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Translated by Fiky Daulay
This essay departs from my rage and discontent in the state, its political-economic system, and mainstream environmental movements, which often draw media attention. My aim in writing this essay is to demonstrate that hope still remains amid the pandemic crisis. It is still alive, discreetly flickering in the midst of despair. Prefigurative politics may well be an example of this hope.
What are prefigurative politics?
There is no precise definition of prefigurative politics. Several academics, authors, or activists who have attempted to explain it, have come to a similar conclusion. The term was popularized in 1977 by Carl Boggs, an American academic, in his article “Marxism, Prefigurative Communism, and the Problem of Workers’ Control”.1 The main focus of the article was on the uprisings of workers’ councils in Russia, Italy, and Germany between 1917-1920. In his article, Boggs defines prefigurative politics as an organization or a movement that embodies “those forms of social relations, decision-making, culture and human experience that are the ultimate goal”.2
In their book Prefigurative Politics: Building Tomorrow Today (2019), Paul Raekstad and Sofa Saio Gradin describe prefigurative politics as “the deliberate experimental implementation of desired future social relations and practices in the here and now”.3 Unlike Boggs, Raekstad and Gradin further emphasize that prefigurative politics should be intersectional, because “after all, creating free, equal and democratic social relations requires changing not just formal institutions, but also how our social norms, values, divisions of labour, and other social practices affect our powers and what our organizations are really like.”4
Within the anarchist movement, Ruth Kina argues that, “prefigurative politics has been identified as a core concept in contemporary anarchist thinking”.5 In 2011, two months after the start of Occupy Wall Street,6 political theorist David Graeber identified prefigurative politics as one of four distinctive principles of the anarchist movement, the other three being direct action, civil disobedience, and the refusal of hierarchy. Graeber described Occupy as a “genuine attempt to create the new institutions of society in the shell of the old”.7 Expanding on this idea, Graeber linked prefigurative politics with the initiation of democratic General Assemblies, decision-making based on consensus, mutual aid, and self-organization, including kitchens, libraries, clinics, and media centers.8
I will not describe anarchism much further here because it is not my main focus. But the unpacking of forms of prefigurative politics that I will explain now, will be closely related to anarchist principles such as gotong royong9 (“mutual aid” in Indonesian), self-organization, anti-hierarchy, direct democracy, decentralization and voluntary association.
To realize our dream of a world where there are no exploiters or exploited, no dominators or dominated, no oppressors or oppressed, which in our present world is ongoing, we can collectively start sowing the seeds for this world today, through our action. It is key to imagine and practice alternative ways to stop ourselves from reproducing the Capitalist system,10 especially after more than two years in which the coronavirus has infected and caused the deaths of millions of people around the world.
The pandemic crisis is only one of many crises that have occurred and that are still ongoing, from economic to environmental crises, hunger, poverty and so forth. From the start, it has never been the aim of Capitalism to reduce these crises. On the contrary; they have always been galvanized and modified to generate as much profit as possible. But so far, it seems that Covid-19 has succeeded in unveiling the true face of the capitalist system, which is usually always concealed.
Countless times I have rewritten, erased, and changed some of the points I’m hoping to make in this essay. It feels like being trapped in a vicious circle. During my writing process, and since the second wave of Covid-19 broke out in Indonesia, especially Yogyakarta, the city where I live, I have read, seen and heard many horrible events (repeatedly). Although many victims died because of the lack of proper medical facilities, the governor of the Special Region of Yogyakarta instead blamed residents for being ungovernable, as they “seemed unable to stay at home after being instructed to do so.” Furthermore, the local government (Pemda) also imposed Restrictions on Community Activities (PPKM) without guaranteeing the city’s residents’ that their basic needs would be met.
What did they think? Did they think people would be able to stay quiet at home on an empty stomach, not being able to work? And what about people who are homeless or who do not have a place to live? Instead of allocating trillions of rupiah of special funds (“dana keistimewaan”) to provide the people with food and access to health care, the local government were instead busy assigning blame and forcibly controlling people’s mobility.
The hardships experienced by Indonesian people during the pandemic were further exacerbated by the government’s passing of the Omnibus Law for job creation, and major revisions to the Mineral and Coal Mining Law (Minerba). This law aims to provide people in power with easier access to maximize profits by exploiting both humans and nature. In fact, long before the new law was passed, the pandemic had become a justification for corporations to arbitrarily fire their workers under the pretense that they were unable to pay their wages because their earnings had plummeted drastically.
