Arquivo da tag: Anarquismo

Os invisíveis querem ser vistos (Fapesp)

Livro resgata a contribuição dos antropólogos franceses Pierre e Hélène Clastres sobre os Tupi-Guarani, “um desafio para o modelo de desenvolvimento dominante” (reprodução)

09/04/2013

Por José Tadeu Arantes

Agência FAPESP – O resgate do pensamento dos antropólogos franceses Pierre e Hélène Clastres é uma das peças de resistência do livro O Profeta e o Principal, de Renato Sztutman, professor do Departamento de Antropologia da Universidade de São Paulo (USP).

Ponto de clivagem na reflexão antropológica, com profunda repercussão na filosofia, na sociologia e na prática política, a obra seminal do casal Clastres foi objeto de atenta releitura por parte de Sztutman em sua tese de doutorado, desenvolvida de 2001 a 2005, sob a orientação de Dominique Tilkin Gallois, com Bolsa da FAPESP. O livro, recentemente publicado também com apoio da FAPESP, é uma revisão dessa tese, que tem por objeto o material teórico relativo aos Tupi-Guarani.

“A reflexão acerca dos Guarani foi fundamental para que Pierre Clastres [1934-1977] formulasse sua concepção de sociedade contra o Estado”, afirmou Sztutman. “E o que estamos vendo hoje, 35 anos depois da morte prematura de Clastres [que faleceu aos 43 anos em um acidente automobilístico], é justamente um reflexo disso. Por se estruturarem como uma sociedade contra o Estado, os Guarani se tornaram indesejáveis para a sociedade e para o Estado hegemônicos”.

Sztutman aponta diversas características que fariam dos Guarani um desafio para o modelo de desenvolvimento dominante: “São povos que vivem em regiões que estão sendo ocupadas pelo agronegócio; que atravessam as fronteiras nacionais, transitando entre o Brasil, o Paraguai, a Argentina e o Uruguai; que têm uma relação com a terra completamente diferente do que se possa imaginar como sendo propriedade; que, apesar de terem líderes e saberem se organizar politicamente para a autodefesa, resistem à centralização política e à figura de um chefe central”.

Segundo o pesquisador, durante muito tempo a sociedade brasileira fez vistas grossas aos crimes cometidos contra os Guarani. “Eles estavam sendo dizimados e ninguém se importava. Hoje, uma parcela expressiva da sociedade chegou finalmente à compreensão de que é imprescindível dar direito de existência a populações que são contra o modelo hegemônico. Não podemos mais fazer vistas grossas. Temos que nos posicionar pelo direito de essas sociedades serem o que são: contra o Estado (e seu modelo desenvolvimentista), dentro de um Estado”, disse.

No Sudeste e Sul do Brasil, há Guarani em muitos locais. Na própria cidade de São Paulo, a não muitos quilômetros do marco central, na Praça da Sé, existem três aldeias guarani: duas em Parelheiros e outra próxima do Pico do Jaraguá. Mas, por ocuparem pouco espaço, estarem sempre em movimento e serem discretos no contato com a sociedade envolvente, esses Guarani se tornaram praticamente invisíveis.

“Em um texto de meados dos anos 1980, Eduardo Viveiros de Castro (antropólogo e professor da Universidade Federal do Rio de Janeiro) se referiu a eles como povo imperceptível”, disse Sztutman. “Quando pensamos em índio, pensamos na Amazônia ou no passado. Mas os Guarani não estão na Amazônia nem no passado. Estão diante dos nossos olhos. E nós não os vemos.”

Conforme Sztutman, outro marco divisório, este no domínio teórico da antropologia, com repercussão na filosofia e nas ciências humanas em geral, foi estabelecido, décadas atrás, pelo livroA Sociedade contra o Estado, de Pierre Clastres. Nele, o pesquisador francês interpretou a ausência de Estado nas sociedades indígenas não como uma deficiência (algo a que elas ainda não chegaram), mas como uma rejeição (algo a que elas se opõem, por meio de mecanismos eficazes).

A partir de Clastres, o esquema clássico, calcado na experiência dos povos da Europa, deixou de ser um modelo inelutável para a interpretação da trajetória de todos os povos do mundo. O Profeta e o Principal, de Sztutman, se insere em um grande movimento de recuperação e releitura da obra de Clastres.

“Principalmente nos anos 1980, os antropólogos se afastaram muito da perspectiva clastreana, pois buscavam uma antropologia mais empírica e Clastres era considerado excessivamente filosófico: alguém que trabalhava com os dados de maneira imprecisa e chegava a grandes conclusões com base em poucas evidências. De fato, na época em que ele escreveu, décadas de 1960 e 1970, havia poucos estudos etnográficos sobre os povos amazônicos, dentre eles os de língua tupi. Porém, nas décadas seguintes, estudos importantes foram realizados. E, principalmente com o trabalho de Viveiros de Castro, começou a haver uma reaproximação da etnologia com a filosofia, mas, então, já com a possibilidade de se discutir ideias filosóficas a partir de uma grande riqueza de dados empíricos. Aí, se abriu uma brecha para a releitura dos Clastres, Pierre e Hélène”, disse Sztutman.

Sztutman, que também é pesquisador do Centro de Estudos Ameríndios e do Laboratório de Imagem e Som em Antropologia, considera-se um herdeiro dessa nova tendência, reconhecendo, além da contribuição de Viveiros de Castro, as influências de Márcio Goldman e Tânia Stolze Lima, do Rio de Janeiro, e de Dominique Gallois e Beatriz Perrone-Moisés, de São Paulo, com quem tem trabalhado frequentemente e que prefaciou o seu livro.

“Realizei, em 1996, um trabalho de campo entre os Wajãpi, grupo de língua tupi que habita a região do rio Oiapoque, no extremo norte do Brasil, perto da fronteira com a Guiana Francesa. Escrevi sobre essa experiência em minha tese de mestrado. Foi uma permanência curta, mas que originou muitas inquietações que motivaram, depois, meu doutorado”, contou Sztutman.

“Embora os Guarani sejam, hoje, o povo indígena mais populoso da América do Sul, existem também muitos povos Tupi na Amazônia. O que suscitou meu interesse pelos Tupi antigos foram os Tupi amazônicos, e não os Guarani”, afirmou.

O xamã e o guerreiro

“Meu trabalho de pesquisa se baseia na continuidade das formas indígenas de organização políticas do passado até o presente. Tento identificar, como base dessa continuidade, a relação de duas figuras importantes: a do chefe ou ‘principal’, ligado à guerra, e a do xamã ou ‘profeta’, ligado ao mundo não humano. São duas figuras ao mesmo tempo opostas e complementares”, disse Sztutman.

“ É um pouco na alternância dessas duas formas de liderança que a vida social se constitui. Mas não há um dualismo total, porque você não encontra essas figuras puras. Todo chefe de guerra é um pouco xamã; todo xamã é um pouco guerreiro. São princípios em combinação. O profeta é um grande xamã, alguém que vai além do xamanismo estrito, voltado para a cura e a feitiçaria, e lhe dá um sentido político, liderando as grandes migrações rumo à ‘terra sem mal’”, explicou.

Sztutman reconhece que seu viés é mais o do pesquisador teórico-bibliográfico do que o do pesquisador de campo. Porém considera a pesquisa de campo uma passagem obrigatória para o antropólogo.

“Uma professora que tive dizia que é muito diferente ler uma etnografia quando se teve experiência de campo. A formação do antropólogo tem que passar pelo campo, mesmo que ele descubra que a sua vocação é mais ligada ao trabalho de comparação, de análise, de sistematização ou mesmo de história intelectual, como é o meu caso”, disse.

“Voltei a campo, depois que estive com os Wajãpi. E gostaria de voltar novamente. Mas acho que a melhor contribuição que posso dar é a de cotejar as etnografias, de confrontar as teorias com os dados, e, também, de fazer um pouco da história da etnologia indígena. Acho que a etnologia indígena pode dar uma contribuição muito grande para as ciências humanas em geral”, disse Sztutman.

David Graeber: Some Remarks on Consensus (Occupy Wall Street)

Posted on Feb. 26, 2013, 3:37 p.m. EST by OccupyWallSt 

the medium is the message

As part of our recent series on Occupy and consensus, we are posting this timely piece by David Graeber, originally published at OccupyWallStreet.net

There has been a flurry of discussion around process in OWS of late. This can only be a good thing. Atrophy and complacency are the death of movements. Any viable experiment in freedom is pretty much going to have to constantly re-examine itself, see what’s working and what isn’t—partly because situations keep changing, partly because we’re trying to invent a culture of democracy in a society where almost no one really has any experience in democratic decision-making, and most have been told for most of their lives that it would be impossible, and partly just because it’s all an experiment, and it’s in the nature of experiments that sometimes they don’t work.

A lot of this debate has centered around the role of consensus. This is healthy too, because there seem to be a lot of misconceptions floating around about what consensus is and is supposed to be about. Some of these misconceptions are so basic, though, I must admit I find them a bit startling.

Just one telling example. Justine Tunney recently wrote a piece called “Occupiers: Stop Using Consensus!” that begins by describing it as “the idea that a group must strictly adhere to a protocol where all decisions are unanimous”—and then goes on to claim that OWS used such a process, with disastrous results. This is bizarre. OWS never used absolute consensus. On the very first meeting on August 2, 2011 we established we’d use a form of modified consensus with a fallback to a two-thirds vote. Anyway, the description is wrong even if we had been using absolute consensus (an approach nowadays rarely used in groups of over 20 or 30 people), since consensus is not a system of unanimous voting, it’s a system where any participant has the right to veto a proposal which they consider either to violate some fundamental principle, or which they object to so fundamentally that proceeding would cause them to quit the group. If we can have people who have been involved with OWS from the very beginning who still don’t know that much, but think consensus is some kind of “strict” unanimous voting system, we’ve got a major problem. How could anyone have worked with OWS that long and still remained apparently completely unaware of the basic principles under which we were supposed to be operating?

