Having COVID, I'm feeling a lot of things. Tiredness is the main thing I'm feeling at the moment. But I'm also feeling things like guilt and shame over managing to get myself sick. Not because of anything said to me directly so much as things seen and heard in the background. Due in part to the divide between people who took the pandemic seriously and those who didn't, there seems to be a fair amount of social stigma and scorn, however passive, directed towards those who eventually become infected. People often assume they are unvaccinated or anti-mask or irresponsible and not doing what they can to avoid catching and spreading it. I've seen multiple examples of people making a point to note that they haven't caught it yet, wearing it as a badge of honour and distancing themselves from the rabble who have, pointing out that they're FULLY vaccinated and ALWAYS wear their masks and NEVER go anywhere, with the implications towards those who have it being obvious.
And I get it. It's been a real struggle to get people to take this virus seriously and take all the necessary precautions they can. Working in healthcare, I saw just how bad things could get and it terrified me. For two years, I've been upset at the mediocre government response and have tried to convince people I know who were on the fence to get vaccinated, including patients who were hesitant and asked me about it. But I couldn't run from it forever, and it finally caught up to me. And now I'm one of 'them.' And while I'm lucky that most of the people I know are supportive of me personally, I'm still seeing many say critical things of others who have gotten sick, or make it a point to announce yet again that they haven't gotten COVID for the hundredth time. And it's hard not to take some of that a little personally.
I feel judged to a certain degree. I feel ashamed. I feel unclean. I feel like I'm outside of the community in some way. It's definitely a struggle not to feel bad about myself for something that, in many ways, is beyond my control. My luck simply ran out. Yet it feels like more than that and that it's my sinfulness of some sort that's being punished. Moreover, few who champion their negative status seem to include in those declarations of viral purity any sort of acknowledgement of the luck and privilege that's assisted them, things like the ability to work from home and limit their exposure, living in a house rather than an apartment complex, having personal transportation rather than relying on public transit, not having family members who must go out and risk daily potential exposure (e.g., kids that have to go to school, partners that can't work from home, etc.), the money to order tests and the best masks and constantly have food and groceries delivered for the last two years so that they don't have the leave the house (and does anybody think about the poor people delivering these things?), etc. There's a whole lot of often overlooked luck and privilege involved in staying negative.
That said, I can't entirely begrudge the people who cling to their negative status. Our government has basically taken a personal responsibility approach rather than a systemic, coordinated effort to provide people with supplies; the financial ability to stay home; enact and enforce masking and vaccination mandates, social distancing, and quarantine measures; limit gathering, etc. For the most part, we've been forced to fend off infection during a global pandemic on our own, so there's a lot of pride to be had in not becoming infected, and our culture certainly enforces that. We're conditioned to see everything through the prisms of individualism and self-reliance; and if we've made it in life by getting the perfect job or have managed not to catch a contagious virus, we're made to feel that it's because we deserve it and have done what's required. We put in the hard work. We believed the right things. We have the intelligence and drive necessary for success. The world helps those who help themselves and pull themselves up by their bootstraps (and protect themselves with the boxes of N95s they had delivered from Amazon). And we're all susceptible to this narrative to some extent, and the more we have and the luckier we are, the more susceptible we tend to become.
It reminds me of the biblical Pharisees, who clung to their status of purity and distanced themselves from those they found to be impure, from lepers to the lowly peasants with low-paying and unsavory jobs that nevertheless made the society they lived in possible, quarantining themselves in their temples and wanting for little. They believed in their own righteousness and purity and used their 'cleanliness' both as proof of their own worthiness and as a hammer to strike against the worthiness of others, putting them in their place. It wasn't out of ill-will that they did so, though. It was out of fear of losing what they had and becoming contaminated by the impurities of the world they thought they could outrun, neither seeing how their luck and privilege gave them an advantage, nor how the unlcean were suffering because they were pushed to the margins of society (or even outside of it). It was a defense mechanism, one that appears to come more naturally to those who find themselves part of the 'haves' than the 'have nots.'
