Seed Form Theory

Abstract

The final chapter explores how the seed form of commonism—the commons—can become societally dominant. It introduces the five-step process, a heuristic model for analysing historical processes of qualitative change. It discusses various existing commons such as open pastures, free software and commoning within top-end multinationals or social movements, as well as their limits and strengths. The main section assesses different scenarios of a shift in dominance from capitalism to commonism, such as slow expansion, crisis, partner state and social movements. It ends with some remarks on current practices.

In this chapter we intend to develop the commonist seed form theory. The name is based on the assumption that the new society develops from seed forms. In Chap. 3 we presented the idea that a qualitative change of society towards a free society must be conceptualised (and carried out) as a constituting process of a new form of society. This theoretical demand is our starting point. The seed form theory is a possibility of giving substance to this demand of transvolution. It is not the only way of doing this. The framework we have previously described allows for the inclusion of other transvolution theories, and we invite their development. The presentation of the elements of the seed form theory aims at opening it to discussion and criticism, thus enabling further development. The seed form theory attempts to conceptualise the qualitative change of the societal form.

A new society does not fall from the sky but must emerge from the old society. So, the point is: how does a new form of society emerge from the old one? To this, the seed form theory answers that the new can already be found in the old but still in the form of a seed, enclosed in the old conditions. And yet, this seed form embodies the quality it can develop into a new society. In our theory of society (cf. Chap. 5, 2.) we discussed the mediation form as a decisive element of society. That is why the new quality of the seed form must appear as a new mediation form. This new mediation form is restricted in the old society and only becomes dominant in the new society.

FormalPara History of the Five-Step Process

The version of the five-step process presented here has many precursors. We have critically viewed these precursors (Holzkamp 1983; Meretz 2012, 2014) and arrived at some changes which hopefully provide more clarity. The five steps go back to Klaus Holzkamp. He is the founding father of Critical Psychology, which in this book we refer to in many ways. In his main work Grundlegung der Psychologie (1983, working title: Foundation of Psychology, available in German only, translation in progress) he extracted “five steps of the analysis of change from quantity to quality” (ibid., p. 78) from the historical analysis of the origin and development of the psyche. Holzkamp traced the origins of the psyche. However, we believe the five-step process is equally heuristic for describing qualitative changes in other systems—for example, societies. In this sense it has, so far at least, helped us considerably.

1 Five-Step Process as a Heuristic

The seed form theory is based on a methodical heuristic,¹ the “five-step process”. For analytic purposes, it divides qualitative changes into five sections. Sometimes the five-step process is seen as a claim or settlement. We do not insist on five steps or assert that intermediate steps cannot occur. The five-step process is an attempt to find terms for a qualitative change. So far, these terms have served us well; however, there still might be something missing.

The five-step process is not an act of magic. The new does not fall from the sky but emerges as a new function within the old system (seed form).² These seed forms create a new system form (shift of dominance) to which the whole system adjusts (restructuring). The rest of the terms follow from that: the new develops on the basis of certain requirements (preconditions) and a contradictory dynamic within the old system (contradiction in development).

At this point, it is important to stress that the five-step process represents a logical and not necessarily temporal sequence, although some steps must indeed follow each other. The five-step process can only be explained in hindsight, when the actual process is a thing of the past. Thus, it is a retrospective analysis. The question regarding the new can be put this way: what were the preconditions and what course did the process of emergence and enforcement follow? The new must be taken for granted. For us, the new is commonism, a categorical utopia of possibility (Chap. 6). Even though commonism is not a reality, we presume it is and look back: how did it come about? We pretend the matter is settled in order to gain insight. Therefore, one thing is for sure: we cannot be sure. Knowing that, we can learn a lot from looking back virtually, a process that will help us in taking practical steps.

The five logical steps can be structured in two blocks. The first two steps in fact only name the preconditions, inner prerequisites and outer framework conditions, including the contradictions that occur as the process unfolds. The last three steps deal with the actual development process. This development entails two qualitative leaps, and in the last step the whole system is restructured according to the new function. We will now explain the five steps, which we have illustrated in Fig. 7.1. Then we will give an example (the origins of capitalism) to illustrate the structure, which at the beginning might appear somewhat vague and general.

• 1. The preconditions are the inner prerequisites which the development of the new is based on. There can be one or more prerequisites.

• 2. Prerequisites alone, however, are not sufficient. There has to be a dynamic, a contradiction in the course of development, which requires and promotes the emergence of a new function. In the best case—the one we focus on—the new function develops and solves the contradiction. The contradiction can result from changes in the external conditions as well as the inner prerequisites, and it can change in the course of the development (cf. 4.).

• 3. The function shift describes the first step in qualitative development. Based on the prerequisites, the seed form emerges—for example, by joining two qualities which have been separate so far. A new function develops, specifically regarding the further development. This new function represents a new quality compared to the old one, which is still dominant. At the same time, the seed form is active in the old system, thus supporting this system in decline. This is called double functionality: the new function supports the old and is, at the same time, incompatible with it; therefore, it cannot be integrated into the old without losing its new quality. That means that if the seed form were to be integrated, it would lose its quality and character as seed form. That would be the end of the development process. This case we do not discuss here.

• 4. The shift of dominance is the second qualitative development step. The old and the new functions change positions: the new function prevails and, as of then, dominates the dynamic of the system; the old function recedes. When the shift of dominance reaches the point of no return, it is a singularity: the change is selective and unpredictable. The transition from the function shift to the shift of domination is advanced by a certain contradiction in the course of development. We assume this contradiction is not necessarily the contradiction in the course of development which generated the seed form (cf. 2.). The following contradiction in development can be a different one. That is actually a question of history and cannot be answered schematically.

• 5. The restructuring finally extends the new functionality to the whole system. Consequently, these parts are also captured and penetrated by the new function, which had no essential part in the shift of function and domination. The whole system develops a new quality.

Fig. 7.1

Illustration of the heuristic five-step process

These ideas seem complex, but the theory is actually quite simple: there are preconditions creating the basis for the development of a new quality. A dynamic within the old system drives the development into a development contradiction. The quality of a new system emerges (function shift) and becomes dominant (dominance shift). Finally, the whole system adjusts to the new logic (restructuring).

2 Historical Analogy: The Origins of Capitalism

2.1 The Analysis of Societal Transformation

The five-step process as a heuristic seems complex and vague due to its many terms. Therefore, we would like to illustrate the concept by looking at the historical transformation of a specific society. Can the five-step process be helpful in understanding the origin of capitalism?

Before we go into the five-step process we must be clear about a number of things: what object are we dealing with? What is the object’s central dimension of development? What function governs the development of the respective dimension? In the general presentation we omitted these preconditions. The content analysis must be clear about this in order to stay on the right track. Figure 7.2 illustrates the following explanation.

Fig. 7.2

Object, dimension, function and goal of societal transformation

Our object is society. The goal is the emergence of a qualitatively new form of society. The central dimension of development of our object, society, is the form in which people proactively produce* their life conditions; in short: the re/production form. This re/production form changes its quality in the transition from one form of society to another. Just a reminder: we can conceptualise the re/production form as the relation between the elementary form and the system form. The elementary form represents the dominant rationale of action for securing individual existence; the system form is the “materialised” system rationale. Both depend on each other (cf. Chap. 5, 2.1). The local, interpersonal activity locally produces the overall societal system, which—with its system rationale as a precondition—gives local activity its functionality (securing existence).

The function dominating the dynamic and development of the re/production form is mediation. Mediation establishes the societal relationships between people. It dominates the production* form—whether it prioritises cost-efficiency, religious rules or needs. The mediation corresponding to the re/production form also has two elements: direct cooperation at the level of the elementary form rests on interpersonal relationships, while the mediated-societal system form is based on transpersonal relationships. A new re/production form always involves a new form of relationship (cf. Adamczak 2017).

2.2 The Origins of Capitalism

The empirical-historical basis of the following presentation mainly stems from Marxist historian Heide Gerstenberger (1990). The five-step heuristic can surely be applied to other explanations of the origins of capitalism. Here we want to focus on the shift of domination, for it is the element that seems most thrilling to us.

