blake 3:17
31st March 2014, 03:13
Leaving: An Interview With Andra Schmidt
thepeakonMarch 29, 2014/0 comments
Andra Schmidt discusses her transition from activism and organizing to working as a journalist and filmmaker. by the Peak
How has your contribution to political struggle changed over the years? Can you talk about why that is?
In my twenties, I spent a number of years actively organizing for social change anti-gentrification work, migrant justice work, anti-war and anti-imperialist activism, and solidarity work with movements around the world. I effectively stopped doing that work when I became a professional journalist and by professional, I mean both that I started getting paid to do journalistic work, and that I became bound by the codes of ethics of the profession (which can be interpreted in a range of ways) and of the various news organizations for which I have worked (which are more clearly defined).
I decided to become a journalist in large part because I had a number of experiences that led me to burnout, and to intense dissatisfaction with slogans. I think the burnout and the sense of hitting an intellectual dead-end were related. Slogans, statements of principles, and demands, while integral to any campaign, didnt seem adequate for evaluating movement successes and failures, never mind for analyzing and interpreting the mess in the world around me. I remember feeling exhausted and alienated at a demonstration when I was about 27 years old there were internecine quarrels about strategy dividing the scene I was part of that hadnt healed, and werent going to. And someone, an older person, referred to me in conversation that day as having responsibilities as an elder in the movement. And I thought, oh my god, this is crazy. Im 27 years old. I dont know anything about how this is supposed to work. I desperately need more skills, experience, and political tools and I crave older mentors who could advise me about all those things, and about how collectively we could get out of this rut were in. But theres no one around that I have that relationship with, and suddenly Im being told Im an elder in the movement? I wanted to cry. I wanted out.
The one person in my life at the time who I respected politically and intellectually and who acted as an important and generous mentor to me was a journalist. So maybe its not a huge surprise that I decided that journalism would be what Id do for the next period of my life. On the one hand, I thought journalism (unlike writing press releases) would allow me to ask questions that would lead to murky but very interesting and instructive political territory beyond what Id held to be ideologically true. And its practice would also allow me to hone a critical practice, and a more dispassionate vantage point from which to learn about social movements across the political spectrum and around the world. I hoped that that would, after many years, allow me to understand more clearly how social change actually works (and why so often it doesnt).
So thats what I do now. I make current affairs documentaries, mostly, about a whole range of issues, in lots of different places. (Ive had the opportunity to make news docs about topics as diverse as the war for drugs in Mexico, the failures of the international community after the 2010 earthquake in Haiti, the ways in which US anti-terrorism policy contributed to the impact of the famine in Somalia, the ways in which inequality and a financial crash in the US gave rise to the Tea Party, and life after Guantanamo for former detainees in Yemen). If I had to describe the kind of journalism I do in a nutshell, Id say that I focus on the policies and practices that make some lives worth less than others and the movements that rise to counter them. The documentaries tend to be more analytical than most things on television, and also to amplify voices less often given a media platform. I hope theyre useful to people who are organizing. But its not the same as organizing thats no longer what I do.
Have your politics and your approaches to social movements changed as youve gotten older?
I dont think that my fundamental politics and values have changed. And I do think that those political convictions tend to motivate the first questions I ask when observing an event and trying to figure out how to explain whats going on. (I believe this to be true of all journalists, no matter their political background. I think our most deep-seated convictions frame the questions we are most likely to ask first.) But I do think that the practice of journalism has demanded that I learn to ask a wider range of questions, and look at things from as many perspectives as possible. Its made me solicit and forced me to try to accurately interpret points of view that deeply unintuitive to me, and sometimes very uncomfortable, in the interest in telling the truth. Inevitably, this has made me less sure of certain things I might have accepted as truths or self-evident before. And I think its given me a more textured and multi-dimensional view of how governance and statecraft function (or fail). Maybe its made me more open to considering a broad range of political expression, strategies, tactics as potentially useful in different contexts, and yet somehow more cynical about any given one as *the* way forward. Which doesnt really matter, since Im observing and interpreting as a journalist, not driving things as a political operative, or making strategic or tactical decisions as a movement organizer, or choosing how to articulate those decisions in agitprop or press releases or speeches.
