By Steve D’Arcy
In the aftermath of the riot that took place during a St. Patrick’s Day street party on Fleming Drive, many Londoners were unsure how to react. Instinctively, many of us recoiled at the predictable calls to restore Order and crack down on the rioters. After all, we had been saying for years that a popular rebellion from below was just the kind of thing needed to push back against the relentless attacks by big business and the state on the living standards of workers and students, the poor and the unemployed. We had been inspired throughout 2011 by the wave of street rebellions in popular takeovers of public space, in cities like Tunis, Cairo, Madrid, Barcelona and Athens.
Was this riot, on Fleming Drive, the sort of people’s revolt we had been waiting for?
Some seemed to think so, celebrating the fact that the rioters threw stones and beer bottles at police, and burned a CTV news truck, suggesting (to some) that the rioters were attacking the state and the corporate media. Others were less convinced.
When we think about a case like this, it’s worth remembering that, although in general there are far too few riots, and we should (in general) welcome popular revolts from below, it would be too simple to say that any riot is automatically a good thing. In the real world, riots range from racist lynch mob riots to morally exemplary outbreaks of civic virtue in defiance of the state’s immorality. To pretend that every riot is good is as implausible as the opposite mistake, the claim that every riot is immoral and irrational.
When we look at a particular riot, we need to know, first, whether it is a “grievance” riot (rebelling against an injustice) or a “recreational” riot (seeking to have a good time). What led many of us to reject the picture of the Fleming Drive riot as a political rebellion was precisely that it looked to be a clear case of recreational rioting. I base this on the obvious drunkenness of the participants, the comments a few people made to reporters (which talked about partying and alcohol but didn’t mention any grievances), and the fact that the rioters were chanting “Fanshawe! Fanshawe!,” rather than “Fuck the police!” or anything else that could be recognized as a slogan or a political message.
Was the CTV truck was targeted as a gesture of indignation toward the corporate media? If so, it might be more plausible to suggest that this was a political, not just a recreational event. In the absence of any evidence suggesting that interpretation, however, it seems like it could just as easily have been an ice cream truck.
How can we tell the difference between a real “people’s rebellion” or grievance riot and a mere outburst of drunken “hooliganism”? I believe that the mark of a public rebellion, as opposed to a recreational riot, is that public rebellions (grievance riots) struggle to establish and defend “public autonomy.” Public autonomy –- the self-rule of the people – is what the Zapatistas (Indigenous rebels in Chiapas, Mexico) were asserting when they drove the Mexican army out of their territories and declared, “Here, the people command, and the government obeys!” Using public autonomy as our standard requires, among other things, that we expect rioters’ actions (to attempt, at least) to enhance the power of the people to dictate the terms of social cooperation, such as by weakening the capacity of elites (politicians, the rich, the military) or unresponsive systems of power (markets, bureaucracies) to do so.
Well, then: Did the Fleming Drive rioters enhance the power of the people to dictate the terms of social cooperation, by weakening the capacity of elites or unresponsive systems of power to do so?
For a time, the capitalist state was pushed out of the neighbourhood, and that counts in favour of the rioters. But the crucial role played by drunkenness seems to weaken the claim that the people were asserting some kind of public autonomy. They certainly showed no interest in putting popular assemblies or councils in place to form a kind of “dual power” (institutions of popular self-rule, independent of the state, serving to challenge the state’s claim to dominance. The apparently “recreational” character of this riot can be made clear by simply asking a rhetorical question: If the rioters had been told that there would be free beer on one side of the street, and a popular assembly on the other side, which side would they have rushed toward? Having watched videos of the rioters demeanor, I think I’m quite sure of the answer.
Considering all of these factors, it seems best to associate the Fleming Drive riot more with fraternity parties that get out of hand, rather than something like the Los Angeles Rebellion or other grievance riots. A “festive” mood can certainly be characteristic of a grievance riot. But, conversely, rioting behaviour can also be characteristic of a drunken college kid party. Fundamentally, though, drunken parties are drunken parties; rebellions are rebellions. This seems like it was a drunken party, not a grievance-motivated rebellion. Accordingly, the locked out EMD picketers, who placidly walked back and forth on their picket lines just down the road from this riot, had more in common with the LA rebellion participants (who were rebelling against racist police violence) than did the Fleming Drive rioters. The EMD workers and the LA rebels were both trying to stand up against injustice.
I’m not saying that people should start handing over videos to the police and identifying people’s pictures, like happened after the hockey riots in Vancouver, and to a lesser extent here in London. That can only work against public autonomy and enhance police power and the “Law and Order” agenda. But the Fleming Drive rioters actually remind me less of militant protesters than of the Richmond Row drunk people who, every Friday and Saturday night at 2 or 3am, wander through the neighbourhood tipping over mail boxes and throwing bicycles over the Blackfriars Bridge.
Those of us who want to see a popular revolt from below against austerity and the tyranny of the 1% here in London will have to keep waiting. And organizing.
Steve D’Arcy is an environmental justice and economic democracy activist, and a researcher who writes about democratic theory and practical ethics. He lives in London, ON.
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