The decision to read Vincent Bevins’ latest book “If We Burn: The Mass Protest Decade and the Missing Revolution” had much more to do with the questions it raises than any of the answers it provides. It is a scattered chronology of the 2010s that jumps from country to country in an effort to make sense of the decade that saw the largest mass protests in human history but ultimately had little to show for it. The obvious parallels to the failures of Occupy Wall Street and the George Floyd Uprising made for excellent discussion, and although the book’s structure doesn’t offer the most cohesive narrative, it allowed us to dive deeper into the history of countries that most Americans rarely talk about. In a world increasingly destabilized by the contradictions of both neoliberalism and imperialism, knowledge of recent global events and questions about the structure of our own organization are of the utmost importance if we want to be prepared for the mass movements that the future will undoubtedly provoke. However, while Bevins does a great job at demonstrating what doesn’t work, he is much more ambiguous about what does.
So why did the mass protest decade often result in the opposite of what those taking to the streets were demanding? According to Bevins, this is because of the commitment to horizontalism and prefigurative politics that was so prevalent among organizations in the 2010s. Horizontalism can vary in form but is defined in opposition to democratic centralism or Leninism, the most common form of organization among the Old Left. For the New Left that emerged in the West in the 1960s, a structure that forced all of its members to submit to the will of the majority or be removed from the organization could only lead to bureaucracy and authoritarianism. In an attempt to combat this tendency, organizations like the Students for a Democratic Society made a conscious commitment to a leaderless form of organization they called participatory democracy.
A lack of formal structure means that there are no mechanisms to hold members accountable and no transparent process by which to determine the organization’s leadership.
The problem with horizontalism, as laid out by Jo Freeman in “The Tyranny of Structurelessness,” is that all groups of people will inevitably have leaders, whether it be a clique of friends or a particularly ambitious individual. A lack of formal structure means that there are no mechanisms to hold members accountable and no transparent process by which to determine the organization’s leadership. This serves to mask the true power dynamics of the organization and make internal reform more difficult. While this appears to satisfy a prefigurative form of politics that refuses to compromise its democratic ideals, in practice, the lack of structure offers an advantage to middle class individuals with more free time, resources, and education. In the end, these forms of organization are generally ineffective at seizing and maintaining power against much more structured foes. If the means are the ends, you will greatly limit the range of possibilities, especially when your opponents do not share the same values.
Organizations like the Movimento Passe Livre in Brazil had such anti-hierarchical commitments. Although they were able to generate the exact spectacle they wanted and successfully pressured local elites to make concessions, their insistence on the protests remaining “apolitical” created a power vacuum that was exploited by the right-wing to push through neoliberal reforms. What started off as an attempt to prevent local governments from raising the bus fare ended with a parliamentary coup and Jair Bolsonaro’s rise to power.
When politicians are thought to be powerless to change things, attacks on the entire political system become more appealing, no matter how undemocratic.
The MPL had a strict no-party policy, meaning political organizations were discouraged from openly participating in the street movement. This was especially true because the supposedly sympathetic Workers’ Party was the one imposing the fare hikes in the first place. As the protests grew to include more of the general Brazilian population, the anti-party atmosphere morphed into one of anti-politics. When politicians are thought to be powerless to change things, attacks on the entire political system become more appealing, no matter how undemocratic. An imposter organization was formed by right-wing think tanks to co-opt the protests, capitalizing on the general discontent to push their own agenda. These imposters did not share the MPL’s aversion to hierarchy or power. They used the same anti-establishment rhetoric to opposite ends, taking advantage of the political ambiguity of the protest’s single-issue campaign, as well as the media’s eagerness to assign the movement more palatable representation. The MPL quickly lost control and collapsed, leaving its ideological rival to take the reins of the movement it had started and redirect it back against the Left.
The obstacles that the MPL struggled to overcome were faced by other organizations throughout the book, some with even worse outcomes. Structural problems included long and inaccessible meetings due to the MPL’s consensus decision-making process, a lack of centralized onboarding for new members in order to help retain a coherent ideology, no official spokespeople or political representation to combat false media narratives, and an inability to change tactics as conditions evolved. There was no plan for after the protests.
