Re-visiones #6

GUEST RESEARCHES

The Gleaners and I

Adelita Husni-Bey in conversation with Ana Méndez de Andes and Emilio Santiago Muíño.

Ed. Pablo Martínez (imaginarrar@gmail.com)1

Museu d’Art Contemporani de Barcelona


ADELITA HUSNI-BEY: For this chapter I looked at how law might function as a hypothetical construct, specifically in relation to housing. What kinds of actions call private property into question? How does law function symbolically (beyond the State’s capacity to enforce it) and conversely how does analysing law as a construct build a capacity to undo its symbolic power or reclaim it. ‘Rules’ are everywhere, but they are specifically coded as laws only through a consensus that guarantees their enforcement and legitimacy. So how does that legitimacy get undone or unmade into a different imaginary?

I invited you both to be part of this conversation because of your extensive experience in the formal and informal aspects of law making. You are both part of the municipality in some capacity. Ana you are an advisor to the city council in Madrid and Emilio you are working within the local municipality in Móstoles, but you both come from an activist background. My first question, but maybe it was more of a little exercise, was to ask you to draw a diagram about law making, at the municipal or State level. Should we talk through it? Who wants to start? Maybe you, Emilio, would you describe your diagram?

EMILIO SANTIAGO MUÍÑO: I used two colours in the diagram: blue to outline the development of a law in accordance with the Spanish Constitution, and black for factors that have an influence on and determine how existing laws are implemented. In Spain, formal initiatives for creating new legislation can come from three sources: the government; the houses of parliament—Congress and Senate; or ILPs (popular legislative initiatives), which have to obtain at least half a million signatures to be taken into consideration by parliament. The process starts in Congress, with countless procedures, commissions, amendments... Then has to pass through the Senate, which is, like all senates, an upper ‘container’ designed
to prevent processes of social reform from going through too quickly. If the Senate gives its go-ahead, the proposal becomes law. If it does not give approval, the law returns to Congress and Congress has to debate again, but it can then pass with a simple majority.

These channels supposedly derive from the sovereignty of the people—a problematic concept which I have put in inverted commas in the diagram—whether by means of elections (choosing the houses of parliament which then form the government), or by means of social movements that can gather momentum behind an ILP. But then you come up against a number of pitfalls or variables that you have to overcome. First and foremost is funding: if the government doesn’t set aside enough funding to implement a law, it’s not worth the paper it’s written on. Equally crucial is the effect of mass media on how certain political aspirations of the social body are con- formed. In this regard, economic pressure groups impact directly on governments and indirectly—through the mass media they influence—on the sovereignty of the people. They might even interfere in elections by funding certain parties, though I have drawn this with a dotted line because in theory this is not supposed to happen, but in practice it does occur.

Then you’d have to introduce other key variables: the sovereignty of the people is built and conditioned by ideological constellations that encode what I call ‘patterns of good living’ and political expectations. And then you’d also have to add another critical factor: the structural determinations that condition the development of social systems. Societies do not exist in a vacuum. There are socio-ecological realities that determine the playing field.

Besides this ‘metabolic’ dimension I have noted two other structural determinations that constitute modern society: the tautological accumulation of capital and the self-replicating quality of the technological system. I have introduced these in order to avoid personifying capitalism, because capitalism is not just a programme deployed by the elite, but a kind of fetishistic device, almost like a sleep-walker, it has an unconscious structural dimension. More specifically, the modern State cannot fight against the accumulation of capital. It is an imposition that emerges from the depths of our forms of socialization and not from the desire of capitalists to accumulate wealth. And one last observation, the legislative action of social movements is not limited to ILPs. You can have an impact on the implementation of a law, by refusing to obey it, or by means of campaigns to stop its enforcement.

ANA MÉNDEZ DE ANDES: This diagram looks great to me. But I would like to introduce a couple of issues: the first is that from your diagram one could infer that the sovereignty of the people is expressed (over
and above elections) through social movements. There are however other social agents that have a big impact, not necessarily on the sovereignty of the people in the sense of ‘the great mass of people who feel this way’, but that come from highly specific, concrete minorities, not necessarily movements, and that apply pressure in a...

EMILIO: ...a certain direction.

ANA: On the other hand, in your diagram the connection between ‘sovereignty of the people’ and ‘elections’ outweighs the line leading to social agents entirely. In other words, the line you draw between the sovereignty of the people and elections should be much thicker.

