Chances are you have already heard something about who anarchists are and what they are supposed to believe. Chances are almost everything you have heard is nonsense. Many people seem to think that anarchists are proponents of violence, chaos, and destruction, that they are against all forms of order and organization, or that they are crazed nihilists who just want to blow everything up. In reality, nothing could be further from the truth. Anarchists are simply people who believe human beings are capable of behaving in a reasonable fashion without having to be forced to. It is really a very simple notion. But it’s one that the rich and powerful have always found extremely dangerous.
At their very simplest, anarchist beliefs turn on to two elementary assumptions. The first is that human beings are, under ordinary circumstances, about as reasonable and decent as they are allowed to be, and can organize themselves and their communities without needing to be told how. The second is that power corrupts. Most of all, anarchism is just a matter of having the courage to take the simple principles of common decency that we all live by, and to follow them through to their logical conclusions. Odd though this may seem, in most important ways you are probably already an anarchist — you just don’t realize it.
Let’s start by taking a few examples from everyday life.
If there’s a line to get on a crowded bus, do you wait your turn and refrain from elbowing your way past others even in the absence of police?
If you answered “yes”, then you are used to acting like an anarchist! The most basic anarchist principle is self-organization: the assumption that human beings do not need to be threatened with prosecution in order to be able to come to reasonable understandings with each other, or to treat each other with dignity and respect.
Everyone believes they are capable of behaving reasonably themselves. If they think laws and police are necessary, it is only because they don’t believe that other people are. But if you think about it, don’t those people all feel exactly the same way about you? Anarchists argue that almost all the anti-social behavior which makes us think it’s necessary to have armies, police, prisons, and governments to control our lives, is actually caused by the systematic inequalities and injustice those armies, police, prisons and governments make possible. It’s all a vicious circle. If people are used to being treated like their opinions do not matter, they are likely to become angry and cynical, even violent — which of course makes it easy for those in power to say that their opinions do not matter. Once they understand that their opinions really do matter just as much as anyone else’s, they tend to become remarkably understanding. To cut a long story short: anarchists believe that for the most part it is power itself, and the effects of power, that make people stupid and irresponsible.
Are you a member of a club or sports team or any other voluntary organization where decisions are not imposed by one leader but made on the basis of general consent?
If you answered “yes”, then you belong to an organization which works on anarchist principles! Another basic anarchist principle is voluntary association. This is simply a matter of applying democratic principles to ordinary life. The only difference is that anarchists believe it should be possible to have a society in which everything could be organized along these lines, all groups based on the free consent of their members, and therefore, that all top-down, military styles of organization like armies or bureaucracies or large corporations, based on chains of command, would no longer be necessary. Perhaps you don’t believe that would be possible. Perhaps you do. But every time you reach an agreement by consensus, rather than threats, every time you make a voluntary arrangement with another person, come to an understanding, or reach a compromise by taking due consideration of the other person’s particular situation or needs, you are being an anarchist — even if you don’t realize it.
Anarchism is just the way people act when they are free to do as they choose, and when they deal with others who are equally free — and therefore aware of the responsibility to others that entails. This leads to another crucial point: that while people can be reasonable and considerate when they are dealing with equals, human nature is such that they cannot be trusted to do so when given power over others. Give someone such power, they will almost invariably abuse it in some way or another.
Do you believe that most politicians are selfish, egotistical swine who don’t really care about the public interest? Do you think we live in an economic system which is stupid and unfair?
If you answered “yes”, then you subscribe to the anarchist critique of today’s society — at least, in its broadest outlines. Anarchists believe that power corrupts and those who spend their entire lives seeking power are the very last people who should have it. Anarchists believe that our present economic system is more likely to reward people for selfish and unscrupulous behavior than for being decent, caring human beings. Most people feel that way. The only difference is that most people don’t think there’s anything that can be done about it, or anyway — and this is what the faithful servants of the powerful are always most likely to insist — anything that won’t end up making things even worse.
But what if that weren’t true?