And we're not much different. I spent the last two years afraid of catching COVID, both because I was afraid of how sick it would make me and those around me if I spread it, and because I was afraid of being marked as unclean and judged for all the things I probably did wrong to get it. I wasn't as privileged as the Pharisees per se, but I considered myself one of the faithful and held to my negative status as something special, sacred even. And now that I've lost that, I'm somewhat relieved because the fear of getting it is no longer weighing upon me as it once was (although the fear of lasting effects still is), but I'm also struggling with my own feelings of loss and being impure and wondering if we'll ever create a society that manages to welcome, comfort, and care for everyone equally, regardless of their circumstances. And this isn't just about COVID, but any potential divisions we can use to uplift and malign ourselves and others.
Friday, February 4, 2022
Thursday, January 13, 2022
it's all about the people
This Twitter thread is a great observation. The text is as follows:
The pandemic is at least helping to unobscure some of the social relations normally hidden by the logic and functioning of capitalism. This is essentially the reality behind what Marx termed fetishism, i.e., "the way in which a situation hides what the real significance is" (David Harvey).
As Marx explains in relation to commodities in Capital vol. 1:
And some of that mystification is removed when we start to view things in the way Miriam Posner does, i.e., that "[E]very time you can’t find something, that’s a sick person. Every missing item, that’s a sick person. (People, really, but it’s hard to imagine 'people' in the abstract, and what COVID makes visible is that the supply chain is human beings.)"
While this may seem like commonsense, I don't think we naturally see it that way because our ingrained focus is primarily on the commodity and its price, availability, etc., while our relationship to it is generally through the commodity itself and its point of purchase, not all the human social labour behind it and embodied within it. Due to our societal habitus, we often have to make a conscious effort to reframe our perspective, which can have radical consequences. And in this case, it helps to rehumanize the labour we're conditioned by capitalist social relations to view in the abstract. And this, of course, is a small step towards increasing worker solidarity.
We can only challenge and effectively combat the social forces and institutions that exploit and oppress working people together. And that fight begins with an illumined consciousness (seeing how the system alienates and exploits us) and a sense of solidarity with other workers and groups of marginalized individuals who, ultimately, depend on each other for their collective emancipation.
It’s interesting to consider, re. supply-chain shortages, that COVID doesn’t infect machinery or transport; just people. So every time you can’t find something, that’s a sick person. Every missing item, that’s a sick person. (People, really, but it’s hard to imagine “people” in the abstract, and what COVID makes visible is that the supply chain is human beings.) I was thinking last night that we’ve been talking about supply-chain problems as a result of an epidemic, but ultimately they’re both the result of the same thing: the fact that we’re all connected to each other, despite what we might insist or wish. It's quite true that things like clogged ports and semiconductor shortages are real factors, and it requires a little bit of imagination to understand what this has to do with sick people. + But consider: physically, the ports are fine. The ships are fine. Why can't they be unloaded faster? Similarly, the raw materials for (e.g.) semiconductors exist, or we wouldn't be able to make them at all. Why can't we increase production to meet the need?
The pandemic is at least helping to unobscure some of the social relations normally hidden by the logic and functioning of capitalism. This is essentially the reality behind what Marx termed fetishism, i.e., "the way in which a situation hides what the real significance is" (David Harvey).
As Marx explains in relation to commodities in Capital vol. 1:
A commodity is therefore a mysterious thing, simply because in it the social character of men’s labour appears to them as an objective character stamped upon the product of that labour; because the relation of the producers to the sum total of their own labour is presented to them as a social relation, existing not between themselves, but between the products of their labour. This is the reason why the products of labour become commodities, social things whose qualities are at the same time perceptible and imperceptible by the senses. In the same way the light from an object is perceived by us not as the subjective excitation of our optic nerve, but as the objective form of something outside the eye itself. But, in the act of seeing, there is at all events, an actual passage of light from one thing to another, from the external object to the eye. There is a physical relation between physical things. But it is different with commodities. There, the existence of the things quâ commodities, and the value relation between the products of labour which stamps them as commodities, have absolutely no connection with their physical properties and with the material relations arising therefrom. There it is a definite social relation between men, that assumes, in their eyes, the fantastic form of a relation between things. In order, therefore, to find an analogy, we must have recourse to the mist-enveloped regions of the religious world. In that world the productions of the human brain appear as independent beings endowed with life, and entering into relation both with one another and the human race. So it is in the world of commodities with the products of men’s hands. This I call the Fetishism which attaches itself to the products of labour, so soon as they are produced as commodities, and which is therefore inseparable from the production of commodities.
