Documentos de Académico
Documentos de Profesional
Documentos de Cultura
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CONCLUSION
THE CULTURAL STUDY OF
SOCIAL MOVEMENTS
The stories I have told about the ten major social movements that
make up the core of this book are based in general assumptions about
how movements work—how they arise, how they develop, and how they
shape the wider society. I have made some of these assumptions explicit
in the individual case studies, but for the most part I have addressed
them only implicitly. So, in this concluding essay I will try to offer a
more general picture of how movements work by looking at the large
body of social movement theory that has developed over several decades.
The dynamics of movements should be of interest not only to scholars
but to activists (including scholar-activists) as well, who hopefully can
use this knowledge to make their movements more effective.
First, I will briefly sketch and comment on some of the major
schools of movement theory that have shaped movement studies and
my own analyses. Then I will suggest some of the ways I think these
various approaches can to a certain extent be synthesized. But this over-
view is decidedly not meant as a total theory of how movements work.
In my view, there are too many different kinds of movements and dif
fering paths of development to fit into one overarching framework. My
comments will be most relevant to the particular set of movements cov-
ered in this book. The great variety of movements argues against viewing
them through a single lens, no matter how complexly crafted. In any
claim to name the essential features of all movements there is a danger
371
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social movement theory and this cultural turn in U.S. social science led
to a host of new cultural approaches to movement analysis that gained
greater prominence in the late twentieth and early twenty-first centu-
ries. These new cultural theories looked at things like storytelling in
movements, the role of emotions, the creation of collective movement
identities, the persuasive languages developed by movements, and the
use of dramatic rituals and performances.
A few words about each of these: Various kinds of narrative analy-
sis examine the structures of the stories told within movements and the
stories that circulate from movements out into the wider society. Nar
rative analyses look at how movements draw upon existing cultural
stories, alter those stories to fit their needs, and invent new stories
throughout every aspect of movement activity. These stories may be
long-range ones, rooting the movement in a history of struggle, or they
may be stories of victims and/or heroic resisters, intended to inspire
activists. It is apparent to any observer that one of the key facts about
most movements is that they arouse strong emotions, for and against
them, yet until recently emotional affect was seen as too subjective to be
measured and understood. Seeking to overcome the emphasis on dan-
gerous emotions in collective behavior, new approaches on the impor-
tant terrain of affect analysis have been developed over the past few
decades to show more precisely how movements draw upon and reshape
the emotional lives of participants and observers alike. One key aspect
of European new social movement theory that was widely adopted was
an emphasis on collective identity, an approach that looks at both how
social identity groups can be recruited into movements and how new
social identities (like Chicano/a/x or transgender) form within move-
ments and can spread later into the wider society. The classical field of
rhetoric (the art of persuasion) also entered the cultural analysis reper-
toire more fully in the wake of the cultural turn. Rhetorical analysis has
long examined one key component of many movements, public speeches
(such as “I Have a Dream”), but it also looks at other kinds of persuasion
at work in movements, especially verbal persuasion but also the roles of
images, gestures (including dance), sounds (including music), and other
symbolic systems. A different, related set of discourse analyses arose out
of new cultural theories collectively labeled “poststructuralist” and/or
“postmodernist.” More fully than traditional rhetorical analysis, these
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CONCEPTUALIZING “CULTURE”
Critic Raymond Williams, in his book Keywords: A Vocabulary of Cul-
ture and Society, claims that culture is probably the most complicated
word in the English language.4 Recent arguments in cultural theory
have only deepened those complexities. It is not surprising, therefore,
that students of movements have not used the term culture in consistent
ways. That is one reason they are not likely to come to consensus about
the role of culture in movements. Culture is one of those concepts that
political theorists describe as “essentially contested”—that is, it is a con-
cept that matters so much to a given society that it is subject to more or
less constant debate.
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In the wake of the cultural turn in the social sciences, a few scholars
began to try to synthesize the most relevant portions of the traditional
approaches with more recent strands of culture theory. Addressing the
realm of U.S. sociology, Amy Swidler argues that part of the problem
was that sociologists had been drawing primarily upon one general the-
ory of culture, Max Weber’s, to the neglect of what Swidler views as a
more promising strand of theory, that of Marcel Mauss. Swidler asserts
that Weber’s rather thin theory of culture helps account for empirical
sociology’s relative neglect of cultural factors. Even those schools of
movement analysis (like frame analysis) that do examine cultural fac-
tors, she argues, are limited by certain Weberian assumptions about the
centrality of narrowly rational, goal-oriented individuals and the beliefs
they hold. They give far too much credit to individual, rational actors as
opposed to cultural systems that shape people collectively. Swidler
argues that Maussian approaches (in which she includes most cultural
studies work) can lead to much useful empirical research by focusing
not on fuzzy notions of culture as “ideas in people’s heads” but rather
on structural elements of culture—culture as embedded in institutions,
behaviors, and discourses that transcend and deeply shape individual
ideas and actions. Swidler suggests four overlapping targets for work
that takes culture seriously as a set of systemic, not vaguely “expressive,”
factors. First, focus on culture not as individually held beliefs but as
structures embedded in practices relatively independent of the beliefs
held by individual actors. Second, focus less on culture as what actors
themselves really think and more on culture as their “knowledge of how
others will interpret their actions.” Third, focus on “public contexts in
which cultural understandings are brought to bear,” functioning, again,
above the level of individual belief in ways that unite diverse actors.
Fourth, and finally, focus on cultural institutions as sites that set limits
and possibilities for movement activity.5 Swidler’s four key target areas,
though certainly not covering the entire range of frameworks and sites of
cultural importance in movements, offer a suggestive bridge from tradi-
tional structural approaches to cultural approaches. There is no doubt a
danger, in certain versions of such work, of moving too far in the direc-
tion of structures to the neglect of the ways in which, in even the most
controlled social situations, individual actors are capable of some degree
of free agency and/or are driven by uniquely personal configurations of
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psychological forces, but all of Swidler’s four foci are key to any full
understanding of the cultural forces working through movements.