We are looking at societal development, so society is our object. To begin with, we must define the goal, given that the five-step process is an analysis in hindsight. In our case it is capitalism, which we put in a nutshell in Chap. 1, 3. The central dimension of development is the re/production form, and the dominant function is the mediation form. In the transition to capitalism the mediation form of exchange became the exchange of equivalents. So, the five-step process must explain how the previous exchange, being inconsistent and variable, became dominant in society and thus turned into the general exchange of equivalents (cf. Chap. 1, 3.1, p. 16). For as long as capitalist mediation was not generalised in society, the general exchange of equivalents was also impossible. The exchange of equivalents as a general societal mediation form came to be when domination detached itself from the inconsistent exchange form, governed by variable local and societal conditions. This form of exchange—we named it variable exchange—is the seed form of capitalism in the feudal society. It is a subordinated principle and often surfaces without being dominant in society. Now we turn to the five-step process.

We should begin by explaining how the seed form of variable exchange came into being. The preconditions could be social practices of giving and counter-giving, geographical differences and so on. Which contradiction in development could have made exchange functional for a society at that moment? Exchange can establish controlled give-and-take relationships over long distances and minimise insecurities. The dominant feudal mediation, however, is still personal domination, in which tribute and feudal duties produce and govern a violent and forced “exchange”. Nevertheless, these forms are restricted to the local territory of the ruler. Thus, the western Frankish feudal rule cannot command the iron ore deposits in the Alps. Exchange becomes the functional solution to this contradiction in development, for it helps to obtain resources otherwise not available under the “usual form of feudal domination”. In the shift of function, the new quality of the capitalist society emerges: an exchange that is not yet equivalent but is regulated. It exists within the old system, the feudal society, in its rudimentary form. This changes with the shift of dominance.

Heide Gerstenberger does not limit the origins of capitalism to a rising merchant class or to the expansion of trade; she speaks of a change it the quality of exchange. Precapitalist trade and exchange was subject to many political privileges. Guilds could set the prices in many mediaeval towns; certain association of merchants had political privileges such as custom relief, tax exemptions or even the monopoly on the import of certain goods. The market was penetrated by political and personal privileges. This hindered especially one element of exchange: competition. The individual producers and traders did not compete as equals, and the disadvantaged fought against the unjust system. This political war between producers and especially traders went on during the entire early modern age (roughly from 1500 to 1800) until, slowly and gradually, the decisive process was realised: the unleashing of competition. The market actors began to relate to each other as mainly economic, not political, competitors. Their existence and success became less dependent on personal networks and political support and more on economic performance. This change within the sphere of mediation penetrated production and remodelled it according to its logic of competition and valorisation. Profits were not used as much for individual enrichment but as investment, a vital ingredient for existence. The mediation form of exchange gained increasing importance, the growing urban population was more and more dependent on the availability of food via competitive markets. Exchange became decisive when it became crucial in securing the existence of a major part of the population. In the process of the generalisation of exchange as the primary mediation form for livelihood, the local and dependent, variable elements of exchange began to lose importance: exchange became the general exchange of equivalents, money became a general equivalent and capitalism was born.

After the change in domination, equivalent exchange triggered an enormous increase in the division of tasks and, thus, in the depth of the re/productive mediation. Transpersonality is the strong side of exchange: it connects people who are only interested in maximising their self-interest. The exchange partners do not have to care for each other. While in the feudal society the depth of mediation is low, and transpersonal relations are not very complex or extended, equivalent exchange generates an intricate, highly structured transpersonal mediation—which today has reached a global level. The old system of feudalism has been transgressed by the new system of capitalism. The late-feudal and the emerging capitalist society became restructured step by step to align themselves with the requirements of the capitalist re/production.

3 Seed Form Theory: The Development of Commonism

With the intent of drawing analogies with the origins of capitalism, we now turn to the transition to the free society. Our utopia and thus our concept of the free society is commonism, as developed in Chap. 6. Other analyses could reach different understandings of the free society and, consequently, the five-step process presented below would take a different course. The object of society and re/production, the dimensions of development are the same as those in the transition to capitalism. However, the new function, the new mediation form is different: What exchange was to emerging capitalism, commoning is to emerging commonism (cf. Chap. 6, 3). However, we feel that, at this point, our research and theory are still immature.

One quality of commonist mediation, of commoning, is →voluntariness (p. 144). People only become active if the activity is important to them and they have the wish to act. Another quality is →collective disposal (p. 145): no abstract rules ensure divisions and claims as much as →property (p. 130) does, but collective possibilities of use are negotiated on the basis of →needs (p. 113). These commonist elements produce inclusive conditions. Other people cannot be instrumentalised or coerced into an activity; I have good reasons to include the needs of others. The same applies the other way around, in what refers to other people including me. Only through mutual inclusion can we achieve our goals. We will utilise these qualities to find and analyse the different ways in which the seed form appears under current conditions. As a reminder: on the basis of a human possibility—a free (from domination) society called commonism—we take a virtual look back and ask how this society could emerge.

3.1 Preconditions

The commonist society and the form of mediation that prevails in it are the result of human-societal preconditions. These preconditions differ in their characteristics: some are generally human and thus do not depend on today’s form of society. Others arose historically and are tied to certain societal developments. We would like to start with the generally human preconditions.

The human ability to enter into an inclusive, need-oriented mediation form requires perceiving the needs of other people and integrating them into our premises of action. This ability is called intersubjectivity. We have explained it in the theory of the individual (cf. p. 110). Intersubjectivity enables us to recognise other people as individuals in need with particular wishes and perceptions and to integrate them into our own wishes and perceptions on a par, instead of instrumentally subordinating them to our own needs.

As human beings we have a cognitive distance to the world. We are not a direct function of our perceptions and emotions, we are not victims of the world, but we can distance ourselves from the world and assume a reflective stance. Our consciousness enables us to design our societal conditions according to our needs. We can reflect on our own needs and on those of others and balance possibilities of satisfaction. As societal individuals we are not trapped in an individualised motivation. We do not only act when concrete and individually useful actions motivate us, but we also know a generalised motivation. Our motivation can include the needs of other people, even the needs of the “general others”, that is, people we do not know. I bake bread not just for me and my friends, I can be motivated to bake bread for people I do not know. We are not sure about other general-human preconditions commonist mediation might have. There could be others. When all is said and done, the essential precondition is that we are human beings, we are able to design our living environment.

Now, however, we would like to deal with the historical preconditions. We enter even more troubled waters: how can we specify what the changeable preconditions of a free society are? What is essential, what is dispensable? Is it a high technological development? Global networking? We quickly arrive at elements which regard capitalism as a vital requirement for the realisation of human capacity. Since we are uncertain, we would like to describe these historical preconditions in the subjunctive.

Maybe global networking is necessary for the development of an inclusive mediation form. Only then will there be no more outside. Only then can all needs be included, without the danger or the need to prevail at the expense of others. Or the opposite: maybe a free society can start in one region and expand from there. We believe this is not very likely, but a free society in certain isolation could be conceivable. Naturally, the division of tasks and the diversity of needs would be less differentiated, but this does not exclude the possibility of an inclusive mediation form. These considerations open up the question of whether a free society could prevail in some parts of the world, while others are still governed by domination-based mediation forms. It is obvious that mediation relations to these “external societies” could in parts corrupt and damage the inner logic of inclusion.

What about the depth of mediation? Capitalism has integrated people into a strong societal →network (p. 163). All people are producing for everybody, even if under the negative omen of structural exclusion. Much more than in earlier forms of society, in many places capitalism has dissolved interpersonal conditions of tradition, family and union, thus creating the basis for an individuality beyond groups. Are these societal interconnections not also a basis for the free mediation form to overcome the interpersonal level and become transpersonal-societal?

Maybe a certain level of technological development must be acquired for a society based on voluntariness to become a reality. This might give the chance to automatise many unloved, dangerous and tedious activities, which in capitalism cannot be made a source of profit and, therefore, must be covered by cheap workers susceptible to blackmail.

3.2 Contradiction in Development

Mere preconditions do not do the trick. One—or more—dynamic(s) are required to exert pressure on a development towards the new mediation form. A societal contradiction in development is a subjectively felt contradiction. It is a contradiction between the needs of the people and societal re/production, between subjective needs and the societal possibilities of their satisfaction. These subjective needs are proactively oriented: society is supposed to satisfy my needs in the future. And they can exceed my individual needs: the suffering of other people can also lead to a pressure for change. Furthermore, an escalating crisis—for example, the global use of resources (cf. Brand and Wissen 2017) or the inner-capitalist →realisation of the value crisis (p. 202)—can exert a pressure for change, for it can endanger not only the current supply but also provision. Thus, the emergence of the seed form of commonism, commoning, can be triggered by a number of dynamics: social isolation, destruction of the environment, reasonable wishes of re/production—prevented by the force of valorisation—exclusion from the market and so on. It is no coincidence that people discuss and feel the urge to engage in societal alternatives. Even those with a sufficiently secured existence—from their subjective point of view—become active for a different social organisation when there are tangible opportunities. Many dynamics seem to nurture hope of a transformation already in the making, and do not only begin when one is starving despite having money.

