Photo: Stacy Lanyon
I’ve been in different parts of the social justice movement
for a little more than a decade. I was involved in some of the precursors to Occupy. I was active in the city. I was
part of Bloombergville, which was a two week street occupation outside of City
Hall a couple of months before Occupy. It was one of the actions that opened
some space for the early conversations about Occupy. To be honest, I wasn’t actually drawn to it in the
beginning on a personal level. I didn’t get it. I didn’t think it made that
much sense. I had just done a super similar thing that wasn’t nearly as
successful as we had wanted it to be. A lot of the organizing culture around it
was mystified to me, but I stuck around. I had a lot of friends
that were throwing down. I was there for all of it, but I kept my mouth shut
at first.
I think the moment that I really felt that I was drawn in a deeper way was the execution of Troy Davis. It was one of those political turning points for me. I think there’s a lot of performance in activism. A lot of the time, we do a thing because we’ve seen it done that way before, or we do a thing because it’s going to illicit a response from the public. It’s a lot of acting out. When Troy Davis was executed, I was at a speak-out at Union Square, and it was one of those few moments that I can remember in my own political development that really wasn’t performative at all. It was a lot of sadness and anger and compassion and fury and ferocity and all those kinds of things that you hope for in a movement in a genuine, non-theatrical way. It made me a part of that action in a way that I was not part of other things before.
We marched from Union Square to Zuccotti Park. It was the first time we took the streets. It was the first time the cops beat on us. It was about five days into the Occupation. It was the day he was murdered by the state of Georgia. It was a really moving event to be a part of, but it was also the connecting thread between Occupy and real political struggle made up by some of the most marginalized layers of society—people of color, poor people and people incarcerated. It was a deeply moving thing for me on a personal level, and I would argue on a movement level it was a turning point in the conception of what Occupy could be. Two days later, we had our first mass arrests on another march from Zuccotti Park to Union Square, and I was in those arrests. A week later were the Brooklyn Bridge arrests. Then, we started organizing for October 15th, which was one of the bigger days, and I was involved with some of that organizing. I think it was kind of like an avalanche from there for me.
I think the moment that I really felt that I was drawn in a deeper way was the execution of Troy Davis. It was one of those political turning points for me. I think there’s a lot of performance in activism. A lot of the time, we do a thing because we’ve seen it done that way before, or we do a thing because it’s going to illicit a response from the public. It’s a lot of acting out. When Troy Davis was executed, I was at a speak-out at Union Square, and it was one of those few moments that I can remember in my own political development that really wasn’t performative at all. It was a lot of sadness and anger and compassion and fury and ferocity and all those kinds of things that you hope for in a movement in a genuine, non-theatrical way. It made me a part of that action in a way that I was not part of other things before.
We marched from Union Square to Zuccotti Park. It was the first time we took the streets. It was the first time the cops beat on us. It was about five days into the Occupation. It was the day he was murdered by the state of Georgia. It was a really moving event to be a part of, but it was also the connecting thread between Occupy and real political struggle made up by some of the most marginalized layers of society—people of color, poor people and people incarcerated. It was a deeply moving thing for me on a personal level, and I would argue on a movement level it was a turning point in the conception of what Occupy could be. Two days later, we had our first mass arrests on another march from Zuccotti Park to Union Square, and I was in those arrests. A week later were the Brooklyn Bridge arrests. Then, we started organizing for October 15th, which was one of the bigger days, and I was involved with some of that organizing. I think it was kind of like an avalanche from there for me.
I joined the social justice movement at the
tail end of the anti-war movement, or the tail end of its hype. I was at a
march against the Iraq war that was just before the war, which I think later
was said to be the largest demonstration globally in history in terms of
numbers. That was huge and incredible, but the anti-war
movement, more or less, collapsed a few years after that. In the ten or so
years I had been in the movement, I had never had an experience of being part
of something that was popular. Actually, being in the movement to me, and I
think a lot of leftists still think this way, and I think it’s a handicap on
our movement, but being a leftist meant being on the margins. It wasn’t
popular. We weren’t really communicating with the mainstream. We constantly
were trying to, and the things we were doing weren’t resonating. There are a
lot of factors and conditions. Occupy was one of those first times for me of
feeling like a thing we were doing was actually part of a popular culture, and
the occupation was the center of that thing.
