“The fundamental question of the revolution is not one of making more commodities available to people.”– Joseph Edwards (aka Fundi, the “Caribbean Situationist”) 

“The revolution will not go better with Coke / The revolution will not fight germs that may cause bad breath”– Gil Scott-Heron

When Minneapolis police officer Derek Chauvin publicly executed George Floyd in May 2020, the world seemed to take notice. Years of rage surrounding regular police killings in the U.S. turned into a spring of rebellions and protests across the globe. Black Lives Matter signs and murals began to appear in many places, liberal politicians donned kente cloth, and corporations started implementing more policies around diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI). 

The recent backlash has exposed that response as a counterinsurgent tactic to pacify uprisings, much like the promises of change leading up to the 2020 election. As fascism fortifies itself to the tune of a rogue presidency sponsored by oligarchs dismantling the administrative state, companies are no longer pretending to care about being inclusive. The corporate abandonment of internal DEI policies has led to consumer boycotts and resentment, with people recognizing their identities as a rejected marketing ploy. However, the more profound political question is whether we want inclusion or autonomy.

Companies and institutions cutting their DEI initiatives is old racism under a new moniker. Centering DEI gives credence to the idea that white anger here is a concern about a supposedly unfair policy and not just overt racism. DEI, like “wokeness” and critical race theory, became an empty catch-all the fascist far-right used to say something while saying nothing at all. For undereducated and reactionary groups of people, this works well to mask a lack of consistency and the overabundance of contradiction. The Ku Klux Klan and neo-Nazis, like David Duke, used talking points about “minority quotas” and affirmative action policies just the same in recent decades. The rhetoric is relatively old; only the times and environment in which it’s unfolding are new. The irony of acting like inclusion is racism against white people is further exposed by who has benefitted from the policies that threatened bigots are denouncing. 

White women have historically been among the primary beneficiaries of affirmative action policies while also being the policy’s most outspoken critics. Similarly, data reveals that “white people occupy more executive-level DEI roles compared to other racial groups.”  An analysis of chief diversity officer (CDO) positions showed that “white candidates are hired for the lion’s share of these roles.” The nature of it all shows that even what’s supposedly meant to address the problems of institutional racism is often illusory in many respects. 

Before you demand a seat at the table, you should first ask if it’s a table worth being at in the first place. Let’s not pull up chairs at dinner parties that need to be destroyed.

The ease with which corporations shredded their DEI policies is why it’s important to note the fundamental differences between fighting to be included and fighting for autonomy and self-determination. Diversifying oppressive structures and seeking equity within corporatocracy is as limited as trying to do the same within representative governance. Before you demand a seat at the table, you should first ask if it’s a table worth being at in the first place. Let’s not pull up chairs at dinner parties that need to be destroyed. Unfortunately, that’s the standard response for a public hypnotized into thinking they have a collective stake in capitalism. 

The oversimplification and sanitization of the civil rights movement also have much to do with this. State-sponsored historical narratives translated in schools, museums, and political arenas have reduced multipronged struggles to nothing more than a fight to “melt and integrate,” to quote the late poet Gil Scott-Heron. This problem over-represents the integrationist wings of the civil rights movement and downplays a dynamic revolutionary period. It shrinks it to a moment in time where Black people are portrayed as entirely satiated by an unguaranteed right to vote, more institutional racial representation, and, of course, the ability to spend money equally among white consumers in previously inaccessible spaces. What’s interesting here is that oftentimes, Black elders also describe the pre-integration of Black America as having had aspects of self-sufficiency that were drastically reduced after integration. If this were the case, this moment should feel especially peculiar as some Black consumers weigh in on different strategies to confront corporate rejection. 

One thing that’s true of the integrationist factions of the civil rights movement is that they were not above class interests. For some, seeking equal standing and incorporation into exclusively white establishments was a desire to accumulate. The late Robert L. Allen once wrote, “After desegregation laws were passed, more affluent blacks could dine at downtown restaurants or take in shows at previously segregated theaters. Those who had the money and the stomach for a fight could even buy homes in formerly all-white suburbs. In its heyday the integrationist civil rights movement cast an aura which encompassed nearly the whole of the black population, but the bourgeoisie was the primary beneficiary of that movement.” Other Black scholars like Harold Cruse also offered similar criticisms in the late ’60s. For Allen, a critical aspect of all this was the subterfuge of Black capitalism as a counter to Black Power. 

President Richard Nixon once denounced “Black extremism” by suggesting his “constructive” interpretation of what Black Power meant. Allen recalls a Nixon broadcast where he stated: “It’s no longer enough that white-owned enterprises employ greater numbers of Negroes, whether as laborers or as middle-management personnel. This is needed, yes—but it has to be accompanied by an expansion of black ownership, of black capitalism.” Fast forward decades later to this time when Black consumers are responding to rejection with “buy-cotts.” While it may be true that Black people have moved our money elsewhere to make a point historically, much is different now. 

Just a handful of companies control almost all of the products in the stores we visit. Much like U.S. politics, shopping itself is an illusion of choice. Whether you’re at the polls or the grocery store, the ruling class has monopolized the goods, services, and systems we partake in daily. The environmental costs of problems like food waste, fast fashion, and industrial pollution threaten the future of us all. Therefore, when confronted by several disturbing realities, it feels incredibly detached not to act out an actual revolutionary position. Just like simply choosing another candidate isn’t the answer to disempowering political arenas, neither is merely selecting another place to shop. 

What is autonomy? What is self-management? In essence, this essay suggests building bottom-up responses, instead of always looking to the top for rescue. Owning our principled responsibility is the core of self-governing, stateless socialism from below and radical self-management politics that call for people to take control collectively. The emphasis on self doesn’t mean self-centeredness; it means recognizing our roles as individuals in a larger body. We can’t hope for the problem creators to solve our problems when our labor makes this society function. That’s our power not just to make a different choice, but instead make a different future. 

Whether it’s the general strike, tax boycotts, or industrial sabotage, there’s a rich history of how to shut things down when they’re working against us. Jamaican labor activist and refrigerator mechanic Joseph Edwards (also known as Fundi the “Caribbean Situationist”) made the stakes of self-management plain. He wrote, “Self-management is what the revolution is all about. The struggle being waged by the masses of people to gain direct control over all areas of social life—the absence of which is responsible for their poverty, oppression, and alienation—this struggle is the struggle for self-management.” 

We’re not talking about deferring to existing authorities or their exploitative tools in a quest to receive better treatment. We’re also not talking about running toward co-optable means or methods. Instead, this is about what someone like Black anarchist Lorenzo Kom’boa Ervin might express as a key component of building autonomy: ungovernability. This is the work to decrease dependence, not move it elsewhere and call it a win. We can’t keep running to seek out safety in political representation, the nation-state, corporations, and capital, instead of ourselves. Our blood is worth too much to be wasted, materializing avoidable reminders of what was built to serve us and what was built to serve those who rule over us. 

Editorial Team:
Lara Witt, Lead Editor
Carolyn Copeland, Top Editor
Rashmee Kumar, Copy Editor