BOTH AND…

Can we stop fighting?

John Woodcock, Juliana Barnet

Dear Comrades, Colleagues, Neighbors, Relatives, and Friends:

Here is some thinking I’ve been doing in regard to the elections and our activist community.

I do want to emphasize that “both and” applies within our community. Daring to question, unpack, note subtleties, etc. in no way means “vote for Trump”!

I make this disclaimer because a friend recently maintained it meant that very thing. Kindly add this disclaimer to the ones I’ve included here and here in installments of my novel Rainwood House Sings (and by the way, look for Chapter 4, also coming out today!

This essay normally would have been published yesterday but I was busy celebrating Halloween :-)

I’m allergic to fighting. Hearing yelling knots my stomach. Witnessing people being mean to each other makes my chest go tight. I especially hate it when people I feel close to lash at each other in meanness or anger.

This likely harks back to being scared as a child when my dad got mad, or feeling bewildered and helpless when my brother and sister fought with each other. Those times are long over, but the feeling persists.

So, yes, writing about dissension within my community has a facet of self-interest—it upsets me that people I love speak unkindly of, and sometimes to, each other. I like to think that what I write is calmly reasoned—and true and real—but I can’t deny that the child with her hands over her ears wanting it to stop is perched on my shoulder.

That admission out of the way, I nonetheless feel it’s urgent to delve into new ways to approach internal dissension and division.

Our interconnection

Our interconnectedness as a community is the most important thing we have. “We” being the left, the progressive movement, the people who actively participate in collective efforts to achieve justice, peace, and planetary survival, and, to quote Linda Burnham,¹ a world without want and filled with love. “We” being the extensive, wildly diverse worldwide grab-bag of folks² who choose to challenge injustice in organized, collective, public ways, together with others suffering similar injustices and/or who stand in solidarity with them—a group I loosely term activists.

People within our activist culture deeply believe in our collective power. Regardless of which powers in the universe populate our worldviews, underpinning our culture are some fundamental beliefs: that all lives are of equal value, that an injury to one is an injury to all, and that we must work together to change how things are done on this planet if we want to avert the several kinds of catastrophe that capitalism is driving us toward.

We’re a culture because we share a basic outlook and values, a common vocabulary and symbology, and similar ways of relating to one another. These values rest on the core belief that we can and that we must change the world through mobilizing our collective power.

We care deeply that these convictions are upheld in real life and are willing to step into the public sphere, speak up, and take personal risks to ensure that his happens. Conviction of our collective power not only undergirds us intellectually; we experience it in the flesh as we march, sing, talk, and stand our ground together.

Our collective power is our greatest strength--when we use it. But because those who uphold the status quo fear nothing so much as that collective power fully activated, it is where their system of domination attacks us most viciously.

When our Thinking Diverges

Our activist culture encourages us to ponder reality deeply and analyze it carefully, relying on ideas advanced by admired thinkers and on our own experience. The fine balance between theory and practice, wisdom absorbed from leaders and peers, past and present, is highly developed, perhaps even unique, to activist culture. We rarely give ourselves credit collectively for how much we think and learn together, perhaps because we, like everyone else, have long been steeped in stereotypes about Communism, thought control, group-think, and similar uninformed scorn both for the content of our thinking and its central place in our culture.

It should be very clearly noted that thinking and discussion of theory among us is not restricted to those formally educated.

Among thinking folks, disagreements regarding theory, ideology, strategy, or tactics arise all the time. The danger arises when debates become divisions. When differences of approach, interpretation, strategy or tactics filter through our passionate caring, commitment, and strength of conviction—and through rivalries, egos, jealousies, and other human emotions we are subject to, like everyone else in the belly of the beast; not to mention infiltration and provocation, which seek out and exploit such differences. All the above within the cauldron of constant pressure, marginalization, and other forms of oppression and repression activists are all subject to in differing degrees can readily bubble up into division, separation, and outright confrontation.

Disconnection

The war on Palestinians is an example of such a rift within the progressive community, as are these 2024 presidential elections (and most other national US elections). I am talking not about those with liberal, mainstream positions aligned ideologically with national Democratic party, much less of the Right; rather, I refer to the cohort of people I describe above as activists, who share the goal of a new, just society, but must deal with the present reality, where elections and catastrophes like genocide and war-making loom large.

I have written about the US/Israel-Palestine conflict here but have said little on the US elections. Two broad positions exist within the US activist community I refer to above, each with internal variations and degrees of distance from the other side. Most of my friends and comrades, wonderful people completely committed to justice in the world and in this country, have sorted themselves into two opposing groups around the 2024 US presidential campaign.