Verta Taylor and Nancy Whittier also address and try to synthe-
size competing intellectual frameworks of cultural analysis in an essay
that has the added advantage of grounding its arguments in a particular
set of movement case histories. They offer this suggestive summary of
some of the main schools relevant to thinking about the movement/
culture matrix:
Major approaches to the analysis of culture advance different con-
cepts, based on distinct epistemological frameworks, for analyzing
the relationship between symbolic forms and the structure of social
relations. For functionalists, culture is conceived as values and
norms, while Marxists and neo-Marxists analyze culture as ideol-
ogy and class consciousness. Symbolic interactionists emphasize
intersubjective meaning, focusing on the subjective dimension—
beliefs, goals, normative expectations, states, and motivations—
that underlie social interaction, while dramaturgical approaches
think of culture as ritual. A new generation of cultural theorists,
influenced by poststructuralism and postmodernism, construe cul
ture as discourse.6
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the broader sense shapes all overarching arenas of life, not just the cul-
tural arena (in the more limited sense) but the economic, social, and
political arenas as well. The social, the political, the economic, and the
cultural (in the narrow sense) are all shaped by the meaning-making
processes we call “cultural” in the larger sense, but these processes func-
tion in varying ways in each of these arenas, and in none are they the sole
determining forces. Various material and institutional forces—especially,
I would argue, economic activity—have impacts that while always in-
terpreted culturally cannot be reduced to those interpretations. As French
social theorist Pierre Bourdieu’s careful work on the specificity of the
cultural “field” (more or less synonymous with my use of “arena”) makes
clear, it is only semiautonomous in relation to the other major arenas/
fields. And, crucially, all these fields are intricately connected in what
Bourdieu calls the overall “field of power.” Put succinctly, all fields—
within the broadly social, economic, political, and cultural fields—meet
in, shape, and are shaped by this “field of power.”7 Keeping this schema
in mind can help us remember that these various arenas/fields are not
ultimately separable.
In general terms, each of these major arenas has its own set of
cultural norms and practices. And, in addition, each of these arenas has
numerous smaller cultures and subcultures within it, each as well with
specific sets of norms of thought and behavior, some formal (like laws),
most informal (like habits). Take the political arena, for example. We can
talk at the broadest level of a global political culture, then we can talk
a bit more specifically of a national political culture (French or Italian
politics), then we can talk of things that are a bit smaller, like the culture
of a particular political party, and then still smaller cultures like the cul-
ture of congressional staffers—and so on down to ever more narrowly
defined cultural spaces. And, most relevant to issues at hand, analysts can
examine the cultural processes at work within a given social movement
as its movement culture. In our metaphorical rendering, we can think
of cultures as nested like Russian matryoshka dolls, each with an ever
smaller one inside. But unlike those dolls, cultures do not have perfectly
defined boundaries; the nature and boundaries of cultures are always
contested, always argued about.
Cultures are never neatly segregated and bound entities; rather,
they are best conceived as partially overlapping, mutually interacting,
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internally contradictory, and nested entities with far from wholly distinct
or unchanging boundaries. In recent scholarship, cultural essentialism—
the conceptualization of individual cultures as internally consistent,
neatly bordered entities—has largely given way to an acknowledgment
of the role analysts play in “inventing” cultures through highly selective
representations of what count as the cultures of particular demographi-
cally constituted groups. Such selective representation occurs not just
for outside observers but also within any given cultural context. This
means any culture (or subculture) is an internally contested formation,
a fact that is perhaps even more obvious in relation to movement cul-
tures, since they tend to be consciously and openly contentious not only
in relation to the dominant culture they seek to change but also in their
internal debates over things like movement values and the best strate-
gies and tactics to employ.
Cultures exist not as natural facts but as true fictions constituted
by regimes of representation invoked in everyday life and scholarly inves-
tigation alike. All representations of a culture, whether by cultural insid-
ers (emic) or outsiders (etic), are true fictions in the sense that, however
empirically grounded, they occur from particular, limited, debatable
points of view. Cultural contexts are never simply given, never simply
presented, but must be represented in ways that are subject to question-
ing, both by group members and by outsiders and scholarly observers.
That cultures are contested does not mean that they are up for defini-
tional grabs by anyone who comes along. Many cultural contexts are
highly fluid and changeable, especially in the current era, but they are
not infinitely malleable. Claims about any given cultural phenomenon
have dominant and subordinate forms, a fact that gives rise to frequent
questioning of who gets to speak for a culture. Individuals and groups
claiming to speak for a culture have more or less privileged access to the
authority and means to enforce their claims, and there are always vary-
ing degrees of access to the dominant means of representation. On the
contemporary scene, important cultural claims are most often filtered
through mainstream, corporate mass media, and more recently through
various digital forms of new social media. Those media terrains them-
selves are always contested in terms of ideology (think CNN versus Fox
News), but they never represent the full range of possible political and
cultural notions. Hence, insurgent movements often offer alternative
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in which the levels he dubs “state politics” and “social politics” interact
constantly. Neither top-down nor bottom-up theories of power alone
can account for the complex flows of power through a given culture.9
With regard to the concept of “social power,” Buechler seems to
be drawing primarily upon discourse analysis as formulated in the works
of Michel Foucault. Foucault’s concept of discourse offers a more expan-
sive method than that used in traditional forms of rhetorical analyses.
In his conception, micropolitics are embedded in the discourses that
pervade every aspect of society, from the most intimate personal levels to
the interactions of governments. Discourses in Foucault’s formulation
set deeply structured (and therefore mostly invisible) limits on what can
and cannot be thought or articulated. Discourses are always subject to
certain interactive, mutually influential engagements and contradictions.
