RAMBLINGS FROM DARES

(this month Milly)

What's Going On Here?

When I volunteered to write this, my initial thought was that it would be some kind of brief recollection of memorable moments from living at DARES, painting a picture of all the wholesomeness that happens here: gratitude circles before fire-side communal meals, the ways we witnessed spring burst to life, watching young Molly & Francis step into their badass beings, and maybe I was even gonna chuck in some fun facts I’ve learned about wood (hazel is bendy, willow is magic etc.) And sure, that’s all peppered throughout, but on a recent stroll through the neighbouring forest it felt clear that what I feel most drawn to share here are some reflections on the role DARES has had on my activist journey since I first came here five years ago, and the ways I perceive DARES to fit into the wider political context of radical spaces and projects. Basically I wanna zoom out and in from different angles to examine what makes DARES so wonderfully radical, why spaces like these are so essential to the intricate web of revolutionary change.

There’s loads of stuff in here I’ve been contemplating for a while, but I’ve never actually tried writing about any of it. And I definitely won’t be able to do justice to the depths of these topics. So may you be kind and patient witnesses (please 🙂) as we dig in! [insert permaculture joke here]

Where it started

DARES has been a home to me, on and off, for several years. I first came down in the autumn of 2020 and was mesmerised by the magic of the space, the way it feels both cozy and open, the birdsong and big oaks welcoming you in.

Before this visit, in the summer of 2020, after a period of unprecedented separation and isolation, and fueled by the Black Lives Matter movement after the murder of George Floyd, a crew of us got to organising anti-racist community circles around East London. Many of those involved were squatting empty buildings and exploring what more radical, communal ways of living were, ways that were more outside of the harmful systems we were fighting against in our organising efforts. My first visit to DARES was during this period and, although brief, has really stuck with me as a significant moment in my political journey, as it allowed me to feel into what alternative communal living could be like and the contagious nature of welcoming and generosity (shout out Piers). So shortly after my visit, as winter lock-down loomed upon us, I decided to move out of my flat and see where the squat-adventures would take us.

I found squatting nourishing in many ways (the freedom! communal living! check-ins! the jam sessions! the on-going co-created projects! not having to give most of my money to a landlord!) - yet cold and tiring. For the first few months we struggled to find a building we were able to stay in for more than a few weeks, so we were constantly moving our stuff around from place to place in the cold, scouting for new possible buildings to break into. Many of us were also involved with intense organising at the time, in particular for the Kill The Bill campaign that emerged on the back of the murder of Sarah Everard and the introduction of the Police, Crime, Sentencing and Courts Bill. After getting kicked out of our second building, feeling frustrated, maybe a bit lost, definitely a bit burnt out, we went down to DARES to re-coop, catch our breaths, warm up our cold little fingers.

This is what DARES became for myself and so many others- a space where weary heads could take a break from the adrenaline fueled escapades of city activist life. A space where you were free to catch up on some quality time with the trees, creatures of the forest. A space where like-minded people, people who were also worried as fuck about the state of the world and were trying to do something about it, came together and shared stories and food and were able to just be. In a world of poly-crisis, collapse, and tremendous suffering and disconnection- a world that demands so much from us- how radical it felt to just be. Not as a tool of isolating ourselves from the suffering of the world, but as a way to replenish ourselves to be more focused and intentional in how we show up in times of struggle.

That’s the thing about DARES- what it’s able to accomplish through its simplicity. Sure, in many ways living communally is super complex, yet there is such clarity and ease- relief, even- that comes from being in a space with a shared understanding of care for people and planet. And this understanding can then serve as a foundation, a soft yet firm cradle, for the complexities to dance upon.

The "Yes" and the "No"

The journey into squatting marked the beginning of several years of living mostly nomadically whilst engaging pretty much full-time with a range of activist groups, mostly focused in fighting against violent and racist policing and borders. Throughout these years, through my own observations and from endless beautiful, winding conversations with mates, I began to notice patterns and tendencies within these spaces and became more intentional in understanding how different “radical” spaces may contribute (or not) to revolutionary change.

I further developed the language around these thoughts at a strategy weekend held at DARES with a collective of other community organisers (shoutout CARGO) who, after several years of intense organising, came together to reflect and contextualize where we had been and to think intentionally and collectively on how we might move forward.