Here is some of what I hear folks say in each of these two groups:

Harris-Walz Voters

Some portion of Left and Progressive voters enthusiastically believe Harris will be a good choice, as a woman clearly in favor of choice and access to healthcare, and good pronouncements in other important policy areas. That said, many others see Harris as clearly being aligned with the Democratic party’s basic mission to uphold the status quo, and as someone who unabashedly rejects numerous positions favored by the Left and even much of the US population (e.g. Israel-Palestine policy and others). Nevertheless, they choose to override their reservations and vote for her ticket because:

• It is crucial to unite against fascism, which is a growing threat here in this country and around the world.

• A Trump administration would substantially increase hardships for women, LGBTQ+ people, immigrants, and in general for poor and marginalized people, not to mention to ourselves as people on the Left.

• US foreign policy would become more isolationist, withdrawing from climate and other agreements, further endangering the planet. At the same time, war-making would continue in the Middle East and elsewhere.

• Trump has overtly declared his intention to ignore electoral processes to secure and remain in office, and to flout any law that inconveniences him.

3^rd Party Voters

Folks who advocate for the Green Party or other minority party tickets, or who plan to use their vote in some way to register a protest, maintain that:

• On many issues that matter—notably the genocide in Gaza that is persisting, escalating and spreading to neighboring countries; as well as fracking and other fossil fuel extraction; militarism at home and abroad; harsh treatment of immigrants, and support for the prison-police-industrial complex, among others—the Biden Harris Administration’s and Harris’s campaign assertions and behavior cannot be supported, despite occasional better language, and small, late, and timid actions.

• Every election is presented to us as the most important, life-or-death contest ever, and we’re pressured to believe it’s vital to our survival to vote for the lesser evil. But genocide and other terrible things perpetrated by the Democrats cannot be considered a lesser evil.

• We will never develop a viable alternative that represents our true interests if we are continually scared into supporting a party that is overtly the tool of the capitalist class.

• The US two-party electoral system itself is set up to perpetuate the dominant system and pull people into a short-term focus. Participating in it dilutes our efforts to independently organize according to working class interests. A gradual move toward independence from the two-party system is too slow when we are beset by so many existential emergencies.

Elections and Emotions

Analysis and reasoning are always accompanied, and often propelled, by emotion (e.g., my “confession” above.) The dominant emotions among Left and progressive Harris-Walz voters are dread and terror of the rise of fascism/authoritarianism/white supremacy associated with a Trump victory. They also express exasperation at their comrades who reject voting for Harris for failing to recognize that the conditions for struggle and movement building will be more difficult under a Trump presidency, and that by not supporting Harris they are boosting the chances he will win.

The dominant emotions I and others have noted in proponents of the contrasting viewpoint are desperation, impatience, and being sick and tired of participating in a broken system.

Both sides express belittlement, scorn and anger toward the other side. Interestingly, among the accusations both camps toss at one another is that of going with emotion rather than strategy.

I agree with all of the above.

Does this make me wishy-washy, a proponent of “both-sidism” or a waffler who says, “Everything is relative”?

Absolutely not! In fact, I am generally taxed with being too adamant. I’m not one to seek equivalencies or agreements between the causes of ruling elites and the people. It is the fights within and among the forces of the people where I have trouble aligning myself and seeing “right” and “wrong” sides.

I tend to look at things slantwise, and can never can seem to stay on one side of a conflict. I see layers, exceptions, specificities, nuances. I see clarifying and troubling details, and numerous “on the other hands,” “yes, ands,” and “yes, buts.”

I don’t necessarily agree with every argument on each side—and each of these large camps has many internal variations. The key thing for me is that I support the people on both sides as intelligent, caring humans who truly want to move us forward in our movement for a better society. Most³ have done their very best to take account of their own experience and incorporate as much knowledge as they can acquire in order to make what for them seems the best decision.

Both And…

I am a both-and kind of person. I don’t like conflict or arguments, especially with name-calling and blame-throwing. I prefer consensus, engaging in thoughtful discussion to develop, together, out of apparently opposing sides of an argument, a deeper truth. This is a complex process where all positions undergo transformation and growth, eventually becoming—it is to be hoped!—something better than any of the earlier ones.

Voting is a concrete act with unambiguous choices—no room at all for “yes, and,” or “yes, but.” The question is the relative importance we assign this act and the drama surrounding it, within the whole context of building our movement for systemic change.

Stop and Listen

It is crucial to deeply listen to both sides, discovering what is good and reasonable in both. And to keep and deepen connections with both and encourage people, at their angriest and most aggravated, to notice and appreciate those with opposing views. And to remember our common material reality as activists with shared basic values who all belong to the wildly diverse global grab-bag of social justice activists and to the broad working class.

