2. Dissident Needles

“...Knitting, often perceived to be the exclusive domain of the grandmother sitting lovingly producing soft-coloured baby sweaters, is now just as likely to be a tool of the revolution....”

The enduring recession of textile production previously controlled by post-war agreements came to an end in 2005 with the World Trade Organization’s phasing out of the Multi-Fiber Arrangement (MFA), a document of policy controlling the manufacturing of global textiles (MacDonald 21). As a result of this dissolution, North America and Europe have experienced a severe decline in the textile industry causing the displacement of thousands of workers (generally female) with no point of reentry as a consequence of the retreating industry (Robertson np). One of the most compelling protests to have emerged from this economic situation is the return to the deep-rooted and apparently docile art of craft and knitting. People have taken to the street in the masses to take part in the resurgence of public knitting, which has in turn led to the adoption of this craft by a number of contemporary artists. Artists such as Barb Hunt, Freddie Robins, Lisa Anne Auerbach, and Janet Morton are able to bring prominence to the unhurried process of knitting and its contrast to the fast paced industry that textile production has become. Knitting, often perceived to be the exclusive domain of the grandmother sitting lovingly producing soft-coloured baby sweaters, is now just as likely to be a tool of the revolution (Vallis A2).

The MFA was a multilateral agreement signed in 1974, but its roots stretch back to the 1930s (Audet 5) At that time, Japan emerged as the largest exporter of cotton textiles, and the United States and Europe moved to limit imports from Japan to preserve their domestic markets for their own textile industries. By the 1960s, these limitations had been extended to Hong Kong, Pakistan and India (Audet 5). As the restraints on textile trade were globalized, multiparty negotiations ensued, leading to a series of agreements on an international scale. Initially, these agreement covered only cotton, but eventually expanded into ‘multi-fiber’ arrangements covering textiles and clothing made from all fibers (MacDonald 2). At the heart of the MFA were a set of agreements including developed-country importers, such as the United States, and developing-country exporters, such as China. In other words, the Multi-Fiber Arrangement monitored and limited the trading of textiles between developing nations and the developed nations of the western world. The MFA did not include arrangements to trade textiles between developed countries. Thus, the number of U.S. export restraint agreements grew from a single agreement with Japan in 1962, to agreements with 30 countries by 1972, and with 40 by 1994 (MacDonald 2). Each agreement governed trade in over one hundred different categories of textiles and was adjusted for any market disruptions airing this time (MacDonald 2).

On the surface, the impact of the MFA was quite simple. By limiting imports, the United States and the European Union raised their domestic production of clothing and decreased their textile imports (MacDonald 3). Outside of these two markets, however, the effects were much more complex, as the restraints on one set of countries created opportunities for others. Limits on export opportunities for Taiwan and South Korea, for example, increased opportunities for Thailand and Indonesia (MacDonald 3). Because the MFA did not include every country, on an international scale entrepreneurs from countries limited by the MFA shifted capital and expertise to countries that otherwise lacked the ability to export significant amounts of clothing but were not constrained by the limitations of the Arrangement. (MacDonald 4) In other words, for countries such as Mexico and the United States (under the North American Free Trade Agreement), the attempt to limit global exports actually spurred an increase in exports.

January 1, 2005 marked the end of a ten-year phase out of the Multi-Fiber Arrangement quotas under the guidance of the World Trade Organization (MacDonald 4). This opened the international textile market to national arrangements with the goal of higher profitability. In turn, a crucial change took place at the beginning of 2005, as the United States, Canada, and the European Union discontinued most of their limits on imports of yarn, fabric, and clothing from developing countries (MacDonald 5).

The lesser wages of textile workers played a fundamental role in the export limitations of the MFA. Lower wages in developing countries allows for a lower-priced finished product and higher profitability for the companies involved. Wages in China are one-tenth those in the United States and wages for textiles and clothing workers in India and Bangladesh are half those in China (MacDonald 5). Wages are an important factor in determining competitiveness, but the superior infrastructure and education in developed countries were traditionally able to offset lower wages in order to keep domestic industries competitive in the market. But this advantage has tended to dissipate over time as communication and transportation costs have fallen, and as developing countries have become more integrated into the world economy (MacDonald).