And some of that mystification is removed when we start to view things in the way Miriam Posner does, i.e., that "[E]very time you can’t find something, that’s a sick person. Every missing item, that’s a sick person. (People, really, but it’s hard to imagine 'people' in the abstract, and what COVID makes visible is that the supply chain is human beings.)"
While this may seem like commonsense, I don't think we naturally see it that way because our ingrained focus is primarily on the commodity and its price, availability, etc., while our relationship to it is generally through the commodity itself and its point of purchase, not all the human social labour behind it and embodied within it. Due to our societal habitus, we often have to make a conscious effort to reframe our perspective, which can have radical consequences. And in this case, it helps to rehumanize the labour we're conditioned by capitalist social relations to view in the abstract. And this, of course, is a small step towards increasing worker solidarity.
We can only challenge and effectively combat the social forces and institutions that exploit and oppress working people together. And that fight begins with an illumined consciousness (seeing how the system alienates and exploits us) and a sense of solidarity with other workers and groups of marginalized individuals who, ultimately, depend on each other for their collective emancipation.
Wednesday, December 29, 2021
just fucking look up already
Besides more people being vaccinated, which is good, things are worse this year than last. Cases are skyrocketing. Hospitalizations are going up while hospital beds are full and there isn't room for other needy patients. Healthcare workers are burnt out. Meanwhile, the CDC has cut the number of days for sick people to quarantine in half, and our government has done little to curb this surge, relying on people to just magically stop it themselves.
While it would be nice if more people took this seriously and were more proactive, governments can't and shouldn't just rely on people hopefully doing what's needed to prevent global pandemics. Consistent and aggressive measures need to be taken. Clear and universal guidelines and mandates need to be made and communicated. And they have to be enforced. Otherwise, things will continue to spread and mutate and spread until our current vaccines are effectively useless. Even if politicians lose elections, they should be focused on preventing the spread and saving lives. And the CDC needs to do more than adjust guidelines to appease political-economic demands and expectations. People are more important than the economy. People are the economy and should be the priority, but it sure as hell feels like corporate bottom lines and the opinions of obstinate opponents of strict quarantine measures have more weight at the moment. And I'm really pissed and disappointed about that.
Things didn't have to get this bad. This was preventable. But this is what happens when people in positions of power and authority don't give a shit because doing what's needed to protect people and saves lives costs them approval points and money and they just don't care enough about people in comparison to our GDP and the profit margins of corporate donors to do the right thing. This is just like Don't Look Up. Just replace comet with COVID. People have to demand better. We need systemic solutions to systemic problems, not reliance on every individual to do what's needed without material help and government coordination.
Every infection and death is a weight on my heart, and an indictment of our society and the unwillingness of those in power to do everything they can to help prevent them. I can't express how furious this makes me or that they've been making the same mistakes for two years. Our government's obsession with the economy and the hyper-individualistic morality that dominates both our culture and politics are murderous. I don't know how I'm mentally going to survive another year of this.
While it would be nice if more people took this seriously and were more proactive, governments can't and shouldn't just rely on people hopefully doing what's needed to prevent global pandemics. Consistent and aggressive measures need to be taken. Clear and universal guidelines and mandates need to be made and communicated. And they have to be enforced. Otherwise, things will continue to spread and mutate and spread until our current vaccines are effectively useless. Even if politicians lose elections, they should be focused on preventing the spread and saving lives. And the CDC needs to do more than adjust guidelines to appease political-economic demands and expectations. People are more important than the economy. People are the economy and should be the priority, but it sure as hell feels like corporate bottom lines and the opinions of obstinate opponents of strict quarantine measures have more weight at the moment. And I'm really pissed and disappointed about that.
Things didn't have to get this bad. This was preventable. But this is what happens when people in positions of power and authority don't give a shit because doing what's needed to protect people and saves lives costs them approval points and money and they just don't care enough about people in comparison to our GDP and the profit margins of corporate donors to do the right thing. This is just like Don't Look Up. Just replace comet with COVID. People have to demand better. We need systemic solutions to systemic problems, not reliance on every individual to do what's needed without material help and government coordination.
Every infection and death is a weight on my heart, and an indictment of our society and the unwillingness of those in power to do everything they can to help prevent them. I can't express how furious this makes me or that they've been making the same mistakes for two years. Our government's obsession with the economy and the hyper-individualistic morality that dominates both our culture and politics are murderous. I don't know how I'm mentally going to survive another year of this.
