Category: Activism

Anarcha-Feminist Abortion Struggle: Reproductive Freedom and Dual Power

The Supreme Court’s plan to reverse Roe v. Wade means that abortion will likely soon become illegal for many people across the United States. As we search for effective responses, we can look to anarcha-feminist strategies to protect abortion by building mass movements and grassroots reproductive healthcare infrastructure. This week, I published two articles about this history; check out the excerpts below.

In the Washington Post, I contextualize our present moment and present The model for mobilizing to protect abortion rights beyond voting.

Beyond voting for candidates who support abortion rights at election time, what is to be done? The historical experiences of the feminist abortion struggle between the 1960s and 1990s offer alternative strategies. Feminists originally won reproductive rights through mass mobilization in the streets combined with widespread underground provision of abortion and other health care. These actions forced the Supreme Court to affirm a constitutional right to abortion in 1973.

[In the 1980s-90s] anarchists (anti-state socialists) within the feminist movement rejected voting and legal reforms in favor of radical grass-roots activism. Instead of the slogan “we’re pro-choice and we vote,” anarchists often marched behind a banner reading “we’re pro-choice and we riot!”

Following the example of second-wave feminists, anarchists framed abortion as a question of bodily autonomy and women’s liberation.

Heading into the 1990s, amid new right-wing attacks on abortion rights, anarcha-feminists in Love and Rage built grass-roots infrastructure to perform abortions and provide for reproductive health more broadly. They sought to build autonomy on their own terms by organizing self-help groups in which, San Francisco activist Sunshine Smith explained, “women learn the basics of self-cervical exams, do pelvics on each other, and learn how to do menstrual extraction.”

Anarchists believed this kind of infrastructure was key to bodily autonomy and helped lay the foundation for building revolutionary dual power: radical institutions that challenged the hegemony of the state. If women controlled their own bodies and institutions, they would no longer depend on the state to protect their rights.

The anarchist and feminist traditions of mass mobilization, autonomous health infrastructure and grass-roots struggle offer alternatives — or at least a radical complement — to voting. Reversing Roe v. Wade will not stop abortions; it will only make them more dangerous and less accessible. As anarcha-feminist Liz Highleyman argued in 1992, “the day when abortion is again made illegal may come sooner than we like to think. We must be ready to take our bodies and our lives into our own hands.”

In It’s Going Down, I explore the anarcha-feminist model for providing reproductive care and building dual power in “We’re Pro-Choice and We Riot!”: How Anarcha-Feminists Built Dual Power in Struggles for Reproductive Freedom

As the Supreme Court prepares to reverse Roe v. Wade under a Democratic president, house, and senate, it is clear that action at the ballot box is insufficient to protect abortion. Reproductive rights were not won by electoral means, and that is not how we will defend them.

Anarcha-feminists were on the front lines of the struggle for abortion throughout the 1980s and ‘90s. They were convinced that Roe v. Wade would not last forever and that they could not depend on the state and the legal system to protect reproductive freedom. Anarcha-feminists took a three-pronged approach to abortion struggle: defense of abortion clinics, construction of grassroots reproductive health infrastructure, and an anti-state approach to building feminist dual power.

Anarcha-feminists physically protected abortion clinics from the likes of Operation Rescue, which was formed in 1986 to act as anti-abortion shock troops.

Anarcha-feminists established autonomous infrastructure and self-help groups in which people learned to take care of their own bodies and induce abortions on their own terms. As one anarchist put it in a 1991 article, “medicine is something we must take into our own hands. Because how can you smash the state if you’re still walking funny from a visit to the gynecologist’s?”

Anarchists advocated expanding grassroots infrastructure and self-organization to gain the knowledge and skills necessary to perform their own reproductive care. They argued that this would produce true reproductive freedom and autonomy that was independent of the state and its laws.

Anarcha-feminists did not appeal to the state to maintain abortion rights. They believed that the state was inherently patriarchal and was ultimately the enemy of reproductive justice. Thus, the Love and Rage Revolutionary Anarchist Federation (1989-98) argued in its draft political statement that “our freedom will not come through the passage of yet more laws but through the building of communities strong enough to defend themselves against anti-choice and anti-queer terror, rape, battery, child abuse and police harassment.”

