Speaker 1: Cool Zone Media book Club book Club book Club. Hello
Speaker 1: and welcome to cools On Media book Club, the only
Speaker 1: book club where you have to chant, but at the
Speaker 1: beginning of it, the only book club that's ever been
Speaker 1: devised that way. I'm your host, Margaret Kiljoy, and each
Speaker 1: week I bring you stories about different things. And this
Speaker 1: week I'm going to continue where we were last week.
Speaker 1: From where we were last week. I'm going to continue
Speaker 1: from where we were last week, which is that we
Speaker 1: were reading a bunch of different fables as it were
Speaker 1: written by Ricardo floresmcgon, who, if you didn't listen to
Speaker 1: last week's or don't know who that is, was a
Speaker 1: Mexican revolutionary, one of the main ideological thinkers of the
Speaker 1: Liberal Party prior to the Mexican Revolution, and ironically, the
Speaker 1: Liberal Party was the anarchist party because political terminology is
Speaker 1: almost meaningless. And before and after mcgone helped with a
Speaker 1: lot of other people stage a massive uprising to try
Speaker 1: and bring power directly to workers and peasants and things
Speaker 1: like that across Mexico. He wrote a lot, and he
Speaker 1: worked with a newspaper that he and other people ran
Speaker 1: called Regeneracy on Regeneration, and he wrote a lot of parables,
Speaker 1: and so we're gonna we're gonna keep reading some of
Speaker 1: those parables because I find them interesting. I also find
Speaker 1: them heavy handed, which is absolutely this is not the
Speaker 1: political way that I have any interest in writing. Personally.
Speaker 1: I find it really instructive to see the ways that
Speaker 1: different types of political fiction writers have written throughout the years.
Speaker 1: And I don't want to make this like sweeping generalization
Speaker 1: that like, oh, one hundred years ago, before you know,
Speaker 1: Ursula Gwynn, people didn't ever bother having any subtlety or
Speaker 1: self critique in their political writing, because that's actually not
Speaker 1: the case at all, you know. I hope we get
Speaker 1: to talk about it more at some point. But this
Speaker 1: whole thing, where as far as I can tell, if
Speaker 1: you were in the literature scene of France in the
Speaker 1: eighteen nineties and early aughts, you know, you pretty much
Speaker 1: were an anarchist, the same way that if you were
Speaker 1: a punk in the nineteen nineties and early aughts in
Speaker 1: the US, you know, if you wanted to be taken seriously,
Speaker 1: that's what you were. And I believe that the people
Speaker 1: writing that kind of literature saw themselves first and foremost
Speaker 1: as literature writers. You know, an Oscar Wilde was a
Speaker 1: very good example of an anarchist fiction writer who certainly
Speaker 1: did not make his fiction bend to his political project.
Speaker 1: And we talked about it a bit in episodes that
Speaker 1: we did about Oscar wild But he actually very specifically
Speaker 1: believed that you didn't have art for socialism's sake, you
Speaker 1: had socialism for art's sake, because he wanted everyone to
Speaker 1: have the sort of free time in lives of leisure
Speaker 1: that more people can have when we actually share the
Speaker 1: bounty of this earth, so that they can create things. Anyway.
Speaker 1: This first story that I'm going to read by Macgon
Speaker 1: is called Justice, and is from nineteen fourteen. This one's
Speaker 1: real subtle. The governor, the capitalist, and the priest rested
Speaker 1: that afternoon in the shadow of an ash tree, which
Speaker 1: glowed vigorously in the canyon of the mountain range. The capitalist,
Speaker 1: visibly agitated, mashed the pulp of a red booklet between
Speaker 1: his hands, and said, between sigh and sigh, all has
Speaker 1: been lost. My fields, my cattle, my mills, my factories.
Speaker 1: Everything is now controlled by the revolutionaries. The governor, trembling
Speaker 1: with rage, said it has ended. Now no one respects
Speaker 1: authority and the priest elevated his eyes to the sky
Speaker 1: and said, remorsefully, wicked reason, she has murdered faith. The
Speaker 1: three pillars of society, thought, thought, and thought. The previous night,
Speaker 1: some fifty revolutionaries had invaded the village. The working class
Speaker 1: of the area had received them with open arms. While
Speaker 1: the town was searching for the governor, the capitalist, and
Speaker 1: the priest to demand from them a strict account of
Speaker 1: their actions, they fled to the canyon seeking refuge. Our
Speaker 1: empire over the masses has ended, said the governor and
Speaker 1: the capitalist in one voice. The priest smiled and said,
Speaker 1: in a convinced tone, do not worry yourselves. Clearly faith
Speaker 1: has lost some ground. However, I assure you that by
Speaker 1: means of religion, we can recuperate all that we have lost.