Friday, December 24, 2021
merry x-mas
While having its roots in, and combining various elements of, pagan winter solstice celebrations, Christmas traditionally commemorates the birth of Jesus. And the more I contemplate what it is I admire about the life of Jesus, the more I think it boils down to the overarching theme of restoring community and repairing the brokenness we find in ourselves and the world. Almost every aspect of his example and message seems to point to this singular goal.
From the more abstract idea of the universal Christ manifested in the universal church (Gal 3:28), to the greater part of his words and actions and those of his disciplines, everything ultimately points to this idea of healing and restoration out of a seemingly inexhaustible source of compassion and love that we're encouraged to develop and tap into. Loving others as ourselves (Mt 22:35-40). Do to others as you would have them do to you (Lk 6:31). Forgiving seventy-seven times (Mt 18:21-35). Giving food to the hungry, drink to the thirsty, welcome to the stranger, clothes to the naked, and care to those who are ill or imprisoned (Mt 25:31-46). Leveling inequality, both social (Mt 25:31-46) and economic (Mt 19:16-30). Bringing back into the community all those who were reviled or pushed to the margins of society by dominant power structures, from marginalized ethnic groups (Jn 4:4-42), lepers (Mt 8:1-4), sex workers (Lk 7:36-50), and tax collectors (Lk 15:1-7) to sinners (Mk 2:13-17), the poor, and those with disabilities (Lk 14:7-24). Throwing down rulers from their thrones and lifting up the lowly (Lk 1:46-55). Etc.
The story of Jesus is a meditation on saving the world from itself and its contradictions, hypocrisies, and modes of oppression—an intersectional meditation that's supposed to inspire hope, reflection, and action. What we're asked to repent of is our unskillful actions, the harm that we directly cause through greed, anger, and ignorance or indirectly support with our complacency and nonaction. And what we're encouraged to celebrate is our own potential for goodness and the example of those both real and mythical who show us the way to fulfill that goodness—the prophets who light the way with their words, deeds, and warnings, the shepherds who guide us and lead the way forward as we work together to restore our community and repair our relationships with ourselves and one another. And I think this idea is reflected most beautifully and succinctly in Teresa of Avila's poem:
The spirit of Christ is resurrected in these moments. Every time we hold out our hand to lift someone up. Every time we care for another person who's sick, in prison, or in mourning. Every time we give of ourselves when others are in need. Every time we choose to forgive rather than to condemn. Every time we cultivate compassion and understanding rather than be overcome by anger and fear. Every time we seek reconciliation over estrangement. Every time we embrace peace over violence. Every time we make someone else's suffering our own and seek to do what we can to ease it or shoulder it ourselves. Every time we challenge modes of harm and oppression. Every time we elect to side with the oppressed. Every time we choose to include others into our lives and welcome them into our communities.
That's the moral of this story to me and what we're truly called to honour and celebrate. God is love, and love exists in our hearts when we're in relationship with others.
From the more abstract idea of the universal Christ manifested in the universal church (Gal 3:28), to the greater part of his words and actions and those of his disciplines, everything ultimately points to this idea of healing and restoration out of a seemingly inexhaustible source of compassion and love that we're encouraged to develop and tap into. Loving others as ourselves (Mt 22:35-40). Do to others as you would have them do to you (Lk 6:31). Forgiving seventy-seven times (Mt 18:21-35). Giving food to the hungry, drink to the thirsty, welcome to the stranger, clothes to the naked, and care to those who are ill or imprisoned (Mt 25:31-46). Leveling inequality, both social (Mt 25:31-46) and economic (Mt 19:16-30). Bringing back into the community all those who were reviled or pushed to the margins of society by dominant power structures, from marginalized ethnic groups (Jn 4:4-42), lepers (Mt 8:1-4), sex workers (Lk 7:36-50), and tax collectors (Lk 15:1-7) to sinners (Mk 2:13-17), the poor, and those with disabilities (Lk 14:7-24). Throwing down rulers from their thrones and lifting up the lowly (Lk 1:46-55). Etc.
