From Oligarchy to Commons

Reclaiming neglected resources as foundations of revolutionary self-rule

Introduction

Revolution is seldom defeated by repression alone. More often, its vitality decays in the aftermath of victory, when movements mistake regime change for liberation. In archipelagos and nations alike, the overthrow of a dictator has too frequently birthed another oligarchy rather than an egalitarian order. The challenge is not merely to topple the visible tyrant but to dissolve the structures that sustain capital’s dominion over daily life. Electoral victories provide symbols, not sovereignty; freedom cannot be legislated by those whose wealth depends on subjection.

When democracy substitutes one dynasty for another, disillusion spreads like a contagion. Activists find themselves caught between the immediacy of protest and the slow labor of reconstruction. Yet it is precisely in that tension where genuine liberation germinates. True revolution requires more than massing bodies in public squares; it demands reclaiming the means of survival—land, water, housing, communication—and converting them into commons governed directly by the community. The path forward is both pragmatic and prophetic: meet material needs while rehearsing a culture of self-rule that makes the state obsolete.

The question, then, is how to generate grassroots institutions that embody revolutionary values, avoid capture by another elite, and spread fast enough to shift the nation’s moral imagination. The answer lies in a disciplined blend of immediacy and patience, visibility and humility, rhythm and renewal.

The Illusion of Regime Change

Every failed revolution repeats the same myth: that altering the ruler transforms the system. History’s evidence says otherwise. The People Power Revolt of 1986, the Arab Spring of 2011, and countless color revolutions have each demonstrated the trap of representative substitution. The masses rise, the tyrant flees, and soon familiar hierarchies reconstitute themselves in polished rhetoric. Why does each cycle end where it began?

The reason is structural. Elections and transitions happen inside the same capitalist matrix that created the tyrant. When movements channel energy toward replacing presidents rather than rewriting economic relations, power remains intact. Without dismantling ownership patterns and dependency on global capital, even a new constitution can become another mask for oligarchic stability.

The state’s survival mechanism is co-optation. Every uprising is offered a role as stakeholder instead of outsider. Protesters are invited into advisory committees, NGOs replace barricades, and dissent becomes a career. The spectacle of democracy devours the substance of revolution. This betrayal is not unique to any nation; it is the modern condition of activism under neoliberal rule.

To escape this cycle, movements must pivot from appealing to power toward constructing parallel legitimacy. The goal is not reform but replacement: building living alternatives that undercut the need for the state itself. Only by embedding daily life in common governance can revolution resist reverting to monarchy in civilian dress.

The Mendiola Lesson

In post-dictatorship Philippines, the Mendiola Massacre served as a brutal reminder of this illusion. When peasant movements pleaded for agrarian reform from a presidency born of protest, they received bullets, not titles to land. The uprising’s moral center shifted instantly from hope to betrayal. Radical voices were purged, the military regained authority, and neoliberal economics cloaked itself in democratic legitimacy. What could have been a revolutionary harvest became fertilizer for new forms of repression.

From these scars we learn: the battlefield of freedom is not the palace but the plantation, the factory, the sea. To overthrow a president without seizing the means of production is to repaint the cage. Therefore, revolutionary strategy must bind political aspiration to material transformation. Sovereignty cannot be declared; it must be cultivated in soil reclaimed from neglect.

Building Sovereignty from Below

If leadership transitions fail, sovereignty must begin at the grassroots. The smallest unit of freedom is the council—local, rotating, transparent, participatory. Councils, cooperatives, and neighborhood assemblies function as proto-sovereign institutions, seeds of a new social contract rooted in lived autonomy.

Anatomy of a Revolutionary Council

Each council should address one urgent, unmet need: water distribution, food security, legal aid, or energy access. By solving the concrete problem the state ignores, councils gain immediate legitimacy. Their structure must prefigure the egalitarian society they seek to build. The essential design principles include:

1. Rotation: Leadership changes every lunar cycle to prevent concentration of power.
2. Transparency: All budgets are posted publicly and physically in shared spaces.
3. Reciprocity: Those who labor earn decision rights; those who decide must labor.
4. Replication: Each new council copies the constitutional DNA but adapts to its environment.

Culture grows through repetition anchored in variation. This pattern, sameness of principle with diversity of form, inoculates the movement against bureaucratization and corruption. The council model thrives precisely because it is small, legible, and emotionally resonant—a direct answer to alienation under state capitalism.

Economies of the Commons

Material independence is the council’s lifeblood. Without its own revenue streams, it becomes dependent on donors, who inevitably reshape priorities. Economic autonomy arises through collectively owned productive assets: cooperative rice mills, solar grids, fisheries managed under community charters. Surpluses flow into a shared treasury whose allocations are decided publicly across federations of councils. Such “solidarity circuits” recycle value internally, shielding the movement from market absorption and NGO dependency.

Scaling happens horizontally, not vertically. Councils do not merge into a national bureaucracy; they convene periodically in assemblies of assemblies, exchanging experience and ritual rather than authority. This confederation style reflects lessons from the Zapatistas, the Rojava communes, and countless indigenous federations that survived empire by dispersing power into networks of accountability.

