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During the 2019 Warsaw Fellowship program, Fellows wrote a brief article on the topic of their choosing in response to one or more of the activities/speakers during the program. Pieces written by these fellows represent their individual opinions.
I hear the word ‘solidarity’ and my brain immediately goes to the song ‘Solidarity Forever’, a hymn that played in the background of my childhood. Written by Ralph Chaplin in 1915, the song was a union anthem passed from generation to generation of organizers and activists. One line always jumps out to me: “…yet what force on earth is weaker than the feeble strength of one?” Said simply, there is power in numbers.
[Solidarity] assumes that multiple individuals or parties connected and focused on achieving a common goal will be stronger together. As the union chant goes: “the people united will never be divided.”
Solidarity is a charged word, one that extends beyond the lines of a song or the picket lines of a protest. It came to describe the struggle for freedom against tyranny in Poland in 1989, permanently intertwining itself into the fabric of democracy-building. It’s important to remember that, until the latter half of the 1970s, Polish social groups that opposed the communist government were not united and their actions brought little long-term change. It took three decades of resistance—locally, regionally, and nationally—to form a broad coalition that would be robust enough to oust the communist regime in Poland. Although it takes many forms, organizers and activists all over the world have used ‘solidarity’ to encapsulate their common mission for restorative justice and collective liberation. The word assumes that multiple individuals or parties connected and focused on achieving a common goal will be stronger together. As the union chant goes: “the people united will never be divided.”
Solidarity is a continual process. It is relationship-building. It is political and it’s incredibly personal.
So we know solidarity may sound like an old banjo and a crowd of impassioned voices— but what does it look like?
Maybe it’s best to imagine solidarity on a smaller scale, with two individuals—the Privileged and the Subjugated. Of course these terms are fluid, rooted in the changing contexts of identities and societal structures. Nevertheless, there is sure to be one side in a more advantaged or disadvantaged place in the struggle for liberation.
As the Privileged, we are tasked with rejecting false senses of equality—to refrain from equating our own suffering with the suffering of others. Empathy is a powerful tool, but our good intentions do not automatically make us better advocates. As the Subjugated (and in many circumstances, activists who are also the Subjugated), we are tasked with overcoming that voice in our heads telling us to remain quiet or save the emotional labor involved in self-advocacy. To join in solidarity means to put your whole self forward—to be vocal and to be vulnerable, channeling rage into productive acts of resistance.
As the Privileged, we are tasked with rejecting false senses of equality—to refrain from equating our own suffering with the suffering of others. Empathy is a powerful tool, but our good intentions do not automatically make us better advocates.
Solidarity is a continual process. It is relationship-building. It is political and it’s incredibly personal. Being in solidarity with others is the only way we as activists begin to chip away at the systems of oppression that keep the power in the hands of a few. If there is no force on earth weaker than the feeble strength of one, then we only stand a chance when we stand together.