Granted, this seems to be an extreme case. But it reflects a more general confusion. And it exists on both sides of the argument: both some of the consensus’ greatest supporters, and its greatest detractors, seem to think “consensus” is a formal set of rules, analogous to Roberts’ Rules of Order, which must be strictly observed, or thrown away. This certainly was not what people who first developed formal process thought that they were doing! They saw consensus as a set of principles, a commitment to making decisions in a spirit of problem-solving, mutual respect, and above all, a refusal of coercion. It was an attempt to create processes that could work in a truly free society. None of them, even the most legalistic, were so presumptuous to claim those were the only procedures that could ever work in a free society. That would have been ridiculous.

Let me return to this point in a moment. First,

1) CONSENSUS IS “A WHITE THING” (OR A MIDDLE CLASS WHITE THING, OR AN ELITIST FORM OF OPPRESSION, ETC)

The first thing to be said about this statement is that this idea is a very American thing. Anyone I mention it to who is not from the United States tends to react to the statement with complete confusion. Even in the US, it is a relatively recent idea, and the product of a very particular set of historical circumstances.

The confusion overseas is due to the fact that almost everywhere except the US, the exact opposite is true. In the Americas, Africa, Asia, Oceania, one finds longstanding traditions of making decisions by consensus, and then, histories of white colonialists coming and imposing Roberts Rules of Order, majority voting, elected representatives, and the whole associated package—by force. South Asian panchayat councils did not operate by majority voting and still don’t unless there has been a direct colonial influence, or by political parties that learned their idea of democracy in colonial schools and government bodies the colonialists set up. The same is true of communal assemblies in Africa. (In China, village assemblies also operated by consensus until the ’50s when the Communist Party imposed majority voting, since Mao felt voting was more “Western” and therefore “modern.”) Almost everywhere in the Americas, indigenous communities use consensus and the white or mestizo descendants of colonialists use majority voting (insofar as they made decisions on an equal basis at all, which mostly they didn’t), and when you find an indigenous community using majority voting, it is again under the explicit influence of European ideas—almost always, along with elected officials, and formal rules of procedure obviously learned in colonial schools or borrowed from colonial regimes. Insofar as anyone is teaching anyone else to use consensus, it’s the other way around: as in the case of the Maya-speaking Zapatista communities who insisted the EZLN adopt consensus over the strong initial objections of Spanish-speaking mestizos like Marcos, or for that matter the white Australian activists I know who told me that student groups in the ’80s and ’90s had to turn to veterans of the Maoist New People’s Army to train them in consensus process—not because Maoists were supposed to believe in consensus, since Mao himself didn’t like the idea, but because NPA guerillas were mostly from rural communities in the Philippines that had always used consensus to make decisions and therefore guerilla units had adopted the same techniques spontaneously.

So where does the idea that consensus is a “white thing” actually come from? Indigenous communities in America all used consensus decision-making instead of voting. Africans brought to the Americas had been kidnapped from communities where consensus was the normal mode of making collective decisions, and violently thrust into a society where “democracy” meant voting (even though they themselves were not allowed to vote.) Meanwhile, the only significant group of white settlers who employed consensus were the Quakers—and even they had developed much of their process under the influence of Native Americans like the Haudenosaunee.

As far as I can make out the ideas comes out of political arguments that surrounded the rise of Black Nationalism in the 1960s. The very first mass movement in the United States that operated by consensus was the SNCC, or Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee, a primarily African-American group created in 1960 as a horizontal alternative to Martin Luther King’s (very vertical) SCLC. SNCC operated in a decentralized fashion and used consensus decision-making. It was SNCC for instance that organized the famous “freedom rides” and most of the direct action campaigns of the early ’60s. By 1964, an emerging Black Power faction was looking for an issue with which to isolate and ultimately expel the white members of the group. They seized on consensus as a kind of wedge issue—this made sense, politically, because many of those white allies were Quakers, and it was advantageous, at first, to frame the argument as one of efficiency, rather than being about more fundamental moral and political issues like non-violence. It’s important to emphasize though that the objections to consensus as inefficient and culturally alien that were put forward at the time were not put forward in the name of moving to some other form of direct democracy (i.e., majority voting), but ultimately, part of a rejection of the whole package of horizontality, consensus, and non-violence with the ultimate aim of creating top-down organizational structures that could support much greater militancy. It also corresponded to an overt attack on the place of women in the organization—an organization that had in fact been founded by the famous African-American activist Ella Baker on the principle “strong people don’t need strong leaders.” Stokely Carmichael, the most famous early Black Power advocate in SNCC, notoriously responded to a paper circulated by feminists noting that women seemed to be systematically excluded from positions in the emerging leadership structure by saying as far as he was concerned, “the only position for women in SNCC is prone.”

Within a few years SNCC began to splinter; white allies were expelled in 1965; after a brief merger with the Panthers it split again, and dissolved in the ’70s.

These tensions—challenges to horizontalism and consensus, macho leadership styles, the marginalization of women—were by no means peculiar to SNCC. Similar battles were going on in predominantly white groups: notably SDS, which ultimately ditched consensus too, and ended up splitting between Maoists and Weathermen. This is one reason the feminist movement of the early ’70s, which within the New Left began partly as a reaction to just this kind of macho posturing, embraced consensus as an antidote. (Anarchists only later adopted it from them.) But one point bears emphasizing. It’s important. None of those who challenged consensus did so in the name of a different form of direct democracy. In fact, I’m not aware of any example of an activist group that abandoned consensus and then went on to settle on some different, but equally horizontal approach to decision-making. The end result is invariably abandoning direct democracy entirely Sometimes that’s because, as here, that is explicitly what those challenging consensus want. But even when it’s not, the same thing happens, because moving from consensus sets off a dynamic that inevitably leads in a vertical direction. When consensus is abandoned, some are likely to quit in protest. These are likely to be the most dedicated to horizontal principles. Factions form. Minority factions that consistently lose key votes, and don’t have their concerns incorporated in resulting proposals, will often split off. Since they too are likely to consist of more horizontally oriented participants, the group becomes ever more vertical. Before long, those who never liked direct democracy to begin with start saying it’s what’s really to blame for all these problems, it’s inefficient, things would run far more smoothly with clearly defined leadership roles—and it only takes a vote of 51% of the remaining, much more vertical group, to ditch direct democracy entirely.

Obviously, the widespread perception of consensus process as white isn’t just be a hold-over from events that took place forty years ago. A lot of the problem is that, since the ’70s, consensus process has largely been developed among direct-action oriented groups, and, while there are certainly African-American-based groups operating in what might be called the Ella Baker tradition, most of those groups have been largely white. The reasons are pretty obvious. Those lacking white privilege face much higher levels of state repression, and (unlike, in say, Mexico, or India, where those who face the most repression are generally speaking already organized in semi-autonomous communities that operate at least partly by consensus), in the US, this limits the degree to which it’s possible to engage in creating experimental spaces outside the system. Communities face immediate such practical concerns so pressing many feel working outside the system would be irresponsible. Those who don’t often feel they have no choice but to adopt either strict, rigorous, MLK-style non-violence, or adopt revolutionary militarism like the panthers—both of which tend to lead to top down forms of organization. As a result, the culture of consensus, the style in which it’s conducted, the sensibilities surrounding it, inevitably comes to reflect the white middle-class background of so many of those who have created and shaped it, and the result is that those who do not share these sensibilities feel alienated and excluded. Obviously this is something that urgently needs to be addressed. But the problem here is not with the principles underlying consensus (that all voices have equal weight, that no one be compelled to act against their will), but with the way it’s being done—and the fact that the way it’s being done have the effect of undermining those very principles.

2) RULES VERSUS PRINCIPLES

I think the real problem here is a misunderstanding about what we’re basically arguing about. A lot of people on both sides of the debate seem to think “consensus” is a set of rules. If you follow the rules, you’re doing consensus. If you break the rules, or even do them in the wrong order it’s somehow not. I’ve seen people show up to meetings armed with elaborate diagrams or flow-charts for some kind of formal process downloaded from some web page and insist that only this is the really real thing. So it’s hardly surprising that other people put off by all this, or who see that particular form of process hit some kind of loggerhead, say “well consensus doesn’t work. Let’s try something else.”

As far as I’m concerned both sides completely miss the point.

I’ll say it again. Consensus is not a set of rules. It’s a set of principles. Actually I’d even go so far to say that if you really boil it down, it ultimately comes down to just two principles: everyone should have equal say (call this “equality”), and nobody should be compelled to do anything they really don’t want to do (call this, “freedom.”)

Basically, that’s it. The rules are just a way to try to come to decisions in the spirit of those principles. “Formal consensus process,” in is various manifestations, is just one technique people have made up, over the years, to try to come to group decisions that solve practical problems in a way that ensures no one’s perspective is ignored, and no one is forced to do anything or comply with rules they find truly obnoxious. That’s it. It’s a way to find consensus. It’s not itself “consensus.” Formal process as it exists today has been proved to work pretty well for some kinds of people, under some circumstances. It is obviously completely inappropriate in others. To take an obvious example: most small groups of friends don’t need formal process at all. Other groups might, over time, develop a completely different approach that suits their own dynamics, relations, situation, culture, sensibilities. And there’s absolutely no reason any group can’t improvise an entirely new one if that’s what they want to do. As long as they are trying to create a process that embodies those basic principles, one that gives everyone equal say and doesn’t force anyone to go along with a decision they find fundamentally objectionable, then what they come up with is a form of consensus process—no matter how it operates. After all, it a group of people all decide they want to be bound by a majority decision, well, who exactly is going to stop them? But if they all decide to be bound by a majority decision, then they have reached a consensus (in fact, an absolute consensus) that they want to operate that way. The same would be true if they all decided they wanted to be bound by the decisions of a Ouija Board, or appointed one member of the group Il Duce. Who’s going to stop them? However, for the exact same reason, the moment the majority (or Ouija board, or Il Duce) comes up with a decision to do something that some people think is absolutely outrageous and refuse to do, how exactly is anyone going to force them to go along? Threaten to shoot them? Basically, it could only happen if the majority is somehow in control of some key resource—money, space, connections, a name—and others aren’t. That is, if there is some means of coercion, subtle or otherwise. In the absence of a way to compel people to do things they do not wish to do, you’re ultimately stuck with some kind of consensus whether you like it or not.