Am I evading the election? Sort of. I think that the larger questions raised and debated need to have their own lives outside of this electoral system we know is stacked against us. Regardless of who we vote for, regardless of who wins, we all lose in one way or another unless we move forward out of the trap we are in.

But yes, I will vote, in accordance with my best assessment of the circumstances I’m in here in this “blue” state where presidential campaigning barely exists because our top-of-the ticket vote is not really in play. (My calculation might well be different in a “swing” state.) The other races can be crucial, as far as that goes, and while here again the corrupt, money-driven system severely limits our choices, I will certainly vote in as many races as I have any knowledge about—including the Right to Reproductive Freedom Amendment.

Mutatis Mutandis

One of my favorite kinds of analysis is mutatis mutandis, that is, cautiously inserting a different scenario into a current question, making allowances for aspects that are different or irrelevant. I find it helps put things in perspective.

If you will allow it, let’s do a mutatis mutandis comparison between our political differences within the Left and the clash of rival religions.

Many people are truly deeply utterly convinced that theirs is the true religion. They may show it in different ways, but what is common is the conviction that theirs is the best and, for many, the only way to understand the world and organize their lives.

I do not mean to imply that our schools of thought are like religions in content, or that schools of thought in our culture replace religion. Rather, I am saying that our schools of thought are crucial to us, and we set great store by our analyses and our strategies for acting in the world. It is in the centrality we give to these belief systems that I see the similarity.

As with religion, the passion with which we hold these views can lead to our seeing those who hold differing views within our culture as enemies, and we forget both that we have much in common and that products of our minds which seem so massively important and true at one time often transform as time goes on and experience unfurls.

Let’s return to the question of reconciling ourselves despite our conflicting approaches to a crucial societal moment like the 2024 presidential election.

How can we come together despite holding (what feels like and may well be) deeply opposing views?

Reminding ourselves of what we share

We tend to focus on our differences, another very human trait, even though these differences may be much less than what we have in common. To put things in perspective it seems a good idea to remember what those commonalities are.

We share convictions, including:

• From each according to their abilities, to each according to their needs, or some variation of this involving fairness, justice, compassion, care, and good sense.

• Inclusiveness of all people, that no one is better than anyone else, and that an injury to one is an injury to all, ie., we need to fight all oppression and oppressive structures.

• We are all connected to one another and to Earth, and our responsibility to protect our home and all its inhabitants is paramount.

• People have the power—and the need, and responsibility to use it—to resist division, domination, supremacy, inequality, and exploitation imposed by coercion or manipulation, and to use our power to create new social structures and relations based on the points above and resist all forces that try to push us back into the old ways.

We share deep appreciation for each other, including for:

• Our commitment to our cause and each other.

• Our ability to carry on despite immense difficulties.

• Our capacity for caring for all people, and in particular, each other.

• Our willingness to go way above and beyond, pouring our energy into our work, with little, often no pay.

• Our ability to derive joy and fun in our work even when uncomfortable and risky, and in each other, even in the midst of hard times.

• Our dedication to watching out for each other’s safety and well-being.

• And more!

As part of the activist community…

• We share a common culture. Above I stated that we share—among other things—a basic outlook and values, a common vocabulary and symbology, and similar ways of relating to one another.

  We understand each other’s language even when we are arguing. Even when accusing one another we are on the same communication channel, which others find baffling. We recognize one another by turns of phrase, modes of dress—words on t-shirts, buttons, bumper stickers, and so on—and symbols such as keffiyehs or yellow vests. We know, even as we clash on consequential matters, that we share many basic approaches and priorities regarding society, the world, and what we’re striving for. We may fight about many specifics, and interpretations, but we agree on basic ways of treating one another that are not necessarily a given in humanity as a whole; namely, we strive in practice to treat one another according to how we want everyone to be treated in the society we are trying to achieve.

  We don’t necessarily achieve this in reality, but we can be reasonably sure that other individuals and groups within our culture also conduct themselves according to these shared precepts.

• We share passion and energy, which keep us going under often difficult and sometimes impossible circumstances.

• We share the exuberance and inspiration of being together with each other in a common struggle, working together for our common purpose. This feeling of joy is hard to describe but is palpable to those who experience it.

In sum, we derive many benefits from our connection to our activist community: the joy of belonging to and being actively involved in a cause we believe in; the inspiration of feeling connected, needed, understood; building genuine relationships with people we might otherwise never have the chance to know, because society at virtually all levels tends to segregate us with folks most like us. Plus we get to learn and build skills, including thinking with others and taking leadership, among many others.