Establishing reproductive healthcare infrastructure is a key component of feminist dual power that challenges the hegemony of the state and capitalism. This kind of infrastructure prefigures—and concretely establishes—a world defined by mutual aid, solidarity, and autonomy.

The model for mobilizing to protect abortion rights beyond voting

I published a new article in the Washington Post’s Made By History section today, check it out here!

The model for mobilizing to protect abortion rights beyond voting: ‘We’re pro-choice and we riot!’ How anarchists reframed the fight for abortion

The argument:
The anarchist and feminist traditions of mass mobilization, autonomous health infrastructure and grass-roots struggle offer alternatives — or at least a radical complement — to voting. Reversing Roe v. Wade will not stop abortions; it will only make them more dangerous and less accessible. As anarcha-feminist Liz Highleyman argued in 1992, “the day when abortion is again made illegal may come sooner than we like to think. We must be ready to take our bodies and our lives into our own hands.”

Public Humanities and Collective Education at Ithaca’s Socialist Night School

I’m taking a seminar on Public Humanities to inform my own public history work, particularly my approach to oral history projects and public events. For the first session, one of our readings—Robyn Schroeder, “The Rise of the Public Humanists (2021)—traces the history of Public Humanities as a concept to its birth in the 1980s. Since then, Schroeder reflects, there have been two somewhat distinct models of public humanities: vertical and horizontal. After giving brief summaries of the differences, this post reflects on my own research as well as my political education work with DSA. I conclude that Ithaca DSA’s approach to our Socialist Night School is exemplary of a horizontal, dialogical approach to collective knowledge production.

In her article on the public humanities, Schroeder explains that the “vertical” model promotes a “one-way flow of knowledge from the university to the public (15).” This is informed by a laudable desire to break down the barrier between the academic and public realms by sharing knowledge. The model is problematic, however, because it assumes that only academics have access to real knowledge and that the public is simply an empty receptacle waiting to be filled.

A horizontal model, on the other hand, takes a more dialogical and collaborative approach to public scholarship. It, too, seeks to break down the barriers between academia and the public, but does so in a way that avoids reifying the position of the university as the ultimate source of knowledge. Practitioners of this model seek to engage with communities to design and implement projects together with the ultimate goal of both advancing scholarly knowledge and providing real benefit to the community.

Naturally, I would like for my own work to follow the second model. Yet for me the lines appear more blurred, as I straddle the line between academia and the “community” that I study—that is to say, the radical left. My dissertation aims to be the book on late 20th century anarchist history that I would like to read, and which I think will be useful for my “own” community. It is based in large part on extensive oral history interviews and I am in constant dialogue and collaboration with others on the left, both within and outside of the academy. I hope that this public humanities seminar will provide me with more tools to further develop my approach.

In any case, Schroeder’s article made me reflect as well on the public programming I help to run through Ithaca DSA’s political education working group. I think that this programming, which includes an internal Marxist reading group and a public-facing monthly Socialist Night School, follows the horizontal model of dialogic, collaborative education and knowledge production.

Although I personally designed the syllabus for our Marxist reading group, it is based on ongoing conversations in the group about what we want to read. Given my own background in the material and my experience teaching it in a college setting, I inevitably play somewhat of a “teacher” role in the group. But we structurally decenter my role by rotating co-facilitation of the meetings and by organizing discussion in rounds so that everyone has equal chance to speak. For the coming year, we are planning a series of mini-units on various topics which will each be designed and implemented by different members of the group.

Our Socialist Night School meets monthly to provide public education and discussion about radical politics. The education is self-consciously dialogical and democratically oriented. Each month, we collectively decide on a new topic and choose two or three short readings, usually including a video, that attendees are encouraged but not required to read. We then develop discussion questions to guide the conversation. The night school meetings themselves, which usually attract between twenty to forty participants, center collective discussion in small groups. Each session begins with a short introduction before we turn to an invited speaker to give a ten to fifteen minute informal talk. The remainder of the event is dedicated to discussion.