It is not a coincidence that the coronavirus, which has infected millions of people across the world, broke out as the environmental crisis deteriorated. Rob Wallace, an epidemiologist, argues that “the real danger of each new outbreak is the failure […] to grasp that each new Covid-19 is no isolated incident”.11 According to him, the “increasing occurrence of viruses is closely related to food production and the profitability of multinational corporations.”12 He also adds that “anyone who aims to understand why viruses are becoming more dangerous, must investigate the industrial model of agriculture and, more specifically, livestock production”.13
The increasing need for multinational corporations to relentlessly maximize profits fosters land grabbing which in turn causes deforestation. In the end, it is the lives of indigenous communities, villages, and non-humans, who are most threatened. Even the urban poor are not exempt from forced evictions by the state on the grounds of “development”. In 2000 alone, for example, Konsorsium Pembaruan Agraria (KPA, or “the Consortium for Agrarian Reform”) noted that there were 241 agrarian conflicts being monitored by them.14 Yayasan Lembaga Bantuan Hukum Indonesia (YLBHI, or “the Indonesian Legal Aid Foundation”) and the Alliance of Indigenous Peoples of the Archipelago (Aliansi Masyarakat Adat Nusantara, AMAN) noted 41 cases of violations committed by the state and multinational corporations against indigenous communities. These violations took the shape of criminalization and land grabbing, to spiritual right violations and environmental pollution.15
This does not mean that there is no resistance from those who are marginalized. One example are the residents of the village of Wadas (Purworejo, Central Java), who are currently resisting a quarry mine that will later be utilized for the construction of the Bener Dam in other villages. For the people of Wadas, who are mainly farmers, their village is the ‘land of heaven’ that has always provided them with a source of livelihood. If mining is carried out, the land that is their source of livelihood is prone to extinction. The Wadon (“Women”) of Wades have been organizing various direct actions, from building roadblocks, to resisting the mining company mounting a tent in the village hall, to the suing of Central Java governor Ganjar Pranowo, which is underway.16 Aside from the people of Wadas, there are many others who are fighting to defend their land in their own ways. It is only one of many examples rooted in the structural violence produced by the state and other extractive systems.
So one can imagine the worst possibilities after these two laws [the Omnibus Law and the Minerba Law, ed.] have been passed. I vividly recall how excitedly the Indonesian House of Representative (DPR) held their meeting until midnight to speed up the process of passing this anti-people law. It seems strange to me that the House of Representatives is said to ‘represent the people’s voice’. In practice, people can manage their own lives and take care of each other.
This became especially clear when the government first implemented a lockdown in almost all areas. People worked together to distribute free face masks on the street, they set up public kitchens, free markets and gardening communities in order to survive together in a crisis situation. The horizontal autonomous movements, in which citizens participated voluntarily, ran smoothly without any assistance from the government, political parties or institutions, and without regulations or anyone being regulated.. Although it does not mean that there were no obstacles in the implementation, their current existence shows that solidarity among people is quite effective, at least to fulfill common basic needs.
Now let’s get to the fun part, in which I’ll discuss some examples of prefigurative politics.
I’ll start with Pasar Gratis Jogja (“Jogja Free Market”), where I had the chance to talk with the people involved on several occasions. Thinking of the enormous number of goods that are produced every single day across the world, you’d think there would be more than enough for everyone. Yet, with the current economic system, basic needs have been transformed into commodities: products to be purchased and sold. Pasar Gratis tried to resist that in simple ways. Every time a market was held, it provided clothes, food, and sometimes drawing workshops for kids. And sometimes there were people who offered services like haircuts, blood pressure or glucose level check-ups. And all of it was completely free.
Many people visiting the market asked if the free market was a social aid-related activity from the university. Every individual who participated gave more or less the same answer: Pasar Gratis is not a charity movement, it is a form of protest. Unlike common charities that usually aim to ‘save’ the poor in the name of compassion, this collective was able to act on the realization that we as part of an oppressed society, cannot continue to expect aid from those in power, who deliberately created the oppression to begin with.
With regard to the collective’s organizational aspect: every individual is free to determine their role and is aware of their own responsibilities. They also do not have a chairman or a leader. In the decision-making process, all opinions or critiques will always be heard and respected. Everyone has equal power.
