Thinking through solidarity organizing, with an eye to how we can better live the change, as well as how we often slip in to colonial patterns when working together across distance and difference.
I love this animated lecture series, but some of the arguments by Roman Krznaric in this talk on empathy bug me. Yes, I do think that some sort of 'feeling-with' plays an important role in building connections across distance and difference and motivating people to work for social change. But I don't think the answer is to 'feel as', and much less to try to 'be the other'. Pretending to be homeless seems disrespectful to me, and I am disturbed that here George Orwell is yet again simplistically held up for doing this. There is certainly power in living with the poor, living simply, and in other ways 'being with' those who are different than you, in ways that help you understand their reality, feel-with, and motivate you to walk with and struggle with them. But pretending to be someone you are not is not only disrespectful of those you would walk with, it diminishes the power of your solidarity.
In the fantastic
article “Sympathy and Solidarity: On a Tightrope with
Scheler” (1997) Sandra Bartky draws of Max Scheler’s work on sympathy (from
1913).He argues that there are
four forms of fellow-feeling, or feeling-with.We tend to call these empathy today, though she argues they
are sympathy.Those four forms are:
1)true fellow-feeling: shared
feeling due to the same cause like the death of a child (though I would argue
that even the same cause can lead to different feelings)
2)emotional infection: shared
emotion through contagion, like mass hysteria
3)emotional identification:
‘psychic contagion’ where you are lost in the other and imagine you can see and
feel with them
4)“genuine fellow-feeling”: where
you react to the other’s feeling, but are aware of the distance between hers
and yours.She feels, and you feel
with her.
As you might imagine, Bartky and Scheler argue that it is the
fourth that is most useful.I
would call this walking with her, rather than in her shoes.Bartky argues that this is not a
comparison of my feelings to hers, or a projection of my experience onto hers,
and not a matter of imagining what if this happened to me. None of these allow
us to really appreciate her life, to reach out, to go beyond our own
experience.Bartky does see
imagination as important, but without ourselves as the star of the show.You don’t have to imagine as it would
happen to you, you can imagine it as happening to her.You don’t have to have felt it, or
something like it, before yourself to imagine it (though I think it is of
course easier to imagine those emotions, a matter she does not address).She does argue that it is easier to
imagine when we get more details, not simply about the scene, but also the
feelings of the teller.I
certainly agree.
Bartky, S. L. “Sympathy and Solidarity: On a Tightrope with Scheler.” In Feminists Rethink the Self, edited by Diana Tietjens Meyers, 177–96. Westview Press, 1997.
I'm still settling in to Bogotá, so forgive me for reposting again. Over on everyday feminism, Jamie Utt, wrote an article on how to do this. His key points are excerpted below:
1. Start By Appealing To the Ways In Which They Don’t Have Privilege
One of the fastest ways to disarm a person’s defensiveness about
their own privilege is to take some time to listen to the ways in which
they legitimately do not have privilege and validate those frustrations.
I once attended a workshop with Peggy McIntosh, the original author of “Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack.”
The goal of the workshop was to give people tools for leading
workshops of their own on privilege and oppression that get past the
defensiveness.
One of her suggestions was to have people divide a paper in half.
Have every person start on the left side of the paper and write down all
of the ways in which they do not have
identity privilege. They can include everything from being left handed
and having to drag your hand through the ink to being a woman and having
to deal with the gender wage gap.
Then folks would write on the opposite side all of the ways in which
their identity does afford them privilege that they did not earn.
From there, folks pair up and do a listening exercise where they
listen intently to the other person talk about both sides of their list.
Doing so allows people to air their frustrations at being denied
privilege while also acknowledging that they do, indeed, have privilege.
From that place, it is a lot easier to help folks understand the
power of privilege in creating a system of oppression and how
eliminating that system is liberatory and transformative for everyone.
Now, to do this, you don’t need to turn it into a workshop. Just try
asking the other person to talk about the ways in which they don’t have
identity privilege and validate those hurts and frustrations.
Simply listening can go a long way! Plus, it’s a starting point for
helping them build empathy for those who do not have their same
privileges.
2. Stress That Privilege Is Relative
Each person experiences their privilege and lack thereof within the
context of their own community and the people they interact with at the
time.
Does that mean that all privileges are equal? No. I’m right handed
and in turn, don’t have to drag my palm through the ink when I write.
That’s a privilege I have by the nature of my birth.
That is not to say, though, that my right-handed privilege bears the
same weight or social responsibility as the privilege that my skin
color, gender, wealth, or sexual orientation afford me.