As previously mentioned, the MFA was indirectly protecting the industry of a former U.S. competitor, Taiwan. Contrary to this protection, India’s quota, which reflected India’s competitive standing of at least a decade before, was frozen in time (MacDonald 5). India’s economic policies encouraged a textile industry geared to providing employment to village hand-weavers and providing low-cost cotton cloth to its own population (MacDonald 5). During the period, India’s exports were generally weak, and its MFA quotas often went unfilled. Since the beginning of the 1990s, however, India’s economy has been dramatically reoriented toward exports, including exports of other textile products, making it well positioned to take advantage of the MFA’s phase out. (MacDonald 4) India, once economically stagnant in terms of textiles will now have an opportunity to become a global leader in the textile industry, in direct competition with the textile employees of the United States and European Union.

The long term effects of the elimination of the MFA are harder to predict than the direct short term ones, although longer term structural changes in the global textile industry are assured. The pursuit of profits under the MFA introduced inefficiencies in clothing production, which may require time to eliminate (MacDonald 5). Firms in many developing countries were structured to acquire quota and then maximize the profits from this quota rather than simply to compete in the marketplace (MacDonald 5). Similarly, U.S. and EU importers pursued the excess profits innate to a quota system and, by some measures, succeeded in capturing a significant share (Audet 5). These factors are not easy to assess and add uncertainty to the outlook for the post-MFA world.

In the Unites States and the European Union, a direct effect of the demise of the MFA has been the loss of jobs in the textile industry. As companies within these developed countries continue to outsource their garment production to developing countries with lower wages, the employment of domestic textile workers continues to drop dramatically. This leads to the displacement of a largely female population with a particularly specific skill set. The reentry of these women (generally older workers) into the workforce becomes nearly impossible as the demand for skilled textile employees continues to drop. With no quotas in place for the restriction of imports, companies are free to outsource their production to countries where wages are less than half of what they are in developed nations (MacDonald 6). Arguably, the access to cheap apparel and textiles has had a corollary effect of discouraging the passing on of sewing, knitting and other textile arts as a skill set. Generally speaking, such skills are no longer taught in the home or at school – a result that can be at least partially ascribed to agreements such as the Multi-Fiber Arrangement.

The loss of jobs in developed nations has led to countless protests in defense of these displaced workers, alongside actions against the abuse of globalization and the poor working conditions of producers in foreign countries. An assortment of groups band together at these protests for their various causes such as anti-sweatshop activism, feminists responding to the surbservient domestic roles ascribed to women, radical knitters, and the pro-union activists (trying to keep jobs in North America). Although the portrayal of protest in the media tends to focus on the radical behaviour and rioting of select groups, the majority of protestors tend to be peaceful and message-driven in their cause(s), in spite of the fact that the protest environment is often characterized by teargas and violent clashes between protestors and police (Vanderford 2003, 16). Further, within this overarching group of varied activists there has emerged a new form of protester, characterized by making use of the activity of the deep rooted and docile art of knitting. Group kitting sessions have emerged in these demonstrations as protestors gather and knit, while discussing the political issues of the moment. As various groups engage in these group knits, it is impossible to ignore the setting and environment of these sessions and their direct contrast to the docile and peaceful activity of knitting. Some activist groups have thrived on this contrast and have begun using it as the basis for their message. This begs the question, is it possible that this revival of knitting can assume a completely reversed role to what it once was and become an effective tool of radical protest?

We call upon all people who would see their communities freed from corporate slavery to come forth to share in action dedicated to removing the production of essential goods from the hands of multi-national corporations and returning that production to the people. This is a daily struggle. We shall put this struggle in the faces of the elites by engaging in knit-ins at their places of power throughout the world (Vallis 2007, A2).

The objective of this group to make their own textiles as an anti-capitalist gesture can be seen as a direct response to the conditions leading to the elimination of the MFA. Participants in the Calgary Revolutionary Knitting Circle witness and acknowledge the loss of a domestic skill set and trade within Canada. Corporations have discounted the value of domestic production in order to increase profitability and market share at the cost of many womens’ jobs and livelihoods. Even though the Revolutionary Knitting Circle may not specifically have been aware of the MFA, the reaction to larger economic imperatives that translated into the World Trade Organization-designed MFA suggests a deep link between anti-sweatshop protestors and the larger economic framework resulting in the changing global textile industry. In fact, the Revolutionary Knitting Circle staged one such knit-in outside Calgary's corporate towers during the 2003 G8 summit, held in nearby Kananaskis, Alberta. Grant Neufeld, the group's co-founder, said the craft has helped soften the image of anti-globalization activists and draw attention to their cause (Vallis A2).