The question then is what kind of decision making process is most likely to lead to decisions that no one will object to so fundamentally that they will march off in frustration or simply refuse to cooperate? Sometimes that will be some sort of formal consensus process. In other circumstances that’s the last thing one should try. Still, there’s a reason that 51/49% majority voting is so rarely employed in such circumstances: usually, it is the method least likely to come up with such decisions.

Think of it this way.

Imagine the city is about to destroy some cherished landmark and someone puts up posters calling for people to meet in a nearby square to organize against it. Fifty people show up. Someone says, okay, “I propose we all lay down in front of the bulldozers. Let’s hold a vote.” So 30 people raised their hands yes, and 20 people raise their hands no. Well, what possible reason is there that the 20 people who said no would somehow feel obliged to now go and lay in front of the bulldozers? These were just 50 strangers gathered in a square. Why should the opinions of a majority of a group of strangers oblige the minority to do anything—let alone something which will expose them to personal danger?

The example might seem absurd—who would hold such a vote?—but I experienced something almost exactly like it a few years ago, at an “all-anarchist” meeting called in London before a mass mobilization against the G8. About 200 people showed up at the RampArts Social Center. The facilitator, a syndicalist who disliked consensus, explained that another group had proposed a march, followed by some kind of direct action, and immediately proceeded to hold a vote on whether we, as a group, wanted to join as. Oddly, it did not seem to occur to him that, since we were not in fact a group, but just a bunch of people who had showed up at a meeting, there was no reason to think that those who did not want to join such an action would be swayed by the result. In fact he wasn’t taking a vote at all. He was taking a poll: “how many people are thinking of joining the march?” Now, there’s nothing wrong with polls; arguably, the most helpful thing he could have done under the circumstance was to ask for a show of hands so everyone could see what other people were thinking. The results might even have changed some people’s minds—”well, it looks like a lot of people are going to that march, maybe I will too” (though in this case, in fact, it didn’t.) But the facilitator thought he was actually conducting a vote on what to do, as if they were somehow bound by the decision.

How could he have been so oblivious? Well, he was a syndicalist; unions use majority vote; that’s why he preferred it. But of course, unions are membership-based groups. If you join a union, you are, by the very act of doing so, agreeing to abide by its rules, which includes, accepting majority vote decisions. Those who do not follow the group’s rules can be sanctioned, or even expelled. It simply didn’t occur to him that most unions’ voting system depended on the prior existence of membership rolls, dues, charters, and usually, legal standing—which in effect meant that either everyone who had voluntarily joined the unions was in effect consenting to the rules, or else, if membership was obligatory in a certain shop or industry owing to some prior government-enforced agreement, was ultimately enforced by the power of the state. To act the same way when people had not consented to be bound by such a decision, and then expect them to follow the dictates of the majority anyway, is just going to annoy people and make them less, not more, likely to do so.

So let’s go back to Justine’s first example,

the first time I saw a block used at Occupy was at one of the first general assemblies in August 2011. There were about a hundred people that day and in the middle of the meeting a proposal was made to join Verizon workers on the picket line as a gesture of solidarity in the hope that they might also support us in return. People loved the idea and there was quite a bit of positive energy until one woman in the crowd, busy tweeting on her phone, casually raised her hand and said, “I block that”. The moderator, quite flabbergasted asked why she blocked and she explained that showing solidarity with workers would alienate the phantasm of our right-wing supporters. Discussion then abruptly ended and the meeting went on. The truth was irrelevant, popular opinion didn’t matter, and solidarity—the most important of all leftist values—was thrown to the wind based on the whims of just one individual. Occupy had to find a new way to do outreach.

Now, I was at this meeting, and I remember the event quite vividly because at the time I was one of the participants who was more than a little bit annoyed by the block. But I also know that this is simply not what happened.

First of all, as I remarked, OWS from the beginning did not have a system where just one person could block a proposal; in the event of a block, we had the option to fall back on a 2/3 majority vote. So if everyone had really loved the proposal, the block could have been simply brushed aside. While many felt the woman in question was being ridiculous (most of us suspected the “national movement” she claimed to represent didn’t really exist), the facilitator, when she asked if anyone felt the same way, was surprised to discover a significant contingent–some, but not all, insurrectionist anarchists–did in fact object to holding the next meeting at a picket line, since they didn’t want to immediately identify the movement with the institutional left. Once it became clear it was not just one crazy person, but a significant chunk of the meeting—probably not quite a third, but close (there weren’t really a hundred people there, incidentally; more like sixty)—she asked if anyone felt strongly that we should move to a vote, and no one insisted. Was this a terrible failure of process? I must admit at the time I found it exasperating. But in retrospect I realize that had we forced a vote, the results might well have been catastrophic. Because at that point we, too were just a bunch of people who’d all showed up in a park. We weren’t a “group” at all. Nobody had committed to anything; certainly, no one had committed to going along with a majority decision.

A block is not a “no” vote. It’s a veto. Or maybe a better way to put it is that giving everyone the power to block is like giving the power to take on the role of the Supreme Court, and stop a piece of legislation that they feel to be unconstitutional, to anyone who has the courage to stand up in front of the entire group and use it. When you block you are saying a proposal violates one of the group’s agreed-on common principles. Of course, in this case we didn’t have any agreed-on common principles. In cases like that, the usual rule of thumb is that you should only block if you feel so strongly about an issue that you’d actually leave the group. In this sense I suspect the initial blocker was indeed being irresponsible (she wouldn’t have really left; and many wouldn’t have mourned her if she had.) However, others felt strongly. Had we held a vote and decided to hold our next meeting at a picket line over their objections, many of them would likely not have shown up. The anti-authoritarian contingent would have been weakened. Had that happened, there was a real chance later decisions, much more important ones, might have gone the other way. I am thinking here in particular of the crucial decision, made some weeks later, not to appoint official marshals and police liaisons for September 17. Judging by the experience of other camps, had that happened, everything might have gone differently and the entire occupation failed. In retrospect, the loss of one early opportunity to create ties with striking unionists now seems a small price to pay for heading off on a road that might have led to that. Especially since we had no trouble establishing strong ties with unions later—precisely because we had succeeded in creating a real occupation in the park.

There are a lot of other issues that one could discuss. Above all, we desperately need to have a conversation about decentralization. Another point of confusion about consensus is the idea that it’s crucial to get approval from everyone about everything, which is again stifling and absurd. Consensus only works if working groups or collectives don’t feel they need to seek constant approval from the larger group, if initiative arises from below, and people only check upwards if there’s a genuinely compelling reason not to go ahead with some initiative without clearing it with everyone else. In a weird way, the very unwieldiness of consensus meetings is helpful here, since it can discourage people from taking trivial issues to a larger group, and thus potentially waste hours of everyone’s time.

But all this will no doubt will be hashed out in the discussions that are going on (another good rule of thumb for consensus meetings: you don’t need to say everything you can think to say if you’re pretty sure someone else will make a lot of the same points anyway). Mainly what I want to say is this:

Our power is in our principles. The power of Occupy has always been that it is an experiment in human freedom. That’s what inspired so many to join us. That’s what terrified the banks and politicians, who scrambled to do everything in their power—infiltration, disruption, propaganda, terror, violence—to be able to tell the word we’d failed, that they had proved a genuinely free society is impossible, that it would necessarily collapse into chaos, squalor, antagonism, violence, and dysfunction. We cannot allow them such a victory. The only way to fight back is to renew our absolute commitment to those principles. We will never compromise on equality and freedom. We will always base our relations to each other on those principles. We will not fall back on top-down structures and forms of decision making premised on the power of coercion. But as long as we do that, and if we really believe in those principles, that necessarily means being as open and flexible as we can about pretty much everything else.

Bem-vindos ao mundo dos adultos. Ou não? (Canal Ibase)

http://www.canalibase.org.br/bem-vindos-ao-mundo-dos-adultos-ou-nao/

11/03/2013

Renzo Taddei
Colunista do Canal Ibase

O texto abaixo é uma reflexão sobre o que significa hoje, em face às crises globais –  política, econômica e ambiental -, atravessar a fronteira que separa o mundo dos jovens do dos adultos. Foi escrito por ocasião de minha indicação a paraninfo da turma de formandos do curso de Comunicação Social da Universidade Federal do Rio de Janeiro, e lido em cerimônia de colação de grau, no dia 2 de março de 2013. O texto, no entanto, fala não apenas aos graduandos da referida turma, mas a todos os jovens que se acham de alguma forma interpelados pelas exigências do mundo adulto, interpelação esta que se dá na forma de pressão para que tais jovens se conformem e se adequem às estruturas e formas de organização social existentes. Por essa razão, decidi reproduzi-lo nesta coluna. O texto foi mantido tal qual foi apresentado.

