The Revolution will be Online

August 6, 1995

This essay was orig­i­nal­ly writ­ten in 1995.

IT’S HARD TO IGNORE the sor­ry shape of the social change com­mu­ni­ty. The signs of a col­lapsed move­ment are every­where. Orga­ni­za­tions are clos­ing, cut­ting back, lay­ing off staff, and drop­ping the fre­quen­cy of their magazines. 

On top of this, the basic resources we’ve depend­ed on are get­ting scarcer. Paper prices and postage prices are going up. Direct mail solic­i­ta­tions are for many economically-unfeasible now. With every aban­doned mail­ing list, with every dis­con­tin­ued peace fair, we’re los­ing the infra­struc­ture that used to nour­ish the whole movement. 

Here in Philadel­phia, the last few years have seen food coops close, peace orga­ni­za­tions lay off staff, and the book­stores dis­con­tin­ue their polit­i­cal titles. I’ve been meet­ing peo­ple only a half-generation younger than I who aren’t aware of the basic orga­niz­ing prin­ci­ples that the move­ment has built up over the years and who don’t know the mean­ings of Green­ham Com­mon or the Clamshell Alliance

Like many of you, I’m not giv­ing up. We can’t just aban­don our work because it’s becom­ing more dif­fi­cult. We need to strug­gle to find cre­ative ways of get­ting our mes­sage out there and com­mu­ni­cat­ing with oth­ers. What we need is a new media.

The Promise of the Web

The Web’s rev­o­lu­tion is it’s incred­i­bly min­i­mal costs. Fif­teen dol­lars a month gets you a home­page. As an edi­tor at New Soci­ety Pub­lish­ers (1991 – 1996), I’ve always had to wor­ry whether we’d lose mon­ey on a par­tic­u­lar edi­to­r­i­al project, and it some­times seemed a rule of thumb that what excit­ed me would­n’t sell. With the Web, we don’t have to wor­ry if an idea isn’t pop­u­lar because we’re not putting the same lev­el of resources into each publication.

Nev­er before has pub­lish­ing been so cheap. Just about any­one can do it. You don’t need a par­tic­u­lar­ly fast or fan­cy com­put­er to put Web pages online. And you don’t have to wor­ry about dis­tri­b­u­tion: if some­one sets their Web brows­er to your address, they’ll get you “prod­uct” instantly.

All the forces push­ing move­ment pub­lish­ing over the edge of finan­cial insol­ven­cy dis­ap­pear when we go online. Switch­ing to the Web is a mat­ter of keep­ing our words in print. The Web is the lat­est inven­tion to open up the dis­tri­b­u­tion of words by birthing new medias. The print­ing press begat mod­ern book pub­lish­ing just as the pho­to­copi­er begat zine cul­ture. The Web can like­wise spawn a media where words can flour­ish with less cap­i­tal than ever before.

Advertising Each Other

The prob­lem with the Web is not acces­si­bil­i­ty, but rather being heard above the noise. Peo­ple gen­er­al­ly find your web­site in two ways. The first is that they see your web address in your newslet­ter, get on their com­put­ers and look you up; this of course only gets you your own peo­ple. The sec­ond way is through links.

Links take you from one web­site to anoth­er. Web­page design­ers try to get linked from sites of sim­i­lar inter­est to theirs, hop­ing the read­ers of the oth­er site will fol­low the link to their web­page. This bounc­ing from site to site is called surf­ing, and it’s the main way around the web.

Link­ing is a very prim­i­tive art nowa­days. The Non­vi­o­lence Web has inter­nal links that active­ly invite read­ers to explore the whole NV-Web. Every­time some­one comes into the NV-Web through a mem­ber group, they will be inticed to stay and dis­cov­er the oth­er groups. By putting social change groups togeth­er in one place, we can have a much-more dynam­ic cross-referencing. Think of it as the equiv­a­lent of trad­ing mail­ing lists in that we can all share those web surfers who find any one of us.

In the web world as in the real one, coop­er­a­tion helps us all. If you’re an activist group doing work on non­vi­o­lent social change then con­tact us and we’ll put your words online. For free. If you have your own web­site already, then let’s talk about how we can crosslink you with oth­er groups work­ing on non­vi­o­lent social change.

Come explore the Non­vi­o­lence Web and let us get you con­nect­ed. Come join our revolution.

In peace,

Mar­tin Kelley

Food Not Bomb’s Publisher’s Note

June 29, 1992

Intro from 2025: I see that the Food Not Bombs book I worked on in 1992 is avail­able in the Inter­net Archive. Look­ing through it, I see my pub­lish­er’s note is there. I might as well retroac­tive­ly add it to the blog!

I some­times muse over whether the ostrich isn’t the most apt ani­mal totem of our age. Like that giant bird, so many of us react to prob­lems by tizzy­ing about and shov­ing our heads in the sand. With our sight thus obscured, we hope for some­one to fix our trou­bles for us.

How else to describe our response to the unweav­ing of those social threads that once bound us in the vision of a com­mon human­i­ty? Over the past decade, we’ve seen an alarm­ing rise in pover­ty and hunger, yet so many of us have done so lit­tle. As we step over home­less peo­ple, we demon­strate anew how even the great­est hor­ror can become mun­dane when seen often enough.

We spend hours excus­ing our­selves for our inac­tion, while at the same time blam­ing oth­ers for theirs. We stick our heads in the sand and wait for oth­ers — be they in gov­ern­ment, social work or reli­gion — to come and solve the crises in our communities.

Tak­ing respon­si­bil­i­ty and action in our com­mu­ni­ty is pre­cise­ly the goal of Food Not Bombs col­lec­tives through­out the coun­try. Food Not Bombs is not about hir­ing pro­fes­sion­als, re-prioritizing the gov­ern­ment, or financ­ing new agen­cies; it is not at all about ask­ing oth­ers to solve our com­mu­ni­ties’ prob­lems. It is about ordi­nary, non-heroic folk empow­er­ing them­selves and com­ing togeth­er around food — the most basic of issues — as a way of pro­vid­ing for one another.

When you sit around a Food Not Bombs table, you get to know peo­ple in a way that does­n’t allow you to eas­i­ly stick your head back into the sand. By lit­er­al­ly break­ing bread with these won­der­ful strangers, you’re chal­lenged to break stereo­types. This is an essen­tial­ly rev­o­lu­tion­ary act.

Some­times I look around the Food Not Bombs table here in Philadel­phia, and dream of a day when we will all take our heads out of the sand. Of a day when we will be able to look each oth­er in the eye and reach out to each oth­er in times of need. Of a day when we will pro­vide our­selves and each oth­er with free food, free hous­ing, free education.

We here at New Soci­ety Pub­lish­ers are proud to be a part of that dream, and proud to offer you Food Not Bombs: How to Feed the Hun­gry and Build Com­mu­ni­ty. Read the book and vis­it — or start! — a Food Not Bombs chap­ter in your town. Maybe you’ll see why I some­times won­der if that dream might not be clos­er than we all think.

Mar­tin Kel­ley
for New Soci­ety Pub­lish­ers
June 29, 1992