Because they are manifold and contradictory, they limit the possibility
of fully stabile social formations. But they do not create unlimited free-
dom, and they also limit the possibilities of pure resistance. Power for
Foucault is rooted in discourses that do not float free, as some mistaken
critics of his work assume, but rather are embedded in specific iden
tities, institutions, material practices, and variably empowered social
locations.10
The dynamics of ACT UP offer particularly cogent examples of
how this conceptual problematic works itself out in movements. The
graphic artworks and other practices of ACT UP were frequently directed
simultaneously at the political economic realm in the form of federal
drug-funding policy, at the socioeconomic realm in the form of non-
governmental institutions like pharmaceutical corporations, and at the
cultural realm in the form of discursive practices in the mass media and
in aesthetic texts. Few in ACT UP argued for exclusive focus on only one
of these levels—although, as we saw in chapter 7, internal debates did
emerge around which of these targets was most important, and eventu-
ally spin-off groups sought to focus more intensely on one or another of
these arenas. ACT UP’s experience suggests that a continuum across
state, social, economic, and cultural “politics” often exists not only among
different movements but also within particular movements. Some move-
ments may fit relatively neatly into one location on this continuum, but
more often analysis must attend to considerable slippage in a given
movement along this continuum. Clearly, this task becomes even more
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MOVEMENT CULTURES
With these general conceptual schemas and caveats in mind, we can
turn to talk more specifically about the roles that culture plays in protest
movements. Thinking about these roles can be divided into three main
elements: the cultural contexts that give rise to a movement, the move-
ment culture that forms at the center of the movement, and the impact
of the movement in turn on the wider culture. These three processes, of
course, do not take place in some neat line of causality, but instead
interact throughout the life and afterlife of a given movement.
I want to start at the center of the movement/culture dynamic,
with those discourses and practices that make up what is generally called
a movement culture. This is the culture formed by the most committed
participants, the core of the corps. Movement cultures consist of specific
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not only the particular articulations of framing ideas and ideologies but
also a participant’s whole being, deeply shaping embodied experience
at conscious and nonconscious levels. This is especially true of move-
ments that seek not just to create new ideas but also to enact those ideas
through their own movement’s cultural interactions (prefigurative—
attempting to model a future society). This is where works of visionary
art that go beyond the level of ideas can prove especially effective and
affective. In a less extensive and intensive but important way, other
cultural practices provide a grounding force of solidarity that allows
often complex and contentious debate to flourish. Things like dancing
together and working together on the creation of a giant puppet provide
respite from debates about ideals and tactics and also help reinforce a
sense of the collective, a sense of solidarity that can lessen the tensions
that arise from differences.
One of the more important aspects of movement cultures that
includes but goes beyond the direct discussion of ideas or frames of intel-
lectual reference has been labeled collective identity formation. As noted
above, a whole branch of the new social movement school of analysis
began the elaboration of this process.13 Identity transformation is a com
plicated phenomenon, one inadequately theorized by such concepts as
identity politics. Movement-bred identities are neither true selves to be
defended nor disabling essences to be avoided. They are strategically
necessary creations that change as movements change. It is primarily
from outside movements or in moments of movement decline that such
identities are turned into static forms defended in absolutist terms.
Much social science study of social movements is still based in a “ratio-
nal actor” model of the individual subject. Whatever limited utility this
model of identity may have had for understanding the modern, indus-
trial actor, it has far less application to the postmodern, often digitally
embedded subject of most recent social movements. Identities are not
frozen forms into which new content can be poured. Nor are they indi-
vidual creations. All identities are to some degree collective identities.
This is particularly clear with regard to movements that reclaim and to
a degree re-create traditionally marginalized identities (ethnics of color,
lesbians, and so on), but it is equally true that white males have always
practiced and continue to practice identity politics—they have just had
the power to act as though their identity is universal.
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Social movements have been and remain among the key forces
transforming/creating new cultural identities (transgender movements
are a recent example). The egalitarian spirit inside the movements sur-
veyed in this book was a particularly rich source for ongoing experiments
in identity formation and transformation. A more nuanced understand-
ing of the construction of identities within movements can benefit future
movements, but it can also explain more generally the nature of contem
porary culture, where the social construction of identities is more widely
recognized and the struggle over identities is arguably more intense than
in previous eras. Tracing the means by which cultural identities are cre-
ated is therefore of growing importance. In our time, both traditional
mass media and emergent new social media play increasingly active roles
in these identity constructions, and thereby in movement identity for-
mation as well (as stressed in chapter 10 on Occupy). The move from
print to broadcast media to networked computing and other new media
has shaped identity generally and movement identities specifically. And
by looking at identity formation in movements, we can learn a great
deal about these complex processes. Alongside and entwined with new
media, movements have been major forces in the creation of the con-
temporary emphasis on identities.14
At the same time, a proper understanding of social movement iden-
tities can be a useful corrective to the limits of so-called identity politics.
The inherent paradox is that “identity politics” can exist only when
identities are in question. Identity becomes an issue only when it is no
longer presumed, no longer taken for granted. This means that identi-
ties emerging from self-conscious political struggles are always unstable
formations. This should be clear immediately from reflection on the
evolution and proliferation of identities over the past few decades. To
illustrate this simply through self-naming, one could show how a seem-
ingly stable racial signifier changes through the politically evolving sense
of self embodied in a succession of terms: Negro, black, Afro-American,
African American, member of the African diaspora. Each of these succes-
sive identities could be shown to indicate not only ideological shifts
but also the conflicting influence of various interacting class, gender,
national, regional, and sexual identities. Assertions of essential “black”
identity in the face of these changes, embedded as they are in shifts in
racial formations of the culture at large, have never gone unchallenged,
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like labor unions undergo some degree of transformation when they be-
come part of movements, as was the case when the United Farm Work-
ers expanded to become a larger movement. In the era of new social
media, social networks have both proliferated and become more acces-
sible to movement organizers. The relative openness of social media
platforms like Facebook and Twitter makes it easier for movements to
tap into networks of potential recruits.
