A Journal of Unruliness

Moldwarp (noun):

1. a European mole (Talpa europea)
2. a stupid or shiftless person

Talpidae

Contrary to popular belief, moles are not rodents, they are talpids; animals with many features adapted to life underground. Some of these features include a slick coat of fur that can be brushed any which way, a nose that functions as both a sensor of olfactory and tactile stimuli, internal ears that are great at detecting the most minute vibration in the soil, large front paws that splay outwards which allow them to practically swim through the soil, etc. According to The Mole Tunnel,

Most moles, as commonly recognized and known to the general public, are solitary animals that spend most of their life underground… Regardless of habit, all species construct two basic types of tunnel: deep, more permanent tunnels, and shallow surface runways. Differences in the extent and nature of these tunnels occur between most species. However, all mole species prefer moist soils where burrowing is easy… The diet [of moles] is highly variable among species, but in general earthworms, insects, and other invertebrates compose the majority of [it]. However, vegetation is known to comprise a small portion of the diet in most species. Presumably due to the enormous costs of excavating their numerous tunnel galleries, most moles are reported to have a voracious appetite. In fact, one star-nosed mole was noted to consume 1850 earthworms, three mice, one frog and two large grubs in 14 days![1]

All mole food is sought after and caught by digging through, disrupting the soil; so, since moles are always hungry, their presence can be quite alarming to those who claim “rightful” ownership of said soil.

The Moldwarp

In their restless activity of worm consumption and tunnel production, this animal warps the soil they dig through, throwing encountered earth behind them. In this activity, they leave heaps of loose dirt upon clearing out their tunnels and burrowing into the ground. Therefore, it should come as no surprise that the ancient dialectical British term used to refer to them is moldwarp[2] (coming from the Old English molde and the Old English weorpan), literally meaning earth-thrower.

The contemptible moldwarp is the Human’s ruin, the digger of Its grave. They are a critter capable of destroying the sacred fixity of Its lawn. To It, the moldwarp is a useless usurper; it is precisely their hills that positions the moldwarp as so, these mounds of mud are sacrilege amid the Human’s greensward. They throw the terrain about as they dig, and in doing so the moldwarp misappropriates the Human’s lawn; this usurpation of the lawn, this dethroning of the Human, takes place because of the moldwarp’s hunger and not because of any spite for the Human. They will proudly play lawn proprietor if they are worm-hungry and are worm-hungry always. The moldwarp digs in search of worms, new territory, or a mate; they dig to conduce to their (gastrointestinal, territorial, sexual, etc.) hunger. No activity exhibited by the moldwarp is done with malice; fuck, the moldwarp is blind to the lawn and its sanctity, blind to the Human – seeing at best ghostly gray forms! All activity exhibited by them occurs with ravenous whimsy, with caprice.

As hungry as the moldwarp is, they are not a glutton. Most other mammals are not entirely fossorial, and so do not deal with the sheer amount of energy spent in the process of burrowing through soil; this energy cost is met by a daily intake of their own body weight in worms. This searching for, and trapping of, worms by tunneling is what ravages the Human’s yard; all the displaced dirt must go somewhere, hence the moldwarp’s hills. The moldwarp ravages, not as an end, but as a means; they ravage only to eat, destroy only to consume. The process of tunneling constructs hills, while it simultaneously destructs the lawn. So, the dirt the moldwarp displaces bares immediate significance to the Human; it taints the grass upon the monster’s arrival. However, all this tainting is done because it is easiest for the moldwarp and within the moldwarp’s interest; because lawn soil is soft and moist. The soil dug up and thrown onto the Human’s (supposedly “private”) property, in the moldwarp’s activity, serves as a reminder to the Human of Its inability to stagnate Its lawn – and therefore of the moldwarp’s ability to disrupt this stagnative process. The moldwarp, unlike many other garden critters, can disrupt this process; most others can unintentionally only do minor damage to the Human’s lawn. This the Human cannot tolerate. It cannot afford to give up any power over Its lawn, any influence over the uniformity of Its green – and is in fact afraid to, as it would be a loss of Itself; so, It decides to confront the power of the moldwarp, directly.