Speaker 1: First of all, it appears that the ideas contained in
Speaker 1: this evil booklet have triumphed in the village. They will
Speaker 1: certainly triumph if we remain inactive. I do not deny
Speaker 1: that these wicked ideas enjoy sympathy among the people. However,
Speaker 1: others refuse them, especially the ideas that directly attack religion.
Speaker 1: Among these last people, we must foment a reactionary movement. Fortunately,
Speaker 1: the three of us could escape. If we had perished
Speaker 1: in the hands of the revolutionaries, the old institutions would
Speaker 1: have died with us. The capitalist and the governor felt
Speaker 1: as if they had been liberated from a terrible burden.
Speaker 1: Inspired by greed, the capitalist's eyes drizzled. How how would
Speaker 1: it be possible for him to enjoy again the possession
Speaker 1: of his fields, his cattle, his mills, and his factories.
Speaker 1: Hadn't it all been just a cruel nightmare? Would he
Speaker 1: return to having the entire population of his district under
Speaker 1: his power thanks to the good minister of religion? And
Speaker 1: standing up, he shook his fist in the direction of
Speaker 1: the village, whose farm houses glowed brightly under the rays
Speaker 1: of the may sun. The governor, emotional said, with conviction,
Speaker 1: I have always believed that religion is the most solid
Speaker 1: support of the principle of authority. Religion teaches that God
Speaker 1: is the first leader and that governors are his lieutenants
Speaker 1: on earth. Religion condemns rebellion because it considers governors to
Speaker 1: be above the people by will of God. Long live religion.
Speaker 1: Enamored by his own words, the governor snatched the red
Speaker 1: booklet from the hands of the capitalist, tearing it to
Speaker 1: pieces and throwing the scraps at the village, as if
Speaker 1: challenging the noble insurrectionary proletariats dogs. He cried, receive this
Speaker 1: with my saliva. The bits of paper were blown by
Speaker 1: the air, flying cheerfully like Butterfli's plane. It was the
Speaker 1: manifesto of September twenty third, nineteen eleven. The first shadows
Speaker 1: of the night began to descend upon the valley. Through
Speaker 1: the twilight could be seen a red flag rippling on
Speaker 1: top of a small house in the village. It flaunted
Speaker 1: in white letters, this inscription land and liberty. The governor,
Speaker 1: the capitalist, and the priest cried out, shaking their fists
Speaker 1: towards the village, nest of vipers, we will soon crush you.
Speaker 1: The last brush strokes of the sun still shone, emitting
Speaker 1: from the west. While disappearing, the frogs began their customary serenade, free, happy,
Speaker 1: ignorant of the miseries that make men suffer. In the
Speaker 1: ash tree, a pair of mocking birds sang to each
Speaker 1: other of their free love without judges, without priests, without clerks.
Speaker 1: The gentle beauty of the hour invited the human heart,
Speaker 1: to expose all its tortures and to materialize all its
Speaker 1: sentiments in a work of art, making the rocks shudder.
Speaker 1: A formidable cry rolled through the dale. Who lives? The governor,
Speaker 1: the capitalist, and the priest trembled, foreseeing their end. The
Speaker 1: night had finally come, shrouding everything in blackness. The mocking
Speaker 1: birds hushed up, the frogs down. A gust of wind
Speaker 1: stirred the bows of the ash in a sinister manner,
Speaker 1: and the awful darkness A resonating, fateful cry returned. Who lives?
Speaker 1: The three pillars of society remembered all their crimes in
Speaker 1: a second. They had enjoyed all the delicacies of life
Speaker 1: at the expense of the suffering of humble people. They
Speaker 1: had sustained the ignorance and misery of humanity in order
Speaker 1: to satisfy their appetites. A sound of energetic footsteps drew
Speaker 1: closer to them. It was the soldiers of the people,
Speaker 1: the soldiers of the social revolution. A discharge of rifle
Speaker 1: shots felled the representatives of the hydra with three heads, Authority, Capital,
Speaker 1: and Church. And that's the end of the first story.