Also, I think that watching movements rise and fall over and over again makes you a bit of an agnostic about what works and what doesnt, why the cycles happen the way the they do, why so much creativity and effort can sometimes really cause a shift and other times remains subcultural. Also agnostic about basic definitions: what does imperialism mean in the 21st century? What does grassroots mean, say, in the context of the US? I dont have easy answers to these questions, which then impacts how I think about social change.
I think that when learning about and analyzing social movements as a journalist, I tend to take a broader view of things. Maybe its the deferral of judgement the space in which critical questioning thrives or maybe its having had the chance to observe, at least superficially, how things work in many different societies around the world, or maybe its just that as you get older more and more of your peers start having children and spending time fulfilling the range of responsibilities that creates. Or perhaps its just self-justifying. But I find Im much more prone to accepting that there are different phases of life that one devotes to different things, and that a healthy community needs to make space for people in all those different phases, and lasting movements need to acknowledge the different roles that people play and the different contributions they make in different periods of their lives.
How has your life changed? How does that affect how you interact with organizers and/or the movement?
Financially, Im much more stable than I was when I was organizing almost full time, and honestly, that makes it a lot easier to feel mentally, physically and psychologically well. Worrying about being able to pay rent, feeding yourself never mind dependents and struggling to acquire and scrounge together the tools you need to work is tremendously draining. I could write a long treatise on capitalism and creativity.
I think Im still as obsessed with politics as Ive ever been, and as single-minded about whatever project Im working on at a given moment. And I do love politics, which are at the heart of almost every story I tell. I dont have children, and not having them has been a very conscious decision, affording me more flexibility to take physical and financial risks, and be obsessive and single-minded about what I do. (Thats just a personality trait though I think its useful, both as an organizer and as a producer. In both spheres it alienates some people, and attracts others. Im ok with that.)
But as I mentioned above, working as a journalist has meant a separation from the movement a critical separation, in the sense that I no longer contribute to it as an organizer, and to the extent that I cover it or parts of it I do so as an outsider asking the tough critical questions about strategy and accountability I would ask of any movement or group of people. But also a physical separation I have lived in different cities since I stopped organizing, have developed close relationships with colleagues and people outside the movement that are as loyal and fraught as those I maintained with co-organizers for many years.
At times, there has been an intense loneliness to this separation, but also a relief. The movement, as I experienced it in my twenties, was very insular. When I left and started moving toward journalism, separating myself, I was terrified that I would no longer exist, that I would lose any identity I had at that point. And at the same time, one of the interesting things about growing older in this separation is that Ive learned that some of the relationships that were forged in the movement are really amazingly enduring, and those loyalties have, over the years, transcended a range of political choices and weathered the separation. And thats a source of great joy and gratitude.
Do you work in a community of people your age? Or are they mostly younger?
Now I mostly work with people my age, and people 10 to 12 years younger. I really like working with younger people because theyre energetic and enthusiastic about things that Im getting jaded about. Sometimes that causes friction but I think its productive. Also, it makes you realize how stories and political themes/dynamics persist or recur and are rediscovered by new generations of journalists which is both frustrating if youve seen it before and think theres nothing new to learn by exploring the theme again, but also thank god, because actually we do learn new things by investigating stories that have been done before, exploring themes that have been discussed before. I think there are probably parallels there for people organizing in social movement settings.
And because I have a huge debt to the two or three people who have mentored me, I try to be a good mentor to younger journalists I get to work with. I think sometimes I fail single-mindedness, exhaustion, competitiveness all being reasons but I try. Its crucial. I think that relationship is likely different from what you get in horizontal social movements for better or for worse, my relationships with younger people tend to be as their supervisor on projects where Im the journalist with more experience and seniority in a hierarchical newsroom. I try to moderate that when I can, in light of my experience in more horizontal collectives.