Can knitting be truly political? This more recent reinvention of knitting has been less about product and more about performance. And perhaps it is the very performance that is political. For example, it is becoming quite resistant to go out and knit publicly with a variety of politically-motivated groups. For instance, Cast Off: The Knitting Club for Boys and Girls have held knit-ins in a variety of unlikely places including the Circle Line on the London Underground, in the American bar of the Savoy Hotel, and at the Tate Modern. They were summarily ejected from the Savoy even though they were smartly dressed and ordered expensive cocktails. It was feared that the click of needles would annoy other guests (Harrod 45).

Protest knitting reminds the populations of developed countries that this art form is progressively becoming a rarity within society. Not only did the elimination of the MFA remove the industry of textile production from developed countries, it also made the craft nearly obsolete in industrial terms. Along with the production of textiles, the activity of knitting has also been outsourced as it is no longer valued or viewed as a useful skill to develop. Before its revival in protest, knitting or sewing as apparently docile crafts, created in the domestic space, were almost completely transformed into a means of mass production through sweatshop labour or technology. Knitting and sewing of textiles was a lost industry and activity to the populations of developed countries. The use of knitting by protestors in demonstrations has revitalized this art form as a mode for contrasting its docility with the political issues and circumstances of the modern day. In turn, this transformation has extended into the art world, as artists strive to contrast the perceived lack of threat of their production mode with the message of their completed piece.

In an effort to shed light on the abuses of the Nike corporation and their use of sweatshop labour, artist and activist Catherine Mazza has initiated many knitting projects that convey her message. Her most recent effort, in the form of a blanket, was decorated with a Nike 'swoosh' made as a protest against the Oregon-based company's use of sweatshop labour (Gohil B5). Knitters from more than 40 states and 20 countries contributed four-inch crocheted squares for the project. Mazza intends to present the 14-foot-long blanket to Nike's CEO (Gohil B5). To make the 'swoosh,' Mazza used KnitPro, a special software program she designed that lets anyone create a knitting pattern out of a graphic image. For the most part, KnitPro is used to translate corporate trademarks into knitting patterns, which are then knitted to acknowledge the labour behind the goods that most people take for granted. The free distribution of trademarked patterns on her website, is itself a protest against corporations that profit from the designs, Mazza explains (Gohil B5). The software's mission, she says, is to encourage a kind of “subversive knitting” (Gohil B5).  In the case of the Nike blanket, by removing the liability of using such a trademark and reversing it as a form a protest, Mazza makes a strong statement to an industry leader about the company's use of sweatshop labour. It is hard to ignore the effort that goes into each stitch of knitting, and emblazoning the well-known Nike logo on an enormous hand knit blanket forces the company to acknowledge the work and effort put into the product and hopefully reflect on their reimbursement for this skill set.

Mazza has also extended this mode of production into other political messages. On the fourth anniversary of the Iraq war, Mazza launched her latest initiative, Stitch for Senate. She plans to send each U.S. senator a knitted helmet liner, a balaclava-style mask traditionally worn by soldiers to keep warm (Gohil B5).  Stitch for Senate is a new twist on wartime knitting. During the Second World War, as part of the 'Knit for Defense' movement, women knitted a variety of gear for men on the front. This was a pre-MFA era in which the industry of textile production was still prevalent as a developed country industry prior to outsourcing, and was often complemented with personal knitting and sewing done in the home (Gohil B5).  Mazza's inspiration came from Operation Home Front, a group in Illinois that, like the 'Knit for Defense' efforts, knits helmet liners for U.S. troops. Unlike the traditional political messages of written letters and protest posters, Stitch for Senate aims to start a dialogue on the war. “I would like people to be thinking and talking about the war a little more,” Mazza explains (Gohil B5). The knitted helmet liners are also intended to remind politicians to keep the promises they made during the elections to end the war and return U.S. troops home. Senators are then encouraged to send the liners on to soldiers abroad. Protests against the loss of jobs brought about by changes to the international textile industry might thus be reflected in protests such as that organized by Mazza who makes use of personal knitting – the antithesis of sweated labour – to make her argument. Although Mazza uses knitting in a dialogue against sweatshop labour and the elimination of the MFA, she has extended the use of dissident knitting to other political forums.