Valorisation Crisis

The capitalist form of production entails a self-contradiction. On the one hand, capitalism is based on the exploitation of human labour. On the other, all producers of commodities must strive to cheapen their commodities as much as possible, therefore, to minimise the human labour in them. Both processes are propelled by competition. The first strives for expansion and perpetual growth, the second for implosion and perpetual negative growth. The origin of the self-contradiction—and source of the dual crisis of realisation and metabolism—is the “the two-fold character of labour embodied in commodities” (Marx 1890, p. 56). Marx distinguishes concrete from abstract labour. Concrete labour produces use value, which satisfies needs. Abstract labour produces exchange value, which establishes equivalence in the act of exchange. Indeed, the proactive production* of life conditions aims exclusively at useful things, use value. However, in capitalism the only commodities produced are those which promise valorisation (German: ›Ver-Wert-ung‹—›make-value-real‹). Their value is established by abstract labour, which in competition is permanently reduced, however, due to the pressure to increase productivity. The same output of products demands less and less input of labour. To compensate, the amount of commodity output must be permanently increased. To achieve the same extent of value, an ever-increasing amount of commodities must be produced, requiring an ever-increased use of resources that causes increased externalities (e.g., CO₂ emissions). Increasing environmental consumption walks hand-in-hand with two conflicting tendencies: the expansion of value due to production expansion and the reduction of value due to increased productivity. The capitalist mode of production is systematically heading for a crisis of global metabolism—in times of upswing faster than in a crisis.

Despite the permanently increasing output of commodities—that is the crazy thing about this mode of production—imminent valorisation crises also escalate at the same time. The heart of the matter lies in the fact that the continuing decrease in value cannot be compensated (anymore) by the extension of production. Cyclical crises can only compensate to a small extent for this instability which permanently increases. This is done by transferring investments fromthe real economy to “investments” in a future, desired real economy. This has become possible by transferring real capital to financial markets, where it generates fictional capital many times its volume (cf. Lohoff and Trenkle 2012). The problems start when fictional capital is materialised and invested in the real economy. The current economy then becomes more and more dependent on the smooth functioning of the future economy. A house of cards is erected, which would do no harm if this were just a game of cards. But, in the meantime, real houses are built on that foundation. The downfall of the house of cards brings the real economy to a partial standstill. The real size of this crisis potential is an issue and so is the nature of the next crash.

3.3 Function Shift

In the shift of function, a new specific function emerges, the seed form, which will dominate the future development. In the shift of function, a new mediation form must emerge which will become the foundation of the new society. According to our postulated goal, this new mediation form, the commoning, represents—when societally generalised—the core of the inclusive society, commonism.

Inclusion takes place in many places in capitalism: in friendships, families, even businesses. People even act inclusively without directly gaining from it. We call this sort of behaviour →individualised inclusion (p. 204) if it is based on conscious ethical decisions. Individualised inclusion is an important step, but commonism takes a step further. Commonism creates a space and conditions suggesting inclusion, it makes them subjectively functional. In a commoning framework, I have good reasons to act inclusively. In commoning, inclusion is not an individual ethical decision, but rather one suggested by a logic of inclusion that is generated by the framework. I do not need to →altruistically (p. 111) go beyond myself and postpone my needs for others; it is useful to include the needs of others for the satisfaction of my own needs. So what are the required conditions for the mediation form of commonism to emerge?

Individualised Inclusion

Inclusive actions fall into three categories: individualised, interpersonal and transpersonal. In the case of individualised inclusion, people act individually on the basis of ethical convictions, such as justice, sustainability, solidarity and so on. In this case, the needs of other people are taken care of in private life. Examples are fair trade, bio consumption, donations and so on. As these actions are only individual and monetarily mediated, they do not create new and lasting social relationships and, therefore, cannot establish a new mediation form. Inclusion takes place through the intentional use of one’s money, for example, in consumption decisions and donations. Individualised inclusion is real inclusion, and it improves conditions but is necessarily limited: it always involves acting against one’s own needs. Based on morals and ethics, I consciously prioritise the needs of others over mine: instead of going on holidays with my money, I buy fair-trade goods to make people’s life in Cambodia a little bit better. If taking into consideration the needs of others involve disregarding one’s own needs, people have good reasons to not participate in this individualised inclusion. It is altruistic: I am doing something for others. Initiatives propagating individualised inclusion often appeal to morality: people should take care of others. We must help the poor and the sick. However, would it not be much better if egoism and altruism were combined? I do something for others and for me at the same time. The conditions in which caring for others is not an issue of morality would be both interpersonal and transpersonal. They would be conditions in which I would be better off if I cared for others, and others would be better off if they cared for me. This can only be achieved by changing the framework of actions, by going beyond individualised inclusive actions towards interpersonal inclusive spaces and again, finally, towards a transpersonal inclusive society.

We have set out a conceptual framework of commoning (cf. Chap. 6, 1.2) but we have not reached the end of it. We condensed our findings in the statement that commoning would be based on voluntariness and collective disposal. These two elements generate the conditions from which commonism can emerge. Our thesis here is: in the shift of function stage, only the seed form of commoning appears; therefore, collective disposal cannot develop as a transpersonal but only as an interpersonal quality. In capitalism it is the generalised exchange on the basis of property that is dominant. Collective disposal at the societal level is impossible and, at the interpersonal level, difficult. In the case of →commons (p. 143), many projects try to eliminate or cushion the exclusive effects of property. This is what the slogan “possession instead of property” (Habermann 2016, p. 10) stands for. In autonomous centres or political camps, the basis of decisions is not property, what is attempted is the mediation of needs. This is often done via tricky legal constructs, such as tenement syndicates, free software licences, creative commons licences, seed licences and so on. However, as we shall show, the domination of property fundamentally limits the scope of voluntariness. In capitalism many connections also depend on voluntariness—often beyond the sphere of the →economy (p. 14)—which requires the inclusion of the needs of the actors. The role of honorary officer is based on voluntariness: volunteer firefighters, refugees-welcome groups, clubs and so on. Political activity also presupposes voluntariness. It is not an individual’s job to include the needs of all actors, but the overall structure must secure this, otherwise it will disintegrate. Even in businesses, voluntariness is on the rise. New organisational structures and management approaches increasingly advocate voluntariness, autonomy and self-motivation. The workers are enabled to better adjust their tasks as they wish. This is still subject to compulsory valorisation, as voluntariness is just the basis for increased productivity but, nevertheless, it is a form of commoning within the economy (cf. Meretz 2016).

3.3.1 Interpersonal Inclusion

What limitations is commoning as a seed form subject to? It can only seize the interpersonal-collective level but not the transpersonal-societal level. One reason for this is the lack of collective disposal beyond the interpersonal frame, as mentioned before. It seems obvious that these two elements are interconnected. Our thesis is: if commons—at the level of the seed form—try to overcome exchange and, thus, the logic of property in capitalism to some extent, they must interpersonalise transpersonal relations. And that is a fundamental problem.

We can illustrate that with examples of community-supported agriculture projects. For example, an average agricultural farmyard in capitalism produces vegetables as commodities for a supermarket, and the consumers buy the commodities from there. For the consumer or the producer, it is irrelevant who actually produces or consumes. The exchange of money for a commodity connects people transpersonally. Community-supported agriculture tries to establish a different mediation between consumers and producers: the consumers establish a fixed group financing the production of the farmyard, and they receive the produced vegetables in return. They do not pay a price per potato but cover the costs of the farm, labour, seeds, electricity and so on. There might be a solidary redistribution by way of rounds of contribution, enabling people to contribute according to their financial possibilities and allowing people who are better off to support others. A partial separation of give-and-take is practiced, and new logics emerge: the consumers have a word in the production, the producers are exempt from market competition and can produce more ecologically and considering their own needs. The project still needs money, but consumers and producers are joined in a commoning process: they show special consideration for the needs of others. Inclusion is important. This commoning only works because people engage in direct interpersonal relationships: the producers produce for concrete consumers and the consumers receive their vegetables from a concrete farmyard. In community-supported agriculture projects, the transpersonal relationship of the capitalist farmyard with its consumers is rendered interpersonal.

