'The Take': Labor Revolt in Argentina

Stephen Hunter, Washington Post

Someone who actually, you know, knows something will have to
issue a policy statement on the politics of "The Take," a
radical Canadian documentary that celebrates what could be
called, equally, an act of liberation or an act of theft.

Purely from an artistic point of view it's a well-made,
straightforward (from the leftist vantage point) examination
of an Argentine phenomenon that could have meanings beyond
Argentina. The filmmakers, Avi Lewis and Naomi Klein, lay
their cards on the table in the opening second by sweeping
across a vista of shuttered factories and saying, "Welcome to
the globalized ghost town."Their story, and they're sticking to it, is that the economic
policies of Argentina's president Carlos Menem (his term ran
from 1989 to 1999) caused the country's economic collapse and
that, furthermore, these were policies that obeyed mandates
of the International Monetary Fund. I can't balance a
checkbook, how could I comment on that?

What the filmmakers were looking for was something beyond
demonstrations (which they'd attended and found ultimately
pointless); they were looking for alternative challenges to
conventional capitalist structures. That's what they found in
Argentina: Many of the displaced workers spontaneously (or so
it seemed) occupied their locked factories and began to
produce goods. Everybody at, say, the Zanon ceramics factory
thought this was a terrific idea, except of course Mr. Zanon,
who was somewhat peeved.

"It is my factory," he explains to Lewis and Klein in a
pleasant, conversational tone. "I built it, I put money into
it."

Well, you closed it, they don't say but clearly mean,
suggesting that the law of private property (guaranteed in
Argentina's constitution) should be put aside and that these
matters ought to be decided on a strict use-it-or-lose-it
basis.

The film then tracks two narratives: the struggle of the
workers at Zanon and other occupied factories to retain
possession and operation of the appropriated plants, and a
hotly contested election in which Menem attempts to regain
control, while opposed by a left-wing candidate named Nestor
Kirchner in the 2003 election. It is understood that if Menem
wins, the workers lose, and the two Canadians do a good job
evoking the passions of this tightly contested campaign.

While the politics are fierce and the issues bitter, one of
the most inspiring things about both stories in "The Take" is
that neither ended in lethal violence, guerrilla war,
assassination, slaughter, carnage and all those more typical
outcomes. Other than a labor riot, these events unfolded with
a good deal of civility and belief in the structures of
government. The workers don't set fire to things, they lobby
the legislature.

"The Take" is another in the seeming glut of left-wing
documentaries pouring onto screens this year, but what marks
it as unique is its cheerful honesty and faith in the
goodwill of men. It never smirks or condescends as does, say,
a Michael Moore; it never seems smug and superior, only
committed and compassionate.

The Take (87 minutes) is not rated and contains scenes of
labor violence