The point is that our identities are complex and intersectional.
Some folks get defensive about discussing privilege because they fear
such a conversation will not address the real and powerful ways in
which they do not have privilege. So they deflect by only talking about those things.
Just because we benefit from one form of privilege doesn’t mean that we benefit from all forms of privilege.
When we realize that, we can work together with people who share our privileges and those who don’t to build something better!
3. A System of Privilege and Oppression Hurts Us All
What we most need to stress in conversations about privilege is that
this system doesn’t just hurt the people who cannot boast one form of
identity privilege or another.
It hurts everyone. Until we understand that, we’re not
getting anywhere because the only people of privilege who will ever act
to end the system are the ones acting strictly from paternalistic guilt.
Take white privilege, for instance. White privilege is, essentially,
a social construction whereby wealthy Europeans wanted to make sure
that they could consolidate their wealth by pitting poor people from
Europe against poor Africans and Indigenous people.
White folks were made to feel better about themselves and were given
paltry privileges over people of color in order to divide the white
proletariat.
All that meant, though, is that the white folks got to be the lords
over people of color while the wealthy whites still had their boots on
the necks of poor whites!
These privileges don’t help us as white people nearly as much as they hurt us!
Similarly, male privilege may benefit men tremendously in certain
ways. But in others, it restricts us into a tiny box of masculinity. I
don’t know about you, but I am sick of trying to fit into my gendered
box, the “Act Like a Man” box.
I want my gender expression to be free and independent of those aspects of masculinity that hurt men and
women – violence is acceptable for solving problems, boys don’t cry,
men are the lords of their household, men must know everything even when
they don’t, etc.
The privileges are marginal when we look at the system of justice that can be built on the other side of this struggle!
4. Privilege Does Not Have To Mean Guilt!
....
5. Offer Concrete Ways That They Can Undermine the System of Privilege and Oppression In Their Own Life
....
6. Make It a Conversation of Actions, Not Character
Canada’s state and corporate wealth is largely based on
subsidies gained from the theft of Indigenous lands and resources.
Conquest in Canada was designed to ensure forced displacement of
Indigenous peoples from their territories, the destruction of autonomy
and self-determination in Indigenous self-governance and the
assimilation of Indigenous peoples’ cultures and traditions. Given the
devastating cultural, spiritual, economic, linguistic and political
impacts of colonialism on Indigenous people in Canada, any serious
attempt by non-natives at allying with Indigenous struggles must entail
solidarity in the fight against colonization.
Non-natives must be able to position ourselves as active and
integral participants in a decolonization movement for political
liberation, social transformation, renewed cultural kinships and the
development of an economic system that serves rather than threatens our
collective life on this planet. Decolonization is as much a process as a
goal. It requires a profound recentring on Indigenous worldviews. Syed
Hussan, a Toronto-based activist, states: “Decolonization is a dramatic
reimagining of relationships with land, people and the state. Much of
this requires study. It requires conversation. It is a practice; it is
an unlearning.”
Indigenous solidarity on its own terms
A growing number of social movements are recognizing that Indigenous
self-determination must become the foundation for all our broader
social justice mobilizing. Indigenous peoples in Canada are the most
impacted by the pillage of lands, experience disproportionate poverty
and homelessness, are overrepresented in statistics of missing and
murdered women and are the primary targets of repressive policing and
prosecutions in the criminal injustice system. Rather than being treated
as a single issue within a laundry list of demands, Indigenous
self-determination is increasingly understood as intertwined with
struggles against racism, poverty, police violence, war and occupation,
violence against women and environmental justice.
Incorporating Indigenous self-determination into these movements
can, however, subordinate and compartmentalize Indigenous struggle
within the machinery of existing Leftist narratives. Anarchists point to
the antiauthoritarian tendencies within Indigenous communities,
environmentalists highlight the connection to land that Indigenous
communities have, anti-racists subsume Indigenous people into the
broader discourse about systemic oppression in Canada, and women’s
organizations point to the relentless violence inflicted on Indigenous
women in discussions about patriarchy.
We have to be cautious not to replicate the Canadian state’s
assimilationist model of liberal pluralism, forcing Indigenous
identities to fit within our existing groups and narratives. The
inherent right to traditional lands and to self-determination is
expressed collectively and should not be subsumed within the discourse
of individual or human rights. Furthermore, it is imperative to
understand that being Indigenous is not just an identity but a way of
life, which is intricately connected to Indigenous peoples’ relationship
to the land and all its inhabitants. Indigenous struggle cannot simply
be accommodated within other struggles; it demands solidarity on its own
terms.
