Author: Slingshot Collective

By Daniele Spagnolo

I live in the 21217 area of Baltimore City, Maryland, right next to West Baltimore, where police murdered Freddie Gray, an unarmed, innocent black man. The six officers responsible for Freddie Gray’s death unlawfully and violently arrested Freddie after he made eye contact with an officer and instinctively ran. The officers refused to provide medical treatment for Freddie after brutally injuring his spine, and a murderous rough police van ride lasted hours before their arrival at the police station. Gray, 25, died in a hospital a few days later. On December 16, 2015 I went to a large community response from Baltimore residents and local chapters of the Black Lives Matter movement to the declared mistrial for Officer William Porter, the first to face court.

The gathering in Baltimore was one of hundreds of recent protests against police killings of black people. These public actions have ranged from marches to school walkouts to blockades of freeways and airports. For example, activists with Black*Seed blockaded the San Francisco Bay Bridge on MLK day, and activists protested at the Minneapolis Airport and the Mall of America near peak holiday-shopping season last December. The BLM movement is national yet decentralized. Many actions have been meticulously planned to build people power that is unique to their community.

I heard rumors that the police had put a major protest leader on temporary probation earlier that morning to stop him from protest organizing. I feared the police’s attempt to cut off a valued organizer would affect the outcome of the protest. I arrived at Baltimore City’s courthouse to witness a swarm of news media and about seven activists holding picket signs. Initially, I was afraid these few activists held the entirety of the protest; my heart dropped, there had to be more. A few minutes later, from the South side of Calvert Street, I started to hear a low echo of, “No Justice, No Peace, No Racist Police!” The volume grew as the protestors multiplied. There must have been hundreds of people. I felt a rush of energy, the kind of energy one can only find at protests. Completely electric, the fighters of justice roared in the bodies of young, old, black, white, every kind of people.

We marched, shouted until our lungs gave out, stopped traffic, and walked at a pace that called for immediate action. Bystanders seamlessly joined the march and the power of our steps vibrated in the cement as the protestors of Baltimore built a familial bond. Powerful, inspiring, black men and women chanted in a revolutionary tune. Abruptly, our march for justice was forced to reroute because of a predictable police blockade. Side by side, they looked divided. I stared intently at every single officer’s eyes. Some looked afraid, others held back clear hatred, but most were indifferent. They were indifferent as if we were shouting at a volume their eardrums could not pick up on.

We headed toward the courthouse lawn. The media was well equipped with their gear, but they were obviously products of a sloppy two-hour sensitivity training session. The reporters from FOX, NBC, ABC, etc. seemed completely unable to relate to the people they were interviewing, and each crew looked afraid. Some protestors strongly urged all activists to stay away from the corporate news sources, only to talk to local reporters, given the reputation of sensationalist media. Other protestors flocked to the robotic newscasters and held them accountable for portraying Baltimore’s previous protests in April 2015 as a city on fire rather than illuminating a city’s cry for justice.

As the crowd started to dwindle, a few key protest organizers gave us options as the night went on. One, we could watch the filming of the Real News Network’s report on court proceedings. Two, we could follow team leaders to the Juvenile Center, where it was assumed that another protestor, a sixteen year old, was held. This young black teenager, a minor, was forcefully held on the ground and then put in a chokehold by a police officer. I followed the group to stand outside the Juvenile Center. All of the protestors, concerned about the young man’s status, demanded answers from the security guard outside the Juvenile Center. We asked for the minor’s whereabouts and the guard quickly responded with, “They lied to you. He isn’t here.” A couple protestors persisted by calling every kind of police office the city contained, only to be left with no information of the young man’s location or status. Frustrated, yet determined to continue with the protest, we linked arms in front of the Juvenile Center, and exclaimed a more rhythmic chant, “Show me what democracy looks like! This is what democracy looks like!” The sound chimed through the chilly air as we swayed together, and the crowd listened carefully as spontaneous testimonies of experiences with racism were spoken into the night.

A seventeen year-old black woman explained the absolute priority the city must make of our children, specifically our black children. She painted a picture of what the sixteen year old must have been going through, and demanded for more people to show up during these demonstrations for the sake of our future. A younger black man told the group about his struggles with growing up in the clutches of homelessness and foster care in addition to living through the oppression every young black man faces in Baltimore. He said he has been through the court system himself, and he motivated his brothers and sisters to continue with their education and tirelessly work for justice. Another young black woman, who cried while chanting earlier, explained that crying is how she lets the world know this system is horrifically sad. Tears fell down her face as she announced to the crowd that not everyone has to cry, but we have to be there, and in our presence we will prove our fight for change.

CNN arrived to tape live. An older black man, who had led much of the motion and emotion of the march, very frankly told the reporter that he would only be allowed to share what happened to the minor as well as the will of our protest. If the reporter did not decide to cooperate with telling the actual story, the surrounding protestors would be instructed to shut it down. About a minute before CNN went on air, the crowd pointed out a young black woman who was encouraged to share her story with reporter. She explained that her husband was shot by a Baltimore police officer. He fit the description of a light-skinned black man with waves in his hair. The police had unlawfully shot her husband, and now he was in jail with a bullet an inch away from his spine, his health slowly deteriorating. If he died, his name would be added to the disgustingly massive list of black men murdered by law enforcement. I was left breathless by her story, and a little sick.

I still feel a relentless sickness, because racism in the United States is clearly not a phenomenon that is contained by the police state and cured through one court ruling. Policing perpetuates a nefarious government and culture that was founded on racist ideals, followed through with white supremacy, and is preserved through a tradition that pleads “not guilty” for violent and racist acts. Baltimore’s demonstration personally gave me chills, and it allowed me to come to an important realization. Scare tactics do not faze the Black Lives Matter movement. This community, much like many across the nation, had a valued community organizer taken away from them, witnessed heinous acts committed against their children, faced a blockade of police officers, and still, the march only grew.