Knit a River Action, Photo by Kirsty Robertson, 2007

Knitting campaigns are also spreading throughout Europe. WaterAid, a London-based charity, plans to deliver a “knitted river” to the British government as a way of asking officials to promote clean water and sanitation in developing countries. Made up of nearly 45,000 small blue squares, sewn together to resemble a vast knitted river, the final product will be taller than the Empire State Building (Gohil 2007, B5).

Knit a River Action, Photo by Kirsty Robertson, 2007

Another political effort came from a Danish artist Marianne Jorgensen as she stitched a giant pink cozy and placed it over a M24 Chaffee combat tank to protest the Iraq war (Gohil B5). The tank and blanket were exhibited in front of the Nikolaj Contemporary Art Centre in Copenhagen, where volunteers helped sew on additional squares. “The tank is a symbol of stepping over other people's borders,” Jorgensen says. “When it is covered in pink, it becomes completely unarmed and it loses its authority” (Gohil B5).

Jorgensen’s knit tank works as a political piece of art because the expectation that knitting as non-threatening is used to make a point about the violence of war. Thus, artists have taken on efforts to reintroduce the lost art of knitting and domestic craft. Catherine Mazza has organized many group meetings in which participants are taken through each step and taught the basic concepts of knitting (Gohil B5). She hopes the craft will be revitalized through these efforts and by the similar efforts of her peers. Arguably, the conditions that Jorgensen, Mazza and others are others are protesting, were brought into play by an economic system that created, among other things, the MFA. Therefore, it is perhaps not surprising that many artists and activists reacting against these conditions would use a skill set that has been under-appreciated in present day. In my final section, I use this idea to turn to a number of artists who have attempted to reintroduce the lost art of knitting and domestic craft as an act of resistance.

Many artists have reflected the efforts of protestors, in their activist knitting campaigns, and in projects that put the spotlight on the process of knitting itself rather than the end result. This starts a dialogue on the results of the dissemblance of the MFA, as the initiative clearly valued the end result (moreover its cost) over the process of production and the value it brings to a population. Toronto artist Janet Morton, by contrast, works in a way that exemplifies the process of knitting in combination with the end result. Having learned to knit in 1980 as a student in Denmark, Morton began to use wool and yarn as material for her art in the early 90s (Folland 40). “There is something inherently empathetic about wool, about knitting,” she has said. “It doesn't present the same barrier to the viewer as other mediums.” (Folland 40) Morton's art is community-minded not only in scale but also in material (Folland 40).

In Newsflash, one of her early projects, Morton occupied a storefront window on Queen Street West in Toronto for a month. There she sat surrounded by balls of wool, stacks of newspapers and a monitor playing a video called Rocknit. Morton acted as witness to the events of the day, transforming newspaper headlines into hand-knit script that slowly became a large blanket signifying the domesticity of the art form in contrast to the ever changing headlines (Folland 40). The play between the immediacy of news and the time-consuming process of knitting was fundamental part of this exhibit (Folland 40). Morton brings to the foreground the importance of the knitting skill and the respect it deserves as both a skill and also an art form. The perception of familiarity in regards to knitting is directly contrasted to the ever-changing headlines of the national papers and the stories of each article. This process of art permanently intertwines the current political issues of the day with the long-lasting art form of knitting. What emerges in Morton's work is a much larger preoccupation with the current concerns of the public through the topics of the newspaper articles. Further, Morton’s positioning of herself in a store window contributed to Newsflash becoming also a metaphor of the artist and her relationship to public culture (Folland 40).

For Morton's contribution to the 1994 Power Plant show “Naked State” she turned the gallery's long, tall, narrow clerestory hallway into a closet (Folland 2001, 40). Canadian Monument #2, a red plaid work shirt, was suspended with Big, Big Mitt, a oversized blue mitt, and the installations transformed a cold institutional space into a personal experience parallel to one of entering a closet in one’s own dwelling (Folland 40). The textures of the materials in the works were in sharp contrast to the gallery's concrete walls, and the result was a finely tuned play of opposites: gallery and home, art and craft (Folland 40). This exhibit brings to focus the origins of our own closets and the means of production for each item and the trail of production through which each garment has passed on its way through the global textile industry to the personal closet. Within the walls of the gallery the pieces are considered to be artwork, but such a title would rarely be given to the production of similar items in Third World nations. The workmanship and time-consuming efforts of Janet Morton were often reflected upon during her exhibits. The craftsmanship of knitting and textile production is viewed as a relic to the pre-MFA time and Janet Morton directly references this abrupt change in her art pieces. The time-consuming process of knitting on such a scale (Big, Big Mitt for example stretched the height of a two story building) is truly to be marveled at, and the work's tactile quality has an immediate instinctive appeal. In Morton's case, one is drawn into the work (Folland 40).