 

Foto: adam.declercq/Flickr

Inicialmente não posso deixar de agradecer a minha indicação a paraninfo da turma, coisa que verdadeiramente me emocionou. Essa é a primeira vez que isso me acontece. E como seria de se esperar de um paraninfo de primeira viagem, fui pesquisar do que se trata. A rigor, o paraninfo é um padrinho ligado à identidade profissional dos formandos, alguém de quem se espera que diga algo no rito de passagem da formatura que seja ao mesmo tempo uma última aula – mas não exatamente, porque nesse momento vocês não são mais estudantes -, e que seja também o primeiro conselho profissional – mas não exatamente, porque nesse momento vocês ainda não estão formados. Vocês estão, nesse exato instante, em processo de transformação. Entraram nesse auditório como estudantes, e vão sair como bacharéis. Por isso a colação de grau é um rito de passagem: vocês saem diferentes do que entram, alguma coisa se transforma no processo. Nesse meu discurso, quero falar um pouco sobre isso que muda, que se transforma. E como isso se transforma, em que direção, pra onde vai.

Alguns de vocês certamente devem estar se perguntado se eu não vou simplesmente congratular os formandos e dizer que o Brasil precisa deles, que se esforcem para fazer desse um país melhor, que agora eles tem uma responsabilidade para com a sociedade, etc.– o discurso padrão, pré-formatado, disponível na Internet. Pois é, não vou. Isso seria perder o tempo de vocês e o meu. Se vocês me elegeram paraninfo – eu, que não sou jornalista, publicitário, editor, produtor, diretor, apresentador ou locutor; eu, que nem sequer sou professor das habilitações profissionais da Escola de Comunicação, mas ao invés disso sou um humilde professor de disciplina do ciclo básico, antropologia -, alguma razão deve haver. Nem que ela seja apenas certo gosto por viver perigosamente (dado que quem teve aula comigo sabe que eu tenho certa tendência a ser provocador e subversivo).

De qualquer forma, não posso evitar certo ponto de vista antropológico. Então, gostaria inicialmente de dizer que vocês são privilegiados. Já foram mais longe do que o Bill Gates e o Steve Jobs – ambos abandonaram os estudos universitários, e, portanto, não viveram esse rito de passagem que vocês vivem aqui hoje. Mas obviamente não é disso que quero falar. De certa forma, se há uma equivalência ou continuidade entre esse rito de passagem, a graduação universitária, e os ritos de passagem vividos por outras coletividades e grupos sociais, essa equivalência existe nos rituais nos quais um indivíduo passa a desempenhar, de forma integral, papéis de adulto. Esses são tradicionalmente chamados ritos de puberdade. “Mas a puberdade já passou faz tempo!”, vocês me dirão. Pois é aí mesmo onde reside o privilégio: entre deixar de ser criança e passar à condição de adulto, de forma integral, nossa civilização criou a adolescência, esse período que não acaba nunca, e onde tudo é mal definido, esquisito, tudo está de alguma forma fora do lugar, sem que se saiba exatamente o porquê. Em geral, a adolescência não existe nas culturas não ocidentais, e não existia no mundo ocidental até por volta da década de 1880. Na visão de muitos povos não ocidentais, o que nós ocidentais fazemos é infantilizar os indivíduos por quase uma década, e depois exigimos maturidade, como se ela surgisse num passe de mágica. Mas sabemos que as coisas entre nós não se dão exatamente dessa forma.

Ou seja, se vocês fossem índios – isto é, se não forem; quem sabe alguém aqui seja – já teriam passado pelo ritual que faz de alguém um adulto há muito tempo. Como vocês podem ver, não há qualquer relação entre ser adulto, no sentido que estou usando aqui, e uma determinada idade cronológica. Em algumas sociedades pode-se ganhar o status de adulto aos 7 anos; em outras,  como no mundo acadêmico em que eu vivo, por exemplo, a cidadania integral só se consegue com a obtenção do título de doutor, e a vida adulta raramente começa antes dos 30 anos. Tomemos então o conceito de adulto como equivalente a estar integrado de forma plena à ordem social vigente, às instituições centrais do meio social em que o indivíduo vive.

Voltando ao rito de passagem, um rito que funcione como tal não é apenas uma formalidade. Ele opera uma certa mágica, algo que efetivamente transforma quem por ele passa. A famosa frase “eu vos declaro marido e mulher”, ou a temida “eu declaro o réu culpado”, tem o poder de operar uma transformação real na identidade do sujeito; transformação que não ocorreria sem a existência do rito. Infelizmente, grande parte dos nossos ritos se burocratizou. O que os exemplos antropológicos mostram é que os ritos de passagem mais eficazes são aqueles em que o simbolismo associado à transformação da identidade é vivido materialmente, através de objetos capazes de grande mobilização emocional – como a hóstia, as alianças, o anel de formatura, o diploma, os trajes especiais -, e mais ainda quando essa materialidade é vivida no corpo – como as distintas formas de circuncisão, as escarificações (a produção de cicatrizes), tatuagens específicas, o corte dos cabelos, os estados de transe e outras práticas que envolvem alguma forma de dor. Numa conhecida prática que é parte do ritual de puberdade dos índios Maués e de outras tribos amazônicas, por exemplo, os jovens são levados a inserir uma das mãos em uma luva cheia de formigas tucandeiras, e devem suportar, por 15 minutos, a dor das ferroadas. Em nossa sociedade há muitos rituais que deixam marcas no corpo e que envolvem sofrimento: sem mencionar o “pede pra sair” do Capitão Nascimento, outro exemplo talvez igualmente chocante – pra quem não é da nossa tribo, obviamente – é o fato de que muita gente acha que antes de aparecer nas fotos de celebrações como essa, é preciso deformar o corpo de alguma forma: suando muito nas academias, submetendo-se a dietas alimentares agressivas, e até a cirurgias plásticas. Perto disso tudo, a monografia de graduação parece moleza.

Mas qual a necessidade disso tudo? Por que a transição à vida adulta não ocorre de forma gradual, sem que um ritual marque o momento, produzindo uma singularidade no transcorrer da vida que desordena e reordena as coisas? Num texto publicado há alguns anos no Brasil, Levi-Strauss narra e analisa um fato ocorrido na cidade de Dijon, França, no ano de 1951, que pode nos ajudar a entender essa questão. Mais precisamente no dia 24 de dezembro daquele ano, padres promoveram o enforcamento da figura do Papai Noel, que posteriormente foi queimado, em frente à catedral da cidade. A acusação: paganizar o Natal. No dia seguinte, o velhinho foi ressuscitado pela prefeitura da cidade, e apareceu no topo do prédio do governo municipal, falando às crianças, como fazia tradicionalmente. Essa sequência de eventos naturalmente gerou um intenso debate, que se espalhou por toda a França. Na opinião de Levi-Strauss, no entanto, mais importante do que discutir se se deve dar cabo ou não do Papai Noel, ou porque as crianças gostam tanto dele, é tentar entender por que é que os adultos o criaram, em primeiro lugar. Afinal, o Papai Noel não é invenção das crianças; estas são levadas a acreditar nele, por influência direta dos adultos. A resposta é bastante óbvia: o Papai Noel é um instrumento através do qual os adultos exercem controle sobre as crianças. “Só ganha presente quem se comportar bem, deitar-se quando mandado, comer tudo”. Levi-Strauss segue adiante para mostrar que os dados antropológicos são abundantes em relação ao fato de que os adultos temem as crianças, ou os não-ainda-plenamente-adultos.

E por que é que os adultos temem as crianças e os jovens, os não-ainda-plenamente-adultos? Porque esses têm o poder de bagunçar a vida adulta, desorganizar a ordem estabelecida, são subversivos por natureza – e, em muitas tradições, inclusive a nossa, isso literalmente é entendido como uma questão de natureza, em oposição à sociedade: as crianças são parte do mundo da natureza, mundo esse que é ao mesmo tempo uma ameaça ao mundo social, essencialmente dos adultos (e, frequentemente, dos homens), e precisa ser conquistado por este. Esse medo resulta na criação de personagens como o Papai Noel e o bicho papão, apenas para mencionar dois exemplos mais familiares; resulta também na necessidade de submeter os ainda-não-adultos a ritos de passagem psicologicamente intensos, de modo a construir, através do rito, um novo adulto, desnaturalizado e socializado.

E aqui estamos chegando ao que interessa. O que eu acabo de dizer é que todo ritual tem um duplo efeito: por um lado, transforma a identidade de quem passa por ele, de modo que o indivíduo interiorize os valores da sociedade e localize-se, de forma produtiva, nela; por outro, o ritual promove a ratificação dos poderes instituídos, o reforço das estruturas de poder, do status quo. Nesse mesmo ritual que vivemos aqui, no momento em que cada um de vocês ganha a credencial de bacharel, renova-se a sacralidade da universidade enquanto poder instituído legitimamente, com autoridade para traçar a linha dos que têm e dos que não têm acesso aos privilégios trazidos por tal credencial. Renova-se também a sacralidade da autoridade dos professores – vejam só como estamos em posições espaciais diferentes aqui hoje, vocês mais embaixo, os professores mais acima, vocês aqui para receber algo, os professores para dar algo. O mesmo ocorre num tribunal, em uma cerimônia de casamento ou em um batismo: ao mesmo tempo em que alguém é condenado ou absolvido, ou casado, ou batizado, é reforçado o poder do Estado ou da instituição religiosa.

Até aqui, tudo certo: não é difícil encontrar livro de introdução à antropologia que diga, ou pelo menos dê a entender, que as sociedades sempre se organizaram dessa forma, de modo que esse é um fato da realidade. O problema é que, na minha visão, isso existe em contradição com a ideia, tão repetida em discursos de paraninfo mundo afora, de que os formandos devem contribuir na construção de um mundo melhor. Trata-se de um problema de incompatibilidade entre forma e conteúdo: falar em mudanças, ou seja, na construção de um mundo melhor, num ritual que promove a reprodução das coisas como elas são, que coopta mentes e corações jovens e os coloca no centro das estruturas sociais que criaram e mantém em funcionamento o mundo que se pretende mudar. Talvez, se vivêssemos em um mundo com problemas menores, precisando de pequenas reformas aqui e ali, mas no qual o estado geral da vida fosse o de plenitude e alegria, esse fosse o caso.