A subculture is a special, more fully developed or elaborated type
of social network. Subcultures may be ethnic, class based, generational,
aesthetic, religious, or otherwise social in various combinations. Like net-
works in general, they can be more or less overtly political in orienta
tion. But subcultures differ from movement cultures proper to the extent
that they do not always centrally employ strategies that directly challenge
the existing political, economic, or social system. In traditional terms,
some subcultures may function more instrumentally (with direct social
impacts), while others take more expressive or aesthetic forms that
do not directly challenge dominant culture. But these dimensions are
never fully separable, as evidenced by the fact that supposedly merely
expressive subcultures have often been drawn into more overtly political
action. Some subcultures, like the one surrounding punk rock, for ex-
ample, contain disruptive elements that lend themselves well to support
of social movements. In this case, some punk strains have moved to the
left, identifying with anarchist elements of the global justice movements,
while other strands, like the skinheads, have lent support to reactionary
and even fascist movements. Some subcultures are, rhetorically at least,
overtly oppositional (and sometimes therefore called countercultures)
with regard to the dominant culture, while others are content to be
alternative, in a live-and-let-live sense. The fields of cultural studies and
sociology have both done much to explore the nature and meaning(s) of
subcultures.16 But each has shown some of the biases that mar its work
generally in relation to movement study. That is, some cultural studies
work presumes a degree of political contestation built into primarily
aesthetically oriented subcultures that exaggerates their political impact
(with every rock song and video somehow seen as resistant). Conversely,
much of the sociological study of subcultures has had far too little to
say about the symbolic challenges that even relatively nonpolitical sub-
cultures do sometimes offer in opening up alternative visions that can
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activity. Indeed, they use this openness to diversity of style and ideol-
ogy to bolster their claim to being wholly just societies. But at the point
where subcultures become serious threats to the dominant culture’s eco-
nomic or political system, that tolerance disappears. When that point of
threat is reached, however, subcultures can sometimes be politicized
rapidly. This process was at work, for example, at the Stonewall Inn in
Greenwich Village in 1969 when police, by pushing some “queers” too
far, drove an underground subculture to the surface, helping to ignite a
gay liberation movement. While occasionally an entire subculture may
transform into a movement culture, more often only some members of
a given subculture come to the conclusion that they wish to expand
their subculture into a wider frame, or that the existence of their sub
culture can be sustained only by political action. This situation varies
greatly from society to society even within the democratic West. The
United States, for example, has had fewer and far less elaborated sub
cultures than England or Western Europe. This helps to account for the
greater emphasis placed on subcultures as movement cultures or sites
for the launching of movements in the work of European new move-
ment theorists like Alberto Melucci.
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which has a range from more overtly political “message” rap to implic-
itly oppositional forms to co-opted commercial modes.
When analyzing a given cultural formation, Michael Denning
argues, it is useful to distinguish between “cultural politics” and “aes-
thetic ideologies.” He uses the term cultural politics to name the com-
plex of political and institutional affiliations, “the politics of letterheads
and petitions, the stances taken by artists and intellectuals,” and the his-
tory of the cultural-political institutions in which the new formation is
embedded. Aesthetic ideologies, on the other hand, refers to the politics of
form, the actual aesthetic practices, the genres, styles, and conventions
that emerge to embody aspects of the general cultural politics.19 Depend-
ing on the degree of autonomy insisted upon by the artists and intel-
lectuals involved, the cultural politics and aesthetic ideologies may be
closely aligned or widely diverging. Some politically committed artists
see their art as a “weapon” in the struggle, some equally committed ones
insist that their politics and their art are fully separable, and most find
positions between these poles. Frequently within the same cultural for-
mation (and certainly in the same movement culture) there are several
different aesthetic ideologies that need to be sorted out and judged
against specific aesthetico-political criteria. Judging forms ranging from
ephemeral works of agitprop to aesthetically complex works by the same
criteria has often led to dismissive evaluations of all political art. In the
1930s, for example, the leftist cultural front contributed significantly to
both major works of art like the film Citizen Kane and ephemeral works
designed only for a very specific audience of workers on a picket line.
Similarly, the movements and cultural formations of the 1960s produced
street theater meant to be effective for a few days and also contributed
to the creation of brilliant works of literary art by writers like Toni Mor-
rison and Adrienne Rich that will be read for hundreds of years.
This raises the difficult question of the relation between politics and
aesthetics. There is no space to tackle that extremely complicated terrain
here, but let me offer a general principle on which scholars as different
as Raymond Williams and Pierre Bourdieu agree: the logic of politics
and the logic of aesthetic objects seldom, if ever, perfectly coincide. In
Bourdieu’s terms, the economies of culture and the economies of poli-
tics overlap and interact in a variety of ways, but they are never simply
coextensive. Each “field” is subject to internal rules and regularities that
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are peculiarly its own. As mentioned above, the fields meet in that over-
arching terrain he names the “field of power,” but the meeting points
in the field of power never exhaust the meanings of serious works of art,
and political meanings have their own, differing forms. Put differently,
any aesthetic text can be put to political ends, and all aesthetic texts have
political implications, but no aesthetic text is reducible to its political
meanings. Political meanings are not given, they must be interpreted.
And acts of interpretation are always grounded in the social relations of
readers/audiences, including movement actors and movement observers
as interpreters.
Two paradoxical observations by important thinkers of the political-
aesthetic dynamic can perhaps reinforce this point: “The [ideological]
tendency of a work of literature can be politically correct only if it is
also correct in the literary sense” (Walter Benjamin), and “The conflict
between politics and art . . . cannot and must not be solved” (Hannah
Arendt). Benjamin reminds us that form and function are always in-
tertwined, and Arendt reminds us that the meanings of significant (i.e.,
not just instrumental) works of art always exceed their ideological
reduction.