This example is intended to illustrate a general logic. At the level of seed form, voluntariness, inclusion and collective disposal are somehow accessible in interpersonal connections. However, at the transpersonal level there cannot be collective disposal. Hardly any project in capitalism can afford to give away products or services free of charge, to give others the power of a free disposal, whether individually or collectively. The reason is that the means for the respective production—whether they are means of consumption for the producers or means of re/production—usually are property and, therefore, stem from exchanges or the state. Nevertheless, some projects try to rule out the property of the produced means on the output side. In that way, the clear connection between give and take is cancelled; such is the case of cf. “Küchen-für-alle” (kitchen-for-all), volunteer fire departments or community-supported agriculture.³ But due to the fact that property is dominant in society and, therefore, so is the need for cash, the separation can only be partially successful and must be cushioned in interpersonal connections. Only in interpersonal connections can the logic of exclusion of property and exchange be consciously overcome by cooperating people. However, this overcoming necessarily remains limited. Thus, at the level of the function shift, inclusive conditions are created mainly by voluntariness and a limited disposal of some resources. Generally speaking, if projects build interpersonal conditions partially representing a logic of inclusion, inclusive actions lose their mere ethical character. They are structurally encouraged and foster each other. Individually, there are good reasons to adopt the encouraged inclusive activity, for it means that one will be included in return. Projects based on voluntariness and partial collective disposal do just this: they generate these conditions of collective inclusion. This is the seed form of commonism: inclusive conditions at the interpersonal level. It will take a shift of dominance—in our view incurring the true collective disposal of all aspects of producing* the means of consumption—for the (interpersonal) seed form to transform into a (transpersonal) elementary form, making the inclusive conditions societal and general and, thus, dominant. We will now present some examples of the commonist seed form.

3.3.2 Traditional Commons

Traditional commons hold their ground above all in connection with the preservation of natural resources, and they are often a direct source of livelihood through the selling of natural products (fishery, forest use, grazing, water regulation etc.). Today they are surviving islands in the ocean of capitalist enclosure and the valorisation of capital, while in earlier times they formed an important part of societal re/production. Political scientist Elinor Ostrom (awarded the Nobel Prize in Economics in 2009) analysed these surviving commons and carved out eight design principles, which she summarised in her Nobel Lecture (Ostrom 2009, p. 422):

1A. User Boundaries: Clear and locally understood boundaries between legitimate users and nonusers are present.

1B. Resource Boundaries: Clear boundaries that separate a specific common-pool resource from a larger social-ecological system are present.

2A. Congruence with Local Conditions: Appropriation and provision rules are congruent with local social and environmental conditions.

2B. Appropriation and Provision: Appropriation rules are congruent with provision rules; the distribution of costs is proportional to the distribution of benefits.

3. Collective-Choice Arrangements: Most individuals affected by a resource regime are authorized to participate in making and modifying its rules.

4A. Monitoring Users: Individuals who are accountable to or are the users monitor the appropriation and provision levels of the users.

4B. Monitoring the Resource: Individuals who are accountable to or are the users monitor the condition of the resource.

5. Graduated Sanctions: Sanctions for rule violations start very low but become stronger if a user repeatedly violates a rule.

6. Conflict-Resolution Mechanisms: Rapid, low-cost, local arenas exist for resolving conflicts among users or with officials.

7. Minimal Recognition of Rights: The rights of local users to make their own rules are recognized by the government.

8. Nested Enterprises: When a common-pool resource is closely connected to a larger social-ecological system, governance activities are organized in multiple nested layers.

Traditional commons could survive when they drew clear lines and developed a system of domination, sanction and →conflict (p. 146) solution for the internal organisation. Or, in Ostrom’s words: “In all self-organized systems, we found that users had created boundary rules for determining who could use the resource, choice rules related to the allocation of the flow of resource units, and active forms of monitoring and local sanctioning of rule breakers” (ibid., p. 419). Defence structures against the hostile surroundings and their intruding logic were necessary, as many of the internally linked commons appeared externally as competitors—for example, when produce from the use of the commons was sold on the market. On the output side property was not overcome, while on the input side natural resources like forests, moors, pastures, lakes and so on were not used as individual property but were preserved according to the needs of the parties involved. The preservation and protection of the commons was partly carried out on the basis of voluntariness. The limited collective disposal of resources on the input side and the fact that voluntariness was only partially present created limited inclusive conditions.

3.3.3 Projects of Collectives

Projects of collectives cover the organisation of a wide range of different aspects of life with a special focus on interpersonal relationships. This includes communities, collective parenting, dwelling projects, autonomous centres, queer-feminist connections and other associations with an emancipatory claim. These groups considerably differ in their thematic focus: ecology, dwelling, producing, culture, politics, sexuality and so on are keywords. However, they have a lot in common: dealing intensively with social processes in the group, criticising and reflecting on →power (p. 4) and domination, creating solidary possibilities of conflict resolution and of dealing with traditional forms of relationships. On the basis of voluntariness, they create a self-organisation exceeding structural isolation in capitalist society and developing new forms of cooperation. Here, inclusive conditions originate from voluntariness and are developed via reflexion on domination and the criticism of power. Most of these projects focus on their inner social structure. They produce new symbolic and social means: in particular, new forms of dwelling, love, conflict resolution, perception, thinking and critique. In addition, some projects of collectives produce or offer means that cannot be easily replicated: for-free shops, community-supported agriculture, Küfa (“Küche für alle”—kitchen for all), cultural events and so on.

3.3.4 Myriads of Further Seed Form Instances

There are a vast number of further projects based on voluntariness (and partly on collective disposal). As mentioned above, businesses also try to incorporate voluntariness into their work organisation. More extensive projects of solidarity-based economy stress the importance of voluntariness by demanding it, and the contributors collectively determine the goals of their re/production. However, this form of self-organisation is limited by the continuing ownership of the products.

3.3.5 Knowledge Communism

The concept of “knowledge communism” goes back to Robert K. Merton (1942). Scientific knowledge is supposed to be the outcome of a cooperative research process, whose results are published, examined, copied, criticised and refined. So this knowledge is public. In the middle of the 1980s, Richard M. Stallman extended this idea to include software representing a special form of knowledge.

Fighting the growing containment of software (transition from free software to property by requiring a charge for its use) he developed the concepts of Free Software and Copyleft licence (GNU General Public Licence). Free software means the software is free for use; it can be changed and passed on. Copyleft requires that follow-on software also fall under the copyleft licence. The “virus of freedom” is passed on.

The new millennium saw these beginnings turn into a broad movement of free and open-source software (FOSS). The basic idea of cooperative sharing and improving available knowledge quickly spread to other areas: open design (of clothes, houses, cars etc.), open courseware (learning materials), free encyclopaedia Wikipedia, free cultural goods (books, films etc.) and many more. The Oekonux project (“Oekonomie und Linux”—“Economy and Linux”, cf. Merten 2001) predicted this development and, furthermore, postulated the emergence of a new production form with the potential of replacing capitalism. We build on these ideas.

The essential quality of knowledge communism attempts is their achievement of the societal level. Scientific findings influence transpersonal mediation. However, they must be subject to free disposal and, therefore, de facto nobody’s property (albeit not de jure). This way, interested parties all over the world can examine the results and develop them further, and the human potential of cumulative contributions to a global production* of life conditions can unfold in the area of science. Knowledge only has to be acquired once to be potentially available to everybody. In this case, de facto unlimited collective disposal and voluntariness are already possible and create a transpersonal space of inclusion, albeit limited to only one sector.⁴

3.3.6 Leaving the Niche

The commonist seed form can be found in many contexts and in many places. But how can it go beyond its niche existence? How can it achieve societal generalisation? In the function shift, the first step of qualitative change, the new quality of commoning develops on the basis of voluntariness and partial collective disposal, producing inclusive conditions applicable at the interpersonal level. This new mediation form differs in quality from the old function, the exchange based on property, which is still dominant. At the same time, commoning is active in the old system environment, thus actively contributing to capitalist valorisation (dual functionality, cf. Chap. 7, 1. “shift of function”).