Discussions take place in breakout rooms of around four to six participants, each of which has a DSA member facilitating it. The discussions, which are structured in rounds so that everyone has a chance to contribute to each topic, often lead to vibrant personal and intellectual exchange. Indeed, they are crucial sites of collective knowledge production for the local Ithaca left, especially when they enable intergenerational exchange of experiences. After these breakout rooms are finished, we come back together to share out from the discussions and collectively reflect on what we have learned. We end by explicitly addressing how to apply lessons from the reading and discussion to our political work in Ithaca.

Rather than a vertical one-way flow of knowledge from the university to “the public,” the Socialist Night Schools exemplify the horizontal co-production and distribution of knowledge. This is a question of good teaching pedagogy just as much as it is one of Public Humanities as a discipline. Of course, the ultimate goal of the Socialist Night School is to collectively educate ourselves and to strategize about how to build a truly free and democratic world, beginning locally in our own communities. This is a project to which I remain fully committed.

Writing Movement History: Fall 2021 Posts

I was based at the Brooklyn Interference Archive for Fall 2021 conducting dissertation research and interviews with support from Cornell’s Reppy Institute for Peace and Conflict Studies. During this time, I wrote sixteen new blog posts, which I am collecting here:

Sept 12: ‘To Repulse The State From Our Uteri’: Anarcha-Feminist Abortion Struggle

Sept 14: ‘We’re Here, We’re Queer, and We Hate the Government!’: Queer Anarchism in Love and Rage

Sept 16: Neither East Nor West: Anarchism and the Soviet Dissolution

Sept 20: On Writing: Identity vs. Practice

Sept 21: Living Communism: Theory and Practice of Autonomy and Attack

Sept 26: Creating ‘New Porn’: Anarcha-Feminism vs. Onlyfans

Sept 29: Reading Amyl and the Sniffers’ ‘Capital’ Politically

Oct 2: Anarchist Oral History Project: Seeking Interviews

Oct 13: ‘Anarcho-Beef People’: Against All Domination at Anarchist Gatherings (1986-89)

Oct 17: Building the Movement: The Rebirth of Anarchism, 1986-89

Oct 19: A Roving Band of Anarcho-Punks: The Vermont Family’s Revitalization of American Anarchism

Oct 28: Analyzing Biden’s Spending Bill: A Debate Between Sectors of Capital

Nov 6: White Workers and Race Treason in Revolutionary Struggle

Nov 23: ‘Feminism Practices What Anarchism Preaches’: Anarcha-Feminism in the 20th Century (Panel Recording)

Dec 8: Learning from Ithaca’s Socialist Mayor: Electoralism and Movement Building

Dec 12: Red and Black Unite: The Paris Commune and Socialist Democracy

Abolitionist Communism: Theorizing Our Practice

One of my favorite recent albums is Bambu’s EP Sharpest Tool in the Shed. Released in October 2020, it is a product of coronavirus and the George Floyd Rebellion. It speaks directly to the moment in the summer of 2020 when mutual aid networks proliferated, insurrection grew across the country, and the political logic of abolitionist communism was developed in the streets.

In the interlude track “Signing Off,” Bambu is quoted at an activist panel as he lays out the basic points of unity developed in the recent struggle:

“It’s still one rifle per family, still working for the party.

It’s not socialism versus communism or communism versus anarchy or whatever.

It’s about us toppling the machine and worrying about that shit when we win.

Dismantle the state, fuck the law, abolish the police, educate the masses, organize the hood.”

What can we make of this? Bambu is a communist. He is steeped in Marxism-Leninism-Maoism, informed by his experience as a poor Filipino in California and referencing the Maoist movement in the Philippines. And yet, what is the political program that he lays out as the basic points of unity? “Dismantle the state, fuck the law, abolish the police, educate the masses, organize the hood.”

There is nothing here about seizing the state and wielding it to build socialism. It’s about self-organization to topple the power structures of the state and capitalism and build a new world from below. Here we see the fundamental challenge that abolitionism poses to Marxism-Leninism and all political orientations that seek to use the state as a tool for liberation.

Am I calling Bambu an anarchist? Regardless of his own self-identification, I’m not sure that would be a useful label. Here, our traditional linguistic/political categories fail us.