As I will discuss in the section below on the various roles played
by the arts in movements, one crucial role of aesthetically complex, seri-
ous art (as opposed to more purely instrumental forms) is to critique
and transcend ideology.20 Aesthetically rich texts are always both ideo-
logical and more than ideological. They offer deep cultural resonances
(think of old spirituals in the Civil Rights movement) and they can re-
mind activists, who often are tempted by the pressures of political strug-
gle into ideologically reductive positions, that the full lived complexity
of cultural life cannot be reduced to any ideological system.
While movements can be quite culturally creative, culture in move-
ments is never pure, never purely the creation of a movement. Various
mainstream cultural forces continue to play through movement cultures.
For one thing, it is neither possible nor desirable to invent a full culture
out of hand (not every element of mainstream culture is ideologically
“tainted”). For another, it is impossible to remain isolated from the con-
tinuing flow of mainstream culture (even deeply separatist movements
maintain some reliance on the dominant system). The midmovement
adoption of some elements of a movement culture by the mainstream
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may require the movement culture to reshape itself to retain its resistant
otherness. For example, white youth participating in SNCC’s Freedom
Summer adopted blue jeans to express solidarity with poor black farm-
ers. But when jeans became widely fashionable in the late 1960s, they
ceased to function as a marker of movement cultural solidarity.
Conversely, one way to keep mainstream culture at bay is through
appropriation via parody. Movements frequently take elements of main-
stream culture and put movement twists on them. For instance, the
appropriation and parody of mainstream music is found in many move-
ments. Another example is ACT UP’s use of mainstream advertising
techniques, a practice elaborated into a full-fledged movement unto itself
in the form of groups like Adbusters and others of the “culture jamming”
school of social action.21 This process of appropriation and counter
appropriation can become quite elaborate over time. Nike Corporation,
for example, at the height of protests against its allegedly exploitative
labor practices, invited consumer rights advocate Ralph Nader to appear
in one of its television ads, presumably on the calculated gamble that
audiences would infer that any corporation hip enough to feature one of
its prime critics in its advertising could not be all bad (Nader refused).22
Clearly, like the boundaries between and among the political, the
social, the economic, and the cultural, boundaries between subcultures,
cultural formations, and movement cultures are in practice often quite
fluid. No cultural form can remain wholly oppositional or become wholly
co-opted; context is everything in terms of the political valence of any
cultural text. In any full examination of cultural activity in and around
social movements, it is analytically useful to work through something
like this range of more or less distinct components, and to give the
name movement cultures to those contexts that most explicitly and fully
turn cultural forms into sources for wider social change.
In the life cycle of a given movement—and in terms of larger cycles
of protest—cultural formations, subcultures, and movement cultures
undergo various processes of evolution and interaction. Much of this
dynamic can be analyzed well through Raymond Williams’s notion of
“residual, emergent, and dominant” cultural processes.23 Cultural forma-
tions, subcultures, and movement cultures all draw upon elements from
each of these three stages of cultural evolution. The Civil Rights move-
ment, for example, drew upon a residual folk cultural form, the spiritual,
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and turned it into a major resource for the movement. The Black Power
movement, on the other hand, harnessed an emergent pop cultural form,
soul music, that better suited the purposes of its work in urban arenas.
On a different scale, the black liberation struggle overall can be said to
have shifted gears to the Black Power phase when the Civil Rights move-
ment had passed from an emergent into a dominant movement culture
form that was felt as a constraint on some current and many new mem-
bers of the movement community. At that same historical moment,
however, as the Civil Rights repertoire of nonviolent resistance tactics
was passing from dominant to residual for some black activists, it was
being translated into emergent movements for human rights among
women and LGBTQI2+ folks.
Similar logics are at play in the ways in which subcultures and
cultural formations move in and out of movement culture orbits. Some-
times a movement culture can revive a cultural formation or a subcul-
ture, as Occupy seemed to reinvigorate the art scene in New York. And
sometimes an emergent subculture or cultural formation can reinvigo-
rate a movement culture. Often this process is so mutually reinforcing
that it is difficult to tell which force is the dynamic one in the relation-
ship, but making that determination is less important than understand-
ing how the forces work in a symbiosis that furthers the aims of both.
Cultural context always matters. Take, for example, the protest songs of
Bob Dylan. The meaning and resonance of his songs varied greatly from
when he sang in the context of movement culture of SNCC in Green-
wood, Mississippi, in 1964 to when he sang later that year at the March
on Washington where Dr. King gave his “I Have a Dream” speech to
when he sang in the context of the Newport Folk Festival in 1965 as
part of the folk revival cultural formation to when the songs went out
to the wider mass culture via radio and vinyl. Each of these contexts no
doubt worked to support the Civil Rights movement, but each location
did so differently, with a more or less direct impact. The most direct
impact, when Dylan sang to SNCC workers and three hundred local
farmers in Greenwood, reached the smallest audience, while the least
direct impact, via record album and radio play, reached the largest. In that
sense, we could play off depth of impact versus breadth, with no need to
offer a value judgment as to relative importance. Each mode, from face-
to-face to mass-mediated, had and continues to have a role to play.
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as they influence all facets of society, but they are particularly relevant to
social movements, given movements’ often quite dynamic and strategic
use of emotionality. In this work, there is of course a danger that emo-
tions as a movement force will be treated reductively or instrumental-
ized, as opposed to being treated in their full complexity. And in this
approach there will always be a (creative) tension between individual-
izing and structural approaches to emotions.
We can link emotions to what Raymond Williams calls structures
of feeling.30 Williams argues that our supposedly subjective emotions
are as collectively structured as other aspects of our social life, that those
structures differ in relation to a host of social factors (age, gender, race/
ethnicity, and so on), and that they change historically. They also of
course range immensely across ethno-national culture borders. Move-
ments themselves have been one key force in reshaping emotions in ways
that bring about new sensibilities, new structures of feeling that, like
other aspects of movement cultures, spread out into the wider world in
a variety of ways.
