Stop talking about revolution

I no longer want to use the term, nor do I want to see it in left-wing or radical left-wing contexts, unless the actions actually live up to the word. I have no doubt that a revolution is needed. But I do have doubts that we are on the brink of one…

Words are sometimes just words, and that simply isn’t enough

The inflationary use of this term alone will not – surprisingly, for many – lead to a revolution. One cannot talk a revolution into existence any more than one can talk about the end of capitalism, class struggle or systemic change. A revolution happens through actions that accumulate, triggering chain reactions and, yes, escalation. Nor is a revolution ‘made’; it can be ignited and, from that point on, is an event that develops and gains momentum. It should be steered. It should be prepared for by recognising when ‘the moment’ has arrived, by having a clear goal and intermediate steps in mind, contingency plans and, above all, staying power and determination. But it certainly cannot be talked into existence, all the less so when the use of the word ‘revolution’ is the only thing that comes to mind for potential revolutionaries.

For ages this week, I couldn’t find a hook, an idea, or – above all – the motivation to write a blog post, because of the whale, the world, and simply too much of everything. But then someone sent me this link: Revolution Days of the New Generation (Si apre in una nuova finestra) – “Revolution Days are the interplay of building, getting involved and community – that’s what defines the New Generation.” For a while, all that remained was breathing, then the question “laugh or cry”, is it me or is it the others, and is this still diversity of tactics (which is undoubtedly needed)?

Breathing is still there. Anger is too. And tiredness.

No, dear New Generation, revolution is not the interplay of building, intervening and community! According to the Political Lexicon (Si apre in una nuova finestra), revolution is defined as follows: [Latin] Revolution denotes a rapid, radical (usually violent) change in existing (political, social, economic) conditions. If one is sympathetic to your approach, one reads this definition a little further: “Political revolutions generally aim at the removal of the existing political leaders and the creation of fundamentally new institutions, accompanied by a change in leadership and power. The aim of these deliberately brought about, far-reaching changes is to eliminate existing problems and power structures through a political fresh start, and to replace them with something radically new (e.g. new power structures, new elites, new ownership arrangements, a new [constitutional] order, etc.)”. At best, your approach aims to establish something radically new (new power structures, property relations, etc.) following the elimination of the old. So, at best, you are seeking an answer to a question that all of us who dream of the end of capitalism, a system change and a revolution hear time and again: ‘And then? What do you actually want?’ You are looking for a possible answer to the ‘afterwards’ – following (in time) a revolution. However, you do not provide a revolution, nor certainly any ways to spark one. Similarly, one might critically question whether merely replacing one power structure with another, or transferring ownership from the current elites to the many/others, is right, sensible, or whether it might not also become problematic again in the long term, etc. But let’s leave that aside for now. Nor is this about the New Generation as a singular problem. It is about the erosion, weakening and devaluation of words that are actually very meaningful and powerful, and which are just as necessary today, perhaps more than ever. As these words are weakened and devalued, history and stories are similarly devalued, stripped of their meaning, their importance and their function. And we – as left-wingers and radical leftists, as those who so desperately need this history and these stories to find new (old?) ways of acting and to add new chapters to history and stories ourselves – are doing this in an almost inflationary manner. We are disempowering and weakening ourselves at a time when we are already in a position of weakness due to a variety of external influences.

History and stories

We need history to see how certain goals have been achieved in the past, so that, in the best-case scenario, they can be achieved again; to see where problems lurk, what dangers exist, what has worked and what has not. We need history to learn from successes and mistakes, and thus to repeat the former and avoid the latter.

We need stories, particularly those that do not serve ‘merely’ as entertainment, for precisely the same reasons. Incidentally, ‘in the past’ such a clear distinction between history and stories was neither present nor possible, as stories were not told solely for the sake of entertainment. Stories have often served to create and record history, and to pass on accounts of events. They have served to convey values, concepts of right and wrong, good and evil, and to highlight possibilities. Stories have recounted events, discoveries, struggles, victors and vanquished, revolutions and revolutionaries. (Those with a religious context and background are a different matter.)

A first major shift in the motivation behind the telling of history (and stories) occurred when people settled down and laid claim to territories, which in turn gave rise to influence and thus power. Stories were then increasingly told to create the impression of legitimacy for one’s own possessions and claims to power, and to consolidate these claims and positions. History increasingly became the stories of the victors; the truth was increasingly left by the wayside or became a matter of interpretation.

When we tell stories today using grand words, they often lack the crucial element – particularly for political storytelling – of a real, current context and actual events, and they lack the promise of hope and possibilities based on realistic assumptions. In our stories, revolutions now exist only as references to events that took place some time ago – events in which none of us, nor our contemporaries, were truly involved. Sometimes we don’t even have stories anymore, just the word on a banner or woven into a rhyming protest slogan.

Wait a minute, some of you who read my texts regularly might be thinking. Did she just say ‘hope’, and in a positive sense at that? Yes, I did – with the necessary and essential caveat of realistic assumptions. I’m well aware of the positive effects of hope and the prospect of success and improvement. These effects do work and are a good thing, provided the promised successes and improvements are realistic and achievable through our own efforts. Revolution, however – given the current situation (zero leverage and impact, etc.) and our approach (appealing and non-violent at all costs) – is not.

Hope used to be better too

So where is the difference between the hope in the stories and history of days gone and the ‘hopium’ of today? Well, for one thing, there were far fewer of the almost all-encompassing and interconnected catastrophes we face today. Hoping that these could be resolved or contained was more justified and realistic than it is today. On the other hand, there were still so many unknown corners and so much that was unknown in itself that the belief in and hope for a saviour appearing from somewhere was nowhere near as unrealistically absurd as it is today, when we as humanity – particularly in the guise of the ‘powerful’ – have already shown our true colours so often that there is scarcely any reason for great hope. For a long time, many stories were accounts of actual events from one’s own era, certainly embellished, but their protagonists had very real counterparts; great stories unfolded within one’s own reality, and the consequences of history, due to their temporal proximity, influenced one’s daily life.

Storytelling is an art, but it also has real-world relevance, and we should bear this in mind more strongly. As part of our Mutual Aid HEAT (Si apre in una nuova finestra) in September, we will deliberately integrate this into the programme and each evening hear stories and history from one of our four thematic areas, told by people who were or are involved. And because stories are important, we should stop dressing up bullshit and empty platitudes as stories intended to sell us false hope.

Overtaken by the right

Incidentally, the right has unfortunately overtaken us in this area too. They are able to link their own success stories to their grand rhetoric. ‘Gender madness’ is increasingly being met with actual laws that undermine the rights of trans*people. With the reform of the Common European Asylum System (CEAS), a repatriation programme negotiated with the Taliban, and more money and power for Frontex, etc., remigration has already become a very real prospect. ‘Traditional family values’ are reflected in Stone Age abortion laws, and when Trump talks about ‘reducing Iran to rubble and ashes’, no one doubts that he can and will do so.

What about what our banners proclaim? Climate justice now? Not really. No borders, no nation? Unattainable. Smash [you name it] isn’t going down too well either. United we fight? Not a chance. Stop the gas? Please, Ende Gelaende mass action – let’s make it happen! To ensure this doesn’t just fizzle out in words, our actions must match the words a bit more closely. They must restore weight and meaning to words, so that we can once again tell our own stories and shape our history – stories and history we have witnessed, actively influenced, and whose consequences and victories we can see before our eyes. From this, we can then gladly draw confidence and hope once more, but hope that is anchored in reality and can be shaped by us.