3.4 Scenarios of Shift of Dominance

With the shift of dominance we arrive at the second qualitative change. Now the new quality of commoning is no longer a subordinated function within the old system but becomes the dominant function in the new system. Commoning not only takes place in less important areas and niches, but a societal point of no return is reached making commoning the dominant societal mediation form. Two questions arise: how can this point of no return be conceptualised? Which dynamics will lead to this point of no return? Let us begin with the first question.

Commoning as a seed form—apart from knowledge communism—so far appears at the interpersonal level. This sort of commoning emerges on the basis of voluntariness and partial disposal. This partial disposal can only be gained by steering hitherto commodity-like transpersonal relationships of producers/maintainers and users towards the interpersonal level through commoning. Commoning, to that extent, transforms from seed form to elementary form as the repeal of exclusive property, individually agreed on, becomes the general societal structure; or, in other words, as property is overcome and collective disposal becomes generally implemented. Thus, instruments of domination acting in interpersonal and transpersonal relationships disappear—both on the input and on the output side. Means of re/production and life are not necessarily bought or sold anymore but are produced* on the basis of needs—prioritised, if necessary. At the same time, the produced* means are at everyone’s free disposal. This overcomes the hitherto exclusively interpersonal form of commoning. The commonist mediation form must now design transpersonal relationships. Polycentric structures emerge—for example, infrastructure commons, conflict management commons and others (unpredictable at the moment)—that are able to carry and shape this transpersonal net (cf. Chap. 6, 3.4).

While individualised inclusion on the basis of ethics and morality is always possible, the shift of function leads to a collective inclusion on the basis of interpersonal commoning. With the shift of dominance, this interpersonal commoning becomes generalised and turns into transpersonal commoning, the inclusive society. Not only the needs of concrete others, that is, my direct cooperation partners, are included, but also the needs of general others are consciously and directly included—or indirectly, when producing and applying means stemming from voluntary activity. How will that come about? Once again we find ourselves in troubled waters. We wish to present various scenarios and invite you to ponder on the correct course.

3.4.1 Scenario 1: More Efficient than Capitalism

Dual functionality means that the seed form already emerges in the old system; although it is functionally useable, its inner logic is at the same time incompatible with the existing system. This is how the capitalist seed form actually expanded within the framework of feudalism: it was useful, mainly to the interests of the ruling aristocracies. It can easily be assumed that the same applies at present to the commons. Could they not be functional for capitalism? Being functional for capitalism means they improve valorisation. And, indeed, this is the case with Wikipedia and free software but also with commons-oriented work organisation: they allow for a reduction of costs and/or a better realisation. However, this is impossible for most of the commons engaged in material production, given that their logic is the exact opposite of cost-efficiency in the struggle for the valorisation of value.

In the mainstream production of goods, efficiency and cost-efficiency are mostly achieved through externalisation and exclusion, that is, through satisfying the needs of some people in one place by violating the needs of other (generations of) people in another place. In fact, this form of production inevitably combines local or partial efficiency with system-wide inefficiency—as measured against the satisfaction of the needs of humanity. On the contrary, the commonist logic of inclusion achieves a significantly higher degree of efficiency in the satisfaction of needs, even if it might cause “inefficiency” regarding the valorisation of value, given that externalisation and exclusion at the expense of others are not possible. As a consequence, it is very unlikely that it will expand under capitalist competition and its drive for the realisation of value.

So, if the commons cannot successfully compete in the field of commodities, two conceivable possibilities remain: either the competitive disadvantage in the field of commodities will be compensated or the field will be left. In the case of the compensation of competitive disadvantages, additional (virtual) characteristics are added to the commodity; these are externalised in mainstream commodity production, but they are enjoyed by certain groups of buyers. In solidarity-based economy, for example, the resulting earnings are evenly distributed among the producers. Fair trade generates a higher yield for the producers compared to conventional production. The approach of the economy for the common good (“Gemeinwohlökonomie” in German, Felber 2018) makes factors like ecology, societal issues and so on, profitable through a calculated assignment of attributes (in the form of a “common good balance”).⁵ However, these approaches do not usually displace mainstream commodity production but complement it. They fill unoccupied areas or even create new markets. As they are completely integrated into the logic of the commodity form, they are just as exposed to a crisis or breakdown of the economy and cannot represent alternatives.

An example of a game changer is online encyclopaedia Wikipedia. Commercial encyclopaedias, which aimed at excluding others from the use of their products via copyright, were not outcompeted in the field of the commodity form but rather out-cooperated in the field of cooperation through voluntary contributions. This became possible by the fact that the product, the generated knowledge, in the digital form can be arbitrarily copied at little expense (cf. “communism of knowledge”, p. 209).

3.4.2 Scenario 2: Expansion

Another, possibly more obvious, idea is that of gradual extension. Numerous commons projects from all sorts of areas—culture, agriculture, internet, energy and so on—are expected to network and grow. This networking already develops slowly expanding mediation networks. Societal re/production increasingly becomes commonist. This leads to the point where commonist re/production represents a serious alternative to the capitalist form of livelihood and a shift of dominance occurs. We have also given this idea of change in domination some consideration, but we recently came to the conclusion of rejecting it. On the one hand, expansion is limited by the existing property structures—and it will be difficult to buy most capitalist property. On the other hand, the mediation between particular projects is problematic. We fear that such a growing mediation necessitates either a planned form or that of exchange. We would like to take a closer look at this issue.

There are two possibilities of organisation when several commons join forces, such as several CSAs (“community-supported agriculture”) and a wind power commons. They either form a consortium with a joint budget and common membership, sharing all products and services, or form a rather loose network, where each commons keeps its organisational independence as far as budget and membership are concerned; defined agreements allow for the members’ mutual use of the products. Certainly, mixed forms are possible, but we would like to focus on the end of the spectrum.

3.4.3 Consortium

In the case of a consortium there is an interface mediating exchange, the relations of exchange with capitalism to which the projects must submit monetarily. Within the consortium, individual projects can establish forms of reciprocity other than exchange. Electricity does not have to be “paid for” by an equivalent of vegetables and vice versa. The members of the consortium contribute to the combined budget in rounds of solidarity-based contribution. Thus, give-and-take is partially decoupled from the projects involved, as well as from the members. As the projects still entertain external monetary relations, on the one hand, and the “hired contributors” must be paid to find sufficient time for their activity, on the other, the decoupling between the projects can only be partial. The voluntary contributors must secure their monetary livelihood, therefore not all necessary activity in the consortium can be exercised voluntarily and reliably. External monetary pressure for survival competes with voluntariness, and, at the end of the day, it is the former that has the final say.⁶ Given the capitalist conditions, the solution can only be to pay people for the reliable fulfilment of an activity that is necessary for the project. But how to ensure the (often only precariously) paid activity is reliably delivered? Solutions tend towards either the “market economy” or the “planned economy”: the reliable delivery of the work is either ensured by resorting to market competition—threat of dismissal and of hiring a reliable worker—or social, moral or political pressure is applied in order to “voluntarily” achieve sufficient dedication and reliability. Both strategies undermine the targeted new quality: voluntariness and inclusion.⁷ The growing size of the consortium requires an even greater reliability of the scheduled activity to keep the task sharing running. This is the precise problem encountered by planned societies that replaced the market-based economic threat of dismissal with a symbolic pay and political-moral pressure.

Apart from voluntariness, collective disposal also reaches its limits. When transpersonality increases, so does anonymity. The more this happens, the more contributors and users—as consumers living in a capitalist setting—might be induced to acquire a bigger share of the produced wealth. In smaller, interpersonal projects this is contained by the individual assessment of fairness and social control. However, with an increase in the size of the consortium, individual ethic and social pressure might decrease. This could lead to a behaviour that is functional in the context of the logic of exclusion, the minimising of input and maximising of output at the expense of others, severely disrupting the space of inclusion. One way of balancing this could be to increase control and the rule of law; this, however, would push the consortium further towards a planned economy.

Apart from these perilous inner dynamics, the external dynamic of the capitalist surroundings is also in play. This decoupling of give and take, generally speaking, reduces (or aspires to do so) the pressure of competition and productivity. This also entails (or aspires to do so) the tendency to internalise so far externalised factors such as environmental protection, climate protection, preservation of soil fertility and so on. However, this usually leads to the consortium’s products becoming more expensive than conventional capitalist production, if its productivity is trailing normal market economy businesses; moreover, new costs incur due to re-internalisation. This problem of productivity was also present in the planned economies of real socialism. Without the pressure of competition, the rise in productivity deaccelerated, leading to political campaigns in an attempt to compensate for it. A growing consortium of commons also becomes more and more expensive and, thus, unattractive for old and new members. This puts limits on a “planned economic” solution.

