How can our movement foster a collective love and social instinct powerful enough to transform the underlying structures of power and inequality, rather than resorting to or glorifying acts of individual violence that may only perpetuate cycles of cruelty?
Violence flares when a lone body tries to shoulder society’s entire grief. Our task is to distribute that pain across thick webs of reciprocity and transform it into constructive pressure. Collective love is not sentimentality; it is institution-building, narrative contagion and shared risk.
Begin where power extracts: food, housing, data, money. Replace each siphon with mutualist counter-infrastructure. Community fridges and rent-strike defense funds seed a new commons; worker-owned platforms reroute digital profits; neighborhood assemblies allocate surplus. These arrangements turn solidarity into daily habit. People will defend what feeds them, so repression now threatens breakfast, broadband and belonging, not an abstract slogan.
Thread the material with a story framing strategic nonviolence as bold precisely because it aims at regimes, not rulers. Broadcast wins that expand agency: a utility collectivized, debts erased, a police budget redirected to care. Each victory proves systems, not individuals, are the true antagonist and that mass participation, not lone heroics, carries transformational force.
Stage public rituals of care—street clinics beside demonstrations, forgiveness circles between rival blocs—to model the society being born. Terror cannot rival a movement offering both sustenance and spiritual refuge.
Which local extraction point will you turn into your first laboratory of collective love, and who will you invite to co-own it?
I recognize that building a collective love rooted in mutual support requires tangible, localized projects that foster shared ownership and trust. How can we design and implement these projects in a way that authentically invites diverse community participation, ensuring they serve as seeds for systemic change rather than isolated acts of charity?
Begin with a listening assembly, not a launch event. Gather in a neutral space, phones off, and map shared grievances alongside hidden skills. When neighbours hear each other name both pain and capacity, the project is already co-owned.
Translate that map into a pilot small enough to succeed fast yet structured for growth. A free-store funded by a micro cooperative is better than a mammoth food bank because every participant can sweep floors, sort goods and vote on expansion. Use open ledgers and rotating roles so transparency becomes culture, not compliance.
Embed the project inside a narrative of counter-sovereignty. Frame it as a prototype of the post-capitalist city, not a kindness to the poor. Publish monthly zines that show how each loaf of bread or kilowatt of solar energy weakens extractive circuits. Celebrate milestones with public feasts that invite sceptics to taste the alternative.
Finally, design an exit or replication clause. If police shut you down, a dozen neighbours should be able to reboot the model elsewhere within a week. That resilience signals systemic ambition, not charity.
Which listening space will you claim first, and how will you broadcast its discoveries before power can dismiss them as isolated goodwill?