While no doubt in danger of being read reductively, my reference
to movements’ mobilization of emotions above is meant to counter the
notion that emotions are somehow beyond our control, something that
we undergo rather than direct, as both narrow rational actor theories
and reductive forms of discourse analysis can sometimes suggest. That
we are not in full conscious control of our emotions is of course true,
since much of our emotional life takes place via subconscious processes
we can never fully know or consciously direct (neuroscientists discuss
“feelings” as the way we become partly conscious of these complex affec-
tive processes). But because emotions are inherently thought-filled, and
because we are highly self-conscious creatures (in a positive sense), we
can learn to shape our emotions to a considerable degree as individuals,
and movements can do so as well. When the Women’s Pentagon Action
scripted its protest into four sections, each built around a dominant affec-
tive context—“Mourning,” “Rage,” “Empowerment,” and “Defiance”—
it gave a particularly clear example of how a movement can learn to chan-
nel emotions in positive and affective (in the larger sense) ways. This
case is particularly illustrative, since it precisely names a process that turns
an inchoate and potentially destructive feeling (rage) into a directed,
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While most of these roles for the arts should be easy to grasp, the
last two, related roles—the contra-ideological and the purely pleasur
able—may need explication. In using the term role in this context, I
know that I risk implying a narrowly instrumentalist, functionalist,
reading. On the one hand, I welcome this because I wish to counter the
idea that the arts are merely added on to more important movement
work. Not only a strand of movement theorists but also some hard-nosed
critics inside movements are often impatient with aspects of movement
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cultures they see as “merely expressive”—that is, without any direct rel-
evance to the “real struggle” at hand. This tendency often manifests
itself as the insistence that all participants behave at all times in a manner
consistent with movement goals and values. In movement practice, this
can evolve into a rigid kind of political correctness that will eventually
end up in a perfect movement of one person. Within social movement
theory, this approach has largely been rejected as naive instrumentalism—
the reduction of culture to decoration. In trying to counter the decora-
tive, vaguely expressive limit placed by some on the role of the arts, I
do not want to limit myself on the other side to an idea of the arts as
narrowly practical in importance. While many artful texts do play vital,
practical roles in movements, that is not their only function. They can
have key roles to play precisely in undermining the merely functional
and in countering a movement’s own limitations.
Movement growth is often dependent on two things: an openness
that allows novices a space to learn, and veterans a space to escape from,
movement ideology; and a capacity to shift values, strategies, tactics,
and even goals, which can be nurtured by cultural play that undermines
ideological rigidity. Periods of plain pleasure divorced from the context
of struggle can play a vital role in preventing a problem endemic in move-
ments, burnout. Movements can be quite stressful environments, given
the intense emotions that struggling against the dominant culture can
evoke. Pleasurable activities with no discernible connection to activism
can help to relieve that stress.
At the same time, as is perhaps abundantly clear given the promi-
nent role that political satire has been playing in U.S. politics in recent
years through The Daily Show, The Colbert Report, Full Frontal, This Week
Tonight, Saturday Night Live, and other politically engaged entertain-
ment shows, subversive humor can sometimes provide relief from the
stresses of activism while also offering significant political education.31
While some hard-core types dismiss humor as unserious, I take the oppo-
site view: no one lacking a sense of humor should be taken seriously.
Humor can also play a key role in the dimension that I call coun-
terideological, which includes not only direct attack on limited ideas
in movements but also that broader aesthetic capacity (noted above) to
give voice to a fuller complexity of lived experience, a greater depth and
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example, has a very elaborated music culture that plays a significant role
in recruitment and indoctrination of members.33 But the arts are only
one element making up the cultural universe of movements, and all of
the functions cited above can be applied as well to other not formally
aesthetic elements of movements. While I have used examples from
the arts to illustrate roles above, these roles can also be thought of more
generally as roles played by the wider range of cultural activities in
movements beyond the more specialized aesthetic variety.
In the realm of verbal expression, for example, it is important to
note that works of verbal art sit somewhere along a spectrum in move-
ments from individual slogans, chants, and memes to media statements
to manifestos expressing full-fledged ideological elaborations. Likewise,
with regard to the spectrum of dramatic enactments in movements,
elaborately staged works of theater or performance art exist alongside
more everyday rituals (such as the chanting of slogans) and gestures
(like idiosyncratic hand signals in meetings) as well as ritualized acts
of civil disobedience (like sit-ins). And, of course, marches and rallies
are ritualized activities that play vital roles in group cultural cohesion,
as well as in signaling the wider culture. When opponents claim that
mass arrests and other events are “staged,” they are not wrong, but they
precisely miss the point. Staged activities can, of course, function both
for the sake of internal solidarity and as ways to symbolically deepen
the movement’s engagement with wider publics. In an unfortunately
inelegant acronym (WUNC), the great movement historian and theo-
rist Charles Tilly succinctly named four central elements of move-
ment messaging in large-scale public displays: worth, unity, numbers,
and commitment. These elements nicely summarize the point of much
movement theatricality broadly construed.34 My argument includes the
notion that the more movements can understand their own perfor-
mance as performance, the more they can achieve a certain degree of
aesthetic distance, the more successful they are likely to become. Part
of my argument about the Black Panthers (in chapter 2) is that if they
had developed a more complete aesthetic understanding of their real-
life performances, they might have had greater impact and not become
trapped in their own dramatic story lines. Put more generally, some-
times real art can teach greater artfulness in the larger sense of thought-
ful strategies.