Mas não há nada mais radicalmente oposto à realidade na qual nos encontramos. O mundo não precisa de pequenas reformas; os problemas da atualidade são estruturais e profundos. Aproveitando que estamos aqui, no Centro de Tecnologia, coração da engenharia da UFRJ, eu diria que, se perguntarmos a um engenheiro civil o que se deve fazer com um edifício com problemas estruturais profundos, ele diria: é preciso demolir o edifício, e fazer outro, sobre base mais sólida, com estrutura mais adequada. Mas quais são esses problemas, tão sérios, no mundo em que vivemos? Eu certamente não precisaria (nem conseguiria, se quisesse) listar os problemas que temos diante de nós, dado o fato de que vocês talvez estejam entre as pessoas mais bem informadas do planeta. Mas permitam-me citar apenas alguns, de modo a colocar recheio no argumento que estou construindo aqui. O mundo vive, já há cinco anos, uma crise econômica global sem precedentes, crise na qual ficou claro o quanto os Estados nacionais funcionam para manter o mercado mundial em funcionamento, atendendo a interesses das grandes corporações, e em detrimento de suas próprias populações (basta analisar a relação entre governos, bancos e a população, em países como os Estados Unidos, Inglaterra, Itália e Espanha, para se ver isso com clareza; ou a relação entre governos, empreiteiras, mineradoras e a população, no caso do Brasil).

Além disso, o mundo vive há pelo menos trinta anos uma crise ambiental sem precedentes, e continuamos ouvindo dos governos americano e chinês a mensagem de que sua produção econômica no curto prazo é mais importante do que a vida no planeta no futuro. Isso dá certo alívio ao governo brasileiro, que pode apenas entrar no vácuo dos gigantes americano e chinês, sem ter que declarar explicitamente que tem a mesma posição. Ao mesmo tempo, vemos grande parte da Europa trabalhando na transição de suas matrizes energéticas em direção a fontes de energia que não agridem os ecossistemas locais (como a energia solar; detalhe que não estou falando de energias supostamente “limpas”, mas das que não agridem os ecossistemas. As hidrelétricas, por exemplo, não apenas são grandes agressoras dos ecossistemas, como alimentam a perversão política que é o papel das grandes empreiteiras no financiamento das campanhas políticas nesse país); enquanto isso o Brasil trabalha para tornar-se o sexto maior produtor de petróleo do mundo! Nada como ser capaz de mobilizar um time excelente de publicitários para ser capaz de andar na contramão do bom senso e ainda ter apoio popular. E some-se a isso tudo o fato de que no Brasil, os 20% mais ricos detém 60% de toda a riqueza nacional; metade da população economicamente ativa, mais de 50 milhões de pessoas, trabalha de sol a sol para o enriquecimento de duas ou três centenas de famílias.

E eu nem mencionei a política. Alguém acha que as estruturas políticas brasileiras funcionam bem? Ninguém sabe, porque ninguém sabe como elas funcionam!

Enfim, esse é o mundo dos adultos em que vocês são, agora, admitidos de forma integral. Não é de se estranhar que um bocado de gente jovem resista a esse processo, muitas vezes entendido, literalmente, como um processo ilegítimo de cooptação. O mundo dos adultos – ou seja, do status quo, das instituições de poder que nos trouxeram até aqui – está moralmente falido. Construir um mundo melhor, em qualquer sentido que não seja apenas a reprodução de retórica vazia, é tarefa necessária, mas que não vai deixar os adultos felizes. Ou seja, para que os jovens efetivamente construam um mundo melhor, o que se vislumbra não é a paz entre adultos e jovens, paz supostamente produzida pelos ritos de passagem mencionados por mim anteriormente; ao invés disso, o que se pode esperar é a espada, para usar termos bíblicos.

E, vejam só, não estou falando de algo – jovens comprometidos com a criação de um mundo melhor – que não esteja, já, acontecendo: a única novidade política interessante, na última década, é a novidade produzida por movimentos jovens, em reação à falência moral e material do mundo dos adultos: estou me referindo aos muitos movimentos de ocupação, como o Occupy Wall Street, que se multiplicou e se espalhou pelo mundo todo; às manifestações juvenis contra os partidos do status quo no México (o PAN e o PRI), além do movimento zapatista no estado de Chiapas; ao movimento Idle no More no Canadá, que, como o movimento zapatista, uniu a juventude às lideranças indígenas locais; ao 15-M, na Espanha; à participação dos jovens nos eventos ligados à chamada Primavera Árabe; à importância da Cúpula dos Povos, na Rio+20, onde se articularam ações políticas mais interessantes que a prevista paralisia política dos diplomatas que participaram da reunião oficial. Ainda no Brasil, está claro que podemos, através de movimentos descentralizados, combinando manifestações públicas e petições pela Internet, forçar o governo a ações específicas, como ocorreu no movimento em apoio aos índios Guarani Kaiowá do Mato Grosso do Sul.

Ou seja, a boa novidade é que não é necessário inventar as soluções e ferramentas para um mundo melhor a partir do zero; muitas coisas interessantes já estão em movimento. Basta que vocês sejam conscientes e autônomos para decidir como vão se posicionar no mundo. Achar que as sociedades sempre se organizaram integrando os jovens às estruturas existentes, e que, portanto, não há nada a fazer a esse respeito, é discurso dos que tem interesse em manter os jovens sob controle, ou seja, é discurso de quem efetivamente tem medo dos jovens – porque tem algo a perder com qualquer mudança no status quo.

“Mas esses movimentos que você mencionou não foram capazes de se constituir como alternativa política efetiva!”, dirão alguns. Esse tipo de afirmação revela, por parte de quem a enuncia, a dificuldade em pensar um mundo efetivamente diferente; é como se a única política possível é aquela que toma o poder, e não aquela que transforma o próprio poder em alguma outra coisa. O que é radicalmente interessante nesses movimentos jovens é a recusa que têm em querer tomar as estruturas de poder existentes. O poder, da forma que este se constitui e manifesta no âmago das sociedades ocidentais, é herança do mundo adulto falido, que a juventude não quer. O que os movimentos juvenis querem é construir um outro mundo, um outro poder, um  mundo que, inclusive, não está predefinido, não existe ainda – e tais jovens não tem medo de viver em incerteza e ambiguidade, posto que estas são marcas de todo momento de transição. Isso, aliás, é uma das coisas que gera ansiedade no mundo dos adultos, porque pode desorganizar o processo através do qual Estados e corporações criam riscos, incutem nas pessoas níveis elevados de medo, e apresentam-se, então, como protetores. Como a história não cansa de mostrar, gente sem medo é um atentado à soberania de Estados fundados no medo.

Enfim, o que eu estou propondo aqui não é que todos rejeitem esse ritual, que desistam do título de bacharel, mas, ao invés disso, que vocês tomem controle sobre a mágica do ritual. Que o título de bacharel não seja uma forma de anular a sua capacidade de efetivamente transformar o mundo, mesmo que à revelia do que querem seus pais, professores, patrões, médicos, juízes, o Estado. Ao contrário, que vocês, ao invés de serem vítimas do título de bacharel, ou seja, de terem que se transformar para caber na persona social com direito oficialmente ratificado de usá-lo, tomem para si a missão de definir o que será ser bacharel, em suas vidas, e na sociedade que irão criar.

Ou seja, e para finalizar, o que eu quero propor de forma substantiva aqui são duas coisas, que considero fundamentais para que vocês estejam preparados para participar na criação de um mundo efetivamente, e não apenas retoricamente, melhor. A primeira é: não acreditem em identidades. Ou, pelo menos, não sejam vítimas delas. Nunca se deixem reduzir a uma ou a um número restrito de possibilidade de ser e estar no mundo: vocês nunca serão apenas jornalistas, publicitários, editores, produtores, diretores, apresentadores ou locutores. Vocês sempre serão muito mais do que isso. As identidades têm o potencial de se transformar em uma forma de tirania, de fascismo, mesmo quando isso se manifesta na forma de conflitos psicológicos internos ao indivíduo. Cada um de vocês não é um, são muitos. As possibilidades para o futuro são infinitas; nunca se deixem convencer, com ou sem rito de passagem, do contrário.

O segundo conselho: não vivam com medo. Do Papai Noel e bicho papão em diante, o mundo adulto administra quem pode efetivamente transformar a sociedade usando o medo. O medo é paralisante, algo que não convém quando o objetivo é mudar algo, e muito menos quando se quer mudar algo grande, como o mundo. A obra de construir um mundo melhor passa, necessariamente, pela desarticulação da grande burocracia do medo que nos controla a todos. Nesse sentido, o trabalho de vocês não será fácil, dado que tal burocracia tem na mídia uma de suas principais ferramentas.

Uma decorrência prática destes dois conselhos – não se deixar levar pela ilusão das identidades ou pelo discurso paralisante do medo -, é que vocês devem estar prontos para enfrentar resistência. Ou seja, não é possível querer mudar o mundo e, ainda assim, viver buscando aplausos; quem efetivamente mudou o mundo, no passado, enfrentou desafios homéricos. A boa notícia é que ninguém mais precisa ser um Ulisses ou um Aquiles; ninguém está sozinho, o movimento já está em curso, e, como diz um dos seus principais expoentes, “somos legião”. Basta a cada um escolher como irá participar: como agente, participante efetivo, ou como observador distante, alguém que, mais tarde, será inevitavelmente arrastado pela corrente.

Sismógrafos inaudibles de sociedades cambiantes (Afkar/Ideas)

Driss Ksikes – Afkar / Ideas 34 – /06/2012

La escena artística árabe rebosa de experiencias marginales, erigidas en torno a una idea simple: devolver el arte al corazón de la ciudad, para liberarla de politicastros.