It was a living, breathing organism that people could come and see and touch and grapple with, and it’s what made them feel like the thing was real. It had a lot of blessings and curses as a result of that. I think it was a beautiful demonstration of all the possibilities. I think it was a really symbolically important space in the sense that it was a fusion of creating an alternative and having a staging ground to battle against the status quo, and I think it was big and broad enough to allow people to come and dump their dreams into it. I think that’s what made Occupy special. It was big and broad enough for people to come and find their dreams inside of it. I think that ran its course, ultimately. I think the occupation was not enough of an infrastructure to sustain those dreams, so the same thing that made it really special and moving and magnetic to people also made it not sustainable.
From my experience of being there, it was like a playground. You were walking through and it was just like, “Shit, I don’t know these people, and it’s the best feeling on earth.” It was so great to be a leftist and to not recognize all the other people at the demonstration. What a great contrast to the way the movement had been. Everybody was doing their own thing. There was a yoga thing over there. Some intellectual was giving a talk over there. There was an assembly at one end of the park, and there were drummers at the other end. People were sleeping somewhere between all that, and other people were somewhere planning an action. Everyone was doing their own thing, and somehow it worked. I think it was one of the things that unlocked the early potential of that moment.
It was a living, breathing organism that people could come and see and touch and grapple with, and it’s what made them feel like the thing was real. It had a lot of blessings and curses as a result of that. I think it was a beautiful demonstration of all the possibilities. I think it was a really symbolically important space in the sense that it was a fusion of creating an alternative and having a staging ground to battle against the status quo, and I think it was big and broad enough to allow people to come and dump their dreams into it. I think that’s what made Occupy special. It was big and broad enough for people to come and find their dreams inside of it. I think that ran its course, ultimately. I think the occupation was not enough of an infrastructure to sustain those dreams, so the same thing that made it really special and moving and magnetic to people also made it not sustainable.
From my experience of being there, it was like a playground. You were walking through and it was just like, “Shit, I don’t know these people, and it’s the best feeling on earth.” It was so great to be a leftist and to not recognize all the other people at the demonstration. What a great contrast to the way the movement had been. Everybody was doing their own thing. There was a yoga thing over there. Some intellectual was giving a talk over there. There was an assembly at one end of the park, and there were drummers at the other end. People were sleeping somewhere between all that, and other people were somewhere planning an action. Everyone was doing their own thing, and somehow it worked. I think it was one of the things that unlocked the early potential of that moment.
This is more of a reflection of Occupy as a whole and not on
the occupation itself, but I think that some of the same things that made
Occupy Wall Street really compelling were also really incredible weaknesses. A
really easy example is the leaderlessness thing, which was on the one
hand brilliant. There are countless examples of movements in history
that were just destroyed by unaccountable leadership or by hierarchies that were
internal and unjustified. When you have leaders, they can be targeted. They can
be imprisoned, and there’s something about having an open space that allows
people to grow into it in a way that really structured spaces don’t allow. It was an incredible myth that there were no leaders there. Of course
there were leaders. There were leaders there all the time. There were a lot of
leaders. None of them were accountable because we pretended that there weren’t
any leaders, and if you pretend there aren’t leaders, then you can’t create
structures to hold them accountable. If you pretend there aren’t leaders,
then you can’t actively develop leadership in those that usually don’t
get to have it. Those are extremely difficult handicaps for movements.
