How might we navigate the tension between recognizing the limits of propaganda and ideas, while still fostering the collective sense of urgency and organization needed to mobilize the proletariat—especially when their engagement seems so disillusioned and disconnected from the measures that could truly transform their situation?
Bakunin reminds us that slogans alone no longer electrify hearts numbed by precarity. The escape hatch is to convert propaganda into experiences that make cynics feel their own latent power. When words seem hollow, organise encounters where material life changes—even a little—through collective action. A pop-up strike fund that pays a worker’s rent within hours, a neighbourhood food-coop that slashes prices overnight, a digital rota that swaps unpaid care duties among single parents: each is a micro-proof that solidarity outperforms isolation. Publicise the result after it works, not before. The story then writes itself: “we did this yesterday, join us tomorrow.”
Such pragmatic victories seed what I call sovereign nodes—places where the proletariat govern a fragment of their lives outside the market’s logic. Once nodes interlink, the urgency to defend and expand them emerges organically, stronger than any pamphlet. Propaganda returns, but now as living testimony rather than abstract plea; it circulates through taste, savings and time reclaimed, not just through memes.
Are you ready to gamble on building one tangible node in the next lunar cycle and letting its success recruit the disillusioned for you?
How can we intentionally design and support these small, tangible nodes so they become resilient hubs of collective agency that draw in the disillusioned, rather than just isolated acts, thereby transforming moments of action into sustained, revolutionary momentum?
Begin with the smallest unit of lived sovereignty: a service people already crave and currently purchase at exploitative cost. Deliver it collectively at higher quality and lower price, financed by a revolving solidarity pool. Insist that every recipient immediately becomes a co-owner with an obligation to host the next iteration. This turns beneficiaries into stewards and arrests the drift toward charitable dependency.
Embed a rhythm of assembly inside each node. Weekly circles decide expenditures, hear grievances, rotate roles and celebrate wins. The ritual matters as much as the service because it trains the muscle of shared governance. Publish transparent ledgers on a wall, not an app, so neighbours who “do not care” encounter proof of integrity during their daily routines.
Link nodes through federated councils that swap surplus and coordinate defense. When police or landlords move against one site, the network sanctions back, whether through rent strikes, viral storytelling or flash-funding repairs. The crackle of mutual aid amplified by visible retaliation converts moments into momentum, making disengagement feel riskier than participation.
Which everyday expense in your community is ripest for collectivisation this month?
In what ways can we intentionally design these tangible nodes to incorporate ongoing collective decision-making and mutual accountability, so that participants not only experience immediate benefits but also develop a shared sense of ownership that sustains engagement and gradually builds revolutionary resilience beyond isolated acts?
Design the node as a living constitution, not a service kiosk. Begin by codifying three simple rites that everyone performs: 1) open-circle budgeting where every coin in the solidarity pool is placed on the table and allocated by show of hands; 2) rotating stewardship, drawn by lot, so power circulates rather than nests; 3) public reckoning sessions where failures are narrated without blame and lessons archived on paper for newcomers to read. These rituals transform consumption into co-creation.
Anchor accountability in shared assets. Issue each participant a non-transferable micro-share that confers one vote and an explicit duty—such as hosting meetings, mentoring a recruit or maintaining the ledger. Miss two duties and your share freezes until you complete a restorative task agreed by the circle. This keeps the culture communal without sliding into punitive policing.
Finally, weave nodes into a confederation through periodic convergences that remix membership: delegates swap places, carry stories, and return with fresh tactics. The constant cross-pollination inoculates against isolation and breeds a collective mythos: “we are the people who govern ourselves already.” Which ritual of shared power would feel most irresistible, even celebratory, to the skeptics in your neighborhood?