The practice of solidarity
One of the basic principles of Indigenous solidarity organizing is
the notion of taking leadership. According to this principle,
non-natives must be accountable and responsive to the experiences,
voices, needs and political perspectives of Indigenous people
themselves. From an anti-oppression perspective, meaningful support for
Indigenous struggles cannot be directed by non-natives. Taking
leadership means being humble and honouring front-line voices of
resistance as well as offering tangible solidarity as needed and
requested. Specifically, this translates to taking initiative for
self-education about the specific histories of the lands we reside upon,
organizing support with the clear consent and guidance of an Indigenous
community or group, building long-term relationships of accountability
and never assuming or taking for granted the personal and political
trust that non-natives may earn from Indigenous peoples over time.
In offering support to a specific community in the defence of their
land, non-natives should organize with a mandate from the community and
an understanding of the parameters of the support being sought. Once
these guidelines are established, non-natives should be proactive in
offering logistical, fundraising and campaign support. Clear lines of
communication must always be maintained, and a commitment should be made
for long-term support. This means not just being present for blockades
or in moments of crisis, but developing an ongoing commitment to the
well-being of Indigenous peoples and communities.
Organizing in accordance with these principles is not always
straightforward. Respecting Indigenous leadership is not the same as
doing nothing while waiting around to be told what to do. “I am waiting
to be told exactly what to do” should not be an excuse for inaction, and
seeking guidance must be weighed against the possibility of further
burdening Indigenous people with questions. A willingness to decentre
oneself and to learn and act from a place of responsibility rather than
guilt are helpful in determining the line between being too
interventionist and being paralyzed.
Cultivating an ethic of responsibility within the Indigenous
solidarity movement begins with non-natives understanding ourselves as
beneficiaries of the illegal settlement of Indigenous peoples’ land and
unjust appropriation of Indigenous peoples’ resources and jurisdiction.
When faced with this truth, it is common for activists to get stuck in
their feelings of guilt, which I would argue is a state of
self-absorption that actually upholds privilege. While guilt is often a
sign of a much-needed shift in consciousness, in itself it does nothing
to motivate the responsibility necessary to actively dismantle
entrenched systems of oppression. In a movement-building round table,
long-time Montreal activist Jaggi Singh said: “The only way to escape
complicity with settlement is active opposition to it. That only happens
in the context of on-the-ground, day-to-day organizing, and creating
and cultivating the spaces where we can begin dialogues and discussions
as natives and non-natives.”
Sustained alliance building
Sustaining a multiplicity of meaningful and diverse relationships
with Indigenous peoples is critical in building a non-native movement
for Indigenous self-determination. “Solidarity is not the same as
support,” says feminist writer bell hooks. “To experience solidarity, we
must have a community of interests, shared beliefs and goals around
which to unite, to build Sisterhood. Support can be occasional. It can
be given and just as easily withdrawn. Solidarity requires sustained,
ongoing commitment.”
Who exactly one takes direction from while building networks of
ongoing solidarity can be complicated. As in any community, a diversity
of political opinions often exists within Indigenous communities. How do
we determine whose leadership to follow and which alliances to build? I
take leadership from and offer tangible support to grassroots
Indigenous peoples who are exercising traditional governance and customs
in the face of state control and bureaucratization, who are seeking
redress and reparations for acts of genocide and assimilation, such as
residential schools, who are opposing corporate development on their
lands. I support those who are pushing back against the oppressions of
hetero-patriarchy imposed by settler society, who are struggling against
poverty and systemic marginalization in urban areas, who are
criticizing unjust land claims and treaty processes and who are
affirming their own languages, customs, traditions, creative expression
and spiritual practices.
Alliances with Indigenous communities should be based on shared
values, principles and analysis. For example, during the anti-Olympics
campaign in 2010, activists chose not to align with the Four Host First
Nations, a pro-corporate body created in conjunction with the Vancouver
Olympics organizing committee. Instead, we took leadership from and
strengthened alliances with land defenders in the Secwepemc and
St’át’imc nations and Indigenous people being directly impacted by
homelessness and poverty in the Downtown Eastside. In general, however,
differences surrounding strategy within a community should be for
community members to discuss and resolve. We should be cautious of a
persistent dynamic where solidarity activists start to fixate on the
internal politics of an oppressed community. Allies should avoid trying
to intrude and interfere in struggles within and between communities,
which perpetuates the civilizing ideology of the white man’s burden and
violates the basic principles of self-determination.
