massive demonstration on November 10. This demonstration was conceived as presenting the Liberal government with an ultimatum before the movement resorted to an unlimited general strike. Earlier in 2011, the occupation of the capitol building in Madison, Wisconsin, had taken me and many other anarchists across the continent by surprise. In Montréal, on the other hand, we had advance warning of things to come; it was clear to some of us that we could make strategic use of this knowledge.

A correct analysis of any situation, combined with reflection on one’s own objectives, should suggest a strategy with which to proceed.[2] But how do we refine our analytical skills? I don’t want to reduce this to experience; plenty of “veterans” analyze situations badly, routinely making the same mistakes. In Montréal, that camp includes those who fetishize direct democracy, certain types of collective process, and the global justice movement that peaked here in the mobilization against the 2001 Summit of the Americas in Québec City. Québécois insurrectionists tend to dismiss that crowd—perhaps too hastily—as being attached to a romanticized notion of anti-capitalist struggle in Montréal at the turn of the millennium. And yet older insurrectionists are also guilty of using the same tactics that they’ve been using for years, often with no better sense of the political context than the younger people they are lecturing.

Rather than deferring to age and experience, we can sharpen our analytical skills through discussion groups, general assemblies oriented towards communication as an end in itself, and more writing, theorizing, and critique. These are the processes that enable a crew, a community, or a distributed network of subversives to gain mutual understanding and refine their analyses in order to speak precisely about what is happening, what must be done, and—most importantly—how to do it. It is essential to find the time and space to do this with people you trust, whose analysis you also trust, and ideally who come from a range of backgrounds and experience.

This isn’t a recipe for success. The future can’t be foreseen with total accuracy. But things sometimes play out in similar ways over and over again. There are patterns we can identify. We have a better chance of finding them if many of us are looking, and even better if we disagree on some things and draw on different knowledge.

If anarchists don’t improve our ability to foresee events, we will keep repeating two grievous mistakes. First, we won’t know when it’s time for us to throw ourselves into a struggle with everything we’ve got—when the risks are worth the possible consequences. Alas, many anarchists in Montréal waited until far later than would have been ideal to get involved in the student strike. Second, we won’t recognize when we should withdraw because the movement is headed toward a catastrophe that will hurt us—as the events of August 2012 did, at the end of the strike.

Once the school year started, some anglophone anarchists from outside the university, or who were students but who mostly organized outside of student spaces, made a concerted effort to insert themselves and anarchist ideas in general into student organizing at McGill and Concordia. This was sometimes as sloppy and disorganized as the individual anarchists involved. But that didn’t matter; what mattered was consistency. Local anarchists’ distribution of certain texts at McGill, such as After the Fall and “Communiqué from an Absent Future,” probably contributed significantly to the occupations that occurred on McGill campus during the 2011–12 school year, both before the strike even started.

Many of the texts distributed were written in inaccessible insurrectionist jargon; anarchists often came off as total wingnuts. But the point was not to appeal to the masses. It was to make connections with specific people who would be participating in the strike when it began— a process that was developed further by inviting people to events at La Belle Époque, the newly-opened anarchist social center in the Southwest, or just by hanging out. This, in turn, encouraged those people to expand the discourse of the strike to other areas: struggle in defense of the Earth, against the police, against racism and colonialism, and so on.

Student militants at the Université du Québec à Montréal (UQÀM) and Cégep du Vieux Montréal had been organizing for much longer. These two schools, from which other strikes had historically emerged, were also the source of most of the momentum for the 2012 strike. Although both schools already had a strong radical presence, political graffiti within certain buildings was ramped up in the years before the strike. Occupations and demonstrations were organized. In early 2011, Hydro-Québec’s downtown headquarters was smoke-bombed by students from Vieux, forcing an evacuation. There was also a lot of work behind the scenes—distributing propaganda, organizing informative assemblies, and the like. Syndicalist anarchists participated actively in their student associations and in the Association pour une solidarité syndicale étudiante (ASSÉ); this meant office work, balancing finances, writing articles for ASSÉ’s newspaper Ultimatum or for individual associations’ broadsheets, and a lot of organizing limited by the discourse of the official student movement. Some anarchists have been critical of this approach, but there’s no question that anarchists on the whole benefited from the fact that some people were doing this.

