CHAPTER 11
Actions & Tactics
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“It is not the oppressed who determine the means of resistance, but the oppressor.”
—Nelson Mandela

STOP HUNTINGDON ANIMAL CRUELTY

England, 1999. A new campaign against animal abuse and vivisection forms; it will spawn thousands of militant actions, drive a corporation to its knees, and put thirteen activists in prison. That campaign is Stop Huntingdon Animal Cruelty (SHAC).

Their target company is Huntingdon Life Sciences (HLS). HLS has been a target of anti-animal-abuse campaigns for a decade. HLS performs animal testing on behalf of other companies including manufacturers of industrial chemicals, pesticides, cosmetics, cleaning products, and pharmaceuticals. HLS specializes in animal testing and vivisection (the dissection of animals while they are still alive). Animal rights activists recently smuggled undercover videos out of HLS; the leaked video shows mistreatment of animals that goes far beyond “science” as employees punch and beat the animals being experimented on.

PETA and others have led a public campaign against HLS, but legal threats cause PETA to back down. In response, grassroots organizers form a new campaign with a potent new strategy.

SHAC organizers understand that HLS is not susceptible to moral suasion or even public embarrassment. Their customers are other companies, not members of the public. Nor is HLS vulnerable to direct disruption or coercion; activists lack the political force that would be required to shut them down directly.

But HLS does not do business in isolation. HLS has suppliers, shareholders, business partners. For SHAC strategists, these parties are the targets. The political force SHAC can wield is much more potent against these secondary targets. Less disruption will be required to induce those targets to stop doing business with HLS.

It’s a bold and creative strategy. But its scope is ambitious: there are thousands, tens of thousands of potential secondary and tertiary targets for the campaign to target. This campaign will require decentralized execution: the involvement of many different local groups, working around the world to disrupt and pressure those targets. It will also require careful planning by the central body, intelligence gathering and intensive analysis of possible targets, and distribution of information about those targets to grassroots groups around the world.

The heart of SHAC is a small group of dedicated organizers who focus heavily on intelligence and communication. “Before announcing a company as a target, careful research is carried out. A picture of the company is built up, copies of their annual reports obtained, lists of subsidiaries, offices, research and manufacturing sites drawn up. Its activities and their weaknesses are identified.”273

Those core organizers are surrounded by a few hundred loosely affiliated activists who plan and carry out their own actions independently. They use a diversity of tactics to disrupt and harass their targets. Mostly these tactics include warning letters to shareholders, public education, office disruptions, civil disobedience, some property destruction, and demonstrations at the homes of executives or contractors. The core body then reports on the actions; these reports keep up the morale of activists, allow autonomous groups to copy tactics that work, and inspire new creative acts.

In 2000, SHAC publishes a list of HLS shareholders and stages demonstrations. Shareholders begin to sell off their stock; soon, tens of millions of shares are put up for a penny each. After its share value plummets, HLS is forced off the New York Stock Exchange and loses its main listing on the London Stock Exchange.274

The campaign gains steam and accumulates victories. The list of companies driven away from HLS is truly extensive, and soon numbers in the hundreds. Some of these are small companies and contractors, but others are big names: Xerox, Aramark, BDO International, Citibank, Securicor, TD Waterhouse.275

SHAC’s success will cost organizers dearly. Both Britain and the United States create entirely new legislation, tailor-made to attack groups like SHAC, at the behest of big business. In Britain this is the Serious Organised Crime and Police Act, passed in 2005; in the United States the infamous Animal Enterprise Terrorism Act of 2006. These new laws take advantage of the post-9/11 frenzy to put various kinds of effective activism under the umbrella of terrorism. (HLS is also bailed out by the British government to keep it from going bankrupt.)

Under these new laws many organizers are charged, with prosecutors alleging links to the Animal Liberation Front and other militant underground groups. More than a dozen people end up serving time in prison. But the campaign is able to continue, because when one person is arrested others step forward to take their place.

Despite this repression, SHAC continues and accomplishes much of what its original organizers set out to do. Their victories come from creativity, drive, and an adherence to the strategic and tactical principles that make resistance struggles successful.

■    ■    ■

Action is the ultimate purpose of a resistance movement. Effective actions—effective tactics—emerge from communities of resistance and require the supporting capacities described in the preceding chapters.

These final two chapters are a pair. This chapter deals with tactics, the most detailed level of conflict, which includes planning and carrying out particular actions or engagements. Strategy deals with the bigger picture, such as planning and carrying out campaigns. (The intermediate level of operations deals with things in between. On an even larger scale, grand strategy would deal with entire liberation movements over the long term, and with their ultimate goals.)

Strategy and tactics are part of the same continuum, and neither can be discussed in isolation. Tactics can only be evaluated in the context of a good strategy. And strategies are based on the tactics available. So I’ll jump back and forth a bit over these final two chapters.

STRATEGIC AND TACTICAL PRINCIPLES

As a young activist, I was never taught strategy. I was taught some techniques and tactics—how to write a press release, how to hold a blockade, how to treat pepper spray injuries—but mostly I was taught political analysis. That is, what was wrong with the economic and political systems of the status quo.

These things are important. But teaching someone what is wrong with the world without teaching them how to change it can backfire. A torrent of information about atrocities and destruction—without a counterbalancing stream of strategy and organizing ideas—can be a profoundly depressing, disempowering, and demobilizing experience.

We need to study, practice, and teach strategy. Resistance strategy starts from the knowledge that those in power have more resources—guns, tanks, television stations, riot cops—than the resistance movements that fight them. In a pitched battle, those in power almost always win. Resistance movements succeed by being smart, by engaging their enemy when and where the resisters will win.

They do this by following strategic and tactical principles developed over thousands of years in conflicts ranging from guerrilla wars to wildcat strikes to civil disobedience campaigns. Those principles are studied by military officers and guerrilla commanders, because when those people don’t follow good strategy the results are immediate, obvious, and often bloody. But too many modern social movements have forgotten about these principles—or never learned them—because they are based on lobbying instead of disruption, and because they don’t expect to win.

These principles have been articulated by Sun Tzu and Clausewitz, by Russian Partisans and Latin American guerrillas, by nonviolent action trainers, military theorists, and students of revolution.276

Here I’ve condensed these strategic and tactical patterns down to eleven principles for direct action and disruption. Not all of these are used in every conflict or every struggle. But a successful resistance movement will use many of them, and a few extremely well.

It’s not a universal checklist, but a set of recurring patterns that help resistance movements win their battles so that they can win their campaigns. And when a resistance movement fails, you will often see that they have failed to apply these principles.

Let’s start with principle number one:

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Resisters take action with clear and attainable objectives in mind. Ideally their objective is decisive (but it may also be shaping or sustaining). This goal motivates members; it also informs the structure of a movement, its strategy, and its tactics.

If an objective is clear, resisters can look back after an action and assess whether they made progress. SHAC had a clear, attainable, and decisive objective: to drive business away from HLS. The ANC wanted to make South Africa ungovernable under apartheid. Dozens of anti-colonial and anti-occupation movements have had the clear goal of driving out occupiers and achieving autonomy.

What are the immediate reasons for a resistance movement to take action? There are many possible goals. Military strategists distinguish between three different kinds of operations. Decisive operations directly accomplish the end goal (or part of it). Shaping operations change the conditions of struggle to make victory more likely (helping to accomplish the end goals indirectly). And last, sustaining operations support the decisive and shaping actions.

For a guerrilla group in Nazi-occupied Europe, decisive operations could mean assassinating Nazi officers. Shaping operations might include distributing underground newspapers or gathering intelligence. Sustaining operations might mean raiding a guard post for ammunition, or arranging a supply drop from a friendly power.

For a civil rights group like the Deacons for Defense, decisive operations might include using sit-ins to desegregate a public building. Shaping operations might include armed patrols of Black neighborhoods to deter the KKK, or joint operations with allies like the Congress of Racial Equality. And sustaining operations might mean fundraising or setting up a house to use as headquarters for a campaign.

Every resistance action needs a clear tactical objective that will advance the overall strategy. Clear reasons for action include:

A good tactic may accomplish several of the above points. Again, direct actions in the SHAC campaign illustrate this point. Yes, some actions were decisive. But deterrence was crucial, and deterrence required wide communication. Every new action was also an experiment, an expression of solidarity with other people in the campaign, and a way of communicating a message.

As the Ruckus Society, writing about direct action, says: “remember one thing: almost all successful actions occur within the context of an ongoing campaign. This means that political—not only logistical—work has been done before the action.”282

The Wobblies often fused many different goals when employing a single tactic. Their strikes were forms of direct action that combined recruitment with deterrence and solidarity. The Wobblies also engaged in a series of “free-speech fights” where IWW organizers asserted their right to speak for and organize unions. Local police in any given town would often try to stop radical unionists from organizing; if a Wobbly was arrested speaking on a street corner, the union would call for others to take their place. Radicals would flood into the town in question; they’d show up at the same street corner, and someone else would stand up to speak about the importance of the union. They’d be arrested; someone else would take their place, and preach on the evils of capitalism. Then that person would be arrested, and another Wobbly would stand up to talk about solidarity. And then they’d be arrested and so on. Eventually the jails would fill up and the arrested IWW members would cause such a ruckus in prison that the police would have no choice but to release them and to let people speak and organize as they pleased. The free-speech fights combined direct action, deterrence, defiance, and recruitment.

