It Could Happen Here - CZM Book Club : The Revolutionary Fables of Ricardo Flores Magón, Part Two

Episode Date: June 8, 2025

Margaret reads you more short stories written by the one of the ideological leaders of the Mexican Revolution.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

This is an iHeart Podcast. is irresponsible son, but I have DNA proof that could get the money back. Hold up, they could lose their family and millions of dollars? Yup, find out how it ends by listening to the OK Storytime podcast on the iHeartRadio app, Apple podcast, or wherever you get your podcasts. Have you ever thought about going voiceover? I'm Hope Woodard, a comedian, creator, and seeker of male validation. I'm also the girl behind VoiceOver,

the movement that exploded in 2024. You might hear that term and think it's about celibacy, but to me, VoiceOver is about understanding yourself outside of sex and relationships. It's flexible, it's customizable, and it's a personal process. Singleness is not a waiting room. You are actually at the party right now.

Let me hear it. Listen to VoiceOver on the iHeartRadio app, Apple podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. A lot of times big economic forces show up in our lives in small ways. Four days a week, I would buy two cups of banana pudding, but the price has gone up, so now I only buy one. Small but important ways. Small but important ways. From tech billionaires to the bond market to, yeah, banana pudding. If it's happening in business, our new podcast is on it. I'm Max Chastin. And I'm Stacey Vanek-Smith. So listen to everybody's business on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts,

or wherever you get your podcasts. The Medal of Honor is the highest military decoration in the United States. Recipients have done the improbable, the unexpected, showing immense bravery and sacrifice in the name of something much bigger than themselves. This medal is for the men who went down that day. On Medal of Honor, stories of courage, you'll hear about these heroes and what their stories tell us about the nature of bravery.

Listen to Medal of Honor on the iHeartRadio app, Apple podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Cool Zone Media. Book club, book club, book club. Hello, and welcome to Cool Zone Media Book Club! Book Club! Book Club! Hello, and welcome to Cool Zone Media Book Club. The only book club where you have to chant at the beginning of it. It's the only book club that's ever been devised that way. I'm your host, Margaret Killjoy, and each week I bring you stories about different things.

And this week, I'm going to continue where we were last week. From where we were last week? I'm going to continue from where we were last week, which is that we were reading a bunch of different fables, as it were, written by Ricardo Flores Magón, who, if you didn't listen to last week's or don't know who that is, was a Mexican revolutionary, one of the main ideological thinkers of the Liberal Party prior to the Mexican Revolution. And ironically, the Liberal Party was the anarchist party because political terminology is almost meaningless. And before and after, Magon helped with a lot of other people stage a massive uprising to try and bring power directly to workers and peasants and things like that across Mexico. He wrote a lot and he worked with a

newspaper that he and other people ran called Regeneracion, Regeneration, and he wrote a lot of parables. And so we're going to keep reading some of those parables because I find them interesting. I also find them heavy-handed, which is absolutely this is not the political way that I have any interest in writing personally. I find it really instructive to see the ways that different types of political fiction writers have written throughout the years. And I don't want to make this like sweeping generalization that like, oh, a hundred years ago before, you know, Ursula Gwynn, people didn't ever bother having any subtlety or self-critique in their political writing. Because that's actually

not the case at all. You know, I hope we get to talk about it more at some point. But this whole thing where, as far as I can tell, if you were in the literature scene of France in the 1890s and early aughts, you pretty much were an anarchist the same way that if you're a punk in the 1990s and early aughts in the US, if you wanted to be taken seriously, that's what you were. And I believe that the people writing that kind of literature saw themselves first and foremost as literature writers. And Oscar Wilde was a very good example of an anarchist fiction writer who certainly did not make his fiction bend to his political project. And we talked about it a bit in the episodes that we did about Oscar Wilde, but he actually very specifically believed that

you didn't have art for socialism's sake, you had socialism for art's sake because he wanted everyone to have the sort of free time and lives of leisure that more people can have when we actually share the bounty of this earth so that they can create things. Anyway, this first story that I'm going to read by McGaughan is called Justice, and it's from 1914. This one's real subtle. The governor, the capitalist, and the priest rested that afternoon in the shadow of an ash tree, which glowed vigorously in the canyon of the mountain range. The capitalist, visibly agitated, mashed the pulp of a

red booklet between his hands and said between sigh and sigh, all has been lost. My fields, my cattle, my mills, my factories, everything is now controlled by the revolutionaries. The governor, trembling with rage, said, it has ended. Now no one respects authority. And the priest elevated his eyes to the sky and said remorsefully, Wicked reason, she has murdered faith. The three pillars of society thought, thought, and thought. The previous night, some fifty revolutionaries had invaded the village.