Syndicalist methods created the strike; it could be argued that they also created the limitations that would ultimately produce the movement’s downfall. A point that is sometimes missed, however, is that every social upheaval will have built-in limitations, and there isn’t even a chance to overcome those limitations until the upheaval exists as a material reality. Despite the tensions that existed between various anti-capitalist and pro-strike factions at Cégep du Vieux and UQÀM, it is clear that the lowest-common-denominator mobilization approach of creating opposition to the tuition hike complemented direct action, if only by fostering a political environment in which other students could understand why “the issues” were serious enough that some people would take such action.


“Fuck fascists, therefore fuck the administration.”
Graffiti at Cégep du Vieux Montréal before the strike.

Crises create opportunities. This is perhaps the most important maxim for anyone who wants to defend land, freedom, and dignity against the ravages of capitalism. In this context, it is problematic that many anarchists, in the years before the strike, were willfully ignorant of the political machinations that produced the flashpoint of the strike. It took a long time for anarchists who had been following the developments to convince their comrades of the importance of the impending events.

Of course, given the right circumstances and skill sets, we can generate crises ourselves. This is exactly what some anarchists, upon finding themselves as students at institutions with a tradition of direct democracy and a history of strike-making, proceeded to do in the years leading up to 2012—just as other anarchists had done in the years leading up to 2005 and earlier strikes.

Anglophone anarchists in Montréal—many of whom grew up in other provinces or in the US, whose French is marginal at best, often possessed of rather few francophone friends, frequently either university dropouts or enrolled at schools with less interesting political cultures—were usually not as disposed to help produce a crisis. This was also true of older anarchists, those with jobs, or those on welfare and genuinely poor; in essence, non-student anarchists of all language backgrounds. But, though anarchists from certain social positions may not have been able to contribute as much to making the strike happen, there was plenty for those people to do to improve their capacity to participate in the strike once it began.

The most important thing is consistency—doing what you can from where you are. It doesn’t matter how limited your abilities or social position are. If you don’t drop the ball, you’ll eventually get a chance to shoot.

If you don’t drop the ball,
you’ll eventually get a chance to shoot.

Seizing the Peak of Opportunity

Though some prepared for the strike itself, few did anything to prepare for the situation that arose from it: the peak of opportunity.

There were two such periods, actually. One started on April 20, 2012, with the protests against the Plan Nord conference, during which it became clear that the police were temporarily outmatched, and lasted until May 4, when it degenerated into more brutal and less inspiring violence at the Liberal Party convention in Victoriaville. This was a period when so much could have been done, and yet many insurrecto-hooligans contented themselves with mere rioting—as exciting as that may have been. Soon enough, it was no longer fun. It wasn’t just random unfortunates with presumably little street experience who were getting arrested and injured, but ourselves and our friends as well. This is all the worse because almost anything could have happened in Montréal at that time if people had been able to step back from the whirlwind of events, gather their comrades, identify an objective, and act.


Friday, April 20 – inside the Palais des congrès.


Wednesday, April 25 – central downtown.


Tuesday, May 1 – central downtown.


Friday, May 4 – outskirts of Victo.

In point of fact, it seems this did happen, but perhaps too late. On May 10, the most effective sabotage of the Montréal métro to date took place, with smoke bombs going off at four different stations across the city. If such an act had occurred during a large demonstration or riot in downtown Montréal, it could have created an even more uncontrollable situation across the island—perhaps opening new windows of opportunity for anarchists and others to seize territory or go on the offensive. By May 10, however, an uneasy peace had taken hold in Québec with the pacification of the night demonstrations and the passing of the last spectacular clashes during daylight hours, May Day and the Battle of Victo. In this context, the smoke bombing incident appeared as a daring attempt to reignite conflict, not as a conscious effort to expand its scope at the height of things.

The period that started on April 20 was not a revolutionary moment, but perhaps only because no one proposed, via words or action, to take the logical step from mass vandalism to the collective expropriation of goods and seizure of buildings—the kind of activity that would have quickly brought out even larger crowds than were already participating in the strike. Things might have gotten a little nasty after that, no doubt, especially given the lengths to which the state is willing to go to uphold the institution of private property. But had things escalated to this point, the revolutionary potential of the situation would have become apparent to everyone.

There was a second peak of opportunity a few weeks later, and it too was squandered.

To be clear, the opportunities that this second peak presented were not produced by militants’ capacity to maintain a rapport de force with the police. On the nights immediately before and after the government passed its Special Law to crack down on the strike, there were major street battles that lasted long into the night, probably involving the largest numbers of any post-sundown street action and certainly producing the largest mass arrests. But while many experienced these clashes as inspiring, including many out-of-town anarchists who had shown up for the anarchist book fair, the battles proved ephemeral. They were the final and most spectacular clashes of a movement that was rapidly losing the capacity to go toe-to-toe with the police that it had gained in the early months of the strike, and particularly between March 22 and May 4.