Constraints on labor and political organizations in many of the countries mentioned certainly made it much more difficult for any kind of coordinated preparations to exist before mass protest erupted. In the case of Brazil, those kinds of organizations were the exact things the protestors opposed. Chile was considered the most successful mass protest movement from the book, in large part because the streets had the support of organized labor and were in complete opposition to the party in power. The uprising became a strike that had a real effect on the Chilean economy. As a concession, the ruling class offered a referendum on a new constitution to replace the incredibly unpopular one still in place from the Pinochet dictatorship.
Many of the protestors in Chile initially felt betrayed, favoring instead the neighborhood assemblies that had formed during the protests and a constitution that would incorporate this style of decision-making. However, these councils had no means to implement any reforms—let alone form their own government—and the protests eventually died down, forcing the country to accept a convention, which would create a new constitution through the institutions of the existing government. Despite their initial disappointment, most activists went on to participate in the successful referendum. One of the original student protestors, Gabriel Boric, eventually became president. This, Bevins argues, is the most one can expect from a spontaneous uprising.
Following the events of the book, Lula da Silva of the Brazilian Workers’ Party returned to power after defeating Bolsonaro in the 2022 presidential election. He has brought back a lot of popular social programs, protections for the Amazon, and a foreign policy program that defies Western interests. In Chile, on the other hand, it’s hard to imagine that anyone is very happy with the current state of things. President Boric deployed the Chilean military against the indigenous Mapuche, who had escalated fighting with the government and lumber companies during the previous administration. Later that year, the Chilean people overwhelmingly rejected the first proposed constitution that would have given disproportional representation in favor of indigenous communities, who make up only 12% of the population. The second proposed constitution was even further to the right than the original it was to replace, but this also failed, although by a considerably smaller margin. Boric has since decided to hold off on any more proposals until after his term as president. Perhaps this is why so many activists on the losing side of the 2010s felt that their failed movement was only the start of something bigger, while the more “successful” Ukrainians are in the worst predicament since the fall of the Soviet Union (Bevins considers Ukraine a “draw” because an increase in nationalism was one of the street movement’s objectives).
Bevins himself describes the three “truisms of revolution”—security forces must be defeated or defect, the ruling class must be divided, and that revolutions are contagious.
While problems with the horizontalist form of organizing were made apparent, it’s hard to say if any alternative was even possible in most of the countries mentioned, to say nothing of success. Bevins himself describes the three “truisms of revolution”—security forces must be defeated or defect, the ruling class must be divided, and that revolutions are contagious. In addition to all of that, since the fall of the Soviet Union, the United States has encouraged uprisings around the world, confident that the result will be a government more sympathetic to western interests and opposed to communism. Even when the Left is able to come to power, capital strikes and sanctions will usually be enough to force the new government to adopt neoliberal reforms anyway, as seen with Lula in Brazil during his first term. If that doesn’t get the job done, NATO’s brutal execution of Muammar Gaddafi in Libya serves as a example to those outside the imperial core of what will happen if they don’t fall in line—one that Putin took personally, causing him to come out of retirement and adopt an adversarial stance towards the West.
Granted, Bevins is not suggesting that we recreate the vanguard parties of the 20th century. One suggestion he makes in his conclusion is a book by Rodrigo Nunes titled “Neither Vertical Nor Horizontal,” which advocates for a Leftist ecosystem that has different groups organized in different ways but who all interact and cooperate with one another. This brings to mind SYRIZA in Greece—a hierarchical mass organization of various Leftist groups that came to power in 2015. The coalition had captured the legislature but was nevertheless forced to adopt the very same neoliberal reforms they had opposed due to their dependence on the European Union. Failures like this can generate massive backlash. However, as an organization within the United States, we face an entirely different set of circumstances, considering our position as the current financial hegemon of the global economy and with no larger military to intervene.