By grounding sovereignty in daily survival, councils convert political theory into necessity. When a barangay drinks clean water from its cooperative well while government taps run dry, legitimacy shifts imperceptibly but decisively.

Rhythms of Action and Reflection

Movements perish when they mistake motion for momentum. Mass protests, while exhilarating, become predictable rituals easily contained. Conversely, endless workshops without visible confrontation breed apathy. Sustainability demands rhythm—a cycle of intense visibility followed by quiet consolidation. Each heartbeat of revolution alternates between creation and disruption.

A tricycle drivers’ collective might organize a one-day “zero fare” strike to dramatize the dream of a post-profit transportation system, then retreat to months of internal training in mechanical repair and budget literacy. The two phases feed each other: spectacle draws converts; structure retains them. Proper timing—launching during moments of social tension, withdrawing before repression hardens—turns this rhythm into strategic tempo.

The principle is simple: build when the gaze fades, strike when imagination peaks. Every pause should generate infrastructure for the next wave. In this rhythm lies the continuity that eluded the aftermath of EDSA.

Seizing Neglected Resources

Every revolution needs terrain. The modern battlefield is not geographical conquest but reclamation of wasted spaces. Abandoned lots, idle fish ponds, and defunct clinics litter the landscape as monuments to bureaucratic apathy. Each one is a dormant commons awaiting activation.

The Four Criteria for Liberation Sites

Mobilizing around neglected resources should satisfy four conditions:

1. Immediate Use Value: The resource must meet an urgent need—food, water, shelter, healing.
2. Symbolic Clarity: Its capture must reveal a moral truth about state negligence.
3. Accessibility: Volunteers can physically transform it within days, not months.
4. Replicability: The model can spread to other communities with minimal technical expertise.

By choosing targets that fulfill these criteria, movements combine practical benefit with viral imagery. A dried-up public fountain converted into a working water source says more about self-rule than a thousand manifestos.

The Ritual of Transformation

Every seizure must begin as ritual rebirth. At dawn volunteers converge to clear debris, plant crops, repaint walls, set up solar panels. The act is streamed live: not for spectacle but for pedagogy. Transformation is the message. Naming the reclaimed space after the community, not the organizers, ensures shared identity. Governance should begin that same day through an open assembly governed by a simple rule—those who work decide.

Within two weeks the commons must yield tangible benefits: vegetables, potable water, medical consultations, electricity. Early success gives emotional credibility that state propaganda cannot erase. Should authorities threaten eviction, the people defend not ideology but livelihood, framing repression as an assault on communal wellbeing.

Legitimacy Through Example

Replication is success’s true metric. When neighboring barangays adapt the template, a social contagion ignites. Each site modifies the blueprint according to local context, forming a living network of autonomous territories. The system thrives on demonstrative propaganda: victory made visible through improved quality of life. Ordinary citizens do not join because of pamphlets; they join because they crave what they have seen elsewhere.

Unlike electoral campaigns that depend on persuasion, commons-building spreads through contagion. The slogan writes itself: Whatever is abandoned belongs to the people who revive it. This narrative reframes revolution as restoration—the resurrection of civic dignity from bureaucratic neglect.

Narrative as the Architecture of Power

Material victories must crystallize into story. Without mythic coherence, scattered acts of self-management remain isolated experiments. Effective movements engineer an overarching narrative that invites collective authorship.

Crafting the Story of Communal Rebirth

A successful narrative transforms an act of possession into an act of liberation. Instead of claiming, “We occupied land,” proclaim, “We brought this place back to life.” The moral protagonist is the community; the antagonist is apathy. This framing converts every participant into a healer rather than an invader.

Concrete storytelling details amplify authenticity. Describe the scratch of rusted gates, the scent of soil reopening, the laughter during cleanup. These sensual cues translate politics into poetry. Naming the project after the neighborhood cements ownership in memory. By refusing personal credit, organizers ensure continuity beyond themselves.

Once the story coheres, replicate it across media ecosystems. Murals, community radio, TikTok clips, and local newspapers should echo the same heartbeat. Every post should conclude with an invitation to replicate: “See an abandoned space? Revive it. Rule it together.” Visibility functions not as bragging but as summons.

Protecting the Narrative from Co-optation

Success attracts predators. Politicians, donors, and influencers will attempt to brand the commons as their own. Guard against this by institutional humility: open archives, rotating spokespersons, refusal of personal hero worship. The narrative must remain collective property, guarded by principle rather than charisma.

Public transparency disarms corruption. Livestream decision meetings when possible; publish budgets even when trivial. The more eyes you invite, the fewer hands can steal. Radical transparency transforms perception: instead of secrecy equating rebellion, openness itself becomes subversive against aristocratic norms.

When the Story Becomes Law

As the narrative spreads, legitimacy crosses a threshold. Communal law begins to compete with state regulation. Residents turn to their councils for conflict resolution, resource distribution, even security. Each success redefines the boundaries of authority. Over time, the state’s presence shrinks to an afterthought while the commons governs the rhythm of life.