Using materials once associated with private craft, once referred to as the basis for 'women's' work, Morton reverses the axis of public and private space (Folland 40). She inverts the hard technology associated with contemporary art with an almost antiquated craft; she wants, as she has said, to slow things down (Folland 40). The process of globalization has brought more effort and focus to the number of items produced en-masse rather than the production quality itself. The disbandment of the MFA increased the pressure to expand previous quotas and eradicate the textile industry in developed countries. Morton inverts this argument through the slow process of her knitting and contrasts it with the fast paced industry that textile production has become.

Morton is involved in a process of reclaiming the ordinary with the express intention of leading the viewer into the territory of the extraordinary. “I think that the excess in our society and the constant inundation of things and images make it hard to feel simple,” she writes (The Collectress 5). As a society we have become obsessed with choice and quantities of items. We have lost the simplicity of the past through the production of new technology and faster means of production. Her strategy for creating wonder comes out of her ability to transform the banal into the exceptional (The Collectress 5).

The transformation of utility to the exceptionally appealing is exemplified also in the work of Barb Hunt. Hunt uses knitting to create replicas of anti-personnel land mines. In various shades of pink wool, Hunt combines irony with the ritual act of knitting, using a traditionally feminine textile skill as a way of coping with grief and loss. The repetitive and peaceful nature of her work serves as a metaphor for protection and healing (Hunt np). After visiting an anti-landmine demonstration in Paris in 1998, Hunt was alarmed by the immense prevalence of such weapons and was moved by attempts to eradicate mines from the world. Inspired, she began knitting replicas, cataloguing the astounding variety and proliferation of land mines around the globe (Hunt np). Again we see an artist transforming their work into a corresponding protest effort and public statement. Hunt’s work differs in that the end result portrays the message more than the process of knitting itself. The removal of need for skilled knitters and textile crafters has left many women, similar to Hunt, looking for others modes of expression through their knitting.

Freddie Robins is another artist that initially started in the clothing production industry and was directly affected by changes to the textile industry. She believes that group knitting, previously a private activity, is akin to “showing your knickers in public” (Farrelly 18). In the private environment of a home, knitting is viewed as a calming and docile activity. But once placed into the public arena and areas of protest, it becomes shocking and dissident. Educated as a knitter, and a graduate of the Royal College of Art in London, England, Robins uses her skills to make objects and installations exhibited in galleries and the art environment. Asked to define knitting she leaves it wide open, describing it as “taking a single fiber and making it into something” (Farrelly 18). In her work Peggy (2005), Robins knit a single glove with only three fingers as well as the detached portion of where the finger would normally be placed. Peggy was an irregular clothing item with no utility. This is in direct contrast to the current state of the textile and clothing industry on an international scale where, as mentioned, items are no longer selected for quality but for the lower production cost. The art and quality of the final product has been lost since the maximization of quotas is attainable in a post MFA world. The pure focus on textiles at an industrial level is to create a finished wearable product that can be exchanged for money. Through completion of un-wearable and unusable products Robins has opened a dialogue on the means of production in the textile industry.

In 2005, radical knitter Lisa Anne Auerbach began the Body Count Mittens project to memorialize the escalating numbers of American soldiers killed in the Iraq war. “Some of us knit faster than others,” Auerbach explains in the pattern instructions, “and this too will be reflected in the finished pair, since the date on the mittens is the date each one was started.” The date is followed with the number of soldiers killed by that day. “It’s morose to wear mittens emblazoned with these statistics,” notes Auerbach, “but recognizing realities is necessary if we expect the world to change” (Polgreen 41). This once again is the production of an item that many would not wear or buy due to the morbid facts on each pair. In opposition to the objective of globalization control of the product is returned to artist, while a supposedly non-political activity is used to make a political statement. Auerbach also posted the pattern and instructions for download on her online blog, in similar form to that of Catherine Mazza.