In the Region of Yogyakarta, Pasar Gratis has flourished in three places: in the cities of Yogyakarta, Bantul, and Wonosari. Since the start of the pandemic, other Pasar Gratis have begun to spread in several regions across Indonesia (perhaps there are dozens now).17 No, they are not branches. Each is established and organized by different people. Even though they are not centralized, they got to know each other and foster solidarity through social media and by visiting stalls in each city. In 2020, several Pasar Gratis located in different regions in Indonesia held day-long markets simultaneously.
Based on my observations, Pasar Gratis is not only about experimenting with the production of an independent economic system. On market days, they also create spaces where people can gather, get to know each other, share stories, exchange knowledge and skills, and have fun together without having to spend money. So Pasar Gratis is not simply about creating space, it’s more about creating spaces that enable us to expand and strengthen solidarities. As someone born and raised in Jogja, I have noticed how communal spaces like these have increasingly started to erode in the past few years. Even if you only want to enjoy green scenery, you have to go to a coffee shop near a rice field or river (where of course you have to buy a drink or food). Unbelievable.
Perhaps for most people, a movement like Pasar Gratis doesn’t really have a major impact, especially when it comes to climate justice. But according to environmental activist Gopal Dayaneni, “[…] if you want to understand the climate crisis, you can’t look up at the atmosphere and count carbon, you have to look down at the economy, at the erosion of land and labor and loving systems and the exploitation of seed and soil and of story. And I think that’s the place where, for me, the real imagination lives, it lives in the ability to both imagine a different way of being in the world, a different set of relationships to each other.”18
This also reminds me of the Social Ecology theory of Murray Bookchin, which states that “hierarchies (social, political, economic, or otherwise) are the root cause of all human social problems and also create the conditions for human exploitation of nature, leading to ecological crises.”19 And in fact, that’s what has been happening until now. However, the good news is that we have the choice to stop living like this.
The solidarity movement that started amongst people during the pandemic is proof of this. Instead of struggling alone, helping each other to deal with this crisis turned out to be a better way. Prefigurative politics have been practiced on a large scale long before the pandemic broke out. This kind of resistance is not a new phenomenon.
In the summer of 2012, many different ethnic and religious communities in the Northern and Eastern parts of Syria, a territory better known as Rojava, got together to build a pluralist, decentralized, gender-egalitarian, and ecological independent system of self-government.20 The self-government system they use is known as ‘Democratic Confederalism,’ which Dilar Dirik, activist of the Kurdish women’s movement, describes as follows:
“’Democratic Confederalism’ is a social, political and economic model of self-administration of different peoples, pioneered by women and the youth. It attempts to practically express the people’s will by viewing democracy as a method rather than an aim alone. It is democracy without the state.”21
“The system places “democratic autonomy” at its heart: people organize themselves directly in the form of communes and create councils. In Rojava, this process is facilitated by Tev-Dem, the Movement for a Democratic Society. The commune is made up of a consciously self-organized neighborhood, and constitutes the most essential and radical aspect of the democratic practice. has committees working on different issues like peace and justice, economy, safety, education, women, youth and social services.”22
“While the communes are the areas for problem solving and organizing everyday life, the councils create action plans and policies cohesion and coordination.” […] “Commune sends out elected delegates to the councils. Village councils send delegates to the towns, town councils send delegates to the cities, and so on. Each commune has their own autonomy, but they are linked through a confederal structure for the purpose of coordination and the safeguarding of common principles.” […] “The communes work towards a “moral-political” society made up of conscious individuals who understand how to resolve social issues and who take care of everyday self-governance as a common responsibility, rather than submitting to bureaucratic elites.”23
In their publication Make Rojava Green Again: Building an Ecological Society (2018), the Internationalist Commune of Rojava elaborate on their ecological principles:
“Rojavan society, a cooperative, ecological, and decentralized mode of production is the goal. All assets, or natural resources, must be socialized, and the economy democratized. It is crucial that production be decided on the basis of a democratic process of negotiation. It must be based on the possibilities of an intact and balanced ecological system and on the capabilities of the people themselves.”24 […] “There are already 57 cooperatives, comprising around 8,700 families, in Cizîrê Canton alone.”25 […] “The Rojavan system builds on community self-government in communes and production in cooperatives. It’s intended that all resources, such as water, energy and land, become common goods”.26
In the first chapter of the book Pandemic Solidarity: Mutual Aid during the Covid-19 Crisis (2020), Emre Sahin and Khabat Abbas write: “During the early days of the pandemic, the AANES [the “Autonomous Administration of North and East Syria”, ed.], established a Central Crisis Committee bringing together representatives from the areas of education, security, health and local governance”, with the aim to provide aid for affected community members.28
Aside from managing local lockdowns, the committee distributed food to residents who were required to stay at home and also governed medical facilities in all areas. In March 2020, they decided to close down schools and move to online learning. For residents living in rural areas with irregular access to internet, teachers delivered course materials in print-outs and CDs.29 Moreover, “due to the ongoing war, embargo and lack of health infrastructure,” the committee’s strategy was “to prevent the spread of the infection and prioritize public health over the economy.”30
In short, the residents of Rojava have a say in the highest levels of government, which means that “Shelter, food, healthcare, education and employment are not left to the mercy of the market or the state. It is nearly impossible to find people sleeping on the street or begging for food or money in NE Syria.”31 People’s direct involvement in decision-making fosters social relations, and an economic and political system based on collective care, including care for nature.