The working class of the area had received them with open arms, while the town was searching for the governor, the capitalist, and the priest to demand from them a strict account of their actions. They fled to the canyon, seeking refuge. "'Our empire over the masses has ended,' said the governor and the capitalist in one voice." The empire over the masses has ended, said the governor and the capitalist in one voice. The priest smiled and said in a convinced tone, Do not worry yourselves.

Clearly, faith has lost some ground. However, I assure you that by means of religion we can recuperate all that we have lost. First of all, it appears that the ideas contained in this evil booklet have triumphed in the village. They will certainly triumph if we remain inactive. I do not deny that these wicked ideas enjoy sympathy among the people. However, others refuse them, especially the ideas that directly attack religion. Among these last people, we must foment a reactionary movement.

Fortunately, the three of us could escape. If we had perished in the hands of the revolutionaries, the old institutions would have died with us. The capitalist and the governor felt as if they had been liberated from a terrible burden. Inspired by greed, the capitalist's eyes drizzled. How? How would it be possible for him to enjoy again

the possession of his fields, his cattle, his mills, and his factories? Hadn't it all been just a cruel nightmare? Would he return to having the entire population of his district under his power, thanks to the good minister of religion? And, standing up, he shook his fist in the direction of the village, whose farmhouses glowed brightly under the rays of the May sun. The governor, emotional, said with conviction, I have always believed that religion is the most solid support of the principle of authority.

Religion teaches that God is the first leader and that governors are his lieutenants on earth. Religion condemns rebellion because it considers governors to be above the people by will of God. Long live religion. Enamored by his own words, the governor snatched the red booklet from the hands of the capitalist, tearing it to pieces and throwing the scraps at the village as if challenging the noble insurrectionary proletariats. as if challenging the noble insurrectionary proletariats. Dogs, he cried, receive this with my saliva. The bits of paper were blown by the air,

flying cheerfully like butterflies playing. It was the manifesto of September 23rd, 1911. The first shadows of the night began to descend upon the valley. Through the twilight could be seen a red flag rippling on top of a small house in the village. It flaunted in white letters this inscription, Land and Liberty. The governor, the capitalist, and the priest cried out, shaking their fists towards the village.

Nest of vipers, we will soon crush you!" The last brushstrokes of the sun still shone, emitting from the west while disappearing. The frogs began their customary serenade, free, happy, ignorant of the miseries that make men suffer. In the ash tree, a pair of mockingbirds sang to each other of their free love without judges, without priests, without clerks. The gentle beauty of the hour invited the human heart to expose all its tortures, and to materialize all its sentiments in a work of art. Making the rocks shudder, a formidable cry rolled through the dale.

Who lives? The governor, the capitalist, and the priest trembled, foreseeing their end. The night had finally come, shrouding everything in blackness. The mockingbirds hushed up. The frogs quieted down. A gust of wind stirred the bows of the ash

in a sinister manner. In the awful darkness, a resonating, fateful cry returned. Who lives? manner. In the awful darkness, a resonating, fateful cry returned, Who lives? The three pillars of society remembered all their crimes in a second. They had enjoyed all the delicacies of life at the expense of the suffering of humble people. They had sustained the ignorance and misery of humanity in order to satisfy their appetites. A sound of energetic footsteps drew closer to them. It was the soldiers of the people, the soldiers of the social revolution. A discharge

of rifle shots felled the representatives of the Hydra with three heads, authority, capital, and church. And that's the end of the first story. But do you know what it's not the end of? You know what you're not free from? You're not free from advertisers because you have not had a social revolution that freed you from this yoke. And so here you are listening to ads.