EMILIO: True, it should be much thicker. [He thickens the line with the marker.]

ANA: Because the Nation-State has declared that ever since... let’s see, was it Leviathan by Hobbes...

EMILIO: Or maybe since Locke.

ANA: Ever since Locke it has claimed that there exists such a thing as the sovereignty of the people, and that it can
be represented by an element such as the State—see your thickening of the relationship between elections and sovereignty—and that is misleading. All elections have a tendency to end with a leader exclaiming ‘I am the sovereign will of the people!’. That’s why I believe it is interesting to include expressions of citizenship that are not usually included whenever we are talking about ‘social movements’. The sovereignty of the people is often interpreted as some kind of ideal image, as a unified, legible, coherent and articulate spirit, when it is, in fact, more like a conflictive magma in permanent tension. Having said that, it is very interesting to see how, despite these asymmetries and reductionisms, the action of social movements is able to curb certain laws, like what happened here with the proposed amendment to the law on abortion2. What I mean to say is that there are spaces outside the established procedures in which, even after the government has legislated, in the midst of the Congress-Senate-Congress process, social action can make the government withdraw a law entirely.

EMILIO: It’s true. You are right. That’s a line you’d have to add. Absolutely.

ANA: A line that breaks the chain of events as you have described them [pointing to the diagram], because it puts pressure on the government. Because the government has the power to withdraw a law before it is passed.

EMILIO: Maybe these actions by social movements could be included within a bigger box. The magma we call ‘civil society’, to use the problematic liberal concept, could fit in that box and include everything: from football supporters or pro-bull fighting groups to ILPs and groups such as PAH (Platform for People Affected by Mortgages).

ANA: That’s true, there are pressure groups we would never call ‘social movements’ but which nevertheless exist, and they do organize ILPs and mobilize people.

EMILIO: Generically speaking, yes, they could be part of that box. Another thing altogether is the fact that we don’t like them, because we have co-opted the term ‘social movement’ for ourselves, on the left.

ADELITA: Yes, it feels like all of these ramifications pertain to the imaginary of law making. See, we begin with a pretty simple, almost utilitarian idea of how law functions and we end up with a multitude of agents that actually affect its pathway deeply. What about you Ana, what did you draw?

ANA: Well, I think my legislation diagram is fairly boring; it’s very detailed and it is extremely linear. It describes the administrative process of drawing up and approving, for instance, a Sectorial Council, or an ordinance. It is critical to bear in mind that, although I haven’t included them in my diagram, each one of these steps, approvals or reports are guided and regulated by some higher document which determines who has the authority to make the ordinance, what type of information should be included in the reports, justifications, and so forth.

In this specific case, firstly, a preliminary project is drawn up, which must be approved by the SGT (Technical Secretary-General) of the specific department in question, who prepares a legal report and a proposed agreement that is then sent to three central services departments for them to draw up their own reports. Based on these three reports the preliminary project is revised to accommodate any objections that may have been raised and then the draft regulation is prepared, with an initial proposal which is signed by the councillor in charge of that area and it is then brought before the governing board. The governing board then prepares a draft approval and this is brought before another entity, the citizenry, by means of a public announcement.

In my diagram I have included the element of ‘citizenry’, although it isn’t actually contemplated by the city council or its regulations. All that the regulations specify is that there has to be a ‘public approval’. Thirty days after being published in the city council’s and regional government’s official bulletins, the Secretary of the Governing Board prepares a report with any allegations brought forward by this entity (again, the citizenry—absent in the city council’s process), and then the final draft is prepared with which the governing board makes a board agreement. If after thirty days there are no further allegations, the governing board approves the project and then there is an ‘official application to the plenary meeting’. These official applications are addressed to the Extraordinary and Permanent Committees, in which all political parties are represented, and they can introduce amendments. The regulation proposal then returns to the plenary meeting where more amendments can be introduced and where it is finally approved.

In this whole process there are two things that strike me as being particularly interesting: the first is its absolute linearity. There is only one moment when more than one step takes place at the same time; that is when the three areas of Territorial Coordination, the Directorate-General of Organization and the Directorate-General of Legal Advice release their reports at the same time. But all three do so from their respective positions, when you would think that the logical thing to do would be to sit down together and negotiate. There is tremendous resistance within public administration to create spaces for collective decision making. The public institutions of the Nation-State are hierarchical, binary and segmenting, and this is true not only with regards to society, but also internally, in the State, because it separates and segments jurisdictions, signing responsibilities, the ability to make decisions, and so on.

