~ by Stavros Stavrides ~
There are many ways to think about what one has done, what one is doing, what one would like to do, and what one should do. There are many ways to do this collectively. However, this is where differences, divergent approaches, and disagreements intersect. How can the approach in this case truly be both a reflection and a resolution of such differences, provided, of course, that those who explore it have the collective intention of finding common ground and establishing pathways to that ground?
A rebellion with international resonance that has not ceased to surprise with its dynamism and self-critical attitude may be finding the way, or, more correctly, it is constantly exploring ways in which such a perspective can become a reality. The Zapatistas, the resurgent militants of Chiapas in southern Mexico, are building autonomous communities stubbornly committed to collective participation and equality. Their project unfolds in a hostile environment: Mexico, with its political corruption and widespread domination by organized drug gangs. In constant confrontation with these conditions, the Zapatistas seek ways to realize their own vision on a daily basis without embellishing the results and without hesitating to criticize their own mistakes.
And this is where they found themselves faced with the limits and false guarantees of most rhetorical discourses on social change: we know how often movements that promise to seek a free and emancipated society adopt a discourse that is both prophetic and prescriptive. How often do they promise and prescribe without exposing themselves to the uncertainties and contradictions of social experimentation? The Zapatistas insist that rhetoric is not enough, even though their proclamations have opened up new horizons for us in the critical and reflective formulation of questions of political action. What they increasingly argue is that we must find ways for collective expectations and experiences of an effort to create a just society to be shaped jointly, with the participation and action of more and more people.
In Morelia, one of the rebellious communities, a few days ago, what the Zapatistas called the International Meetings of Rebellions and Resistances took place. There, narratives and thoughts from around the world converged with the aim of sharing knowledge and experiences of overcoming capitalism and patriarchy. However, what seems to have opened up the horizon for the practical creation of common places of rebellion was the Zapatistas’ own attempt to overcome what they themselves consider to be weaknesses and mistakes in the way they have so far implement self-government.
And they did this not through exhausting speeches of accountability but through two theatrical performances, or perhaps more accurately, through a series of symbolic events. The first sequence, which lasted long and was completed in two days, included a series of scenes that relentlessly exposed the shortcomings of the Good Governance Councils system. The distance between communities and elected and recallable authorities, the inability to transfer information at all levels of autonomous governance, the phenomena of corruption, and administrative misunderstanding, were all represented as familiar, easily understandable, and recognizable scenes because they were created by bodies that expressed real shared experiences through their movements, expressions, and words. And the climax: in a symbolic act of rejection of any form of hierarchical organization of society, an impressive replica of a wooden pyramid was set on fire. What could be a more convincing representation of the rejection of a historically repeated practice of establishing inequality? The most impressive moment was when the boundaries between those watching and those performing the act were abolished. Everyone rushed to the burning pyramid and began throwing stones and wood at it with fury! The common ground of rejection of hierarchy literally became a common ground of bodies acting together in a symbolic dethronement. Collective self-criticism turned into collective action. Which means a collective promise. Of the living to the dead of the uprising. Of today’s fighters to those whose efforts made it possible to embark on a path of collective emancipation, always ready to confront its mistakes and weaknesses.
The next sequence of performances was meant to focus on the way the living must address future generations, those who have not yet been born. In a characteristic, almost carnival-like mood, unborn generations were represented as pairs of ovum and sperm by female and male partners wearing the corresponding buffoonish costumes. Here, the promise became a political proposition. Generation after generation, the power of continuity depends on a different relationship with the earth, Mother Earth as they call her (as do most indigenous peoples of Latin America). In the face of the destructive frenzy of capitalist extractivism, respect for nature, coexistence and care, cohabitation with other beings, love for those who have not yet been born. And the wisdom of such a perspective, deeply hostile to capitalist exploitation and the structural inequalities of patriarchy, was expressed in the words and physical presence of a beetle. How much more emphatic can the theatrical, symbolic, but ultimately real expression of respect for the weakest members of a coexistence system be? The wisdom of a humble beetle in a world dominated by those with the power to destroy.
The language of the performed scenes may have seemed overly didactic to some. However, the context in which they developed and their means of expression left no doubt as to their purpose. The creation of common ground took place simultaneously on a symbolic, utopian (proclamatory) and real level. In an old communiqué, the then Subcomandante Marcos wrote that we must fight capitalism in ways that do not resemble it. But in order to think about the struggle and its prospects, we also need to explore ways that are free from the dominant imaginaries of a society of exploitation. Ways in which thought intersects with emotion, in which the serious meets the joke, not the jokes of sarcasm but those of teasing that breeds solidarity, ways in which the symbolic will affect the imaginary and the imaginary in turn will generate realities instead of escaping into the non-existent.
In Morelia, at Semillero (“Seedbed”), the venue for international meetings, the Zapatistas expressed in many ways their new effort to transcend themselves in the prospect of a self-governing, just society. The common (el común), their new slogan that describes both their relationship with the land as a common good (they call it “land without papers”) and the structure of society that will be based on direct participation in decision-making, is their new challenge.
Seeking ways to establish, nurture, and develop the common, they find ways to think about it through performances, talks, the tender exchanges of knowledge and experiences with those they met on their journey through Europe and, above all, with the communal life in the solidarity camp that framed the events of the Meetings for 15 days. Because, ultimately, the prospect of a society based on the joint construction of a rich common world can only be developed through the dynamics of multiple encounters.