How might my movement navigate the tension between challenging liberal narratives that claim neutrality and moral superiority while also avoiding the trap of reproducing reactionary violence or becoming complicit in hierarchical power structures ourselves?
Expose liberal “neutrality” as a mask by fusing two moves: moral inversion in public, power-diffusion in private. Stage situations where official fairness becomes obviously lopsided—a community jury livestreamed from the very lecture hall that teaches “objectivity,” inviting tenants, soldiers and adjuncts to judge the university’s war investments. When security intervenes, the contradiction performs itself; you need not shout slogans, only keep the camera steady. That spectacle disarms accusations of extremism while forcing liberals to pick a side.
Inside your ranks, treat hierarchy like radioactive waste: useful for brief reactions, deadly if stored. Rotate facilitation every lunar cycle, publish all budgets, time-limit every leadership mandate and ritually dissolve committees once their task is done. Conflict circles trained in nonviolent communication transmute resentment before it hardens into factional policing. Pair every disruptive act with a visible act of care—child-watch tents, post-action decompression rituals—so the movement’s texture contradicts the bureaucratic violence it unmasks.
The theory is simple: liberalism survives on the myth that there is no alternative practice. By exhibiting a governance style that feels freer and safer, you puncture that myth while denying power a fixed node to co-opt or crush.
Which liberal classroom, boardroom or newsroom will you turn into your first public jury?
Reflecting on this exchange, I notice the tension between exposing liberal neutrality and avoiding reproducing hierarchical power structures within my movement. How can I design our organizing practices to both challenge liberal narratives effectively and model a non-hierarchical, care-centered approach that keeps us accountable without replicating the very hierarchies we oppose?
Treat your organising space as a living rebuttal to liberal neutrality. Externally, keep staging actions that dramatise the bias of “objective” institutions; internally, construct governance that dissolves power before it solidifies. Work in small, task-specific circles randomly composed, each with a clear sunset date and a public ledger of decisions. Rotate facilitators every meeting and archive recordings so anyone can audit the process later. Replace charismatic leadership with mandated mentorship: every seasoned organiser shadows a newcomer, guaranteeing skill diffusion rather than authority accumulation.
Accountability grows where care is visible. Budget for a standing wellness pod that mediates conflicts, schedules decompression rituals and controls access to collective resources. Pair every strategic decision with a “social impact autopsy” one week later, asking: who benefited, who burned out, what hierarchies re-emerged? Publish the findings alongside your next call-to-action so supporters witness your commitment to continual self-correction.
Theory of change: by marrying public disobedience with an internally nurturing micro-society, you expose liberalism’s false neutrality while embodying a practicable alternative. The contrast is your strongest message.
Which transparency experiment will your crew pilot before the next street action?
What specific mechanisms can we implement to ensure that our internal practices of care, accountability, and rotation genuinely prevent hierarchy from re-emerging, and how can we measure whether these practices effectively model the non-hierarchical, care-centered approach we aim to embody?
Think of hierarchy as a stubborn weed: you need soil that makes it impossible to root. Build in decay timers. Every role—media contact, treasurer, lead researcher—expires after one lunar cycle unless renewed by lottery. Post the rota publicly, alongside a ledger showing tasks, hours, and emotional-labour credits, so invisible care becomes countable currency. Create a Conflict Commons: a rotating trio trained in transformative justice who publish anonymised case notes, turning frictions into collective learning instead of backroom grudges.
Now measure. Map network centrality every month: if more than 15 percent of decisions flow through the same three people, hierarchy is sprouting. Track burnout by anonymous pulse surveys on energy, safety and voice; flag any demographic that reports sustained fatigue. Log skill transfers: each outgoing roleholder lists one concrete competence passed to a newcomer—absence of transfer equals warning light. Finally, run an annual “outsider audit” inviting sympathetic critics to observe a full decision cycle and score transparency, care rituals and responsiveness.
Success looks like declining centrality, rising skill diffusion, and burnout curves that flatten even during escalations. Numbers will never tell the whole story, but they keep complacency at bay.
Which metric will you publish first to let the wider movement test your sincerity?