Introduction
By the time anyone arrives at a protest at Monument Circle, the Statehouse or any government entity, landmark, or plaza, private or state-owned cameras have captured our faces, means of transportation, and more. If we sent a non-encrypted message or made a non-encrypted call to anyone indicating our participation in the event, it’s private knowledge—the property of social media or other tech companies. If we took a ride-share or rented a bike to get there, companies and the state can access it. If we have “smart” phones on us, anyone can find out where we are.
If there’s a call for turnout at a City-County Council meeting, we pass through security and remain in a public building monitored by cameras and cops and in a meeting that is live-streamed by the City-County government. We are photographed and recorded by media outlets that are, hopefully, reporting on the meeting. One of the points of organizing a mass showing at a meeting or a protest, march, or other public action is precisely to demonstrate our support for or opposition to a particular measure to as wide of an audience as possible, an audience we want to win over.
None of this is news for the majority of our people, yet there is a minor but potentially damaging trend in the left that not only insists anonymity is possible but that it is necessary. These declarations are often accompanied by universal and abstract demands for “operational security.”
We are much more likely to encounter this trend on social media than in our workplaces or organizing spaces. Nevertheless, it is still worth addressing as it could potentially impede the movement and even put the lives of our most vulnerable neighbors—the very same people for whom this trend claims to speak—at risk.
The contemporary moment
Undoubtedly, certain levels of struggle require secrecy. During revolutionary processes, fighters and leaders at times remain underground or in exile. In such instances, during the previous lower phases of struggle, they were always known to the people. How else could they be recognized as leaders? Even when in hiding or living abroad, they were well known to the people and their enemies; they were never completely anonymous.
The level of struggle in the U.S. is at a much lower stage.
We are currently building movements and winning people over to our side. How can we do that if people don’t know who we are or what we look like? For those within the movement: do you want someone you can’t identify or someone who has proven their consistent dedication to the cause leading the march?
It is true that there are a variety of reasons that prevent people from being at the forefront of an action. Fortunately, that does not preclude participation in the struggle. While protests, marches, strikes, sit-ins, civil disobedience, and other forms of manifestation and disruption are necessary, they are not the only aspects of building a movement. Any public action is impossible without a great deal of behind-the-scenes planning. Those who cannot publicly be linked to any particular struggle can still make innumerable contributions to the cause—although this requires being part of an organization.
Further, there is always the possibility of repression—whether it takes the form of private actors “doxxing” and harassing organizers or the state using its bodies to intimidate, stalk, arrest, or imprison us. As the struggle intensifies, this possibility becomes an inevitability. However, there is no universal formula or playbook for how to navigate all potential circumstances; each must be carefully considered based on the factors at play—which are most accurately assessed through organization, which is a form of collectivized and centralized knowledge.
How abstract demands for “anonymity” hinder the movement
Let’s imagine that a group calls for a protest at Monument Circle and requires everyone to wear a mask, nondescript clothing, and to make every effort to remain “unidentifiable.” This assumes that all bodies are the same and this assumption is not only incorrect but dangerous. No body is the same as any other body, and the unity of diversity of our class is what presents the greatest threat to our enemies. In other words, it is one of our greatest powers.
There are several serious problems with these blanket demands for “anonymity.”
First, they can put certain oppressed members of our class—the very ones these “demands” profess to “protect”—at even greater danger of repression. For example, some people use their legs to walk, while others use a variety of mobility aids, from crutches and walkers to canes, prosthetic limbs, and manual or power wheelchairs. When a comrade shows up in a wheelchair, this could put a target on their back as they are even more easily identifiable.
Second, superficial demands for anonymity open the movement to infiltration. The actions of one or a small group of adventurists out of touch with the masses and the state of the struggle could engage in provocative behavior that would invite repression on all of us. We would have no way of holding them accountable and the police would have the justification they need to unleash their violence.
Third, and more generally, they put us on the defensive when we need to be on the offensive. Demanding abstract “security” measures only perpetuates the false atmosphere of fear our enemies are trying to impose on us. They want us in the shadows and afraid—because they know we are winning and we will win.
What is to be done?
There is no abstract or universal formula for safety. In general, the best way to protect each other and ourselves from any possible state repression is not by hiding but by being in public together, standing unafraid and building unity to defend anyone who might face repression.
We can’t defend someone from repression if we don’t know who they are or what they look like. We wouldn’t want to defend someone—and take on additional risk ourselves—without knowing their record and the reasons why we should stand with them.
The answer is to build the kind of organizations, united fronts, and networks of groups through which we can truly get to know each other, build trust, work through issues as they arise, and build unity—which as George Jackson reminds us, is a verb, not a noun.
“Unitary conduct implies a ‘search‘ for those elements in our present situation, which can become the basis for joint action” [1].
Perhaps, at this point in Indianapolis, the primary takeaway is that there is no progress without struggle, and there is no struggle without risk. We know we cannot count on the state to keep us safe; we keep us safe. It takes trust in the people you fight with to sustain the movement and each other.
References
[1] George L. Jackson, Blood in my Eye (Random House: New York, 1972), 105.