The Human, in all Its frustration, attempts to remove Its lawn from the moldwarp’s bound of interest. Whether by stomping down every new hill, or placing noisy deterrents in the ground, or killing all the worms in the area, etc., the Human ensures the moldwarp does not desire what the lawn promises. However, if this doesn’t do the job the Human ostracizes them from Its yard. It traps them (usually with no regard for their health) and then relocates them far away from anything familiar. Lastly, only if this isn’t resorted to at the sight of the first hill, the Human will simply slaughter them.

How ironic it then is that the moldwarp’s common name – mole – is also the English term for a contemptible skin-spot, a discolored skin-spot. Dark spots serve no functional or aesthetic purpose for the Human’s skin, whereas dirt mounds serve no functional or aesthetic purpose for the Human’s lawn. So, the moldwarp’s hills are to the Human and Its lawn what lentigos are to the Human and Its skin: dark, alien, surface-devouring marks. It should then also come as no surprise that the moldwarp’s common name also refers to a spy, or an intruder, in an organized body – such as a lawn. So, it isn’t just that the moldwarp is an other, as the Human encourages some alien critters to approach Its greensward, but that the moldwarp is dangerously shiftless. They serve no purpose for the lawn or its aesthetic, no lawn purpose, and instead serve only themself; making them not the lawn’s own nor the Human’s own. The moldwarp is as alien to the ruled and ordered lawn as it is to them; the latter because it is fixed against them. The moldwarp’s activity is almost always running – or better, tunneling – counter to the Human’s ideal of the perfect lawn, counter to Its ideal of the good lawn creature. The moldwarp both enters and exits the Human’s lawn counter to it, counter to lawn purpose; they both enter and exit as criminal.

The Human acts empathetically towards many sighted, soulful animals. The Human is kinder to animals that bare more of a resemblance to It, to animals with distinguishable eyes – a result of face pareidolia not Its “good” nature. So, having eyes that are both smaller than their nostrils and only visible from up close, the moldwarp to the Human is a grotesque and faceless creature. To It the moldwarp has no discernible profile; there is nothing the moldwarp is immediately recognized as, aesthetically or functionally. The saying “the eyes are the windows to the soul” corroborates this; it means that many aspects of an individual’s inner character, their mind or spirit, can be perceived more through their eyes than through their other organs. A corollary is then that the moldwarp is soulless to the sighted Human. The moldwarp, to the Human, has no inner character, no mind, no spirit to be profiled and assigned duty; they mindlessly construct and destruct without aspiration towards a lawn purpose, they do so according to their voracious caprice, their ravaging whimsy. So, despite all the effort that devouring worms and building tunnels entails, the moldwarp is considered dumb and lazy, a stupid idler.

This destructive activity performed in blackness, this activity of consumption and production performed by the moldwarp, the Human does not consider work. Activity in darkness, hidden from the Human’s gaze, is not – and does not – work towards the bright and beautiful lawn, is not work for the Human’s shining ideal. Laborious activity for the moldwarp’s own sake is never work for the Human, because it takes from the Human; to It, theft cannot be work. The moldwarp’s activity devours and misappropriates Its yard. But more than that: the product of their activity – the moldwarp’s tunnels – are inherent disruptions of the yard; the tunnels do not exist as present soil but as absent soil, they are the negative space produced by digging. The moldwarp resides within disruption upon disruption of the lawn; but, more than criminal to it, they themself are a negation of the lawn and its fixity. The moldwarp, in being against the glistening lawn ideal, can be nothing but lawn idle; that is, antiwork.

Though the moldwarp proudly negates the lawn, they are seemingly quite a coward too. With eyes highly sensitive to light, and ears to noise, they cower at the first noticed beam, at the first sensed vibration. The Human may cast judgement upon the moldwarp’s timidness; but their might has no shadow cast over it by their cowardice, and vis a versa, as both conduce to the moldwarp’s ownness. The moldwarp cowers at the light because this signals to them that they are visible to birds (or foxes, etc.), they flee at the slightest vibrations only because they signal nearby predators; they cower because being exposed is not in their interest. The moldwarp deals with the lawn according to their egoistic, own interest; not according to the altruistic, other ideal of the Human.