As a person with relative privilege in society as a straight, white dude from a class comfortable background in the Northeastern United States, I recognize that I’ve been trained to be a leader my entire life. The system wants me to be a leader, and I was a leader in Occupy. After a couple of years, I am able to say without shame that I was a leader there. I threw down. I was disciplined and committed. I made a bunch of things move, and I gave it my all. Some people trusted me and worked with me, and I also followed other people. I know I wasn’t held accountable. I know that there was no structure through which my leadership could be contested or challenged other than by other leaders who wanted more space for themselves. I think one of the tragic things that happened in Occupy was an internal battle over leadership that I think ultimately had super destructive implications for the movement as a whole, not just for individuals. A lot of individuals were hurt.
I really think we could have lasted longer if we had had structures that had cultivated long-term organizing, that had kept leaders accountable, that could have developed leaders in people who were historically marginalized, all that kind of stuff that when you pretend there are no leaders that you can’t do. I really am being genuine when I say that the leaderlessness was also a blessing. It was both of those things. It was because of that vague, open, blank canvas that so many people came and painted. I mean it that it was both of those things, but it was both of those things, and the mythology around that is important to confront because we’re going to have those opportunities again, and we better do a better job next time.
As a person with relative privilege in society as a straight, white dude from a class comfortable background in the Northeastern United States, I recognize that I’ve been trained to be a leader my entire life. The system wants me to be a leader, and I was a leader in Occupy. After a couple of years, I am able to say without shame that I was a leader there. I threw down. I was disciplined and committed. I made a bunch of things move, and I gave it my all. Some people trusted me and worked with me, and I also followed other people. I know I wasn’t held accountable. I know that there was no structure through which my leadership could be contested or challenged other than by other leaders who wanted more space for themselves. I think one of the tragic things that happened in Occupy was an internal battle over leadership that I think ultimately had super destructive implications for the movement as a whole, not just for individuals. A lot of individuals were hurt.
I really think we could have lasted longer if we had had structures that had cultivated long-term organizing, that had kept leaders accountable, that could have developed leaders in people who were historically marginalized, all that kind of stuff that when you pretend there are no leaders that you can’t do. I really am being genuine when I say that the leaderlessness was also a blessing. It was both of those things. It was because of that vague, open, blank canvas that so many people came and painted. I mean it that it was both of those things, but it was both of those things, and the mythology around that is important to confront because we’re going to have those opportunities again, and we better do a better job next time.
I think in order to protect the movement from people taking
advantage of leadership you’d have to build movement infrastructure before
those moments happen. I think it’s really, really hard to build sustainable
movement structure in the middle of a movement moment. Those are moments that
draw out all sorts of people who come from really different places, who don’t
know each other, who have different backgrounds, who have different interests,
who have different visions, who are all coming together to create a thing
together. That’s a really necessary component of a social transformation of a
revolutionary movement because when all sorts of people who are supremely
different from one another find themselves in the same place and are struggling
with each other to create something, there are a lot of challenges to work through there.
I want to look at this as a future-oriented question rather than a “What could we have done?” I think we are in a place where we are going to have more movement moments like that, and I think that the task is to prepare for those moments by building organizations and other kinds of infrastructure that have systems and ways of doing things. Not everybody would have to be in all of these different groups. People could choose what kind of systems they would want to be a part of and what kinds of institutions they would want to participate in. I can definitely imagine a situation where there are a bunch of different training institutions and political organizations and affinity groups and community councils and worker councils and unions. All these different kinds of infrastructures would have their own rules, would have their own ways of being. They would be different from each other, and that’s okay. They would find a way to work together and connect with each other. There wouldn't be an expectation that everyone would have to participate in the same way.
I think one of the things that was really missing in Occupy was the idea that in order to have a say, you had to invest in a thing. There’s a really big difference between having a general assembly in a park and having a general assembly at your workplace. The difference is that, at your workplace, you’re part of a circle of belonging. You go to work there. You have something at stake there. You’re accountable to someone there. You invest something there. You go there every day. You know the people there. You have relationships with each other. In a park, you could have some people who are really die hard, who have the best intentions, who have vision, who are committed, who were there from day one, who sleep on the floor, who make the food for everyone, and then you can have just a random person who walks in one day, and they each have equal say. That actually doesn’t make sense. The truth is that that’s not how we should build the movement. That’s not how we should build societies. People should have a say to the extent that they are affected by the outcomes and to the extent to that they invest in it. I think there was a mistake about inclusion. I think it’s true that movements need to be inclusive. At the same time, I think they need to have circles of belonging.