3.4.4 Network

The second possibility is a loose network. In this case the individual commons remain unchanged, keeping their own budgets and entering into agreed relations. These relations would only make sense if not organised on a commodity-based exchange but involving a decoupling of give-and-take. For example, this is practiced in the Intercom-Network of municipalities in the Kassel area (Wenk 2014). Their concept of “free flow” “is mainly based on the principle of surplus” (ibid.). Means are not exchanged but given according to fairness standards. However, one thing is clear: fairness must not overextend the individual commons. This condition is met only when passing on the surplus; however, it reaches its limit with the exhaustion of the surplus. The general rule is that fairness must not disconnect product costs too much from market prices.

Deviations from exchange and the market are possible, especially for not-required surplus means, but a market orientation remains overall necessary. Therefore, property is hardly overcome and collective disposal basically remains within the particular commons; this can hardly include the needs of others, for they must ensure their further existence. Moreover, fairness cannot be generalised but rests on perceived justice and interpersonal relationships. Fairness is an interpersonal feeling and requires a concrete other. It is precisely this interpersonal bond that the transpersonal exchange of equivalents overcomes through its abstract justice.

The idea of “free flow” is interesting as far as the radical decoupling of give-and-take is concerned. Because it is grounded on the limited interpersonal basis of fairness and surplus, this approach cannot be generalised. Is there a way out? Could “fair” exchange relationships be internally established instead of organising a completely free flow for non-surplus goods?

Such an approach of mutual production for each other instead of for the market would involve a definition of fairness. Only an “almost equal” exchange would be accepted as “fair”, given that production involves certain inputs. These must also be considered, regardless of a non-market-oriented “fair internal exchange”, in order not to overstrain the particular partners. In the end, such a fairness would result in a market price plus X, while X stands for the higher costs deriving from lower productivity and higher internalisation (protection of the environment, work conditions etc.). If these relatively higher inputs were accepted in the “fair internal exchange” (“expensive electricity for expensive vegetables”) these deviations from the market would not matter in the internal sphere; however, they would be felt even more in the monetary external relations with the capitalist environment, where merciless market prices prevail. In the external relations, “fair” products would be more expensive than “conventional” ones and, thus, less competitive.⁸ However, acquiring the necessary financial resources (“foreign currencies”) for the consortium demands external orientation, thus making these external standards the yardstick for the “fair” internal conditions. Here too we find a situation comparable with real socialism: dependency on foreign currency causes the import of capitalist criteria into the network. Although other modifications are still possible, the bottom line is that the idea is overall market-oriented. This usually indirect market orientation limits the extension of the network.

In our view, both approaches—consortium and network—remain limited. This cannot be surprising, for the transpersonal space of mediation is dominated by the exchange of equivalents. In other words: the transpersonal space is occupied. The transpersonal terrain of mediations must be relieved of equivalent exchange step by step. That is the essence of the idea of expansion. We might be wrong, but we believe that one cannot beat capitalism at its own game, the logic of valorisation, by outcompeting it. So, it should not be surprising that the idea of crisis and the accompanying breakdown of mediation by exchange are seen as likely candidates for initiating transformation.

3.4.5 Scenario 3: Crisis

A crisis means the current form of society cannot secure its future functioning anymore. Contradictions cannot be solved within the framework of the old societal structures but demand that conditions be overcome. The crisis of a form of society is also always a subjectively felt crisis: society cannot secure the livelihood of an important part of the population. But at what point is my livelihood endangered? When I am hungry? When anxiety regarding the future of the environment breaks my heart? When I feel struck by misfortune? Or is it when my internet access is not working? What is an important part of the population? 20%, 40% or 60%? This goes to show that a societal crisis invariably entails a subjective element. People are proactively oriented. The point at which they experience life as unbearable varies and, above all, depends on possible societal alternatives and on the path leading to it; this is what gives transformation and utopia theories their prominent place. Currently, there are two major and intertwined elements of crisis: the capitalist crisis of valorisation and the global crisis of metabolism.

Unfortunately, the capitalist crisis of realisation is difficult to understand without basic prior Marxist knowledge. We have tried to explain that in the box →realisation of value crisis (p. 202). Apart from that, we can only bring the manifold and well-known crisis phenomena to attention: increased shifting of realisation of profits to the financial sphere, debt crisis, increasing paralysis of central banks and governments and so on. The awareness of the crisis of global metabolism (resource depletion, climate change etc.) can also be taken for granted. Now the interesting question is what potential these crises have for a shift of domination.

A crisis or growing crisis phenomena build up considerable pressure to pursue an alternative path to the proactive production* of life conditions. The bigger the crash, the greater the pressure. This pressure always involves a subjective part. The old does not only reach an objective barrier, but this barrier is also subjectively unacceptable. The subjective experience of an alternative can strengthen such a rejection. Acute crisis situations are often chaotic. People feel anxious and believe more and more that things cannot go on like that. They demand safety. Under conditions governed by a logic of exclusion, safety is achieved through domination and exclusion. These are familiar action patterns. Therefore, in a crisis many people will rely on hierarchic-authoritarian solutions. Whether alternatives governed by a logic of inclusion can prevail against such a presumable tendency depends on the breadth of experiences with interpersonal spaces of inclusion. If a lot of people know the strength and safety that a space can provide, the latter becomes increasingly attractive. However, in such a crisis situation commoning must be able to quickly organise transpersonal mediation, where experiences are rare. At the same time, we expect that in radical situations of upheaval property could become fragile, allowing for an easier attainment of the collective disposal of property. Under these circumstances, inclusive conditions via voluntariness and collective disposal seem easier to accomplish. However, there are at the same time many dangers. For us it is an open question: what conditions could allow for inclusive forms of cooperation to become dominant?

3.4.6 Scenario 4: The Partner State as a Suicide State

We do not exclude the possibility of the state playing a role in the change of domination. In Chap. 2, 2.2 we tried to explain in detail that the state cannot build a free society. We also consider it impossible for an inclusive society to be built quickly and spontaneously from below after a state-oriented break. However, it seems quite conceivable that commonist forms—supported by the state—could expand within capitalism and partly guarantee the livelihood of many people. A state-oriented break could then end the old system logic, allowing for the commonist societal form to extend. A problem here is the dissolution of the state itself. Our other considerations regarding the shift of domination involved the state becoming “superfluous”. The state is not used, and commonist mediation increasingly renders it superfluous, although a real confrontation—for example, in the form of an active revolution (cf. p. 64)—remains an option. However, in the scenario discussed here the state is not the opponent to be abolished, but a stirrup holder, an accomplice to emancipation. Due to the state-oriented focus of transformation research, the respective suitable mental images enjoy great popularity: the state could socialise property, promote and protect new practices, democratically dissolve into society and so on.

Lenin asked the obvious question (cf. p. 55): why should the state wither away? Why should the state only remain as a stirrup holder and not be a player anymore? Why should a state which breaks the domination of capitalism dissolve afterwards? How does this transforming state become a suicide state? From the individual perspective of the people involved in state power, a different form of livelihood must seem more promising. However, the end of an institution of domination leaves a power vacuum, inviting well-organised groups to fill it for the purpose of exploiting power for their particular interests. This might rather suggest a gradual loss of significance of the state institutions of domination. Having said this, we consider it an open question whether this is possible at all. We must admit that there are many people more knowledgeable in the field of state and politics. So we are happy to pass the question on to them: What could be the state’s contribution to a shift of dominance establishing a free society?

3.4.7 Scenario 5: Commons and Social Struggles

Commoners are usually inherently critical about struggles, fighting and politics. They stick to the Zapatista slogan: “It is not necessary to conquer the world. It is sufficient to build it new.” You may often hear commoners expressing sentiments like “I’m done with fighting and with being against something, I want to experience and live utopia”. This antipathy towards struggles is accompanied by a certain scenario of generalisation: The peaceful, slow expansion of commoning and commons, one by one. First, creating Community-Supported Agriculture, then building communal energy production, functioning Fab Labs and, slowly, Community-Supported Everything. More and more people and enterprises turn to commoning and expand the commons sphere, because it feels good, it satisfies unsatisfied needs, and it is simply the right thing to do. We think that this path does not stand a chance because of the prevailing capitalist way of producing* our living conditions—the markets and the state still satisfy many needs. Secondly, because of the existing property structures. Commons do not have the resources, land, metals, housing and so on to expand widely. Thirdly, because of the aforementioned criticism of the commons network and consortium.