New opportunities were produced, though, by the expansion of anti-government sentiment to parts of society that hadn’t previously been involved in the strike. Suddenly, there were small roving demonstrations in neighborhoods across the city and in cities across the province. A sizeable number of these people were said to have supported the tuition hike, but fundamentally objected to the government’s “anti-democratic” means of defending the capitalist economy and its monopoly on violence. The numbers also grew downtown; the demonstration on May 22 may have had as many as 400,000 people.


A demonstration in the neighborhood of Saint-Henri on Thursday, May 24.

This opened up a moment akin to the Occupy moment in other places.[3] What happened is that people with radically different ideas were meeting in the streets, vaguely united by their opposition to how things were going in their society. Perhaps they were excited by the energy of the moment; perhaps they were open to challenging preconceived notions about how things should be, and how to get there.

This didn’t happen on the scale that it could have. Many anarchists cited the shortcomings of the casserole demos and the neighborhood assemblies to justify not engaging with them. Of course, there were shortcomings; that’s to be expected whenever people more familiar with obedience to authority suddenly opt for defiance. Their strategies, rhetoric, analysis, and even attitudes weren’t always ideal from an ideologically purist anarchist perspective. But this was as true of those who fought in the streets—including those young and patriotic Québécois men who saw their combat with the police as a continuation of the FLQ’s hypermasculine methodology—as it was of those who opted to bang pots and pans or to participate in the “popular neighborhood assemblies” that had, in many cases, devolved after a few weeks into hangout spaces for all the local weirdos interested in radical politics.


A popular assembly in the Plateau on June 10.

The important thing here is that the confrontations of the book fair weekend marked the point when street fighting downtown started to deliver diminishing returns, in terms of its ability to disrupt the capitalist economy and improve the movement’s rapport de force with the government. At that point, it was probably more feasible to broaden the disturbances than to escalate the ones already taking place.

Both peaks of opportunity, starting on April 20 and May 18 respectively, involved peak numbers of people engaging in particular activities—either the specific activity of fighting the police during the first peak, or the general activity of participating in the strike movement during the second. These were our chance to reach out to all the people whose political analyses, experiences, or backgrounds were different from ours. Most of them knew what they were there to do. If anarchists had articulated to others a method of how to do it while also encouraging people to go farther, it’s possible that the movement could have reached still higher peaks.

Quit While You’re Ahead

The strike didn’t die over the course of the summer. It stagnated.

After the Grand Prix, the demonstrations and meetings continued—quite a lot, in fact, albeit less than during the spring. June 22 and July 22 saw tens of thousands of people come out; not a single night demonstration failed to take the streets. There was a bit of a ruckus in Burlington, Vermont, when premiers and governors in the northeastern part of the continent met there at the end of July. Plans were drawn up for a convergence for the rentrée (the return to classes and the recommencement of the suspended semester) in August, starting first at cégeps and then moving on to universities.

All of this happened, yet none of it materially improved the strike’s prospects for defending itself, particularly in the face of an election campaign—one of the most effective tactics democratic states have at their disposal to shut down social movements. It had been suspected for weeks, then essentially confirmed in the days immediately prior, but Jean Charest, the premier, made the official announcement on August 1.


Incidentally, August 1 also marked the hundredth night demonstration
in a row since April 24.

The Parti Québécois offered a deal to the movement: settle down a bit, we’ll win this election, and then we’ll suspend the hike. It was argued, not unreasonably, that disruptive activity could hurt the PQ’s chances of beating the incumbent Liberals. Consequently, pacifist vigilantes stepped up their efforts to interfere with confrontational tactics at the night demonstrations, and the cégeps unanimously voted against the continuation of the strike. The strike did continue in some departments at UQÀM, but the effect was marginal, and efforts to enforce a shutdown of classes were undermined by scabs, security, and police.