If the failures of Occupy Wall Street and the George Floyd Uprising taught us anything, it’s that a spontaneous uprising won’t be enough on its own. If Bernie Sanders taught us anything, it’s that an electoral revolution within the Democratic Party is a dead end. The state of the labor movement in the U.S., despite the occasional splash, is struggling to keep its head above water. We are in a phase of rebuilding on the Left, detached from our past while still having to contend with the present. History is far from over, as the struggle in Palestine has shown. Its echoes can be heard, as they are in the nationwide encampments and the strike of the UAW’s graduate students across the University of California campuses. If the Democratic Socialists of America are serious about our role as a big tent organization, we would be doing our best to synthesize these lessons and build a serious organization that can unite all of those who struggle against the capitalist system in favor of the working class and all oppressed peoples.
This means what DSA stands for varies greatly from place to place, and this lack of cohesion creates tension between chapters. The lack of consensus on anything at all makes producing publications very difficult. The composition of members tends much more middle than working class, yet the only intellectuals we can claim are Barbara Ehrenreich and Eric Blanc. We insist that we are a big tent for radicals, but our structure keeps us chained to the status quo.
The current DSA has much more in common with the Students for a Democratic Society than it does with the Bolsheviks. Local chapters have a large degree of autonomy, while the national organization is dominated by the largest concentrations of members in cities like New York and Los Angeles. These chapters tend to be more moderate than the general membership since they have more material connections to the Democratic Party, and there are other organizations in more densely-populated areas for socialists to join. Outside of large cities, DSA may be the only game in town. Membership swells and deflates depending on the general political atmosphere and sometimes when we get credit for things we didn’t even do. For example, DSA was given credit by the media for leading the March for Palestine in New York, when in fact the local chapter tried to distance themselves from the event. While the majority of DSA chapters have taken stances against Zionism, chapters like New York have been more reluctant to purge the ideology, as doing so would distance themselves from the Democratic Party and their perceived influence within it. This means what DSA stands for varies greatly from place to place, and this lack of cohesion creates tension between chapters. The lack of consensus on anything at all makes producing publications very difficult. The composition of members tends much more middle than working class, yet the only intellectuals we can claim are Barbara Ehrenreich and Eric Blanc. We insist that we are a big tent for radicals, but our structure keeps us chained to the status quo.
In the era of anti-politics, we must offer a truly revolutionary vision if we are to get the attention of a population that has correctly stopped believing that politicians can do anything for them and, rather than resorting to apathy, will accept anything that promises to actually change things.
In the era of anti-politics, we must offer a truly revolutionary vision if we are to get the attention of a population that has correctly stopped believing that politicians can do anything for them and, rather than resorting to apathy, will accept anything that promises to actually change things. People are willing to embrace radical ideas, be they from the right or the left. If DSA is to be the great unifier among the Left, it must have consistent Leftist convictions. Strict democratic centralism tends to create splits within organizations, and therefore would not be an appropriate restructuring for a big tent organization. However, having no established red lines for our membership or political representatives will always result in an organization that tends reformist and alienates the more radical organizations, as well as the working class itself. We do not seek a popular front with liberals, we seek a united front with other socialists. To establish that, we must first define our interests as distinct from the capitalist class, rather than always tailing the Democratic Party. We must reintroduce class struggle and property relations in the realm of mainstream political discussion. If we have no mechanism for holding our own people accountable, there is nothing stopping them from switching sides the second they have a small taste of power, damaging our reputation in the process.
There are no easy and obvious answers, but there are wrong ones. Palestine has created another rallying call for mass protest, and the DSA is in no better position to respond than it was during the George Floyd Uprising. Rather than shying away from our political differences, we should embrace them, and through those discussions, create a program that the vast majority of Leftists can get behind and that the capitalist class considers an actual threat. It doesn’t have to be perfect, but it does need to lay the groundwork for an independent working class party. Perhaps “Neither Vertical Nor Horizontal” will be our next book club. We hope you’ll join us.