Auerbach’s work radiates anti-war dialogue as she too plays on the contrast of the peaceful art form and the message it carries in her work.  Another example is the red and olive-green sweater, reading “Praise the LORD and pass the Ammunition” in swervy letters bordered by tiny machine guns. The sleeves sport little designs that look like explosions. “The pattern is adapted from a Swedish fisherman's sweater from 1898, which I found a photograph of in a book,” Auerbach writes. “I like the simplicity of the style. Very basic” (Polgreen 41). Auerbach mirrors the past styles in the design of her clothing in contrast to the newer mass produced styles of the modern era. She combines the style of sweaters from the 1800s with the old production form of knitting to form a state of irony through the message.

The MFA left the developed nations of the world in a removed state from the production of textiles. Once international competitors in an equal market, developing countries are now quickly becoming the sole producers of textiles for the entire world. The lower wages paid in the developing nations were previously offset by the higher social structure and education base of the developed nations. But this advantage has tended to erode over time as communication and transportation costs have fallen, and developing countries have become more integrated into the world economy. The elimination of the MFA allowed profit hungry companies to seek the lowest cost of production available in the market, which meant a vast majority of production was outsourced to foreign countries. Many employees in developed countries, generally women, were left without a job or a position in the workforce to utilize their skill set. Through the removal of their labour force productivity purposes, came the utilization of differing modes of expression, using the skills of the textile industry. Concurrently, in the West, women began to knit at protest rallies against the constant force of globalization and the trend of outsourcing. The emergence of this radical form of protest has helped soften the image of anti-globalization activists and draw attention to their cause. People have taken to the street in the masses for this resurgence in public knitting and it has led to the adoption of this craft by modern day artists. The influence of the phasing out of the MFA started the movements of group knits, which transferred into the art world. Works are now being created through knitting to signify the corrupt changes brought on by the demise of the MFA. Although this means of production is far from new, the way in which its process is being utilized has had profound changes to the art world and to the environment of political art.

Works Cited

Armstrong, Liz. “The Crafty Protester.” Reader (2004), p. 8.

Audet, Denis. “Smooth as silk? A first look at the post MFA Textiles andCclothing landscape.” Journal of International Economic Law 10 (2007), p. 267.

Audet, D., Safadi, R., & Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development. A New World Map in Textiles and Clothing. Paris: Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development, 2004.

Farrelly, Liz. “KNITTING: Spin a yarn.” Design Week (2005), p. 18. 

Folland, Tom. “Knitting Public Art: Janet Morton Knits her Art and Brings Welcome Warmth to Contemporary Art Making.” Canadian Art 18.1 (2001), p. 40. 

Gohil, Neha Singh. “Protesters knitting together.” Edmonton Journal (2007, March 18): B10. 

Harrod, Tanya. “Subversive Needles.” The Spectator 29.9215 (2005), pp. 44-45.

Hunt, Barb. “Barb Hunt: antipersonnel - A Fiber Installation”  Art Gallery of Ontario. Toronto:
http://www.absolutearts.com/artsnews/2001/10/24/29278.html

MacDonald, Stephen. “The World Bids Farewell to the Multi-Fiber Arrangement.” Amber Waves. 4.1 (2006), pp. 1-20.

Polgreen, Erin. “Art Space.” In These Times. (2007), pp. 31-41.

Robertson, Kirsty. “Tangled and Warped: Contemporary Craft and Protest.” In Extra/Ordinary: Craft Culture and Contemporary Art. Maria Elena Buszek, ed. Durham: Duke University Press (forthcoming 2008).

The Collectress. Border Crossings 19.1 (2000), p. 5. 

Underhill, G. R. D. Industrial Crisis and the Open Economy: Politics, Global Trade, and the Textile Industry in the Advanced Economies. Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire: Macmillan, 1998.

Vallis, Mary. “Changing the world one stitch at a time.” National Post (2007): A2. 

Vanderford, Audrey. “Ya Basta! A Mountain of Bodies that Advances Seeking the Least Harm Possible to Itself.” In Representing Resistence: Media. Civil Disobedience, and the Global Justice Movement. Eds. Andy Opel and Donnalyn Pompper. London and Westport CN: Preager, 2003, pp. 16-26.

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