Speaker 1: But do you know what's not the end of you're
Speaker 1: not free from You're not free from advertisers because you
Speaker 1: have not had a social revolution that freed you from
Speaker 1: this yoke. And so here you are listening to ads. Well,
Speaker 1: unless you have the social revolution of having cooler zone media,
Speaker 1: in which case you don't have to listen to ads.
Speaker 1: You just get to listen to ad pivots, which is
Speaker 1: the most fun part of the show for me. And
Speaker 1: we're back, so okay. Rather than talking about them all
Speaker 1: the en I wan't talk about that last story really quickly.
Speaker 1: One of the things that I find so interesting about
Speaker 1: this story, there was this very strong conception in anarchist
Speaker 1: thought and a lot of you know, revolutionary movements that
Speaker 1: was specifically like these are the three heads authority, like
Speaker 1: the state, capital, and the church, and these are very
Speaker 1: reasonable positions to have. And what's interesting is that if
Speaker 1: you look at some of the antecedents, like if you
Speaker 1: look at like the modern Zapatistas, which I'm currently doing
Speaker 1: a deep dive on on my show Cool People Who
Speaker 1: Did Cool Stuff, one of the things I found really
Speaker 1: fascinating is that when this appetist we're naming their territories.
Speaker 1: These are folks who have a bunch of autonomous territories
Speaker 1: in Chiapas, the southeastern most state in Mexico. It's an
Speaker 1: indigenous run area basically that they that they control, and
Speaker 1: they named a lot of their municipalities all of these
Speaker 1: different things, and they named one of them Ricardo Floris Macgone,
Speaker 1: after the author of this text, not because he wrote
Speaker 1: this text, but because he was an important thinker in
Speaker 1: this tempted social revolution of you know, the nineteen oths.
Speaker 1: But one of the other municipalities is named after San
Speaker 1: Juan the Liberator, and you know, is named after the
Speaker 1: first saint who is indigenous to North America. And there's
Speaker 1: not necessarily the same antagonism towards the church, but actually
Speaker 1: within this Bapatista camp, but there's also not necessarily the
Speaker 1: same antagonism towards government. They perceive the idea of government
Speaker 1: as upside down from the way that normal society does,
Speaker 1: where they believe that you know, the people rule and
Speaker 1: the government follows is like their big thing, right, and
Speaker 1: they've set up a lot of structures around that. And
Speaker 1: so you have this like movement that grew out of
Speaker 1: a lot of different movements, and one of the things
Speaker 1: that it grew out of was the liberation theology movement,
Speaker 1: and so I just find it fascinating how movements ebb
Speaker 1: and flow in the way that we frame these fairly
Speaker 1: important questions, and yet we're still part of the same
Speaker 1: movement on some level. The Sapatistas, their famous thing is
Speaker 1: that they fight for a world in which many worlds
Speaker 1: are possible, and I fucking love that, and I think
Speaker 1: they're great. Anyway, let me read you another story Rewarding
Speaker 1: Merits nineteen sixteen. The prison and the temple chat secretly,
Speaker 1: like two cronies who are tied together more by the
Speaker 1: nooses of crime than those of friendship. From the citadel
Speaker 1: escapes the stench of rotting cattle. From the temple emerges
Speaker 1: a few laden with dismay, saturated with swooning, like the
Speaker 1: mouth of a cave in whose darkness all the dehabilitated
Speaker 1: grovel and all the impotent wring their arms. I abhor
Speaker 1: the people, says the citadel, yawning. However, I bestow my
Speaker 1: consideration and respect to the worthy, distinguished people whose interests
Speaker 1: I shield. Each time the honorable guardian of order brings
Speaker 1: me a new guest, I shiver with emotion. My satisfaction climaxes.
Speaker 1: When I feel more and more criminals stirring within my
Speaker 1: stone belly, there is a pause. Through the bars can
Speaker 1: be heard jangles of shackles, murmurs of protests, cracks of horsewhips,
Speaker 1: bullying voices of authority, amid the wheezing of harassed beasts,
Speaker 1: all of the horrible noises that form the horrible music
Speaker 1: of the prison. Great is your mission, my friend, the prison,
Speaker 1: says the temple. I reverently bow my tap before you.
Speaker 1: I also feel satisfied to be the shield of distinguished people.