The other interesting thing is that only official applications from within the administration itself are taken into consideration as constitutive of the process. As I said earlier, the citizenry does not really exist because the only thing that matters is the administrative action of issuing the public announcement. This has to do with a third aspect which I also believe to be crucial, and that is that nobody says anything about the actual processes: whether there really ought to be a preliminary project for the ordinance to make sense, or how the public announcement should be publicized, or how amendments should be dealt with. In other words, these things don’t seem to matter, nobody looks into the workings of regulations: nobody looks at the actual process. The key moments here all refer to administrative procedures. Which is to say, the moment when the institution says ‘OK’ to the legislative text. The content of the text obviously must fulfil some minimum requirements, but the process that leads to the text is never really questioned.

ADELITA: I am also really interested in the notion of ‘reform’. As in, how does reform happen within and outside an institution. How are these processes different? Because reform within an institution follows processes such as the ones we’ve just described, streamlined, hierarchical, bureaucratic. These processes go on to produce material changes in the way citizens and non-citizens—as defined by the State—experience living under the State, but what about those pro- cesses that produce reform, not necessarily legislative reform, but reform as in the capacity for alteration?

ANA: I can answer your question through what happened in Spain recently. How recent developments and movements broke open the classical opposition between reform and revolution, by changing the dichotomous axes around which reality is judged. Normally, in politics, there is a dividing line between left and right, which in Spain is actualized through the two-party system, PSOE (Spanish Socialist Party) vs PP (Conservative Party), yet suddenly the 15-M movement drew a different line [draws line on diagram] that divided the 1% from
the 99%. And then Podemos came along and drew another axis that divided the field into ‘new politics’ and ‘old politics’3. But we could introduce yet another axis in the diagram, an axis that strikes me as absolutely critical, which throws us into the fifth dimension [laughs]. This axis would separate politics understood as a zero-sum game, in which the field of power is constant and you gain power by taking it away from someone else (which is what happens in the electoral arena, winning votes by taking them from others) from political strategies that do not view power as a zero-sum game. The Reform vs Revolution axis would be something like this [draws].

To me, the best existing example of this, of breaking away from the opposition between reform and revolution is PAH, as it simultaneously carries out different actions that contradict this dichotomy. On the one
hand, PAH organized an ILP advocating an overhaul of
the Mortgage Law. It lost the ILP, but it would have liked to have pushed through with the reform. On the other hand, it carries out peaceful civil disobedience, which is more of a 15M-type action. It squats apartments and places people in housing through the anti-eviction campaign ‘Obra Social’, which is something that is...

EMILIO: Revolutionary.

ANA: Revolutionary in the sense that initiatives like ‘Obra Social’ perform illegal acts that question private property. What this means is that you don’t have to opt for one thing over the other, reform over revolution or vice-versa. It is not a question of promoting an ILP and having those who squat going ‘Why are you organizing an ILP?’ Likewise, when houses are being squatted, those in favour of civil disobedience don’t blurt: ‘Hey! What the hell are you up to?’ They are actions that take place at the same time and each one of them does its bit to bring into crisis the way in which the whole cycle of accumulation of capital is understood and what the role of civil society is with it. For this reason, I believe that focusing on the dichotomy between reform and revolution is more in tune with a critique coming from many of our comrades when they say: ‘You are focusing on administration and not politics.’ When producing an ordinance, you are not being a ‘revolutionary’, technically, but there is nothing more ideological than an ordinance.

EMILIO: Of course.

ANA: An ordinance defines who has access to what, the bureaucratic process, how we determine who has the right to the resources being made available. There is nothing more political than that. In other words, administration is absolutely ideological and political.

EMILIO: I’m mostly in agreement with what Ana is saying, but I would add that not only are we witnessing the blurring of this classic debate, that has existed ever since the Second International, but we have accumulated enough historical experience to tell
us that the debate is false. Throughout the twentieth century, there have been no reformist processes with real effects that haven’t relied on the complementary threat of the exercise of force, which could be classified as revolutionary force. For instance, you can’t explain the process of social reform in post-war Europe without the geopolitical threat of the USSR. And, at once, any revolutionary process, even the most radical ones, given the obligation to cohabit a world that it cannot challenge in its entirety, ends up adopting a tone that one could call reformist: saturated with the logic of negotiation and concessions. So, in the end, revolution/reform is ultimately a dichotomy that, in practice, has been overcome.