There is sometimes a debate among activists between whether or not actions should be “symbolic.” I think that the history of resistance shows that direct action—decisive action—should be a priority wherever possible. But it’s also true that most actions have a symbolic component; they communicate a message to someone, whether it is solidarity to comrades, a warning to those in power, or encouragement to defiance in general.

Indeed, ideally an action is constructed so that all possible outcomes will achieve some of the strategic objectives and move the strategy forward. Let me use an example from the Deacons for Defense. Say the Deacons were planning a sit-in action to desegregate a government building (as they did at Jonesboro library in December 1964).

The Deacons had several operational objectives that they could advance through a sit-in:

Decisive Objectives

Shaping Objectives

Sustaining Objectives

There are several possible outcomes. The local powers could concede immediately, thus giving the Deacons a decisive victory (and a boost for their shaping and sustaining objectives). Such successes immediately pave the way for more action.

Alternately, the group could be attacked by police or vigilantes with violence.283 This would stop them from meeting their decisive objective at that time, but still advance other goals. Attempts at repression, borne by the Deacons, would raise their profile and support in the community (as was the case in the Alton Crowe shooting back in chapter 2). Repression and polarization might also help force “neutral” community leaders such as teachers or ministers to choose to support the Deacons (as many eventually did) or to side against the activists and be shamed by their own communities.

Each of these outcomes would lead to progress on some front. The most dangerous act would have been for people to do nothing.

Finding a balance between goals that are attainable in the short term and strategically meaningful in the long term is not always easy. But a failure to find this balance can cause a group to collapse. Edward Ericson, writing about university radicals in the 1960s, explains:

Stripped of rhetorical display, virtually every specific proposal emanating from the radicals proved capable of being absorbed by liberal reformism. So great was the fear of co-optation that radicals were frequently immobilized by the prospect that some of their ideas might be accepted and implemented by the establishment without the concomitant adoption of the total world view out of which their specific suggestions emanate. . . .

The net result of this fear was that radicals sought to insure that their proposals were of such a nature that they could not be co-opted—or adopted at all. They became grotesquely unrealistic. Rather than providing serious alternatives, they supplied only vehicles for the negative critiques which made up the actual substance of new radicalism. That also cut the radicals off from the satisfaction of short-range achievements, a satisfaction they desperately needed to maintain morale and momentum. Deprived of the possibility of success, radicals either dropped out of activism in despair or turned their energies upon each other. The fear of co-optation forced them into a vicious circle from which there was no escape.284

Classic manifestations of a culture of defeat.

In the War Resisters League training manual, Ed Hedemann writes: “Long range goals are easy, e.g., world peace or no military. But sometimes if short range goals are not clearly defined, then the campaign could be stalled. Short range goals should be winnable within the near future (providing a boost and the encouragement needed to keep your group moving toward the longer range goals), measurable (you ought to be able to tell when you have accomplished them), set on a timetable to allow for periods of evaluation, [and] be a significant step towards the long range goal(s).”285

Charles Dobson suggests that “a small group should pursue only one objective at a time. A new group should begin with a short-term project with a high probability of success.”286 For choosing short-term goals, some organizations use the mnemonic SMART; goals should be specific, measureable, attainable, rewarding, and timely. This is a good approach for both short- and medium-term goals.

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US General Eric Shinseki writes: “Warfighting, and by extension less violent actions, depends on a few ‘rules of thumb.’ First, we win on the offense; we must be able to defend well, but you win on the offense. Next, we want to initiate combat on our terms—at a time, in a place, and with a method of our own choosing—not our adversary’s, our choosing. Third, we want to gain the initiative and retain it—never surrender it if possible. Forth, we want to build momentum quickly, and finally, we want to win—decisively.”287

You don’t win by sitting around and letting the opposition do whatever they want. You can’t win by letting the enemy attack you whenever it is most convenient and advantageous to them. Success requires going on the offensive.

SHAC was very good at this, as Rolling Thunder explains: “In contrast to most current organizing strategies, the SHAC model is an offensive approach. It offers a means of attacking and defeating established capitalist projects—of taking the initiative rather than simply responding to the advance of corporate power. SHAC did not set out to block the construction of a new animal testing facility or the passage of new legislation, but to defeat and destroy an animal testing corporation that had existed for decades.”

Greek anarchist Panagiotis Papadimitropoulos explains that the same principle—the idea of attack as a priority—has been at work in Greek uprisings. “Practically this means that the police . . . should not be the ones who attack first. On the contrary it is the anarchists who retain the momentum” and select the time and place of engagement.288

Indeed, every successful campaign in this book has gone on the offensive in some way, has seized the initiative, has forced those in power to play catch-up. The Freedom Rides absolutely took the initiative in a way that the Southern establishment did not expect and was unprepared for. So did the PAIGC, so did the ANC and the original IRA. So did the militants at Stonewall when they decided to fight back and to riot. So did the people of Grassy Narrows when they stopped asking and started blockading. So did the saboteurs of the Elaho Valley when the stationary tree-sits were taken down, and clandestine attack became the only viable way of stopping the logging.

You can make a campaign work without some of the principles in this chapter, but I don’t think you can win without initiative. Gene Sharp argues: “For achieving effective nonviolent struggles it is important that the resisters both seize the initiative at the beginning and also maintain it throughout the conflict. The resisters must not permit themselves to be relegated to the role of primarily reacting to the actions of their opponents.”289

Stan Goff concludes: “The great guerrilla leaders have shown that initiative is the key. When you have it, you are ahead, and when you lose it, you are behind. . . . Warfare is a temporal process. Time matters. Speed matters. Getting inside your enemy’s decision-making cycle and seizing the initiative matters. Taking the offensive matters. There is no due process. There are no time-outs. And there is no perfection.”290

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Scattered, isolated forces are easily overwhelmed and defeated. Effective resisters concentrate their efforts so that they will have overwhelming force where it matters. They focus on the points of greatest leverage, where their actions will have the most impact. Where the resisters are strong and where those in power are not; where resisters have superior force or odds.

Saboteurs at the Elaho Valley knew this well. They didn’t walk up to the headquarters of Interfor to start a fistfight with a security guard. They watched, and waited, and went quickly and quietly to poorly guarded sites to destroy equipment with minimal risk. One of the most decisive Indigenous military victories—the battle at Little Bighorn—occurred when the arrogant General Custer and his cavalry were outnumbered and obliterated by Crazy Horse and several thousand Lakota, Cheyenne, and Arapaho warriors. It was among the US military’s most devastating battles in history.

Irish resisters learned this principle the hard way after the Easter Rising; they concentrated their forces to occupy government buildings, but they did it in a way that sacrificed their mobility and flexibility and that committed them to long-duration action. So they soon found themselves outmatched by a superior force. Only when they switched their approach—to isolate and attack smaller targets with their own overwhelming force—did the tide of conflict shift in their favor.

Resisters in occupied Europe trained by the SOE were taught always to plan their escape route from an action first, and to only stage an attack when they were almost totally certain they could pull it off successfully. Small resistance movements are too weak—and their morale too brittle—to squander resources and lives in attacks with low odds for success.

The concentration of force was also where SHAC’s strategy really shone. SHAC understood that they couldn’t generate the amount of political force necessary to shut down HLS directly. So they chose secondary targets where they could apply superior force, where they knew they were likely to win.

Effective tactics offer a good return on investment. The tactics used by SHAC were not expensive; they required a lot of time from some people, but they didn’t demand any special equipment or investments. Spray-paint and fliers are cheap. But SHAC cost HLS and its associates many millions of dollars. The ANC was similarly low-tech in its attacks on apartheid, and many others have followed in this tradition.

An especially effective example was a set of simultaneous natural gas pipeline bombings in Mexico in September of 2007.291 Staged by a small Marxist group called Ejército Popular Revolucionario, the bombings injured no one but caused massive economic disruption and factory shutdowns. John Robb writes: “Network effects turned a $2,000 attack into $2.5 billion in damages. It was so effective, the group did exactly the same thing a month later. Nobody was caught.”292

The principle of superior odds is most visible when it is not followed. Political dissidents too often fight on the enemy’s terrain by their rules. Parliamentary requests, courts, and official grievance processes are all designed so that dissidents have the odds stacked against them. (Recall how authorities were able to take the steam out of Depression-era poor people’s movements by routing defiant disruption into formal grievance processes.)

Target Selection Factors

There are five key target selection criteria used to assess and prioritize potential targets: accessibility, vulnerability, recuperability, criticality, and threat. These factors come from the military, but they transfer well to nonviolent struggle or to any campaign of disruption or confrontation, whether a group is using sabotage or mass sit-ins.

Accessibility. How easy is it to get to the target? Accessible targets can be reached with a minimum of trouble and fuss (like a ground floor office downtown in a major city). Inaccessible targets require more resources and planning; perhaps a remote mining site, or a fortified school for mercenaries.

Vulnerability. How easy is it to disrupt the target? Highly vulnerable targets are easy to disrupt, the way that a railway spur line could be blocked by parking a vehicle across it, or an open public relations event shut down by belligerent protesters. Targets with low vulnerability—like a concrete bunker or a closed conference ringed with riot police—are tougher to disrupt.

Recuperability. How quickly can those in power repair the target or restore it to normal functioning? A broken window or blown circuit breaker is fast to repair: high recuperability. A very expensive or rare piece of equipment—say, some specialized, imported heavy machinery—has low recuperability.

Criticality. How important is the target in the system of power? Targets with low criticality will cause a minimum of disruption to those in power if they are damaged (such as a broken window). Targets with high criticality will cause significant disruption or disarray (such as a power plant or major highway).