Take more recent events, in Flint, Michigan, where institutional racism permitted lead-tainted drinking water to be sent to black neighborhoods for months, poisoning people with their source of life. The community is fighting back through protest on the foundation of what it means for black lives to matter. Alicia Garza, Black Lives Matter founder, has observed, “When we say Black Lives Matter, we are talking about the ways in which Black people are deprived of our basic human rights and dignity. It is an acknowledgement that Black poverty and genocide is state violence.”

In Flint, San Fransisco, Minneapplis, Baltimore, and anywhere one finds injustice, the march of the movement is dauntlessly growing. Much like a hydra cut by a sword; Black Lives Matter intuitively erupts in courage when society attempts to cut off its resources, and this sentiment sends a powerful message that builds in a protestor’s mind.

The power of a protest lies in tomorrow. What is going to happen tomorrow because of the demonstration we put on today? I will show up to more community meetings, many are using social media to share their stories, and others are more proactively planning further actions. The life of a protest exists in the movement, the amoeba-like being, combining all of our souls, bouncing and moving together. We are following and leading, shouting and sitting in silence, rising up and “shutting it down.” Protesting is the true voice of a community, and Baltimore City has a lot more to say than a repeated clip of a burning CVS. The police, the system, and the traditional culture may not be able to hear us now, but the protest allows us to hear each other, and it encourages us to speak louder, with more strength, until our words can break through a purposeful and ignorant deafness. The revolution starts in these moments, and these moments are here, so get ready.

 

Slingshot is an independent radical newspaper published in Berkeley since 1988.

This issue got off to a promising start with plenty of people and ideas at the kick-off meeting and plenty of articles turned in by the deadline. But as we read through the articles, a lot of them were off-topic and others just needed a lot of help — we began to joke that the theme of the issue should be “a cry for help.” At the meeting, someone lamented that with too many mediocre articles, the issue would lack inspiration.

But, really, at a certain point maybe the inspiration is the just doing anything these days. Especially when you’re not an expert and maybe you’ve never written an article before. Especially trying to pull a paper together out of scraps that people send our way seemingly almost at random. Working as a collective in the scraps of time after work and in the scraps of space that haven’t been gobbled up by the developers. And yeah maybe it isn’t a very coherent or comprehensive response to the zeitgeist but we got the articles we got and then we ran with them. The authors wrote what inspired them in a way that made sense to them and honoring the work is important. And by the time we finished the issue, a lot of the articles got improved a lot as well.

Whatever it is that we’re doing here, plenty of people keep dropping in to help us do it. Late at night we were wondering if people just came by to be a part of the wild life. Or is it more like a zoo and they want to see the wildlife? But who’s inside the bars and who’s outside?

For the “Slingshot is soooo outdated” file: While doing layout one of us consulted the filing cabinet in the office that’s full of photos, clip art and drawings and found a file labeled “nudism” but not one for “climate change.”

It was a full moon while we were making the issue and late at night the silver light was intense and we took a moment to reflect. People are always dying and being born — not just famous people. Since last issue, we lost long-ago Slingshot author Chris Thompson, who died of a heart attack at 46.

Making this issue we also listened to the music of Native American activist and poet John Trudell who passed on recently. In his song Living in Reality, he describes his arrest during an anti-nuclear protest. While his hands are bound with plastic handcuffs, his mind is free while his jailers are the ones who lack freedom — caught up in their 12-hour shifts and chain of command.

One of the best things about vinyl records is when an album is over — the silence. The sounds then echo in the void.

Slingshot is always looking for new writers, artists, editors, photographers, translators, distributors, etc. to make this paper. If you send an article, please be open to editing.

Editorial decisions are made by the Slingshot Collective, but not all the articles reflect the opinions of all collective members. We welcome debate and constructive criticism.

Thanks to the people who made this: A. Iwasa, Cristina, Dane, Dov, Eggplant, Elke, Isabel, Jesse, Joey, Korvin, Magic8Ball, Molly Cat, Xander and all the authors and artists!

Slingshot New Volunteer Meeting

Volunteers interested in getting involved with Slingshot can come to the new volunteer meeting on March 6, 2016 at 7 pm (new time!) at the Long Haul in Berkeley (see below.)

Article Deadline & Next Issue Date

Submit your articles for issue 121 by April 9, 2016 at 3 pm.

 

Volume 1, Number 120, Circulation 22,000

Printed January 29, 2016

 

Slingshot Newspaper

A publication of Long Haul

Office: 3124 Shattuck Avenue Berkeley CA 94705

Mailing: PO Box 3051, Berkeley, CA 94703

Phone (510) 540-0751 • slingshot@tao.ca slingshot.tao.ca • twitter @slingshotnews

 

 

 

Slingshot free stuff

We’ll send you a random assortment of back issues for the cost of postage. Send $3 for 2 lbs. Free if you’re an infoshop or library . slingshot at tao.ca

 

Circulation information

Subscriptions to Slignshot are free to prisoners, low income, or anyone in the USA with a Slingshot Organizer, or $1 per issue. International $3 per issue. Outside the Bay Area we’ll mail you a free stack of copies if you give them out for free. Say how many copies and how long you’ll be at your address. In the Bay Area pick up copies at Long Haul and Bound Together books, SF.

 

by Teresa Smith

Stephen Michael Clift, known as “Pirate Mike,” prolific treesitter of Occupy San Francisco, outspoken member of Veterans for Peace, and a part of the Slingshot Collective, died in the line of duty on Friday, October 30, 2015. He was on a cross-country bike tour that he helped organize in honor of homeless veterans when he was struck and killed by a car in Texas. In his last video post on his blog, Mike spoke fondly about returning to San Francisco so someone could cut his hair, which had just been whipped into a wild mess as he rode through a New Mexico hailstorm. He glared back at his disheveled image in the camera-phone with amused disapproval.

…a Soldier for Peace in the battle to keep our planet alive.