Speaker 1: Whereas you en chain the body of the criminal, I
Speaker 1: break the will of the people. I castraate their energy.
Speaker 1: Whereas you lift up a wall of stone between the
Speaker 1: hand of the poor and the treasures of the rich,
Speaker 1: I invent the fires of hell, putting them between the
Speaker 1: cupidity of the miserably poor and the gold of the bourgeoisie.
Speaker 1: There is a pause. Through the windows, and the doors
Speaker 1: enter the aromas of incense and the fetid perspiration of
Speaker 1: the clustered cattle. From the blue space emerges sounds of sobbing,
Speaker 1: of supplications. A vile racket created by all the deabilitated people,
Speaker 1: and all the penitents, the abject music of the submissive
Speaker 1: and the defeated. As long as I remain standing, the
Speaker 1: Master sleeps tranquility. The prison says, while there are knees
Speaker 1: that touch my tiles, the Master's power will remain standing,
Speaker 1: says the temple. There is a pause. The prison and
Speaker 1: the temple appear to meditate, the first satisfied for enchaining
Speaker 1: the body, the second content for enchaining consciousness, both of
Speaker 1: them proud of their merits. In the corner of a
Speaker 1: small cave, some dynamite overhears their conversation, powerfully restraining its
Speaker 1: forces so that it does not explode from indignation. Wait,
Speaker 1: it says to itself. Wait, monuments of barbarism, for the
Speaker 1: bold hand that will unleash the blast from my bosom
Speaker 1: will arrive sooner than you think. In the belly of
Speaker 1: misery convulses the fetus of rebellion. Wait, wait for the
Speaker 1: fruit of centuries of exploitation and tyranny. The black phalanxes
Speaker 1: of men consume the last swallows of bitterness and sadness.
Speaker 1: The glass of patience overflows some more drops, and all
Speaker 1: the indignations will overflow. All the angers will leap out
Speaker 1: of their jail cells, all the audacities will transgress their limits, weight,
Speaker 1: somber edifices, cellars of agony. For in the Great Calendar
Speaker 1: of human suffering flares with colors of fire and blood,
Speaker 1: a red date, a new July fourteenth for all the bastilles,
Speaker 1: those of the body and those of the consciousness. The
Speaker 1: cattle are standing up, converting themselves into men. Soon the
Speaker 1: sun will stop toasting the backs of the herd to
Speaker 1: illuminate the fronts of free men. Weight. You will remain
Speaker 1: standing only as long as I stay in this corner.
Speaker 1: But they forgot about the third pillar that keeps people,
Speaker 1: the fourth pillar that keeps people in line. Who could
Speaker 1: that be anyway unrelated? Here's some ads and we're back.
Speaker 1: I talked about this a little bit on the last one.
Speaker 1: There's a certain kind of bitterness or sadness in mcgon's
Speaker 1: writing this period. Right, he's had this great revolution and lost,
Speaker 1: you know, I mean, they did a lot of good work,
Speaker 1: but the thing that they ended up laying the groundwork
Speaker 1: for was the Mexican Revolution, which was captured fairly soon.
Speaker 1: And the you know, the people that mcgone was helping,
Speaker 1: and that the maganestas more broadly in the Liberal Party
Speaker 1: were helping went and then put down the actual social revolution.
Speaker 1: And so there's this intense bitterness and this like hope
Speaker 1: against hope being like no, no, no, We're going to
Speaker 1: remember the dynamite. There's the line that the dynamite is
Speaker 1: powerfully restraining its forces so that it does not explode
Speaker 1: from indignation. And I think about this. I don't know
Speaker 1: if you'll watch and or but there's a part in
Speaker 1: it where an old revolutionary is talking about the space
Speaker 1: gasoline that they're in the process of stealing, and talking
Speaker 1: about how the revolutionaries like that gas They understand each
Speaker 1: other because they are the thing that explodes when there's
Speaker 1: too much friction in the air. And I just I
Speaker 1: like this mirror of ideas across one hundred years in
Speaker 1: different countries. Okay, have one more story for him. The
Speaker 1: triumph of the social revolution from nineteen fifteen not dramatic
Speaker 1: at all. Juan is ecstatic. He has just seen a
Speaker 1: notice from Washington in a newspaper saying that they have
Speaker 1: recognized Kranza as the head of the executive power of
Speaker 1: the Mexican Republic. He effusively embraces his wife, Yosepha, He
Speaker 1: kisses his young son and yells out, Now peace will
Speaker 1: be a reality. Misery will end. Long Live Kranza Yosepha
Speaker 1: stands there with her mouth open, looking attentively at her husband.