I want to look at this as a future-oriented question rather than a “What could we have done?” I think we are in a place where we are going to have more movement moments like that, and I think that the task is to prepare for those moments by building organizations and other kinds of infrastructure that have systems and ways of doing things. Not everybody would have to be in all of these different groups. People could choose what kind of systems they would want to be a part of and what kinds of institutions they would want to participate in. I can definitely imagine a situation where there are a bunch of different training institutions and political organizations and affinity groups and community councils and worker councils and unions. All these different kinds of infrastructures would have their own rules, would have their own ways of being. They would be different from each other, and that’s okay. They would find a way to work together and connect with each other. There wouldn't be an expectation that everyone would have to participate in the same way.
I think one of the things that was really missing in Occupy was the idea that in order to have a say, you had to invest in a thing. There’s a really big difference between having a general assembly in a park and having a general assembly at your workplace. The difference is that, at your workplace, you’re part of a circle of belonging. You go to work there. You have something at stake there. You’re accountable to someone there. You invest something there. You go there every day. You know the people there. You have relationships with each other. In a park, you could have some people who are really die hard, who have the best intentions, who have vision, who are committed, who were there from day one, who sleep on the floor, who make the food for everyone, and then you can have just a random person who walks in one day, and they each have equal say. That actually doesn’t make sense. The truth is that that’s not how we should build the movement. That’s not how we should build societies. People should have a say to the extent that they are affected by the outcomes and to the extent to that they invest in it. I think there was a mistake about inclusion. I think it’s true that movements need to be inclusive. At the same time, I think they need to have circles of belonging.
I'm working on a project now that's called the Wildfire
Project. We basically run trainings for frontline organizing groups around the
country. What we do is partner with an organization that’s organizing around
some type of crisis—housing crisis, climate crisis, student debt, mass
incarceration. We take them through a long training program that combines
political education, organizing training and group development. The groups
that we work with are similar to each other in that they are, for the most part, emerging from these big movement moments, whether Occupy or Occupy Sandy or
Trayvon Martin. We basically
support them with a long term training program. Not
only are we strengthening their capacity to win and to do the work they are
already doing, but we are also connecting them to each other to start to build
infrastructure for the next time around. That’s very much a product of Occupy.
We’re a collective of trainers who work together to identify groups. A lot of
us came out of Occupy or met through it, and a lot of our work is guided by the
feeling that one of the things that we need to improve in this time that’s in
between movement moments is building infrastructure to prepare to rise to the
challenge in those moments in the future.
I think the stakes are incredibly high. One of the things
that I’ve learned from being in the movement and working with the groups that
we work with through Wildfire is that the stakes are unbelievably high. People
are fighting for their lives, and that’s not a hyperbole. There are people, who
if they don’t win, they are going to lose their homes, or they are going to be
in prison, or they’ll have to move, or they’ll be murdered by homophobic,
racist motherfuckers, or they will be hungry. It’s not a joke. On top of that,
we’re also facing a climate crisis that threatens our whole species to some
extent, and that’s not in the distant future. That’s in the now future. It’s
not only important that we do the work. It’s important that we win. We also
have to win, or else, we’re not going to make it.
I want to add to that because that’s very doom and gloom. It’s also important because humans have just an incredible amount of potential. If you think back in human history, there’s a really sad way of looking at it, which is to think about just how much human potential has been stamped out or repressed or cut short by these horrible, oppressive, catastrophic systems that have just dominated us for millennia. It's also important to think about what’s possible as a result of that. Think about what we can make. Think about the kind of structures we could build, the kind of society that we could have, the way that people could love each other or the way that people could make art, the incredible compassion that people do actually have the capacity for that could be out in the world if we had ways to cultivate it.
