Démocratie Réelle Maintenant des Indignés de Nîmes

Waregem, October 5

Day 72 of the March on Brussels. From Kortrijk, 17 km.

Dear people,

When we showed up on the central square of Kortrijk yesterday, the authorities were completely taken by surprise. After a while  a police car came up, a big friendly looking officer stepped out, he walked up to us and started to ask, in his best French, who we were, where we came from, what we were doing here etc. He was visibly relieved when I responded to him in Dutch.

For lack of a good equivalent word I told him we are “les indignés”.

“How do you spell that?”

I spelled it out, without forgetting the accent. He had never even heard of us. So I gave him a very short history of the movement and I told him we planned to camp and to speak to people about local problems and the problems of society. “Tomorrow we leave. We will go to Brussels.”

He scratched himself under his cap and said: “Sure, I can appreciate that, but all the same it’s not possible to camp here. I will have to contact the municipality to find a solution for you.”

“Very well, but I can’t guarantee that we will accept it. We are a horizontal movement, and we will decide in assembly what to do.”

Minutes later the mayor showed up in person. When he heard our discourse about participative democracy he went into ‘campaigning mode’, and he affirmed that his administration was very active in inviting people from the neighbourhoods to participate in politics. I don’t think he really understood that our concept of participation is slightly different from his own.

Still, in no time we were offered a space, with showers and coverage in case of rain, outside of the center. Camping on the square remained strictly forbidden. We would risk jail time.

Surprisingly, it didn’t take long for the assembly to reach a decision. People didn’t want to risk. They accepted. So off we went. Our first night in Belgium. We didn’t even hold a Popular Assembly, also because at night fall the streets were deserted.

This morning, many people stayed around to work or to do some propaganda in the square. This is a very rich part of Belgium, but as I heard, people seemed to be interested and open minded. Unfortunately, we hadn’t prepared any flyers in Dutch. This is my fault, I admit it. We only had flyers in French. When they were handed out, people lost interest on the spot. Welcome to Flanders.

Unlike many others I walked early, together with comrade Infiltrado. He is not really an informant, but he got the fame to be one, and it stuck. The walk was short, only a couple of hours under the wide grey skies of the North, partly along a river. I’ve never been here before, but it feels like I lived here all my life.

In the small town of Waregem the news about the arrival of our march had already reached the authorities. I must say I was flabbergasted, almost embarassed. In general the people of the hot southern and eastern countries have the reputation of being very hospitable to strangers, as opposed to the countries of the North. This doesn’t go for Waregem. The town council offered us a space in the center, next to the football stadium, with all possible facilities, they invited us to hold an assembly or a concert or whatever in any square of our choice. They sent the police to our camp, not in riot gear, not to threaten us or to evict us or to gas us, no, they sent them to bring us food. A present from the town of Waregem.

'Popular Assembly' in Waregem

It didn’t really matter at that point that our assembly in the empty central square was visited by very few locals. One, to be exact. But it was typical that that one person, an ex-construction worker who was rebuilding a former conference room, offered anybody who suffers the cold to camp indoor. “I have enough space for the entire group. All of you are invited.”

Kortrijk, October 4

Day 71 of the March on Brussels. From Rijsel, 29 km

Dear people,

At Arras a shadow march was born, the so called ‘super indignados’, consisting of people who are angry with the indignados for various reasons. In the beginning there were three, Alexis and two other comrades. Yesterday we met them again in Lille, and by now their march is numbering nine participants already. I’m curious to see how many they will be in Brussels.

Comrade Canario

The Intelligence commission in Tourcoign

While we walk through the metropolitan area of Lille, comrade Roberto, my partner in Intelligence, reveals his true objective. I could have guessed what it was, but it is so obvious that I never considered it. As an ex-banker, an ex-stockbroker, and an ex-choirboy, he has infiltrated in the 15M movement to reestablish capitalism under the enlightened guidance of the pope.

“And that is only the beginning”, he says. “We will create a New World Order.” He turns around. The group follows in the distance. “Look at these people. Do you think they will make a change? Do you really believe in the revolution?” He smiles. “Come with me to the Dark Side.”

I don’t answer, I watch him, as if to say: ‘Go on.’

“As long as you leave them the illusion that they are free, it’s easy to forge people’s minds. That is what we do.”

“Who is we?”

“We are the one percent. We are the Patriarchate.”

I remember a banner that was attached to one of the metro entrances during the Acampada in Sol. ‘The Revolution will be feminist,’ it said, ‘or it will not be.’

“Before the advent of civilization”, Roberto explains, “society used to be administered by women. People were equal, and they were free. It must have been incredibly boring, and thankfully, we changed all that. First through the sword, and later through the church.” He looks at me. “Don’t you think it’s amazing that the church has managed to transform the image of woman from a reveared and honoured symbol of fertility to one of chastity and submission?”

“I’m not that enthustiastic about it.”

“Think about the implications. Once people subdue their women, they will be able to subdue mother earth as well. There are no limits to the human potential for us to exploit.”

“But what is the reason?”