Mike was someone who treated everyone like they mattered, especially the trees. His passion wasn’t that bleeding heart liberal goo, but rather was marbled in wingnutty radicalness — he wasn’t afraid to pound nails into oaks as he worked to save them, building forts with flags and verve. His vest was covered in patches, his body with tattoos, his laptop with stickers. He was a hacker, a pirate, a proud veteran who orated about the need to dismantle the military and also to care for our wounded and homeless vets. He frequently joined groups of folks who needed emergency housing, and together they pitched camps and cracked squats. He always had a good speech in him, and also knew how to pause and listen to what everyone had to say.

I met Mike at the Hayes Valley Farm Treesit in June of 2013. I was joined that day by a student photographer from Mills College, Brooke Porter, and the goal was to write an article about the place, which had just been renamed “Gezi Gardens” in solidarity with the uprising in Turkey. Brooke seemed pretty thrilled about the whole thing, but I felt terror in the pit of my stomach as we walked around the green, sunlit permaculture garden, plagued by post-Occupy-Shutdown PTSD flashbacks. Every time I see something wonderful happening in public, I feel the presence of the police now, as if they are just past the edges of my vision, ready to leap out and start gassing and hurting everyone again. I sat down and grabbed my knees and breathed for a while, and nearly left the treesit, but then Pirate Mike introduced himself. Mike was grinning and ridiculous (yet awesome!) in his patch-covered military fatigues, all big handshakes and serious nods with that glimmer in his eye. If my catholic mom had been there, she might have proclaimed, “this guy’s an authentic saint!” But what I believe is that Pirate Mike was someone who had really learned to love himself, which is pretty much the bravest thing anyone can do, and that’s what gave him the courage to be so present with people, which is probably why he seemed to glow sometimes (ask around, I know I’m not the only one who noticed), and why something that I might call “meaning” seemed to sprout organically from Mike’s simplest gestures.

Mike gave us the grand tour of the 2.5-acre farm, which was buzzing with artists and musicians and radicals, and there was even a library and a kitchen, one group was making a music video with a saxophone player, while another group was putting sprouted plants into the ground. One young man was shoveling sod in big bunny slippers. Mike knew everybody’s names, and he also introduced us to the treeforts, taking us to their bases and pointing out all the neat construction hacks he’d used to make them. At one point, I turned away for half a minute to talk to some of the freshly planted vegetables, suddenly I turn back to see Brooke strapped into a harness, flying up into a tree! Mike was holding the rope, hoisting her up—could there be a better way to spend a Tuesday?

Yeah, sure, a lot of liberals in San Francisco got really huffy about that occupation—“We promised to give the permaculture farm away to developers, and now these radicals are making us look bad!” But Mike saw himself as a Soldier for Peace in a much bigger battle, the greatest battle known, the battle to keep our planet alive. Mike understood that every time we give up a local, permaculture farm, we are handing our food production over to corporate growers who are killing our oceans by dumping nitrogen on their crops, and pumping CO2 into our atmosphere. Mike understood the importance of holding on to every piece of land where local food might be grown.

Two days later, the Department of Homeland Security raided the treesit on behalf of Wall Street real estate corporation AvalonBay (NYSE: AVB). The 100-year-old trees were felled and some 45,000 square feet of farmland was destroyed to make the real estate commodity. A book Mike had written about his life was taken by Homeland Security during the raid, and never returned. Now I really wish I could get a hold of that book. I guess that’s just a grief reaction. I want to see him again. I really want him to emerge from the sidewalk crowd and say “Hey puffinstuff!” and give me some of his weirdly intimate random life advice.

“Veterans from all walks of military life need to step up their duty and reclaim some fresh living. Our hearts may still weep, yet our stories can inspire and our hands can teach.”
~ Pirate Mike

Mike was good to have at urban farming meetings. He didn’t always stay on topic (he tended to veer towards “so when do we start building tree forts?”), but he also had a knack for taking emotional stack, for offering subtle nods of encouragement to the people who seemed to be struggling to speak. As an anarchist, he helped remind us to make space for each other, to hold on to our basic humanity even during the most tyrannical of consensus meetings (like the ones that get taken over by those with the most privilege? Yeah, those ones). Mike would check in with people if he thought their feelings got hurt during a meeting, and would offer these pep talks, like a gentle drill sergeant, about how we have to stay in it for the long haul, sure sometimes it’s good to go cool off, but we can’t stop working for the things we believe, no matter how fucking obnoxious other anarchists can be.

In spring of 2015, Mike showed up at a Slingshot meeting with an article, Military Veterans and their Role in Revolution, which we ran on the front page. In the article he wrote: “Veterans from all walks of military life need to step up their duty and reclaim some fresh living. Our hearts may still weep, yet our stories can inspire and our hands can teach. If we can provide some safety; some collective wisdom, learn from what it means to be under constant stress and hungry, and how through team work and dedication we were able to overcome our challenges, we can become an invaluable asset to the “revolution”.”

After Mike was killed, newspapers across the country printed the announcement of his death, a testament to the many, many friends Mike made everywhere he went. He was never just passing through; Mike was always at home. Accounts of his adventures can be found at his blog: occupyveteranssanfrancisco.weebly.com.

How do we move forward without our friend? How do we honor him, and keep alive all the things he gave us so freely, simply by being himself in public?

Last time I saw Pirate Mike was in early spring of 2015, I was standing in line in front of a bank on Shattuck Ave, trying to figure out my life, when suddenly he was there with his gear-laden bicycle, and we talked for twenty minutes, and he was telling me about all the other places I could easily be: hitchhiking across Europe, tree-sitting in Oakland, anywhere but a place that is boring you! He orated passionately about the necessity to live the most full and authentic life possible, about the lengths one must go to at times to keep their soul alive.

I know I’m not the only one he reached, that so, so many people are feeling this loss right now. How do we move forward without our friend? How do we honor him, and keep alive all the things he gave us so freely, simply by being himself in public?