And is there really any reason to believe this? When you can actually test them, most of the usual predictions about what would happen without states or capitalism turn out to be entirely untrue. For thousands of years people lived without governments. In many parts of the world people live outside of the control of governments today. They do not all kill each other. Mostly they just get on about their lives the same as anyone else would. Of course, in a complex, urban, technological society all this would be more complicated: but technology can also make all these problems a lot easier to solve. In fact, we have not even begun to think about what our lives could be like if technology were really marshaled to fit human needs. How many hours would we really need to work in order to maintain a functional society — that is, if we got rid of all the useless or destructive occupations like telemarketers, lawyers, prison guards, financial analysts, public relations experts, bureaucrats and politicians, and turn our best scientific minds away from working on space weaponry or stock market systems to mechanizing away dangerous or annoying tasks like coal mining or cleaning the bathroom, and distribute the remaining work among everyone equally? Five hours a day? Four? Three? Two? Nobody knows because no one is even asking this kind of question. Anarchists think these are the very questions we should be asking.
Do you really believe those things you tell your children (or that your parents told you)?
“It doesn’t matter who started it.” “Two wrongs don’t make a right.” “Clean up your own mess.” “Do unto others...” “Don’t be mean to people just because they’re different.” Perhaps we should decide whether we’re lying to our children when we tell them about right and wrong, or whether we’re willing to take our own injunctions seriously. Because if you take these moral principles to their logical conclusions, you arrive at anarchism.
Take the principle that two wrongs don’t make a right. If you really took it seriously, that alone would knock away almost the entire basis for war and the criminal justice system. The same goes for sharing: we’re always telling children that they have to learn to share, to be considerate of each other’s needs, to help each other; then we go off into the real world where we assume that everyone is naturally selfish and competitive. But an anarchist would point out: in fact, what we say to our children is right. Pretty much every great worthwhile achievement in human history, every discovery or accomplishment that’s improved our lives, has been based on cooperation and mutual aid; even now, most of us spend more of our money on our friends and families than on ourselves; while likely as not there will always be competitive people in the world, there’s no reason why society has to be based on encouraging such behavior, let alone making people compete over the basic necessities of life. That only serves the interests of people in power, who want us to live in fear of one another. That’s why anarchists call for a society based not only on free association but mutual aid. The fact is that most children grow up believing in anarchist morality, and then gradually have to realize that the adult world doesn’t really work that way. That’s why so many become rebellious, or alienated, even suicidal as adolescents, and finally, resigned and bitter as adults; their only solace, often, being the ability to raise children of their own and pretend to them that the world is fair. But what if we really could start to build a world which really was at least founded on principles of justice? Wouldn’t that be the greatest gift to one’s children one could possibly give?
Do you believe that human beings are fundamentally corrupt and evil, or that certain sorts of people (women, people of color, ordinary folk who are not rich or highly educated) are inferior specimens, destined to be ruled by their betters?
If you answered “yes”, then, well, it looks like you aren’t an anarchist after all. But if you answered “no”, then chances are you already subscribe to 90% of anarchist principles, and, likely as not, are living your life largely in accord with them. Every time you treat another human with consideration and respect, you are being an anarchist. Every time you work out your differences with others by coming to reasonable compromise, listening to what everyone has to say rather than letting one person decide for everyone else, you are being an anarchist. Every time you have the opportunity to force someone to do something, but decide to appeal to their sense of reason or justice instead, you are being an anarchist. The same goes for every time you share something with a friend, or decide who is going to do the dishes, or do anything at all with an eye to fairness.
Now, you might object that all this is well and good as a way for small groups of people to get on with each other, but managing a city, or a country, is an entirely different matter. And of course there is something to this. Even if you decentralize society and put as much power as possible in the hands of small communities, there will still be plenty of things that need to be coordinated, from running railroads to deciding on directions for medical research. But just because something is complicated does not mean there is no way to do it democratically. It would just be complicated. In fact, anarchists have all sorts of different ideas and visions about how a complex society might manage itself. To explain them though would go far beyond the scope of a little introductory text like this. Suffice it to say, first of all, that a lot of people have spent a lot of time coming up with models for how a really democratic, healthy society might work; but second, and just as importantly, no anarchist claims to have a perfect blueprint. The last thing we want is to impose prefab models on society anyway. The truth is we probably can’t even imagine half the problems that will come up when we try to create a democratic society; still, we’re confident that, human ingenuity being what it is, such problems can always be solved, so long as it is in the spirit of our basic principles — which are, in the final analysis, simply the principles of fundamental human decency.
