Critical Mass

Last Friday found me visiting a friend in York, England with surprisingly good weather, so naturally we grabbed the bikes and zipped down to the York Minster to join the Critical Mass gathering there.

Critical Mass (useful Wikipedia link) has all the qualities I like about Food not Bombs. It’s a spontaneous gathering of cyclists, usually on the last Friday of each month, who bike together on the streets for a while, sharing laughs and companionship, before going home. That’s it. It’s leaderless, with groups forming mainly by word of mouth, and everyone deciding together which route to take. It’s decentralized, so there’s absolutely no connection between groups in separate cities, despite the identical name. And it’s non-violent direct action, usually touted as a “political protest”, though even that description is somewhat open-ended. Some people come to protest the importance of cars and oil in today’s city, some for more general environmental reasons, some for health reasons, some to remind drivers that bikers share the roads too, or to push for bike-friendly laws or routes in the area, or just because a group ride is a fun thing to do. You tend to get quite an eclectic group of people, all there for different personal reasons, but sharing in the common goal of a group bike ride to advance The Cause, whatever that meant for each rider. All of which is awesome.

York is a pretty bike-friendly city, with numerous bike lanes* and generally friendly drivers who are used to crawling behind rickety old men on bikes instead of trying to force their way past them. That being said, it’s also a pretty small city, so the twenty or so riders we had was a pretty good show by all accounts. We ended up chatting with a couple who work in Holland most of the time, some students, a self-titled activist (who had a cart riding off the back wheel of his bike with some handy bungee cords and other essentials), two teenagers riding trick bikes, and a guy in semi-rasta wear who provided us with excellent music from a boombox he’d attached to the rack above his back tire. Bikes ranged from our old rusted freecycled ones, to big heavy Dutch bikes made for comfy city riding, to mountain bikes, to the afore-mentioned trick bikes. One lady opted to wear a sign that said “CAR(e) FREE”, and a couple of people had flags on their bikes that said “I [bike] YRK”. All in all, good company and a fun ride.

The streets are small enough that nearly all of them were just one lane in each direction with no median. Consequently we usually took up the whole lane and drivers behind us would have to stay in low gear behind us or wait for an opening to pass us in the opposite going lane. A few honked and we’d cheerfully wave back and ring our bells. (But all the police officers we passed, both in cars and on bikes, smiled at us and waved.) At one point I said outloud that I felt a little sorry for the drivers… maybe we ought to stay to the side of the road. (What can I say, I’m a big softie.)

“Kinda defeats the point, doesn’t it?” said my neighbor, referring to The Cause.

I guess. I know we certainly weren’t being overly rude by wanting to stay all together. After all, the law says bikes are subject to the same laws as cars, so it’s not like we could have all jumped up on the sidewalk. And we definitely lived up to the unofficial Critical Mass slogan of “We aren’t blocking traffic. We are traffic.” All twenty of us would signal turns all together. We’d wait patiently at stoplights. We wore reflective vests, helmets, and had bikes equipped with lights and reflectors, and handmade flags. (All of these things have been criticisms directed at other Critical Masses). To get across busy intersections with no lights, some of the veteran riders would ride out into the oncomming lanes of traffic to “cork” cars and let us pass safely and together. We were friendly and waved to everyone we passed including the kid who pulled down his pants for us.

I and my friend had so much fun that we rode back home discussing ways we could help start a Critical Mass ride where we’re from back in the States. Apparently there are none, or there were in the past but interest died out. Hopefully next year you’ll be hearing about some new Critical Mass rides in Texas. I can only hope they’ll turn out to be as polite as the York Critical Mass we took part of. Thanks, York!

*Cool bike lane fact: at every red light a bike lane is painted by the curb on the road starting about 10 meters before the intersection (if there isn’t one already) that then expands outward across the first lane just before the intersection. Cars must stop before this section, so that you’ll find the cars stopped at stoplights, the bikers ahead of those, and the pedestrian walkways ahead of those before you actually get into the intersection. This ensures that when lights turn green, the bikers get to go first without being pushed to the side of the road by eager cars. Love it.

food not bombs.