I also really like working with younger people because theyre still allowed to feel good about wanting to learn everything. By the time youre my age, youre supposed to have learned all your skills, and be in the process of perfecting them, building retirement savings on the basis of them. But theres still so much I want to learn both technically, and more generally about how the world functions. So working with younger teams or with people my age who are similarly still curious and want to learn new stuff and experiment feels more dynamic. And it keeps me from calcifying.
At the same time, it can be challenging. Sometimes when Im working with new teams, and particularly new teams of younger journalists, I long for the shorthand I have with people Ive worked with for years. That thing where you get new information, and you can figure out what youre going to do about it together with a look, or a few words. You dont need to talk through everything in detail. (I remember feeling this way about tight knit crews of activists I organized with too. ) That level of shared experience can be a real strength in crisis situations, or on a tight deadline it allows you to move fast. And its a real solace when youre doing something difficult, scary or exhausting. At the same time, it can make you insular and lazy, and over time that becomes a weakness for both journalists and outward looking social movements.
Are there communities youve organized with in which people of all ages, and people with and without kids, manage to work together? How do they do it? Why do you think its so hard for so many of us?
The activist scene I grew up in wasnt particularly intergenerational. There were certainly older activists involved in important ways, but they were the exception, and either they didnt have kids, or their kids were grown up. Some people had kids, but I think they often really struggled with how to think about their involvement when they could no longer attend meetings every night of the week and for large chunks of the weekend. Certainly when the movement was organizing with communities beyond itself (yes, even that diction raises a range of questions, doesnt it) things got a lot more intergenerational. There were kids, extended families, meals, contingencies. Things also seemed to get less polarized, ideologically speaking, less petty on a personal level. I think those contingencies force a certain level of pragmatism, for better or for worse.
Why do you think people drop out of activism/organizing?
Ive briefly told my story of leaving activism/organizing to do something else. But people leave for lots of different reasons. Anecdotally speaking and this is by no means supposed to be a comprehensive overview here are a few.
I think that when organizations are heavily repressed, or when campaigns stagnate, or when movements are on the downswing after euphoric moments of convergence, victory or heightened hope (these things seem to go in cycles), activists and organizers tend to turn on each other. Instead of focusing on repressive state apparatuses, exploitative corporations, or systems designed to dispossess, and because they are worn out, they fight over petty things as though they were foundational issues, trade accusations of not being ideologically correct or sufficiently radical, and wage power struggles that are (relatively speaking) beside the point. Ive heard organizers in certain circles referring to this recently as lateral violence, which is a helpful term. These are moments when I think people do exit the movement out of a sense of disillusionment and alienation. The disjunction between the rhetoric of social justice and the petty cruelty with which people can launch accusations in these moments can be hard to overcome when youre already exhausted (or facing charges, or worse). And that same disjunction can throw a range of movement hypocrisies, unaddressed oppressions, tacit discriminations, dishonest glorifications and other shortcomings into stark relief. When the people you thought were your friends turn on you, you start questioning everything theyve told you.
Other people start to feel like theyve outgrown the subcultures associated with certain organizing practices or activist scenes, and it becomes more onerous to remain involved when most of your peer group has moved on. This is most obviously the case with various forms of organizing rooted in student or campus activism.
And still other people end up dropping out because they have children, or because they get jobs that make it difficult (and occasionally impossible) to participate in the way they have in the past. Having small children is time-consuming and shifts most peoples sense of responsibility the risks you take, be they financial or legal, suddenly have significant implications for someone totally dependent on you. I get how thats a huge deal, even though I havent had that experience myself. I also notice that different parents respond to that shifting set of pressures and responsibilities in different ways. Many new parents I know remain actively involved in social movements; not everyone disappears. But I do think that the new time constraints are significant. And I would guess that they impact new parents ability to engage in the kinds of socializing that binds various organizing commitments and activities in many scenes youre not going to go drinking after meetings three nights a week and be at every benefit show if youre responsible for a six month old. I imagine that this would alter ones sense of belonging to various activist scenes I can remember even if one were still able to attend meetings three nights a week.