Bambu is an abolitionist communist, which necessarily entails an anti-state orientation. Abolitionism has fundamentally changed the political landscape of the left, and I think we’re still reckoning with what that means. Abolitionist communist practice has outstripped our theorization of it. As the George Floyd Rebellion recedes into the past, we need to sharpen our analysis and develop new theoretical tools for liberation.

A few places to begin:

William C. Anderson, The Nation on No Map: Black Anarchism and Abolition (2021)

Saidiya Hartman, Wayward Lives, Beautiful Experiments: Intimate Histories of Social Upheaval (2019)

Fred Moten and Stefano Harney, The Undercommons: Fugitive Planning & Black Study (2013)

The Invisible Committee, Now (2017)

Geo Maher, A World Without Police: How Strong Communities Make Cops Obsolete (2021)

Learning from Ithaca’s Socialist Mayor: Electoralism and Movement Building

In 1989, as the Berlin Wall fell and Francis Fukuyama proclaimed the “end of history,” the small college town of Ithaca, New York did something remarkable: it elected an openly socialist mayor. Benjamin (Ben) Nichols, a Red Diaper Baby and member of the Democratic Socialists of America, would go on to serve three terms as mayor, holding office from 1990-96.

Ithaca DSA recently organized a Socialist Night School to learn about this history and discuss lessons for today. We hosted the activist scholar (and wife of the late Ben Nichols) Judith Van Allen to give a talk and share her experience with Ithaca’s radical history. There are many lessons to learn from Ben Nichols’s campaigns and his experience in governing as a pragmatic socialist. Nichols’s successes encourage us to be bold and advance a transformative vision of municipal socialism; his failures teach us that local electoral work must serve social movements and help build grassroots power rather than misdirecting or co-opting our energy.

Although Nichols recognized the significant limitations of operating within the constraints of city government, he was able to achieve a great deal while in office. In the tradition of municipal “sewer socialism” that began in the early 20th century, Nichols attempted to put the city government at the service of improving Ithacans’ lives. He led the city to successfully demand a much larger “voluntary” monetary contribution from Cornell (which does not pay taxes), created “mutual housing” governed by residents, passed ordinances supporting domestic partnerships and freedom of reproductive choice, strengthened the community police board, built the Alex Haley Pool, and generally made the city government function more efficiently and democratically. His accomplishments can serve as inspiration for achieving concrete victories and passing progressive legislation in towns like Ithaca.

That said, errors in political strategy and lack of attention to movement-building left Nichols isolated and vulnerable to opposition. Various policies he passed alienated elements of his fragile progressive coalition and he was defeated by an “independent” candidate who took office in 1996. Surprisingly little has been written about this history. I plan to write more about this in the future, but I want to lay out what I see as the biggest lesson.

Ben Nichols was by all accounts a very charismatic and dedicated man who ran largely on the force of his personality. He was able to assemble a progressive coalition to back his campaign, but it was all aimed at the single purpose of electing him. The coalition identified a clear enemy—the major property developers—and mobilized around progressive issues, but they never developed a substantive political program or a strategy for building grassroots power outside of the mayor’s office.

The campaign for mayor focused almost entirely on GOTV (Get Out The Vote) efforts: identifying supporters and getting them to the polls. By Judith’s account, they never attempted to win people over to a socialist program to transform Ithaca. Although these GOTV efforts were successful in electing Nichols as an individual, they did not build a committed movement base that could support him and push him from the left. That meant that when he advanced legislation that alienated certain elements of his coalition, he had no mass base to turn to—or to hold him accountable. Ithaca’s DSA chapter put in a large amount of work to elect Nichols, but they did not seem to maintain an organic relationship with him once in office. Movement building was subordinated to progressive electoralism, which derailed and defanged the radical grassroots energy that could have produced more transformative results.

The main lesson for me is that local electoral work needs to be simply one element of a broader political strategy to build power from the bottom up and promote a municipal vision of socialist transformation. The position of mayor as well as city councilors should be accountable to the grassroots base. Individuals in these positions should run on a clear political platform and serve as representatives of radical organizations and social movements. They should work to restructure and democratize the city government—for instance, by helping to establish popular assemblies with real decision-making power. We can look to Murray Bookchin’s vision of libertarian municipalism for inspiration and models.