Speaker 1: She does not understand how merely raising a new president
Speaker 1: to power could put an end to misery. She casts
Speaker 1: a glance around the room, a room in a dead
Speaker 1: end alleyway in the Mexico City neighborhood of Tepozan, and sighs.
Speaker 1: Everything around her is miserable. The wicker chairs are breaking
Speaker 1: apart at the bottom. The plate of the brazier does
Speaker 1: not have a sliver of carbon. The miserable bed flaunts
Speaker 1: sheets that display arbitrary drawings of maps, the product of
Speaker 1: a physically suffocated child. Atop the rickety table glows a
Speaker 1: stump of paraffin in the neck of a bottle streaked
Speaker 1: with dense droplets of melted fuel. Without realizing that his
Speaker 1: wife has not understood him, one yells an air of
Speaker 1: prosperity and liberty is opened before the Mexican people. Long
Speaker 1: Live Caranza Yosepha opens her eyes insolently decidedly. She does
Speaker 1: not comprehend what relation could obtain between the exultation of
Speaker 1: an individual to power and the death of misery. She
Speaker 1: submerges herself in profound reflections until a Laos, perhaps the
Speaker 1: hungriest among the innumerable ones that populate her head, jabs
Speaker 1: her terribly and returns her to reality. She scratches furiously
Speaker 1: eagerly for Nettek. At the same time, with a voice
Speaker 1: enfeebled from prolonged periods of fasting, she says to her husband,
Speaker 1: could you tell me one, what are the poor going
Speaker 1: to gain? When Kranza assents to the presidency? Come on, Yosepha,
Speaker 1: do you still not understand these things? We are going
Speaker 1: to gain laws that benefit the worker, the ones we
Speaker 1: have favor the agricultural workers. We are going to receive
Speaker 1: lands from the hands of the government. Finally, we are
Speaker 1: going to enjoy liberty and well being. The outline of
Speaker 1: a grin forms on Josepha's lips, expressing the bitterness in
Speaker 1: her heart. Although poor, she has had the opportunity to
Speaker 1: read something about the history of Mexico. She remembers that
Speaker 1: all the presidents, before reaching a high position, swore thousands
Speaker 1: and thousands of times to dedicate all their concerns to
Speaker 1: the well being of the people. This was offered by
Speaker 1: the proclamations of Enterbe, the manifestos of Bustamente, the edicts
Speaker 1: of Santa Anna, and the proclamations, Manifesto, songs and circulars
Speaker 1: of Zoolaga and Commandfort of Gonzales and of Diaz in
Speaker 1: a word of everyone, including Madero, all vowed to make
Speaker 1: the people happy, and the people were disgraced under all
Speaker 1: of them. A bedbug walks slowly along the wall, as
Speaker 1: if killing time by going out for a stroll, while
Speaker 1: the poor people, the victims of the capitalist system, decide
Speaker 1: to go to bed. Josepha sees it, and, with a
Speaker 1: prowess that demonstrates a great deal of practice, smears it
Speaker 1: with the tip of her toe, leaving a bright red
Speaker 1: footprint on the wall. The miserable woman casts an almost
Speaker 1: sympathetic glance at her husband, a glance that appears to say,
Speaker 1: poor slave, when will you open your eyes? Wan is
Speaker 1: radiant with joy and shaking. The newspaper overhead exclaims this
Speaker 1: a constitutional order. Respected individuals guarantee the prerogatives of citizenship
Speaker 1: without bonds, impartial administrative justice, free suffrage, no reelection honor
Speaker 1: among public functionaries. What more could you want, my wife?
Speaker 1: Why do you make your face look so sorrowful? Yosepha replies,
Speaker 1: this is all a very lovely dream. But what about
Speaker 1: the bread? Who will give us bread? Ha haha? For
Speaker 1: that I have arms, Wan says, laughing. He adds, only
Speaker 1: the lazy will die of hunger. Discouraged, Yosepha lets her
Speaker 1: arms drop decidedly. She thinks Wan is a perfect sheep.