Louis Ferdinand Céline los denomina “los perros nobles”. Se refiere a esas criaturas robustas que tiran de los trineos en el Polo Norte, las únicas capaces de oler a 20 leguas una zanja oculta bajo la superficie glacial aparentemente dura y plana. Por su parte, Edgar Morin habla de “topos” (no en el sentido de agentes secretos), tan enclavados en el propio suelo que notan las sacudidas, apenas perceptibles, sordas, que se producen a lo lejos. Estas metáforas animales subrayan la hipersensibilidad de unos seres que sienten la insidia en la distancia, intuitivamente, sin ninguna ciencia ni modelo de racionalidad reconocible y transmisible a los demás. Es del todo posible, si pensamos en la literatura telúrica del gran poeta marroquí –y sobre todo en sus textos, Agadir y Le déterreur–, hablar de sismógrafos que detectan, mucho antes que los demás, la próxima sacudida social, política, colectiva, que se avecina.

Los antiexpertos

Con ocasión del 2011 árabe, he leído muchos artículos que dan vueltas y más vueltas a la misma letanía: “No vimos venir nada”. Es innegable que los llamados “expertos”, acostumbrados a clasificar la realidad y formatearla en cómodos recuadros de lectura no han hecho precisamente gala de una lucidez excepcional. Los hay que llegaron a errar completamente el tiro, al prever una resistencia donde el derrocamiento de un rais era casi inminente (muy especialmente en el caso de arabistas y otros orientalistas que se expresaron antes de la caída de Hosni Mubarak, negando cualquier similitud entre El Cairo y Túnez). Al basar sus lecturas en los movimientos políticos visibles o en las interacciones geopolíticas, les faltó una perspectiva sociológica y antropológica para ver lo que se tramaba en los intersticios de nuestras sociedades. Hubo artistas y escritores que, libres de los cánones de la ciencia, tuvieron más clarividencia. Sin pretender otorgarles la categoría de adivinos, en este artículo propongo un breve repaso a tres “sismógrafos” prácticamente inaudibles para la multitud, que vislumbraron una nueva pauta o quisieron tomar el pulso a una era agitada.

Un regicidio en escena

Empecemos por Fadhel Yaibi, director y dramaturgo tunecino que, en cuatro décadas, se ha impuesto como uno de los creadores iconoclastas más atinados de la sociedad árabe. En 2010, ya fuera por un arranque de lucidez o por casualidad sincrónica, alumbró, con la complicidad de Yalila Baccar, una obra premonitoria, Amnesia. Un dictador, Yahya Yaich, adulado y alabado por sus cortesanos, se viene abajo y es objeto de humillaciones y torturas en un hospital psiquiátrico, rodeado de sus perros guardianes, transformados en carroñeros. Hasta llegan a rogarle, cuando corre a coger el avión, que dé media vuelta. La obra, representada meses antes de la marcha de Ben Alí, gozó de un gran éxito, sobre todo por su fuerza estética y por revelar, por medio del arte, un hartazgo generalizado. Su extrema afabilidad impide al sismógrafo tunecino, Yaibi, atribuirse ningún rol que no sea el de artista, entremetido, escéptico, humanista, sensible a lo que se cuece en su entorno, deseoso de mostrar otra faceta de los acontecimientos. La de una realidad política insoportable sublimada por un regicidio en escena es necesariamente imperceptible para los estrategas e inaudible para las instituciones, incluso académicas, que subestiman la inteligencia emocional. No obstante, nos remite a algo que cada vez más pensadores, como Bruno Latour, consideran urgente: la reconexión del arte con la política, no como su valedor, sino para tener presente que el arte es en esencia un acto político, bello por su gratuidad, su altruismo y, sobre todo, por su resonancia social, más allá de los muros convencionales del establishment.

Contra el patriotismo de los ‘secretas’

En Egipto se ha impuesto otra figura, a través de textos y otros medios, en la vida literaria cairota, hasta el punto de considerarla uno de los amuletos de la revuelta de la plaza Tahrir. Me refiero al novelista Alaa el Aswany. Tras su superventas, El edificio Yacobián, pasando por Chicago, el dentista y escritor tardío destaca por su aversión al patriotismo de “los secretas” y al islamismo literal que encorsetan a la sociedad egipcia. En 2010, toma carrerilla y publica una serie de relatos cortos de título provocador, ¿Por qué los egipcios no se rebelan? Al explicar lo poco que tardó en desprenderse del dogmatismo marxista sin enterrar a Marx, deconstruye el molde identitario que mantiene a un pueblo sometido a su dictador. Cliente habitual de El Cairo, un café literario muy querido, El Aswany pudo, en los dos años previos a la revolución, afincarse como humanista contestatario, como autor escuchado y ampliamente citado. En Tahrir, tuvo el papel del sabio a quien acuden jóvenes desorientados. Inspirado en las cinco fases de caída del dictador predichas por Gabriel García Márquez (negación, patriotismo de recuperación, concesiones a medias, confesión tipo “os he entendido” y huida), fue capaz de convencerlos de que, aunque pretendiera resistir, Mubarak acabaría escapando. Está claro que la conciencia de este hombre honesto tuvo más peso que centenares de informes de desarrollo humano que, aun tocando a muerto, no calaban en los actores. Ahí reside también la fuerza de un sismógrafo, en su proximidad al terreno, tan alejado de los burócratas.

Zonas Temporalmente Autónomas

El rasgo que comparten estas experiencias es, sin duda, la subversión. Como en tiempos de la generación beat en Estados Unidos, donde nacieron las Zonas Temporalmente Autónomas, hace años que la escena artística árabe rebosa de experiencias, marginales, erigidas en torno a una idea simple: devolver el arte al corazón de la ciudad, para liberarla de politicastros. El sublime escritor alemán Friedrich Hölderlin lo llamaba “hacer el mundo poéticamente habitable”. Tras esta utopía, hay dos experiencias dignas de mención. La primera, alumbrada en Túnez en 2008, se llama Dream city. No se trata de arte callejero, sino de la calle puesta a disposición de los artistas. Por espacio de una semana, la ciudadanía se enfrenta a lo imprevisible, lo improbable, para vivir de otra manera en sus espacios cerrados. Fue una de esas raras ocasiones, inesperadas en la época de Ben Ali, en que el pueblo se reunía y dialogaba libremente.

La segunda experiencia, DABATEATR ciudadano, vio la luz en Rabat en 2009. En ella, el teatro se retoma como lugar público de controversia. Se revisitan las distintas artes, para devolver al público a la raíz del cuestionamiento ciudadano. Y la dramaturgia revisa la actualidad para sacar a relucir la universalidad que anida en las noticias. Antes de su nacimiento, los activistas del Movimiento 20 de Febrero se encontraban de algún modo en este espacio, discutiendo libremente entre blogueros. No hizo falta gritar mucho para que surgiera la ola de indignación.

Estas experiencias insólitas, singulares, pero escasas, no emergen ni en la universidad ni en lugares convencionales. Son fruto de las tentativas y de la experimentación de artistas que siguen conectados a la realidad sin perder de vista la utopía.

Occupy, Anthropology, and the 2011 Global Uprisings (Cultural Anthropology)

Hot spot – Occupy, Anthropology, and the 2011 Global Uprisings

Submitted by Cultural Anthropology on Fri, 2012-07-27 10:36

Introduction: Occupy, Anthropology, and the 2011 Global Uprisings

Guest Edited by Jeffrey S. Juris (Northeastern University) and Maple Razsa (Colby College)

Occupy Wall Street burst spectacularly onto the scene last fall with the take-over of New York City’s Zuccotti Park on September 17, 2011, followed by the rapid spread of occupations to cities throughout the US and the world. The movement combined mass occupations of urban public spaces with horizontal forms of organization and large-scale, directly democratic assemblies. Making effective use of the viral flows of images and information generated by the intersections of social and mass media, the occupations mobilized tens of thousands around the globe, including many new activists who had never taken part in a mass movement before, and inspired many more beyond the physical encampments themselves. Before the wave of violent police evictions in November and December of 2011 drove activists into submerged forms of organizing through the winter, the Occupy movements had already captured the public imagination. Bequeathing to us potent new memes such as the 1% (those at the top of the wealth and income scale) and the 99% (the rest of us), Occupy provided a framework for talking about issues that have been long obscured in public life such as class and socio-economic inequality and helped to shift the dominant political-economic discourse from an obsession with budget deficits and austerity to a countervailing concern for jobs, equality, and economic fairness.

In other words, prior to Occupy, much of the populist anger stemming from the 2008 financial crisis in North America and Europe had been effectively channeled by the Right into both an attack on marginalized groups—e.g. immigrants, people of color, Gays and Lesbians—and a particularly pernicious version of the already familiar critique of unbridled spending. This was especially so in the US where the Tea Party tapped into the widespread public ire over the Wall Street bailouts to bolster a far-reaching attack on “big government” through a radical program of fiscal austerity. Of course, the debt problem was a consequence rather than a cause of the crisis, the result of deregulation, predatory lending, and the spread of highly complex financial instruments facilitated by the neoliberal agenda of the very people who were now seeking to impose budgetary discipline (see Financial Crisis Hot Spot).

However, the contributions of Occupy are not exclusively, or even primarily, to be assessed in terms of their intervention in public discourse. The Occupy movements are also a response to a fundamental crisis of representative politics embodied in an embrace of more radical, directly democratic practices and forms. In their commitment to direct democracy and action the politics put into practice in the various encampments are also innovative prefigurative attempts to model alternative forms of political organization, decision making, and sociability. This turn is crucial: while neoliberalism has been endlessly critiqued it seems to live on as the only policy response—in the form of austerity—to the crisis neoliberalism itself has produced. The need for ethnographic accounts of this prefigurative politics, and its attendant challenges and contradictions, is especially urgent given that Occupy has refused official representatives and because occupiers have extended democracy beyond formal institutions into new spheres of life through a range of practices, including the collective seizure of public space, the people’s mic, horizontal organization, hand signals, and general assemblies.

