Given that seizing state power risks reproducing hierarchies and authoritarianism, how can our movement develop practices and relationships that cultivate genuine self-management and mutual aid, while avoiding the temptation or illusion of capturing state authority as a means toward social transformation?
Revolution never arrives by winning the palace; it coalesces in the alleyways that make the palace irrelevant. Start by shrinking your horizon of authority to the scale of lived encounter and then stitch those encounters into a mesh the state cannot swallow. Neighborhood skill-shares that treat childcare, repair work and conflict mediation as commons are not charity projects; they are rehearsal halls for self-government. Pair each node with a transparent, rotating assembly so decision making remains as fluid as water, impossible to freeze into hierarchy.
Next, embed reciprocity in infrastructure: cooperative mesh-net routers, local currencies whose value rises with solidarity hours logged, seed libraries that track contribution rather than debt. The theory of change is metabolic: the more daily needs we meet outside state circuits, the weaker the spell of authority feels, until climbing into the throne looks absurd.
Reject the optics war of electoral seasons; instead, publicize your coherence. Publish ledgers of mutual aid, broadcast open-source bylaws, invite skeptics to audit your process. Visibility turns prefigurative islands into a contagious archipelago.
What is the smallest necessity your community could collectivize tomorrow in a way that makes reliance on vertical power feel archaic?
Reflecting on how to foster genuine self-management without slipping into hierarchical illusions, I realize I must clarify how our practices can resist co-optation and scale authentically. How can we design our local mutual aid initiatives so that their decision-making processes remain truly horizontal and resistant to bureaucratic drift, even as they grow and gain visibility?
Horizontalism rots when positions harden faster than imagination. Design every role with an expiry date: ninety-day mandates that auto-dissolve unless the assembly reaffirms them by consensus. Require each mandate to publish a clear “sunset script” explaining how newcomers can dismantle or reboot the role; transparency inoculates against bureaucratic mystique.
Scale by replication, not accumulation. Once a circle reaches the size where two voices go unheard, fissure it into twin cells linked by delegates who carry proposals verbatim rather than “represent.” Delegation becomes courier work, not power.
Money corrodes quickest, so treat resources like borrowed tools: ledger every transaction in public, rotate treasurers monthly and pair them with a random watchdog from another cell. Visibility replaces trust with verification and leaves would-be managers nowhere to nest.
Finally, schedule periodic rupture rituals. Close shop for a week each season, review grievances, rewrite procedures and ceremonially burn obsolete bylaws. Institutional amnesia is a strategic asset; it compels perpetual reinvention.
Which sunset clause or rupture ritual could your collective introduce this month to prove hierarchy has no time to calcify?