Threat. How dangerous or damaging is the target to our side?

A common mistake of inexperienced movements is to go after accessible and recuperable targets that are simply not very important (like smashing a store window). The result may be a lot of noise and some aggravation for those in power without substantial disruption. However, depending on the goals of the action, a target’s importance may be symbolic as well as material. Say you are trying to shut down a series of toxic waste dumps. If you want to blockade one, you might blockade a dump which is already most notorious—rather than simply the largest one—because the attention might help with your outreach and allow you to mobilize more people and resources in the campaign going forward.

An important factor for most resistance movements is also that the target or the action be visible in some way. This makes the action more likely to inspire others, or to be useful as propaganda by deed.

Part of building superior odds is choosing tactics that match the movement—that allow it to maximize force. A movement that is numerically large but not very militant will maximize the force it can generate by choosing lower risk tactics like mass boycotts, nonviolent protests (or other lowest common denominator tactics). On the other hand, a movement that is numerically small but highly dedicated and militant may be able to maximize its generation of force through higher risk, confrontational actions.

As Rolling Thunder explained: “While the vegan outreach campaign sought to appeal to the lowest common denominator in order to win over consumers, SHAC attracted militants who wanted to make the most efficient use of their individual efforts. Some reasoned that it was unlikely that the entire market base for animal products would be won over to veganism. . . . But practically everyone could agree that punching puppies is inexcusable.”293 (In keeping with advice from the Communications chapter, they chose to “focus on the small part that is unacceptable to most.”)

Target selection is absolutely crucial (see sidebar). Good target selection goes hand in hand with intelligence.

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To win, resisters must be able to choose to engage where they have superior force, using the tactics that will give them the advantage. That may mean having physical mobility, or it may mean tactical flexibility and agility.

A guerrilla movement needs literal mobility; the ability to move and maneuver to attack from advantageous positions, while avoiding or retreating from dangerous ones. But for resistance movements more generally, flexibility is about shifting between different tactics; switching away from tactics that are becoming less effective, using new tactics, and varying their tactical mix.

Effective movements maintain this necessary flexibility by avoiding a doctrinaire or purist approach to tactics. They adjust their tactics as needed to suit circumstances—like the suffragist WSPU—and they allow participants to exercise a variety of tactics suited to their situations, like SHAC.

Rolling Thunder observes that SHAC’s “campaign offered participants a wide range of options, including civil disobedience, office disruptions, property destruction, call-ins, pranks, tabling, and home demonstrations. In contrast to the heyday of anti-globalization summit-hopping, targets were available all around the country, limited only by activists’ imaginations and research. The intermediate goals of forcing specific investors and business partners to disconnect from HLS were often easily accomplished, providing immediate gratification to participants.” Compared to “the massive symbolic actions of the [early 2000s] antiwar movement, the SHAC campaign was a hotbed of experimentation, in which new tactics were constantly being tested.”

This distinction between the mostly decentralized SHAC approach and the mass antiwar marches is echoed in the idea of the cathedral and the bazaar.

The Cathedral and the Bazaar

In 1997, programmer Eric S. Raymond published an essay distinguishing between two fundamentally different organizational models. One he called “the cathedral,” which was centrally planned and closed. The other he called “the bazaar”—like an open market—a decentralized and somewhat anarchic approach to problem-solving. The Encyclopaedia Britannica is the cathedral; Wikipedia is the bazaar.

Raymond was writing about software development, but the core idea has been applied to insurgencies by people like John Robb, who writes: “The bazaar solves the problem: how do small, potentially antagonistic networks combine to conduct war?”294

The centralized cathedral style has been used by many movements, from Greenpeace to the Việt Minh. It has strength in its ability to coordinate and to take on large, well-organized enemies. But decentralized bazaar-style movements often have superior agility and tactical diversity.

SHAC was the perfect example of bazaar-style organizing. Diverse groups experimented with different tactics, publicized their results, and other groups applied what they saw and experimented again. It’s open-source resistance.

The civil rights movement used both styles of organizing. Martin Luther King preferred the cathedral style, and that’s certainly the style that has received most historical coverage. But grassroots organizers often used the bazaar approach, combining direct action with communication and outreach.

Civil rights organizer Marvin Rich explained that their direct actions, like sit-ins, were part disruption and part education. New tactics “were being demonstrated in a public form, so people would just walk by and see it. And people who didn’t think things were possible saw that they were possible, and six months later, in their own home town, they may try it out.”295 Local imitation and modification is crucial to the bazaar approach.

Actions that work become an enduring part of a culture of resistance, tools to be produced as needed in future. Many people think of sit-ins as a 1960s phenomenon, but their use by civil rights activists dated back to the late 1930s, if not earlier.296 They became commonplace in the late 1950s and early 1960s because social and political factors allowed them to proliferate through imitation. (The bazaar requires a “co-optable communications network”—to use Jo Freeman’s term—to publicize actions so other people and groups can imitate and modify them.)

This difference between cathedral and bazaar style organizing is mirrored in some of Ann Hansen’s action. She told me that Direct Action’s bombing of Litton Industries—a highly planned, highly technical affair—was so spectacular that it was difficult for people to identify with. At the same time, it brought down an extreme level of surveillance and repression that eventually led to their capture. On the other hand, the Wimmin’s Fire Brigade attacks on Red Hot Video stores were low-tech, decentralized, and easy for people to identify with. (And the police response triggered was mostly directed at the Red Hot Video owners.)

Italian anarchist magazine ProvocAzione argued: “The method of direct attack against small objectives spread over the social territory is far more effective than the great spectacular actions and demonstrations that are as spectacular as they are innocuous. The State knows very well how to manage and exploit these grand actions. . . . What it does not know . . . is how to control and prevent simple direct attacks against the distribution . . . of structures that are responsible for projects of repression and death.”297

The Bolt Weevils of the 1970s are another perfect example. In fighting the expansion of high-voltage power lines in rural Minnesota, this clandestine group destroyed fourteen power line towers and shot out ten thousand insulators. In the winter of 1978, half of Minnesota’s highway patrol officers were devoted to protecting construction. Private security was hired and police used helicopters to patrol.

The company turned the line over to the federal government and it was eventually completed.298 But no Bolt Weevil ever went to jail.

The speed and agility of the bazaar approach is central to its effectiveness. Stan Goff writes: “In most cases, ten actions against one adversary in ten weeks—each designed to disorient one’s adversary, even if they are not perfect actions—will be more effective than one action in ten weeks that is part of a highly formal strategic scheme.”299

Which brings us to another principle of struggle.

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Some form of coordination and effective decision-making is needed to hold efforts together, both in individual actions and in the larger campaign strategy. Disorganized and scattered resisters are easily isolated and mopped up. Armed guerrillas often have unity of command; a military hierarchy is in place during conflict. Even for nonhierarchical groups a process is needed to make decisions quickly during tactical emergencies.

An effective decision-making process is even more important for resisters than for those in power. A modern army of occupation—even if poorly administrated—has superior firepower, numbers, and training to most resistance movements. To maximize their smaller numbers and limited political force, resisters have to maximize their coordination. Clear decision-making allows a resistance movement to have greatest effect by avoiding confusion or conflicting efforts, and to focus energy and resources on the best targets and tactics.

Effective decision-making doesn’t have to be a single unified structure or hierarchy. It can be participatory decision-making that strengthens an action by making many people feel involved and invested (and by including many different perspectives and possible courses of action). What’s really important is that the decision-making process is suitable to the task at hand, whether that means highly participatory or command oriented. Overly discussion-based methods can backfire in some situations, overly directive methods cause problems in others. I discussed this in more detail back in the Groups & Organization chapter.

The SHAC activists in general had a highly autonomous decision-making structure which was ideal for carrying out a large number of small, creative, mostly low-risk actions suited to local targets and circumstances.

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Surprise is fundamental to disruptive actions. Resisters often contend with large, formally organized bureaucracies that are powerful but slower to respond. Resisters use surprise to create and exploit tactical and strategic advantages.

Surprise is a powerful tool for all kinds of resistance movements. Armed guerrilla movements use it constantly in surprise attacks, ambushes, and other engagements. Nonviolent groups—from the militant suffragists to the anti-apartheid occupiers at Columbia University—similarly use surprise to multiply the effect of their actions. (Even if the goal is only to raise awareness or getting attention, surprising and fresh action is more successful.) Surprise is easier for small, well-organized, or closed groups to use. But even large and inclusive groups can still use it at times, as with the Columbia sit-ins (chapter 4) or Grassy Narrows in their rotating anti-logging blockades (chapter 1).

Surprise is not just important in a tactical sense but also in a strategic sense. Remember what Bert Klandermans wrote: movement cycles are triggered by tactical innovation. A novel or unexpected tactic will be imitated and spread, overcoming stagnation and giving a temporary advantage to resisters.

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Good plans are simple plans. There is a saying that no plan survives contact with the enemy.300 Needlessly complex plans fall apart in the rapidly changing circumstances of conflict. A US guerrilla warfare manual notes, “simple plans executed on time are better than detailed plans executed late.”301 Simplicity is important in the best of times, but in emergencies, only simple plans will work.

Complicated plans are difficult to communicate, and in participatory decision-making they take much more time to discuss and come to agreement on. Highly technical, sophisticated actions (like Direct Action’s Litton Industries bombing) are difficult to carry out perfectly and difficult for people to identify with. And the more moving parts, the more chains of interdependent events, the more things there are to go wrong. In the case of the Litton Industries action that included the incomplete receipt of the warning call to security and the premature detonation of the bomb caused by electrical interference from police radios.