Urban adventurer. Loving provoker of lost girls and boys. A man ready to grab a stranger by the hand, strap her into a harness, and hoist her into the illegal occupation of a tree. Goddammit Mike, I’m going to miss your silly face, your thoughtful interjections, your inability to follow stack, the light you brought to a community on the edge of darkness. Occupy the afterlife, my friend. If it turns out there’s a heaven, you better be squatting the shit out of it.

Above: Mike’s last video post to his blog.

* * *

Share your memories, stories, and photos of Pirate Mike at the online memorial.  

 

oops – errors in the 2016 Organizer

 

Thanks if you purchased a 2016 Slingshot Organizer – they are how we can afford to print and distribute this newspaper for free. We still have copies if you want to order some.

There are 2 errors in the spiral Organizer (only). On page 3 the 2016/2017 calendar showing both years, the headline for 2017 is over the 2016 calendar and the headline for 2016 is over a 2017 calendar. On page 49 the days should read Fri, Sat, Sun. Please fix your copy with your favorite pen and tell your friends to fix theirs. Also in just the spiral Organizer on June 11 the International day of Solidarity with Marius Mason says “Marie” not Marius – sorry about the error.

In both the pocket and spiral organizer there are chemical formulas for human hormones and we’ve been told that these drawings are incorrect. We regret these errors.

If you want to plug into work on the 2017 Organizer, here is a rough schedule:

• We’ll edit the historical dates in May and June. Send us suggestions for dates.

• Between June 26 and July 29 artists will draw the calendar section for 2017. If you want to draw a 4 week section, let us know. We’ll also call and email all the radical contacts to update the list – send us your corrections in July and let us know if you want to help.

• The weekend of July 29-30 and August 5-6 we’ll have art and editing parties to put the Organizer together. If you’re in the Bay Area those weekends and want to help out, it is a fun participatory project – no experience necessary. Email us for information.

No matter where you are, you can send us art to paste here and there, cover submissions, feature essays for the back, the letters A-Z, the numbers 1-31, the names of each month, and the days of the week — we’ll paste it in for you.

 

 

 

By Compost

The “Thin Green Line” is a term coined for the grassroots resistance of the Pacific Northwest to stop the massive export of fossil fuels from North America to Asian countries, and in general, to slow the climate-changing burning of fossil fuels. There are a mind boggling number of proposals for export facilities, pipelines and train transport along the west coast, as the fossil fuel industry races the growing human realization that our species is unlikely to survive unless we can stop putting so much carbon into the atmosphere.

From the proposed oil export terminal on the old Oakland Army Base, to the liquid natural gas pipeline proposal through Oregon, to the Unist’ot’en camp on tribal lands that blocks pipelines through central British Colombia, people all up the west coast of North America are active trying to stop fossil fuel export.

One strong stand is being made at Cherry Point, just north of Bellingham, WA on native Lummi tribal lands. There is a proposal there for a large coal export terminal that would that would receive nine mile-and-a-half long trains coming and going daily, carrying coal from the Powder River Basin in Montana. This coal would then be put on large ships that would navigate through the precious Salish Sea and on to Asian markets. The owners of the terminal, SSA Marine (49% owned by Goldman Sachs, and partnering with Peabody Energy) intends to export 54 million metric tons of coal annually.

There is great concern on many fronts to the proposal. First, the terminal expansion plan is on a significant cultural site and an ancestral burial ground of the first nations people of the Lummi tribe. The project also threatens an important Herring fishery and Salmon habitat. The Lummi have petitioned the Army Corp of Engineers to deny the coal terminal permit on treaty grounds that it will interfere with their treaty rights to livelihood.

Also there are the immediate health and environmental concerns of the pollution and dangers from the coal dust, the “surfactants” used to limit the dust, and the diesel exhaust. According to BNSF Railway website, these 15,000-ton trains will lose three percent of their load in transit or 1,780,000 short tons of coal dust spread annually from the Powder River Basin to the terminal. Add on the effects on all the communities of such extensive rail traffic blocking roads and emergency vehicles, noise pollution and loud train whistles, dangers of accidents, property value loss and added costs to municipalities. And furthermore, sending cheap fossil fuels abroad encourages local job loss, lessons our self reliance and incredibly damages the environment through extraction, transport and use.

And importantly the increased marine traffic through the environmentally sensitive Salish Sea would increase chance of accidents, oil spills and pollution that threatens this precious ecosystem and rare Orca whale habitat. Top it all off with the folly of continuing to extract and burn fossil fuels that are causing such dramatic climate changes and you have one hell of a bad idea!

This is a big deal. Activists, tribal members, and concerned folks are our chance at turning this around. And there have been successes. Arch Coal which was trying to put a big coal port in Longview WA, just declared bankruptcy, Obama finally denied the permit for the much protested against XL pipeline, the Northern Gateway pipeline seems to be fading from Enbridge’s plans in British Columbia and Shell stopped their plans to drill for oil in the remote arctic ocean. Just recently “The Delta 5”, five activists who blockaded an oil train near Seattle, have been been allowed to use the necessity defense in a historic climate change civil disobedience trial. “The Thin Green Line” of awakened citizens is what stands between the insane continuation of failed fossil fuel folly and the hopeful turning to alternative ways of being, necessary to protect life on earth. The time is now, before the machines of destruction get further built, to turn this around. It really is a life and death decision this generation must make. We know. Let’s turn it around. www.powerpastcoalorg/

 

By P. Wingnut

Every four years, the big mainstream political parties have their slick, corporate-style national conventions to nominate presidential candidates and — like salmon returning to spawn — the riffraff turns up to flip them off, party in the streets and call the whole democracy™ spectacle out for the fraud it is. This year the Democrats will slime Philadelphia July 25-28 at the Wells Fargo Center and the Republicans will be at the Quicken Loans Arena in Cleveland, Ohio July 18-21.