The lawn is entirely defined by its fixity or stagnancy, for if it were not fixed or stagnant, it would be a complex, constantly changing ecosystem with multiple species of grass and higher biodiversity. So, for the moldwarp to at all tunnel counter to this fixity, to displace soil and destroy the Human’s ideally uniform lawn, is to establish itself as a proud and contemptible criminal. Despite their lawn criminality, however, the moldwarp is immensely beneficial to the soil, as they aerate it in the process of tunneling; it is only that the Human does not care for the potential of a healthy biome, and instead solely for Its obsessive desire to stagnate things. The Human cares only to categorize neatly, to fix things according to alien standards, to bask in the “privacy” of Its property as “private” tyrant, to play critter-police.

Again, however, this lawn-worship the Human exhibits, and the associated hatred for moldwarp, is nothing to them. The moldwarp, as with most other things, is no witness to this contempt of the Human; the moldwarp hasn’t a clue that the lawn is a sacred space to the Human, it is nothing to them. The only aspects of the Human that elicit the attention of the moldwarp’s keen nose and ears are Its attempts to banish or annihilate them and the heavy thuds It produces as It passes. The moldwarp – to the Human – is a contemptible idler; a lazy lawn-robber; a mindless surface-devourer; a whimsically ravenous creature; a heap-leaving eater of xenoi; an earth-throwing, gnarly beast of darkness; a usurper. Although seemingly fettering, the moldwarp is proud to be described this way; they find each term quite laudable! Warping Stirner’s words, the moldwarp self-describes as

… an abyss of lawless and unregulated impulses, desires, wishes, passions, a chaos [with no] guiding light or star,[4]

but their nose[5]. The moldwarp’s usurpation of Its lawn enrages the Human; oh, how the Human’s hatred practically froths from Its jowls! There was once a prophecy written around the year 1312 that shows this:

The sixth [English] king after John would be the Mouldwarp or Mole, who would be proud, contemptible and cowardly, having a skin like a goat. He would be attacked by a dragon, a wolf from the west and a lion from Ireland, who would drive him from the land, leaving him only an island in the sea, where he would pass his life in great sorrow and strife and die by drowning.[6]

Does this prophecy not demonstrate what the moldwarp is to the Human? Could it be any more obvious how much the moldwarp ruins the Human? Fuck! There exists this prophecy reifying the moldwarp and even then, it is full of ill speak. The Human wants the moldwarp gone, isolated from It because It cannot appropriate them, fix them for Itself, even if this means killing the moldwarp. After all Its futile attempts to rid Itself of the moldwarp, the Human floods their tunnels and hopes the moldwarp “dies by drowning” or at least lives “in great strife and sorrow”. What the Human does not know, however, is that despite Its attempts to exert power over the moldwarp by means of flood, their enormous front paws and slick coat make them excellent swimmers.

The Human asks the moldwarp, with a pained expression, “Why won’t you leave?”. The Human cannot understand what the moldwarp exists for, what Cause they have based their affair on. No such Cause exists, however, and so the moldwarp responds:

… With all the strength I have, I will create my life and my activities as my own without any regard for authority… or regarding it only as my enemy.[7]

Notes

1. Although the term is generally used to describe Talpa europea, in this text it will be employed to refer to any species of talpid. Also, it is usually spelled mouldwarp – but, fuck it.

2. The Mole Tunnel, General Biology.

3. “Scientists believe moles are [completely] colorblind and nearsighted, but that their eyes are exceptionally good at detecting light.” (National Geographic).

4. Stirner, The Unique and Its Property.

5. Condylura cristata’s star is both one of the most effective tactile sensory organs and hunting apparatuses in the entire animal kingdom; they can identify and devour food faster than perceptible to the naked eye.

