Archives de Tag: Maple spring


10 octobre

In English Below

Les Indignés du Québec vous invitent à une grande fête de famille, le samedi 19 octobre prochain pour marquer le deuxième anniversaire de la Place du peuple. Venez fêter avec nous l’éveil de conscience que ce lieu symbolise. Pour l’occasion nous nous rappellerons les événements de 2011 et les relierons au présent et à l’avenir. Nous parlerons du chemin parcouru, des enjeux actuels et des défis qui s’annoncent. Apportez votre enthousiasme et votre pensée politique critique ! Bienvenue à celles et ceux qui n’étaient pas là en 2011.

14h00 : Ouverture de la journée : Chorale du peuple et discours brefs
14h30 : Cercles de parole, espace artistique et micro ouvert
Propositions de cercles de paroles:
18h00 : Souper avec la Cuisine du peuple
19h00 : Film : À déterminer  (Peut-être le nouveau film de Yannis Youlountas  intitulé  : Ne vivons plus comme des esclaves, qui montre que l’Utopie est possible à travers l’exemple des indignés  Grec : )

anniversaireThe People’s Place will soon be two years old. On Saturday October 19th, come celebrate the awareness-raising that this space symbolizes. We will be revisiting what happened in 2011, and how it connects to the present and the future. Discussions will be held around the social justice actions taken since, today’s struggles and tomorrow’s challenges. Bring your enthusiasm and your critical political literacy skills. Welcome to those who had never visited the occupation in 2011.

2pm: Opening: Chorale du Peuple performance and some brief speeches
2:30pm: Discussion circles, art space, and an open mic
Proposals for discussion circles:
6pm: Dinner served by the People’s Kitchen
7pm: Film screening (to be announced, it might be the movie Ne vivons plus comme des esclaves, a film from Yannis Youlountas,  a documentary about the Occupy movement in Greece. :
Indignons nous
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En 2011, dans la foulée des soulèvements populaires des pays arabes, des milliers de personnes à travers le monde ont établi des campements auto-gérés dans des quartiers financiers. Les plus connus étant ceux des Indignados d’Espagne et d’Occupy-Wall Street à New York. Un campement similaire a vu le jour en octobre à Montréal au Square Victoria que nous avons rebaptisé la Place du peuple. Bien que l’occupation n’a duré que 6 semaines, son influence est durable. Après l’éviction, plusieurs des groupes d’affinité et des individus transformés politiquement ont continué de lutter contre l’exploitation et les inégalités sociales. La contestation contre le néolibéralisme s’est intensifiée durant le Printemps Érable qui fut accompagnée d’une répression policière sans précédent. Une troisième vague de contestation contre le néo-colonialisme est menée par les Premières Nations du mouvement Idle No More. Où en sommes nous maintenant? Le samedi 19 octobre, nous aurons la chance de se réunir et de réfléchir sur le pouvoir spontané et imprévisible du mouvement populaire de justice sociale.

Amélie Veille, une belle indignée. Cliquez pour l'entendre chanter

Amélie Veille, une belle indignée. Cliquez pour l’entendre chanter

In 2011, galvanized by the popular uprisings of the Arab Spring, thousands of people across the world established autonomously-run camps in downtown financial districts. The best known being those of the Indignados in Spain and Occupy-Wall Street in New York. One such camp sprung up in October in Montreal at Square Victoria, which was renamed The People’s Place. Although the occupation lasted only 6 weeks, its impacts were long lasting. After the eviction, many of the camp’s related affinity groups and politically transformed individuals continued to fight exploitation and social inequalities. The battle against neo-liberalism intensified during the Maple Spring, which was accompanied by unprecedented police repression. A third wave of protests against neo-colonialism were led by the First Nations in the Idle No More movement. Where are we now? On Saturday October 19th, we will have the chance to meet up and reflect on the spontaneous and unpredictable power of grassroots social justice movements.

la main du peuple

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Du côté d’Occupy Wall Sreet

La révolution des Casseroles s’étend à New York où les Indignés américains appuient la lutte de leurs frères et sœurs indigné-es du Québec

An Open Letter to the Mainstream English Media, From Montreal

Posted 5 heures ago on mai 27, 2012, 1:54 matin EST by OccupyWallSt

Written and published at Translating the printemps érable

Thank you; you are a little late to the party, and you are still missing the mark a lot of the time, but in the past few days, you have published some not entirely terrible articles and op-eds about what’s happening in Quebec right now. Welcome to our movement.