Anarchists had taken many risks and suffered severe consequences in their efforts to strengthen and embolden the movement as a whole. Many had already been beaten and arrested, and faced charges and uncertain futures. More than any other political tendency involved in the strike, anarchists were the ones who escalated the situation to the point that Jean Charest was forced to call an early election to end the crisis. Yet despite our best efforts, we had become foot soldiers for a movement that had always had a nationalist, social-democratic, and reformist character. Now this movement no longer needed us to win its unimaginative and ultimately shortsighted baseline objective: the cancellation of this specific tuition hike. It became difficult to avoid the conclusion that we had been used. Many of us felt, perhaps irrationally, that our efforts over the past few months had been utterly in vain. We told ourselves that we had gained experience, friends, and so on, that we had been part of something “historic,” but this sort of positive rhetoric failed to improve morale. In some cases, it just made things worse.

Since the strike’s end, many anarchists have argued that we failed to apply the right tactics to the situation. What could we have done differently? What would have produced a greater success for us in August?

But this line of critique may miss the mark. Perhaps we should step back and ask whether it was strategic for anarchists to try to revive the strike after militancy had withered over the summer. At the time, everyone embraced the “common sense” assumption that the top priority was to keep the strike alive. Hindsight is 20/20, but the negative consequences of that approach should have been predictable.

Maybe, instead, we should have just gotten out of there.

Now, I am not proposing that we should have withdrawn all support from the strike, but that we should have withdrawn some forms of support, especially the ones that involved considerable personal risk. Anarchists had previously proven capable of this. Many anarchists withdrew at the right time during the occupation of Cégep du Vieux Montréal and the night riot of March 15. In doing so, they left less experienced participants to face their fate alone—resulting in mass arrests in both cases. This was a little callous, no doubt; but during both events, anarchists made a point of offering advice to people who were making some pretty questionable decisions about how to conduct themselves. Anarchists eventually—and in my opinion, correctly—decided to take care of themselves once it was clear that things were about to get ugly and that their suggestions were falling on deaf ears. And in the aftermath, anarchists organized support for those arrested.

Regarding the strike as a whole, getting out wouldn’t mean, for example, anarchists suddenly abandoning their critical support of the idea of free education. A common denominator position among anarchists in Québec, from syndicalists to anti-civ nihilist types, is that Québec’s privileged proletariat deserves the nice things in life—like a useless liberal arts education—at least as much as Québec’s even more privileged ruling class. To say it differently: “If capitalism, then at least welfare capitalism.”

Making a strategic exit wouldn’t have stopped anarchists from intervening where it made sense to do so, either—but it would have meant that anarchists ceased helping the student movement whenever it stumbled, talking confidence into it whenever it hesitated, and trying to knock some sense into it whenever it was about to go in a stupid direction. In many ways, anarchists related to the student movement the way you might relate to a partner—in this case, an overly dependent partner who was not very appreciative of the help we often offered him unconditionally, sometimes was downright emotionally abusive, and really, do we even like this guy that much?

But anarchists often lack self-confidence. Sometimes we don’t know when it’s time to cut our losses and move on. We were under the impression that we needed the strike to go on in order to continue building up our own power. Yes, we had invested a lot in the movement, and it would have felt wrong just to pull out and let it do its own thing—which, no doubt, would have left us shaking our heads in exasperation. But was it really a good idea to invest even more in it when things were evidently headed in an ugly direction?

Our efforts to revive the movement did a lot to hurt the momentum that anarchists in Montréal had been building, in stops and starts, for years—since long before the strike. This set us up for disappointment and depression, needlessly demoralizing and demobilizing us. The problem was that we were pursuing a grossly unrealistic objective. The option of continuing the strike, especially given the general decline in confrontational activity during the early part of the summer, simply could not compete with the option of electoral compromise with the PQ. Democratic ideas have significantly greater sway in the student movement and among the general population than anarchist ideas. As unfortunate as this is, we should recognize this and act accordingly.

Missed Opportunities

The worst thing about the decision to prioritize continuing the strike was that, at that point, there were plenty more interesting and worthwhile paths open. For example, we could have focused on resisting and counteracting state repression. Repression had affected anarchists the most severely, but it also affected revolutionaries from other tendencies—most significantly Maoists—as well as many people who had simply been caught up in the energy of the strike and received criminal charges as a result.


“The strike continues on August 13!” Many militants suffered from tunnel vision in August, doing what they could to prove this poster true— but at a heavy cost for other fronts of the struggle.

During the spring, anarchists organized some powerful noise demonstrations, and there were also actions at Montréal’s courthouse, the Palais de justice. After the strike was over, in fall 2012, a large and spirited demonstration took to the streets in solidarity with everyone facing charges, living with restrictive conditions, or otherwise suffering as a result of things they had been accused of doing during the strike. Various texts appeared on this topic, as well. Yet at the end of the summer, during the period of the election and the rentrée, there was no organizing to speak of on that front.