Speaker 1: Various louse bites make her scratch herself desperately until she
Speaker 1: begins to spout blood. Suddenly, peals are heard. It is
Speaker 1: the church bells of the parish of Santa Anna, drifting
Speaker 1: from Teesalala. Comes the rumble of cries, the clatter of firecrackers,
Speaker 1: the peal of all the church bells that every temple
Speaker 1: emitted in turn, mixed with the triumphant notes of a
Speaker 1: military band playing a two step. The noise winds up,
Speaker 1: making Wan enthusiastic to the point of delirium. Taking off
Speaker 1: his hat, he marches out to the street to give
Speaker 1: free rein to his exultation, crying at the top of
Speaker 1: his voice, Long Live Karanza. It is the supporters of Karanza,
Speaker 1: who are celebrating the recognition of Karanza's government extended by
Speaker 1: foreign governments and the capitalists they represent. A month has passed.
Speaker 1: One works, but his situation does not change. His miserable
Speaker 1: salary is just barely enough to prevent himself, Yosepha and
Speaker 1: his young son from materially dying of hunger. The room
Speaker 1: still contains the same broken windows, the same miserable bed
Speaker 1: with its maps, the poor table that they still have
Speaker 1: not been able to replace. In the brazier, they still
Speaker 1: cannot cook a decent soup. Pieces of carbon cost too
Speaker 1: much as if they were made of gold. The many
Speaker 1: bloody grooves in the walls indicate that the bedbugs still
Speaker 1: have not abandoned their habit of going for a walk
Speaker 1: before eating. The louses extract the fire from the poor Yosepha,
Speaker 1: how much have we gained from the elevation of Kranza, Truly,
Speaker 1: my beloved wan Yosepha said with a certain sneer. One
Speaker 1: scratches his head, Tormented by the louses and by the
Speaker 1: deception he believed that Koranza's ascendence to power would ensure
Speaker 1: abundance in the home. Nevertheless, he cannot accept defeat. He exclaims,
Speaker 1: it is impossible that a government could make the people
Speaker 1: happy in just one month. Let's give them some time
Speaker 1: so that they can implement the reforms that will benefit
Speaker 1: the masses. Then we will see. A year has passed.
Speaker 1: The conditions of Juan's life are the same as before. Certainly,
Speaker 1: the salaries are now greater. However, the owner of the
Speaker 1: house has increased the rents of the rooms. The merchants
Speaker 1: have raised the prices of many primary necessities clothes. They're
Speaker 1: more expensive now than they were before. Now he works
Speaker 1: no more than eight hours a day. However, in the
Speaker 1: end he has to do the same, exactly the same
Speaker 1: as he did before in twelve, fourteen and even sixteen hours.
Speaker 1: Yosepha has a copy of Regeneration hands. She reads it
Speaker 1: with marked interest, abandoning the reading for moments only when
Speaker 1: the pokings of the parasite make the intervention of her
Speaker 1: fingernails absolutely indispensable. One paces back and forth around the room,
Speaker 1: visibly agitated. He holds a red booklet in his hand,
Speaker 1: whose color is the only joyous tone in this dark
Speaker 1: well of misery, filth, and sadness. It is the manifesto
Speaker 1: of September twenty third, nineteen eleven. Suddenly one interrupts his
Speaker 1: pacing and slapping his forehead, exclaims, what a blockhead I've been,
Speaker 1: And along with me, all the workers who supported Caranza,
Speaker 1: we live here in misery and the ultimate misery, even
Speaker 1: though we break our backs in work, just like we
Speaker 1: did before we elevated that old scoundrel to power. Those
Speaker 1: redistributions of land wound up being the crudest deceptions. One
Speaker 1: has to bribe officials to get anything. The laws that
Speaker 1: supposedly protect the worker are actually written to protect capital.
