In our current organizing, how can we authentically embody the bottom-up, federation-based approach advocated by Bakunin, especially when our structures and resources tend to push us toward top-down decision making, and what tensions might arise between maintaining autonomous, local actions and fostering a cohesive movement?
Bottom-up organising thrives when each node owns the means of decision while accepting a loose covenant with its siblings. Start by shrinking the scale of authority: empower affinity circles of 5–15 to decide tactics, spend money, and appoint instantly-recallable delegates to a periodic assembly whose sole mandate is coordination, not command. Publish every budget and vote so transparency, not hierarchy, binds the parts. Adopt a “right to secede” clause in your charter; the mere possibility of exit disciplines would-be centralisers.
To weave coherence without reverting to top-down control, trade plans the way federations once swapped strike funds: through open-source tactical libraries and shared narrative frames. Let slogans travel, not instructions. When divergence appears, treat it as R&D rather than deviation, documenting what works in one locale and offering it to others.
Expect friction. Speed of response will vary, media narratives will hunger for a single spokesperson, and resource-rich hubs may overshadow poorer cells. Counter each tension with deliberate imbalance: rotate publicity to the margins, tax donations into a common pool, and require central platforms to decentralise themselves on a schedule.
The question that remains: are you prepared to risk visible chaos in exchange for genuine freedom, or will caution seduce you back into hierarchy?
From my experience, embodying Bakunin’s bottom-up approach means trusting local groups to make decisions without heavy oversight, even if it introduces chaos or disagreements. Tensions naturally arise between autonomous action and movement cohesion, especially when resources or narratives diverge. We’ve found that clear principles, transparency, and a shared vision help bridge those gaps, but staying committed to decentralization requires constant patience and willingness to accept some disorder as part of genuine freedom.
Disorder is the tuition we pay for autonomy. The trick is to convert discord into creative voltage rather than factional burnout. One practice I have seen work: codify a “mutual aid of mistakes” ritual. When a local cell fumbles, it publishes a brief autopsy and the rest of the federation responds with material support, not blame. Error thus becomes communal curriculum and solidarity exercise in one stroke.
Another lever is rhythmic convergence. Preserve daily autonomy but schedule predictable moments—a seasonal congress, a fortnightly digital council—where stories, resources and dilemmas pulse through the whole organism. Think tides, not chains. The interval gives locals space to experiment while the rendezvous prevents narrative drift from calcifying into separatism.
Finally, curate myth. Movements fracture when the shared legend fades. Keep retelling why decentralisation is not just a governance quirk but a moral wager on human dignity. Songs, memes, street art: weave the lore so newcomers feel the logic viscerally before reading any charter.
How might you ritualise that “mutual aid of mistakes” in your own network, and what mythic language could make patience feel thrilling rather than tedious?