In every generation, I would guess that as some people leave or become less involved, it poses new challenges for those wanting to remain present and engaged in the movement. Ive talked about all the great things about working with younger people. But there can be difficult things about having the same debates over and over again with new sets of people, and a frustration that develops with mentoring and supporting people until they leave too, in what seems like an inexorable cycle. That can be depressing. Perhaps attrition is contagious.
But I want to stress that I dont think people necessarily drop out of the struggle forever when they decide to do different things. I do know people in their fifties and sixties who, after their kids are no longer totally dependent, or prompted by other events, return to activism and to organizing. Or they begin to be able to contribute the skills and experience theyve developed in other phases and areas of their lives directly to more political work again. I guess Im saying that what can look like dropping out at a certain point in a life can, from a different vantage point, turn out to look more like a departure required in order to return, or even one of many such separations.
Do you think its important for our movements to be intergenerational? If yes, how do you think we should develop intergenerational struggle?
I can imagine very effective militant groups or activist cadres with specific tactical or even strategic purposes that are not intergenerational.But I cant imagine any lasting and successful social movement that isnt intergenerational. On some level, thats tautological. If a social movement lasts, people in it will get older, younger people will join or be born into it
For that to happen, for a social movement to last, for people not to age out of a web of relationships and activities, or a scene, I think there has to be a clear recognition that people have different levels of involvement and ways of contributing at different stages of their lives. Also, a recognition that people can come and go to a certain extent.
I dont think its just an issue of child care during meetings I tend to think its more about how you conceptualize what the movement actually is, what animates it, what nourishes it, how far it extends, and how rigid its boundaries need to be. ∆
Andra Schmidt is a journalist and award-winning producer-director of current affairs documentaries.
www.whatescapes.tumblr.com
@whatescapes
thepeakonMarch 29, 2014/0 comments
Andra Schmidt discusses her transition from activism and organizing to working as a journalist and filmmaker. by the Peak
How has your contribution to political struggle changed over the years? Can you talk about why that is?
In my twenties, I spent a number of years actively organizing for social change anti-gentrification work, migrant justice work, anti-war and anti-imperialist activism, and solidarity work with movements around the world. I effectively stopped doing that work when I became a professional journalist and by professional, I mean both that I started getting paid to do journalistic work, and that I became bound by the codes of ethics of the profession (which can be interpreted in a range of ways) and of the various news organizations for which I have worked (which are more clearly defined).
I decided to become a journalist in large part because I had a number of experiences that led me to burnout, and to intense dissatisfaction with slogans. I think the burnout and the sense of hitting an intellectual dead-end were related. Slogans, statements of principles, and demands, while integral to any campaign, didnt seem adequate for evaluating movement successes and failures, never mind for analyzing and interpreting the mess in the world around me. I remember feeling exhausted and alienated at a demonstration when I was about 27 years old there were internecine quarrels about strategy dividing the scene I was part of that hadnt healed, and werent going to. And someone, an older person, referred to me in conversation that day as having responsibilities as an elder in the movement. And I thought, oh my god, this is crazy. Im 27 years old. I dont know anything about how this is supposed to work. I desperately need more skills, experience, and political tools and I crave older mentors who could advise me about all those things, and about how collectively we could get out of this rut were in. But theres no one around that I have that relationship with, and suddenly Im being told Im an elder in the movement? I wanted to cry. I wanted out.
The one person in my life at the time who I respected politically and intellectually and who acted as an important and generous mentor to me was a journalist. So maybe its not a huge surprise that I decided that journalism would be what Id do for the next period of my life. On the one hand, I thought journalism (unlike writing press releases) would allow me to ask questions that would lead to murky but very interesting and instructive political territory beyond what Id held to be ideologically true. And its practice would also allow me to hone a critical practice, and a more dispassionate vantage point from which to learn about social movements across the political spectrum and around the world. I hoped that that would, after many years, allow me to understand more clearly how social change actually works (and why so often it doesnt).