As of press time, we’re aware of a few protests planned and it is early — surely more will materialize — but it is currently looking like the “anarchist” scene (such as it is) isn’t in a mood to play. There is a “Resist the 2016 Cleveland RNC” facebook page with pictures of black masks, but it doesn’t have contact information and an activist in Cleveland told Slingshot “I am not involved in any organizing around the convention, and am not sure who put up the Facebook page. Honestly, with everything else going on around here [protests of police shootings including that of 12-year-old Tamir Rice] there are other events drawing our attention and capacity.”

In Philadelphia, there is a march sponsored by the Poor People’s Economic Human Rights Campaign and actions planned by anti-fracking groups, but just 6 months before the convention one Philadelphia anarchist wrote “Not sure if there’s anything taking shape yet from more explicitly anarchist organizers.”

Many people over the years have questioned “why should anarchists even dignify these clowns by protesting them — it just wastes our resources, there are so many police we can’t be effective in actually disrupting the event, and everyone either already thinks politicians are illegitimate, or else they’re going to ignore our protests.”

Nonetheless, some of the contention protests I’ve been at over the years have felt worth it because they provided an amazing excuse for a continental anarchist/radical gathering culminating in a riot or attempted riot. We’ve learned real skills and developed important relationships pulling these things together. Disorder in the streets breaks our isolation and powerlessness and helps us link up with others out in society who aren’t part of the “radical scene” but who intuitively understand what it means when thousands of people surge into the streets and create chaos. It isn’t about the Republi-crats — it’s about rejecting their whole system of corporations, hierarchy, greed, centralization, militarization and media distraction.

This year, we’re seeing a large segment of America’s working class react to growing economic insecurity not by rebelling against their bosses, but by falling for clumsy political manipulation — cheering ham-fisted attacks on immigrants, Muslims, and overblown fear of terrorism. There is an opportunity to turn this class-based anger against the corporations and one-percenters.

Meanwhile let’s face it — life in our high-tech, sterile, ultra-specialized world is simultaneously stressful, lonely and boring. Mass shootings, youthful ISIS fighters, and the rise of nationalism worldwide are pathological responses. Radicals, anarchists and DIY free spirits offer real alternatives based on love, human interaction, creativity and mutual aid.

As cities get more dense, expensive and competitive, people become more lonely and impoverished economically and spiritually. The DIY solution to overconsumption and isolated cars, apartments, products, services is a return to community, cooperation and sharing that saves resources and puts meaning and connection back into our lives. Let’s detonate the nuclear family and embrace complex webs of community — multiple partners, shared parenting, and a vast continuum of friendships transcending demographic categories.

Announced Events

July 24: March for a Clean Energy Revolution hosted by Americans Against Fracking et al. Noon downtown Philadelphia. Info: foodandwaterwatch.org “Philadelphia is poised to become a major energy hub, bearing the brunt of fracked gas exploitation. Pennsylvania fracking emissions contribute to global climate change. To avoid further devastation, we know we need to leave the majority of fossil fuels in the ground. This means reducing subsidies and demand for oil, coal, and gas while supporting economic initiatives to create green energy jobs in both urban and rural communities.”

July 25: March for Our Lives Sponsored by Poor People’s Economic Human Rights Campaign. City Hall 1401 JFK Blvd 3pm. Economichumanrights.org

Resist the 2016 Cleveland RNC

Resist the 2016 Cleveland RNC is a peaceful and non-violent coalition of individuals and organizations dedicated to resisting the efforts of the Republican National Convention and expressing to them and the world a message of Equality, Liberty and Environmental Responsibility. Many different people from many different movements are rallying around this coalition, join us. Lend your voice to the chorus of change.

Blurbed by P. Wingnut

The climate change action group 350.org and others are calling for coordinated direct actions and mass arrests designed to disrupt fossil fuel installations and government offices in a dozen countries from May 7-15. They are calling to “keep fossil fuels in the ground and accelerate a just transition to 100% renewable energy and a sustainable future for all.” Specific targets in the United States, Canada, Brazil, South Africa, Nigeria, Germany, Spain, Italy, Turkey, Australia, Philippines, Indonesia and Israel/Palestine will be announced soon.

Their call to action explains: “After the Climate Summit in Paris we need to redouble efforts to end the use of destructive fossil fuels and choose a clean and just energy future. Imagine: tens of thousands of people around the world rising up to take back control of their own destinies. Walking arm-in-arm into coal fields. Sitting down to block the business of governments and industry that threaten our future. Marching in peaceful defense of our right to clean energy. We are close to a historic, global shift in our energy system. The way we get there is by action that confronts those who are responsible for climate change and takes power back for the people so we can shape the sustainable and just future we need.”

Unlike previous climate protests scheduled to protest international summit meetings or stop particular projects like the Keystone XL pipeline, the May actions are designed to seize the initiative and set the agenda rather than just reacting. Organizers point out that “climate change is with us now and the need to act has never been more urgent. Our actions must reflect the scale and urgency of this crisis in a way that can no longer be ignored.” The May action will focus on civil disobedience actions / mass arrests rather than emphasizing marches and rallies. Folks not wanting to risk arrest can act as support persons to those risking arrest so everyone can participate.

The call to action emphasizes the need to empower local communities and grassroots groups. As Naomi Klein and others have pointed out, solving the climate crisis presents a huge opportunity to broadly reorganize social relations away from centralized, corporate extractive thinking and towards sustainable, cooperative and human-based economics and technology. Avoiding disastrous climate change requires these shifts. As the organizers point out “These mobilizations will … help spread information about crucial new and existing local campaigns to fight fossil fuels, and continue to shift political power away from the fossil fuel industry and towards grassroots groups who are at the frontlines of a great energy and economic transformation.”

The unsustainable corporate system is a dead end not just because it is polluting the earth, but because it has polluted our lives with pointlessness, powerlessness, boredom and isolation. Top down energy and technology pollutes our bodies and our souls.

As gloomy as it can look sometimes, we’re at the beginning of the end of the fossil fuel era — but historical eras never collapse on their own, they always need our help. How can you plug in this May?