Revolution, then, is not a future event but a present grammar. People learn that freedom is not given but practiced. The next challenge is scaling this grammar without abandoning its radical syntax.

Scaling Without Hierarchy

Scaling is both temptation and test. Growth may lure activists toward centralization, risking the birth of another bureaucracy in revolutionary colors. To expand while retaining spirit, movements must privilege coherence over control.

Horizontal Expansion through Federation

Each council remains autonomous but federates through shared rituals, festivals, and cooperative trade. Quarterly assemblies rotate hosts; resolutions are advisory, never binding. This structure mirrors the resilience of mycelial networks: independent yet interlinked. When one cell faces repression, others absorb its members and resources instantly. Decentralization becomes armor.

Knowledge circulates through itinerant trainers and travelling toolkits, not permanent offices. The goal is to spread capability, not command. In this model, power is measured not by territory held but by self-governing communities ignited.

Financial Sustainability

A revolution that cannot feed itself dies young. Cooperatives must diversify revenue sources: production, services, arts, technology. Establish community treasuries funded by micro-contributions rather than external grants. When surplus appears, reinvest in weakest nodes. Mutual aid becomes economic metabolism.

Avoid donor dependency at all costs. External funding, even when benevolent, brings bureaucratic gatekeeping and mission drift. Instead, draw on local solidarity savings, time banking, and cooperative credit cycles that convert trust into capital. When money circulates within liberated zones, every peso becomes a political statement.

The Role of Symbolic Disruption

While councils quietly build, periodic public actions sustain moral visibility. These are not spectacles for spectacle’s sake but synchronized demonstrations of collective capacity. Imagine a nationwide “Commons Day” where all councils offer free public services for twenty-four hours: meals, repairs, childcare, clinics. Such events dramatize decentralized strength while remaining non-confrontational. The state faces a dilemma: suppress altruism or concede irrelevance.

Symbolic disruptions should always tie back to tangible institutions. Protest alone evaporates; protest anchored in existing alternatives crystallizes credibility. When repression strikes, people defend what nourishes them, not merely what they believe.

Psychological Armor and Ritual Renewal

Any long revolution risks fatigue. To prevent burnout, movements need rituals of decompression. Annual festivals of gratitude, days of silence, and collective retreats serve as psychic maintenance. Without spiritual hygiene, even the most just cause decays into dogma.

Integrating music, art, and play within governance re-enchants activism. The sobriety of revolution must coexist with joy; otherwise it reproduces the alienation it seeks to abolish. Sustained liberation is not only structural but emotional.

Putting Theory Into Practice

The transformation from idea to institution begins with disciplined steps. The following guide distills lessons from historical and contemporary movements.

1. Conduct Listening Brigades: Deploy small teams to survey neighborhoods and identify neglected resources that evoke collective frustration. Document stories rather than statistics.
2. Select a Liberation Site: Choose one location that meets the four criteria—urgent need, clear symbol, accessible scale, replicable design.
3. Issue a Public Invitation: Announce a dawn assembly for communal cleanup or construction. Frame it as rebirth, not protest.
4. Establish the Charter: At the first meeting, adopt a short constitution specifying rotation, transparency, and reciprocity. Display it publicly.
5. Deliver a Quick Win: Within two weeks, produce visible output: harvest, water supply, clinic day, or energy restoration. This anchors legitimacy.
6. Document and Broadcast: Use storytelling tools—murals, social media, oral traditions—to share successes while inviting replication.
7. Form a Commons Federation: After three or more councils emerge, organize periodic assemblies for resource sharing and conflict mediation. Keep decisions advisory.
8. Create a Solidarity Treasury: Pool small surpluses into a cooperative fund to sustain weaker nodes and resist external dependency.
9. Alternate Visibility and Build Phases: Balance spectacular moments of solidarity with quiet periods of internal education and production.
10. Guard Psychological Health: Integrate art, rest, and celebration into revolutionary routine; joy is the movement’s renewable energy.

Each step reclaims a fragment of daily life from capital’s enclosure and reweaves it into the commons’ tapestry. The cumulative effect is slow yet irreversible: sovereignty migrating from parliament to people.

Conclusion

The path from oligarchy to commons demands patience equal to passion. Overthrowing despots without replacing their foundations reproduces tyranny in civilian garb. Genuine liberation requires constructing grassroots institutions that assume roles once monopolized by the state—feeding, healing, deciding. Each reclaimed resource becomes a proof of concept, each council a microcosm of self-rule.

The ultimate revolution will not march on palaces but germinate in gardens, clinics, cooperatives, and assemblies born of need and imagination. When communities learn that they can govern essentials without permission, no election can seduce them back into dependency. The collapse of one oligarchy then becomes irrelevant, for the people no longer await saviors.

The decisive question for every activist and organizer is immediate: Which neglected resource around you could become the seedbed of collective sovereignty within six months? The answer you choose will determine whether the next revolution flowers or fades.