So thats what I do now. I make current affairs documentaries, mostly, about a whole range of issues, in lots of different places. (Ive had the opportunity to make news docs about topics as diverse as the war for drugs in Mexico, the failures of the international community after the 2010 earthquake in Haiti, the ways in which US anti-terrorism policy contributed to the impact of the famine in Somalia, the ways in which inequality and a financial crash in the US gave rise to the Tea Party, and life after Guantanamo for former detainees in Yemen). If I had to describe the kind of journalism I do in a nutshell, Id say that I focus on the policies and practices that make some lives worth less than others and the movements that rise to counter them. The documentaries tend to be more analytical than most things on television, and also to amplify voices less often given a media platform. I hope theyre useful to people who are organizing. But its not the same as organizing thats no longer what I do.
Have your politics and your approaches to social movements changed as youve gotten older?
I dont think that my fundamental politics and values have changed. And I do think that those political convictions tend to motivate the first questions I ask when observing an event and trying to figure out how to explain whats going on. (I believe this to be true of all journalists, no matter their political background. I think our most deep-seated convictions frame the questions we are most likely to ask first.) But I do think that the practice of journalism has demanded that I learn to ask a wider range of questions, and look at things from as many perspectives as possible. Its made me solicit and forced me to try to accurately interpret points of view that deeply unintuitive to me, and sometimes very uncomfortable, in the interest in telling the truth. Inevitably, this has made me less sure of certain things I might have accepted as truths or self-evident before. And I think its given me a more textured and multi-dimensional view of how governance and statecraft function (or fail). Maybe its made me more open to considering a broad range of political expression, strategies, tactics as potentially useful in different contexts, and yet somehow more cynical about any given one as *the* way forward. Which doesnt really matter, since Im observing and interpreting as a journalist, not driving things as a political operative, or making strategic or tactical decisions as a movement organizer, or choosing how to articulate those decisions in agitprop or press releases or speeches.
Also, I think that watching movements rise and fall over and over again makes you a bit of an agnostic about what works and what doesnt, why the cycles happen the way the they do, why so much creativity and effort can sometimes really cause a shift and other times remains subcultural. Also agnostic about basic definitions: what does imperialism mean in the 21st century? What does grassroots mean, say, in the context of the US? I dont have easy answers to these questions, which then impacts how I think about social change.
I think that when learning about and analyzing social movements as a journalist, I tend to take a broader view of things. Maybe its the deferral of judgement the space in which critical questioning thrives or maybe its having had the chance to observe, at least superficially, how things work in many different societies around the world, or maybe its just that as you get older more and more of your peers start having children and spending time fulfilling the range of responsibilities that creates. Or perhaps its just self-justifying. But I find Im much more prone to accepting that there are different phases of life that one devotes to different things, and that a healthy community needs to make space for people in all those different phases, and lasting movements need to acknowledge the different roles that people play and the different contributions they make in different periods of their lives.
How has your life changed? How does that affect how you interact with organizers and/or the movement?
Financially, Im much more stable than I was when I was organizing almost full time, and honestly, that makes it a lot easier to feel mentally, physically and psychologically well. Worrying about being able to pay rent, feeding yourself never mind dependents and struggling to acquire and scrounge together the tools you need to work is tremendously draining. I could write a long treatise on capitalism and creativity.
I think Im still as obsessed with politics as Ive ever been, and as single-minded about whatever project Im working on at a given moment. And I do love politics, which are at the heart of almost every story I tell. I dont have children, and not having them has been a very conscious decision, affording me more flexibility to take physical and financial risks, and be obsessive and single-minded about what I do. (Thats just a personality trait though I think its useful, both as an organizer and as a producer. In both spheres it alienates some people, and attracts others. Im ok with that.)