Well, unless you have the social revolution of having Cooler Zone media, in which case you don't have to listen to ads, you just get to listen to ad pivots, which is the most fun part of the show for me. Have you ever thought about going voiceover? I'm Hope Woodard, a comedian, creator, and seeker of male validation.

To most people, I'm the girl behind VoiceOver, the movement that exploded in 2024. VoiceOver is about understanding yourself outside of sex and relationships. It's more than personal. It's political, it's societal, and at times, it's far from what I originally intended it to be. These days, I'm interested in expanding what it means to be voiceover, to make it customizable for anyone who feels the need to explore their relationship to relationships.

I'm talking to a lot of people who will help us think about how we love each other. It's a very, very normal experience to have times where a relationship is prioritizing other parts of that relationship that are being naked together. How we love our family. I've spent a lifetime trying to get my mother to love me, but the price is too high. And how we love ourselves. Singleness is not a waiting room. You are actually at the party right now. Let me hear it. Listen to VoiceOver on the iHeartRadio app,

Apple podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. DNA test proves he is not the father. Now I'm taking the inheritance. Wait a minute, John, who's not the father? Well, Sam, luckily it's your not the father week on the OK Storytime podcast, so we'll find out soon. This author writes, my father-in-law is trying to steal the family fortune

worth millions from my son, even though it was promised to us. Now I find out he's trying to give it to his irresponsible son instead, but I have DNA proof that could get the money back. Hold up, so what are they going to do to get those millions back? That's so unfair. Well, the author writes that her husband found out the truth from a DNA test they were gifted two years ago.

Scandalous. But the kids kept their mom's secret that whole time. Oh my god. And the real kicker, the author wants to reveal this terrible secret, even if that means destroying her husband's family in the process. So do they get the millions of dollars back or does she keep the family's terrible secret? Well to hear the explosive finale, listen to the OK Storytime podcast on the iHeart ReadyWAP, Apple Podcast, or wherever you get your podcasts. Camp Shane, one of America's longest-running

weight loss camps for kids, promised extraordinary results. Campers who began the summer in heavy bodies were often unrecognizable when they left. In a society obsessed with being thin, it seemed like a miracle solution. But behind Camp Shane's facade of happy, transformed children was a dark underworld of sinister secrets. Kids were being pushed to their physical and

emotional limits as the family that owned Shane turned a blind eye. Nothing about that camp was right. It was really actually like a horror movie. In this eight-episode series, we're unpacking and investigating stories of mistreatment and re-examining the culture of fatphobia that enabled a flawed system to continue for so long. You can listen to all episodes of Camp Shame one week early and totally ad-free on iHeart True Crime Plus. So don't wait.

Head to Apple Podcasts and subscribe today. A lot of times the big economic forces we hear about on the news show up in our lives in small ways. Three or four days a week I would buy two cups of banana pudding. But the price has gone up. So now I only buy one. The demand curve in action. And that's just one of the things we'll be covering on everybody's business from Bloomberg Businessweek. I'm Max Chafkin. And I'm Stacey Vanek-Smith. Every Friday we will be

diving into the biggest stories in business, taking a look at what's going on, why it matters, and how it shows up in our everyday lives. With guests like Businessweek editor Brad Stone, sports reporter Randall Williams, and consumer spending expert Amanda Mull will take you inside the boardrooms, the backrooms, even the signal chats that make our economy tick. Hey, I want to learn about VeChain. I want to buy some blockchain or whatever it is that they're doing. So listen to everybody's business on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get

your podcasts. And we're back. So, okay, rather than talking about them all, I want to talk about that last story really quickly. One of the things that I find so interesting about this story, there was this very strong conception in anarchist thought and a lot of revolutionary movements that was specifically like, these are the three heads, authority, the state, capital, and the church. And these are very reasonable positions to have. And what's interesting is that if you look at some of the antecedents, if you look at the modern Zapatistas, which I'm currently doing a deep dive on on my show, cool people who did cool stuff,

one of the things I found really fascinating is that when the Zapatistas were naming their territories, these are folks who have a bunch of autonomous territories in Chiapas, the southeastern most state in Mexico. It's an indigenous run area basically that they control. And they named a lot of their municipalities, all of these different things, and they named one of them Ricardo Flores Magon after the author of this text, not because he wrote this text,

