You’re excited about this month’s general assembly. It’s funny to be excited about a long boring meeting, but it’s fascinating to hear the reports from all the different committees. From food security initiatives to childcare collectives, the scope of the Solidarity Collective is truly impressive. As this month’s representative for your co-op housing group, you’ve got lots to share:
For months you’ve been arguing over terms, trying to hammer out a document that would reflect the exact wishes of everyone in your group. It’s been tedious work but you were finally able draft a constitution, and last week the legal team filed your papers to be registered as a non-profit organization. Meanwhile the folks in real estate have been looking at properties. Having come up with a list of criteria, you were able to evaluate your best option and now you’ve found what seems to be the perfect property. It’s a big old farmhouse with a massive wrap-around porch. The house is big enough that it could easily be divided into four separate units. There’s even enough land to construct a separate building with more “intentional community space” as Kim, the architect, would say. Everybody’s excited and ready to buy. The group put in a bid and just yesterday Kelly from finance negotiated the terms of a mortgage with the local credit union. The only details left to figure out is when you can take possession and move your stuff in. You had to beg your family to loan you money and you even had to take on extra shifts at work, but you finally managed to scrape enough together for a down payment to become a ‘founding member’. In other words, you are one of the proud owners of the Solidarity Collectives very first housing co-op.
As people arrive, the hall begins to fill with conversation and the fragrant aromas of tonight’s pot-luck. You become overwhelmed with a sense of optimism. Here it is: this is a grass roots community action coming together in mutual aid and solidarity. It’s tangible, it’s real. Other people are picking up on your energy too, they smile as they pass you and carry it to the next person they meet.
As you mingle with the crowd you overhear a group from the agricultural committee arguing over the feasibility of urban farming.
“I’m telling you, guerrilla gardening is nothing more than a hobby for lifestyle activists. It has no potential for actual food production.”
“We’re not talking a couple of seed bombs thrown in some empty lot, but legitimate community gardens with irrigation, volunteers, and everything.”
“Sure, but they’d still be only token gardens that would serve as educational tools at best. They wouldn’t produce more than a couple of meals. If we want food security, we need land!”
“What if there were fruit and nut trees planted all over the city in every neighbourhood? That could add up to thousands of tons of food per year. They wouldn’t even require much maintenance.”
You continue to eavesdrop the on conversation as you settle down for supper. The meal nourishes your body and the conversations stimulate your mind. By the time the chair calls the meeting into order you are fully energized.
“Welcome everybody, thank you all for attending this session of the general assembly. To get things started we’ll hear from all of the committees, then we’ll set an agenda for discussion afterwards. Is everyone in agreement?”
“I’m afraid not.” You turn to face the speaker who’s wearing a stern expression. “I’ve got terrible news. I’m sorry, it affects all the committees.”
The chair looks to the assembly, but nobody has the gall to interject. What could possibly be so bad?
“I checked the mail at the box which is nominally the address for this organization. As secretary, this is something I do before each general assembly. Today I received a notification from the chief of police. I’ll go ahead and read it to you.” Their voice is thin and shaky as they begin to read the letter.
“On the 28th of June, officers of the Metropolitan Police were confronted by members of the Solidarity Collective while carrying out their duties related to security at the G20 summit. The confrontation, which started early in the morning and lasted late into the day, prevented Metro police from carrying out their legal duties and resulted in officers being held hostage inside the detention centre while they guarded detainees taken from demonstrations that had turned violent. This constitutes a criminal act that was premeditated and organized by the anti-authoritarian organization known as the Solidarity Collective. We therefore recommend that the Solidarity Collective be classified as a criminal organisation and that the courts freeze any bank accounts and financial holdings associated with this organization.”
The news hits you like a smack in the face. You can literally feel your cheeks burning. A hard lump forms in your throat.
“No! Not now after we’ve worked so hard,” you mutter to yourself, half out loud and half in your own head. People’s expressions shift from surprise to anger and dismay as the full implications set in. Curses, prayers, and cries of indignation ripple through the hall.
“People, please!” the speaker earnestly appeals for calm. “This hasn’t happened yet. We will still have a chance to make our case in front of a judge. The threat is real though. We can’t take this lightly. We may want to consider investing as much of our liquid assets as possible for example.”
Your mind goes immediately to the housing co-op, to the long hours you worked saving up the money for the down payment. The house is not just a space to live in, but a place to build community, something bigger than yourself outside the rat race of hand to mouth living. In a flash all your hopes and dreams are reduced to ash, leaving nothing but doubt and uncertainty lurking in their place.
One thing is for sure, there are no guarantees working with the Solidarity Collective. But if the fight for justice were easy, they wouldn’t call it “the struggle.”
Original Photo by: Montreal Anarchist Bookfair