Declare no victories: we are never done

Democracy is a dish best served hot, it seems. Otherwise, it curdles and dries out and draws in on itself, like some mysterious thing left in the fridge too long.

In my totally not-even-resembling-a-historian way, I’ve been looking at various social and justice movements throughout the years… I won’t say I’ve studied them, because I haven’t. As someone with right hemisphere brain dominance (lovely excuse, that), I tend not to gather facts and figures so much as impressions. And it’s my impression that nothing describes the history of social change better than imagining it all as a big PushMePullYou. There you go… fair warning.

What interests me most about social movements is not so much how they have begun, but how they’ve ended. And they all have, you know… ended, that is, at least for the vast majority of people.

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The beginnings seem fairly simple and cyclical; from under the weight of great injustice or oppression, of fear, of the need to feed their children or to have some semblance of power or control over their own lives, people rise up and demand change, sometimes at great danger to themselves. A visionary leader appears to articulate the demands, and to be the voice and heart of the movement, and eventually the people are heard. The reaction of those in power is sometimes to use violence; imprisonment, threats to family or reputation and whatever methods are are their disposal, in an attempt to repress the movement or eliminate the leaders. Eventually, the people in power often accept the inevitable, or someone else comes into power that recognizes that this is something that won’t go away, and so talks are begun, accommodations are made and demands are met. Some, at least.

(Terribly over-simplified, I know. But remember, as these are just general impressions, I can do that.)

So, then what? Well, having gotten what they came for, or some facsimile thereof, most everyone goes home and sets about the business of leading their (hopefully) improved lives.  They’ve gotten the right to vote, the right to self-rule, the right to organize, the right to control their own bodies, to cleaner air and water…whatever it is they were fighting for, (and which many of us who came afterwards take for granted), and now are quite justifiably ready to enjoy the fruits of their labor. All is well. Or, almost.

In the matter of movements for social change, I would say there is nothing so dangerous or damaging as a declaration of victory. Even a little one. Because it seems as soon as that happens, the pullyou begins. As we settle into our better, more comfortable lives, we sometimes forget to be watchful. After all, we won, didn’t we? We’ve had successes… the Labor Movement, and the Women’s Movement, and the Civil Rights Movement, and the Poor Peoples Movement, and the Environmental Movement, and the Non-Violent Revolutions, and… well looking at this list, I would say to start mourning any movement as soon as its put into capital letters, because thats’s a sure sign they’ve been done in. Silly way of looking at it, I know, but still…

Once campaigns for social progress settle down (or even before) and become part of Our History, then the clean-up work by those who oppose progress quietly begins. It sometimes seems that as time marches forward and people become more complacent and comfortable, with their jobs, and families and mortgages, the social progress movements and the gains they made are encased in amber and moved off the conveyor belt, so that while things don’t always move backwards, they often fail to move forward much. There is a bit of bait and switch that goes on, tit for tat, policies are proposed and laws are passed to placate and give at least the illusion of progress even though in the long run no one’s given up much. And we are pacified, for a time. Eventually we catch on and wind up fighting for the same things all over again, maybe under a different name.

Of course, there are always some who are never satisfied and never give up and never shut up. They are the ones that help keep things simmering just below the surface, until the next time things come to a boil and we have a movement for change.

If I ever stopped rambling along and came to a point, it would look something like this:

We know how to start movements. We know how to mobilize, organize, and energize. We know how to effect change, how to get things done… we’re experts at this, by now. And “They”, on the other side, are expert at recognizing an incipient movement, forming initial opposition, and then seemingly giving in and giving up something, while actually only temporarily granting a concession as a pacifier, for a time, until they can maneuver to take it back.

So here is my question (hopefully you weren’t thinking I had any answers). We are on the verge right now of a new progressive movement for social change, I believe. Things are gearing up in many places, people are forming their coalitions, making out their plans of attack, and so on. The beginning has begun… what I want to know is, how do we keep it from ending? What do we have in place, or should we put in place, to prevent us from becoming The Movement for Social Change (by any name), that has a beginning and an end, and instead make progressive change that encompasses all a continuous effort?

I suppose we have to also consider… what will we be pacified with next? And will we recognize it when it comes?

An Elephant Pause

It pains me, sometimes, that Republicans have taken such a complex and fascinating animal as the elephant as their symbol, as they certainly don’t live up it. (It also pains me that Democrats quite often live up to their symbol, but I guess that’s part of being in the reality based community ;). But this diary is not politics and symbols, or even animals… or not really, anyway.

I read an article somewhere, a long time ago, the poignancy of which stuck with me for a long time. It was explaining how elephants are migratory creatures, wandering over hundreds and hundreds of miles a year, through fairly well established feeding and resting areas, the same routes time after time. Well, until their areas are taken up by ‘civilization’, but that’s another story. Of course, some of their group dies from time to time, from old age, or disease or an attack. The remaining herd will stay around for a brief period, holding what could be termed a sort of mourning/goodbye ceremony, before moving on. But that’s not the end of it.
The elephants continue on their journeys, foraging for food, mating, breeding, birthing new baby elephants along the way, until eventually the circle comes closed again and they return to the areas where they left their dead… and pause. By this time, a year or so after the death, there is nothing left of the dead elephant but bones and maybe tusks, but the older elephants, during the pause, reach out their trunks and gently pat and stroke the remains, with others coming forward to do the same… before they again move on to the next destination.

No one knows what they are doing or thinking during that pause… are they just identifying a dead body through smell? Are they remembering the one they lost, and doing the equivalent of placing flowers on a grave? Are they seeking solace, strength, comfort from the proximity of their former friend, cousin, aunt, uncle? Do they think about us, humans, and shake their heads? Or, are they just curious as to what this is that seems so familiar but so foreign…

I don’t know, and of course at this point in time, it’s impossible to tell. And, realistically, we’ll never be able to tell unless we learn to speak and understand their language. Maybe when we evolve a bit more. But, it doesn’t actually matter in relation to this piece, because this is not about elephants. Or, not really… it’s about the need, from time to time, for an Elephant Pause.

Between Schiavo, grandstanding Republicans, bankruptcy bills, social security/medicare insolvency, IraqIranSyriaLebanoIsrael schoolshootingsjudgekillingsgenocidewardeathreligiousrightandtheocracy sometimes I feel like I’m in a whirlwind of bad news, and that it wouldn’t bother me at all if a meteor hit the earth or something and just got rid of everyone. That’s when I know it’s time to just stop and reflect and remember.

Just about anything can be an elephant pause.. kid o’s diaries come to mind. You’ll be rushing along, busy, busy, busy with everything and he’ll quietly appear, hold up a finger and with a smile and soft touch, bid you stop for a moment and see what he sees… and remember what matters most.  Or meeting people in the oddest places and situations, the little moments that affirm your belief in humanity and in the goodness of many people that you might miss because your vision is filled to the brim with other things.

Like the spiky, multicolored haired kid, weighted from head to toe with odd pieces of metal stuck through his skin, who graciously, unasked, and with a smile, offered me the use of his cell phone when it became clear that the people on the pay phones were going to be there a while. Or, hearing them before I could see them the other day, the young former gang member, covered with tattoos, and his 3 year old son… walking along the street shouting at each other. They are having a contest, he explains when he reaches me, each shouting “I LOVE YOU!” at the top of their lungs… to see who loves who the most.

Little things, most of them, unimportant in themselves, but that bring a smile when they come to mind, and a good feeling… all is not lost, all will never be lost, as long as someone is around to smile, and pause, and remember.

What are your pause memories?