but because he was an important thinker in this attempted social revolution of the 19 aughts. But one of the other municipalities is named after San Juan the Liberator and is named after the first saint who is indigenous to North America. And there's not necessarily the same antagonism towards the church. But actually within the Zapatista camp, there's also not necessarily the same antagonism towards government. They perceive the idea of government as upside down from the way that normal society does where they believe that

the people rule and the government follows. It's like their big thing, right? And they've set up a lot of structures around that. And so you have this movement that grew out of a lot of different movements. And one of the things that it grew out of was the liberation theology movement. And so I just find it fascinating how movements ebb and flow in the way that we frame these fairly important questions. And yet we're still part of the same movement on some level. The Zapatistas, their famous thing is that they fight for a world in which many worlds are possible. And I fucking love that. And I think they're great. Anyway, I'm gonna read you

another story. REWARDING MERITS 1916 The prison and the temple chat secretly, like two cronies who are tied together more by the nooses of crime than those of friendship. From the citadel escapes the stench of rotting cattle. From the temple emerges a fume laden with dismay, saturated with swooning, like the mouth of a cave in whose darkness all the debilitated grovel and all the impotent wring their arms. I abhor the people, says the citadel, yawning. However, I bestow my consideration and respect to the worthy, distinguished

people whose interests I shield. Each time the honorable guardian of order brings me a new guest, I shiver with emotion. My satisfaction climaxes when I feel more and more criminals stirring within my stone belly. There is a pause. Through the bars can be heard jangles of shackles, murmurs of protests, cracks of horse whips, bullying voices of authority amid the wheezing of harassed beasts. All of the horrible noises that form the horrible music of the prison. Great is your mission my friend of the prison says the temple. I reverently bow my towers before you.

I also feel satisfied to be the shield of distinguished people. Whereas you enchain the body of the criminal, I break the will of the people. I castrate their energy. Whereas you lift up a wall of stone between the hand of the poor and the treasures of the rich, I invent the fires of hell, putting them between the cup hand of the poor and the treasures of the rich, I invent the fires of hell, putting them between the cupidity of the miserably poor and the gold of the bourgeoisie." There is a pause.

Through the windows and the doors enter the aromas of incense and the fetid perspiration of the clustered cattle. From the blue space emerges sounds of sobbing, of supplications, a vile racket created by all the de-abilitated people and all the penitents, the abject music of the submissive and the defeated. As long as I remain standing, the master sleeps tranquilly, the prison says. While there are knees that touch my tiles, the master's power will remain standing, says the temple. There is a pause. The prison and the temple appear to meditate.

The first satisfied for enchaining the body. The second content for enchaining consciousness. Both of them proud of their merits. In the corner of a small cave, some dynamite overhears their conversation, powerfully restraining its forces so that it does not explode from indignation. Wait, it says to itself. Wait, monuments of barbarism, for the bold hand that will unleash the blast from my bosom will arrive sooner than you think. In the belly of misery convulses the fetus of rebellion.

Wait! Wait for the fruit of centuries of exploitation and tyranny. The black phalanxes of men consume the last swallows of bitterness and sadness. The glass of patience overflows. Some more drops, and all the indignations will overflow. All the angers will leap out of their jail cells, all the audacities will transgress their limits. Wait somber edifices, cellars of agony, for in the great calendar of human suffering flares,

with colors of fire and blood, a red date, a new July 14th for all the bestials, those of the body and those of the consciousness. The cattle are standing up, converting themselves into men. Soon the sun will stop toasting the backs of the herd to illuminate the fronts of free men. Wait! You will remain standing only as long as I stay in this corner." But they forgot about the third pillar that keeps people, the fourth pillar that keeps people in line. Who could that be? Anyway, unrelated, here's some ads. Have you ever thought about going voiceover? I'm Hope Woodard, a comedian, creator, and seeker of male validation. To most people, I'm the girl behind VoiceOver, the movement that exploded in 2024.