See the call to action for more information at breakfree2016.org.

 

 

by Dane

“The Fifth Estate, founded in 1965, is an anarchist, anti-capitalist, and anti-authoritarian, anti-profit project published cooperatively by a volunteer collective of friends and comrades. We are committed to non-dogmatic, action-oriented writing and activity to bring about a new world.”

– from the About Us section of the Fifth Estate website

 

This past fall, the Fifth Estate magazine celebrated its 50th Anniversary. The celebrations were primarily in the form of art gallery exhibits and a staff reunion party. For the whole span of its history, the Fifth Estate (FE) has been an independent, radical publication (the term Fifth Estate represents the alternative to the “Fourth Estate,” a term to signify mainstream media.) The past 40 years of the publication’s run have promoted anarchist/anti-authoritarian ideas and perspectives. With the Slingshot publication in its 27+ years of production, the Fifth Estate has served as either an influence or a model to be looked upon by many of the volunteers who make Slingshot happen each time.*

Started by Harvey Ovshinsky in 1965, FE started as an alternative publication with a focus on arts and culture with it adopting New Left-style politics over the next ten years with an editorial collective developing within this time. By the mid-70s, the FE collective started to adopt the writing of such individuals as Freddy Perlman, Jean Baudrillard, Jacques Camatte, the Situationists (Guy Debord and Raoul Vanegeim primarily), and others. Perlman was a significant influence as he and his partner, Lorraine, lived in Detroit where FE has existed for most of its history. Marcus Graham, who published an anarchist magazine titled “Man!” in the 1930s (when Marxism/Stalinism was unfortunately seen as the primary challenger to class society and other capitalist values), got in contact with FE. By the late 70s, John Zerzan started writing for the publication as well. Throughout the 1980s and 90s, FE became well-known for its radical critique of technology and civilization as a whole. This has continued to the present in some aspects, but it is not quite the same focus as it used to be (the FE Summer 2015’s theme was the critique of technology though). This overall critique of civilized ways of living was to counter, or go beyond, the State and Capital as the foundations of authoritarian ideas and systems. Other writers like David Watson (aka George Bradford), Bob Brubaker, and Peter Werbe, helped in the development of these critiques of technology, progress, and civilized thought.

From 2002-2009, FE was removed from its primary base of Detroit (but still published there occasionally) and began to be edited in Tennessee, New York, and Wisconsin. Pumpkin Hollow, a rural commune in eastern Tennessee was the primary site of production. Since 2009, FE has been published in Detroit again with a decentralized editorial collective scattered across North America. The magazine today has a broad, non-dogmatic perspective with writers coming from various tendencies of anarchist thought (anarcho-communist, anarcho-primitivist, queer anarchist, eco-anarchist, anarcha-feminist, anarcho-syndicalist, and anarchists-without-adjectives). This aspect of FE serves as a unique way to analyze how the anarchist philosophy isn’t monolithic with multiple ways of analyzing authoritarian ideas, philosophies, and institutions. This can be seen as a counter to other anti-capitalist philosophies such as Marxism, where Karl Marx is seen as a Messiah-like individual from where all Truth™ is initially or entirely understood (the FE Spring 2015 issue’s theme was “Anti-Marx.”)

Radical and anarchist publications have served as influence on each other and as a broad medium within independent media. Recently, Peter Werbe, who has been with FE since 1966, mentioned Slingshot newspaper as his favorite publication on the radio show “The Final Straw.” While it may be easy for some to get all their news and sources of information from the internet, others may be looking for such ideas in print form. A person in an infoshop, social space, library, or bookstore may first come across these ideas in a print publication rather than a website. For people who want to see further promotion of such anarchist and/or radical ideas and ways of living, it may be important to either support such magazines, newspapers, and other forms of print media to spark conversations along these lines. Also, anybody can submit articles to Fifth Estate for possible publication (especially if it fits in within the overall mindset and/or specific theme of FE), so you could be part of the next generation of individuals who introduce new perspectives, just like the assortment of individuals previously mentioned who changed FE in the 1970s. Either that, or start your own media; after all, the whole DIY (do-it-yourself) direct action aspect is an integral part of taking these radical ideas from abstract theory and putting them into practice and experimentation.

 

* Note: While the Slingshot newspaper is free based off raising funds from sales of the annual Slingshot organizer, Fifth Estate magazine is currently $4 an issue and survives off mostly subscriptions. Fifth Estate can be found at most infoshops and radical bookstores (there are issues at the Long Haul Infoshop).

 

For more info on subscribing or learning more about FE, check out:

 

Fifth Estate

P.O. Box 201016

Ferndale, MI 48220

 

Email: fe@fifthestate.org

Website: http://www.fifthestate.org/

Buy back issues: http://littleblackcart.com/

 

 

By Elaine

In Paris, France last December, representatives from 197 countries gathered for their annual UN-sponsored meeting to agree that, for the 21st time, climate change is (1) an actual thing, and (2) something for which developed nations must take responsibility (spoiler alert: US Republicans boycotted the conference).

I had the opportunity to volunteer in the Civil Society zone of the conference, basically a gathering of the world’s eco-activists. It was refreshing to meet like-minded people from around the world who are actually creating solutions to address climate change issues, instead of just talking about the problems. I felt right at home.

However, whenever I spoke, my accent betrayed my nationality, and I felt awkwardly out of place. Rumor had it that the Republicans—in absentia—were acting as a road block to the agreement. The US delegates were hesitant to support a binding agreement, for fear that the Republicans back home would smash it to pieces.

Interestingly, there don’t seem to be any other countries with a substantial population of politically active people who are so opposed to addressing the causes of climate change. I’m not sure why. My best guess is that it’s related to an American obsession with money and associated feelings of entitlement.