It is also important to remember that Occupy was a relative latecomer—if a symbolically important one—to the social unrest the global crisis and policies of austerity have provoked. Cracks in the veneer of conformity emerged during the 2008 rebellion in Greece, where students, union members, and other social actors, galvanized by the murder of a fifteen year old student, took to the streets to challenge the worsening economic conditions (See Greece Hot Spot). Students were also among the first wave of resistance elsewhere with protests against budget cuts and increased fees in California, Croatia, the UK, and Chile. In the US signs of wider social discontent finally surfaced during the Wisconsin uprising in February 2011, which included the occupation of the Wisconsin State House in opposition to Governor Scott Walker’s attack on collective bargaining for public sector unions under the guise of budgetary discipline (cf. Collins 2012). As in Wisconsin, the widespread circulation of images from the Arab Spring continued to spark the intense feelings of solidarity, political possibility, and agency that ultimately led to the occupation of Wall Street. From the pro-democracy marches in Tunisia in response to the self-immolation of Mohammed Bouazizi to the mass occupations of Cairo’s Tahrir Square in opposition to the Egyptian dictator Hosni Mubarak, the Middle East uprisings, imbued protesters with the sense that dramatic political transformation was possible even as subsequent events have indicated that actual political outcomes are always ambivalent and uncertain (see Arab Spring Hot Spot).

Inspired by the uprisings in Tunisia and Egypt and responding to the working and middle class casualties of Spain and Europe’s debt crisis, hundreds of thousands of protesters took to the streets of Madrid on May 15, 2011 and occupied the Puerta del Sol square, sparking a wave of similar mobilizations and encampments around the Spain that would become known as 15M or the movement of the Indignados. Indeed, the combination of mass public occupations with large-scale participatory assemblies provided a template that would be enacted in Zuccotti Park, in part via the influence of Spanish activists residing in New York. That summer a similar movement of Israeli youths sprang up in Tel Aviv, using tent cities and popular assemblies to shine a light on the rising cost of housing and other living expenses.

Finally, in response to an August 2011 call by the Canadian magazine AdBusters to occupy Wall Street in the spirit of these 2011 Global uprisings, activists occupied Zuccotti Park after being rebuffed by the police in an attempt to take Wall Street itself. The occupation initially garnered little media attention, until its second week when images of police repression started going viral, leading to a surge in public sympathy and support, and ever growing numbers streaming to the encampments themselves each time another protester was maced or a group of seemingly innocent protesters rounded up, beaten, and/or arrested. Occupations quickly spread around the US and other parts of the world, generating, for a moment, a proliferating series of encampments physically rooted in local territories, yet linked up with other occupations through interpersonal and online trans-local networks. Following the evictions in the US last fall, local assemblies and working groups have continued to meet—hosting discussions, planning actions and campaigns, producing media, and building and modifying organizational forms—even as the Occupy movements prepared for their public reemergence in the spring through mobilizations such as the May Day protests and mass direct actions against NATO in Chicago and the European Central Bank in Frankfurt.

Additionally, each of these uprisings has diffused through the widespread use of social media, reflecting the mutually constitutive nature of embodied and online protest. The use of social media, in particular, has allowed the Occupy movements, as in other recent mobilizations, to penetrate deeply into the social fabric and mobilize many newcomers who have never been active before in social movements. At the same time, these emerging “logics of aggregation” within the Occupy movements have resulted in a more individualized mode of participation and a form of movement that is more singularizing (e.g. the way the 99% frame can obscure internal differences) and more dependent on the long-term occupation of public space than other recent movements (Juris 2012). A particular set of tensions and strategic dilemmas have thus plagued the Occupy movements, including a divide between newer and more seasoned activists, the difficulty of recognizing and negotiating internal differences, a lack of common political and organizational principles beyond the General Assembly model, and the difficulty of transitioning to new tactics, strategies, visions, and structures in a post-eviction era. In short, activists are now faced with fundamental questions about how to build a movement capable of actually transforming the deep inequalities they have attempted to address.

In assembling this Hot Spot on Occupy we have invited contributions from anthropologists, ethnographers, and activists writing on the above themes: the mass occupation of public spaces, directly democratic practices and forms, the use of social media, the emotions and emerging subjectivities of protest, as well as the underlying political critiques and contradictions that have arisen in the movement. Similarly, in light of the global history we outline above, the range of other social movement responses to the current global economic crisis, as well as the ongoing links between struggles in the US, Europe, Latin America, and North Africa, we have been careful to include contributors conducting research beyond the US in countries such as Greece, Slovenia, Spain, Israel, Argentina, Egypt, and Canada. In so doing, we insist that Occupy must be understood in a global rather than a populist US-centric framework.

Our collaboration on this Hot Spot—which emerged from conversations around our articles on Occupy in the May 2012 edition ofAmerican Ethnologist (Juris 2012Razsa and Kurnik 2012)—also reflects our scholarly and political commitments, as well as those of our contributors. First, it was our priority to invite scholars and activists who are directly involved with these movements rather than adding to the abundant armchair punditry on Occupy. These contributions also reflect recent trends in anthropology with respect to the growing practice of activist research, militant ethnography, public anthropology, and other forms of politically committed ethnographic research, which are taking increasingly institutionalized forms with Cultural Anthropology “Hot Spots”like this one, “Public Anthropology Reviews” in American Anthropologist, recent interventions in American Ethnologist on Egypt, Wisconsin, and Occupy, as well as Current Anthropology “Current Applications.”

In addition to providing an ethnographically and analytically informed view of and from various occupations and kindred mobilizations, this Hot Spot thus provides another example of how anthropologists are making themselves politically relevant and are engaging issues of broad public concern. Given these shifts, together with the progressive inclinations of many anthropologists and the ubiquity and inherent interest of Occupy, it should come as no surprise that so many anthropologists and ethnographers from related fields, including those within and outside the academy, have played key roles in the Occupy movements and their precursors in countries such as Greece and Spain. Indeed, in their post Carles Feixa and his collaboratorsrefer to anthropologists as the “organic intellectuals” of the 15 M movement. As many of the contributions to this Hot Spot attest, a similar case might be made for the role of activist anthropologists within Occupy more generally.

As the contributions below make clear, our emphasis on participatory and politically committed research does not imply a romanticization of resistance or a refusal to confront the contradictions, limits, and exclusions of social movements, especially along axes of class, race, gender, sexuality, and citizenship. Given the disproportionate, though by no means exclusively White, middle class participation in the US Occupy movements, such critical perspectives are essential. Each of the following entries thus combines thick ethnographic description on the part of anthropologists, ethnographers, and activists who have been directly involved in the Occupy movements or other instances of mobilization during the 2011 global uprisings—either through engagement with one more encampments and/or the themes addressed by Occupy—with critical analysis of one or more of the issues outlined above.

NOTES

[1] Occupy has thus addressed many of the same themes and drawn on many of the organizational practices associated with the global justice movements of a previous era, even as it has resonated more strongly with domestic national contexts of the Global north.

[2] The people’s mic is a form of voice amplification whereby everyone in listening distance repeats a speaker’s words so that others situated further away can also hear (See Garces, this Hot Spot).

[3] For example, in the U.S. local encampments created “Inter-Occupy” groups maintain ties with other occupations, while twitter feeds, listservs, websites, and other digital tools were used to communicate and coordinate more broadly. See our digital resources page for additional links.

REFERENCES

Collins, Jane. 2012. “Theorizing Wisconsin’s 2011 Protests: Community-Based Unionism Confronts Accumulation by Dispossession.” American Ethnologist 39 (1):6–20.

Juris, Jeffrey. 2012. “Reflections on #Occupy Everywhere: Social Media, Public Space, and Emerging Logics of Aggregation.”American Ethnologist 39 (2):259-279.

Razsa, Maple and Andrej Kurnik. 2012. “The Occupy Movement in Žižek’s Hometown: Direct Democracy and a Politics of Becoming.” American Ethnologist 39 (2):238-258.

***ESSAYS***

Prefigurative Politics

Marianne Maeckelbergh, Horizontal Decision-Making across Time and Place

Chris Garces, People’s Mic and ‘Leaderful’ Charisma

Philip Cartelli, Trying to Occupy Harvard

Public Space

Zoltán Glück, Between Wall Street and Zuccotti: Occupy and the Scale of Politics

Carles Feixa, et al., The #spanishrevolution and Beyond

Dimitris Dalakoglou,  The Movement and the “Movement” of Syntagma Square

Experience and Subjectivity

Jeffrey S. Juris, The 99% and the Production of Insurgent Subjectivity

Diane Nelson, et al., Her earliest leaf’s a flower…

Maple Razsa, The Subjective Turn: The Radicalization of Personal Experience within Occupy Slovenia

Marina Sitrin, Occupy Trust: The Role of Emotion in the New Movements

Strategy and Tactics

David Graeber, Occupy Wall Street rediscovers the radical imagination

Kate Griffiths-Dingani, May Day, Precarity, Affective Labor, and the General Strike

Angelique Haugerud, Humor and Occupy Wall Street

Karen Ho, Occupy Finance and the Paradox/Possibilities of Productivity

Social Media

Alice Mattoni, Beyond Celebration: Toward a More Nuanced Assessment of Facebook’s Role in Occupy Wall Street

John Postill, Participatory Media Research and Spain’s 15M Movement

Critical Perspectives

Yvonne Yen Liu, Decolonizing the Occupy Movement

Manissa McCleave Maharawal, Fieldnotes on Union Square, Anti-Oppression, and Occupy

Uri Gordon, Israel’s “Tent Protests:” A Domesticated Mobilization

Alex Khasnabish, Occupy Nova Scotia: The Symbolism and Politics of Space

Anarchists attack science (Nature)

Armed extremists are targeting nuclear and nanotechnology workers.