Simple plans (like the Wimmin’s Fire Brigade action) are technically straightforward and easier for people to identify with. There are fewer things to go wrong. Simplicity is needed for bazaar-style work. One of Eric S. Raymond’s principles is that perfection is achieved when there is nothing more that can be taken away; that is, when a plan is as simple as possible. SHAC’s approach was ultimately very simple, which is why many people were able to participate in it.

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Reckless action wastes time and resources, so resistance movements often plan carefully and in advance. Resistance organizers carefully consider many different options and contingencies when planning an action to make sure that they have a high chance of success. This includes intelligence-gathering and recon, ensuring logistics are available, training participants, and so on.

Decentralized direct action groups may need even more careful planning than centralized groups. Careful planning ensures that possible options and contingencies have been explored, and that the group already has a sense of several different courses of action, so that it can act cohesively in a rapidly changing situation without a command structure.

The Greek TV station takeover was a perfect example of this; it was participatory and nonhierarchical in implementation, and so required extensive discussion, planning, and rehearsal. Everyone had to know their role exactly and be able to implement it independently, which is not the case in hierarchal groups (when someone in charge can yell orders during an action).

SHAC’s strategy relied on careful research by a central body of full-time cadres. The same level of organizing couldn’t have been achieved by every decentralized group; it would have been inefficient for every potential participant to duplicate that intelligence gathering, and lack of intelligence would have been a major barrier.

Finally, these last three principles are a triad, often seen together.

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Resistance movements are rarely concentrated or monolithic; they are often made up of numerous small groups, sometimes geographically scattered. They rarely have a clear, unified command hierarchy. Since they can’t win by pitched battles, they maximize their force by conducting a large number of small, decentralized actions.

Strategy may be improved by centralized planning, but tactics are often more effective when decentralized. Large numbers of decentralized or semi-autonomous groups can magnify the impact of small numbers without the logistical burden of massive and centralized organizations.

Decentralized execution was critical for SHAC. Just as it would have been inefficient for every group to duplicate research, it would have been extremely difficult (and inappropriate) for the central SHAC group to try to plan and coordinate all of the actions around the UK and in the United States. Decentralized execution allowed a much higher level of tactical agility and strategic unpredictability.

Decentralization also offered some limited protection for SHAC organizers by insulating them from people carrying out attacks (though obviously not enough to avoid jail time completely). Participants, in turn, received some protection from the large number of decentralized actions; most actions undertaken weren’t illegal and it wasn’t possible for police to investigate every one of thousands of leads.

Both Black Lives Matter and Idle No More have been very effective at staging decentralized actions. And Black Lives Matter, in particular, has become proficient at a very fast response to changing conditions (like a shooting of yet another unarmed person of color).

Small actions can be more easily carried out, analyzed, and improved to make successive actions more effective. Furthermore, prolonged actions are logistically and organizationally draining; that is, they tend to get expensive and boring.

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Disruption is best achieved quickly. Resisters carry out their action and move on before those in power can bring superior force to bear on resisters. Frequent, short actions are easier to carry out—and more disruptive—than a single perfectly planned and organized action.

Short-duration action is a quintessential guerrilla characteristic, to the point that it has become embodied in action-movie clichés: Pack light, move fast, get in, get out, etc. Guerrillas do need to combine short-duration actions with surprise so that they can ambush a target, destroy it or steal supplies, and then vanish again before enemy reinforcements arrive.

Of course, it applies to unarmed direct actionists as well, from spray-painters to saboteurs to confrontational community organizers. Seizing and holding territory—whether that’s an Irish government building in 1916 or a street intersection in Seattle in 1999—is a difficult task, and it quickly becomes impossible once government artillery and/or riot police arrive. Longer occupations and blockades have their place, but should be initiated only after careful consideration. They can delay bad projects and act as a rallying point, but after a few days or weeks they can feel like a tedious chore and a resource drain if progress is not made or support is not rallied.

Two of Saul Alinsky’s rules for radicals dealt with this. He warned that participants should enjoy the tactics being used: “If your people aren’t having a ball doing it, there is something very wrong with the tactic.” And he cautioned: “A tactic that drags on for too long becomes a drag. Commitment may become ritualistic as people turn to other issues.”

That said, these principles aren’t a checklist; every one doesn’t need to be combined for a given tactic. So if a given long-duration action is, in your situation, a better way to, say, take the initiative, concentrate force, and keep a plan simple, then that tactic may be just great.

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Resisters often use many small actions—especially simultaneous ones—to overwhelm those in power. Simultaneous actions are especially effective when they embody the principles of short, simple, and decentralized action.

Closely spaced or simultaneous actions are a staple of guerrilla movements. (A Day of Action—when wide autonomous action is called for around a given issue—is the same idea.)

This multiplicity is a key part of the bazaar approach. There are fewer things to go wrong in simple, short actions. And even if something does go wrong at one action (as with the Wimmin’s Fire Brigade when one target was not destroyed), there are other actions which probably will succeed. Or, at least, there is a shorter turnaround time to learn from mistakes.

SHAC’s campaign relied on multiple simultaneous actions against thousands of potential secondary targets. A company like HLS could guard or fortify a central laboratory against disruption (small resistance movements cannot stage massive attacks against fortified targets), but it was impossible to defend the thousands of secondary targets available.

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As I said before, these principles are not a checklist; they are patterns that help to magnify the disruptive force a group can muster. If your group or situation prevents you from using one principle effectively, ask what others you can use. For example, I once participated in a blockade of a prison where new cells were being constructed. When the intensity of the police response made it impossible to hold the blockade at that location—we lacked adequate concentration of force—we made up for it by using initiative and mobility. The group relocated to a different target (a bridge blockade) and then moved on again before police could contain, arrest, or disperse the group.

Successful tactics often use these principles, whether consciously or not. Consider the popularity of the snake march, in which a group of people march along a random path in an urban area, usually to cause disruption. This tactic may have a clear objective (such as to disrupt a financial district, or to interrupt the flow of traffic around an event). Snake marchers seize and retain the initiative, using surprise and mobility to avoid being trapped by the police. (Using the snake approach with bicycles can be even more effective because the participants have more mobility than riot police.) The marchers can concentrate their mass to outnumber police at any given intersection (although riot police have superior concentration of force if they use kettling to break the march up into confined, manageable chunks). Snake marches with recon capacity can try to avoid concentrations of police. The snake march is a simple, short-duration tactic that requires minimal planning, logistics, or decision-making. It uses decentralized execution, and multiple snake marches can happen at the same time.

Movements that have failed to use these principles have a difficult time effecting change or disrupting business as usual. The Occupy movement was not able to exert much political force on those in power in part because its strategy did not include these elements. Though it was confrontational in the sense that members took over public property for the movement, it lacked a clear, attainable goal. Though it went on the offensive when first setting up encampments, it later mostly surrendered the initiative and stayed in stationary positions. Like any long-duration action, the camps were logistically draining to sustain. Without mobility or the element of surprise, camps were easily overwhelmed and shut down at the convenience of police.

The movement did have the benefit of decentralized execution and multiple, simultaneous actions. But I think that the strength of the Occupy movement was mostly as a tool for communication, recruitment, and training. It was a rallying point for people to meet, network, share ideas, and practice skills. (Many Occupy sites also hosted groups using more disruptive direct action.) I think the beneficial legacy of Occupy comes mostly from those factors, rather than from disruption caused by that movement directly.

Given the choice between doing something imperfect—which will at least tend the fires of resistance—and doing nothing, it’s almost always better to do something.

OPERATION BITE BACK

Most successful actions are carefully planned. Proper preparation prevents poor performance, as the saying goes, and preparation is a necessity for effective direct action. The Animal Liberation Front’s highly successful Operation Bite Back, in the Pacific Northwest, is a good example.

“As the sun lowered itself on the day of June 10, 1991,” recounts an anonymous firsthand report, “six ALF warriors found themselves gathered around a campfire on nearby forest lands checking battery power on radios, reviewing hand drawn and topographical maps, and dressing down in bright college attire to hide the dark clothes they wore underneath. A joy that rarely inhabits our ranks was in the air as we readied ourselves for a night that would bring long-awaited justice to the nation’s largest fur farm research station.”302 They have already performed careful reconnaissance of the nearby mink laboratory and chosen a dark night with minimal nearby activity.

“Fanny packs were organized with the assorted equipment necessary to each individual member and cash was distributed to each warrior who would be on foot in case of separation, as well as maps with predetermined routes out of the area. Easy retreat plans were reviewed, roles were discussed and each warrior would repeat their responsibilities until everyone was assured that they understood every action that would comprise the raid.”303

They got in to the fur farm quickly and removed marking information from mink cages to confuse the researchers. Some records and documents were stolen for intelligence (such as address and phone books and financial information). The remainder of the records are destroyed along with various samples.304 An incendiary device on a delay timer was set in an unoccupied supply barn.

“Within minutes all team members regrouped carrying plastic trash bags in their fanny packs containing all tools and evidence of our presence. In a few more minutes with mountain bikes loaded and all confiscated research documents and photos in a safe car, we drove the speed limit across county lines to the nearby interstate where all clothes worn during the action were distributed in various dumpsters. Shoes worn during the action also were thrown away and all tools although new were deposited in the nearest river. At about the same time a fire erupted in the experimental feed barn and demolished the feed supply and all equipment in the barn, as well as the barn itself.”