We explored various dichotomies that are evident in social justice spaces, the one most striking to me was “prefigurative” vs “non-prefigurative “. Prefigurative meaning embodying the alternative systems we need to thrive (autonomous zones, community-based alternatives, solidarity economy)- described by Raekstad and Gradin as: "the deliberate experimental implementation of desired future social relations and practices in the here-and-now." And the latter meaning pushing up against/seeking to dismantle harmful systems we seek to dismantle (direct action, protests). We discussed in depth how the most effective social movements were the ones that fell somewhere in the middle of this spectrum, encompassing both.

Engaging in this exploration felt like an awakening- it gave name to thoughts, observations, feelings that had been rolling around for years. It provided a frame-work to understand why I became so frustrated in activist groups that prioritised productivity over care, and why I struggled so much in alternative community spaces that prided themselves on being so outside the system they didn’t have to pay attention to its harms.

(I drew the above last summer to try and visualise this spectrum)

This line of thought really solidified itself when I read the book “We Are Nature Defending Itself” written by two activists, Isabelle Fremeaux and Jay Jordan, who went through a similar process to myself- were tired of the direct action to burn out cycle, and were seeking to live in ways that were in more directly in resistance to systems of oppression. They landed at the Zad (meaning “Zone to Defend”)- a decades long occupation and autonomous zone created against an airport proposed to be built on a precious ecological area. They described the dichotomy of prefigurative and non-prefigurative as simply the “yes” and the “no.”
Occupations are perfect examples of the embodiment of the “yes” and the “no”. It’s not just that folks are (trying!) to create a non-hierarchical, anti-capitalist way of living, but it’s also that doing so is physically stopping capitalist harm from taking place. Other examples of these are Stop Cop City, Standing Rock, HS2 Camps, the Zapatistas. Creating the alternative whilst simultaneously resisting what currently exists. This in theory, for me, is where it’s at. And it’s totally easier said than done- I’m sure we are all pretty aware that it’s one thing for a space to be, in theory, “horizontal”, and it’s often a whole other story how this plays out in practice.

I’ve used this “yes” and “no” spectrum to analyse and better understand “radical” spaces I’ve been in, on different scales. Sometimes I find there to be a beautiful balance- for example, sharing meals, music, and political education (the yes!) at pickets of arms factories sending weapons to Israel (the no!). Sometimes the balance is too far “yes”- at a Rainbow Gathering in Portugal, for example, where everything is communal (great!), there is no exchange of money (very cool!), we hold hands and sing before eating all meals together (cute!). But there is no pushing back against systems of oppression; instead there is a deep avoidance, which is a privilege that comes at a great cost for folks who do not have the liberty to simply “step out” the system when it suits them. There’s also many spaces, in my opinion, too far in the “no”- i.e. direct action groups that are certainly effective in fighting the system, but reproduce harmful ways of relating in the process, leading to burn-out and isolation.

How we mimic the beast itself

I’ve often been struck at how frequently activist and organising spaces re-create the systems that they are fighting against. How often, in resistance to the detriments of capitalism, we organise in ways that reproduce this system through emphasis on productivity, individualism, and even competitiveness- which then creates the conditions for burn-out and disconnection. Left unchecked, as many of us know, this productivity-oriented to burn-out cycle perpetuates itself. Of course this cycle is negative and harmful, but it makes total sense why it happens– the injustices, crises, genocides we are fighting against are urgent and demand attention! And we care, so we act! And it can feel icky, unnatural, guilt-ridden slowing down while knowing how fucked so many things are. I was stuck here- the only option was goggogogoogogogogoo and I came to resent anyone that wasn’t also gogogogoogogogo. But I learned the hard way, as many of us do, that tending to our grief and fatigue, embodying rest and slowness- this is as much a revolutionary tactic as a protest, rally, demo, whatever it might be. And having access to DARES as a space was integral to not just knowing this (step one), but really fucking feeling this to be true (step two and beyond)

Isolation isn't radical! (Too far yes)