The only thing anarchists did collectively in August, besides attempting to stop the rentrée, was to campaign against representative democracy itself. This could have been a promising terrain of struggle, but almost everyone involved was also wrapped up in the losing battle of continuing the strike. Things didn’t turn out well on either front—but even more importantly, both undertakings were posited by the anarchists involved as being in solidarity with the student movement, when it was precisely the student movement that was facilitating the isolation and repression of anarchists by abandoning the strike.

In other words, the student movement was acting contrary to the principle of solidarity. And by buying into the PQ’s proposal for an “electoral” truce, the student movement sabotaged its own most basic objective, with the PQ ultimately implementing indexation rather than a true tuition freeze.

As a side point, it’s both facile and inaccurate to blame movement leaders and politicians for this turn of events. The strike was voted down in directly democratic assemblies. No matter how loud and influential certain individuals were, it was the students as a whole who chose to abandon the strike.

The hopeless attempt to save the student movement from itself took away from the effectiveness of anarchists’ anti-democratic campaign. It was basically the same people doing everything, and they didn’t have the energy to do everything; their energies were split between appealing to students to keep the strike going, and appealing to society at large not to vote.


“The elections… We don’t give a fuck! We don’t vote; we struggle.”

Anarchists saw these as identical, which was a poor understanding of the social reality. For one thing, there was the statist, reformist, pro-voting stance of the majority of the student movement’s participants—but do we really need to beat that particular dead horse any longer?

Meanwhile, a lot of people living in Montréal have a difficult time simply surviving because of the neighborhood they live in, the color of their skin, their lack of citizenship or status, or their accent in French—if they can speak it at all. There’s no doubt that plenty of marginalized folks were down with at least certain aspects of the student movement. But neither is there any doubt that most of them had only limited interest in the self-centered struggle of a bunch of privileged brats who, broadly speaking, did not reciprocate by concerning themselves with the more dire struggles of migrants, indigenous people, and others.[4]

Now, I’m not saying you need to take off your red square if you want to start talking to such people about the moral bankruptcy of democracy. But maybe the fact that the PQ is going to sell out the movement shouldn’t be the center of your analysis if you want to address people who aren’t particularly invested in the movement. All the adamant social democrats to whom anarchists’ analysis of the situation might have been useful—given that they were legitimately seeking a freeze, not indexation—were completely unwilling to listen to anarchists during election time. That was their mistake. But our mistake was to keep trying to get through to the social democrats rather than reaching out to others who might have been a little more open had we been less alienating.

It’s hard to imagine that the results could have been worse than what actually happened if, instead of trying to engage students and other participants or supporters of the movement with anti-electoral ideas, anarchists had used the same time and energy to advance a critique of Québécois democracy by other means. Sure, I’m skeptical that dropping a banner emblazoned with the words NEVER VOTE! NEVER SURRENDER! À BAS LA SOCIÉTÉ-PRISON «DÉMOCRATIQUE!» from a train bridge in a neighborhood full of francophone pensioners, then failing to publicize that this even happened, is the best use of anyone’s time. But as confusing, poorly contextualized, and silly as that might be, at least it speaks for itself without centralizing the students’ struggle to preserve their privileged position in society.

It’s interesting to think about what other projects anarchists could have undertaken, unencumbered by the student movement. What if anarchists, in neighborhood assemblies or more informally, had pushed a struggle against gentrification and manifestations of capitalism in the areas where we actually live, while police resources were tied up watching night demonstrations and maintaining order downtown? In other words—what if we had taken advantage of the political situation to improve our own long-term material position, rather than improving the rapport de force between the government and the students?

We also could have done more to usurp the megaphone, both literally and figuratively. This happened earlier in the strike: on the night of March 7, after a demonstrator lost his eye to an SPVM grenade, anarchists shouted down a few self-appointed leaders’ appeals for people to express their outrage peacefully, successfully convincing the majority of the crowd to stop standing around in Berri Square and either physically confront the police or at least defy their commands to disperse. There were attacks on two different police stations that night, the first such actions of the strike.