Those are shared benefits. We also face common challenges, including:

• Being stuck with open eyes in system where a minuscule minority controls the wealth and power and make the decisions regarding them, regardless of how, or if, elections happen.

• Unless we belong to the tiny power elite, we are all on the same material side, that is, in the same position within the social structure, the side of the working class--regardless of what ideas are in our heads.

• The terror of the ruling elite that our immense class will organize effectively together and kick them out of power. As we have seen repeatedly, they will do absolutely anything, bar nothing, to keep that one thing from happening.

• The supremacist class is very aware—generally much more than we are—that the key thing they must do to preclude our rising up is to divide us, and this they have been doing extremely well for generations—and getting smarter about it all the time.

Yikes, serious stuff! We need to be at least as serious about nurturing our connections as the beast in whose belly we’re stuck (for now) is in its bent to exterminate them.

We have each other even when we are at odds. We are who we’ve been waiting for, and we’re all we got.

What is to be Done?

How to square this truth with the deep disaffection many of us feel—now and over the years in differing forms but with similar passion—regarding others within our broad Left/Progressive community?

• We can notice the multitude of amazing things so many of us are doing around the globe, on so many fronts—all the myriad publications, projects, movements, groups, experiments, demonstrations, protests, campaigns, calls, letters, alternative communities, experiments, revolutions, liberations, and so much more.

• We can appreciate each other. Not just the general appreciations outlined above, but the specifics. Appreciation has power.

  One of the few “real jobs” I’ve had was as special programs director at the Washington International School. A sharp controversy arose among some of the teachers I worked with, and I called a meeting to address it. I asked the proponents of the positions at loggerheads to appreciate three things about the others before we addressed the problem. They scoffed, they fumed, but I held firm. Reluctantly, each one took a turn naming positive qualities of their adversaries. After the meeting, the teachers expressed amazement that the appreciations had shifted the energy in the room and enabled us to make important progress.

• We can pay attention to the fact that our true enemies lump us all together. They don’t bother distinguishing our tactical, strategic, ideological or linguistic differences⁴—unless, that is, they plan to exploit them to divide us. (And they often get the details wrong, since they don’t understand the nuances).

• We can refuse to conflate the viewpoints with the proponents themselves, who are, after all, people with whom we share, by and large, the qualities listed above, and who also are, by and large, sincere, good-willed, fallible, changeable, influenceable, and teachable—just like we all are. Yes, our differences are real, serious, and not to be minimized or scorned.

  But can we not figure out how to be clear and loyal to our fundamental connection among each other, regardless of how, even as we hash out our differences—which we know are not of the same nature as those we have with our actual enemies?

• We can cultivate relationships. The more we build genuine relationships that fully connect us to folks in our broad activist community as whole people rather than ideological positions, the better able we become to put our conflicting passionate certainties into perspective and value the people beyond the specific ideas we’re each holding onto.

• We can acknowledge complexities, nuances, specifics. This is not the same as abandoning the important generalities, but dialectical thinking requires us to hold numerous layers at once, balancing, weighing, keeping perspective.

• We can refraining from labeling, name-calling, and pigeonholing one another.

• We can seek to keep calm. Emotions run high during a contentious electoral season, in the midst of genocide and imperialist war, on the brink of existential disaster—let alone when we’re embroiled in all at once! It is at such moments when we most need to work on not getting carried away by panic or passion.

  Yes, I too feel that mine is the correct, sensible, proper interpretation of the political scene and of the philosophical luminaries I admire. However, to move forward I realize I must acknowledge that others might conceivably also be right, too, or that some combination of our thinking could well be better than that of any of us on our own.

• We can show each other compassion and love. Do you have maddening family members? Friends? Colleagues? We all do. The difference is that, especially in our atomized society, relationships among colleagues and comrades and fellow members of activist organizations can dissolve so easily.

  Our underlying connection is absolutely real and absolutely necessary, but it must be cultivated deliberately. We need to purposely cultivate love and compassion as a firm anchor against the anger, frustration, exasperation, and all the other ways we are pulled apart from our comrades.

Profound change is truly gonna take us all. We are an “all” that is comprised of humans who are both polemical, fractious, passionate proponents of our positions and deeply connected for our survival. This reality is inescapable, and we must work with it.

1. See Linda Burnham, Navigating the Contradictions of our Movement

2. As I often do, I must stress that I am a US person writing in a US context. I feel that at the general level this essay pertains to the entirety of our worldwide community, but I have no pretension to speak for, to, or about us as a whole from a stance of authority. Too much of that already!

3. That is, excluding those who participate, for pay or out of conviction, with the purpose of undermining Left and Progressive forces.

4. Witness, for example, “Kammunism.”