We can have a society in which everyone’s needs are met, and we can have a society in which people aren’t scraping by to survive, one where they are actually cultivating their ability to flourish. We live in a society in which there are more empty homes than there are homeless people. This is inexcusable, and there is no reason for that. We can have a world where every person has a home, where every person has enough to eat, where people have decision making power over the institutions that govern their lives, where people have the tools to express their culture, and where peoples have the ability to self-determination. It’s kind of silly that we have to talk about it because everybody should have a home and an education. There’s not a whole lot of work for us to do in order to get there.
I want to add to that because that’s very doom and gloom. It’s also important because humans have just an incredible amount of potential. If you think back in human history, there’s a really sad way of looking at it, which is to think about just how much human potential has been stamped out or repressed or cut short by these horrible, oppressive, catastrophic systems that have just dominated us for millennia. It's also important to think about what’s possible as a result of that. Think about what we can make. Think about the kind of structures we could build, the kind of society that we could have, the way that people could love each other or the way that people could make art, the incredible compassion that people do actually have the capacity for that could be out in the world if we had ways to cultivate it.
We can have a society in which everyone’s needs are met, and we can have a society in which people aren’t scraping by to survive, one where they are actually cultivating their ability to flourish. We live in a society in which there are more empty homes than there are homeless people. This is inexcusable, and there is no reason for that. We can have a world where every person has a home, where every person has enough to eat, where people have decision making power over the institutions that govern their lives, where people have the tools to express their culture, and where peoples have the ability to self-determination. It’s kind of silly that we have to talk about it because everybody should have a home and an education. There’s not a whole lot of work for us to do in order to get there.
I think a big part of the problem is that people are super isolated and separated from each other. I think that because of this system's insistence of individuality as the centerpiece of human society, one of the consequences is that when shit goes bad for us, we’re convinced that it’s our fault. You see this in the housing and justice movement. It’s a huge, huge step for homeowners, who are ultimately just working class people, to admit they are in foreclosure. They don’t own their home. A bank owns their home. Nobody owns anything in this society. Everyone is in debt. For homeowners to admit that they are under foreclosure is huge. That’s the turning point. Once they admit that they’re in foreclosure, they are ready to fight. They meet other people who are in foreclosure. They join Occupy Homes. They defend their homes. They get a whole bunch of people to help them defend it. Then, the banks negotiate, but that first step, most people don’t get there because they are just buried under mountains of shame. I think that this system teaches us shame on a really, really deep level—shame of how we look, shame of skin color, body type, wealth or lack of.
I’m not sure it's that people are apathetic. Aside from the brutality that people face and the examples that are made of people who step out of line, there's the sheer inability to have a lot of time to think about this shit if you are working three jobs and raising a family. On some level, there’s a level of consent, that if they withdrew it, shit would look really different. There is obviously some level of consent that is going on or acceptance that this is the status quo, but I also think that there are a lot of people who think this is fucked and who resist it or find their way outside of it on a day to day. I actually think that systems like capitalism don’t survive on their own. Part of the way that they survive is that they rely on people to exhibit behaviors that are actually totally outside of the rules of capitalism in order to survive, like when poor people share things. That’s not part of the logic of capitalism. It’s something that people do to survive under capitalism. In some ways, it’s a thing that makes it possible for this to go on, and in other ways, that’s a form of resistance. People are resisting every day.
We need to replace capitalism and white supremacy and patriarchy. We need to build social, political and economic institutions that actually meet people’s needs, that gives people a say over these structures, that allows people to self-determine and make decisions about their own lives and that gives people the capacity to be everything that we’re capable of being. It's hard to say what we're capable of. Everything. I think the cop-out answer is that we don’t even know what we’re capable of yet. Humans are capable of a whole lot. We’re capable of being angry, horrible, murderous villains, and we’re also capable of being loving and solidaristic and compassionate. I think the things that humans are able to create when they’re operating in the world from a place of abundance instead of a place of scarcity are unparalleled.
Interview by Stacy Lanyon
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