Unique in Canada -- at least in terms of scale -- the A-Zone hosts a wide range of progressive businesses, activist organizations, and media outlets. Photo: David Ball

‘F*** the B.I.Z.’

The graffiti emblazoned near the brick entrance to 91 Albert Street — aimed at Winnipeg’s Business Improvement Zone security patrols, with their police-like powers — is revealing in terms of what’s inside; in this rare case, you can judge a bookstore by its cover.

In fact, the activists behind the Old Market Autonomous Zone were once targeted by a city councillor for their refusal to remove graffiti. This anti-capitalist building is truly unique.

In the heart of Winnipeg’s rapidly developing downtown core, the Autonomous Zone — or A-Zone for short — has been a hub for radical organizing for 16 years and sees itself as providing an example of alternatives to capitalism. This summer, its tenants finally came together to register as a cooperative and buy the three-storey heritage building.

Unique in Canada — at least in terms of scale — the A-Zone hosts a wide range of progressive businesses, activist organizations, and media outlets. Mondragon Bookstore and Coffeehouse — a renowned worker-owned vegan restaurant, radical bookstore and grocery store — lives on the ground floor. A bike courier and repair cooperative has space in the basement and second floors. That floor also hosts the Junto radical lending library, Winnipeg Copwatch, FemRev feminist collective, Canadian Dimension magazine, G7 Welcoming Committee Records and an edible landscaping worker co-op. Climb another flight of stairs, and an event venue offers a space for fundraisers, dance parties, radical speakers and fringe festival plays.

“It’s been amazing to have an actual physical location,” said Sarah Fox, a member of the newly established tenant cooperative at 91 Albert Street, and also a member of Winnipeg Copwatch, one of the organizations based out of the A-Zone. “Not only to have your bike fixed, enjoy a meal, attend an event or find a radical book — but also to have a space for your groups to meet, and an office to rent for well below market value.”

“It’s really facilitated a sense of community. People are more likely to work together.”

Co-founded in 1995 by anarchist organizers Sandra Drosdowech and Paul Burrows, the A-Zone was envisioned as a place that might help transcend divisions within the Left, and offer subsidized rents so that groups and businesses might flourish in a more stable environment.

“It seemed important to have a space where like-minded collectives and organizations could all get together under one roof,” Burrows told rabble.ca. “People could build a network and share resources to save money.

“Pick a city, really — radical groups can face eviction for not-stated political reasons. If they run into problems with the landlord or business groups they can be kicked out of their space. Controlling your own space is crucial. It doesn’t solve all the problems, but people now have 16 years of history to reflect on its benefits to the activist community.”

Such an eviction happened this summer to Vancouver’s 12th-and-Clark anarchist centre, which was forced to close because of zoning requirements. And while there are countless collectively run projects across Canada, few own their own space. One thing most have in common, though, is a commitment to spreading alternative ideas and building a movement for social change.

“Usually it’s based around the distribution of radical materials,” explains Guillaume!, an anarchist in Montreal. In 2007, he traveled across Canada, painting radical spaces he visited. “They all try to lend their space for organizing — to be a hub for organizing in their city.”

“Sometimes an anarchist choir is singing at the same time as a meeting. It creates space for groups to meet each other and realize they’re not alone in their struggles.”

Today, Guillaume! is involved with a cooperatively owned anarchist library in Montreal — Association des espèces d’espaces libres et imaginaires (Guillaume! chuckles as he mockingly interprets the 1970s-era name into English: “They want to create a type of space in people’s minds for people to be free.”).

In Halifax, the Roberts Street Social Centre hosts Canada’s largest zine (independent publication) library, Anchor Archives, a silk-screening facility, artist studios, and a photocopier for activists. In Vancouver, Spartacus Books has for decades served up radical literature and brought together several generations of organizers. Saskatoon’s Turning the Tide bookstore is another example.

There are numerous experiments, but Guillaume! credits Winnipeg’s A-Zone as a “leading model in Canada” for alternative radical institutions, and said that finally owning the building is a big step towards further independence and democracy.

“Anarchists in Montreal pay thousands of dollars to landlords. The places we do own, we wait a long time to repair. The building might collapse (laughs), but at least we can be our own slumlords.”

Jokes aside, owning property raises a whole raft of challenges which most activist organizations never have to contend with, from paying taxes to jumping through bureaucratic loopholes.

Burrows recalls his experience being hauled into court several years ago over fire-code violations. He described navigating the regulations as a “kafka-esque experience” — running from one city department to another with contradictory instructions, and being ordered to get permits that other offices would not provide.

Another challenge concerns the ongoing gentrification of the surrounding neighbourhood — driving low-income renters out as upscale businesses move in and raise property values. Members of the tenant collective acknowledge this problem, but there are no simple answers.

“We were part of the gentrification process and continue to be,” Fox told rabble.ca. 

“We’ve always tried to do our part to fight it. Everyone in the building is in solidarity with homeless people who live in this neighbourhood. Our space has become a bit of a hangout because we don’t kick people out for sitting on our steps having a beer or panhandling — we think it’s an acceptable thing for poor people to do.”

“Realistically, though, it’s mostly a white middle-class clientele using the space. It’s frustrating and complicated — but we hope our solidarity and support for street-affected people in the area counteracts gentrification,” Fox adds.

Of course, one major issue stands at the forefront for the A-Zone tenant cooperative: money. The co-op’s mortgage is $560,000. It is securing a credit union loan, but a major fundraising effort has set out to raise a down payment and funds for maintenance and back-taxes. Currently, the group is offering up a square-foot of space for each $20 donation. (Its Facebook page filled quickly with jokes about using the symbolic purchase to start morally incompatible projects such as factory farms).

“The A-Zone is the hub of activism in Winnipeg,” Fox said. “It’s also a hub for worker co-op organizing in Winnipeg.”

“I’ve never been to other cities that have one central place to organize. I believe it’s really made our activist community stronger. I’ve heard from older organizers that it substantially changed the face of organizing in Winnipeg in a positive way.”

“The fact it’s survived this long — which seems almost an impossibility in this day and age – is a sign of its success. I would seriously recommend it as a model for other cities.”

David P. Ball is a freelance writer in Vancouver, B.C., on Coast Salish territories and blogs for rabble.ca. He previously lived in Winnipeg for three years. His website can be found here.