It’s uncanny at first. Being back after a year. All that has happened. I’ve never known these people really, yet there here I am again on the Beursplein Amsterdam, watching familiar faces. Protest against the bankers’ gamble; the revolution’s still alive.
The main critique by Dutch media on Occupy Beursplein, October 15th 2011, was that there was no uniform message. As a graduated student of social sciences and ecology, still up to date with literature, I would like to contest that as followed:
It’s the first fucking global demonstration in known history of mankind, what the hell did you expect?
Gilles 2012, glad that that’s finally out.
Do you know how rhizomes work? They’re a network of strings in the soil belonging to a certain fungus. Rhizomes are always there, interconnected, very hard to see with the bare eye. But when the ground is moist and the air is dark, when the circumstances are perfect, a little mushroom pops up. It leaves as quickly as it’s arrived.
We start making noise. Pots, pans, barrels, I have my drum. The chaos at first leaves me to my thoughts. Once again, there are about as many cameras as there are demonstrants. Are we here to be seen? Does the lens change our behaviour? The questions an ego asks meanwhile.
We go on making noise. As the rhythm changes, becomes coherent, I remember the harmony we felt last year. It turns back to chaos. A different rhythm emerges. No leaders, no followers, an organic mass. Soon, we’ll march. The world will march. And then we’ll vanish again. Patiently slumbering in your back yard.