Learning from American Radicalism

OPINION / POLITICS

Learning about leftist and supposedly ‘radical’ movements in the United States, I have, for some time, been overtaken with melancholia at the desperate and floundering scenes that appear all-encompassing. Protests made lukewarm by centralised committees and infiltration, white ‘radicals’ refusing to support pre-existing indigenous and Black Liberation movements, those brief moments of joy that seem so often to lead absolutely nowhere. It can be disheartening. The American leftists we think of—whether in office, on the street, or behind our screens—are proving incompatible with any true progress.

A response I used to have to this failure was to say, “that’s just what the Left is now, in the US.” This seemed, to me, logical, even subversive: the militant labour revolts of Appalachia, the Panthers, the southern communes, all a thing of the past. History to be taught, excuses for neoliberal reform and cautionary tales, or aspirations often repeated but never truly desired.

But did that radical America really die, or does that revolutionary power still exist in places we are taught to ignore?

A year ago, I would have largely had historical examples to draw from. However, in these past months, a blossoming of radical action has been taking place on the scarred face of the United States. Not one of political parties, nor one springing from the manifesto of a committee, but one rising from the desperate public. This movement has no leader and does not share an ideological commitment beyond their willingness to lay down their lives and safety to protect their neighbours, and, upon further examination, is indicative of a deeper through line in American politics.

In early January this year, anarchist writer Margaret Killjoy and journalist James Stout travelled to Minneapolis to document the ICE detainments. It was winter, and so cold outside that hire vehicles used by ICE were regularly crashing. But, as Killjoy writes, this didn’t stop tens of thousands of residents from turning up in the streets of their city. For a general strike, yes, but perhaps more importantly, to directly disrupt the detainment of their neighbours.

Highlighted in their reporting is the dual-pronged approach to the threat of ICE and police: mutual aid on a massive scale, and a rapid-response network of unaffiliated citizens.

These two parts of the resistance in Minneapolis aren’t new, as they might seem, but are in fact only the latest iteration of a long-standing tactic in the US. Mutual aid groups have existed from the very beginning of modern radicalism, distributing necessities to communities and people in need in times of crisis. In Jim Crow America, mutual aid was undertaken by minority immigrant groups in low-income areas, to mitigate the worst effects of poverty. This work, though oft-maligned as being ineffective or as a ‘band-aid solution’, was never an end-goal, and was always most effectively paired with its sister-tactic.

Militant defence, whether armed or not, violent or not, wide-spread or small-scale, is a necessary counterpart to mutual aid. The obvious example is found in the duality of the Black Panther Party: programmes of food and education to improve the lives of people with immediacy, and programmes of militant political reorganisation.

Armed groups are less common on the modern scene, but as violence against the general population becomes increasingly widespread, it is reappearing. Small organisations of left-wing and liberal activists have begun training individuals who are usually the target of violence—immigrants, disabled people, women, gender and sexual minorities—to safely use firearms and defend themselves. Turning the system that previously enabled far right extremists to intimidate communities on its head provides the basis for movements that are less vulnerable and able to defend themselves from fascist crackdowns.

But how do these movements maintain their momentum? The state will, of course, stop at nothing to infiltrate and cripple radicalism. The answer comes in the same form as it always has:  decentralisation and community organising

In Minneapolis, there is no central command, no organising committee, no manifesto. But people join together all the same, despite brutal repression of even the most peaceful action. You might expect that feeding your neighbours would be the easiest and safest part of this movement, but the truth reveals a great deal about what the government and capitalists see as a true threat.

The mutual aid networks in Minneapolis remain largely underground and anonymous, relying on localised distribution of essential supplies by trusted neighbours, and low-profile community services. Food is cooked and delivered by those who aren’t at risk of deportation, and transport offered in the same way. This allows immigrants and minorities to remain in their homes for extended periods of time and keeps them near people they trust to respond if ICE tries to detain them at their own houses. Because this work requires contact with at-risk individuals, a centralised organising structure would make law-enforcement tracking of contacts and deliveries more of a risk, endangering people already in a precarious situation.

The response of civilians to ICE raids and detainment is particularly important. Initially, when immigration thugs began raids in Minneapolis, a raid could be multiple hours long, and result in many arrests. This allowed the public to organise large groups of people to intercept ICE vehicles and block arrests. As it turns out, what scares immigration agents into leaving is being outnumbered. To work around this, ICE began rapidly reducing the time spent detaining people, to the point where someone could be abducted within just a few minutes.

It might seem like an insurmountable issue, but this change sparked perhaps the most impressive display of organised resistance to ICE that we’ve seen yet. People began patrolling their city in groups, carrying hand-warmers and whistles, watching for Immigration Control vehicles. These vehicles are often unmarked, without state plates, and so these groups became adept at spotting them.

Killjoy and Stout were driving a truck with non-Minnesota plates, and within the first few days of being in Minneapolis, they were stopped by civilians who had noticed their vehicle. Of course, no real confrontation followed—both Killjoy and Stout being radicals themselves—despite multiple murders of peaceful protesters by ICE agents during the same week that their reporting took place.  But this shows that what we are often told of crisis is untrue: people in the US are not inherently selfish, they do not give in to fascism easily. Instead of hiding away or trying to protect their comfortability, the general public came together to try and prevent state violence from stealing away the lives of people they had never met.

So, how does any of this help us understand our position in Aotearoa? At the time of writing, the Immigration (Enhanced Risk Management) Amendment Bill has closed submissions. The amendment would extend the time needed to gain legal protections within our country for immigrants with prior convictions and remove many restrictions on the conduct of immigration officers. In essence, these are the first building blocks of an ICE-style system designed to criminalise and endanger people residing in Aotearoa based on their criminal records.

We already know that immigrants and asylum seekers are politically oppressed by our legal system—those who risk arrest in protest or advocacy are targeted by police, and threatened with risks of deportation. This is no more than another step in the same direction we’ve seen other Western nations choose, but this leaves us in a rather unique position. If we can see how states and businesses will continue to tighten their grip on our lives, and we can see what has worked to effectively combat these escalations, our options become far clearer: we must create a culture of mutual aid and support, build communities that are resilient in the face of government crackdowns and capitalist exploitation.

This cannot be led by a party, partaking in the legitimisation of a state built upon the graves of the colonised. It cannot be based upon central coordination, cannot be compromised by internal abuse and power imbalance.

We must do better than those who came before. We must organise in ways that are resilient to infiltration and sabotage. We must be uncompromising in our care for each other, in an era of poverty and unemployment. 

Everything for everyone, nothing for ourselves.