Inventing the Future: Postcapitalism and a World Without Work

In the opening chapter of our journey, we confront a paradox that has long haunted the contemporary left: despite waves of mass protests, occupations, and mobilizations across the globe, systemic change remains elusive. Millions marched against the Iraq War, yet the war proceeded as planned. This paradox is deeply rooted in what can be described as 'folk politics'—a political common sense that emphasizes immediacy, localism, and direct action. It is a politics that feels authentic and empowering because it brings us face to face with each other and with power structures in our immediate surroundings. Yet, as empowering as these moments may be, they often fail to scale or persist long enough to challenge the vast and complex machinery of global capitalism.

Take, for example, the iconic moment when activists at a summit managed to topple the physical barriers separating them from powerful leaders. The crowd surged forward, exhilarated by this breach, only to find themselves unsure of what to do next. The role of the dutiful protestor had given no indication of actions beyond symbolic gestures. This scene captures the essence of folk politics: powerful symbolic acts that capture attention but lack a strategic framework for lasting change.

Folk politics privileges the local—the neighborhood, the city square, the immediate environment—as the authentic stage for political action. It values the small-scale over the large, the particular over the universal, and the direct over the mediated. This is why movements often focus on occupations, consensus-based assemblies, and direct action tactics. These methods foster a sense of community and personal empowerment, yet they also impose limits. Direct democracy, for instance, thrives in small groups but struggles to function effectively at national or global scales. Consensus decision-making, while inclusive, can bog down movements in endless debates over minutiae, sapping energy and leading to exhaustion.

Moreover, folk politics often shies away from articulating clear, strategic demands. The Occupy movement famously hesitated to make demands, fearing divisiveness or co-optation. Yet, the absence of demands can dilute a movement's political clarity and hinder its ability to build alliances and effect policy change. This tendency reflects a broader discomfort with abstraction and mediation—folk politics prefers the tangible and immediate, sometimes at the expense of engaging with complex systemic realities.

Resistance within folk politics often takes the form of defense—defending local hospitals, preventing evictions, or delaying environmental degradation. These victories, while meaningful, are often overwhelmed by larger systemic forces advancing unabated. Small successes become temporary respites rather than steps towards systemic transformation.

Interestingly, folk politics arises partly as a response to the overwhelming complexity of global capitalism and the state. When the economic system feels vast, abstract, and ungraspable, reducing politics to the human scale becomes a natural and appealing strategy. Yet, this reduction risks misrepresenting the true nature of power and limits the scope of political imagination.

As we conclude this first reflection, we see that folk politics, while necessary as a starting point for political engagement, is insufficient for the ambitious task of inventing a future beyond capitalism. The challenge ahead is to build on these grassroots energies while transcending their limitations—developing strategies that scale, endure, and address systemic structures.

Let us now turn to understand how the opposing forces—the architects of neoliberalism—managed to build a powerful, expansive hegemony through long-term strategic thinking and ideological infrastructure.