In August, as on March 7, there were crowds of outraged people, but this time, they weren’t outraged about police violence. Instead, as an outvoted minority, they were upset by their fellow students’ decision to abandon the strike. The situation was a bit different: to go the fighting route would have meant ignoring the final verdict of a directly democratic vote, not just a few people with megaphones. In retrospect, it’s not clear how many people would ever have been willing to do that, given that the authority of such a vote is almost universally accepted in the galaxy of Québécois student politics. But alas, it seems that, in the aftermath of those disastrous student assemblies, there was no one even able to bring up the idea to the hardly insignificant number of militants (student and otherwise) suddenly bereft of previous months’ democratic justification for continuing the fight.

Pursuing a hard line against nationalists and their discourse would also have divided and weakened the movement, but it would have publicized anarchists’ position on the Parti Québécois in clear terms. It would have offered an opportunity to call out their racist Muslim baiting in pursuit of the xenophobe vote, and their noxious valorization of French colonization on this continent. Had harsh critiques of CLASSE and/or ASSÉ come out when the strike was still in motion, rather than months later, this would also have divided the movement, albeit instructively. But if the movement is going to lose anyway, why not divide it?

It was clear after a certain point in August, if not earlier, that things were rapidly coming to a close. This was an inevitable result of the efforts of nationalists, social democrats, and others who had always been pursuing a conflicting agenda. Revolutionary struggle can be an ugly business, and there are times when it makes sense for us to hold our noses and work with people whose politics we consider objectionable. We should never attack or alienate those we dislike for no good reason. But, at the end of the strike, the benefits of making an open break were clear.

This is particularly important in light of the student movement’s unforgivable failure to support those who were facing judicially imposed conditions including exile from the Island of Montréal, non-association with friends or lovers, and the possibility of serious jail time in the future. It doesn’t matter whether the accused did what the state charged them with; the point is that illegal activity was essential to whatever success the strike had, and letting anyone suffer because the state pinned some of that activity on them sets a bad precedent for strikes to come. That’s the strategic argument, anyway—the ethical one should be obvious.


“The laws of the state and the batons of the police will not stop our revolt. Solidarity with those who face repression for their participation in the struggle!” This poster was wheatpasted widely in certain neighborhoods after the strike was over.

In short, anarchists could have done many things other than what we did do, which was to stay at the core of the movement. It was already clear by the weekend of the Grand Prix that the movement was on its way out; the events of June and July (or the lack thereof) confirmed this. Yet anarchists continued participating in general assemblies and committee meetings; to be precise, anarchists either returned to those spaces after having left them, or came to them for the very first time during the whole strike. This was done out of a mistaken belief that it was necessary to do so, that the struggle depended on the revival of the strike.

Depression and Demobilization

The end of the strike was marked by a pronounced failure to address the widespread phenomenon of post-strike depression. We might better identify this as post-uprising depression, common anywhere that has experienced sustained periods of social rupture.

Many windows opened during the strike, but now we find ourselves “between strikes,” as some people say here, which is to say in a period of demobilization. Compared to the spring of 2012, it feels unusually difficult to pull off even the simplest things.

Depression is an understandable but unfortunate response to the end of the strike. It’s useless, and a little cruel, to tell people that they shouldn’t feel sad about something that is an objectively depressing turn of events from an anarchist adventurist’s standpoint. Like any period of social rupture, the strike offered an exciting and dangerous context, presenting challenges to anyone caught up in it. To be sure, not everyone wants excitement, danger, or inconvenience. Many people would prefer to drive down rue Sainte-Catherine without worrying about giant demonstrations, or go to school without running into hard pickets, or take the métro without fear of a smoke bomb attack or bags of bricks on the rails. In contrast, the kind of person who’s going to become—and remain—an active, attack-oriented anarchist probably thrives on that sort of thing.

This is adventurism: the sin of actually enjoying the struggles we participate in. We may not all like the same things, or be capable of the same types of action, but our common thread—regardless of divergent physical ability, tactical preferences, skill sets, resources, and social privileges—is that we are fighters. The restoration of social peace deprives us of something we need. This peace is an illusion, and the social war continues, but it’s harder to position ourselves offensively when it’s no longer playing out in the streets every day and night—when thousands of people no longer see themselves as participants, having returned to the old routines of work or school or skid life.

There are lots of different ways to cope with depression. Hedonism is one way; after the strike ended, there was a heavy turn in some circles towards alcohol consumption, drug use, and hardcore partying. Another way is to switch gears entirely: some left town or put all of their energy into single-issue organizing, while others threw themselves back into school or art or earning money. Some of these means of coping were healthier than others. But as a whole, they all contributed to isolating people from one another and atomizing the struggle.