Based on the two examples I have unpacked above, there are lessons to be learned when we think about how we could reduce the impact of climate destruction in the midst of other crises that are getting worse every day. Unlike mainstream climate movements whose demands tend to remain within the framework of the state, the practice of prefigurative politics firmly demonstrates its reluctance to compromise with the current systems that have caused the destruction of the balanced nature of ecosystems on Earth.
However, it is necessary to emphasize that prefigurative politics will never be able to exactly resemble the kind of society we desire in the future (I have no idea what it would look like, what is certain that it will always be in becoming, dynamic, and non-homogenic) as long as we are still in the grip of this oppressive system. Prefiguration is just one of many ways that we can work together to destroy Capitalism. Yet, the social order that prefigurative politics attempts to actualize situates itself outside of the structure of coercion and oppression, and therefore it can open up many different possibilities. Prefiguration also allows us to be better prepared to face any crisis in the future. In addition, individuals engaged in this experimental practice can experience firsthand the freedom they are building together in the here and now.
I don’t know exactly what the future will look like. It is likely to deteriorate, but it could get better. Or it could be a combination of both. Based on my personal experience of participating in prefigurative politics, I have learned that climate justice is part of the relentless daily struggle for total liberation from the oppression, domination and exploitation of today’s ruling systems.
The world where all forms of life can live and thrive together is not only possible, it is in the making.
Endnotes:
1 See: Carl Boggs, “Marxism, Prefigurative Communism, and the Problem of Workers’ Control,” Radical America 11 (November), 1977. Available via: https://libcom.org/library/marxism-prefigurative-communism-problem-workers-control-carl-boggs. Accessed on 24 March 2022.
2 Idem.
3 Paul Raekstad and Gradin Sofa Saio. Prefigurative Politics: Building Tomorrow Today (Polity: 2019), pp. 10.
4 Eivind Dalh and Paul Raekstad, “What is Prefigurative Politics? How large scale social change happens”, The Anarchist Libarary (15 February 2020). Available at https://theanarchistlibrary.org/library/paul-raekstad-and-eivind-dahl-prefigurative-politics. Accessed on 24 March 2022.
5 Ruth Kinna, “Utopianism and Prefiguration,” in Chrostowska, S. and Ingram, J. (eds), Political Uses of Utopia: New Marxist, Anarchist, and Radical Democratic Perspectives (New York, NY: Columbia University Press, 2016), pp. 198. Available at https://usa.anarchistlibraries.net/library/ruth-kinna-utopianism-and-prefiguration. Accessed on 23 March 2022.
6 It should be noted that aside from its success, since the start of Occupy Wall Street, “Indigenous individuals have pointed out how offensive the [activists’ (mostly white settlers)] articulation of “occupy” claims were,” because “to assert people “take back Wall Street” and “occupy” erased the actual legacy of colonial occupation of Indigenous peoples’ lands, and the fact that Wall Street itself is built on dispossession.” From: J. Kēhaulani Kauanui, “The Politics of Indigeneity, Anarchist Praxis, and Decolonization”, Anarchist Developments in Cultural Studies, Vol. 2021 No. 1, hal. 21, pp. 21. Available at https://journals.uvic.ca/index.php/adcs/article/view/20169/8928. Accessed on 24 March 2022.