VoiceOver is about understanding yourself outside of sex and relationships. It's more than personal. It's political, it's societal, and at times, it's far from what I originally intended it to be. These days, I'm interested in expanding what it means to be voiceover, to make it customizable for anyone who feels the need to explore their relationship to relationships. I'm talking to a lot of people who will help us think about how we love each other. It's a very, very normal experience to have times where a relationship is prioritizing

other parts of that relationship that are being naked together. How we love our family. I've spent a lifetime trying to get my mother to love me, but the price is too high. And how we love ourselves. Singleness is not a waiting room. You are actually at the party right now. Let me hear it. Listen to VoiceOver on the iHeartRadio app, Apple podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. DNA test proves he is not the father. Now I'm taking

the inheritance. Wait a minute, John, who's not the father? Well, Sam, luckily it's your not the father week on the OK Storytime podcast. So we'll find out soon. This author writes, my father-in-law is trying to steal the family fortune worth millions from my son, even though it was promised to us. Now I find out he's trying to give it to his irresponsible son instead, but I have DNA proof that could get the money back. Hold up, so what are they going to do to get those millions back? That's so unfair.

Well, the author writes that her husband found out the truth from a DNA test they were gifted two years ago. Scandalous! But the kids kept their mom's secret that whole time. Oh my god. And the real kicker, the author wants to reveal this terrible secret, even if that means destroying her husband's family in the process. So, do they get the millions of dollars back, or does she keep the family's terrible secret? Well, to hear the explosive finale, listen to the OK Storytime podcast on the iHeart ReadyWAP Apple podcast or wherever you get your podcasts.

Camp Shane, one of America's longest running weight loss camps for kids, promised extraordinary results. Campers who began the summer in heavy bodies were often unrecognizable when they left. In a society obsessed with being thin, it seemed like a miracle solution. But behind Camp Shane's facade of happy, transformed children was a dark underworld of sinister secrets. Kids were being pushed to their physical and emotional limits as the family that owned Shane turned a blind eye. Nothing about that camp was right. It was really actually like a horror movie. In this eight-episode series, we're unpacking and investigating stories of mistreatment and re-examining the culture of fat phobia that enabled a flawed system to continue for so long.

You can listen to all episodes of Camp Shame one week early and totally ad free on iHeart True Crime Plus. So don't wait. Head to Apple Podcasts and subscribe today. A lot of times the big economic forces we hear about on the news show up in our lives in small ways. Three or four days a week, I would buy two cups of banana pudding, but the price has gone up. So now I only buy one. The demand curve in action.

And that's just one of the things we'll be covering on everybody's business from Bloomberg Businessweek. I'm Max Chafkin. And I'm Stacey Vanek-Smith. Every Friday we will be diving into the biggest stories in business, taking a look at what's going on, why it matters and how it shows up in our everyday lives. With guests like Businessweek editor Brad Stone, sports reporter Randall Williams, and consumer spending expert Amanda Mull

will take you inside the boardrooms, the backrooms, even the signal chats that make our economy tick. Hey, I want to learn about VeChain. I want to buy some blockchain or whatever it is that they're doing. So listen to everybody's business on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. And we're back. I talked about this a little bit on the last one. There did a lot of good work, but the thing that they ended up laying the groundwork for was the Mexican Revolution, which was captured fairly soon. And

the people that Magon was helping and that the Magenistas more broadly in the Liberal Party were helping went and then put down the actual social revolution. And so there's this intense bitterness and this like hope against hope being like, no, no, no, we're going to remember the dynamite. There's the line that the dynamite is powerfully restraining its forces so that it does not explode from indignation. And I think about this, I don't know if you all watch Andor, but there's a part in it where an old revolutionary is talking about the space gasoline that they're in the process of stealing and talking about how the revolutionaries like that gas. They understand each other because they

are the thing that explodes when there's too much friction in the air. And I just, I like this mirror of ideas across a hundred years and different countries. Okay, one more story for you. The triumph of the social revolution from 1915. Not dramatic at all. Juan is ecstatic. He has just seen a notice from Washington in a newspaper saying that they have recognized Carranza as the head of the executive power of the Mexican Republic. He effusively embraces his wife, Josefa. He kisses his young son and yells out, Now peace will be a reality,