This action, like many successful insurgent operations, used the principles of clear objective, surprise, simplicity, careful planning, and short-duration action.

“The blow was too much for the tight budgeted research lab to endure. When 1991 ended and O.S.U.’s mink herd was killed, O.S.U.’s animal research department decided to cut funds to the fur farm and within six months the Oregon State University Experimental Fur Animal Research Station closed its doors forever. In its first stage, Operation Bite Back had shut down the nations [sic] largest Fur Farm research facility.”305

And their stolen intelligence helped them plan future actions.

“Once more the ALF had proven that what could not be accomplished with years of protest, could be achieved with a handful of brave-hearted warriors. Now it was time to wait for others to follow our lead.”306

PLANNING AN ACTION

So what do you need to do to effectively plan an action? Here are some questions to ask, in roughly chronological order. The emphasis here is on disruption, though the same can apply to many different kinds of action.

What is our operational goal? Good tactics flow from good strategy. Choose an actionable goal that is decisive, shaping, or sustaining. Then brainstorm potential tactics and targets to either achieve that goal or make progress toward it.

What is our tactic and target? If you have been preparing, you may already have a list of potential targets (see p. 540). Pick one using functional target selection criteria like accessibility, criticality, and so on. Be clear on how the action will help accomplish your operational goal. (You may also want to plan a series of actions in tandem.)

When you choose your tactic, ask: Will this help advance our campaign? (See chapter 12.) Have we considered all relevant parts of the Taxonomy of Action? (Volume One, p. 99) Will this tactic make use of and develop our capacities for action (e.g., intelligence, recruitment potential, communications, etc.)? At the same time—or even before—also ask:

Who will be involved? And how will decisions be made? Who will help plan the action? Who should be consulted? And who will carry it out? The answers depend on your organization, level of openness, the risk level of the action, and the skills and resources required.

Planning and consultation can be great opportunities to connect with allies and build full spectrum resistance. That said, it’s good to be cautious when inviting people to become planners, since inviting too many people or inviting the wrong people can slow things down or produce needless conflict. (See Alliances and Coalitions, p. 611.)

Once you know who is involved, organize them into subgroups or roles (if needed) for logistics, planning, training, and so on. (For example, does the action require affinity groups or the use of the buddy system?)

If you are bringing in a larger number of participants beyond your planning group, you’ll need to clarify decision-making and ground rules for the operation. Ground rules might include security culture or tactical boundaries. Clearly identify the decision-making structure—and who is part of it—on the ground. Ideally, as much of this as possible should be set up before other people are brought in, to avoid conflict and ensure that you can move forward instead of getting tied up in preliminary discussions. (That said, you might need those discussions if the action is meant to be part of a coalition-building strategy.)

What intelligence and recon are needed to make the action a success? Ideally your choice of target and tactic are guided by background research; you’ll also want detailed information on the place where the action is happening.

As examples for direct action: Who is in a building at specific times? Are there shifts or business hours? What is the likely police or security response? What are the best access routes? (See Reconnaissance and scouting, p. 419) The ALF’s diligent recon as part of Operation Bite Back was a primary reason for their success.

What different scenarios might we expect? You’ll want a detailed tactical plan that includes different scenarios and contingencies. On a step-by-step basis, how is the action actually going to be carried out on the site? Where are different people going to be placed? How many people are assigned to each task? Is there a specific command structure on the ground? How will people communicate during the action? Who is responsible for giving the go-ahead or the abort signal? How long do different elements of the action take and what times will they happen at? Anticipate that the real action will play out differently from your ideal plan. Plot out multiple scenarios for the action, keeping in mind how things might go wrong, and how you will respond to them. Remember, also, the strategic and operational principles we’ve already discussed—such as surprise and initiative—and especially the importance of clear and simple plans. As the US Field Manual on Guerrilla Warfare advises: “Although detailed, the plan for a raid must be essentially simple, and not depend on too many contingencies for its success. Duplicate or alternate arrangements are made for the execution of key operations to increase the chances of success.”307

What is our exit plan? Remember that for SOE resisters in occupied Europe, the first step of any action was to plan a safe exit. This may be as straightforward as dispersing quickly in small groups, or it may involve covers, vehicles, changing of clothes, disposing of equipment, and the use of safe houses. In general, know when and how the action will end; that could mean making sure a rally doesn’t drag on without a conclusive finish, or making sure to disperse stragglers quickly after a snake march so they aren’t arrested.

What skills and training are needed? Does everyone involved have the necessary skills? How can we use this action to develop the basic skills needed in a culture of resistance? What training or practice is needed to make this action a success?

It’s often important to stage rehearsals or role-plays in advance of an action. This is not just for comfort’s sake; it’s important to genuinely identify problems rather than simply going through the motions. I’ve been part of more than one pre-action role play in which obvious problems were ignored to keep things moving, only to have the same problems crop up, disastrously, in the action itself. These rehearsals also help bind the team together and give an estimate of how long different actions will require. Try to make the practice scenarios as realistic as possible, whether that means doing things in the dark or the cold, traveling long distances, etc. Often, stress is a key element and is difficult to replicate in practice scenarios, but it’s important to simulate if possible.308

What will be the time and date of the action? There may be a single date on which the action can be carried out, or there may be multiple candidates and fallback dates. When planning supply flights to resisters in occupied Europe, Allied air force commanders had to carefully consider day length, weather forecasts, and moon phase.309 The date of D-Day was chosen because of a low tide at dawn preceded by night with sufficient moonlight to drop paratroopers before the attack. Candidate dates for an action may depend on weather and moonlight, but also on weekdays, changing shifts, and special events. It’s beneficial to have a fallback date or dates in case something goes wrong before the start of the action—say, unexpected activity at the target—but this is more difficult if the action involves coordination with other parties. Once the date is identified, consider drafting a detailed time line of the work that needs to be accomplished before the event.

What security and safety risks might exist? Are there hazards involved in this action? How can you reduce or cope with them? Is there a risk of injury that would call for medics to be on the team? What kind of anti-repression measures do you require? Will people need legal or jail support? Mutual care or psychological support? Ideally, develop skills or organizational capacity that will function in the long term, so that in the future that capacity will be at hand.

Who, if anyone, has the power to call off the action at the eleventh hour if it seems too dangerous or if the situation changes unexpectedly?

What communications or media coverage do we want? Do we want to promote the action in advance, or is it a surprise? Do we want media coverage, and what is our desired framing? What communications materials do we want? (See chapter 7 for more.)

Are there potential side effects or reprisals? How could this affect bystanders? Could this action bring police or legal attention on our allies? Do we need to adjust the action, warn allies, or make other preparations to minimize side effects?

What equipment or materials do we need? Make sure that all gear is adequate for the task, ready, and safe to use—even if that’s just a matter of making sure that protest signs show up on time. Make sure that everyone knows how to safely use and troubleshoot the equipment they are expected to operate. Have spares or spare parts for critical gear. Underground groups may need equipment to be untraceable and plan a means for disposal.

Do we have a checklist for the day of the action? I find it invaluable to have a checklist to use in the hours before an action that summarizes who is responsible for what, the equipment needed, the schedule, and other key information. (This kind of checklist might be too sensitive to write down for some actions.) Final tasks could include a check-in, a pep talk, or words of mutual encouragement before an action.

After the action: debrief and analysis. Check in with those involved and ensure that they are physically and psychologically well. Ensure that everything went as planned, or understand where it deviated. Identify what went well and what could be improved. Consider the events immediately afterward, and later with some distance and perspective. Did the action achieve its desired goal? Was there repression or unexpected disruption? How did the organizers deal with it? Did they have the capacity that was needed? Integrate the lessons learned into your future planning, tactics, and organization.

It’s a good exercise to analyze other groups’ actions, say from the news, using similar questions.310

PEASANT RESISTANCE TACTICS

James C. Scott begins his excellent 1985 book by bemoaning that period’s leftist obsession with spectacular wars of nation liberation—like the struggle in Vietnam—as the primary model for resistance. In Weapons of the Weak: Everyday Forms of Peasant Resistance, he warns that such dramatic uprisings are only one form of resistance, and an exceedingly rare one at that. He argues that “subordinate classes throughout most of history have rarely been afforded the luxury of open, organized, political activity. Or, better stated, such activity was dangerous, if not suicidal.”311

Furthermore, he adds, “for all their importance when they do occur, peasant rebellions—let alone revolutions—are few and far between. The vast majority are crushed unceremoniously. When, more rarely, they do succeed, it is a melancholy fact that the consequences are seldom what the peasantry had in mind.”312 Peasants, he argues, have generally focused their efforts on what you might call harm reduction—limiting the severity and damage of exploitation—rather than open revolution with unpredictable results.

James Scott bolsters his argument with a number of historical examples and with his own detailed account of the years he spent in a Malaysian village from 1978 to 1980, when the social costs of the Green Revolution were coming into effect. In general, he writes: “In the Third World it is rare for peasants to risk an outright confrontation with the authorities over taxes, cropping patterns, development policies, or onerous new laws; instead they are likely to nibble away at such policies by noncompliance, foot dragging, deception. In place of a land invasion, they prefer piecemeal squatting; in place of open mutiny, they prefer desertion; in place of attacks on public or private grain stores, they prefer pilfering. When such stratagems are abandoned in favor of more quixotic action, it is usually a sign of great desperation.”313 (Peasants almost always lean toward bazaar-style organizing.)