We have many lessons to learn from this experiment in municipal socialism, including the need to put local electoralism at the service of movement building. But perhaps the greatest takeaway is simply to be bold: we can and must articulate a visionary program of municipal socialism and run campaigns on this platform. If Ithaca could elect a socialist mayor within the right-wing context of 1989, then we can certainly do it today. Let’s get to work!

“Feminism Practices What Anarchism Preaches”: Anarcha-Feminism in the 20th Century (Panel Recording)

I recently organized an online panel at the Boston Anarchist Bookfair on November 14th (2021), which was recorded and uploaded to Youtube. My own talk, which begins around 41:20, is titled “‘We’re Pro-Choice and We Riot’: Anarcha-Feminism in Love and Rage (1989-98).” It is based on research and interviews that I have been conducting for my dissertation on North American anarchism in the late 20th century.

My talk explores the theorization and practice of revolutionary intersectional anarcha-feminism, with a major focus on abortion and reproductive freedom but also addressing queer and trans liberation, debates around pornography, CUNY student struggles, and the fight against patriarchy within Love and Rage itself. You can watch it here:

As I say in my presentation, if you were involved with any of what I discuss I would love to talk to you about it! Check out more about the anarchist oral history project I’m involved in here.

White Workers and Race Treason in Revolutionary Struggle

Noel Ignatiev used to say that the biggest impediment to revolution in the United States is that most white workers identify more with their race than with their class. Thus, they side with the white ruling class in order to obtain what W.E.B. Du Bois called the “wages of whiteness” that separate them from workers of color and prevent effective working class unity [ed: a friend reminded me that this phrase was actually from David Roediger riffing off of Du Bois]. How does this play out in practice and how can we break the cycle of white identification?

A friend of mine told me about his recent trip to the West Virginia Mine Wars Museum, which chronicles the miner’s strike and armed uprising that led to the 1921 Battle of Blair Mountain. As he explored the town, he saw a flyer advertising a support group for addicts. It was a standard pitch, something like: “Do you feel alone and unsupported? Are you dealing with addiction? Are you in debt and struggling to make ends meet? Come to our weekly support group for help to get back on your feet.” The kicker was that at the bottom, it was signed by the local chapter of the Ku Klux Klan.

Let’s dig into this scenario. Imagine a poor white opiate addict, a young person working a minimum wage job without a clear future. The relatively good jobs that had given their parents and grandparents a higher standard of living have disappeared. They feel that they have nowhere to turn for support, for community, for hope of a better life. What comes next?

1. They could see this flyer for the KKK-run addiction group. They go to a meeting where they find a supportive community that tells them that they are not alone and they are not broken. The group make them believe that there is the possibility to be strong and whole with hope for a better future. The problem is that immigrants, Black people, and globalist (Jewish) elites have stolen their job and their dignity. Rather than identify with a multiracial working class, their problems (and their solution) are articulated along racial lines. They are led to identity with their whiteness as the only path towards a better life. This is the base for fascism in the United States.

2. Imagine that this person encounters a different flyer. It has a similar message around addiction support but it is posted instead by a local DSA chapter or anarchist mutual aid network. This group provides support for them on an individual level but they also supply a different analysis of their problems and a very different solution. The blame is not placed on immigrants, Black people, or Jews, but rather on the capitalist system that exploits and oppresses the vast majority of people. The group helps to unionize the worker’s low-wage job, thereby showing the material benefits of struggle and solidarity with all workers (including, we might imagine, an immigrant worker who was previously the target of scorn and abuse by white workers). This process helps the person to identify with their class rather than their race. They see that multi-racial workers’ solidarity actually improves their material conditions, and they are drawn into the anti-racist left.

3. What do the Democrats offer to this person? For better or worse, liberals tell them that they can identify neither with their race nor their class. Dems perhaps offer a tepid job training program and admonish them to abandon the white privilege that they cling to as their last remaining hope. Is it any surprise that the person might reject this option? And that, in the absence of a strong leftwing alternative, they might be pulled in by the fascist, white supremacist path of the KKK? If the left isn’t there offering a model for white workers to identify with and fight for their class interests, then the fascists will certainly do it with race.