Commoners are critical of struggles because of the very practice of commons. Commoning thrives on a culture of inclusion, cooperation and respect and, therefore, is culturally averse to discourses and practices of fighting, struggle and exclusion. Some commons challenge existing property structures by occupying, for example, houses or forests, but most accept them and buy the property. But the commons cannot even buy a significant part of capitalist property, mainly because they do not focus on making money and on valorisation but on satisfying needs.

Therefore, some commoners and activists point out the importance of coupling political struggles with commonist seed forms. Supported by political struggles, commoning could thrive within the very movement and be enhanced by it. On the other side, political struggles can incorporate constructive and constitutional elements of commoning. They do not only fight against something or for state reforms, but they fight for something, and they already experience, develop and refine an inclusion logic of re/production. This coupling of struggles and commoning is not that far-fetched but is already happening. Every movement has structures of collective organisation. But, whereas traditional labour movement organisations were dominated by hierarchy, work, and obedience, new social movement organisations already display a commonist logic of voluntariness and collective disposal. They try to minimise hierarchy and structural domination within the movements, enabling more “democratic” structures. To illustrate, the camps of the climate movement are built on hundreds of activists cooking, organising, building and cleaning voluntarily. This constructive element should be strengthened and acknowledged for what it is: the very element that may evolve into a free society. Constructive movements would not think of themselves primarily as political collectives trying to achieve state reform but as constructive collectives fighting and struggling, building and fostering within their own structures of living the seed forms of a free society.

This concept is new to us, and it is not sufficiently developed here, but we are already working with activists and commoners on a new book where we will look deeper into this connection between struggles and construction.

3.5 Restructuring

When the dominance of inclusive conditions has been established, a new relation between the elementary and the system form has also come about. A new frame of action emerges, involving all people in all spheres of life. It is encouraged everywhere to include the needs of concrete others as well as general others. This activity no longer has to be pushed through and consciously maintained against a different societal logic, it is rather in line with it. Inclusive activity is positively accepted and socially rewarded. The new elementary form of action spreads even to areas that have been, so far, untouched by societal transformation—whether due to their insignificant role in the old logic or their belonging to the “split-off” activities that are now being appreciated because of their importance for everyone’s existence. Transformation according to the new infuses machines and child support, sex practices and industrial activities, patient care and infrastructure, houses, and music.

4 Practice

As beautiful as theory may be in its singularity, its function is and remains profane: to improve our practice. To the extent that our transvolution theory is unfinished in substance, our reasoning about practice is fundamentally limited. However, some ideas can be gathered.

Emancipatory practices face the fundamental problem of moving in a society they actually want to overcome. But as long as this cannot be achieved, they remain a part of the society they reject, nevertheless reproducing and supporting it. We can begin by evaluating the potential of practices for improving people’s lives under present conditions. On the other hand, we can rate their potential for designing new societal conditions. Thus, generally speaking, even while reproducing the old society, emancipatory practices would overcome it at the same time. The crucial element here is reference to utopia.

4.1 Reference to Utopia

Many of today’s practice forms have a loose or non-existent utopian reference. Although they intend to improve things, they lack a clear utopia and, thus, a clear transformation theory. This is particularly true for practices that are mainly directed at the immediate improvement of life under present conditions. There is nothing wrong with these reformist practices. They are probably praiseworthy, as they draw the line at a “revolutionary wait-and-see-attitude”. This consists of waiting, accepting the existing situation, possibly even hoping for additional suffering as it might create a “revolutionary situation”. However, we are convinced that reformist practices could also improve their effective force if they were to develop an explicit reference to utopia and transvolution.

Many further practice forms are characterised by a loose reference to utopia and transvolution. Although they pronounce their practice as aimed at overcoming capitalism, they practically lack theoretical basis. These ideas often remain stuck in theoretical considerations of power: somehow it is all about becoming more, become stronger so that someday in the foggy future an overcoming of capitalism might come about. This is the place where traditional revolutionary theories often hibernate: once we have become strong enough we can usurp state power, use it, and abolish it. (cf. Chap. 2, 4.1). We would very much like the practitioners explicitly going to the bottom of their reference to utopia. Transvolution is not the result of abstract wishful thinking. Substantiating transvolution to a free society requires a sound understanding. As developed in our considerations regarding the frame of our transvolution theory (cf. Chap. 3), practice must anticipate a qualitatively new, unevolved form of re/production.

Our seed form theory conceptualises the mediation form as the dominant element of the form of a society. It comprises the relations established between people and is at the heart of our societal form. Consequently, this qualitatively new form of mediation—according to Adamczak, this new “form of relationship” (cf. 2017)—must be anticipated in practice. This very focus, which in the commons discourse places the emphasis on commoning, is social practice. Commonist mediation should be governed by the logic of inclusion, but this cannot yet reach all of society, only interpersonal spaces. Here, inclusive conditions can be established.

4.2 Interpersonal Inclusive Conditions

A free society can only be free if the satisfaction of my needs does not occur at the expense of the satisfaction of the needs of others but, rather, relates to it in a positive way. Inclusive conditions are the action conditions that generate this logic of inclusion. Therefore, the central question regarding emancipatory practice is: how can we create conditions in our movements, our projects, our spaces, which combine our needs in a positive way? Which conditions suggest the inclusion of other people and their needs? And how do our needs come into their own? All of this requires a collective process of exploration of our needs and taking our feelings seriously. On the basis of our utopia, we can name some criteria regarding practice which create inclusive conditions. We should be aware of the fact that this practice will always be broken and contradictory, for it can only unfold when inclusive conditions have reached the level of societal generality.

4.3 Criteria

4.3.1 Voluntariness

If people only participate in social spaces based on their free will, these spaces must be designed in such a way that the needs of the people involved are included as much as possible. This is put into practice to some extent in self-organising emancipatory projects that set their own aims. Self-organisation allows people to command their own action conditions. This disposal of conditions gives us the option to design the aims of our activity, thus acting in a motivated and voluntary manner. However, this disposal of conditions quickly reaches its limits. For instance, often our time is not at our disposal, given that we must earn money or the project needs money which has to be acquired outside of self-determined activity. Indeed, this hampers motivation and voluntariness, but it does not necessarily destroy it. For we can position ourselves towards the conditions individually and collectively, even though they still constitute the societal frame. However, the infringement remains, for we are restricted to an interpersonal disposal of conditions. For example, this is often recognisable when talking about political work. This way of speaking, on the one hand, upgrades political activity and results in it being taken seriously; on the other hand, “work” is tainted by heteronomy. It must be done even if motivation is almost non-existent. As we cannot completely dispose of the conditions of our political activity, it contains elements of self-constraint. In order to be actually active in a motivated, thus self-determined, manner, we have to try disposing of our action conditions as comprehensively as possible. Therefore, in our projects we must keep an open eye regarding voluntariness: how, why, and where do we damage and limit it? Which conditions can promote voluntariness?

4.3.2 Disposal

Inclusive conditions are also re/produced by mediating the material, symbolic, and social means of action in a way that is as cooperative and need-oriented as possible. This inclusion is necessarily hampered if disposal is limited due to gender, race, hierarchy and so on. While collective disposal seems obvious with material-symbolic means, this does not seem quite as obvious with social means. Thus, for example, collective disposal of discussions and organisational processes requires that individual needs and feelings are taken seriously and are supported in their wish to participate, in order to realise collectivity and inclusion in the process of mediation. Modern emancipatory movements have gathered a lot of new insights regarding this issue, especially in openly dealing with forms of domination within the movement. While we can design numerous things at the interpersonal level in a need-oriented manner, it is true that the transpersonal exclusion structures of patriarchy, racism, homophobia and so on repeatedly transform and damage our self-organised attempts at producing different life conditions. But as long as mediation remains hierarchic, it is obvious and simple to exclude other people and their needs time and again. Thus, our practices will continually cause frustrations.

By keeping in mind the limits of dealing with societal mechanisms of domination interpersonally, the resulting frustration can guide our awareness. It can open up new possibilities of learning, point towards limitations in our projects, and trigger insights regarding inclusive forms of disposal.