But as I mentioned above, working as a journalist has meant a separation from the movement a critical separation, in the sense that I no longer contribute to it as an organizer, and to the extent that I cover it or parts of it I do so as an outsider asking the tough critical questions about strategy and accountability I would ask of any movement or group of people. But also a physical separation I have lived in different cities since I stopped organizing, have developed close relationships with colleagues and people outside the movement that are as loyal and fraught as those I maintained with co-organizers for many years.
At times, there has been an intense loneliness to this separation, but also a relief. The movement, as I experienced it in my twenties, was very insular. When I left and started moving toward journalism, separating myself, I was terrified that I would no longer exist, that I would lose any identity I had at that point. And at the same time, one of the interesting things about growing older in this separation is that Ive learned that some of the relationships that were forged in the movement are really amazingly enduring, and those loyalties have, over the years, transcended a range of political choices and weathered the separation. And thats a source of great joy and gratitude.
Do you work in a community of people your age? Or are they mostly younger?
Now I mostly work with people my age, and people 10 to 12 years younger. I really like working with younger people because theyre energetic and enthusiastic about things that Im getting jaded about. Sometimes that causes friction but I think its productive. Also, it makes you realize how stories and political themes/dynamics persist or recur and are rediscovered by new generations of journalists which is both frustrating if youve seen it before and think theres nothing new to learn by exploring the theme again, but also thank god, because actually we do learn new things by investigating stories that have been done before, exploring themes that have been discussed before. I think there are probably parallels there for people organizing in social movement settings.
And because I have a huge debt to the two or three people who have mentored me, I try to be a good mentor to younger journalists I get to work with. I think sometimes I fail single-mindedness, exhaustion, competitiveness all being reasons but I try. Its crucial. I think that relationship is likely different from what you get in horizontal social movements for better or for worse, my relationships with younger people tend to be as their supervisor on projects where Im the journalist with more experience and seniority in a hierarchical newsroom. I try to moderate that when I can, in light of my experience in more horizontal collectives.
I also really like working with younger people because theyre still allowed to feel good about wanting to learn everything. By the time youre my age, youre supposed to have learned all your skills, and be in the process of perfecting them, building retirement savings on the basis of them. But theres still so much I want to learn both technically, and more generally about how the world functions. So working with younger teams or with people my age who are similarly still curious and want to learn new stuff and experiment feels more dynamic. And it keeps me from calcifying.
At the same time, it can be challenging. Sometimes when Im working with new teams, and particularly new teams of younger journalists, I long for the shorthand I have with people Ive worked with for years. That thing where you get new information, and you can figure out what youre going to do about it together with a look, or a few words. You dont need to talk through everything in detail. (I remember feeling this way about tight knit crews of activists I organized with too. ) That level of shared experience can be a real strength in crisis situations, or on a tight deadline it allows you to move fast. And its a real solace when youre doing something difficult, scary or exhausting. At the same time, it can make you insular and lazy, and over time that becomes a weakness for both journalists and outward looking social movements.
Are there communities youve organized with in which people of all ages, and people with and without kids, manage to work together? How do they do it? Why do you think its so hard for so many of us?
The activist scene I grew up in wasnt particularly intergenerational. There were certainly older activists involved in important ways, but they were the exception, and either they didnt have kids, or their kids were grown up. Some people had kids, but I think they often really struggled with how to think about their involvement when they could no longer attend meetings every night of the week and for large chunks of the weekend. Certainly when the movement was organizing with communities beyond itself (yes, even that diction raises a range of questions, doesnt it) things got a lot more intergenerational. There were kids, extended families, meals, contingencies. Things also seemed to get less polarized, ideologically speaking, less petty on a personal level. I think those contingencies force a certain level of pragmatism, for better or for worse.
Why do you think people drop out of activism/organizing?
Ive briefly told my story of leaving activism/organizing to do something else. But people leave for lots of different reasons. Anecdotally speaking and this is by no means supposed to be a comprehensive overview here are a few.