misery will end, long live Carranza. Josefa stands there with her mouth open, looking attentively at her husband. She does not understand how merely raising a new president to power could put an end to misery. She casts a glance around the room, a room in a dead-end alleyway in the Mexico city neighborhood of Tepozan, and sighs. Everything around her is miserable. The wicker chairs are breaking apart at the bottom. The plate of the brazier does not have a sliver of carbon. The miserable bed flaunts sheets that display arbitrary drawings of maps, the product of a physically suffocated child. Atop the rickety table glows a stump of paraffin and the neck of a bottle streaked with dense droplets of melted fuel. Without realizing that his wife has not understood him, Juan yells,

An era of prosperity and liberty has opened before the Mexican people. Long live Carranza. Josefa opens her eyes insolently. Decidedly, she does not comprehend what relation could obtain between the exultation of an individual to power and the death of misery. She submerges herself in profound reflections until a louse, perhaps the hungriest among

the innumerable ones that populate her head, jabs her terribly and returns her to reality. She scratches furiously, eagerly, frenetically. At the same time, with a voice enfeebled from prolonged periods of fasting, she says to her husband, "'Could you tell me, Juan, what are the poor going to gain "'when Carranza ascends to the presidency?' "'Come on, Iosefa, do you still not understand these things? "'We are going to gain laws that benefit the worker. "'The ones we have favor the agricultural workers.

"'We are going to receive lands "'from the hands of the government. "'Finally, we are going to enjoy liberty and well-being." The outline of a grin forms on Josefa's lips, expressing the bitterness in her heart. Although poor, she has had the opportunity to read something about the history of Mexico. She remembers that all the presidents, before reaching a high position, swore, thousands and thousands of times to dedicate all their concerns to the well-being of the people. This was offered by the proclamations of Interbet, the manifestos of Bustamente, the edicts of Santa Ana, and the proclamations manifestos, songs and circulars of

Zoelaga and Camánfort of González and of Diaz, in a word of everyone, including Madero. All vowed to make the people happy and the people were disgraced under all of them. A bed bug walks slowly along the wall as if killing time by going out for a stroll while the poor people, the victims of the capitalist system, decide to go to bed. Iosefa sees it and with a prowess

that demonstrates a great deal of practice, smears it with the tip of her toe, leaving a bright red footprint on the wall. The miserable woman casts an almost sympathetic glance at her husband, a glance that appears to say, Poor slave, when will you open your eyes? Juan is radiant with joy, and shaking the newspaper overhead exclaims, This a constitutional order. Respected individuals guarantee the prerogatives of citizenship without bonds,

impartial administrative justice, free suffrage, no re-election, honor among public functionaries. What more could you want, my wife? Why do you make your face look so sorrowful?" Iosefa replies, This is all a very lovely dream. But what about the bread? Who will give us bread? Ha ha ha! For that I have arms, Wan says, laughing.

He adds, Only the lazy will die of hunger. Discouraged, Iosefa lets her arms drop. Decidedly, she thinks, Juan is a perfect sheep. Various louse bites make her scratch herself desperately until she begins to spout blood. Suddenly peals are heard. It is the church bells of the parish of Santa Ana. Drifting from Tezalala comes the rumble of cries, the clatter of firecrackers, the peal of all the church bells that every temple emitted in turn, mixed with the triumphant notes of a military band playing a two-step. The noise winds up, making Juan enthusiastic to the point of delirium. Taking off his hat, he marches out to the street to give free rein to his exultation,

crying at the top of his voice, Long live Karanza! It is the supporters of Karanza who are celebrating the recognition of Karanza's government extended by foreign governments and the capitalists they represent. A month has passed. Juan works, but his situation does not change. His miserable salary is just barely enough

to prevent himself, Josefa, and his young son from materially dying of hunger. The room still contains the same broken windows, the same miserable bed with its maps, the poor table that they still have not been able to replace. In the brazier, they still cannot cook a decent soup. Pieces of carbon cost too much, as if they were made of gold. The many bloody grooves in the

walls indicate that the bedbugs still have not abandoned their habit of going for a walk before eating. The louses extract the fire from the poor Iosefa. How much have we gained from the elevation of Caranza? Truly, my beloved Juan, Iosefa said with a certain sneer. Juan scratches his head, tormented by the louses and by the deception. He believed that Carranza's ascendance to power would ensure abundance in the home. Nevertheless, he cannot accept defeat. He exclaims, "'It is impossible that a government could make the people happy in just one month.