The story of Jesus is a meditation on saving the world from itself and its contradictions, hypocrisies, and modes of oppression—an intersectional meditation that's supposed to inspire hope, reflection, and action. What we're asked to repent of is our unskillful actions, the harm that we directly cause through greed, anger, and ignorance or indirectly support with our complacency and nonaction. And what we're encouraged to celebrate is our own potential for goodness and the example of those both real and mythical who show us the way to fulfill that goodness—the prophets who light the way with their words, deeds, and warnings, the shepherds who guide us and lead the way forward as we work together to restore our community and repair our relationships with ourselves and one another. And I think this idea is reflected most beautifully and succinctly in Teresa of Avila's poem:
Christ has no body now but yours. No hands, no feet on earth but yours.
Yours are the eyes through which he looks compassion on this world.
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good.
Yours are the hands through which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet, yours are the eyes, you are his body.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours.
The spirit of Christ is resurrected in these moments. Every time we hold out our hand to lift someone up. Every time we care for another person who's sick, in prison, or in mourning. Every time we give of ourselves when others are in need. Every time we choose to forgive rather than to condemn. Every time we cultivate compassion and understanding rather than be overcome by anger and fear. Every time we seek reconciliation over estrangement. Every time we embrace peace over violence. Every time we make someone else's suffering our own and seek to do what we can to ease it or shoulder it ourselves. Every time we challenge modes of harm and oppression. Every time we elect to side with the oppressed. Every time we choose to include others into our lives and welcome them into our communities.
That's the moral of this story to me and what we're truly called to honour and celebrate. God is love, and love exists in our hearts when we're in relationship with others.
Friday, December 17, 2021
the sky is falling
I don't want to sound like some sort of alarmist scaremonger here, but COVID infection rates are on the rise, there's little-to-no help from the federal government and many local governments are still pretty free and loose with mask and vaccination mandates, a lot of people are out and acting like the pandemic is over, people are going to be travelling for the holidays, and new variants are popping up because not enough is being done to vaccinate the global population and enforce protective measures. In addition, there's a growing crisis in our healthcare system beyond the fact that it's expensive and inefficient compared to universal systems, and I'm afraid that it's close to its breaking point. There are shortages everywhere. MAs. RNs. PAs. Doctors. Phlebotomists. Lab techs. Respiratory therapists. Pharmacists. Pharmacy techs. Etc. Wait times for everything are long and getting longer. Places are short-staffed and people overworked. Many are retiring or quitting due the stress and lack of appropriate compensation. And there aren't nearly enough new people coming in to take their place. This may not affect young/healthy people as much in the short-term, but it's definitely affecting people with chronic medical conditions and those with acute needs. On top of that, many other sectors are having issues finding people to fill positions, often because many aren't willing to work for the amount employers are offering, and there are massive supply chain issues due to this, COVID, and a number of other factors. What we need right now are strong, universal mandates for masking and vaccinations, an overhaul of our healthcare system, and a resurgent labour movement to help support workers and make wages for all these jobs worth the labour we must put into them. These are all big projects, but they're necessary if we want to stop huge numbers of people from dying and things collapsing. Because they're very close to it. Everything is so interconnected and tenuous that we're looking at something truly terrifying happening in the near future. People are still dying at alarming rates from COVID. The economy isn't as stable as they make it sound, especially with the debt market the way it is combined with lack of government assistance, labour issues due to low wages and overwork, and supply chain issues. And seeing as how our government doesn't seem to care about anything besides the military and stock market, we're going to have to rely on ourselves and mutual aid to weather this storm. So support unions, striking workers, and neighbours. Don't cross picket lines. Try to be as safe and proactive as possible. Wear masks all the time and make sure you get vaccinated. And hope for a miracle.
Sunday, December 12, 2021
sunday thought
Sunday thought. 🤔
One of the biggest contradictions inherent to capitalism is the institution of private property rights. Essentially, socially-created wealth is communal property, but it's treated as if it's not. All of our labour that goes into the production and distribution of the goods and services that are necessary to make our social life and reproduction possible — and which includes expenditure of our energy, use of our creative mental energies, use of natural resources that are all of our inheritance, etc. — creates the extra wealth that finds its way into the pockets of owners and that we measure through concepts such as GDP. That wealth is socially created, and logically should be socially accessible. But under capitalism, it's not—it's primarily accessible to those few who own and control it.