ADELITA: In this sense, I wanted to talk to you about some research I conducted in Marinaleda, a town in Andalucia. I was drawn in particular to the town’s implementation of a Uruguayan scheme called ‘autoconstrucción’ [‘self build’], and how this plan, deployed in concert with the regional government, had radically restructured the way Marinaleda’s inhabitants had access to public housing. In some ways, for me, it also produced a radically different imaginary around property and use-value, which I’d like to describe...

All residents of Marinaleda have access to the ‘autoconstrucción’ scheme, with eligibility determined by certain prerequisites such as low income. The successful applicant is offered a plot of land, construction material and a group of waged workers to help, ranging from builders to architects. If they are willing and have the ability and time, applicants are encouraged to join in the actual building-process. The houses all have a standard shape and size. The one I visited had a large back yard, two bedrooms, a dining room, a lounge and two bathrooms. It was inhabited by a woman and her son.

Once work is complete, the applicant is allocated one of the units built in that period, meaning that the house they worked on might not be the house they end up inhabiting. I suppose this is to ensure quality throughout the system. Once allocated a unit they can slightly alter it, by adding an extra room or changing the interior partitions. Rent is 15 euros a month, which goes to repay the material and workforce deployed by the regional government. The debt is soon met, after which they can pass the housing down to a relative upon death, but never really ‘own’ the property outright. Once it’s vacated the property gets recycled through the system. By the time I had arrived, in 2014, around 50 houses had been built this way.

Marinaleda residents hold general assemblies where municipal budget allocations are discussed. They take decisions through a ‘senate’ composed of inhabitants and the ‘grupo acción’ [action group] on a neighbourhood level. They have opted out of having a police force, and run municipal courses that go from farming to radical queer theory. At the time of my visit there were 33 co-operatives operating, the largest and oldest being El Humoso, whose workers—belonging
to the Sindicato de Obreros
de Campo [Field Workers Union]—in 1983 occupied the former private land and buildings that now house the co-op. El Humoso practices a work-for-all policy which guarantees labour for co-op members and seasonal workers, all receiving the same wage—hitting 1200 euros in high season, well above the national average for farm work. Of course, Marinaleda is a small town (2800 people), and I have no intention of romanticising or calling upon the revival of a soviet style, rural, collectivist utopia. Our interviews also showed us the underbelly of the experiment…

Yet to me the radicality of this imaginary is what throws the intertwining of ‘Reform and Revolution’ in motion, to find mutual space for each other, despite the conservative, hetero-patriarchal and racist current sweeping national governments at large. Maybe the concrete construction of these imaginaries through the conduit of legislation has become a way to weaponize law.

In 2016, when I took the ‘Convention on the Use of Space’, from the second chapter of this project, to Spain, you were both part of the meetings that gave rise to the current chapter. While the Convention is an imperfect document, which can both be seen as a radical legislative tool with the ambition to set up a para-legal system or a writing exercise in law, it tried to question notions of property starting with a breakdown of housing as a commodity, and an attempt to reclaim a use value over exchange value. As a staunch materialist [laughs], how did you interpret this process?

EMILIO: The key is to understand that a commodity has a use value and a value expressed as an exchange value (though the two terms are not comparable), which is not a ‘natural’ legal enactment per se. It is a spontaneous emanation from capitalist civil conditions. It is a result of its frame of socialization, which, as I suggested earlier, is not an exact, planned political project, but a pattern that configures subjects and forces them to interrelate in a certain way. I think it would be interesting to view this under the light of the experiences of Real socialism. Here, despite having the political will to overcome capitalism, and with all the power of the State in its hands, the basic social categories of ‘real capitalist abstraction’ and its pernicious effects were still reproduced: value, abstract work, commodities and money. And this happens because these basic categories are on such a scale that the politics of the modern Nation-State cannot or does not know how to operate without them. In addition, there is another even more complex under- lying problem: the exclusive character of work, what ultimately creates the schizoid structure of value and use-value, is not a phenomenon that has to do exclusively with the private ownership of the means of production, as Marx posited. Hinkelammert made a critique of Marx which I believe is germane because it underscores that this exclusive character has a more basic cause, which is ontological and not historical: ‘the impossibility of omniscience’4. The fragmentation of your perceptions means that, in processes of social coordination, unconscious fetishist structures are imposed, like those that underpin the commodity and its twofold reality. For this reason, even in Real socialism the phenomenas of competition and black markets persist, and therefore value—though officially its companies were entities which organized the social division of work co-operatively and supposedly from the standpoint of the primacy of wealth or use-value. This brings us to the big question: How can work be coordinated in complex societies? Can it be done without markets? Can it be done with markets and without capitalism? Can capitalism function any other way?