4.3.3 Limits and Exclusions

In an exclusion society, inclusive conditions can only be designed in limited areas, separated from a contrasting outside. Inclusive practices can only unfold their logic when they are open to all people, which, however, is impossible in capitalism. The exclusion logic, time and again, enters into open projects and disintegrates them. Limits are necessary, but they are not an integral part of commons. So, for example, community-based agriculture cannot make its products openly available, or a (queer-)feminist protected area requires a certain sensitivity and, therefore, cannot be open to everybody. Here limits and exclusions are needed to protect the inclusive inner space of projects. But these limits are designable. So, a conscious handling of the necessary access to money can be found in order to not reproduce the logic of exchange in the inner space of projects.

These limits aim at extension: people can only feel safe in protected areas like community-based agriculture or (queer-)feminist projects when the shelter of the inclusion logic is extended to other areas. This is so because the protected area cannot be separated from society, its logics can be cushioned in it but not completely overcome. Generally speaking, inclusive practices aim at generalising inclusive conditions, for only then their logic can unfold entirely and thus remain stable.⁹ So we should always ask ourselves: where do we need limits? Where do these limits damage inner inclusive dynamics by excluding people’s needs, even if they are not necessarily exclusive? For example, in the beginning men regarded the inclusion of women and their needs as strenuous and unimportant; however, their inclusion considerably sped up inclusive dynamics within the spaces by unveiling the existence of machismo, biased emphasis on rationality, rigour and so on. Also, the inclusion of people with no academic background will reduce mechanisms of exclusion based on formal education. Therefore, the point is: where and how can we overcome and extend limits?

4.4 More Thoughts

4.4.1 Norms and Learning Spaces

There is an interesting dynamic in inclusive areas, where the result is contrary to the goal: the inclusion of the needs of others is experienced as compulsion. Thus, people who have become male consider it to be an impertinent demand to reflect on their privileges and to include the needs of people who have become female. Antisexist behaviour is experienced as an imposed norm and rejected. This perception is supported by the one-sidedness of the concept of privilege, stressing exclusion: the abandoning of privileges is perceived as mere loss. Privileged people give up privileges and, thus, freedom without gaining anything. But this view is rare.

Inclusion has a dual orientation (cf. Chap. 6, 1). The inclusion of the needs of others establishes at the same time the inclusion of my needs. Adhering to a male identity not only means neglecting the needs of others but also one’s own needs. Submitting to beauty standards demands enslaving one’s own body to these norms. Thus, exclusion always involves self-hostility (cf. p. 121). On the other hand, inclusion always means letting go of self-domination. Inclusion has an internal and external effect, just like exclusion. Racism—exclusion based on gender, social class and so on—legitimises the domination of certain privileged groups; however, it also restricts these groups through identity, splitting-off and self-hostility. Exclusion means my separation from others and from myself. That said, this dual orientation of inclusion does not mean that inclusion is easy. The inclusion of the needs of others, as well as the inclusion of one’s own needs, is a difficult process. Conflicts remain between the various needs and the task of their mediation. Taking one’s own needs seriously and overcoming their splitting-off also generates an increased contradiction to societal reality, which is increasingly experienced as an imposed demand. A strong effort must be made to act within the frame of these imposed demands, manage them, and act against them. Exhaustion due to permanent conflicts probably explains the forming of unburdening “bubbles”, distinct and trusted social areas in emancipatory movements. However, the goal of such inclusive areas should not be to subject people to inclusion as a new norm but, rather, to offer possibilities of accepting one’s own needs and those of others.

This, nevertheless, demands that emancipatory areas be learning spaces. We introduce all our interiorised domination into these areas, and we need such a secure environment to be able to change. Again, this requires tolerating faults and foreseeing errors. This idea of a learning space understandably contrasts with the wish for the existence of safe areas, with sensitive people having reflected on and overcome exclusion structures and privileges. This need for already safe areas often materialises in implicit and explicit rules. Not knowing these rules or how to handle them can quickly make one feel out of place, incompatible or inept, probably leading to anxiety and insecurity. If these feelings cannot be articulated, they limit the possibility of taking one’s own needs seriously and adjusting the areas accordingly. On the other hand, a free space does not mean “I can do what I want”; it rather outlines the possibility of, and the attempt at, collectively creating an inclusive area. From fundamental considerations it follows that this attempt is necessarily limited; we can, indeed, criticise and attack particular privileges and lines of exclusion, but there are no two ways about it: the overall exclusion logic can only be overcome societally.

4.4.2 The Guiding Function of Feelings Towards Awareness

Feelings evaluate my needs against the background of the world (cf. p. 113). Thus, they are the foundation of my self-perception. Neglecting them means neglecting myself. However, feelings are no final judgement. My feelings do not represent all of reality and should not define it. By listening to them I can be in better contact with my relationship to the world, my premises about the world, and my needs. This also gives me important clues on what limiting dynamics exist in social areas. My frustration can hint at exclusions in group processes. This helps in finding out which conditions simplify taking one’s own feelings and needs seriously without, however, making them the sole standard for everybody. There are good reasons to wish for one’s own feelings to be the standard for collective activity if one is afraid of exclusion and of having needs ignored. Hence strategies for action, described with unpleasant words like “emotional terror”, hinting at dynamics of feared exclusion. Contempt or condemnation should not be the answer to these strategies but, rather, attempts to create safe areas—and that means inclusive areas—where feelings and needs are taken seriously, where we try to understand them and act accordingly.

4.4.3 Radicalness Lies in the New Form of Relationship

The new quality of emancipatory practice is not so much its (political) output but the new forms of relationship and mediation we engage in. Whereas state-oriented transformation rather aims at enforcing political goals, transvolution is above all focussed on creating new forms of re/producing our life conditions. Thus, a separation of path and goal is counterproductive. The path must incorporate the goal in its unrealised form, the seed form; it must be noticeable and lived. Therefore, the transformation process cannot be dominated by a process of sacrifice and suffering until—through a state-based break—the new heavenly society dawns. No, the process of liberation itself must be need-oriented. The satisfaction of our needs is its scale and goal. This gives enjoyment and quality of life their place in the transformation. They should be present as a claim in our practice of changing society.

4.4.4 Towards Voluntariness and the Disposal of Conditions

The more we dispose of the material, symbolic, and social conditions of our actions, the more possibilities we have to satisfy our needs. Then we can proactively design our living environment in such a way that we can do what is important to us, in a way that motivates us. A free society must grant us a collective and conscious disposal of our societal conditions (cf. Chap. 5, 2.4). The goal of transvolution is the disposal of the re/production of our life conditions, so that we can organise these conditions in voluntariness. So, practice must answer the following questions: How can we increasingly dispose of our conditions in our practice, in our projects? How can we inclusively organise disposal in such a way that we avoid giving other people good reasons to limit our disposal? Mechanisms of exclusion are also present in our areas, but we can try designing the inner structures in a way that encourages inclusion as much as possible, on the basis of voluntariness and collective disposal. In this process, our inner logic of organisation must always be protected against exclusive suggestions of the dominant societal structures. The external transpersonal logics of exchange, exclusion and domination should penetrate our internal interpersonal relationships as little as possible—well aware of the fact that both “inside” and “outside” pass through us.

Our feelings can be a guiding basis for action in our search for an inclusive expansion of our disposal. They inform us on our perceptions of the world and needs, and they can help us in our search for trusting and safe relationships. Inclusive mediation also requires awareness of our societal conditions. We need theories and analyses that will help us better understand society. Given that we are the society, we consciously want to conceptualise this awareness, which is always self-awareness. In a transvolution we will get to know ourselves, our feelings, our ways of thinking, and our needs. Designing our new conditions will be accompanied by developing and unfolding new needs. Self-understanding and self-exploration demand safe and trusting areas in which our needs and ways of thinking are not devaluated as inappropriate, bizarre, or abstruse, where they can be consulted and, thus, may be understood. This requires a trust and safety which only prevails in inclusive areas governed by voluntariness and collective disposal.

Voluntariness and collective disposal and, thus, awareness, trust, and safety can only become a reality when we also dispose of the transpersonal conditions and when our needs can become the scale of our societal organisation. We have outlined the main path leading to this goal. The concrete steps we have only hinted at, and our wish is that we can walk the path together and develop it (further) together. For that purpose, we need theory as well as a practice aiming at transvolution. The path is still foggy, but the direction is clear: mediation without exclusion, a life not at the expense of others, relationships without anxiety.