This leads to inequality since much of what we call profit is, in actuality, uncompensated labour kept by capital. And rather than equitably distributing this surplus wealth and/or giving the majority of working people a say in how it's used, invested, etc., it's allowed to accumulate in the hands of a few who own and control, though various legal fictions with the threat of state violence backing them, the fruits of our collective labour and the use of our communal infrastructure and natural resources. To counteract this and help resolve the worst of the inequality this engenders, wealth needs to be socialized, workplaces need to be democratized, and the institution of private property needs to be replaced by an institution of common property relying on democratic mechanisms for support rather than state violence.
In a perfect world, right? 🤷♀️
One of the biggest contradictions inherent to capitalism is the institution of private property rights. Essentially, socially-created wealth is communal property, but it's treated as if it's not. All of our labour that goes into the production and distribution of the goods and services that are necessary to make our social life and reproduction possible — and which includes expenditure of our energy, use of our creative mental energies, use of natural resources that are all of our inheritance, etc. — creates the extra wealth that finds its way into the pockets of owners and that we measure through concepts such as GDP. That wealth is socially created, and logically should be socially accessible. But under capitalism, it's not—it's primarily accessible to those few who own and control it.
This leads to inequality since much of what we call profit is, in actuality, uncompensated labour kept by capital. And rather than equitably distributing this surplus wealth and/or giving the majority of working people a say in how it's used, invested, etc., it's allowed to accumulate in the hands of a few who own and control, though various legal fictions with the threat of state violence backing them, the fruits of our collective labour and the use of our communal infrastructure and natural resources. To counteract this and help resolve the worst of the inequality this engenders, wealth needs to be socialized, workplaces need to be democratized, and the institution of private property needs to be replaced by an institution of common property relying on democratic mechanisms for support rather than state violence.
In a perfect world, right? 🤷♀️
Sunday, November 7, 2021
workers of the world, unite!
From The Guardian:
America's strike wave is a rare – and beautiful – sight to behold
Individually, workers are at the mercy of employers' whims. But when they combined their voices and the withholding of their labour power, employers find themselves at their mercy. Workers are stronger together, and strikes are a means by which workers can win their demands, whether it's higher pay, better working conditions, improved benefits, etc.
And strikes can also be a means of further radicalizing workers and make them see not only their strength in solidarity, but their worth and the worth of their labour power, emboldening them to throw off the shackles of capital and reclaim the ownership of that labour power and its fruits. Demands could (and should) go beyond things like pay scales and include things like mechanisms of meaningful worker control, ownership, and decision-making. That's one of the reasons employers and the state expend so much time and effort trying to bust unions and crush strikes—their interference with the realization of profit (the lifeblood of capital) and their potential for worker empowerment.
As Luis Feliz Leon wrote earlier this year, "The language of a strike wave is the language of radical optimism in the face of untenable conditions." And the more support these striking workers have, from us and from the people we elect, and the more radical their leadership, the bigger their victories will be and the more they'll inspire others to do likewise. Small scale strikes, like those at individual workplaces, can win better wages and working conditions as many of these strike victories illustrate. But large scale strikes, such as general strikes, can win us even more, like a better socioeconomic system. Our solidarity is our greatest strength, and our labour power is our greatest weapon to effect change.
America's strike wave is a rare – and beautiful – sight to behold
Individually, workers are at the mercy of employers' whims. But when they combined their voices and the withholding of their labour power, employers find themselves at their mercy. Workers are stronger together, and strikes are a means by which workers can win their demands, whether it's higher pay, better working conditions, improved benefits, etc.
And strikes can also be a means of further radicalizing workers and make them see not only their strength in solidarity, but their worth and the worth of their labour power, emboldening them to throw off the shackles of capital and reclaim the ownership of that labour power and its fruits. Demands could (and should) go beyond things like pay scales and include things like mechanisms of meaningful worker control, ownership, and decision-making. That's one of the reasons employers and the state expend so much time and effort trying to bust unions and crush strikes—their interference with the realization of profit (the lifeblood of capital) and their potential for worker empowerment.
As Luis Feliz Leon wrote earlier this year, "The language of a strike wave is the language of radical optimism in the face of untenable conditions." And the more support these striking workers have, from us and from the people we elect, and the more radical their leadership, the bigger their victories will be and the more they'll inspire others to do likewise. Small scale strikes, like those at individual workplaces, can win better wages and working conditions as many of these strike victories illustrate. But large scale strikes, such as general strikes, can win us even more, like a better socioeconomic system. Our solidarity is our greatest strength, and our labour power is our greatest weapon to effect change.
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