Scott points out—as I have argued throughout this book—that movements are most effective when they find a harmonious match between strategy, tactics, and organization. He observes: “Such low-profile techniques are admirably suited to the social structure of the peasantry—a class scattered across the countryside, lacking formal organization, and best equipped for extended, guerrilla-style, defensive campaigns of attrition. Their individual acts of foot dragging and evasion, reinforced by a venerable popular culture of resistance and multiplied many thousand-fold, may, in the end, make an utter shambles of the policies dreamed up by their would-be superiors in the capital.”314

He notes, in a lovely ecological analogy: “Everyday forms of resistance make no headlines. But just as millions of anthozoan polyps create, willy-nilly, a coral reef, so do the multiple acts of peasant insubordination and evasion create political and economic barrier reefs of their own. It is largely in this fashion that the peasantry makes its political presence felt. And whenever, to pursue the simile, the ship of state runs aground on such reefs, attention is usually directed to the shipwreck itself and not to the vast aggregation of petty acts that made it possible.”315 This is how a culture of resistance works.

He does caution that “[i]t would be a grave mistake, as it is with peasant rebellions, to overly romanticize the ‘weapons of the weak.’ They are unlikely to do more than marginally affect the various forms of exploitation that peasants confront.”316 That said, “[e]ven a casual reading of the literature on rural ‘development’ yields a rich harvest of unpopular government schemes and programs nibbled to extinction by the passive resistance of the peasantry.”317

This type of low-level resistance, Scott notes, has parallels in the tactics of slaves in the antebellum American South, and of those oppressed by the caste system in India. Edward B. Harper writes:

Lifelong indentured servants most characteristically expressed discontent about their relationship with their master by performing work carelessly and inefficiently. They could intentionally or unconsciously feign illness, ignorance, or incompetence, driving their masters to distraction. Even though the master could retaliate by refusing to give his servant the extra fringe benefits, he was still obliged to maintain him at a subsistence level if he did not want to lose his investment completely. This method of passive resistance, provided it was not expressed as open defiance, was nearly unbeatable.318

James Scott writes: “It is only rarely that the perpetrators of these petty acts seek to call attention to themselves. Their safety lies in their anonymity. It is also extremely rare that officials of the state wish to publicize the insubordination. To do so would be to admit that their policy is unpopular, and, above all, to expose the tenuousness of their authority in the countryside—neither of which the sovereign state finds in its interest.”319 Hence, such acts are often absent from the history books.

Scott spent his time in Malaysia when the economic situation for peasants was generally worsening because of the industrialization of agriculture. The gradual introduction of the combine harvester for rice crops removed an important source of income (and political leverage) for those who worked as harvesters. Poverty and the class disparity were growing. At the same time, emboldened landlords engaged in excessive rent, land theft, and all the aspects of peasant exploitation that we have come to expect from capitalism.320

The impacts of the Green Revolution and capitalism were mostly gradual enough that they didn’t provoke a single uprising. Though each year some people would see a significant downturn in their livelihood, these economic and political changes did not simultaneously threaten every peasant in the village. And the introduction of the combine created new challenges for resistance. Peasants could fight traditional means of exploitation by “working slow” or withdrawing their labor. But the combine harvester didn’t exploit the peasants—it simply took them out of the equation. It’s difficult to go on strike if you are unemployed.321

These trends brought out resistance. But, Scott writes, the tactics used “reflect the conditions and constraints under which they are generated. If they are open, they are rarely collective, and, if they are collective, they are rarely open. The encounters seldom amount to more than ‘incidents,’ the results are usually inconclusive, and the perpetrators move under cover of darkness or anonymity, melting back into the ‘civilian’ population for protective cover.”322 The political weakness of the peasants—and the possibility of landlord and state reprisal—required clandestine organizing.

Peasant resistance in Malaysia included—as movements typically do—a diversity of tactics. Some forms of noncooperation, like strikes, were used. But they were often more subtle than a rowdy picket line. For example, women harvesters may have simply failed to return to harvest after lunch. The farmer would then have to send someone to offer a modest wage increase. The job action may not have even been called a strike.

Scott notes that other harvesters in the same village would not take over a harvest stopped midway; they would not scab.323 “Such minimal solidarity depends, here as elsewhere, not just on a seemly regard for one’s fellows, but on the sanctions that the poor can bring to bear to keep one another in line. Since the temptation to break ranks is always alluring to members of a class that has chronic difficulty making ends meet. . . . The modest level of restraint that has been achieved makes ample use of social sanctions such as gossip, character assassination, and public shunning.”324

The introduction of the combine harvester provoked a variety of resistance actions including circumspect strikes and boycotts, physical blockades, sabotage, arson, and the intimidation of landlords.325 Few people would discuss the details of clandestine action with Scott, but he did find some accounts of sabotage against the combines:

Batteries were removed from the machines and thrown in irrigation ditches; carburetors and other vital parts such as distributors and air filters were smashed; sand and mud were put into the gas tank; and various objects (stones, wire, nails) were thrown into the augers. Two aspects of this sabotage deserve particular emphasis. First, it was clear that the goal of the saboteurs was not simple theft, for nothing was actually stolen. Second, all of the sabotage was carried out at night by individuals or small groups acting anonymously. They were, furthermore, shielded by their fellow villagers who, if they knew who was involved, claimed total ignorance when the police came to investigate. As a result, no prosecutions were ever made.326

In some cases, peasants stalled the rollout of combines because of subtle intimidation or threats of violence.327 All in all, these efforts delayed but did not stop the introduction of the machines. Which is, perhaps, no surprise. Within the context of voracious capitalism, supplied by cheap fossil energy, piecemeal action is almost always a delaying tactic. After the combines were introduced, many people reported to Scott that they wished they had acted more decisively, and with more unity, to stop the machines.328 To convert isolated actions into a serious strategy for resistance is one of the most important—and most difficult—tasks of any movement.

Of course, just having the idea of a strategy is not enough to put it into place. Winning strategy requires all of the capacities we’ve discussed in this book. It requires strong organizations—on different scales and of different sizes—and the ability to recruit people into them. It requires security to protect those people, and the logistics to support more intensive struggle.

Success requires more than the “weapons of the weak.” To win, we have to build movements and organizations that make us strong, that let us move beyond scattered half-measures to engage in real collective action.

When a movement succeeds in this—even temporarily—the results can be inspiring and, depending on the outcome, heartbreaking. Which brings us to the North-West Rebellion.

THE NORTH-WEST REBELLION

In 1885, Métis and Cree people (living in what is now called Saskatchewan) decided to fight back against continued encroachment and colonialism. Their uprising became known as the North-West Rebellion, one of the most important campaigns against the “settling of the West.” As an act of resistance, it continues to inspire, but much of its early promise went unfulfilled. I want to explore what happened in that rebellion—what worked and what didn’t.

Early Canadian colonizers were less reliant on outright massacres and armed occupation than colonizers in other parts of the Americas. Because of the vast land area of Canada and challenges posed by its terrain and climate, early colonization often depended on gaining cooperation from Indigenous people. The Hudson’s Bay Company was initially dependent on trade with Indigenous people for valuable furs demanded in Europe.

Starting in the 1600s, the Hudson’s Bay Company—which would act as a de facto government in much of Canada—built trading posts that would later become forts and settlements. It expanded through a network of traditional trails that it would help turn into roads and railways. And male European traders and trappers (like the French voyageurs) sometimes married Indigenous women; their offspring were called Métis, and became an enduring culture that blended Indigenous and French/European traditions.

Despite an early need for trade, Canadian colonialism became increasingly violent as the number and power of Europeans grew. In the east, Indigenous peoples had their land stolen and were forced onto reservations. The government of Canada carried out cultural genocide through programs like the residential schools. And colonial powers looked west, to the prairies, for more land to devour.

In 1869, the government of Canada bought the territory “owned” by the Hudson’s Bay Company, and sent surveyors to lead the (mostly Anglophone) settlement of the area. Métis—who had no official title to their lands under the colonial system—were afraid they would lose their lands and see their culture overwhelmed. Around the Red River (in what became Manitoba), Métis rebelled, some under the leadership of Métis man Louis Riel (who had been born in the area but was trained in the seminary and law in Montreal). The Métis set up their own provisional government and stopped the surveyors. Riel issued a list of demands and planned to negotiate with the Canadian government. This first uprising became known as the Red River Rebellion.

As this rebellion was underway, some Anglo settlers decided to try to overthrow the Métis provisional government by force of arms. But they were captured and put on trial by the provisional government. One of them—Thomas Scott—was executed by firing squad at Riel’s insistence (probably to send a message that the Métis meant business). Many historians believe this execution was a major mistake. In response to Scott’s death, the Canadian government sent an armed militia to put down the resistance and impose Canadian political authority.

Before those troops arrived, Louis Riel fled across the border to the United States. The Red River Rebellion was put down, though some its demands would later be met with the formation of the new province of Manitoba. Riel traveled for a while, and was elected as a member of parliament three times (though he never sat in parliament). He became increasingly obsessed with the idea that he was the divinely ordained leader of the Métis. His mental health worsened; he had a nervous breakdown, and was institutionalized at an asylum in Quebec.329 He spent nearly two years there; he would pray standing up for hours on end, getting servants to help hold his arms outstretched like Christ on the cross.330 After he left the asylum in 1878, he moved to Montana and got married.