“Power doesn’t need reasons. It only needs to grow.” I see a twinkle in his eyes. “We will create new humans. We will use technology. We are already doing so. In the near future man will be unable to rebel against us. We will have him consume the planet and we will force him to find ways to emigrate to other planets. Our power will spread through the universe. We will consume it all, and we will leave a desert. The Dark Side is too strong. You can’t stop us.”

At first sight Roberto seems to be a perfectly normal person. He must be joking. But the fact is that I’m not completely sure about it. To avoid the temptation of the Dark Side, I walk ahead.

Towards the border

We arrive at the border. I can’t believe it. Six weeks ago we entered France, and now we crossed it all on foot. Even though the only ones who walked every single leg of the way were Jesus Christ and me.

Belgium at last. It’s a ridiculous country and I will never understand it, but I’m fond of it. For a Dutchman, Belgium has something ‘exotic’. It’s slightly different. People come from a catholic tradition, they have a funny accent, and in the South they even speak another language. There is some nature as well, hills and forests, things that an artificial country like Holland doesn’t really have. On the other hand, for a Dutchman abroad, Belgium feels very familiar. It’s the combination of the two that makes it such an adorable place.

Crossing a border gives you a lot of energy. It’s like you accomplished something. You don’t worry that much about all the practical and social problems in the march any more. You put them into perspective. I did the same yesterday in Lille, when two young locals came up to me to express their admiration for what we’re doing. “We are with you. Remember that.”

They are by far not the only ones who said so. It’s always good to hear. It makes me realise that our march is much more than just a group of people walking.

Arrival in Kortrijk

Arras, October 1

Day 68 of the March on Brussels. From Acheux, 31 km.

Acampada Arras

Dear people,

Every march has its own spirit. It’s there in the beginning, with the people who start the march, and even though the participants might change, the spirit usually remains.

If the march is chaos in the first few days, it will probably stay that way. You can talk and talk, you can draw up perfect organisational schemes every now and then, but in practice they won’t work.

Our march is far from perfect. We are strong, we have lots of people walking, but we didn’t really try to integrate the people who joined us in Paris, just like we never really appreciated the experiences of the people from the Toulouse march. We are operating the same way we did when we entered France.

By now, it’s too late to try and change things. In a week we will already be in Brussels. Nevertheless we held an internal assembly yesterday, which was centered around the issue of convivencia.

This morning

Our march has known all the problems of society. Theft, violence, polarisation, conflict, free riding, anti-social behaviour, lying, threats, etc. The way to deal with this has been mostly to look the other way, and to talk about it behind people’s backs.

Yesterday, all these problems were to be discussed in public. At the beginning of the assembly, people who felt like they had something to confess where asked to speak up.

Complete silence. A bunch of angels. All of us. Except for one, our Greek comrade Marianne. She has been part of various commissions and working groups, most notably Communication. She admitted that she could have done more than she did. She’s so sweet.

After Marianne, all the others didn’t talk to confess something, but to self glorify themselves and accuse the others of lack of dedication. They didn’t dare to use names. After all we are decent and understanding, we only accuse in general, everyone knows whom people are talking about.

It was disgusting. For a moment I considered to propose that we declare our march a failure and that we all go home. Goodbye Brussels.

I didn’t do it of course. I went to my tent, and I heard the rest from there.

In yesterday’s assembly, our (ex-)comrade Felix was present. He had come to salute us, and he had come alone. People must have been very relieved, because instead of talking about ourselves and our sins, we could turn on him.

His drinking vices, the money, the story about the secession, it all came out again. The discussion about our internal social problems turned into a revolutionary tribunal, a show trial. A hand full of people led the attack, and the others followed. Many of those people had never even seen or heard about Felix and the Pretorians before, but now they were yelling at the top of their voices for him to be expelled and crucified. It was the beast that hides in every mass of people. It was the spectre of the forks and the torches.

Felix didn’t enjoy any of the guarantees that a fair justice system should offer. Presumption of innocence, the right to defense, etc. We definitely need to work on this before we change the world.

As a movement we are open and inclusive. We have never expelled anyone before, even though we should have. This time the wolves were crying blood, so once the accusation had stated its case and silenced the defendant, the moderator proposed the verdict.

Propositions in our movement are always formulated in a negative sense. Not ‘Who is in favour of…?’, but ‘Is anyone radically against…?’

Felix was saved, because two persons blocked the verdict. They argued indeed that as a movement we shouldn’t expel people but always try to resolve our problems internally. The funny thing is that the ones who blocked were not even a part of our march. They were bikers from the Mediterranean, and this morning they went away again.

Their intervention could have had grave consequences. Because when Felix was allowed to stay, comrade Charlie decided to leave, together with his van. It would have meant we had to carry our stuff, and the kitchen, on our shoulders.

There was a cheer when he reappeared this morning. It turned out that yesterday’s trial had been completely superfluous. Felix never intended to stay in the first place. He was already gone when people woke up. So we had our breakfast, we left our bags next to the van and started walking as if nothing had happened.

Popular Assembly in Arras