Leigh Phillips
28 May 2012

Investigations of the shooting of nuclear-engineering head Roberto Adinolfi have confirmed the involvement of an eco-anarchist group. P. RATTINI/AFP/GETTY

A loose coalition of eco-anarchist groups is increasingly launching violent attacks on scientists.

A group calling itself the Olga Cell of the Informal Anarchist Federation International Revolutionary Front has claimed responsibility for the non-fatal shooting of a nuclear-engineering executive on 7 May in Genoa, Italy. The same group sent a letter bomb to a Swiss pro-nuclear lobby group in 2011; attempted to bomb IBM’s nanotechnology laboratory in Switzerland in 2010; and has ties with a group responsible for at least four bomb attacks on nanotechnology facilities in Mexico. Security authorities say that such eco-anarchist groups are forging stronger links.

On 11 May, the cell sent a four-page letter to the Italian newspaper Corriere della Sera claiming responsibility for the shooting of Roberto Adinolfi, the chief executive of Ansaldo Nucleare, the nuclear-engineering subsidiary of aerospace and defence giant Finmeccanica. Believed by authorities to be genuine, the letter is riddled with anti-science rhetoric. The group targeted Adinolfi because he is a “sorcerer of the atom”, it wrote. “Adinolfi knows well that it is only a matter of time before a European Fukushima kills on our continent.”

“Science in centuries past promised us a golden age, but it is pushing us towards self-destruction and total slavery,” the letter continues. “With this action of ours, we return to you a tiny part of the suffering that you, man of science, are pouring into this world.” The group also threatened to carry out further attacks.

The Italian Ministry of the Interior has subsequently beefed up security at thousands of potential political, industrial and scientific targets. The measures include assigning bodyguards to 550 individuals.

The Olga Cell, named after an imprisoned Greek anarchist, is part of the Informal Anarchist Federation, which, in April 2011, claimed responsibility for sending a parcel bomb that exploded at the offices of the Swiss nuclear lobby group, Swissnuclear, in Olten. A letter found in the remains of the bomb demanded the release of three individuals who had been detained for plotting an attack on IBM’s flagship nanotechnology facility in Zurich earlier that year. In a situation report published this month, the Swiss Federal Intelligence Service explicitly linked the federation to the IBM attack.

The Informal Anarchist Federation argues that technology, and indeed civilization, is responsible for the world’s ills, and that scientists are the handmaidens of capitalism. “Finmeccanica means bio- and nanotechnology. Finmeccanica means death and suffering, new frontiers of Italian capitalism,” the letter reads.

Gathering momentum
The cell says that it is uniting with eco-anarchist groups in other countries, including Mexico, Chile, Greece and the United Kingdom. Mexico has already seen similar attacks: in August 2011, a group called Individuals Tending Towards Savagery sent a parcel bomb that wounded two nanotechnology researchers at the Monterrey Institute of Technology. One received burns to his legs and a perforated eardrum and the other had his lung pierced by shrapnel (G. Herrera Corral Nature 476,373; 2011). The package contained enough explosive to collapse part of the building, according to police, but failed to detonate properly.

Earlier that year, the same group sent two bombs to the nanotechnology facility at the Polytechnic University of the Valley of Mexico. One was intercepted before anyone could be harmed, but the second detonated, injuring a security guard. It is not clear how closely the group is tied to the Informal Anarchist Federation, but in online forums the two bodies offer “direct support” for each other’s activities and talk of a “blossoming” of a more organized eco-anarchist movement.

In the wake of the Mexican bombings, the Monterrey Institute installed metal detectors, began to use police sniffer dogs and started random inspections of vehicles and packages. After a letter bomb addressed to a nanotechnology researcher at the Polytechnic University of Pachuca in Hidalgo exploded in December last year, the institute installed a perimeter fence and scanners, and campuses across the state heightened security measures.

Italian police investigating the shooting say that they are concerned about the rise in violent action by anarchist groups amid Europe’s economic crisis. On 23 May, for example, members of the Informal Anarchist Federation attacked railway signals in Bristol, UK, causing severe transport delays. An online message from the group said that the targets had been chosen to disrupt employees of the Ministry of Defence and defence-technology businesses in the area, including Raytheon and QinetiQ.

The Swiss report also noted signs of “an increasing degree of international networking between perpetrators”. The level of risk to scientists depends on their field of work, says Simon Johner, a spokesman for the Swiss Federal Intelligence Service. “We are not able to tell them what to do. We can only make them aware of the dangers. It’s up to institutions to take preventative actions.” The agency is working with police forces, businesses and research communities to assess and tackle the threat.

“These people do not represent mainstream opinion. But I am still pretty frightened by this violence,” says Michael Hagmann, a biochemist and head of corporate communications for the Swiss Federal Laboratories for Materials Science and Technology near Zurich, a public-sector partner of the IBM facility that also does nanotechnology research.

“Just a few weeks after the attempted bombing, we were due to have a large conference on nanotechnology and we were really quite nervous” about going ahead with it, Hagmann says. “But we concluded that the public discussion was more important and didn’t want to scare people by having 20 police guarding us. It would have sent the wrong message.”

Nature 485, 561 (31 May 2012) doi:10.1038/485561a

*   *   *

Published online 22 August 2011 | Nature 476, 373 (2011) | doi:10.1038/476373a

Column: World View

Stand up against the anti-technology terrorists

Home-made bombs are being sent to physicists in Mexico. Colleagues around the world should ensure their own security, urges Gerardo Herrera Corral.

Gerardo Herrera Corral

My elder brother, Armando Herrera Corral, was this month sent a tube of dynamite by terrorists who oppose his scientific research. The home-made bomb, which was in a shoe-box-sized package labelled as an award for his personal attention, exploded when he pulled at the adhesive tape wrapped around it. My brother, director of the technology park at the Monterrey Institute of Technology in Mexico, was standing at the time, and suffered burns to his legs and a perforated eardrum. More severely injured by the blast was his friend and colleague Alejandro Aceves López, whom my brother had gone to see in his office to share a cup of coffee and open the award. Aceves López was sitting down when my brother opened the package; he took the brunt of the explosion in his chest, and shrapnel pierced one of his lungs.

Both scientists are now recovering from their injuries, but they were extremely fortunate to survive. The bomb failed to go off properly, and only a fraction of the 20-centimetre-long cylinder of dynamite ignited. The police estimate that the package contained enough explosive to take down part of the building, had it worked as intended.

The next day, I, too, was sent a suspicious package. I have been advised by the police not to offer details of why the package was judged of concern, but it arrived by an unusual procedure, and on a Sunday. It tested positive for explosives, and was taken away by the bomb squad, which declared a false alarm after finding that the parcel contained only books. My first reaction was to leave the country. Now, I am confused as to how I should respond.

As an academic scientist, why was my brother singled out in this way? He does not work in a field that is usually considered high-risk for terrorist activity, such as medical research on animals. He works on computer science, and Aceves López is an expert in robotics. I am a high-energy physicist and coordinate the Mexican contribution to research using the Large Hadron Collider at CERN, Europe’s particle-physics laboratory; I have worked in the field for 15 years.

An extremist anarchist group known as Individuals Tending to Savagery (ITS) has claimed responsibility for the attack on my brother. This is confirmed by a partially burned note found by the authorities at the bomb site, signed by the ITS and with a message along the lines of: “If this does not get to the newspapers we will produce more explosions. Wounding or killing teachers and students does not matter to us.”

In statements posted on the Internet, the ITS expresses particular hostility towards nano­technology and computer scientists. It claims that nanotechnology will lead to the downfall of mankind, and predicts that the world will become dominated by self-aware artificial-intelligence technology. Scientists who work to advance such technology, it says, are seeking to advance control over people by ‘the system’. The group praises Theodore Kaczynski, the Unabomber, whose anti-technology crusade in the United States in 1978–95 killed three people and injured many others.

The group’s rhetoric is absurd, but I urge colleagues around the world to take the threat that it poses to researchers seriously. Information gathered by Mexican federal authorities and Interpol link it to actions in countries including Spain, France and Chile. In April this year, the ITS sent a bomb — similar to the one posted to my brother — to the head of the Nanotechnology Engineering Division at the Polytechnic University of Mexico Valley in Tultitlan, although that device did not explode. In May, the university received a second parcel bomb, with a message reading: “This is not a joke: last month we targeted Oscar Camacho, today the institution, tomorrow who knows? Open fire on nanotechnology and those who support it!”

“I believe that terror should not succeed in establishing fear and imposing conduct.”

The scientific community must be made aware of such organizations, and of their capacity for destruction. Nanotechnology-research institutes and departments, companies and professional associations must beef up their security procedures, particularly on how they receive and accept parcels and letters.

I would like to stand up and speak in this way because I believe that terror should not succeed in establishing fear and imposing conduct that takes us far from the freedom we enjoy. I would like the police to take these events seriously; they are becoming a real threat to society. I would also like to express my solidarity with the Monterrey Institute of Technology — the institution that gave me both financial support to pursue my undergraduate studies and high-level academic training.

To oppose technology is not an unacceptable way to think. We may well debate the desirability of further technical development in our society. Yet radical groups such as the ITS overlook a crucial detail: it is not technology that is the problem, but how we use it. After Alfred Nobel invented dynamite he became a rich man, because it found use in mining, quarrying, construction and demolition. But people can also decide to put dynamite into a parcel and address it to somebody with the intention of killing them.

Gerardo Herrera Corral is a physicist at the Research and Advanced Studies Centre of the National Polytechnic Institute of Mexico in Mexico City.