When The Tents Go Down…

In the face of threat, care. In the face of violence, community. This is the culture of the local peace economy.

By Emily Franko

The student encampments across the country are not just protests; they’re also flourishing local peace economies, and they’re showing us what’s possible for how we can live together in community.

Jodie Evans, co-founder of CODEPINK, describes the peace economy as the giving, sharing, caring, thriving, relational resilient economy without which none of us would be alive. Even in the midst of the war economy here in the U.S., the peace economy is all around us. It takes the form of co-ops, of community gardens and CSAs, of mutual aid groups, of makerspaces and art gatherings, of skillshares and timebanks, of tool libraries and clothing swaps. The peace economy is how we get our needs met in community, together. Offering what we have, asking for what we need.

Students have been able to sustain their encampments-for weeks, in all forms of weather, and at times in the face of violence-because they are practicing ways of relating to each other inherent in the peace economy.

In the span of just one hour while at the encampment in Denver (where I live), three different people approached me to offer me something-a poncho (it was rainy and cold), snacks, and warm chana masala. I felt so cared for. And that’s the point-care is the essence of the local peace economy.

When I spoke with others who’ve been present at the Denver encampment over the last couple weeks, they expressed the ways that the culture of care was tangible for them as well.

“I was impressed by the amount of things that they had to share,” said A. Herrold (ze/zir), another Denver resident. Hand warmers, Turkish coffee, fidget toys, pizza-these were all being shared amongst the people at the encampment while ze was there. A. Herrold also noted a tent that was set up for people to practice any faith, and all were invited. While I was there, I was invited to participate in Shabbat dinner by Jewish students present.

Lee, a Boulder resident, brought her children to the encampment and was struck and inspired by how inviting of an environment it was for her family. “That’s the actual human nature-to be together and to support each other. And you saw that at the encampment,” she said. While there, Lee and her kids participated in a “know your rights” skillshare, as well as a cross-stitch circle, where they learned Palestinian embroidery. All the materials were provided. “You had your kit to do your sewing. The person teaching me was really patient,” she said.

Mutual aid, skillsharing, makerspaces, shared rituals… these are all hallmarks of the local peace economy, and this is what we each experienced at the Denver encampment. It wasn’t just material needs that were being met; our spirits were being fed, too.

“Everything was just there,” said Lee. “And it wasn’t stressful … All your needs-everything was just there with no greed.”

Imagine: our collective needs being met in a way that actually brings us joy rather than stress, that nourishes us rather than drains us. This is the local peace economy. And this is what’s being attacked-at home on college campuses by police, and abroad in other countries by the U.S. and Israeli militaries. It’s the same orientation, the same strategy: use violent force against people taking their wellbeing into their own hands (rather than relying on capitalism), in places where people feel their power together in community.

Chelsea, another Denver-area resident, told me a story from the encampment that’s stuck with me. She was present on a day where police entered the campus and began acting aggressively and eventually arresting several students, all protesting peacefully. As students linked arms around the camp to protect it, others offered them food, water, sunscreen-whatever they needed to stay regulated in a moment of deep tension and threat. One man pulled a cart of homemade tamales behind him, offering them to the students encircling the camp.

In the face of threat, care. In the face of violence, community. This is the culture of the local peace economy.

“It’s just this organism,” Chelsea said. “I’m here for you. You’re here for me. Let’s help each other.”

“I think it’s what we’ve all been starved for,” said A. Herrold. “It’s that alienation that comes from capitalism. Alienation from ourselves and also other people that kind of leads you to believe that your needs won’t be met or that you can only look out for yourself. And then you go to a space like this, and it almost makes you want to cry because people aren’t greedy. They’re very open. They want people to be taken care of. They’re thinking about other people. It’s just really beautiful.”

At some point, the encampments on college campuses will go away-and hopefully there are far fewer universities invested in Israel when that happens. But the culture of the encampments… that doesn’t need to end when the tents go down. And cultivating that culture wherever we are is a way out of this whole thing. In the words of Jodie Evans, “war serves the war economy. We’re not going to end war until we end the war economy.” It takes each of us. We are each seeds of the local peace economy in our communities. It’s time to grow, together.

To learn more about the local peace economy, click.

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Emily is the Local Peace Economy Coordinator at CODEPINK.

Emily’s past work in nonprofits and philanthropy deepened her commitment to dismantling systems of domination, within herself and in collective, and creating conditions where people can get what they need. She aims to cultivate cultures of belonging wherever she is and is excited to be doing work that supports people in creating those cultures in their own communities as CODEPINK’s Local Peace Economy Coordinator. Emily holds a Master’s in Leadership for Sustainability from the University of Vermont and a Bachelor’s in Sociology from Boston College.