Some of you have even started mentioning that when people are rounded up and arrested each night, they aren’t all criminals or rioters. Some of you have admitted that perhaps limiting our freedom of speech and assembly is going a little bit too far. Some of you are no longer publishing lies about the popular support that you seemed to think our government had. Not all of you, mind you, but some of you are waking up.

That said, here is what I have not seen you publish yet: stories about joy; about togetherness; about collaboration; about solidarity. You write about our anger, and yes, we are angry. We are angry at our government, at our police and at you. But none of you are succeeding in conveying what it feels like when you walk down the streets of Montreal right now, which is, for me at least, an overwhelming sense of joy and togetherness.

News coverage of Quebec almost always focuses on division: English vs. French; Quebec-born vs. immigrant; etc. This is the narrative that has shaped how people see us as a province, whether or not it is fair. But this is not what I feel right now when I walk down the street. At 8pm, I rush out of the house with a saucepan and a ladle, and as I walk to meet my fellow protesters, I hear people emerge from their balconies and the music starts. If you do not live here, I wish I could properly convey to you what it feels like; the above video is a start. It is magic. It starts quietly, a suggestion here and there, and it builds. Everybody on the street begins to smile. I get there, and we all—young and old, children and students and couples and retirees and workers and weird misfits and dogs and, well, neighbours—we all grin the widest grins you have ever seen while dancing around and making as much noise as possible. We are almost ecstatic with the joy of letting loose like this, of voicing our resistance to a government that seeks to silence us, and of being together like this.

I have lived in my neighbourhood for five years now, and this is the most I have ever felt a part of the community; the lasting impact that these protests will have on how people relate to each other in the city is deep and incredible. I was born and raised in Montreal, and I have always loved this city, I have always told people that it is the best city in the world, but I have truly never loved it as much as I do right now.

The first night that I went to a casseroles (pots and pans) demonstration, at the centre of the action—little children ecstatically blowing whistles, a young couple handing out extra pots and pans to passers-by, a yoga teacher who paused his class to have everyone join—I saw a bemused couple, banging away, but seemingly confused about something. When we finished, they asked me, “how did you find us?” I replied that I had checked the map that had been posted online of rendez-vous spots, and theirs was the nearest to my house. “Last night we were all alone,” they told me. They had no idea it had been advertized online. This is what our revolution looks like: someone had clearly ridden around our neighbourhood, figured out where people were protesting, and marked them for the rest of us. This is a revolution of collaboration. Of solidarity.

The next night the crowd had doubled. Tonight we will be even more.

I come home from these protests euphoric. The first night I returned, I sat down on my couch and I burst into tears, as the act of resisting, loudly, with my neighbours, so joyfully, had released so much tension that I had been carrying around with me, fearing our government, fearing arrest, fearing for the future. I felt lighter. Every night, I exchange stories with friends online and find out what happened in their neighbourhoods. These are the kinds of things we say to each other: “if I loved my city any more right now, my heart would burst.” We use the word “love” a whole lot. We feel empowered. We feel connected. We feel like we are going to win.

Why don’t you write about this? This incredible feeling? Another example I can give you is this very blog. Myself and a few friends began it as a way of disseminating information in English about what was happening here in Quebec, and within hours, literally hours, volunteers were writing me offering to help. Every day, people submit translations to me anonymously; I have no idea who they are, they just want to do something. They come from everywhere. They translate what they think is important to get out there into the world. People email me corrections, too. They email me advice. They email me encouragement. This blog runs on solidarity and utter human kindness.

This is what Quebec looks like right now. Every night is teargas and riot cops, but it is also joy, laughter, kindness, togetherness, and beautiful music. Our hearts are bursting. We are so proud of each other; of the spirit of Quebec and its people; of our ability to resist, and our ability to collaborate.

Why aren’t you writing about this? Does joy not sell as well as violence? Does collaboration not sell as well as confrontation? You can have your cynicism; our revolution is sincere.


The Administrator of Translating the printemps érable.

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