Both/And

So this is it, the crux of what I have learned from the past years: it’s not either/or. It’s both/and (shout out mags <3). It’s about that sweet spot: spaces that are creating the alternative world we want to live in whilst simultaneously pushing back against harmful systems. It’s about taking care of one another in real, meaningful community-focused ways that demonstrate we are capable of not just existing, but thriving, when we relate to one another without being reduced to pawns in a competition of productivity as a means of creating profit. Okay cool Milly we get it, but why is this in a DARES newsletter? Because I think DARES is beautifully radical, and in my experience also rare, in its [imperfect] endeavor to embody both the “yes” and the “no,” the “both” and the “and.” And living here, immersing myself in the day-to-day amongst my beloved fellow groundskeepers and all the magical people that pass through the space, has reinvigorated and solidified something within me that is imperative for everyone, in particular those devoted to radical systemic change: hope. I don’t mean hope in some wishywashy way- I mean hope in the way abolitionist Mariame Kaba talks about it– “hope is a discipline.” She writes: It’s work to be hopeful. It’s not like a fuzzy feeling. Like, you have to actually put in energy, time, and you have to be clear-eyed, and you have to hold fast to having a vision. It’s a hard thing to maintain. But it matters to have it, to believe that it’s possible, to change the world. You know, that we don’t live in a predetermined, predestined world where like nothing we do has an impact. Change is, in fact, constant, right? … And so, because that’s true, we have an opportunity at every moment to push in a direction that we think is actually a direction towards more justice. Living at DARES has, on a deep and molecular level, laid bare to me what is required in this discipline of hope. Of what care is. Of what showing up for one another is. Of what is required of us in these times of live-streamed genocides, of poly-crisis, of collapse, of the rise of fascism. Because we’re not here isolating ourselves from the painful realities of our world, we aren’t just doing the “yes” and pretending the suffering of so many isn’t a reality. Instead we are creating a space, creating the conditions where we can all look at it together, in a way that says: Yeah this world is painful to look at, so why don’t we look at it together? And then we will know, in this collective looking, that we are not alone. And then, when we act, it will be not from the fear that comes from isolation, but from the resolve that something better is possible; that we are capable of so much more. So many activists come through the space at DARES, often tired, in need of rest, of respite from adrenaline fueled protests, or from the soul-sucking interiors of a crown court or even a prison cell. And of course DARES isn’t physically stopping the construction of an airport or a pipeline or a high-speed railway. But it is playing its radically necessary role in this web of resistance we so desperately need.

Check in, anyone?

Alright now I wanna explore some of the collective practices we have at DARES, I guess that could be considered part of this “work to be hopeful.” Like many, I’ve often been mystified by the mechanical ways we have been conditioned to relate to one another. It’s like we’re on autopilot with the “how are you?” “Fine, thanks, and you “yeah fine thanks.” Our society, in particular in the UK, really doesn’t equip us with the skill of speaking truthfully to how we are feeling, of what we might be struggling with.

Spending decades of my life perplexed by our societal disconnect has made me fall deeply and madly in love: with check-ins. It’s a simple yet so deeply radical act- to sit in a circle with a group of people, each person having the space to talk about how they are doing, and being listened to without interruption. Check-ins have been integral to my feeling of safety and belonging to living here at DARES.

In particular this last winter check-ins became, in my opinion, one of the key ways us groundskeepers were able to stay connected and support one another. Our heroic, badass mother of two, Alexia, was found guilty for an action holding the UK government to account for its lack of action on the climate crisis, and faced up to ten years in prison. The period from the trial to the sentencing was one of uncertainty; it felt difficult to process the possibility of Alexia being locked away, especially from Molly and Francis. And for me personally, the prospect of not having my best mate around was heartbreaking. Frequent check-ins, I feel, allowed us to have space to share how we were doing, listen to what was going on for the others, and, crucially, how we could support and care for one another. I was struck by how even with people I am surrounded by all day every day, it often wasn’t until we sat down together intentionally that we really got insight to how everyone was doing. And how, through our dedication to people-care, we didn’t let the violence of the state lead us to despair, but instead further solidify our resiliency and resolve.