I think that when organizations are heavily repressed, or when campaigns stagnate, or when movements are on the downswing after euphoric moments of convergence, victory or heightened hope (these things seem to go in cycles), activists and organizers tend to turn on each other. Instead of focusing on repressive state apparatuses, exploitative corporations, or systems designed to dispossess, and because they are worn out, they fight over petty things as though they were foundational issues, trade accusations of not being ideologically correct or sufficiently radical, and wage power struggles that are (relatively speaking) beside the point. Ive heard organizers in certain circles referring to this recently as lateral violence, which is a helpful term. These are moments when I think people do exit the movement out of a sense of disillusionment and alienation. The disjunction between the rhetoric of social justice and the petty cruelty with which people can launch accusations in these moments can be hard to overcome when youre already exhausted (or facing charges, or worse). And that same disjunction can throw a range of movement hypocrisies, unaddressed oppressions, tacit discriminations, dishonest glorifications and other shortcomings into stark relief. When the people you thought were your friends turn on you, you start questioning everything theyve told you.
Other people start to feel like theyve outgrown the subcultures associated with certain organizing practices or activist scenes, and it becomes more onerous to remain involved when most of your peer group has moved on. This is most obviously the case with various forms of organizing rooted in student or campus activism.
And still other people end up dropping out because they have children, or because they get jobs that make it difficult (and occasionally impossible) to participate in the way they have in the past. Having small children is time-consuming and shifts most peoples sense of responsibility the risks you take, be they financial or legal, suddenly have significant implications for someone totally dependent on you. I get how thats a huge deal, even though I havent had that experience myself. I also notice that different parents respond to that shifting set of pressures and responsibilities in different ways. Many new parents I know remain actively involved in social movements; not everyone disappears. But I do think that the new time constraints are significant. And I would guess that they impact new parents ability to engage in the kinds of socializing that binds various organizing commitments and activities in many scenes youre not going to go drinking after meetings three nights a week and be at every benefit show if youre responsible for a six month old. I imagine that this would alter ones sense of belonging to various activist scenes I can remember even if one were still able to attend meetings three nights a week.
In every generation, I would guess that as some people leave or become less involved, it poses new challenges for those wanting to remain present and engaged in the movement. Ive talked about all the great things about working with younger people. But there can be difficult things about having the same debates over and over again with new sets of people, and a frustration that develops with mentoring and supporting people until they leave too, in what seems like an inexorable cycle. That can be depressing. Perhaps attrition is contagious.
But I want to stress that I dont think people necessarily drop out of the struggle forever when they decide to do different things. I do know people in their fifties and sixties who, after their kids are no longer totally dependent, or prompted by other events, return to activism and to organizing. Or they begin to be able to contribute the skills and experience theyve developed in other phases and areas of their lives directly to more political work again. I guess Im saying that what can look like dropping out at a certain point in a life can, from a different vantage point, turn out to look more like a departure required in order to return, or even one of many such separations.
Do you think its important for our movements to be intergenerational? If yes, how do you think we should develop intergenerational struggle?
I can imagine very effective militant groups or activist cadres with specific tactical or even strategic purposes that are not intergenerational.But I cant imagine any lasting and successful social movement that isnt intergenerational. On some level, thats tautological. If a social movement lasts, people in it will get older, younger people will join or be born into it
For that to happen, for a social movement to last, for people not to age out of a web of relationships and activities, or a scene, I think there has to be a clear recognition that people have different levels of involvement and ways of contributing at different stages of their lives. Also, a recognition that people can come and go to a certain extent.
I dont think its just an issue of child care during meetings I tend to think its more about how you conceptualize what the movement actually is, what animates it, what nourishes it, how far it extends, and how rigid its boundaries need to be. ∆
Andra Schmidt is a journalist and award-winning producer-director of current affairs documentaries.
www.whatescapes.tumblr.com
@whatescapes