Let's give them some time so that they can implement the reforms that will benefit the masses. Then we will see. A year has passed. The conditions of Juan's life are the same as before. Certainly, the salaries are now greater. However, the owner of the house has increased the rents of the rooms. The merchants have raised the prices of many primary necessities. Clothes are more expensive now than they were before. Now he works no more than eight hours a day. However, in the end, he has to do the same, exactly the same, as he did before in twelve, fourteen, and even sixteen hours. Iosefa has a copy of Regeneration in her hands. She reads it with marked interest, abandoning

the reading for moments, only when the pokings of the parasite make the intervention of her fingernails absolutely indispensable. Juan paces back and forth around the room. Visibly agitated, he holds a red booklet in his hand, whose color is the only joyous tone in this dark well of misery, filth, and sadness. It is the Manifesto of September 23, 1911. Suddenly Juan interrupts his pacing and slapping his forehead exclaims, "'What a blockhead I've been!'

And along with me, all the workers who supported Carranza, we live here in misery, in the ultimate misery, even though we break our backs in work just like we did before we elevated that old scoundrel to power. Those redistributions of land wound up being the crudest deceptions.

One has to bribe officials to get anything. The laws that supposedly protect the worker are actually written to protect capital. The bourgeoisie contrived to retrieve everything they had lost to us in a cunning manner. The concessions they made in their constitutional orders do not profit poor people. We continue to be in virtue of our miserable poverty, the same pariahs as before.

Death to Carranza! Death to all government! yells Iosefa, shaking the issue of regeneration in her hand like a flag. Long live anarchy! Juan yells, shaking the red booklet, whose pages spout the freshness of youth, the exultations of spring, the balm of hope, and the rays of the sun for all who suffer, for all who breathe, for all who drag their existence along the black abyss of slavery and tyranny. For the first time, the sordid room is ennobled, for it serves as the haven of a pair of lions

and a cub. Several days passed. The barricades of Mexico City present a formidable front. The united neighborhoods of Merced, Cortados, and Manzanaras have erected barricades in two hours. Men, women, elders, and children, and even some disabled people have taken part in the work. The ugly edifice of the Merced Market has provided most of the material.

Behind the barricade bristles a sea of palm hats. The leather sandals and the crude shoes of the defenders tread the black land energetically, now proud to serve as pedestals for a band of heroes. For many moments they await the attack of government forces. Everything is activity behind the barricade. The women dig trenches, the men wash their rifles, the children distribute outfits to those champions of the proletariat. A red flag showing in white letters the inscription, Land and Liberty, smiles to the sun at the top of the barricade, sending its salute to all the disinherited

of the earth from its peak. The proletariat of capital is up in arms against capital, the government, and the church. The proletarians of Rostro and San Antonio Abad do not display any less activity. The butchers sharpen their knives, testing them with the tips of their thumbs. The streets adjacent to Rostro and the factory of Helados and Tahitos are stripped of pavement. All the materials have been converted into resources for the construction of the barricade. Tables, pottery, pianos, clothing, mattresses—all have been brought down in a horribly confusing heap of objects, serving to shield the noble bosoms of its defenders.

Belen and Salto del Aguo, San Cosme and Santa Maria de la Rivarra, San Lazaro and San Antonio Tomatlán, La Bolsa and Tapito, San Juan, Nuevo Alocco, Santa Maria de la Redonda, La Laguinha.