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MOVEMENTS IN CULTURE
By movements in culture, I mean the processes by which movements
emerge from and return to broader cultural contexts. I have noted some
of the ways this happens in previous sections, so here I want to pull some
of those notions together and add some new ones. As I have suggested,
movements emerge out of given general sets of cultural contexts and
then evolve specific sets of cultural features (movement cultures). As
a third step, they often diffuse (circulate, spread) novel moral values,
behaviors, styles, ideas, material objects, social practices, and identities
back into the wider culture.35 Even among the most conservative “con-
sensus movements” (like Mothers Against Drunk Driving), the very act
of stepping outside conventional politics to express a grievance opens
up possibilities for re-viewing the wider culture. As we move across the
spectrum toward ever more deeply oppositional or radical movements,
that re-viewing and questioning process grows more intensive and ex-
tensive. Over the course of a movement and in its aftermath, elements
of the movement culture are diffused (spread) back into the wider cul-
ture in a number of ways. One prominent scholar, Marco Giugni, goes
so far as to suggest that “it is perhaps precisely in being able to alter their
broader cultural environment that movements can have their deepest
and lasting impact.”36 Another influential figure in movement scholar-
ship, Doug McAdam, seems to agree and suggests a key reason: “Given
the entrenched political and economic opposition movements are likely
to encounter, it is often true that their biggest impact is more cultural
than narrowly political and economic.”37
This diffusion of movement culture back into mainstream culture
can indeed be the most important impact a given movement may have.
Yet it is among the least studied aspects of movements, and it is not dif-
ficult to see why. Culture is a messy business; it is clearly a less easily
measured object of analysis than Supreme Court rulings, legislation, or
income patterns. But for social scientists to ignore a whole terrain and
its impact just because it is not easily quantifiable seems, well, highly
unscientific. One key reason culture may be a more fruitful avenue for
change than politics or economics is that cultural institutions tend to be
relatively more open and less defensive than these other realms. Indeed,
since at least the rise of modernism in the arts, innovation has been
an imperative in much cultural production. Particularly since the early
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would call themselves feminists or ever had direct contact with a wom-
en’s movement group. A widely used women’s studies classroom experi-
ment reveals how this process manifests itself. The professor writes on
the board a list of women’s movement issues: equal pay for equal work,
equity in sports access, right to reproductive freedom, equality in male–
female personal relations, better rape prevention and victims’ rights,
and so on. The instructor then asks who in the class supports each of
these items. In most classrooms, even in relatively conservative com-
munities, the response to virtually all the items is one of overwhelming
support. Then the professor asks the next question: How many of the
students in the class are feminists? The hands raised, even in relatively
liberal communities, are usually very, very few. Every one of the issues
listed emerged out of feminist social movement struggle, yet virtually
no one among those supporting the issues identifies with the movement
that put them forth.
This story illustrates what I call the paradox of diffusion and defu-
sion. The ideas of the women’s movement have been diffused with strik-
ing success out into the wider culture, but they have been detached
from their movement origins (and, in varying degrees, defused from
their most challenging forms). Just as it is axiomatic that movements
seldom get credit for changes they force upon government and nongov-
ernment institutions, it is axiomatic that changes in norms initiated by
social movement activity pass through enough levels of mediation to
make the origins of those changes invisible. The underlying reason is
the same in both cases: most institutions, whether political or cultural,
are invested in their own stability, while movements thrive on engen-
dering instability.
Movement cultures are diffused into the wider culture on several
different levels, reflecting the layers of culture within movements them-
selves. In the broadest sense, we can talk about culture being diffused
through folk culture (as was the case with some Civil Rights music), pop-
ular culture (as in the case of rock music’s relation to the anti-apartheid
movement of the 1980s, discussed in chapter 6), and/or high culture (as
in the case of the profusion of feminist-inflected poetry, detailed in
chapter 4).
So, the central paradox is that the energies of radical movement
cultures and the cultural forms they generate have their greatest impact
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when they are diffused in a less overtly ideological way into the larger
social arena via cultural movements. But that impact can be largely defused
(can lose its power to explode dominant ideas) unless self-consciously
ideological social movements continue their work.38 This ongoing, irre-
solvable, creative tension between defusion and diffusion can be a key
point of study for the cultural analysis of movements. Movement cul-
tures are partly implicated in, not wholly immune to, these processes
of appropriation, co-optation, and defusion. But, as many chapters of
this book have shown, they are also one of the primary means of resist-
ing the forces that would reduce all culture to economic exchange in the
course of instantiating a tragically unequal and unjust globalized capi-
talist system.
As the new media struggle around the Battle of Seattle (discussed
in chapter 9) and the Occupy movement (in chapter 10) illustrate par-
ticularly well, the diffusing and defusing of movement texts entails an
increasingly intricate dance involving mainstream media, social media,
and various forms of alternative media in and around movements. The
increasing speed and intensity of processes that commodify or other-
wise appropriate dissent has complicated the articulation of cultural
politics and alternative political cultures. Given these tendencies, it seems
crucial to understand more fully the processes by which movements
help create contexts of cultural reception and produce alternative cul-
tures that can better resist co-optation.
While it is important to be as precise as possible in characterizing
the impacts of culture on movements and movements on culture, we
should not let a supposed “rigor” often bordering on rigor mortis under-
play the most significant impacts of movements. Sometimes movement
cultures are most effectively diffused into the wider society through a
general transgression of cultural codes. Swidler puts it this way: “Even
without conscious efforts at publicity, one of the most important effects
social movements have is publicly enacting images that confound exist-
ing cultural codings. From the punk subculture’s deliberate embrace of
‘ugly’ styles . . . to the Black Panthers’ display of militant, disciplined,
armed black revolutionaries to the New Left spectacle of middle-class
college students being beaten by the police . . . altering cultural codings
is one of the most powerful ways social movements actually bring about
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HIDDEN TRANSCRIPTS
Much of the most important cultural action in movements occurs on
that notoriously fuzzy terrain called consciousness. Movements gener-
ate new ways of thinking, new ways of being, new norms of behavior,
new styles of living (as opposed to mere “lifestyles”), all of which con-
tain an element of what has historically been classified as the “subjective.”
Some of these new ways of being are eventually expressed in the formal
political realm of parties, elections, legal decisions, and legislation, but
more often they are embodied in indirect ways for which movements
seldom get the credit (from the society at large or from scholars of move-
ments). Beneath the more studied level of formal ideologies, or even
elaborated cognitive “frames,” are levels of often contradictory but always
socially meaningful layers of consciousness that neither empiricists nor
historical materialists and social constructionists are very comfortable
with. One need not devolve back to a naive notion of individualism
to understand that socially constructed subjective experience is embod-
ied variably in particular persons even when those persons are subject to
broad social-discursive patterns.