After Trump’s election in 2016, people wrote a whole series of postmortems evaluating the role that the white working class played. On the one hand, “economic anxiety” was blamed; on the other, white supremacy and racism. I think that this debate misses the point of how politics actually works. Most people are exploited under capitalism, including the white working class. Most people, again including the white working class, also experience assaults on their sense of dignity and worth. The question is not whether or not individual white people are fundamentally racist, but rather how their grievances are articulated into a coherent set of politics.

The same grievances can be framed in either race-based terms (Trump tells white workers that Mexican immigrants stole their jobs) or class-based terms (Bernie tells white workers that capitalists shipped their jobs overseas). In the first case, immigrants are the enemy that must be combatted, and thus struggle is articulated in racial terms. In the second case, capitalists are the enemy that must be combatted, and thus struggle is articulated in class terms. The point is not to convince white people in abstract moral terms that they should give up their white privilege, but rather to offer a political analysis and strategy for improving their lives through identification and struggle within the multi-racial working class.

This analysis is not based on morality but rather on strategy. None of this is a call for people of color to have more sympathy for white people or move to rural areas to organize them. I think white radicals have a specific role to play here. It’s not just about doing what is morally right, but rather preventing fascism from spreading further and offering a revolutionary alternative.

Note that I am not calling for “color-blindness.” Disidentification with whiteness requires an active process of treason and struggle against white supremacy, not a simple disavowal of the privilege of one’s skin color. The point is not for white people to simply check their privilege, but rather for us to develop and popularize modes of analysis and struggle that enable white people to identify common interests with people of color and fight together to overthrow this system and build a new world in its place.

A Roving Band of Anarcho-Punks: The Vermont Family’s Revitalization of American Anarchism

The Vermont Family was a roving band of anarcho-punks that helped build the American anarchist movement in the 1980s. They were a key element of the connective tissue that linked the dispersed anarchist milieu. The Family originally came together within the “Great Peace March for Global Nuclear Disarmament,” in which hundreds of people walked from Los Angeles to Washington, DC over the course of nine months in 1986. As many of the liberals dropped out or retreated to cars, a core group of anarchists coalesced to form a traveling “anarchy village” which grew from 15 to around 70 or 80 people. They ran the village through consensus and promoted anarchist politics within the march. After the march reached DC, the Family stayed together as a loose network of travelers, comrades, and friends.

The name of the Vermont Family came from a sort of collective joke. One punk in the anarchy village shared a story about Vermont: apparently it was written in the state constitution that in 1991, two hundred years after its founding, there would be a popular vote on whether the state would remain part of the country. Thus, a fantastical plan was hatched to convince anarchists to move to Vermont and push it to secede from the union. It goes without saying that this did not happen, and it turned out that Vermont had no such plan to put its status to a vote (the similarity of this plan to the later right-libertarian New Hampshire Free State Project is interesting to note). But the moniker stuck as both an inside joke and badge of identification, and many people in the crew adopted it as part of their names.

The Vermont Family formed on the road and stayed on the road throughout their existence until 1989. In their years of traveling, they played a crucial role that has gone unacknowledged in the histories of this era: they formed the interpersonal connections that were necessary to build a continental network of anarchists.

This past summer, I interviewed a person named Mike, who was one of the core members of the Family. He pointed out that in the age of the internet, it is hard for us to understand how an anarchist milieu could function in the 1980s. It required people to travel and make physical connections between far-flung collectives and projects. Some of the Family traveled in an old bus, some hitchhiked; like a punk version of Ken Kesey’s Merry Band of Pranksters, the Family spread anarchy everywhere they went. A few of them even made their way to West Germany, where they lived in squats and participated in the larger, more militant movement there. They took what they learned back to the US, where they helped to popularize models from the German Autonomen: squatted social centers, infoshops, and black bloc tactics.