There were delegations from resource-rich (and correspondingly high-emissions) countries, and the nations and tribes on the other end of the resource spectrum. The injustice is already visible: poor countries are the first victims of climate change, they lack the resources to respond, and are therefore dependent on the generosity of wealthier nations. Given this diversity of interests at the table, reaching an agreement on anything is a challenge.

Each participating country was required to submit an emissions goal that, taken together, should halt warming at 2.7 degrees Celsius above pre-industrial temperatures. This is much higher than the original target of “well below” 2.0 degrees Celsius. “What’s the big deal over a couple of degrees?” you ask? A few degrees difference won’t make much difference to the gluten-free, organic, free-range, low-fat, fair-trade granola roasting in your oven, but the Earth is much more sensitive. It’s been calculated that a 1-degree Celsius global temperature increase would eliminate about one-third of all the fresh water (i.e. drinking water) from the surface of the Earth by 2100—that’s only 84 years from now. (Sorry, kids. You’ll probably live to see it, but our planet won’t look the same.)

We humans are adept at adjusting to change, recalibrating our expectations, and developing new definitions of normalcy. This is easier for those of us in developed countries because we are slightly insulated from the first shocks of climate change: drought, rising ocean levels, and a decline in the populations of species, such as fish, that people all over the world depend on for food and livelihood. Like the proverbial frog on the stovetop, will we jump out of the pot before we are cooked?

The Paris Agreement is historic simply because of its near-total international support, not due to the ambitiousness of its goals. After two weeks of around-the-clock negotiations, the Paris Agreement was signed by almost every country on our planet, each of whom promises to take responsibility for the greenhouse gases it emits… someday, maybe. There is no structure in which nations can be held accountable for their actions: emissions reduction goals are voluntary, with no incentives to reach them except for peer pressure from other countries. While the Agreement is certainly a good starting point, it is non-binding and therefore mostly symbolic.

Perhaps the most egregious omission from the Paris Agreement is the subject of fossil fuel extraction. The attitude seems to be “Keep burning whatever you want, in exchange for compensating the poor countries that are suffering most.” Fracking, mining, and drilling for oil and natural gas pose both immediate and long-term human and environmental health threats, not to mention how they pollute our atmosphere when they are burned. Despite our campaign to “Keep it in the ground”, the fossil fuel companies have won this round, and extraction continues.

What can we do? Don’t put up with it! Throw a wrench (preferably literal, metaphorical only if you must) into fossil fuel development projects. And perhaps most importantly, though often neglected: talk about it. In many circles, climate change is an awkward and avoided subject. In the face of this global crisis, talking about climate change—and what we can do about it—is actually quite a radical thing to do. Next to religion and politics, it’s one of the subjects that I’ve learned not to bring up at the dinner table. Why? Let’s dive into that: ask people what they know about climate change, and how they feel it should be addressed by individuals and groups. Listen first, and then try to find common ground. (Believe it or not, we have a lot in common with Tea Party Republicans, including a distaste for the government meddling in our affairs.)

You’ve reached the final paragraph, and I bet you’re looking for the bottom line. Was the Paris Agreement successful, or not? Unfortunately, I can’t answer that—only your great-great-great-great-grandchildren can, if there are any humans around by then. The Greenpeace-style battle cry “Save the Earth!” sounds so benevolent, though I find it misleading: humans are the endangered species that we should be most worried about, and it is our own mortality that we are most afraid of when we contemplate Earth’s future. The planet is going to do just fine without us.

 

 

By Summer Dunsmore

Four months after Nepal endured the deadliest quake in its history, Aneela Tasneem received another, tremulous, shock. Her family had been denied refugee status by the UNHCR in Kathmandu.

Back home in Pakistan, Aneela faced persecution her entire life as an Ahmadi Muslim. Following the passage of a 1974 constitutional amendment, Ahmadis have been barred from calling themselves Muslims or in any way “preaching or propagating” their faith in Pakistan. Considered heretics by the Sunni majority, Ahmadis face state-mandated fines, imprisonment, or even violence by other Pakistanis. Years of hate crimes and terrorism – including a bombing of two Ahmadi mosques in 2010, which claimed nearly a hundred lives – has forced many of them from their homeland, creating displacement hubs in Nepal, Sri Lanka, and Malaysia.

After Aneela’s brother was attacked, her family fled to Nepal in 2013 with the hopes of gaining refugee status through the UNHCR. Aneela’s life is one of constant uncertainty, and the question of her status as a refugee – combined with the surprise and havoc caused by last year’s 7.8-magnitude earthquake – leaves her struggling to secure some semblance of a future for her family. After the denial of her case on August 20th, 2015, Aneela immediately organized a weeklong sit-in outside the UNHCR gate in Kathmandu.

“As a community, we believe if one person has a problem, the whole community is there to support. We are also victims of the earthquake, but right now we’re here to try and get a positive response for refugee status for my family,” says Aneela.

The scene there is humbling. Small children build mud castles to pass the time, while women donning black burqas sit closely together, murmuring lightly in the dazed noon heat.

The UNHCR in Kathmandu and the government of Nepal are the two institutions capable of protecting South Asian asylum seekers like Aneela, but the limitations of this relationship are obvious. Aneela must constantly grasp for basic assistance and – as a result – mobilize within a political system that is battling to secure its own legitimacy and recognition in South Asia’s post-colonial space. Since the formal abolishment of its monarchy, Nepal has been unable to solidify a constitution that includes the grievances and needs of its minority, indigenous classes who have long expressed a feeling of inequality compared to the powerful Brahman caste. For even the simplest forms of assistance, urban refugees dependent on the UNHCR must constantly compromise, unequivocally caught in the center of the broiling political climate of this country’s 26 million.

Like Aneela, Irfan Cheema is another refugee who has been at the forefront of his community’s fight to secure protection and assistance from the government and the UNHCR in Nepal, as well as local efforts to rebuild after the earthquake. He works as an English tutor and translator in Kathmandu, and is a poetic, imaginative speaker: “With no way, we have to find a way. In the darkness we are searching. You can say we ran from the fire into the sea, where the crocodiles are waiting for us.”