6. Wikipedia, Mouldwarp.

7. Landstreicher, Willful Disobedience, p. 15

 

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Contribution by Herschell Orror

We all yearn for things to be easy. It is not intrinsically wrong to have this sense in us. But it is wrong on a scale that eludes perfect reason to play a part in instituting a particular kind of ease exclusively for those who are welcome in certain groups by the perceived traits of their body, their person or of their material wealth. Indeed, it is the bleakest sin most uplifted in the divided society that we presently inhabit; our affairs are marked by our bowed heads to all the owning class and their police, to all the simple universal truths we grew up with, oppressing and smothering our ability to grow as parcels of the cosmos. Our lives have not been at ease. Quite the contrary, for the simplest language to humanity has been force. Effective, effortless to some compared to compassion, mechanically persistent – with basic human drawbacks, and profound in the sense of it being the only result to come out of dissent waged for the most urgent needs of lifetimes.

The sin I write of is one which has extinguished without pause the beautiful lights of so many innocents. It is the sin that has corrupted and stolen the humanity from the very bones of those that steer the authority they represent. They were once infants, children whose souls and intellects were canvases to the forces around them. And now they are our oppressors rather than our fellows.

Perhaps most of us take the “easy path”, for weariness, for carelessness, for a need to be done and through with something. To some, it was simply “easy” to become an oppressor and get paid for it. It was simply “easy” to call the trans woman “a man”. It was simply “easy” to call the police on the black family enjoying a party. There are many avenues of an immediate, disposable ease that hands itself over to tension once again. There are only easy patches to complex problems and passionate undertakings to produce a profound, general ease.

We want to run away from the hard things, even when they are clearly important. We want them to vanish, get better. It never, ever gets better without intervention on the obvious pillars of error.

There must be a clear differentiation between a general ease and an exclusive ease. The sense of “ease” brought about in the white lynch mobs (of what some consider yesteryear) in the aftermath of their horrid doings is not the ease which the abolitionists preached of. There is an ease in privilege, and there is an ease in freedom. And freedom, for all its timely invocation and interpretation, has been said to be the watch-word for the intentions of all the allegedly “free” societies of the world. But like all mere words, they are prone to failing the reality of the matter. “Freedom for who?” A question is posed. “For All Men,” the ancient answer. “But who are All Men?”

The centuries-old words and artifacts of a nation’s founding are the material that weaves a mythology, originating out of a formerly existent conundrum of contradictions and blunt truths at the heart of the real undertaking disguised by flags, founding documents and fanfare anthems. What better way to inaugurate the surrender of all one’s self than with color, with music, with parades, with cinematic showings of the Dear Leader? Who would feel pride in answering a call to the gray feudalism of yesteryear when one has the tricolors of the new republic before them?

But beneath that layer, penetrated by some years bound up in the mythology – seeing the contradictions, reading the obscured admissions – the young patriot, the young nationalist, the young fascist finds that he has turned on his entire family, on the whole of his species in favor of the dominant race of the nation, in favor of the condensed tribe that cannot even see all of him when he is speaking to them. He has pulled the ground out from under him, thinking the levitation of his zeal is enough to hold him. He thinks his master cares about him and all his complaints and betrayed passions; he thinks he cares about his starving family, his dying mother, his wayward children. But the Dear Leader only writhes in the nonsense of his own troubles, repeating slightly modified renditions of his decades-old shtick. The Dear Leader is for himself, and no one else.

Then he does not care altogether. He simply snaps, decides to kill people or march with swastikas in the streets. For fear, for confusion masquerading as certainty, for a sense of a noble embrace of the Good Movement. The movement for pride in being the majority. The movement for the glory of whiteness. The movement to enshrine all colonial and confederate history as the Amerikanische Kultur. The movement to firmly make borders real, deport or exterminate migrants, queer people, people of color and enslave all women to patriarchy. While this tension persists within the normalcy of the republic, the average person is expected to remain neutral, blind to everything insightful and firmly fixed on one’s job or the leisure needed to recover from it. Nothing more.

“All Men,” those accepted by the social majority into a society’s exclusive “humanity”, those not considered “deviants” of some sphere of caste, are allowed to pursue and develop themselves in accordance with the reproduction of the society. It is officially called “the pursuit of happiness”, and plays out as one’s own customized subservience to the state affording this tainted promise. Happiness may be said to be one’s right, but it is never secured by the conditions imposed by the society. It is never actually sustained by anything healthy originating from inside the walls. And any divergent need to be met is always “just too much” for the society or its legions to tolerate.

We each eventually come to such a stiff odds posed to us from the institutions, from the popular media, from prevailing attitudes, that to conceive of ourselves as part of this whole system of systems is no longer thinkable. The absurd repetitions and rinsing and repeating of historical crises engender such hopelessness and self-destruction, such resignation and loss of direction, that only one notion screams out: Abolition.

To abolish is not solely to make outlawed or undone by state decree or force of new authority, but to begin to live without or live in passive destruction of a concept that generates real-life suffering. To abolish is to create new conditions that go against a prevailing item of social and political consequence – or it is to abolish “conditions” altogether. But abolition cannot be done without direction, without knowing the focus of such determination. Abolition is informed by the many ills of its enemy and by the many passions of those yearning to be free. Abolition studies the behaviors of the enemy in order to subvert the regular functions of their society. Abolition knows that its intention is right because so very much is wrong.

Free access, free personal development, free association, free and equal respect. These are to be the common facets of the common society – or there will only be the chaotic depths of the authoritarian wilderness. Of persistent, stagnated hate put into motion by the state and the profiteers it serves, all at the expense of every person beneath them, until most of everyone on Earth has died for nothing truly special or even slightly significant.

We are pursuing abolition in the spirit of those who attacked the slavery of African descended peoples on this stolen land, we are pursuing abolition for total black, queer and working class liberation in our lifetimes, but are also aiming to abolish the extended suite of coercion that generated those struggles and innumerable other struggles before and since. We are abolishing the exclusive, violent permission to strangle people of their very existences. We are abolishing this to establish the common society, the capacity to live healthy lives.

The new abolitionist movement-to-be, the various associations united around freedom in all spheres codified in our species, is one of several understandings: (0) As well-read revolutionaries here in Appalachia have commonly said, “Don’t start no shit, and there won’t be any.” This cannot be overstated as the highest ethical principle. (1) The official brand of “freedom” touted by all the states on Earth has not been freedom, and is in truth a slightly permissive slavery. (2) All the official schools of opposition to this warped facade of freedom all have at least one lesson to take from. (3) All individuals have dignity, power, imagination, unique aspirations and – not simply self-direction or self-determination or autonomy, but self-definition.

Self-definition is the assertion arising from oneself – of oneself. It is the fact of an individual that only they can wholly know and confirm to be fact. Self-definition comes from all of a person’s surroundings and history that move their soul. It is the conscious recognition of a characteristic that is not separable from one’s essence; it is the naming of something one chooses to enable to help describe themselves. It is also the addition to reality altogether – because we determine reality. We are in charge of what is real and defined, and what is ethereal nonsense. The only “argument” against this is to say “No, actually, God predefined everything for us during Creation 6,000 years ago, and we have to obey his law and order.” No foolishness will trip us up.

Reality comes with no worded labels on the items within; we press those into service by our piecemeal adoptions, adaptations and deletions that occur over the decades and generations whether or not we are enthused about it. It is an underlying process that cannot be avoided but in isolation from other humans.

So-called “new concepts” such as gender identity and critique of racism and race itself are simply expressions reaching at the actual fundamental functions of our conceptions of self taken into interpersonal interactions. Every person has an articulation and descriptor for their gender or lack thereof; every person whose heart has not been sterilized has an emotional sense of injustice when it occurs; every person has a history and a belonging that deserves uplifting. (Speaking to “white” people, learn to abandon “white” and embrace your specific regional culture, such as “Irish”, “German”, “Dutch”, “French”, “English”, “Scandinavian”, etc. “White” people do have culture – but none of it is truly “white”.)

We do not possess any material in us that clearly states its place in the cosmos. Creation is not real. Even if it was, it would not have been carried out by an entity that white Christians identify with. These fools preach their white Jesus, the godlessness in the masses, the sins of their bodies – but uphold the one sin that assuredly damns them and the rest of us. Why should any assertion they make about women or people of color affect us any further?

It then becomes the duty to live well to atone for our lost fellows and their wasted hearts. It becomes the duty to resist the further harm they would impose.

We can see that, even in that wilderness attempting to absorb our radiance, there is always a living sample of that good society, of that good nature; kept in the hearts and minds and workings of all who nourish that goodness, it is regrown in the planters of our very being. Through our continued works, our ever ascending conscience, our tireless hearts, we blossom the flowers and light the incense of our promised society. Our society held together not by threat of deprivation, but by the invitation to exceed all self-perception, all collective affirmation. The society that is upheld by all the enthusiasm and character of those participating. The society that lets one go when needed, moving onto wider spaces. The society that exists – now – in the goodness, in the sincere intention of human kindness, and need only be planted.

The new abolitionist movement is the synthesis of all the audited strains of liberation from the last few centuries into a general force against all tyranny and all slavery. It is the movement of a society clearly founded on participation and equal access in all social regards. This abolitionist movement includes such malignant systems as capitalism and state socialism, race and its white supremacist order, patriarchy and kyriarchy, police and peace-police, gender roles and sex dichotomy in its list of enemies.

This abolitionist movement is aimed at undoing – at abolishing – the myriad stark ills of humankind that have shaped this reality into one of sorrow rather than joy. We do abolition in every way imaginable, through every capacity that one has. It is not militarism, nor is it pacifism; but it is forceful enough in whatever its application to do what needs to be done. These specifics are for those in their associations to work out.

We are abolitionists because we recognize what harms us; we recognize precisely who we each are and what we each want out of freedom. We know we are abolitionists in the knowing of our loved ones’ suffering. We know we are abolitionists in all the grand and minute contrast between us and all command for suffering.

In the common society, our selves are whole and in tact. We are defined not by the castes the previous society imposed, but by the passions, temperaments and inclinations that are natural to us. We hold our common society in our homes, in our gathering and worship spaces, in our families, in ourselves. When the whole of social and political life becomes imbued by its participants with ease and contentment, knowing that we step into this to directly decide the contents of our lives, a life worth sustaining can finally be ours – All Of Ours!

This abolitionist movement is in me as much as it is in you. It is the call for us to move our lives such that no other life may be stagnated or taken.

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Contribution by Julia Lehmann

We who adore and strive for uncompromised freedom cannot journey out of our abodes without encountering a simple-minded fool who loves only the so-called “peace” of how life has been condemned to be for so many lifetimes. He is infatuated with his lawn, his expensive home and vehicle, his half puffed-up patriotism. He is comfortable in what being a good bitch to order has afforded him. He sees no other possibility for life.

He will summon his harshest tone of offense upon learning of an anarchist in his midst. He will look upon our circled A or chaos sigil or black flags and contend that “You don’t know how PEOPLE work! Without government or police, we would DESCEND into BARBARISM! Without CAPITALISM, we would be waiting in BREAD LINES!” This he declares, with mental filter fixed tightly to avoid digesting the realities of ubiquitous police violence, government overreach and neglect handed down in the same breath, capitalist trickery aimed at robbing our time and pockets, mutual aid efforts saving lives everywhere that they are needed and an unprecedented drive in those inheriting the Earth to undo tyranny that itself marks a need to call all order into question.

The liberal asserts that his precious democracy is both infinitely powerful and blessed with moral superiority, but simultaneously brutalized and persecuted on the world stage by unfair actors. He needs to impose his deluded, artificial nobility of obedience onto fellow subjects in order for his worldview to have a semblance of validity inside the existing institutions. His truest passion is assaulting the rebels into admitting their deep moral wrongdoing in going against the force that came into domination in the 18th century, professing that this order is the last perfect eternal order that will ever be.

But sometimes liberals are a bit less hostile with their police mentality. Sometimes liberals are your grandmother, your neighbor, your coworker, your doctor, your therapist. Sometimes the liberal is someone you love, or someone you need to make friendly with and swiftly part from. Their friendliness is truly their attempt at simply being an amicable enough person, while also administering an opinion on certain situations that, knowingly or unknowingly, reinforces the dominant narratives of a liberal capitalist police state that ends in people experiencing pain, persecution, deprivation and death. This so-called “friendliness” in this context is the mechanism for peer-to-peer mind control. It is the concealed substance inside the delectable-looking dessert. It is intended for nice-seeming people to get a grip on a person’s particular critique and bring it down. We succumb to this in nearly all friendly interactions with people who are vulnerable to accepting what has always been fed to them. All to simply remain cordial.

Sometimes we have situations in the world where an obvious state-sanctioned infraction on life, dignity and autonomy is cheered by citizens and state actors as inevitable, just, well-intended and professionally overseen. The social unrest that results from this state terrorism is demonized, intentionally misinterpreted to confuse the narrative and targeted by an array of collaborating actors.

The false “individualism” of this hell-world constructs buffers between people and the situations in the world; what happens in one city or hemisphere is obstructed from motivating someone in another. The capitalist nation states require a distinct lack of internationalist solidarity to prevail across borders, for fear of stability and civil cooperation. Regardless, information comes through, actions are staged, police are dispatched, people are peaceful, people go to jail. People care about what is happening to other people. They see in others’ suffering their own potential to suffer the same. But it always seems like Adam and Eve all over again when someone seeks to distribute real information on a situation. They are “troublemakers” and “outside agitators”. The liberals do not care about murdered Palestinian children, mothers and boys because, A) they are not white, and, B) they have always been portrayed as terrorists without ever being told of the horrors of the Israeli colonial apartheid state that have motivated their so-called “terrorism”.

We seem doomed at this rate to endure the willful shallowness of thought that liberals of all temperaments cling to in order for an easy grasp at “sense” to be kept on hand, grafted firmly on all they touch for whenever the police knock on the liberals’ doors to tell them that their anarchist kids got killed by the state. We seem condemned to muster a respectful nod that veers away from a sincere interrogation of the existing norms that persist in our peers.

There is no soul left in the desperation that is the belief that “rights and democracy” will triumph over fascism – with the understanding that there will ceaselessly continue to be tidal waves and valleys of fascism and liberalism. I desire no such delirium to rule the ins and outs of my life. I desire no external limit on my passions for life’s possibilities. But this is what the liberal stands for. We anarchists must look plainly at what the liberal wants, and from that reaffirm that we are the enemies of conservatives, fascists, Marxist-Leninists, and yes, of liberals. All four of these compose the social and political slave masters who would collaborate to section off the Earth according to each of their dominions. The anarchist is the savior from this. The anarchist is the one who truly is in touch with reality. The anarchist is the one who manages to break the chains of popular misinformation and light the torch of our daring trek out of slavery.

People raised under liberal capitalism want the right to be stupid. People think it is evil or authoritarian to hold a position that says people cannot and should not think only and precisely what they want to think. This position for me is rooted in a very basic reality: There are very obvious things dominating everything right at this second. Nobody actually has an iota of real freedom. Just a collection of elements and norms taught to us in our upbringings that signal enough nationalistic and sometimes racial pride to keep people in line with all that enables those constructs. Not everyone grows out of these. This itself is simply “disagreed” with. “No” says the liberal. “I choose to believe that we actually live in the best possible balance of things, and that no other human effort could make anything more preferable. Everyone who feels this way is simply a normal person.”

And thus our hell remains. Thus single-use micro and nanoplastics continue to poison my planet and my very body. Thus everyone is still in chains to the economic currents. Thus we are slain by the sword of white colonial capitalist order, and said whites rejoice at this everyday victory while also crying that someone would be even a little “anti-white” in light of all this. In light of all their intentionally stupid bullshit. So we have inner and outer tensions keeping the whole structure together, with the anarchist ready to sever them all.

But this has always been the case in industrial society. Even with much disdain for the fact, the anarchist has merely been the one lurking on the outset of the political compass, not the one wholly free of it. They have been a component to it with some measure of representation – which is still what the anarchist is opposed to. This existent reality must be the motivation to become larger than politics and match the fluid scales of life. On both a conceptual and a material level, the anarchist must successfully undo politics by all means at hand.

The only way to be free is to kill all of the things that make life disposable and gray. Kill them with sense, with kind insight, with love, and equally so with blades, with guns, with bombs. Kill in all ways what kills us in all ways.

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Contribution by Anonymous

The anarchist acts thus not due to modesty, or the spirit of contradiction, but because he holds a conception which is completely different from that of the libertarian. He doesn’t believe in innate liberty, but in liberty that is acquired. And because he knows that he doesn’t possess all liberties, he has a greater will to acquire the power of liberty.