Speaker 1: The bourgeoisie contrived to retrieve everything they had lost to
Speaker 1: us in a cunning manner. The concessions they made in
Speaker 1: their constitutional orders do not profit poor people. We continue
Speaker 1: to be in virtue of our miserable poverty, the same
Speaker 1: pariahs as before. Death to Caranza, Death to all government,
Speaker 1: yells Yosepha, shaking the issue of regeneration in her hand
Speaker 1: like a flag. Long live anarchy, one yells, shaking the
Speaker 1: red booklet, whose pages spout the freshness of youth, the
Speaker 1: exultations of spring, the balm of hope, and the rays
Speaker 1: of the sun. For all who suffer for all who breathe,
Speaker 1: for all who drag their existence along the black abyss
Speaker 1: of slavery and tyranny. For the first time, the sordid
Speaker 1: room is ennobled, for it serves as the haven of
Speaker 1: a pair of lions and a cub. Several days past,
Speaker 1: the barricades of Mexico City present a formidable front. The
Speaker 1: united neighborhoods of Merced, Curtados and Manzanadas have erected barricade
Speaker 1: in two hours. Men, women, elders, and children, and even
Speaker 1: some disabled people have taken part in the work. The
Speaker 1: ugly edifice of the Merced Market has provided most of
Speaker 1: the material behind the barricade. Bristles, a sea of palm hats,
Speaker 1: the leather sandals, and the crude shoes of the defenders
Speaker 1: tread the black land energetically, now proud to serve as
Speaker 1: pedestals for a band of heroes. For many moments they
Speaker 1: await the attack of government forces. Everything is activity behind
Speaker 1: the barricade. The women dig trenches, the men wash their rifles,
Speaker 1: the children distribute outfits to those champions of the proletariat.
Speaker 1: A red flag showing in white letters the inscription Land
Speaker 1: and Liberty smiles to the sun at the top of
Speaker 1: the barricade, sending its salute to all the disinherited of
Speaker 1: the earth. From its peak, the proletariat of Capital is
Speaker 1: up in arms against Capital, the government and the Church.
Speaker 1: The proletarians of Rostro and San Antonio abad do not
Speaker 1: display any less activity. The butchers sharpen their knives, testing
Speaker 1: them with the tips of their thumbs. The streets adjacent
Speaker 1: to Rostro and the factory of Jlados and Tahitos are
Speaker 1: stripped of pavement. All the materials have been converted into
Speaker 1: resources for the construction of the barricade. Tables, pottery, pianos, clothing,
Speaker 1: mattresses all have been brought down in a horribly confusing
Speaker 1: heap of objects, serving to shield the noble bosoms of
Speaker 1: its defenders. Blen and Solto de Laguo, San Cosme and
Speaker 1: Santa Maria de le Rivara, San Lazzaro and San Antonio,
Speaker 1: Tomotlan La Bolsa and Tapito, San Juan Nuolaco, Santa Maria
Speaker 1: de Loredonda La Laguina. All of the various districts of
Speaker 1: the populous city have vacated their neighborhoods. In their dwellings
Speaker 1: Emboldened by the revolutionary fire, they prepare to resist the
Speaker 1: attack of the military officers supporting Caranza. The barricades sprung
Speaker 1: forth from the land, and an opening and closing of eyes.
Speaker 1: The barricades of Saint Lauranzo and San Antonio Tomatlan shows
Speaker 1: upon its summit a singular flag. It is an old
Speaker 1: petticoat torn and grimy. It is the flag of misery.
Speaker 1: It is the brave rag defining the world of oppression
Speaker 1: and privilege. As long as the tatters are not detached
Speaker 1: from the proletariat's bodies, the master remains tranquil. When it
Speaker 1: appears attached to the top of a staff, the world trembles.
Speaker 1: Whereas all the barricades are filled with enthusiasm, nothing surmounts
Speaker 1: the activity, enthusiasm, audacity, and revolutionary zeal. In the united
Speaker 1: barricade of the neighborhoods of Peravio, Santa Anna and tessant
Speaker 1: aale Juan and Josepha do not rest for a moment.
Speaker 1: Blackened with powder, they look very beautiful, sweating, panting, crossing
Speaker 1: to and fro in the barricade, communicating energy and enthusiasm
Speaker 1: to its defenders. Suddenly, a formidable clamor, followed by rifle
Speaker 1: shots and bugle blasts can be heard from the direction
Speaker 1: of Concepsion Tekipihuka. It is our comrades from bolsa and
Speaker 1: torpedo fighting. Juan cries, tossing his hat into the air.
Speaker 1: A few minutes later, the air resounds with the roar
Speaker 1: of cannons, the racket of rifle shots, the beating of
Speaker 1: the drums, the angry cries of the bugle, the martial
Speaker 1: airs of the military bands. They are all jumbled together
Speaker 1: in one singular, thunderous crack. Throughout the entire city. All
Speaker 1: the barricades were being attacked simultaneously by Caranza's forces. Juan
Speaker 1: and Josepha climb to the height of the barricade, where
Speaker 1: they see a dense column of Kranza supporters approaching the
Speaker 1: streets of Santo Domingo on foot. Finally, the enemy is
Speaker 1: closing in comrades. They yell at the same time, everybody,
Speaker 1: choose the place that best suits you to defend our bastion.