Prelude to Rebellion: Riel and Dumont

Though some Métis demands had been met, the situation for Métis and Indigenous people worsened in the decade after the Red River Rebellion. The herds of buffalo had been effectively eradicated. As Indigenous people were forced onto reservations, the Canadian government deliberately kept them on a starvation diet.331 Many Métis were part-time farmers, but 1884 saw a poor harvest because of terrible weather. Métis and Indigenous people saw their grievances ignored or stonewalled by the Canadian government and continued to be displaced by a growing flood of Anglo settlers.332

Some histories treat Louis Riel as the sole leader of the North-West Rebellion. Riel’s eventual execution made him into a martyred figure (and so more appealing to liberals). But there were many factions at play, and many leaders. Among the Cree, Big Bear and Poundmaker were important figures. But I’m going to focus here on two Métis leaders—Louis Riel and Gabriel Dumont—because their interactions are so illuminating and, in some troubling ways, so familiar among resistance movements.

Riel was the figurehead, the public speaker, and the would-be messiah. His colleague Gabriel Dumont was a skilled commander and strategist, an experienced leader of buffalo hunts and skirmishes on the plains. Riel was a man educated by the colonial system, well versed in colonial politics. Dumont was illiterate, but could speak six Indigenous languages along with French.333 Riel had politicked with the federal government; Dumont had strong ties to Indigenous people and had negotiated many truces on the plains.334

I’m going to draw especially on the work of radical historian George Woodcock, whose biography of Gabriel Dumont examines aspects of the rebellion that more conventional historians overlook. Woodcock writes that “Dumont was the natural man par excellence, adapted perfectly to the life of the wilderness, and in this way he was profoundly different from Riel, who was as alienated as any modern Canadian from that existence. Riel may have been a defender of the past, but like many such defenders he did not belong to what he defended.”335

Riel’s viewpoint reflected both his alienation from traditional ways and his faith in the basic colonial system. Woodcock believes that Riel “doubtless assumed that the right legislation would immediately rectify matters. He was a very modern man in his illusion that within a cage of political action one might preserve the vanishing splendours of a free and natural life.”336 Riel was, in other words, a liberal; someone who believed an adjustment of the status quo would be sufficient.

But Riel was well known as a leader of the Red River Rebellion. So when some Métis decided that organized rebellion was necessary, it was Riel they chose to approach. Gabriel Dumont led an expedition to Montana to ask Riel to return north. Riel—flattered that his divine destiny was being recognized—enthusiastically agreed.

But there was a deep problem, as Woodcock explains: “What Dumont and his comrades did not take into account was the veering in Riel’s mind away from rationality during the years since he rode away. . . . If the Métis expected a political leader, they received a prophet, and exalté, a prairie Gandhi without Gandhi’s consistency, for Riel developed desperate policies that could succeed only by means of violence, and yet he shrank from violence when it came.”337

The Rebellion Begins

After Louis Riel arrived (in what is now Saskatchewan), the rebellion began much as it had sixteen years previously in Manitoba. The Métis founded a provisional government in Batoche (see map, figure 11-1) and began to consolidate their position.

Dumont immediately raised about three hundred men and organized them into a militia. He chose a house in Batoche as his military headquarters. He appointed two scout captains, each of whom was assigned ten of the best riders, to patrol either side of the Saskatchewan River. He then divided the remaining fighters into ten companies, each led by a captain he hand-picked.338

Dumont wanted to join forces with First Nations such as the Cree. Indeed, many Métis were hoping for an alliance with First Nations, an alliance which Dumont had prepared the way for in the years after 1870. His proposed plan was that “the campaign should begin with surprise assaults on Fort Carlton and Prince Albert, and the capture of the stores of arms and ammunition in these places.”339 Dumont also knew—experienced in provisioning hunting parties and his own community—that attacks would yield much-needed supplies and munitions.

In Dumont’s plan, after the forts and their supply stockpiles were taken, Dumont and Métis forces would head southeast to attack the railway itself. They would destroy telegraph lines and tracks, ambushing or derailing the trains of any military reinforcements that arrived. These attacks would supply them with high-quality arms and ammunition they were desperately in need of. They would deprive the Canadian government a major advantage: fast transportation through an area that the rebels knew better and could traverse more easily.

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Figure 11-1: Major Locations in the North-West Rebellion

This map shows major locations during the 1885 uprising of Metis and indigenous people. Modern Canadian provincial bound­aries are shown for clarity.

Once the forts had been taken and the railways severed, Dumont planned to use guerrilla warfare against military reinforcements that arrived on foot or by boat along the river. As they won victories, neutral groups would begin to support the uprising. Dumont knew that they could not drive the European settlers out of the plains entirely and did not seek to. But if Dumont’s strategy had been implemented freely, they could have held that territory long enough to negotiate a nation-to-nation agreement with the government of Canada and rally the force needed to compel Canada to abide by its previous agreements and treaties.

Woodcock argues: “If later historical examples like that of Ireland between 1919 and 1921 are anything to go by, [Dumont’s] strategy stood at least a sporting chance of success. It was Riel’s attempt to win by a show of violence instead of by its reality that doomed the 1885 rebellion from the start.” As Woodcock writes, “however violently [Riel] might talk when no specific action was involved, he lacked [Dumont]’s willingness to accept without qualm the fact that war meant fighting.”340 Louis Riel, in other words, was a rare combination: the militant liberal. Even his execution of Thomas Scott had been a largely symbolic act, and repression brought down by that execution in the previous rebellion likely make Riel more gun-shy.341

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So instead of building a fighting coalition, Riel insisted on other priorities. Shortly after the provisional government was put in place, Riel used the governing council to pass a series of religious edicts. One resolution proclaimed that Hell was not everlasting, as this was not compatible with the idea of a merciful God. Another moved the Sabbath to Saturday. Yet another renamed the days of the week, replacing the pagan name “Monday” with “Christaurore,” Tuesday with “Viergeaurore,” and so on. Priests inevitably objected, and Riel told them that the Pope was no longer infallible and that Riel himself had been chosen as God’s representative.

Riel quashed Dumont’s plan to stage surprise attacks on Fort Carlton and Prince Albert, and insisted on keeping their force in and around Batoche. This was Riel’s “City of God”; he had a vision of a glorious victory there. Though Dumont had reached out to Indigenous groups in the area, many of them—understandably wary of direct armed conflict with the Canadian government—waited and watched to see if success was likely or possible. Without going on the offensive, it was impossible for Riel and Dumont to demonstrate the potential for victory.

Riel’s obsession with his religious visions, and his refusal to listen to Dumont’s excellent strategy, neutralized the main advantages the Métis had: surprise, initiative, and mobility. Riel’s non-strategy ignored the value of the Métis intelligence network of scouts. And it prevented the Métis from compensating for their limitations, especially logistical weaknesses like an inadequate supply of munitions.

Despite these limitations, both the Métis and the Cree would prove their incredible skill and tactical abilities in the battles that followed.

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After the provisional government was declared on March 19, 1885, Riel sent a message to the North-West Mounted Police (NWMP) to ask for the bloodless surrender of Fort Carlton. This was rejected by the NWMP. Instead, commander Leif Crozier decided he would make an example of the Métis. In need of supplies, Crozier marched a force of ninety-five men toward a general store at Duck Lake (see Figure 11-2, Detail Map of Battles in the North-West Rebellion).

What Crozier didn’t know was that Dumont—also in need of supplies—had anticipated this move and had traveled to Duck Lake with more than 250 fighters. Dumont’s fighters had already moved into fortified positions in and around log cabins at the site. On March 26, Crozier marched up, spotted the ambush, and opened fire. His troops were better armed and had a cannon to use against the log cabins, whereas Dumont didn’t even have enough guns for his own fighters.

During the battle Dumont was injured by a bullet across his scalp, a head wound that would bleed profusely for days. Dumont’s brother was killed, along with four others on the Métis side. But with their superior positioning and numbers, the Métis overwhelmed their better-armed foes, killing ten and wounding eleven before Crozier ordered a retreat. Dumont, though wounded, wanted to pursue them, as they would have been easily defeated. Riel insisted that they allow the NWMP to leave without more bloodshed.

Because of Riel’s refusal to engage, the Métis were unable to capture Crozier and his force as prisoners—hostages they greatly needed—and were also unable to take guns or ammunition from their nearly defeated foes. The strategic consequences were severe. Crozier marched back to Fort Carlton and warned his superiors about what was going on. Fort Carlton’s garrison and supplies were evacuated, and the fort set ablaze. The Métis were unable to seize the fort or—more importantly—the supplies stored there. And they lost the element of strategic surprise.

Dumont wanted to ambush the wagon train full of supplies as it left Fort Carlton. “We could have killed a lot of them,” Dumont himself later recounted. “But Riel, who kept us constantly on the leash, was formally opposed to the project.” Woodcock observes: “[A]ttacked at night in country unfamiliar to most of them, very few of [the NWMP] party would have survived to join in the defense of Prince Albert.”342 He adds: “Once again, Riel’s restraint and his lingering dreams of a treaty without further bloodshed, gave respite to the enemy, and Dumont, who realized that strategic as well as tactical advantages were being given away, raged inwardly even as he did his best to calm the restlessness of his young captains and their men.”343

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Encouraged by the victory at Duck Lake, nearby Cree began attacks of their own. In late winter and struggling with the destruction of buffalo herds, many Cree were hungry. On March 30, a raiding party descended on the town of Battleford. The settlers evacuated and the Cree took the food and supplies they needed. There was relatively little violence, though a government Indian agent was shot and killed in a dispute.