Ugh. There’s been several topics I’ve tried to write about, but keep getting stuck deleting and rewriting them. To save my poor brain, I’ll use an example that exemplifies a lot of my thoughts.

So, Food not Bombs. Yeah, sure, I’d heard the name. I figured they were a charity for a long time, and then, when I saw a brochure with some info in it, thought they were an idealist hippie vegan group.

Don’t worry. I know better now.

The name says it all, really, but Food Not Bombs isn’t your average run-of-the-mill war protest. The first group by that name started during a 1980 protest of the Seabrook nuclear power plant, where many people were using the slogan “Money For Food Not For Bombs”. Some people saw nuclear power as one very public face of our society’s militarism that was overtaking all government policies. FNB denounces so much money being spent on warfare and violence when not enough is done for the poor here. And hey, it’s a little hard to say no to a group of people promoting life over death.

But surely if there are people in America going hungry it’s because there’s not enough to go around? FNBers are convinced this is a lie of scarcity and have set out to convince others that America produces enough food to feed everyone and then some. Their website claims:

“in the average city, approximately 10% of all solid waste is food. This is an incredible total of 46 billion pounds nationally per year, or just under 200 pounds per person per year. Estimates indicate that only 4 billion pounds of food per year would be required to completely end hunger in America.”

To protest the waste and inequities produced by capitalism, they collect edible food, usually from supermarket dumpsters, and either send it to those oppressed by poverty, either in bulk to shelters and soup kitchens, or by preparing it themselves and serving it in the open to anyone who wants it. This is true equality — there are no hoops to jump through; you don’t have to prove you’re below a certain poverty level; you can be anyone from anywhere and share in the meal.

Besides promoting equality and, well, feeding the hungry over warfare, FNB highlights two others areas exploited by capitalism: the food industry and the environment. FNB is committed to serving only vegan foods, in part because spoiled veggies are easier to spot than spoiled meat, but also for a host of environmental reasons. Vegetarianism can feed more people on fewer resources. Supporting organic food encourages the development of non-genetically-enhanced (and therefore usually less nutritious and/or viable) and pesticide-free food. Supporting locally-grown food encourages local economy and weakens the hold of large agricultural corporations. Besides that, FNB obviously supports reuse of resources before they go to the landfills.

Aside from the awesome ethical stance FNBers take, I’m intrigued by the decentralized grassroots nature of the groups. Food Not Bombs makes a point of electing no leaders in any of its chapters. (In fact, calling them “chapters” is also misleading — these groups are not united by anything but name, an example of franchise activism where groups of individuals independently begin the same sort of movement under one name.) They consciously use consensus decision-making in a process where all must come to agreement before anything is decided. It takes longer than normal voting, but ensures that a tyranny of the majority doesn’t occur, and that all remain central and active participants in the group. They share the power of being involved too, and encourage any and all who are served to join them at any time.

These direct action and Do-It-Yourself (DIY for short) groups seem to me to be popping up more and more… or maybe it’s just that now I’ve gotten to a place in my life where I notice something more than my own four walls. Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking. No other form of organization seems as empowering nor as democratic (though I would say that in some cases, some sort of hierarchical arrangement is probably more practical).

I know that in most situations I still find myself deferring to someone, whether they’re an official leader or just the most charismatic and involved person in the group. In most groups where I’m encouraged to take initiative and bring something new, actually doing so will result in a “talk” (say, from a boss who has to explain why such-and-such is against companies policies) or it will tread into someone else’s territory (either that’s an area within their job description, or they’re just the one who has traditionally done similar projects. More often than not, I admit, I do nothing beyond what it expected of me, trying hard to live up to everyone’s various standards. Even in school clubs and organizations, where the rules are pretty relaxed, I find my brain so used to following orders that I can’t even think of a new direction to take the club’s interests. I add practically no value to the group besides nominally supporting them.

I find it uplifting to hear of people who have the courage to actually take the initiative, whether by feeding the homeless, starting a free bike repair shop, or even just learning a new skill. Maybe it’s time I got out of these four walls…