Because the classic anthropological argument of the existence of societies without markets and without accumulation of capital is false: they were radically different societies in which people subsisted largely as a result of community autarchy and working the land. This does not mean that we cannot rehearse a whole series of transformations that, put simply, enable the logic of specific needs like housing to come before the logic of the accumulation of capital—not that this is anything new—the whole development of modernism is based on these kind of wave-like movements: the development of commodities and their logic, followed by the intervention of the political sphere to correct the disaster. We are caught in this game. But it is not a pendulum, it is not an eternal return: the accumulation of problems and contradictions constantly creates new scenarios. And today, both for ecological reasons as well as the limits of capital’s capacity to reproduce itself profitably, we can no longer fantasize with the idea of recovering the regulating mechanisms of the glorious thirties.

With respect to the idea that the ‘neoliberal order has made private ownership sacred’, I believe that the neoliberal order has exacerbated it in relation, above all, to Keynesian regulation, which continues to hegemonize our idea of ‘the good old times’. But the sanctification of private ownership as a basic principle was already there with Locke. It undergirds our civil substratum. I believe that at the current moment there is a cultural margin in which we can create a project of majorities to intervene against the supposed self-regulation of the market, which is clearly disastrous. What I mean to say is that there are political possibilities for a post-neoliberal project. Going any further is a lot more complicated. People can accept as obvious that we, as a society, cannot allow people to go without housing. But to go from that sentiment to attacking the principle of private ownership is to leap across a huge gap.

ANA: To my way of thinking, the mistake lies in accepting the association between the right to use and ownership as natural. This should be the first thing up for discussion, because it is intrinsically problematic. Personally, I really like the work of Rosa Congost, a historian from Girona whose field is the study of the transformation of the concept of ownership from the Ancien Régime to modernism. She relates how the ideal of ownership was built during the French Revolution and how our idea of modernism and the republican values of liberty, equality and fraternity are intrinsically bound to the concept of absolute ownership in comparison to the Ancien Régime and its superimposition of rights5.

EMILIO: The Republic itself is understood as the social crystallization of the principle of ownership.

ANA: If we return to commons theory we will be able to see the relationship between the establishment of perfect ownership and neoliberal forms of segregation, and how what the neoliberal state does is to increasingly fix and restrict any kind of attribution of rights and in all spheres of life. When Peter Linebaugh spoke of the commons in his book The Magna Carta Manifesto6, and how they were reflected in the ‘Charter of the Forest’, he was talking about these attributions. Or we can look at Agnès Varda’s film The Gleaners and I, which deals with the right to glean from fields neglected by their owners. Even the Spanish Constitution recognizes the right to ownership, but it also recognizes its social function. People would probably panic if you were to question private ownership as such, but if you then propose that space which is empty and unused should be used, it becomes a much easier concept to understand.

The other day I read an article that said the authorship of 90% of the work of intellectuals is unknown and, even if you knew the authors, you wouldn’t be able to pay them. This is very interesting because it demonstrates how capitalism doesn’t manage to extract surplus value from absolutely everything. It doesn’t manage to establish a cycle of accumulation of capital that is sufficiently intense, everywhere and at all times—it manages to apply it everywhere, but not intensely enough. When copyright laws are enacted, in fact, they extract value from a minimum percentage of the total capacity. And this is another of the spaces in which we could question ownership, on the basis of that ownership not being exercised. In Holland, until the law changed, if a building was empty for a year it could be squatted. In other words, private ownership could not be left without a social use. Although probably this was not owing to an anarchist vision of life but to a delirious sense of productivism: ‘Gentlemen, you must produce!’

EMILIO: ‘There are things that are not being put to work!’

ADELITA: [laughing] Yes, it’s almost as if with a right of use one would also have to include the right to exist within a space but not necessarily render it ‘productive’.

