A Paradise Built in Hell: The Extraordinary Communities That Arise in Disaster

During the Chou dynasty in ancient China, rulers claimed that they ruled by the “mandate of heaven” (ti’en ming), a divine right to rule. A revolution was called ge-ming—“to strip away […] the mandate” (208) or lose justification for their rule. Even today, earthquakes are seen in China “as signs that rulers have lost the mandate” (208).

Solnit explains that disaster puts the government’s performance, with its failures or successes, into stark relief. It creates a moment when the government’s legitimacy is challenged. This is another reason for “elite panic.” In disasters, elites are tested at “what they do least well” (209), which is to address the public’s needs. Furthermore, in disasters, the government can be inadequate or even irrelevant as it fails to address the urgent needs of disaster relief and citizen groups step in.

Disasters can prompt regime change and ideological shifts. In Lisbon, immediately after the earthquake and tsunami of 1755, one of the King’s chief ministers, Pombal, suddenly grabbed power. He modernized Lisbon and updated building codes. The earthquake is recognized as one of the sparks of the European Enlightenment—a move away from “authority and religiosity towards individual reason and doubt” (212).

The 1972 earthquake that destroyed much of Managua, the capitol of Nicaragua, helped bring about the Sandinista revolution. Following the quake, dictator Somoza saw he could profit from developing the wealthier outskirts of Managua rather than rebuilding the poor and working-class city center. To facilitate this process, he declared martial law. When aid came, much of it was inappropriate and poorly distributed, and citizen’s networks did much more to provide aid. Somoza seized control of assets and industry with a fervor that made even the elites turn against him. The Sandinista insurgency grew, as did support for revolution, and in June 1979 Somoza’s government was toppled in the last “old style leftist revolution” (216). This did not last, however, as the Reagan administration funded the anti-Sandinista guerilla Contras that usurped the Sandinistas’ power.

Solnit then discusses the general relationship between disaster and revolution. While emphasizing that there is “no formula” for how a disaster leads to a revolution or other notable change, the relationship is striking. Both contain elements of utopia and “share aspects of solidarity, uncertainty, possibility” and an end or suspension of ordinary systems that govern life (220).

The chapter ends with Juan Perón’s rise to power in Argentina after the 1944 San Juan earthquake that killed 10,000. Perón provided top-down aid that did not involve people in their own recovery. He remained in power for six decades, ruling with an “authoritarian populism” that led to disenfranchisement, low rates of participation in public life, and lack of public trust. In 2000, mass protests erupted in response to financial crisis brought on by neoliberal policies. These protests were “joyful” and recovered a sense of social unity. Civil society was renewed, emphasizing non-hierarchy, popular agency, and “politics of affection” (224). Solnit wonders if the “real revolution,” in which a sense of community is felt most strongly, occurs between regimes, before the new regime solidifies and the revolution’s afterglow fades. Still, some of the good manages to hold on.

This chapter explores the ways in which disasters and revolutions are akin to carnivals and other celebrations. In both, there is “an upheaval” of normalcy and a “meeting ground” for public interaction. Solnit writes that carnival, referring to celebrations in general and the Christian festivities that occur before Lent in particular, is a “hectic, short lived and raucous version of utopia” (243). Carnival is a kind of revolution: an overthrow of the existing order in which people “merge exuberantly.” There are limits to the carnival utopia, however, whereas there are no limits to disaster. Carnival functions as a scheduled means to temporarily “reap disaster’s benefits” without the suffering (244).

Historically, carnival and other festivals have often involved an inversion of social hierarchies and a suspension of social norms. Solnit argues that these celebrations take place outside of ordinary, “productive” time. Carnival, often described as “liminal,” occurs between the regular cycles of work time and suspends normalcy, often including subversive elements and challenges to authority. Above all, it emphasizes coming together as a whole society. Carnival’s brevity may be why it functions so well as a utopia. Anarchist theorist Hakim Bey describes the spaces created by carnivals as temporary autonomous zones (TAZs) that can thrive precisely because of their ephemerality. The TAZ can be dissolved and recreated elsewhere before it is crushed by the state.

William Wordsworth’s poem “The Prelude” describes France’s revolution, which was just beginning when he wrote it, as a festival. In the poem, he captures “a joy magnified by its shared condition; the suspension of ordinary time; and the sense of a transformed human nature that opens up tremendous, hopeful possibility” (250). This is a common sentiment in the early days of many revolutions, when the future feels hopeful and people feel empowered and community oriented.

Jubilee was a festival, described in Leviticus to occur every 50 years, in which slaves were freed, debts were cancelled, and a long break from work was taken. Jubilee, like some disasters, breaks down hierarchies. In other cases, the status quo again takes over and no positive long-term change takes place. Solnit argues that arguments against public gatherings, parades, and other celebrations as being “useless” are wrong. These events “produce society” itself. The celebration cannot go on forever, or there will be nothing to celebrate, but Solnit holds that ordinary time needs to be interrupted occasionally—not necessarily by disaster but by celebration.

The chapter ends with a discussion of lucha libre, Mexico’s popular wrestling spectacle in which costumed and masked characters representing good and evil fight. The characters often spill over into pop culture. Solnit writes that it is “the most carnivalesque of sports” with its reliance on costume and transformation and its embodiment of “metaphysical concerns about power, ethics, and justice” (255). One wrestler, Super Barrio, emerged after the 1985 earthquake, representing and advocating for the poor. He attended protests and evictions, fully costumed. The character became iconic and even made his way into politics, supporting a populist candidate for president during one election. Since then, carnivalesque elements of activism have become increasingly common, often espousing the principle of “prefiguration,” in which activists try to embody and enact the world they wish to see, resulting in celebratory rather than grievance-based protest tactics and aesthetics.

The Zapatistas, an indienous separatist group in Mexico, also used tactics of anonymity through wearing masks and bandanas. They became known for using powerful rhetoric and engaging civil society across the world for their cause and value improvisation in the formation of alternative societies.