Speaker 1: In an instant, the barricade is crowned with rifles. The
Speaker 1: enemy places two cannons at the base of Santa Katarina
Speaker 1: Imoras Street, while part of the ca continues advancing toward
Speaker 1: the barricade, which is situated at the base of the street.
Speaker 1: An imperious voice emerges from the column when it is
Speaker 1: one hundred paces away from the barricade. In the name
Speaker 1: of the Supreme Government. Give yourselves up, it says, long
Speaker 1: live land and liberty. The defenders of the barricade answer.
Speaker 1: Rifle shots follow rapidly from both sides. The cannons direct
Speaker 1: their projectiles against the center of the barricade in order
Speaker 1: to open a breach. The smoke saturates the atmosphere until
Speaker 1: it becomes unbreathable. The attack is furious, the resistance formidable.
Speaker 1: Quranza's officers accompany their shots with abuse of words. The
Speaker 1: proletarian defenders of the barricade sing, child of the people,
Speaker 1: shackles constrict you. But this injustice cannot continue if your
Speaker 1: existence is filled with pain, rather than being a slave,
Speaker 1: prefer to die. Broadcasts to the four winds, like an
Speaker 1: invitation made to dignity and honor. Are the notes of
Speaker 1: this magnificent hymn, Of this hymn common to all the
Speaker 1: downtrodden of the world, Of this hymn that condenses all
Speaker 1: the bitter martyrdoms of the people and the anguish of
Speaker 1: its saints who long for redemption of this hymn that
Speaker 1: is simultaneously a complaint, a protest, and a threat. The
Speaker 1: following day, the proletarians of Mexico City celebrate the triumph
Speaker 1: of the social revolution. The capitalist system has died the end,
Speaker 1: and like, yeah, what a not subtle peace, you know,
Speaker 1: but it's just direct. It's just like this man has
Speaker 1: fought in this. You know. This is several years after
Speaker 1: the uprising failed, and so there's this kind of like
Speaker 1: it's almost like fan fiction for your own revolution, like
Speaker 1: rewriting it in some ways, or rather saying like, this
Speaker 1: is how it can be reborn and continue to be fought,
Speaker 1: you know. And it didn't, but it actually could have.
Speaker 1: That is a thing that has happened time and time again.
Speaker 1: I don't know. It's interesting, yeah, because it's such a
Speaker 1: blunt piece and doesn't match modern conceptions of how one
Speaker 1: writes political literature. But there's just something to it, and
Speaker 1: I want to reread one of the lines, the Barricades
Speaker 1: of San Lorenzo and San Antonio. Tomultan shows upon its
Speaker 1: summit a singular flag. It is an old petticoat, torn
Speaker 1: and grimy. It is the flag of misery. It is
Speaker 1: the brave rag defying the world of oppression and privilege.
Speaker 1: As long as the tatters are not detached from the
Speaker 1: proletariat's body, the master remains tranquil. When it appears attached
Speaker 1: to the top of a staff, the world trembles. I
Speaker 1: don't know, I feel like that's where I'll leave it.
Speaker 1: I'll be back next week with more of this stuff,
Speaker 1: and if you want to hear more about some amazing
Speaker 1: uprisings that happen in Mexico a little bit later. I'm
Speaker 1: currently working on a series of uncol people who did
Speaker 1: cool stuff about the Zapatista Rising and their ongoing work
Speaker 1: building autonomy and shap us that you can check out
Speaker 1: wherever you are. Support people building autonomy and sometimes it's
Speaker 1: worth being a little cringing in your earnestness about what
Speaker 1: you believe, even if I think sometimes fiction should be
Speaker 1: written a little more subtly. But whatever, Hi, everyone, it
Speaker 1: could happen here as a production of cool Zone Media.
Speaker 1: For more podcasts from cool Zone Media, visit our website
Speaker 1: Coolzonemedia dot com or check us out on the iHeartRadio app,
Speaker 1: Apple podcasts, or wherever you listen to podcasts, you can
Speaker 1: find sources where it could happen. Here, updated monthly at
Speaker 1: coolzonemedia dot com slash sources. Thanks for listening,