All of the various districts of the populous city have vacated their neighborhoods and their dwellings, emboldened by the revolutionary fire. They prepare to resist the attack of the military officers supporting Carranza. The barricades sprung forth from the land in an opening and closing of eyes. The barricades of St. Lorenzo and St. Antonio Tamatlán

shows upon its summit a singular flag. It is an old petticoat, torn and grimy. It is the flag of misery. It is the brave rag defying the world of oppression and privilege. As long as the tatters are not detached from the proletariat's bodies, the master remains tranquil. When it appears attached to the top of a staff,

the world trembles. Whereas all the barricades are filled with enthusiasm, nothing surmounts the activity, enthusiasm, audacity, and revolutionary zeal in the united barricade of the neighborhoods of Peruvio, Santa Ana, and Tezantale. Juan and Josefa do not rest for a moment. Blackened with powder, they look very beautiful, sweating, panting, crossing to and fro in the barricade, communicating energy and enthusiasm to its defenders. Suddenly, a formidable clamor,

followed by rifle shots and bugle blasts, can be heard from the direction of Concepcion Tequipihuca. It is our comrades from Bolsa and Tapito fighting Juan Cries, tossing his hat into the air. A few minutes later, the air resounds with the roar of cannons, the racket of rifle shots, the beating of the drums, the angry cries of the bugle, the martial airs of the military bands. They are all jumbled together in one singular thunderous crack throughout the entire city. All the barricades were being attacked simultaneously by Karanza's forces. Juan

and Josefa climb to the height of the barricade where they see a dense column of Karanza supporters approaching the streets of Santo Domingo on foot. Finally, the enemy is closing in, comrades, they yell at the same time. Everybody, choose the place that best suits you to defend our bastion. In an instant the barricade is crowned with rifles. The enemy places two cannons at the base of Santa Catarina y Moraz Street while part of the column continues advancing toward the barricade which is situated at the base of the street. An imperious voice emerges from

the column when it is a hundred paces away from the barricade. In the name of the supreme government, give yourselves up, it says. Long live land and liberty, the defenders of the barricade answer. Rifle shots follow rapidly from both sides. The cannons direct their projectiles against the center of the barricade in order to open a breach. The smoke saturates the atmosphere until it becomes unbreathable. The attack is furious, the resistance formidable. Caranzas officers accompany their shots with abusive words. The proletarian defenders of the barricade sing,

Child of the people, shackles constrict you. But this injustice cannot continue. If your existence is filled with pain, rather than being a slave, prefer to die. Broadcast to the four winds like an invitation made to dignity and honor are the notes of this magnificent hymn. Of this hymn common to all the downtrodden of the world. Of this hymn that condenses all the bitter martyrdoms of the people, and the anguish of its saints who long for redemption, of this hymn that is simultaneously a complaint, a protest, and a threat. The following day, the proletarians of Mexico City celebrate the triumph of the social revolution. The capitalist system has died.

The end and Like yeah, what a not subtle piece, you know But it's just direct. It's just like this man has fought in this, you know this is several years after the uprising failed and so there's this kind of Like it's almost like fan fiction for your own revolution, like rewriting it in some ways, or rather saying like, this is how it can be reborn and continue to be fought, you know? And it didn't, but it actually could have. That is

a thing that has happened time and time again. I don't know. It's interesting. Yeah, because it's such a blunt piece and doesn't match modern conceptions of how one writes political literature. But there's just something to it, and I want to reread one of the lines. The barricades of San Lorenzo and San Antonio Tomoltan shows upon its summit a singular flag. It is an old petticoat, torn and grimy. It is the flag of misery. It is the brave rag defying the world of oppression and privilege. As long as the tatters are not detached from the proletariat's body, the master remains tranquil. When it appears

attached to the top of a staff, the world trembles." I don't know. I feel like that's where I'm going to leave it. I'll be back next week with more of this stuff. And if you want to hear more about some amazing uprisings that happened in Mexico a little bit later, I'm currently working on a series of really cool people who did cool stuff about the Zapatista uprising and their ongoing work building autonomy in Chiapas that you can check out. Wherever you are, support people building autonomy. And sometimes it's worth being a little cringy in your earnestness about what you believe. Even if I think sometimes

fiction should be written a little more subtly. But whatever. Bye everyone. It could happen here as a production of Cool Zone Media. For more podcasts from Cool Zone Media, visit our website, coolzonemedia.com, or check us out on the iHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen to podcasts. You can find sources for It Could Happen Here, updated monthly, at coolzonemedia.com slash sources. Thanks for listening.

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