When major actions or gatherings were planned in an American city, members of the Vermont crew would show up months in advance, put down temporary roots, and help organize a bigger and better event. They were central to the series of annual national convergences—Chicago 1986, Minneapolis 1987, Toronto 1988, and San Francisco 1989—that established continental networks of dedicated anarchist militants. The Crew stayed on the road until 1989, when a large number of them went to San Francisco to help organize the 1989 Anarchist Gathering. Finding fertile ground, many of them settled down for the long term in the Bay Area. They established several large collective houses that served as major hubs for both the local and national movement in the 1990s. Many of them remained active in Love and Rage, Anti-Racist Action, and other anarchist projects.

I have not yet been able to find any documentation of the Vermont Family beyond my oral history interviews, but its story is central to the broader history of the revitalization of anarchism in the 1980s.

“Anarcho-Beef People”: Against All Domination at Anarchist Gatherings (1986-89)

A series of annual gatherings from 1986 to 1989 revitalized the anarchist movement and built the infrastructure for national and continental coordination. I will share more writing about this in the future, but I wanted to share a quick anecdote about the debates over food and animal liberation at these convergences. They offer a window into the evolving values and ethical norms of the anarchist movement at the time. Anarchists developed a commitment to fighting all forms of oppression, hierarchy, and domination—including of other species—rather than solely focusing on capitalism and the state.

*****

The first national convergence was held in Chicago in 1986 to commemorate the centennial of the Haymarket Affair. Several hundred people from across the country attended a few days of workshops and a major demonstration. Tensions at the gathering reflected the political and ethical debates taking place within the anarchist movement around the question of animal liberation. Although there is a long history of vegetarian anarchism, this became a major concern in the late twentieth century.

The Chicago organizers served a non-vegetarian friendly (and certainly non-vegan) meal at the major Saturday banquet. This, some attendees felt, was no accidental oversight. Rather, it happened because (as one attendee later reflected) “they don’t like vegetarians.” Tensions rose, fueled by both ethical concerns and hunger. An impromptu demonstration ensued in which, a participant describes, “the street theater crowd from San Francisco began milling around the middle of the room on all fours, mooing and clucking and being herded by a vegan speechifier with an imaginary whip” who then proceeded to “slaughter” the “cows.”

Although the demonstration was largely received in good humor, an associated group handed out incendiary flyers attacking “anarcho-beef people.” The distribution of this flyer provoked strong negative reactions against “preachy vegans” and for a moment it appeared that a physical fight might actually break out. Tensions soon calmed, however—or at least, much of the anger was redirected towards an argument around anti-Semitic flyers distributed by another attendee. (The latter is a story for another time.)

*****

The next annual anarchist gathering, in Minneapolis in 1987, was a crucial step in the path towards a national anarchist network. It was organized with the intention of coordinating the de-centralized movement and laying the groundwork for a national organization. Unlike the previous convergence, which was organized mostly by older folks in a group called “Some Chicago Anarchists,” this one was put on by younger people who were more immersed in the growing anarchist milieu (including its ethical debates).

The Minneapolis crew framed the convergence around “Building the Movement.” While they hosted a wide range of workshops, including anarcho-punk DIY staples like how to dumpster food and brew your own beer, the focus was on facilitating strategic conversations and building the infrastructure for a coordinated national movement. Thus, throughout the gathering there was a “movement building track” of strategic discussions and meetings.

Part of this focus on building the movement entailed avoiding the unnecessary, distracting conflicts of the previous year’s gathering. For one, the organizers vowed to avoid the previous year’s arguments around food by simply serving all vegetarian meals. Of course, this was based in large part around an ethical commitment to animal liberation, but one key participant shared in a recent interview with me that it was also a conscious decision to avoid unnecessary drama and dissension.

The banquet was catered by a vegetarian workers’ cooperative called the New Riverside Cafe. This was specifically noted in a pre-convergence mass mailing to anarchists across the country. It seems that the organizers meant to be clear from the beginning that the meat-headed (sorry) mistakes of Chicago would not be repeated. There would be no protestors pretending to be mooing cows, no near fist fights over burgers.

In part because of its superior organization (including around the question of food), the Minneapolis gathering was a smashing success. It laid the groundwork for the next two annual meetings, in Toronto (‘88) and San Francisco (’89), which set the scene for the anarchist movement in the 1990s.

(Sources for the Chicago gathering come from the zine “Mob Action Against the State: Haymarket Remembered… An Anarchist Convention.”)