Probably the most horrific stories I have read and heard are the stories of “small” wars. More precisely, of that incomprehensible condition that often arises during the collapse of states. Classic examples are Yugoslavia, Chechnya, countless cases in Africa. Recent neighbors suddenly tear each other’s throats out, demonstrating, if I may say so, wonders of extreme cruelty. The social organism functions with great difficulty, life slides toward its simplest forms, distrust, hatred, and violence reign. And all this can continue for quite a long time.
On the other hand, the most inspiring stories I have heard were about our Maidan or the Turkish Taksim. People there, as you know, demonstrated wonders of mutual assistance and organization, while also creating the most friendly and positive atmosphere.
Both of these categories of stories have one common component — there is no state in them. In the first case, it unexpectedly burst, dissolved, died, or completely weakened. In the second case, there is a crowd of people, large enough for them to develop needs for coordinating their actions. They have such coordination, but there is no state within this crowd.
Why then is the difference between one situation and the other so striking? After all, in both cases people have no state, so why does the result turn out so different?
The thing is this. In the first case, the disappearance of the state happens unexpectedly. States disappear, die, or burst for political reasons — as a result of wars, coups, or simply from an excess of greed. Those social institutions that the state has appropriated to itself, and above all, the institutions of “order maintenance,” courts, and the like, disappear along with it. People are left alone with their fears, cultivated by the state and its media, fears give birth to violence, which begins to grow like a snowball. Of course, in each specific case there are its own unique circumstances, but the general scheme I am talking about occurs everywhere.
The state turns people into atoms. It destroys the natural bonds between them, does everything to hinder their voluntary interaction, and constantly frightens them (anyone who has seen at least one news broadcast knows what I mean) so that they themselves seek its protection. The most terrible thing is that these human atoms get used to believing that someone “should” maintain order and catch criminals, provide them with medical care, and so on. And these notions do not change from the fact that the state that had appropriated these functions before it burst no longer exists, and violence and chaos have been reigning around for several months already.
In the case of maidans and taksims, things are directly opposite. The people who go there know in advance that no one owes them anything. They are aware that there are no state institutions on the maidan, and if they want to achieve their goals, they will a) have to use their own resources; b) interact with each other. This is precisely why both Maidan and Taksim demonstrate an amazing level of self-organization. The institutions that arise in such a large community located on a small territory are strikingly effective and rational. Here you will find both training of newcomers, and supply of food and warm things (at Maidan), and a system of rapid notification, first aid (Taksim), and a kind of order maintenance, intelligence, and counterintelligence systems. Natural leaders appear here, and they remain leaders as long as there is a need for their qualities. People in such a situation demonstrate an amazing “entrepreneurial alertness,” as economists say, they are always ready, to use the same language, to “seek discrepancies” in their community, that is, they actively perform the “entrepreneurial function.” It is enough to remember that through the people-filled Maidan you could walk in any direction. This is the readiness for cooperation, people make way for you, understanding that “you need to.” For fun, try doing the same at some concert at the same Maidan, and you will feel the difference.
All this goes to show that between the situation of “no state” and the situation of “no state” there can be a chasm. When people, like the author of these lines, say “no state,” what is meant is something very much like Maidan, when we freely strive to achieve our goals and in the course of this activity voluntarily, using our own resources, create institutions that help us interact. The story when the state has bumped its head against the wall or committed suicide in the toilet, taking its monopoly institutions to the other world and leaving its slaves alone with their fears — that is a completely different story. And I don’t think anyone has any desire to experience that story.