He reveals that following the April 25th earthquake, the Ahmadi community was without assistance for fifteen days. Like most Nepalis, their homes were severely damaged. “After fifteen days, the UNHCR supported us [sic] 3,000 rupees, but that was nothing in the situation of the earthquake. For two months afterwards, there was nothing to earn. It is too difficult to make daily wages. First of all, if a Nepali is getting 600 rupees, then we are only getting 300, because we don’t have the right to work, so we have to work at the half-wage. But if you work for 300 rupees for 30 days, it is just 9,000 rupees. What is 9,000 rupees when the rent of the house is 15,000?” he asks.

Urban refugees like the Ahmadis may spend hours, days, even weeks waiting to secure a five-minute meeting, to file paperwork for their medical expenses, or to obtain an allowance to cover the high-costs of their children’s primary education. The process is often slow, and in many cases, prayers go unanswered or unheard. The UNHCR was chartered in 1992 by the government of Nepal in order to help harbor Bhutanese refugees, and nearly 80% of those refugees have already been resettled. While the UNHCR has been slowly phasing out its major activities in Nepal, a modern need amongst urban refugees has steadily grown.

“Nepal doesn’t have a national framework to look at refugees. There are the urban refugees, about five hundred in number, who’ve come from various conflict-hit areas – Sri Lanka, Myanmar, Pakistan, and Afghanistan – but they are not recognized as refugees by the government of Nepal. They are considered illegal migrants. When they come to Nepal, they approach UNHCR, and since the UNHCR mandate is to work in the protection of refugees, we recognize them as refugees after going through various assessments. But the government still considers them illegal migrants,” says Deepesh Shrestha, an External Relations Officer for the UNHCR in Kathmandu.

As of a civil meeting conducted on August 4th, 2015, the UNHCR will discontinue the aid it once provided to the majority of Ahmadis and other urban refugees, and will only be given to those with “special needs” – a margin so narrow, it does little to help most refugees living in Kathmandu. This austerity measure – perhaps a result of the bureaucratic nightmare and legislative standstill that has come to define the modern Nepali government – begs the urgent question of what should be done with urban refugees when they come to Nepal, while illustrating the specific ways these refugees have been denied a better quality of life from the institutions of global society specifically entrusted to help them.

Aashif Aaqash, an Ahmadi refugee who currently works as a tutor, must travel over forty kilometers a day on public buses to attend classes. He starts early in the morning and returns late at night. He has sought help from the UNHCR in obtaining a motorcycle permit, which would allow him more freedom to move around the city; but in this pursuit, along with many others, he has been denied. “The UNHCR has told us again and again to seek jobs. I asked them, if they would not help us in these small matters, how do they expect us to manage for ourselves?” says Aashif.

At eighteen years old, Aashif was forced from Pakistan following a string of threats against his and his family’s life. After returning home from a high school exchange program in Pennsylvania, an anti-American mob threw stones at his home and called him a traitor and infidel. When Aashif’s family contacted local police, they refused to help upon realizing that Aashif was an Ahmadi. The next month, Aashif’s friend was shot dead outside of his home. Aashif’s father was later shot at while riding this motorbike, the bullets puncturing the bike’s front wheel but sparing his father’s life. Aashif reports living in fear to attend classes or go to mosque for the next year; but the final straw came when three strangers attempted to kidnap him and his cousin, who both only narrowly escaped.

In late April 2013, Aashif and his family left Pakistan and traveled to Nepal with the intention of seeking asylum through the UNHCR. After one year of processing, they were finally granted refugee status. As of January 2016, his family’s case has picked up sponsorship from an Ahmadi charity organization titled Humanity First, and they will be relocated to Calgary, Canada.

In recounting his story and other injustices the Ahmadis have faced, Aashif’s frustration is evident: like many refugee youth, he’s been transplanted in a foreign country that provides little opportunity for his future. As older members of the community with their own families to worry about, Irfan and Aneela also question what will happen to the young Ahmadis, who have nowhere to claim as their own, no clear paths to education beyond fifteen years old, and no protection from local authorities. “If we die here, then what was the point of leaving Pakistan?” asks Aneela.

Following the weeklong sit-in outside the UNHCR gate, officials agreed to re-open Aneela’s case, citing errors they conducted during the initial interview process. Starting on August 28th, 2015, they re-interviewed Aneela, her brother, and other members of her family. However, on October 2nd, Aneela learned she’d been denied her second appeal for refugee status by the UNHCR. Her family is now stuck paying their nearly $60,000 tourist visa fine, or face imprisonment. “It’s injustice,” she says. “The government can stop this.”

Aneela’s case reveals the politics of refugee representation in Nepal – a slim distinction between “illegal migrant” and “refugee” that means Aneela and each member of her family have been charged a $5 visa fine for every day they seek refugee status and protection in Nepal. This policy is one of the strictest for asylum seekers in Asia, with Nepal using the fine as a deterrent against refugee migration. For those who do receive refugee status from the UNHCR, they must appeal to have the visa fines waived by the government. The wait for this averages an additional one and a half years to be processed, with the end result all-the-while uncertain.

Aneela and her community members confide that while the earthquake was devastating to their morale, it’s the bitter winter and the current fuel blockade between the Nepali and Indian border that is making life almost unbearable. To stay afloat, the Ahmadis rely on the strength and resilience of their local community: every Friday is reserved for prayer, while Saturdays at their community center in Kathmandu offer religious education, sports, and women-run workshops.

On such a Saturday, Irfan sits in the center’s office, the wall to his left flanked by portraits of the Ahmadi Supreme Leaders. He possesses no consternation at these immovable men, no remorse over having sacrificed home and health for his faith. Irfan only touches his glasses and says, “Two years ago, our children were like the flowers. They were smiling. Today, they don’t have hope; sometimes they will ask, ‘Father, what will happen to us? What is our future?’ And we don’t have answers.”