7 David Graeber, “Occupy Wall Street’s anarchist roots”, Aljazeera Opinions, 30 November 2011, online newspaper. Accessible at https://www.aljazeera.com/opinions/2011/11/30/occupy-wall-streets-anarchist-roots/. Accessed on 24 March 2022.
8 Idem.
9 Translator’s note: In Indonesian, gotong royong means voluntarily helping each other to work together for a desired outcome.
10 As I mention the system of Capitalism here, this also includes all other, intersecting oppressive systems such as the nation state, racism, colonialism, white supremacy, heteropatriarchy, speciesism, ageism, and ableism.
11 “Where did the coronavirus come from, and where will it take us? An interview with Rob Wallace, author of Big Farms Make Big Flu”, Uneven Earth, 12 March 2020. Accessible at http://unevenearth.org/2020/03/where-did-coronavirus-come-from-and-where-will-it-take-us-an-interview-with-rob-wallace-author-of-big-farms-make-big-flu/. Accessed on 23 March 2022.
12 Idem.
13 Idem.
14 Catatan Akhir Tahun 2020 Konsorsium Pembaruan Agraria: Pandemi Covid 19 dan Perampasan Tanah Berskala Besar. Konsorsium Pembaruan Agraria. Available at: https://www.academia.edu/es/45189636/Catatan_Akhir_Tahun_KPA_2020. Accessed on 23 March 2022.
15 Iman Firdaus, “YLBHI: Perampasan Lahan dan Pelanggaran Hak Masyarat Adat Terus Berulang”, Kompas TV, 29 January 2021. Accessible at: https://www.kompas.tv/article/142326/ylbhi-perampasan-lahan-dan-pelanggaran-hak-masyarat-adat-terus-berulang?page=all. Accessed on 23 March 2022.
16 Bambang Muryanto, “Tanah Surga’ Wadas Dijadikan Tambang: ‘Mengapa Pemerintah Menindas Petani?,” Project Multatuli [online magazine], 24/05/2021. Available at
https://projectmultatuli.org/tanah-surga-wadas-dijadikan-tambang-mengapa-pemerintah-menindas-petani/. Accessed on 24 March 2022.
17 There are other collectives that hold similar principles but operate under a different name, for instance Ruang Bebas Uang (RBU, or “Free Space”). This collective has also spread to other parts of Indonesia.
18 Ayana Young, “GOPAL DAYANENI on the Exploitation of Soil and Story”, For the Wild, 7 May 2021. Transcript available via: https://forthewild.world/podcast-transcripts/gopal-dayaneni-on-the-exploitation-of-soil-and-story-232. Accessed on 24 March 2022.
19 Modibo Kadalie, Pan-African Social Ecology. Speeches, Conversations, and Essays, (Atlanta, US: On Our Own Authority!, 2019), pp. 40.
20 Emre Sahin and Khabat Abbas, “Communal Lifeboat: Direct Democracy in Rojava (NE Syria),” Pandemic Solidarity: Mutual Aid during the Covid-19 Crisis, edited by Marina Sitrin and Colectiva Sembrar (London: Pluto Press, 2020), pp. 3.
21 Dilar Dirik, “Building Democracy without the State,” Roar Magazine, Issue #1: Revive La Commune! (Spring 2016) [online magazine]. Available at https://roarmag.org/magazine/building-democracy-without-a-state/. Accessed on 23 March 2022.
22 Ibid.
23 Ibid.
24 Internationalist Commune of Rojava, Make Rojava Green Again: Building an Ecological Society (London: Dog Section Press and Internationalist Commune of Rojava: 2018), pp. 90-91. Available at: https://files.libcom.org/files/make-rojava-green-again.pdf. Accessed on 23 March 2022.
25 Ibid, pp. 92.
26 Ibid, pp. 91
27 Access the full Twitter post here: https://twitter.com/GreenRojava/status/1330179184778489858
28 Emre Sahin and Khabat Abbas, pp. 5-6.
29 Emre Sahin and Khabat Abbas, pp. 14-15.
30 Emre Sahin and Khabat Abbas, pp. 7.
31 Emre Sahin and Khabat Abbas, pp. 4-5.
© 2021 the author
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