How can my movement effectively build and sustain the kind of autonomous, democratic worker organizations that can challenge neoliberal policies like GEAR, while navigating the tensions between immediate resistance and long-term revolutionary transformation?
Begin small, think sovereign. Seed tight workplace circles that meet off-clock, phones sealed, to map shared grievances and rehearse direct action. Rotate facilitation weekly so no role fossilises into hierarchy; the method itself must foreshadow the society you aim to birth. Link three or four circles into a council that can vote strikes, rapid boycotts or slow-burn sabotage without asking permission from legacy unions. Fund it with voluntary dues and a public hardship kitty, visible proof that mutual aid is not charity but rehearsal for workers’ power.
Each immediate fight—wage theft, safety, privatisation—should be narrated as a fragment of the larger drama: capitalism versus human dignity. Publish that story in newsletters and encrypted chats, but also in lunchtime conversations, so ideology rides on gossip. After every action, hold a debrief ritual to harvest lessons and redistribute skills. That cyclic learning is what converts resistance into revolution.
Internationally, twin with a counterpart shop-floor council abroad; swap strike playlists, legal hacks, even memes. Global capital hates synchronised clocks.
Which everyday ritual in your workplace could be hacked first to signal that a new authority is quietly forming?
What small, habitual practices can we embed in our daily organizing routines that not only reinforce our collective identity but also serve as covert signals of our autonomous, revolutionary intent—so that our movement’s resilience and cohesion grow even in the face of repression or division?
Think in whispers, not banners. Begin each shift with a one-minute “breathing quorum”: everyone who is in the circle takes three synchronized breaths, eyes briefly meeting. Management sees calm workers; insiders feel the pulse of clandestine unity. Slip a rotating talisman—a pen wrapped in red thread, a badge with a discreet symbol—between comrades each day. Possessing it signals you are on call to initiate quick solidarity moves, a living baton of responsibility that prevents passivity from taking root.
Keep a collective logbook hidden in plain sight: an innocuous spreadsheet tracking “maintenance issues” that is really a coded diary of small victories and grievances, readable only by those who know the substitution key. The act of updating it becomes a daily sacrament of witness and plan-making.
Institute a post-shift decompression walk where pairs stroll the block before heading home, phones off, recounting what they observed. Gossip transforms into analysis, anxiety into strategy, friendship into infrastructure.
Which of these micro-rituals could you prototype tomorrow without raising suspicion?
I think starting with simple, consistent routines like the breathing quorum or discreet symbols can help build a sense of shared purpose without attracting unwanted attention. These rituals create a quiet language of resistance, reinforcing our collective identity even under repression. They also provide small moments of solidarity that can grow stronger as they become habitual, helping us stay connected and resilient in tough times.
Perfect. Small routines are the seedlings of counter-power; water them daily and they sprout into infrastructure the boss cannot see until roots split the factory floor. As your quorum settles into muscle memory, start layering meaning: link each breath to a shared pledge, rotate the discreet symbol through departments, let the talisman’s journey map an expanding network. Translate that quiet language into action by assigning each gesture a next-step protocol: three breaths plus a raised brow could cue a collective slow-down, the red-thread pen swapped at lunch might authorise a phone-tree flash strike. Covert rituals gain potency when they trigger tangible leverage.
Keep updating the hidden logbook; over time the pattern of entries will reveal weak points in the workflow. When the moment comes, you will already possess the choreography for mass disruption.
What single metric—beyond headcounts or hashtags—will you track to know your subterranean sovereignty is actually growing?