DAY 10, YOUR STRENGTH IS MY STRENGTH, book 4, building

|| days 10-8 || 22-24 March || More meetings, more defiance ||  YOUR STRENGTH IS MY STRENGTH. At five in the morning a wave of sabotage acts hit the future town’s building site, the Jellybridge train station, cottages and stables. At seven past seven Anthony, the head of Building Site Security, called Alice with his  report. ‘I’m glad it happened now,’ he said. ‘Once we’ve fully assessed the damages, we should be able to close pretty much every security gap.’ ‘Injuries?’ ‘None. The horses got a scare, but Jimmy says, they’ll be fine.’ ‘Anything I can do?’ ‘We need your decision on how to play this. We can make a big deal about it to warn off others. Or we pretend not to be bothered by the attacks.’ Alice frowned. ‘I don’t like playing. Let’s simply state the facts: Some people did a security check for us, voluntarily, found some gaps, and we’re happy to close these gaps.’ Anthony laughed. ‘I’d call that: playing it cool.’ Alice grimaced with a smile in the mix. After this exchange, Alice soon ended the call and quickly finished dressing in a blue jeans and a dark-grey hoody. // At eight, the project sent out more invitations to the groundbreaking ceremony. This time to a wide range of recipients in the UK and globally. The news about the invitations caused another uproar, stirred by the press and on social media, with some people commenting along the lines: When will this charade end? Who do these people think they are? And others applauding: Whether you like the town project or not, their insistence on making their town happen has a certain charm. // By this time the Campaigns & Negotiations team were discussing the upcoming FOCUS WEEK, detailing their plans for each of the final seven days. ‘Do you really think, we’ll have to do all seven days?’ Skye (care) wondered aloud. ‘What’s on your mind, Skye?’ Robin (education) asked. ‘Well, I love how we build up from the individual to the community, and then straight into the systems that screw with us, namely our economic and political systems, and then we go wild in rewilding, show how everything is connected, and as the final bang, on day seven, we ask the biggest of all questions: Do we want a future? I love this. So, I’m thinking, can’t we speed it up? Like, couldn’t we do all seven parts every day, make it a daily journey? Maybe then it really sinks in, and we get our town sooner.’ Several people frowned, and Heather (media) said: ‘You have great a point. You really do. But after the overload of topics at our campaigns, so far, I think we should stick with our plan to focus. One main topic a day.’ Several people nodded and Alice said: ‘But I like your idea, Skye. Maybe we could create another boot camp, a kind of rethinking boot camp which offers the same kind of thoughts experience from exploring the body and community, to rethinking systems, then diving into rewilding and connecting, and from there on to the most existential question of our time: Do we want a future? It could be a day camp or a weekend camp.’ ‘After the thirty-first of March,’ Dennie chipped in and Alice smiled. ‘Yes! After we got our town. Skye?’ ‘Love it! We could offer it in our town, too, for towners, and for visitors. And then, it could be a whole week — or two.’ // The Campaigns & Negotiations Team were still in their meeting when Alice was unexpectedly called to parliament. ‘Oh! Are we back on?’ Alice asked Jazz, on their way to the security car. ‘We don’t know,’ Jazz replied. About an hour later, Alice was brought to another meeting room, crammed with mostly standing people and with another combination of a semicircular, which seated five MPs, and a straight table which seated her facing the five, plus chairs along the walls, all occupied. After a formal welcome by the chair of the meeting, another MP at the table remarked dismissively: ‘Alice Adler, you look like a teenager who thinks he’s in a boyband — not like a person who can be taken seriously.’ ‘Hear, hear,’ several MPs called and laughed. Frowning, Alice looked herself up and down, and, meeting the MPs eyes again, she said: ‘That’s how you show your maturity, by remarking on the casual outfit I wear when I work, and when I don’t expect to be rushed to this place? Hm. But you know what, next time I won’t hurry when you call. I’ll take a bath, see my hair stylist and take time to choose something — How did you put it? — so you can take me seriously. Though, I don’t like the idea that my clothes should impress you. Allow me to assure you, I’m neither cotton nor silk. I am flesh and bone, mind and soul, worried about the future of our planet, and determined to fight for our town.’ ‘You’re mocking us!’ ‘Nah, you’re doing that yourself.’ ‘There will be no next time!’ ‘Luckily that’s up to your people — not to you. Theoretically. I mean if you practice democracy, that is. Otherwise, of course, you might get your wish. But I have faith in your people.’ ‘Ms Adler, we thought we’d made it very clear that we want your project gone. We assume you have people on your team who understand the English language—’ ‘—Traitors!’ two of the standing people called. ‘We told you to stop your events. Yet, you still march on our streets, you still eat on our streets, you still dance on our streets, you still occupy our streets.’ Alice shook her head. ‘The marches are independent. They are neither organised nor sponsored by our project.’ ‘And who’s supposed to believe that?’ one of the spectators called. ‘Anyone who isn’t so drenched in lies that they can’t imagine billions of people who don’t lie! But then, a good liar should be able to recognise that I don’t lie.’ ‘We haven’t met,’ another MP interjected loudly, and the standing crowd parted to let a smirking MP through, black suit, black tie. ‘We haven’t met,’ he repeated, stopping close to the table where Alice sat. ‘There is something you’ve overlooked, Ms Adler. Even if the majority of parliament voted for the town, you’d still need my vote to proceed because the Jellybridge Estate is in my constituency. I’ve studied our queen’s offer, which she must have issued to make an example of you. The offer states that my constituency will have to approve your plans. So let me tell you this: No one in my constituency will suffer twelve years of your mad town experiment. Not on my watch!’ Alice clenched her fists, but her voice was surprisingly calm — and jovial. ‘And here I was thinking that it’s your job to represent the people in your constituency. Did I miss the memo that says otherwise? You see, I get a lot of positive feedback from your people. Of course, I know that our neighbour isn’t happy about us, the one who owns the coastline beyond the Jellybridge Estate. Rich person, right? With a title, right? Do you get paid by our neighbour to vote against the will of your people?’ ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about!’ ‘I’m speculating. I don’t pretend to present facts. But you know what? I have an excellent team. Really big, too. The moment, you are the one and only remaining obstacle in the way of a project that is designed to benefit people and planet, I will have my team set up an online vote for the people of your constituency so that they can let you know what it is they want. And I’ll do you one better. I won’t just make it about my project. I’ll make it about the right to roam, about development projects, about the commons, about rewilding, about the NHS, and I’ll throw in food security, and every other topic, your people are overdue to get a vote on, and not just a vote but a stage to add their input, their questions, their worries, their wished. To be honest, I’m sort of curious how you’d wriggle yourself out of voting for us once the votes of your people are in.’ Some MPs applauded openly, others smiled a little. The Jellybridge MP was foaming. But two colleagues had their hands on his shoulders, indicating that he had lost this round and should concede, for now. Grimacing, the Jellybridge MP allowed himself to be steered back into the crowd of spectators. Alice grimaced, too. She liked winning, but she would have preferred some kind of outcome. Reluctant to let go of the exchange, she allowed a spontaneous thought to jump out: ‘OK! If twelve years is impossible for you, how many years would be acceptable?’ ‘One!’ the MP shot back over his shoulder. Alice’s face hardened. ‘I’m not building a whole town to do a one-year experiment!’ ‘Alice Adler!’ one of the MPs at the table said impatiently. ‘We voted! We voted against your project. And yet, you act against our decisions. You ridicule us with your invitations to a groundbreaking ceremony which will never take place. You mock us with your preparations at the Jellybridge Estate. This has to end! No one wants you. No one wants your ideas. This is not how we do things. Who are you anyway? A scientists? No. A politician? No. Have you ever served this country? No. Or any other? No! Why should we waste our time on you? You are nobody!’ ‘Hear, hear!’ several MPs shouted, though other MPs seemed to murmur some protests. Alice was clenching her fists again, her face flushed, her eyes burning with defiance. ‘So what? The town project isn’t about me! It’s about rethinking pretty much everything — something we obviously need. And why not? Why shouldn’t we question everything that makes us sick, everything that fails us? Why shouldn’t we rethink life on planet Earth? Why shouldn’t we relearn that humans are part of nature not its masters? Why shouldn’t we redefine how we deal with each other? Why? Because you are afraid of a world that works? Because you are afraid of something you have never experienced? Humans can be courageous — and so can you. With all the modern tools of research and with all the failures and mistakes of the past, we potentially know so much more than our ancestors. I mean, who suspected that fossil fuels would damage us and our planet this dramatically? Who knew that insects aren’t simply a nuisance but essential to our ecosystems? When did we ever experience the benefits of communicating with fellow humans from around the world? We have the means, the people, the mistakes, the tools — all of which we can use this to rethink our world. We don’t have to hide in stuffy halls, reiterating stuffy ideas, the very ideas which have brought our planet to its knees. And for what? For the illusion of importance? For the illusion that numbers in a bank account have meaning or purpose? For the illusion that we can protect ourselves when we hold others down? Illusions! We can rid ourselves of all the nonsense we accumulated in our minds, and we can create a world where people and planet thrive and where you, too, will be the happier for it. We—’ ‘—Alice Adler! You make it painfully clear that you don’t measure up to our standards. I doubt that rhetoric classes would help. We demanded your presence this morning to impress on you to stop your campaigns and your projects. We voted against you. We want you gone. You are not worth our attention.’ Alice exhaled and returned quietly. ‘I will continue with the campaigns and with the preparations for building our town because the queen gave me until the thirty-first of March, another ten days, to make my case in favour of the town — and I will. We sent you material on critical issues, and we would appreciate your constructive feedback. Other than that, I actually have an appointment at the march, the one for our town. Good day.’ When Alice stood up and turned, several MPs protested. ‘We did not give you leave to leave!’ But Alice ignored their calls and left. Bloody waste of time! // It was only some twenty minutes later when Alice stood on the stage at the march that a defiant smile managed to surface, and she said: ‘Your pain is my pain, your frustration is my frustration, your defiance is my defiance, YOUR STRENGTH IS MY STRENGTH!’ Thunderous applause erupted, mixed with drums, trumpets and shouts. ‘This morning,’ Alice continued eventually, ‘I was called to a meeting in parliament, and parts of the British government proved again that they, like all governments on this planet, choose to fail us, to fail our planet, to deny us a future. The government seems unaware that it exists to serve the citizens of their country not the other way around. We don’t have to accept this! We don’t have to accept the government’s lack of imagination, lack of understanding, lack of accountability, lack of seeing fellow humans in us, lack of understanding that humans aren’t made to fill the government’s pockets but to live in communities, that humans aren’t made to research for their government’s advantage but to explore together in their communities and beyond, that humans aren’t made to fight their government’s wars but to enjoy each other’s company, that humans aren’t made to clean up their government’s messes but to thrive in communities!’ Another applause erupted, and Alice smiled, inhaling the defiant energy. ‘Your strength is my strength,’ she whispered as the applause thundered on. When Alice spoke again, she said: ‘Today’s campaign events are all about the strength of the other. So often we believe that our strength cannot coexist with the strength of others. It’s a narrative we have come to believe because we have been taught that we must compete, that one single person must be the winner, the strongest, the one unmatched. At our project, we test a new story, a new mindset, a new approach. We guess that if we empower the other instead of competing with them, if we enjoy their strength instead of feeling threatened by it, if I applaud the ingenuity of the other instead of fighting it, then — and only then — can the strength of the other become my strength because our pride and joy in the other will fill us with energy. Your strength is my strength because standing here with you fills me with energy and with the strength to continue to fight for the town, for you, for the planet.’ // In the early afternoon, a commentator wrote: The march in favour of the town was a hundred times larger than the march against the town. The speech by Alice Adler sent waves of defiance across the globe and shockwaves into the halls of politics and corporate interests. In contrast, the best speech by the town’s opponents reaped millions of ridiculing memes. Are the tables turning? Can a project for a town defy the powers that rule the world with their greed and superiority complexes? Not likely. But then, maybe they can. Apart from the marches and some other high-profile events, there is one campaign initiative, people around the world talk about: GIVING A STAGE. The idea for this initiative is so simple that I wonder why no one has ever done it before. At its core, this event is about giving someone else a voice by giving them a stage and our attention. The campaign teams only provided the stages and the schedules which determine which group has the stage when. There are different schedules for each location around the globe, and for several online feeds. Here is an example for New York City: 6:00-6:30 indigenous voices, 6:45-7:15, people in wheelchairs, 7:30-8:00 Dutch immigrants, 8:15-8:45, people aged nine to eleven, 9:00-9:30 people who work in tourism, 9:45-10:15 ancestors of slaves, 10:30-11:00 veterans, 11:15-11:45 people who clean the city, 12:00-12:30 blind people, 12:45-13:15 Japanese immigrants, 13:30-14:00 people aged eighty plus, 14:15-14:45 single fathers, 15:00-15:30 teachers, 15:45-16:15 people with cancer, 16:30-17:00 homeless people, 17:15-17:45 independent journalists, 18:00-18:30 parents, 18:45-19:15 students, 19:30-20:00 artists, 20:15-20:45 Hispanic immigrants, 21:00-21:30 doctors, 21:45-22:15 dog owners, 22:30-23:00 conmen 23:15-23:45 bakers, 00:00-00:30 celebrities. How does it work? In each time slot, only people of the scheduled group speak, and all other participants listen. It’s mind-blowing: giving people a stage and listening to them instead of everyone shouting all the time and no one listening. In between the slots there is a fifteen minutes break for an exchange between the groups. People have asked: What does GIVING A STAGE have to do with YOUR STRENGTH IS MY STRENGTH? More than you would think. There is the rather obvious point that when we listen, we are likely to learn something, and what we learn can potentially strengthen us. A less obvious point is that a society of frustrated, undervalued, discouraged people, is a society on a downward spiral. Frustration is contagious. By giving someone a stage for their voice, and my attention, I strengthen that person, I elevate my fellow human, and that drains frustration from a person’s soul. A society of empowered, emboldened people with a voice, with a stage where they can contribute, that’s a society on an upwards trajectory, a society where the strength of one person strengthens all others, where the accumulated strengths become part of a society’s fabric. // In the later afternoon, several companies and organisations announced that they would take off the coming week to support the town project, and to make it possible for their staff to partake in the daily marches, as well as giving themselves and their staff time to think, time to come together, time to create visions for a healing world. ‘Which daily marches?’ Emine asked. Dennie smiled. ‘Apparently, there will be daily marches from tomorrow on, if necessary until the deadline next Friday. Some groups have already started building tent camps here at the Compound and elsewhere. Groups in other cities and towns will start marching from Saturday on.’ Emine shook her head, smiling. ‘That’s a general strike! That’s sticking the finger up and saying, we’ve had enough, we don’t play along any more, we want a world that works for us, we take the week off to get some thinking and marching done. That’s fantastic!’ 

© Charlie Alice Raya, book 4, building, 2025