Over the last month hanging around the refugee solidarity occupation in Kangaroo Point, I have been reminded of a fact many activists know from experience: some of the most inspiring and empowering political actions are those which involve claiming and maintaining an area of physical space. Creative occupations, blockade camps, that rally that goes a little bit longer and further than the permit allowed for, that crowd that stays on even after the police come and say the party’s over.
I remember one of my own formative political experiences was a public squat in Redfern that reset my understanding of what was possible. There, an empty building was turned into “The People’s Castle” - where strangers could walk off the street and be welcomed, where we ran a free cafe giving away meals, where conversation was not constrained to the usual banalities of small talk and instead ranged to all kinds of political and cultural possibilities. A transformation of the streetscape and of social interactions which had always seemed like an impossible dream was suddenly a tangible reality. Since then I’ve watched people have the same response to radical social centres, street occupations and forest blockades.
Politics that takes over physical space allows the abstractions of political theory to become lived reality. The way we relate to others, to property, to society’s laws and expectations; becomes suddenly malleable. Given the opportunity to put our energy towards creative visions rather than the dictates of commercial demand, we even begin to see sides of ourselves we hadn’t known before. That breeds its own kind of politics, one far more vivid than words on a page.
It allows us to see familiar surroundings in a new light – the streets, parks and buildings we pass every day are suddenly imbued with new meaning and possibilities. No longer just our passive background, they become the setting for the story we write as we reshape our reality. It enables random meetings, connections and serendipity – the potential for new encounters and collaborations that can shake our reality but are near impossible in a geography dominated by the status quo.
Transforming spaces unmasks the way our lives are so often shaped by external factors – what we think of as normal is revealed as actually a conditioned state dictated by urban design, property laws, government regulation.
Sadly, such political moments are usually temporary in nature. Shut down by police, or dwindling out when everyone has to return to their daily lives. The usual politics of space we experience is one far less liberating – the daily capitalist corral into where we can and can’t be, the strict distinction between public and private, the aesthetics of economics.
Look around you in any public space – never mind transforming it, most of us these days don’t even occupy the space we’re in. Faces glued to screens and headphones shutting us off from our surroundings, we retreat into cyberspace – where many of us probably feel we are more our authentic selves than in the physical realm.
It seems that radical political theory, partly as a result of that process, has grown further and further removed from our physical surroundings. Where traditionally politics attempted to reshape the dynamics of workplaces, neighbourhoods and access to resources; now the emphasis is often on esoteric notions of personal identity, cultural appropriation and performativity. The language is changing - “woke” as a buzzword reflects this. As a political ideal it reflects only a change in consciousness, not in material conditions.
Meanwhile, physical space is more and more colonised by commercial interests. We hang out at the shopping mall, parks are replaced by privately owned “green space”, city squares become commercial marketplaces. This transformation works to shut out any non-commercial purpose. The possibility of the kinds of empowering experiences of space I described earlier becomes ever more unlikely in these circumstances.
To push back against this process requires, like most political aims, a micro and macro vision of change. On the localised level, actions like blockades and creative occupations reshape spaces, allowing a taste of what our selves and society might look like if given a free environment to thrive in. On a broader scale, it means political campaigns concerned with ensuring our physical surroundings are designed to promote human flourishing and not just economics.
A radical politics of space can open up new possibilities, break through the ideological barriers so easily erected online, make alternatives tangible, and germinate new ideas through the day to day experience of trying to live out our ideals.
The occupation at Kangaroo Point Central Apartments over the last month has amply demonstrated this. The remarkable 24-7 presence at the motel has opened up powerful personal connections with those locked inside. The refugees have been unanimous in praising the morale boost that has come from this disruption to the usual demoralisation of arbitrary detention; but it has also allowed a situation where those most affected can be consulted about protest tactics.
It has also allowed all kinds of connections to develop between people taking part in the occupation - young and old; seasoned activists and complete newbies; students, workers and settled refugees. Random passersby can be engaged and encouraged to take part. Supportive neighbours and local businesses have offered tangible support, and the constant action has allowed people to turn up and become actively involved - quickly developing political organising skills that may have taken ages in the more rigidly structured world of formal organisations.
As difficult to measure as these things are, it does seem there has been political success from the occupation. After the initial few, there have been no forced transfers of refugees from the motel, though the fact two people were transferred from hospital this week suggests authorities do still intend to move detainees. Just the fact of the blockade’s presence has been a reminder to media and public of the usually hidden reality of our inhumane treatment of refugees; and simultaneously a reminder of the possibility and reality of resistance to it.
The occupation has also shown that this kind of political action requires creativity and imagination; invariably confrontation with the powers who control our spaces; and the acceptance of the unpredictability that comes with sharing space with others. It has been a challenge to those allies attached to the more traditional ways of doing protest and lobbying.
It may seem an obvious thing to say, but all of us at all times exist in a physical location. These tactile places are inevitably shaped by this ethereal thing we call politics. But at the same time, those locations we inhabit shape our political understanding and imagination. To change either means acknowledging and engaging with how the two are interlinked; incarnating a politics of space.
Andy Paine is a writer, musician, radio broadcaster and activist currently based in Brisbane.