Beaucoup de gens aujourd'hui changent de métier au moins une fois dans leur vie. Mais qu'en était-il au Moyen Âge?
«Que chacun reste dans sa profession sans jamais en changer.» Ainsi s'ouvre l'un des capitulaires de Charlemagne, émis dans les premières années du IXe siècle.
Aujourd'hui, les reconversions professionnelles n'ont jamais été si nombreuses: environ 9% des actifs et actives ont au moins une fois dans leur vie changé de métier. Derrière ce phénomène, on devine évidemment les effets délétères de la crise –près d'un tiers des reconversions se font après un licenciement– mais aussi la volonté d'un grand nombre de personnes d'avoir un travail qui leur plaise. Selon les statistiques officielles, plus de la moitié des reconversions sont en effet volontaires, même si ce pourcentage change beaucoup en fonction des domaines professionnels et de l'âge de celles et ceux qui changent de travail.
Qu'aurait donc pensé Charlemagne? Il faut réinscrire l'interdiction dans son contexte: à quoi pense l’empereur d’Occident lorsqu’il interdit ainsi à quiconque de faire un autre métier? Le terme latin utilisé est professio qui désigne au Moyen Âge une déclaration publique, et en particulier une déclaration de religion (c'est la «profession de foi»). Autrement dit, ce que vise Charlemagne ici, ce sont les clercs: ceux-ci ont en effet prononcé des vœux qui leur interdisent de quitter leur habit.
Cela dit, la suite du cartulaire précise immédiatement que les laïcs doivent eux aussi rester dans leur condition. Avec cette double précision, Charlemagne ne cherche pas à empêcher les reconversions professionnelles, mais à limiter au maximum la mobilité sociale. C'est bien ça qui fait peur: qu'un cordonnier devienne boulanger, tout le monde s'en moque (sauf ceux qui achètent son pain, mais c'est une autre histoire). Mais qu'un paysan devienne artisan, un artisan chevalier ou un clerc laïc: là est le danger. De tels changements brouillent en effet les frontières sociales, et risquent de conduire le monde au chaos. Si vous songez à vous reconvertir, aucune pression...
On connaît de nombreux exemples d'ascension sociale au Moyen Âge, en particulier à la fin de la période: des hommes partent de rien et, à force d'études, de travail, avec un coup de chance par-ci et un mariage habile par-là, obtiennent des postes importants, souvent synonymes de richesse et de gloire. Ainsi d'Audoin Chauveron, qui devient prévôt de Paris en 1381 ou encore Marco Polo, qui prétend que ses compétences linguistiques valent qu'on l'appelle «messire».
Mais cette mobilité sociale, importante, est généralement très mal vue. La société médiévale est une société d'ordres très attentive aux distinctions sociales et aux signes qui permettent de les repérer.
En interdisant les changements, Charlemagne fixe donc un idéal de stabilité: tout le monde à sa place, aucun changement, aucune évolution. Cet idéal, jamais atteint, participe de la construction de l'empire carolingien et contribue évidemment à mettre en valeur l'autorité du souverain: si personne n'a jamais le droit de changer de statut, cela revient à dire que le souverain ne craindra jamais aucune révolte ni aucun coup d'État –idée très importante pour les Carolingiens qui ont eux-mêmes pris le trône après un renversement politique. Cet idéal de stabilité est donc également un idéal de hiérarchie: quand tout le monde occupe une place fixe, il est facile de savoir qui est au-dessus de qui.
La méfiance profonde envers la mobilité professionnelle dure plusieurs siècles: au XVIIIe, Diderot écrit encore que «rien n'est plus funeste à la société que ces émigrations insensées» d'un métier à un autre. Au contraire, la pensée révolutionnaire va placer la mobilité sociale au cœur de la construction d'une société juste, composée de personnes égales. Comme l'écrit Rousseau, «tous les états sont indifférents, pourvu qu'on puisse en sortir: les gueux sont malheureux parce qu'ils sont toujours gueux».
Pouvoir changer de métier est donc une chance énorme. La mobilité professionnelle met en évidence notre liberté individuelle dans la construction de nos vies: on peut, plus ou moins facilement certes mais en tout cas sans blocage juridique, exercer n'importe quel métier.