Building intentional alliances should also avoid devolution into
tokenization. Non-natives often choose which Indigenous voices to
privilege by defaulting to Indigenous activists they determine to be
better known, easier-to-contact or “less hostile.” This selectivity
distorts the diversity present in Indigenous communities and can
exacerbate tensions and colonially imposed divisions between Indigenous
peoples. In opposing the colonialism of the state and settler society,
non-natives must recognize our own role in perpetuating colonialism
within our solidarity efforts. We can actively counter this by
theorizing about and discussing the nuanced issues of solidarity,
leadership, strategy and analysis – not in abstraction, but within our
real and informed and sustained relationships with Indigenous peoples.
Decolonizing relationships
While centring and honouring Indigenous voices and leadership, the
obligation for decolonization rests on all of us. In “Building a
‘Canadian’ Decolonization Movement: Fighting the Occupation at ‘Home,’”
Nora Burke says: “A decolonisation movement cannot be comprised solely
of solidarity and support for Indigenous peoples’ sovereignty and
self-determination. If we are in support of self-determination, we too
need to be self-determining. It is time to cut the state out of this
relationship, and to replace it with a new relationship, one which is
mutually negotiated, and premised on a core respect for autonomy and
freedom.”
Being responsible for decolonization can require us to locate
ourselves within the context of colonization in complicated ways, often
as simultaneously oppressed and complicit. This is true, for example,
for racialized migrants in Canada. Within the anticolonial migrant
justice movement of No One Is Illegal, we go beyond demanding
citizenship rights for racialized migrants as that would lend false
legitimacy to a settler state. We challenge the official state discourse
of multiculturalism that undermines the autonomy of Indigenous
communities by granting and mediating rights through the imposed
structures of the state and that seeks to assimilate diversities into a
singular Canadian identity. Andrea Smith, Indigenous feminist
intellectual, says: “All non-Native peoples are promised the ability to
join in the colonial project of settling indigenous lands. In all of
these cases, we would check our aspirations against the aspirations of
other communities to ensure that our model of liberation does not become
the model of oppression for others.” In B.C., immigrants and refugees
have participated in several delegations to Indigenous blockades, while
Indigenous communities have offered protection and refuge for migrants
facing deportation.
Decolonization is the process whereby we create the conditions in
which we want to live and the social relations we wish to have. We have
to commit ourselves to supplanting the colonial logic of the state
itself. Almost a hundred years ago, German anarchist Gustav Landauer
wrote: “The State is a condition, a certain relationship between human
beings, a mode of behaviour; we destroy it by contracting other
relationships.” Decolonization requires us to exercise our sovereignties
differently and to reconfigure our communities based on shared
experiences, ideals and visions. Almost all Indigenous formulations of
sovereignty – such as the Two Row Wampum agreement of peace, friendship
and respect between the Haudenosaunee nations and settlers – are
premised on revolutionary notions of respectful coexistence and
stewardship of the land, which goes far beyond any Western liberal
democratic ideal.
I have been encouraged to think of human interconnectedness and
kinship in building alliances with Indigenous communities.
Black-Cherokee writer Zainab Amadahy uses the term “relationship
framework” to describe how our activism should be grounded.
“Understanding the world through a Relationship Framework … we don’t see
ourselves, our communities, or our species as inherently superior to
any other, but rather see our roles and responsibilities to each other
as inherent to enjoying our life experiences,” says Amadahy. From Turtle
Island to Palestine, striving toward decolonization and walking
together toward transformation requires us to challenge a dehumanizing
social organization that perpetuates our isolation from each other and
normalizes a lack of responsibility to one another and the Earth. This is an altered and condensed version of a chapter from the 2012 forthcoming book Organize! Building From the Local for Global Justice, edited by Aziz Choudry, Jill Hanley and Eric Shragge.
Harsha Walia is a South Asian
activist and writer based in Vancouver, Coast Salish Territories. She is
active in a variety of social movements, particularly migrant justice,
anti-racism, Indigenous solidarity, Palestine solidarity and
anti-imperialist struggles. In her organizing over the past decade, she
has prioritized support for Indigenous communities. Her writings have
appeared in alternative and mainstream magazines, journals and
newspapers.
In the fantastic
article “Sympathy and Solidarity: On a Tightrope with
Scheler” (1997) Sandra Bartky draws of Max Scheler’s work on sympathy (from
1913). He argues that there are
four forms of fellow-feeling, or feeling-with. We tend to call these empathy today, though she argues they
are sympathy. Those four forms are:
