Origins and History
In the late 1990s and throughout the first decade of the 21st century, the Internet enabled the rise of large free software communities. Freely and voluntarily, thousands of people from all over the world organized to create, improve, and maintain software programs that they made available to anyone who wanted to use, develop, improve, study, or commercialize them.
These became the new “universal digital commons,” which were soon followed by similar communities for the purposes of documentation, hardware, machinery, and even medical equipment. The possibility to further the development of any project down an alternative path (“to fork”), which was open to anyone with the necessary skills, led to two very pioneering outcomes at the time: a logic of belonging determined almost exclusively by individual contribution, and a governance system based on consensus—sustained by continuous deliberation and a strong sense of collective responsibility.
These became the new “universal digital commons,” which were soon followed by similar communities for the purposes of documentation, hardware, machinery, and even medical equipment. The possibility to further the development of any project down an alternative path (“to fork”), which was open to anyone with the necessary skills, led to two very pioneering outcomes at the time: a logic of belonging determined almost exclusively by individual contribution, and a governance system based on consensus—sustained by continuous deliberation and a strong sense of collective responsibility.
In the early 2000s, the first worker cooperatives emerged around the universal digital commons. They participated in a wide range of free knowledge projects and generated income by offering consulting, implementation, customization, and training services.
These were work communities that saw knowledge development as the result of collective labor, with the social goal of creating abundance for the “larger community”—simultaneously decommodifying knowledge and valuing the labor behind it. They went against the grain in a business world increasingly focused on monopolies built through patents and restrictions, and within an economy that steadily devalued human labor and its contribution to social knowledge.
These were work communities that saw knowledge development as the result of collective labor, with the social goal of creating abundance for the “larger community”—simultaneously decommodifying knowledge and valuing the labor behind it. They went against the grain in a business world increasingly focused on monopolies built through patents and restrictions, and within an economy that steadily devalued human labor and its contribution to social knowledge.
By the end of the first decade of the century, a chain regression was sparked. The web—the first major distributed and nearly universal communication medium—was centralized by increasingly monopolistic Big Tech companies (Google, Amazon, Facebook...) that encouraged and monetized social division while feeding the data infrastructures that would later fuel the AI boom. From 2009 onward, the financial crisis devalued labor and knowledge, pushing both older and newer generations towards greater precarity.
Since Brexit in 2017, a desperate and destructive “every man for himself” logic reshaped the cultural climate. The universality of human values and needs was characterised by the new waves of identity politics as a thing of the past. A new global framework of nationalism and militarism revived the spectre of war. Big cities became more precarious, while the population of rural areas was aging and decreasing, in the face of ultra-intensive—and anti-ecological—production models, seas of solar panels, and a devaluation of labor so extreme it often fell outside of legal frameworks.
Since Brexit in 2017, a desperate and destructive “every man for himself” logic reshaped the cultural climate. The universality of human values and needs was characterised by the new waves of identity politics as a thing of the past. A new global framework of nationalism and militarism revived the spectre of war. Big cities became more precarious, while the population of rural areas was aging and decreasing, in the face of ultra-intensive—and anti-ecological—production models, seas of solar panels, and a devaluation of labor so extreme it often fell outside of legal frameworks.
Meanwhile, official cooperative organizations—which had long marginalized worker cooperatives—perpetuate a discourse reducing cooperativism to a mere “legal form” within a nebulous “social economy.” But the term “social economy” is ambiguous and often empty. It lumps together associated labor, aid initiatives, corporate philanthropy, and “value-based” marketing, further obscuring the centrality of labor, its communitarian significance, and the historic opportunity to build abundance through universal commons.
This regression also affected national worker cooperative federations that were still existing as distinct entities. They soon embraced the “legal form” narrative and emphasized “fiscal advantages” as if those were defining features of the model. It wasn’t surprising, since these organizations—and their flagship cooperatives—had long been compromised by a managerialist ideology that separated governance from labor and delegated the administration of the commons to “professionals of command.” In practice, these managers financialized major industrial worker cooperatives, indebting or bankrupting them, and pushed internationalization models that shifted most labor to low-wage countries—without ever making those workers members.
Eventually, it had to be acknowledged that Europe’s official cooperative organizations had become yet another vector in the devaluation of labor. The proof: when advising Portugal on its new cooperative law or the European Parliament on the statute for European-level cooperatives, the resulting legal frameworks erased the recognition of worker cooperatives as a distinct type—making them invisible in law and treated in the same way as business, consumer, or property cooperatives.
This regression also affected national worker cooperative federations that were still existing as distinct entities. They soon embraced the “legal form” narrative and emphasized “fiscal advantages” as if those were defining features of the model. It wasn’t surprising, since these organizations—and their flagship cooperatives—had long been compromised by a managerialist ideology that separated governance from labor and delegated the administration of the commons to “professionals of command.” In practice, these managers financialized major industrial worker cooperatives, indebting or bankrupting them, and pushed internationalization models that shifted most labor to low-wage countries—without ever making those workers members.
Eventually, it had to be acknowledged that Europe’s official cooperative organizations had become yet another vector in the devaluation of labor. The proof: when advising Portugal on its new cooperative law or the European Parliament on the statute for European-level cooperatives, the resulting legal frameworks erased the recognition of worker cooperatives as a distinct type—making them invisible in law and treated in the same way as business, consumer, or property cooperatives.
In response, especially from 2010 onward, a new wave of worker cooperatives took shape in both Europe and the U.S. Instead of blurring the boundaries of worker cooperativism, these cooperatives sought to maximize its social impact and clarify its principles.
This new wave firmly rejected the neutralism of official cooperativism, affirmed new spaces, and opened up fresh priorities for debate, while simultaneously reaffirming the need to “return to the roots” of worker cooperativism.
From this climate emerged maximalist cooperativism: international from its inception and grounded in a new set of Maximalist cooperative principles.
This new wave firmly rejected the neutralism of official cooperativism, affirmed new spaces, and opened up fresh priorities for debate, while simultaneously reaffirming the need to “return to the roots” of worker cooperativism.
From this climate emerged maximalist cooperativism: international from its inception and grounded in a new set of Maximalist cooperative principles.
The maximalist principles define a cooperative as a work community built around a commons of knowledge and resources, where individuals, the group, and the surrounding society are never means to an end—but rather ends in themselves. For that reason, membership is defined by one’s contribution to the community. Governance is based on consensus. Remuneration is equal but adjusted to each member’s particular needs.
Externally, the principles aim to maximize the cooperative’s impact on the well-being of the broader community around it. They renounce profit distribution among members and reject, whether through patents or monopolies, imposing scarcity as a way of generating income.
Finally, they reject all “neutralism” in the face of the era’s great challenges: the devaluation of labor, the spread of war, territorial fractures and depopulation, and environmental destruction.
Externally, the principles aim to maximize the cooperative’s impact on the well-being of the broader community around it. They renounce profit distribution among members and reject, whether through patents or monopolies, imposing scarcity as a way of generating income.
Finally, they reject all “neutralism” in the face of the era’s great challenges: the devaluation of labor, the spread of war, territorial fractures and depopulation, and environmental destruction.
Maximalists want to promote and expand a cooperative and productive way of living—where the development of each individual drives the development of the community as a whole.
This vision, rooted in the understanding of ourselves as a work community, extends to all our interactions with the world. Through it, we aim to restore awareness of the centrality of labor in the towns and communities we work with, and help them become more productive, egalitarian, sovereign, and resilient—and above all, better equipped to support good lives.
This goal means embracing knowledge and technology, while remaining aware that all technology shapes a particular architecture of power. That’s why free technology and open knowledge form the core of our toolbox. We aim to increase scope (the variety of things that can be made with available tools) while reducing scale (the size needed to produce efficiently). We take seriously the challenge of generating research projects, collective ventures, and jobs that move in this direction.
We believe that the starting point for the positive changes ahead lies today in the peripheries: in rural areas, in free knowledge, in small businesses and worker cooperatives, in community movements trying to revitalize demographically declining regions, and in places we haven’t yet thought to look. That’s why we do all we can to give them visibility, tools, and support—strengthening them through cooperation.
In short: Maximalists want to contribute towards a new way of living and making society.
This vision, rooted in the understanding of ourselves as a work community, extends to all our interactions with the world. Through it, we aim to restore awareness of the centrality of labor in the towns and communities we work with, and help them become more productive, egalitarian, sovereign, and resilient—and above all, better equipped to support good lives.
This goal means embracing knowledge and technology, while remaining aware that all technology shapes a particular architecture of power. That’s why free technology and open knowledge form the core of our toolbox. We aim to increase scope (the variety of things that can be made with available tools) while reducing scale (the size needed to produce efficiently). We take seriously the challenge of generating research projects, collective ventures, and jobs that move in this direction.
We believe that the starting point for the positive changes ahead lies today in the peripheries: in rural areas, in free knowledge, in small businesses and worker cooperatives, in community movements trying to revitalize demographically declining regions, and in places we haven’t yet thought to look. That’s why we do all we can to give them visibility, tools, and support—strengthening them through cooperation.
In short: Maximalists want to contribute towards a new way of living and making society.
As the devaluation of labor became the dominant feature of the economy—reflected in the culture and values portrayed in the media—a global movement took off in Europe and North America. We call it the “conquest of labor,” and it is the result of a combination of conditions characteristic of our era and a new quest on the part of hundreds of thousands of workers and young people.
As the devaluation of labor became the dominant feature of the economy—reflected in the culture and values portrayed in the media—a global movement took off in Europe and North America. We call it the “conquest of labor,” and it is the result of a combination of conditions characteristic of our era and a new quest on the part of hundreds of thousands of workers and young people.
On the one hand, large capital funds are becoming less and less interested in the real productive economy. Sustainable businesses, generally small and medium-sized enterprises, no longer appeal to them. They seek monopolies, and that implies scale. The reason is simple: when you have hundreds of millions to invest and want to participate in management, if the number of places you invest in exceeds a certain threshold, your management costs skyrocket.
The result: thousands of profitable and sustainable companies whose owners want to retire or capitalize are unable to find buyers. Nor are the factories and facilities that large multinationals decide to abandon for tariff or geopolitical reasons. And even less so those that could be profitable but are not.
In these cases, and in the context of widespread deindustrialization that is emptying territories, workers are finding support from local governments and liquidation courts to buy the companies where they work. These are the famous WBOs (Workers Buy Outs). In Europe, WBOs turn traditional companies into worker cooperatives. In the Anglo-Saxon world, they become EOTs, trusts collectively owned by the workers.
On the other hand, technological development has reduced the optimal scale of production—and therefore of capital—in more and more fields. This is especially true in some industrial sectors and advanced services because the optimal reduction in scale is proportional to the intensity of knowledge required in the processes. Result: More and more young people throughout Mediterranean Europe are giving up waiting for job opportunities that never seem to come and are choosing to “conquer work” by forming worker cooperatives.
In France, Italy, Great Britain, and the United Kingdom, the companies in crisis purchased by WBO are mostly located in formerly industrial regions that are now experiencing productive desertification, hence the enthusiasm of local institutions. The vast majority of new worker cooperatives in Spain, France, and the United States are being created in medium-sized and small cities that have been left out of the major global economic circuits.
That is why local development leaders in regions such as Andalusia and Occitania speak of a “silent revolution.” The fact is that where matters almost as much as who, because in major civilizational crises, it is not the center that generates alternatives, but the peripheries.
In a small corner of this great landscape of our times, we maximalists are experiencing a moment of flourishing. Our social impact is growing, and the new tools we have created for this purpose, such as the Repopulation Foundation, have very quickly become fully operational.
We believe we are on the right track, although we are not immune to error. Our doors are open.
As the devaluation of labor became the dominant feature of the economy—reflected in the culture and values portrayed in the media—a global movement took off in Europe and North America. We call it the “conquest of labor,” and it is the result of a combination of conditions characteristic of our era and a new quest on the part of hundreds of thousands of workers and young people.
On the one hand, large capital funds are becoming less and less interested in the real productive economy. Sustainable businesses, generally small and medium-sized enterprises, no longer appeal to them. They seek monopolies, and that implies scale. The reason is simple: when you have hundreds of millions to invest and want to participate in management, if the number of places you invest in exceeds a certain threshold, your management costs skyrocket.
The result: thousands of profitable and sustainable companies whose owners want to retire or capitalize are unable to find buyers. Nor are the factories and facilities that large multinationals decide to abandon for tariff or geopolitical reasons. And even less so those that could be profitable but are not.
In these cases, and in the context of widespread deindustrialization that is emptying territories, workers are finding support from local governments and liquidation courts to buy the companies where they work. These are the famous WBOs (Workers Buy Outs). In Europe, WBOs turn traditional companies into worker cooperatives. In the Anglo-Saxon world, they become EOTs, trusts collectively owned by the workers.
On the other hand, technological development has reduced the optimal scale of production—and therefore of capital—in more and more fields. This is especially true in some industrial sectors and advanced services because the optimal reduction in scale is proportional to the intensity of knowledge required in the processes. Result: More and more young people throughout Mediterranean Europe are giving up waiting for job opportunities that never seem to come and are choosing to “conquer work” by forming worker cooperatives.
In France, Italy, Great Britain, and the United Kingdom, the companies in crisis purchased by WBO are mostly located in formerly industrial regions that are now experiencing productive desertification, hence the enthusiasm of local institutions. The vast majority of new worker cooperatives in Spain, France, and the United States are being created in medium-sized and small cities that have been left out of the major global economic circuits.
That is why local development leaders in regions such as Andalusia and Occitania speak of a “silent revolution.” The fact is that where matters almost as much as who, because in major civilizational crises, it is not the center that generates alternatives, but the peripheries.
In a small corner of this great landscape of our times, we maximalists are experiencing a moment of flourishing. Our social impact is growing, and the new tools we have created for this purpose, such as the Repopulation Foundation, have very quickly become fully operational.
We believe we are on the right track, although we are not immune to error. Our doors are open.