To leave these dimensions unexplored is to do damage, even vio-
lence, to movements and to the deeply aggrieved lives out of which
movements often arise. Recent social and cultural theories have given us
better tools to challenge simplistic dichotomies between objective and
subjective, the materialist and the idealist. The meaning-making pro-
cesses of culture are neither independent of nor narrowly dependent
upon material conditions. In not taking seriously qualities like pride,
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the world altered profoundly in ways that are never translated into
overt, visible actions. An elderly “Negro” who watched with deep pride
those Black Panthers marching on the seat of state power in Sacramento
in 1968, or, decades later, an older black woman who watched as Black
Lives Matter activists protested police brutality—neither may have ever
joined a movement, but the lives of both were changed for the better
through an enhanced sense of self-worth.
At the same time, any argument that so-called subjective factors
have become more important than ever in our putative “information
age” must be made with caution. Without that caution, we get state-
ments like this: “In the contemporary context, we can define exploita-
tion as a form of dependent participation in the information flow, as
the deprivation of control over the construction of meaning. The true
exploitation is not the deprivation of information; even in the shanty-
towns of the cities of the Third World people are today widely exposed
to the media, only they do not have any power to organize this informa-
tion according to their own needs. Thus, the real domination is today
the exclusion from the power of naming.”47 This is hyperbole bordering
on nonsense. The “real” power is the power of naming? This takes the
now self-evident insight that cultural coding is important and turns it
into a claim that cultural coding is the only important power. The mate-
rial conditions of those shantytowns are unimportant? Does the lack of
hygiene and nutrition, or the opportunity to go to school or the mate-
rial quality of schools, play no role in the conditions in which power is
organized? This particular kind of analysis does great disservice to the
power of serious discourse analysis, and to the important task of respect-
ing the lived experience of marginalized peoples.
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their findings. The first to speak was a collective behaviorist. He had heard
an elephant charging through the jungle and, after having nearly been
trampled, declared that elephants are dangerous, anarchic things, prone
to rioting and mob actions. The next safarist, a resource mobilization
theorist, walked right into the side of a sleeping elephant. She declared
the creature to be a solid, well-organized thing, rather like a carefully
built wall. A third theorist, from the political process camp, followed an
elephant as it moved about its habitat, and declared that the most inter-
esting thing about elephants is how their behavior is determined by the
shifting opportunities for food found in their part of the jungle. Another
theorist, a fanciful thinker from the social constructionist school, became
fascinated by the elephant’s large, fanlike ears. She opined that elephant
ears function rather like satellite dishes, taking in information about the
jungle, processing it in uniquely elephantine ways, then transmitting
it anew into the wider jungle. Throughout these reports, one theorist,
of the historical materialist persuasion, was looking mildly perturbed.
When his turn came, he declared it self-evident that the elephant’s large,
tree-trunk-like legs are the foundation on which all other elements
of elephantness ultimately depend. Finally, a social movement theorist
focused on the arts spoke, eloquently describing the loud but lovely
trumpet sounds emanating from the elephant’s trunk. This theorist felt
certain of having begun to decipher the most important aspect of the
elephant, declaring that in essence elephants are singers, artfully shaping
the jungle purely through the power and beauty of their song. Clearly,
those tree-trunk legs, the massive torso, satellite-dish ears, and unpre-
dictably whiplike tail are merely secondary enablers of the performance.
Meanwhile, as daylight broke, a whole herd of elephants walked by
unnoticed as the scholars debated their respective theories.
My revision of the famous Sufi allegory is meant to acknowledge
succinctly some of the rich body of work done on movements over the
past half century. But it is also a cautionary tale about the beastly com-
plexity of movements, suggesting that no one will ever capture one (alive)
for their particular, private movement zoo. The Sufi tale, in my reading,
is not a call for a total theory of elephants (or movements) but rather a
call to respect the integrity of the creature and to recognize the inevita-
ble partialness of perspective. Likewise, the summary I have offered in
this essay is not meant to add up to a total theory of movements, or
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even of the role of the arts in movements. In my view, the great variety
of movements, and the differing conditions in which they arise and
evolve, makes any attempt to find their essence both futile and danger-
ous. The danger lies both in misunderstanding the complex, varied
dynamics of movements and in inadvertently missing (or indirectly sti-
fling) the creativity of movements, missing their ability to shape-shift in
response to new conditions.
In this brief overview essay, I have tried to give some sense of the
complicated forces that surround and work through social movements. I
have stressed cultural factors in this summary because until recently they
have been less emphasized, and because I use art as the focus to intro-
duce the ten movements I discuss in this book. But in each chapter I have
tried to show that the other forces that have more often been studied in
relation to movements—organizational patterns, political processes, eco
nomic resources, leadership styles, and so on—are also extremely impor-
tant. These are crucial aspects of movements and must remain part of any
full agenda for analyzing movements. In these reflections, I have noted
a number of ways in which recent cultural theory has argued that social,
economic, and political forces cannot be understood apart from the
cultural processes through which they take on meaning. These divisions
themselves—social, economic, political, cultural—are, after all, socially
constructed, cultural concepts, not real things neatly dividing the world.
Given the focus of this book, I have concentrated on some of the many
ways that artistic and cultural texts, among other material-discursive prac-
tices, have played and continue to play important roles in movements.
My goal has not been to argue for these particular forms as more impor-
tant than other forces and discourses, but rather to see them as one cru-
cial part of this larger set of factors. Material-discursive means precisely
that political economy, organizational structures, social institutions, and
other forces are always intertwined with even the most seemingly ethe-
real forms of discourses. In suggesting something of the wide range of
relevant theory and method that can help us better understand move-
ments, I hope to encourage anyone interested in these issues to use my
endnotes and the companion website to delve more deeply into what I
could only touch upon here in quick, abstract outline.
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