It was worse for the sizeable number of anarchists who stuck it out longer, trying to do exactly what they had been doing a few months earlier: going to demonstrations, mobilizing people for them, trying to hype people up and “make things happen.” After the electoral victory of the PQ, this simply didn’t work anymore. The problem wasn’t just that many anarchists had quit the strike by that time (although that certainly did have an impact). The problem was that anarchists in Montréal didn’t quit collectively. Instead, we quit one at a time, and often only once we had reached a maximum of exhaustion, a low of misery, or both.

Of course, it’s a stretch to speak of anarchists in Montréal doing anything in a coordinated way. There are simply too many organizations, nodes, social scenes, and affinity groups—each of which has its own distinct goals, outlook, and capacity. But none of these groups withdrew explicitly from the strike. Formal anarchist organizations in the city, except for a few propaganda outfits into heavy theory, had never fully engaged themselves in the strike as organizations.[5] It was individuals, usually working with others on the basis of friendship, who made the decision whether to drop out. The informal associations of people who worked closely together during the strike never met to discuss what people could do together as the strike was winding down. Consequently, these associations mostly evaporated with the strike.

There were many intentional discussions in June and July, announced ahead of time through social media and listservs, but most of these were focused on “the tasks at hand”—blocking the upcoming rentrée and continuing the strike. In my own circles, there was never time or space to talk about how people felt about the situation as a whole, how they felt about their own personal situations, or what they hoped to get out of continuing to engage with the strike. Nor were there many discussions between people who felt political affinity with one another, or who cared about maintaining positive relationships with one another more than they cared about abstract political objectives.

During the spring, we shared some incredible moments together. We flipped over police cars, partied in the streets, forced cops to run for their lives, painted the halls of university buildings according to our tastes, made out with strangers during street parties that became riots, and generally lived life to the fullest. It wasn’t all good, but the parts that were good were really good. Over the summer, like many other people, I made the mistake of attributing all that to the strike, rather than to the specific people who were in the streets acting to create those moments. The strike created the context in which those people were able to act together: it brought large numbers into the streets, it facilitated us running into each other over and over again, it frustrated and overwhelmed the forces that defend the capitalist economy.

But the strike had no agency of its own. It was itself the product of human agency—and by no means only the agency of anarchists. Although we were an influential minority in some regards, such as determining how confrontational the demonstrations were, we were not actually that important. Another influential minority consisted of careerist student politicians who were able to influence other aspects of the strike, like which images and narratives of the strike were broadcast on television and blogspace, much more effectively than we could.

Anarchists needn’t have been depressed by the end of the strike. This isn’t a macho admonishment that people shouldn’t let their feelings get the best of them; I don’t think the answer is for us to become coldly rational revolutionaries who move in a Terminator-like linear fashion towards our objectives. We are emotional creatures, and that is for the best. My criticism is that we staked our morale, our passion to fight, on the wrong thing: not on the health of the relationships of people seeking to be dangerous together, but on the health of the strike as a force that could interrupt capitalist law and order—which many of the people who created the strike never saw as a goal in itself, but only as a temporary means to a reformist goal.

As the strike was winding down, I should have dedicated more time to making connections with all those potential friends. There was one demonstration in August that I knew would be boring, but I went anyway. I saw someone there I’d seen a dozen times since February. He recognized me, too, and made a reference to the sort of thing we should have been doing. I laughed, but I didn’t keep talking—even though that was the last chance I’d see him. I should have introduced myself, tried to exchange contact information, and passed on an invitation to get together at La Belle Époque. It was my last chance to do that.

As for the people with whom I was closest during the strike—partners in the street, fellow writers of timely propaganda, and other co-conspirators—these were the people with whom I should have been discussing what would come after the strike. What did our experiences together during those months mean? As the larger movement fell apart, could that history of working together transform into something else?

But relationships between specific people were not prioritized at the end of the strike. Instead, we prioritized relationships to masses—which, it turns out, are much more easily seduced by politicians than by people like us.

Legacy

It took a few months after the election for things to pick up again—but they did. Struggle in Montréal can cycle quickly from highs to lows and back again. February of 2013 saw demonstrations first against the Salon des Ressources Naturelles, a reprise of the previous year’s Salon Plan Nord, then a major mobilization to oppose the PQ’s Summit on Higher Education, at which the new governing party confirmed that, rather than freezing tuition, they would index it to inflation and the cost of living. This was not a broken promise on their part; it had been part of their election platform.


SPVM forces move south along rue Berri on February 26, 2013.