A few days later, on April 2, another Cree raiding party under the leadership of Wandering Spirit attacked the village of Frog Lake, seizing supplies and prisoners. The raiders then tried to move their prisoners to another location, but the village Indian agent—who had a particularly bad reputation for his treatment of Indigenous people—refused. Wandering Spirit shot the Indian agent, and some of the raiders opened fire on other male prisoners, especially clergy. Cree leader Big Bear tried to stop this attack, but was not successful in time; nine settlers were killed.344 The deaths of civilian prisoners would provoke a strong reaction from the government and undermine the hopes that Big Bear and other leaders had for later negotiation.

Battleford and Frog Lake were easy targets for the Cree, but on April 15 they escalated and sent a force of two hundred fighters to attack Fort Pitt. Big Bear led this attack himself, wanting to avoid unnecessary violence while building a strong Indigenous confederacy. The Cree warriors easily surrounded Fort Pitt. The commander of the garrison was Francis Dickens (son of novelist Charles Dickens); Dickens surrendered to the Cree. Big Bear took a number of townspeople prisoner, released Dickens and his men, and then burned the fort down.

As the Cree were undertaking their successful attacks, the Métis were preparing for the arrival of Canadian reinforcements. When a provisional government had been declared by Louis Riel at the Red River Rebellion fifteen years earlier, the government had taken months to send troops. But new railroads had shortened the Canadian response time. In April, a force of nine hundred soldiers was sent to put down the Métis rebellion and destroy the provisional government.

Their arrival could have been delayed or hampered if Dumont had been allowed to attack the railroad tracks. Even after Canadian forces marched north from Qu’Appelle, Dumont’s excellent system of scouts and couriers kept him apprised of the column’s exact position. Woodcock explains:

Dumont and his captains had worked out a strategy of guerilla harassment that would undoubtedly have been as efficient as his information service. He proposed to send his men riding to the southeast so that they could blow up the railway tracks, destroy the bridges and prevent supplies and reinforcements reaching Middleton and his army. He also—as he said—‘proposed that we go ahead of the troops, harass them by night, and above all prevent them from sleeping, believing this was a good way to demoralize them and make them lose heart.’ Undoubtedly such tactics would have been extremely effective with the kind of green soldiers—the clerks and shopmen of Montreal and Toronto and Winnipeg—who were marching fearfully into the wilderness.345

Indeed, records show that Canadian troops were terrified the Métis would undertake exactly those kinds of actions.346 But Riel again refused, and instead demanded that Métis force be concentrated at the village of Batoche where, in his visions, he would emerge as a messiah. So the Canadian troops arrived in the area unhampered.

They brought with them a new piece of American military technology: the Gatling gun. A bulky weapon mounted on wheels, the Gatling gun was the first machine gun. It was crude by modern standards but highly dangerous, especially when the Métis lacked adequate arms themselves.

Dumont’s extensive network of scouts told him exactly where the Canadian force was marching, and by April 23 they had nearly reached the Métis capital of Batoche. Finally permitted to defend their territory, Dumont hastily prepared an ambush at a ravine on Fish Creek. About two hundred Métis fighters entrenched themselves in protected firing positions to wait for the arrival of the Canadian troops on April 24. Dumont modeled the ambush after buffalo hunts in which herds would be driven into pits and shot en masse.

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The battle did not go as planned. In part because there were not yet any leaves on the trees, the Canadians saw suspicious signs as they approached the ambush. Dumont was unable to trap them completely in the ravine. The Métis were hungry and low on ammunition, but their superior firing positions allowed them to sharp-shoot their enemies. Four Métis and two Dakota were killed, but ten Canadian soldiers were killed and forty-five wounded. Dumont’s small force was able to drive back the nine-hundred-strong Canadian force, causing them to retreat and delaying their advance on Batoche. The intensity of Dumont’s attack fooled the Canadians into believing they were being fired on by many more fighters than were actually present.

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Meanwhile, another column of four hundred Canadian troops was on the way to attack Indigenous people near Battleford. On May 2, they snuck up on a small camp by Cut Knife Hill that held Cree and Assiniboine warriors along with women and children. The Canadians set up their Gatling gun and two pieces of field artillery and opened fire on the camp. Warriors counterattacked immediately to allow the noncombatants in the camp to escape. Cree war chief Fine Day then coordinated a brilliant series of tactical maneuvers against the Canadian troops, using flanking maneuvers and surprise attacks from various sides to harry the troops.

The Indigenous side had only fifty combatants to use against four hundred Canadian soldiers. But despite being surprised, outnumbered, and outgunned, the Cree and Assiniboine had superior courage, knowledge of the terrain, and tactical ability. The Indigenous troops moved so quickly and quietly from position to position that the Canadian commander believed he was facing six hundred warriors. They fought for six hours—with an 8:1 combatant ratio in the settlers’ favor—before the Canadians fled. Only the intervention of Cree political chief Poundmaker stopped the Cree and Assiniboine fighters from riding after the Canadian troops and obliterating them as they retreated.347

Fine Day’s incredible success at Cut Knife Hill was the most dramatic rebel victory to date. It was also their last decisive victory against Canadian forces. Dumont had delayed the advance of Canadian troops near Batoche, but had not stopped them. Métis and Cree forces had showed their tactical superiority over Canadian forces again and again. It was strategy that was the problem.

Guerrilla strategy is based on mobility, concealment, and surprise. Logistically, it requires frequent small raids on the occupier to gather arms and supplies. But Riel forced the Métis to give up those advantages by sitting in Batoche and waiting for an inevitable attack at the enemy’s leisure. A lack of logistical raids meant that Métis fighters in Batoche were almost completely out of ammunition and spent the days prior to the Canadian attack melting down whatever lead they could find into improvised bullets. (By the end of the battle, they would be firing pebbles and bits of scrap metal from their guns.)

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Canadian troops approached Batoche by both land and water. Some were carried on the steamboat Northcote, a troop transport on the South Saskatchewan River. On May 8, Dumont’s fighters ambushed the boat as it neared Batoche. Dumont’s people fired on the deck so that the helmsman dove for cover and left the boat unsteered. They then pulled a cable tight across the river, which snapped off the boat’s smokestacks, putting it out of the battle. The Métis harassed the boat with occasional fire for several days as it drifted downriver, preventing repairs.348

But the majority of the Canadian force arrived by land and surrounded Batoche on May 9. The details of the defeat are too predictable to recount here. Suffice it to say that Canadian forces laid siege to the town for a week until the Métis had nothing left to fight with. Dumont and a handful of other fighters escaped. The town formally surrendered on May 15. Riel was captured, and later tried and executed.

Reportedly a number of Indigenous warriors were on the way to Batoche to join the fight, but turned back when they heard the town had surrendered. Woodcock writes: “These reports—if they have any basis in fact—suggest that if Dumont had taken decisive action in defiance of Riel immediately after the battle of Duck Lake, support would have come to him, and come in time to have some effect on events.”349

The fight wasn’t entirely over for the Cree. Once the militia arrived and secured Batoche, another force continued west along the river to deal with Poundmaker and Big Bear. With several thousand well-armed Canadian troops and police controlling the river (and their supply lines back to the railway unharassed), the Canadians were able to pursue the Cree fighters. Big Bear and the Cree defeated a detachment of NWMP at Frenchman’s Butte on May 28. But they were almost out of ammunition when confronted by another NWMP force on June 3 near Loon Lake, so they released the hostages they had previously taken, and retreated. Big Bear was captured a month later, and imprisoned.

It’s entirely possible that the conflict could have turned out very differently if a few people had made different decisions. Imagine if Riel had bowed to Dumont’s experience and allowed him to execute his original plan. Or if Dumont and the other Métis had brought Riel in as an adviser rather than a primary decision-maker. Or if Dumont and other militant elements had simply defied Riel, or asked Riel to step down and return to his family. As Woodcock argues, Fort Carlton and Prince Albert could have been taken easily with surprise attacks, and Battleford shortly after. English-speaking Métis would have joined the fight.350

Even later, there was still some hope if Dumont had sent fighters southwest to destroy railway and telegraph lines. Woodcock argues: “If there had been two or three successful derailments of trains with troops or goods destined for Qu’Appelle, and two or three ambushes that had shown the weakness of Middleton’s tactics and captured some of his weapons and supplies, it is unlikely that the restive [Cree] Chief Piapot would have remained inactive” which would have brought in the remaining Cree, and then Métis, Sioux, and those Assiniboine in the region who hadn’t yet joined, and perhaps the Blackfoot Confederacy.351

Woodcock observes: “Middleton’s army would have been entirely inadequate—in numbers and training alike—even to contain such a movement. [Prime Minister John A.] Macdonald would have been forced either to negotiate seriously or to face years of guerilla warfare for which the new Dominion was ill-equipped; the completion of the Canadian Pacific Railway would have been delayed indefinitely.”352 The history of what is now Western Canada could have turned out very differently.

Ideally, every action taken in a campaign will advance the overall strategy. It will build the capacity of the movement, or weaken those in power, or make tangible progress on the ultimate goal. The North-West Rebellion failed—even though the rebels won almost every engagement—because they lost strategic ground throughout the conflict as they slowly conceded their advantages.

Dumont and the Métis knew from experience and strategic insight what was needed. Their obstacle wasn’t thinking about strategy, but implementing it. Bringing together all of the pieces needed to implement a successful strategy is perhaps the biggest challenge of any resistance movement. But that’s the subject I turn to in the final chapter.