ANA: ‘There are things that are not being put to work. Put them to work otherwise someone will come along and take them over. Come on, step to it!’… In any case, I think it is crucial to under- score the idea that what we have to demand is not ownership but management. The traditional commons (like those in the ‘Charter of the Forest’) were not based on ownership.

EMILIO: But I wouldn’t overlook historically-specific factors, such as the fact that the impossibility of creating a sufficiently intense cycle of accumulation of capital is driving the processes of privatization we are currently seeing. It is not just a question of demanding use, but of understanding use within a framework of a much wider conflict, one which we still do not have a clear idea how to win. When you look from a distance at all the processes of change which have emerged over recent years in Spain, and at the same time you realize the unstoppable advance of the logics of privatization and the accumulation of capital (which is floundering but still needs to throw more fuel on the fire of the process of increasing value), it makes your head spin.

ANA: It’s one thing to draw a precise analysis of everything that can go wrong, but I prefer to analyse the positive aspects and examples that illustrate that it is possible to do something. Let’s return to PAH: a movement that is able to transform people who were unable to pay their mortgage and were evicted into outstanding political agents, into incredible social agents by means of celebrating every little victory, by saying ‘we have won this’ and demonstrating that it is possible. This power of celebrating victories does manage to have an impact and I believe that it has a big impact on the production of social meaning.

EMILIO: That’s true, but PAH has its limitations. In Móstoles there must be about 3000 empty housing units, but with all PAH’s work it has only managed to occupy La Dignidad, a building for 18 people. So, there are times when I believe that we cling onto PAH as if we’re clutching at straws. Unfortunately, the housing problem in Móstoles will not be resolved with massive occupations
of housing, but by means of legislation. And furthermore, on a municipal level, this currently has very few possibilities of passing. At the end of the day this is a fight against private banks here in Spain. And that cannot be resolved by a town council alone, but must be addressed at a national level.

ANA: Of course; I often remind people that, as of the current moment, PAH has stopped 2000 evictions and has rehoused 2500 people. But in the same period of time there have been, I’m not exactly sure of the numbers, somewhere between 700,000 and 1,000,000 evictions. This is a difficult mountain to climb with activism alone, but I truly believe—and this is a historic problem—that the melancholia of the left means that people spend most of the time complaining about how bad everything is. Returning to the idea of revolution and reform, the incredible potential of revolution is that it produces energy and the conviction that things can change, that things can be transformed, that change can be effected and things can be done differently. This is absolutely crucial. We need regulations, tools, the power and the will to have an impact on the material conditions of life in order to transform it.


[1] Extracto de la publicación: Adelita Husni-Bey. White Paper: On Land, Law and The Imaginary, Ed. Antonia Alampi, Binna Choi, Jens Maier-Rothe y Pablo Martínez, Publicado por Beirut, Casco-Office for Art, Design and Theory, CA2M Centro de Arte Dos de Mayo y Valiz, 2016.

[2] In 2014 the Spanish conservative party (Partido Popular) attempted to reform the law on abortion. Mariano Rajoy, who was president at the time, and had initially supported the reform, was forced to withdraw the proposal due to social pressure and the broad mobilization of civil society. The reform had been drafted by the Minister of Justice rather than by the Minister of Social Affairs and criminalized abortion under any circumstance, rewinding the clock on governmental control over women’s bodies to Francisco Franco’s military Regime.

[3] The left-wing party Podemos was founded in 2014. Building on the popularity of the 15-M movement, it changed the tone of Spanish politics and introduced new vocabulary to the political arena.

[4] Franz J. Hinkelammert and Henry Mora Jiménez, Hacia una economía para la vida [Towards an economy for life], La Habana: Filosofía@ and Caminos, 2014. See: https://dialnet.unirioja.es/descarga/articulo/3318458.pdf

[5] Rosa Congost, Campos cerrados, debates abiertos: análisis histórico de la propiedad en Europa (siglos XVI–XIX) [Closed fields, open debates: Historical analysis and land ownership in Europe (XVI–XIX centuries)], Pamplona: Universidad Pública de Navarra, 2007.

[6] ‘The Magna Carta Manifesto’ (1215) which gave rise to concepts such as the habeas corpus, due process of law, and the abolition of torture was accompanied by a scarcely known ‘Charter of the Forest’, which protected the subsistence of the poor. Peter Linebaugh describes these documents citing primary sources in the volume The Magna Carta Manifesto: Liberties and Commons for All, Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press, 2009.

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