Banner drop, March 5, 2013: “We demand not a free university but a free society. A free university in the midst of a capitalist society is like a reading room in a prison.”


Banner leading the march, March 5, 2013: “The social peace is behind us.”

The next month started off promisingly, with the night demonstration on Tuesday, March 5, getting a little rowdy near the Palais des congrès. Yet that was the end of this second cycle. On March 12, another night demonstration—albeit much smaller—was crushed before it even left Berri Square. On March 15, the SPVM, with the assistance of the SQ, crushed Montréal’s annual anti-police demonstration decisively. From that point on, all but one of the unpermitted demonstrations[6] that marched through downtown during the spring of 2013 were kettled and dispersed before they could become disruptive.


The police attacked the COBP demonstration on March 15, 2013 before the march was even scheduled to begin.

On the municipal, the provincial, and the federal level, the state has taken measures to prevent any reprise of spring 2012, passing laws to restrict or criminalize the essential elements of militant protest. The most ominous of these measures is Bill C–309, which finally became law on June 19, 2013. Applicable across the entire territory of the Canadian federation, it gives courts the ability to issue a prison sentence of up to ten years if a person is convicted of wearing a mask in the course of criminal activity during a demonstration. The simple fact of being present in an illegal demonstration can be considered criminal in itself.

Of course, actual police tactics are ultimately more important than codes and ordinances. The SPVM have evidently taken time to analyze the events of last spring, identifying their errors, drawing lessons, updating their old techniques, learning new ones, upgrading their equipment, and training officers. The results are plain to see.

In Québécois student politics, the reformist federations FÉUQ and FÉCQ have seen their influence reduced significantly, whereas the more radical ASSÉ (the kernel around which the now defunct CLASSE was formed) has more student associations affiliated with it than ever before. This is good for us, if only because ASSÉ’s direct democracy creates spaces in which it is harder to shut people up—and anarchists are precisely the kind of people that social-democratic politicos usually want to silence.

At the same time, ASSÉ is now disorganized and largely dysfunctional. The members who possessed revolutionary aspirations and the strategic ideas to match have largely abandoned the organization. There is good reason to think that, just as after the 2005 strike, it will take years before the organization is once again capable of mounting an effective challenge to the government. Whether or not anarchists choose to participate in that struggle (and some surely will, even if others don’t), it shouldn’t be taken for granted that the next social major upheaval in Québec will arise from the student movement.

Indeed, in the wake of 2012’s uprising, we should reconsider the strategies that have worked for us in the past. This is certainly true for all those who, in one way or another, sought to defend “the Québec model” over the course of the strike: the most significant student strike in Québec’s history, by just about any measure, didn’t even realize its most basic demand. For anarchists fighting in this province—and anyone else who would willfully jeopardize the comforts of welfare capitalism for half a chance at revolution and real freedom—it is incumbent upon us to determine how we should proceed towards our objectives, or live our politics, or both, in what is now a very uncertain political environment.

I will conclude with just a few concrete suggestions. First off, however we pursue our struggles in the future, we should strive to build more infrastructure, more formal communications networks, and more informal social networks that are autonomous of movements comprised largely of people with whom we have serious political differences. Doing this could make it possible that, the next time a large portion of society is drawn into the streets, we will be able to participate in the conflict without losing sight of our own values, building momentum that is not dependent on someone else’s movement.

Once we have infrastructure and networks of our own, as many anarchists in Montréal already do, we should be sure to use them. The thing that distinguishes revolutionary infrastructure from subcultural infrastructure—that is, an anarchist social center from a DIY punk space—is that, alongside its role as another space to live, socialize, and make ends meet, it should also serve to encourage people to throw themselves into anarchist struggle, and to spread the skills necessary for that task.

The latter first.

There are many practical skills that some anarchists already have, and others need to learn: digital self-defense, trauma support, tactics for street action, proficiency in different languages, and so on. These are all useful for specific situations—but we also need to be prepared for general situations. We need to be able to recognize when momentum is picking up, when we are at a peak of opportunity, when things are slowly or rapidly coming to a halt, and what is strategic for anarchists to do in each of these situations. Studying history, not just because it is curious or inspiring but in order to identify patterns and apply lessons, is essential if we hope to orient ourselves in the trajectory of the next upheaval to come.

Finally, the next time we realize that total anarchist triumph is no longer in the cards, we should consider the advantages of going out with a bang.

Further Reading

Report: Convergence for the Rentrée

For print: English | 8.5×11″ | PDF