Mais elle indique également que nous savons, plus aisément que les gens du Moyen Âge, prendre une certaine distance par rapport aux hiérarchies sociales et politiques: même si les inégalités économiques sont beaucoup plus importantes aujourd'hui qu'au Moyen Âge, le nombre de reconversions indique que nous refusons de figer ces hiérarchies. N'importe qui peut devenir n'importe quoi. À nous de savoir, pour parler comme Rousseau, sortir des états qui nous rendent malheureuses ou malheureux.
Au café du commerce, les conversations de comptoir n’ont plus la cote, progressivement étouffées par une colonie de travailleurs planqués derrière leur MacBook.
LE MONDE | 06.10.2017 à 15h15 | Par Nicolas Santolaria
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Aller boire un café dans un bar en journée vous expose potentiellement à ce spectacle laborieux : face à vous, des rangées de MacBook éclairent de leur lumière bleutée les nuques inclinées vers les écrans, laissant parfois apparaître dans un clair-obscur de manga les courbes moelleuses d’un muffin. Mutique, chacun est concentré sur son ouvrage, d’où sortira un bout de dialogue pour une série à la mode, un slogan publicitaire pour une crème de jour, des lignes de code pour une application mobile. Le silence est parfois si pesant que vous vous demandez si vous n’avez pas été téléporté par erreur dans le tympan de Beethoven.
« Oh, tu vas la mettre en veilleuse, Jean-Jacques Bourdin, y en a qui bossent, là ! »
L’effet contaminant de cette routine productive a transformé en profondeur le climat des bars, au point de dévitaliser ces foyers de vie sociale jadis dévolus à une forme de joyeuse cacophonie démocratique. Est-ce bien en ce lieu que l’on pouvait, il y a peu encore, débattre en braillant du problème des tomates qui « n’ont plus de goût », des radars qui « nous piquent notre pognon » et des enfants « qui ne disent pas bonjour » ? Là où elles faisaient de vous un polémiste de comptoir reconnu, vos vociférations risquent aujourd’hui de recevoir un écho bien moins enthousiaste, du genre : « Oh, tu vas la mettre en veilleuse, Jean-Jacques Bourdin, y en a qui bossent, là ! »
Il faut vous rendre à l’évidence, le zinc où vous aviez vos habitudes n’est plus que marginalement dévolu à la convivialité depuis qu’il a été envahi par les moofers, chatoyant acronyme anglo-saxon signifiant mobile out of the office workers. Ces free-lances nomadisés dont le rêve ultime est de réussir à s’asseoir à côté d’une prise de courant n’ont que peu de chose à voir avec la tradition existentialiste du travail dans les cafés, dont Sartre fut un ardent promoteur. Là où le philosophe se nourrissait de l’ambiance du lieu pour épaissir l’argumentaire de L’Etre et le Néant, le moofer a au contraire tendance à s’en abstraire par la magie ubiquitaire de la connexion Internet. Il est donc là sans y être, tel un figurant néantisé investi a minima dans la théâtralité du lieu.
Piratage des lieux de vie
Dans son ouvrage Microcapitalisme. Vers un nouveau pacte social (PUF, 216 pages, 14 €), François-Xavier Oliveau montre que l’entreprise, en tant qu’héritière des modes de production centralisés du XIXe siècle, est aujourd’hui concurrencée par ces unités unicellulaires aux coûts fixes réduits, qui ont méthodiquement opéré un piratage des lieux de vie.
Lire aussi : Aux Etats-Unis, des cafés débranchent le Wi-Fi pour que les clients se parlent
Ayant saisi l’ampleur de la menace, certains cafetiers coupent désormais le Wi-Fi ou interdisent les ordinateurs portables pour tenter de préserver une forme de chaleur humaine indispensable à la bonne tenue de la biodiversité sociale. Pour limiter les effets de cette mutation, peut-être faudra-t-il, d’ici quelques années, réintroduire artificiellement de volubiles piliers de comptoir dans ce qui était jusqu’alors leur habitat naturel. Là où elle était une évidence accueillante, la phénoménologie bruyante du café du commerce est désormais un combat à mener.