The Power of Naming Tensions

Another practice we have here at DARES is what we call the Quadruple T. This stands for Today, Tomorrow, Tensions, and Thanks. Each night, usually over dinner, we go around and say how our day was, our plans for tomorrow, any tensions we might have, and something we’re thankful for. I wanna speak quickly to the third T- tensions. Similar to how I feel we are ill-equipped to say how we are really doing, I feel we are also, generally, not very skillful at vocalising what tensions we might have with other people in a space. Often we feel more comfortable bottling it up, letting it build, and/or venting about it without the person present. When we first started doing tensions, 95% of the time the response was “ummm, nothing! No tensions!” Which, as many of us know from living with other people (especially communally), is hard to believe to be true. And it makes sense why we were pretending they weren’t there- cause we are often conditioned that bringing up a tension implies the person has done something wrong, or is bad or has failed in some way. It can feel like a personal attack.

But then we started to lean into it, to step into the discomfort, and it’s been fucking great. We share niggles and nags that have been niggling and nagging us and instead of stuff building up, we address stuff as it comes. I’ve learned that this practice of sharing tensions has had such a positive impact on the easefulness I have in the space- I often overthink and worry that I’ve done something wrong or people are mad at me etcetc. Having a space to constructively air stuff out allows me to let go of these negative thought-trains and trust in our culture of radical and compassionate honesty. By no means have we perfected the art of naming and addressing tensions, and we probably never will. But the journey and practice in itself is encouraging us to relate to one another with more trust and authenticity.

J O Y !

Okay maybe I made it seem like life at DARES is some on-going stream of intense check-ins and tending to tensions and it all feels very serious. But even in the darkest days of winter, with the sentencing looming, we laugh sooo much together. We have this beautiful dance of quips and bits that comes from living so closely with other people, especially in the context of our relatively unconventional way. There’s an on-going subtle (sometimes less so) thread of absurdity to how we live that we are all in tune with and toy around with. We hold things lightly and playfully. And those that pass through bring their own flavours of silliness and we continue this on-going co-created giggle-fest. And just like the check-ins and the tension-sharings are a reflection of our care for one another, our joy is, too. Our joy is a middle finger in the face of the systems we are in resistance to.
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Abolition!

It feels important to note that everything I’ve talked about can be seen, analysed, lived through a framework that, throughout the years of scrambling to make sense of different approaches to change, has been the only one that has made truly made sense to me, that has become foundational to how I see the world and understand approaches to social change: abolition.

Similar to how we’ve outlined the ‘yes’ and the ’no’- abolition is about co-creating systems of care-as Ruth Wilson Gilmore- “abolition is about presence, not absence. It’s about building life-affirming institutions”- whilst simultaneously dismantling harmful systems. Abolition recognises our current system of racialised capitalism cannot be reformed- that its functionality depends on the oppression racialised and working class people. Liberation for all therefore requires the dismantling of this system.

I feel DARES is a life-affirming space, for the humans and more-than-humans here. A space of gentle yet persistent presence. Of unlearning and relearning. We as a project are engaged in this on-going process– of interrogating what is required of anti-capitalist space, to not fall into the harmful patterns of dominant systems, to address how power dynamics show up. This is reflected in many ways: no one is turned away from the space due to lack of funds; storers of value have an equal say no matter how much money they are able to contribute. Yet we have work to do: we are a predominately white and able-bodied group and are interrogating why this is and what conditions need to be addressed to shift this. The project team is also a group of folks that, overall, have access to various forms of capital, meaning we have inevitable blind spots and a limited scope of lived-experience. And we are set out to humbly and transparently address this, dig into the discomfort of it, and continue to transform the project & space to being truly by and for the [all] people.

Lettuce wrap this up

Wowza that was long and rambly and I feel like there’s so many topics I didn’t even mention that I’d like to explore further (spiritual bypassing in community spaces! the lack of decolonisation in community spaces! the importance of class/wealth/inheritance analysis and redistributive structures! queerness! art as a political tool!) But for now I’ll leave it here, with a quote from Angela Davis that has been a guide for many years, a quote currently in big letters across the board in the communal hub at DARES:

You have to act as if it were possible to radically transform the world. And you have to do it all the time.

May we, as a DARES community and beyond, collectively ‘act as if’ and support one another authentically and joyfully as we find our way within the entangled and interconnected threads of radical change.

THANKS FOR READING LOVE U ALL AND FREE PALESTINE XXX

P.S. If you appreciate what we do here at DARES and would like to support, donations are very welcome!

Oakhaven Collective CIC

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