— Albert Libertad, Freedom

I speak to those who know. I speak to those who have made kindling for their fire. I speak to all who are hungry, who are cast down, who are maintaining a foothold in the absurd. My words are this: We must break away from all of it.

We live in the worst imaginable dystopia – and it only gets worse every single day. I cannot even list the relevant articles of events that adequately paint the picture; I know that a cursory glance of the totality leaves enough impression.

No one of ten ways can be the only path we all take on. No couple of revolving chores can make existing more tolerable or efficient. No hope that is not sprouting through the determined life choices of the free individual can lead to opportunities for others. A passionate creativity, its resulting clarity of oneself in relation to it all, must come about like a fine incense smoke wisping through the trash heaps of society. We who write and read this make it so.

Life is ours! This does not mean it is “all of ours”, because it rightly belongs only to all of those who love freedom and love the vast possibility in being alive and free. Life is only available to those who have no mind for controlling others. Life may only be open to those who are not bent on sealing it shut. Who says so? Those who manifest and defend freedom, those who shape the conditions of life to make it worth entering and enjoying.

But life is not so at this time. The great majority of people are slaves to some property owner, to some employer, to some notion that straps them to the rail leading to the furnace. It is a terrible configuration. It is terrible to be possessed by any configuration. In all the history of the nations and the peoples, great banners were raised, swords and rifles taken up in the march toward an upheaval that results in a new society, either of rights and due process, or of autocracy and streamlined domination. This pattern has never done any person under control any good. To fight for the nation is to fight against oneself and one’s associates. It is to fight for the negation of one’s ultimate dexterity of will. Sadly some do find a sense of righteous empowerment through surrenduring some portion of themselves to a cause, a party, an ideology, an identity. And it seems that this trend can only persist until those with radical potential assume the best possible mode of disobeying.

A turn must come from within us. A deviation that retains all the zeal of fighting for something worthy, but coordinated under the sunlight of ourselves, carried out with a direct connection between our efforts and our gains. No more with constructing new walls that still stifle who we each really are. No more with dreaming and hoping in accordance with the miasma of existing acceptability and civility. The bounds of life are there as a test: Of whether one will remain among the livestock or dare to journey beyond the fence.

A time is upon us. A time for us to affirm our lives. No more can stand in our way.

We forsake the garden of our every possibility in remaining fervent about things that truthfully do not effect what matters. We embrace our garden in the forceful counter-imposition of our beautiful rage onto what aims to imprison us and tell us “No.”.

Now is our superior right to say as an explosion of thunder and a rain of fire “No” in return. In bright dastardly flames be all the churches, all the banks, all the courts, all the detention centers, all the schools and universities, all the freshly looted stores, all the landmarks of our slavery.

What is any “savagery” of a group of anarchists compared to the sterilized, collectivist savagery of the state and what it protects? Their entrenchment into everything has reached such heights of triumph, that life unshackled from its engines can scarcely be thought of anymore. That alone should be enough to stoke a vicious revival of life altogether.

Let the blind rage of deep anarchistic insight be the guide for our journey. Let the storm inside of you be the praxis of actual liberation for yourself and your loved ones.

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Co-Authored by the Effrenatum Collective

Out of all the sacred ideals of modern society, there seems to be nothing more sacrosanct to the masses than their precious “democracy.” It feels impossible to go just twenty-four hours before being assaulted by some pretentious corporate journalist or news anchor about a new imminent danger to “our democracy” and how “we” have to rush to save it from catastrophe. What is it that requires our immediate and undivided attention? What, precisely, do they claim is so dangerous? Put simply: individual liberty. “How can this be?” says a brave shock trooper for democracy. “We are all for individual liberty as long as it’s safe, legal, and reasonable.” The masses want freedom that is bestowed upon them from above by the State (which they essentially view as an extension of themselves in their belief that we are the government), and when they learn of a new “imminent danger,” they look only up to the transcendental State for solutions. The response to every societal problem will never be to allow experimentation and natural order to reign free, to allow free and voluntary association between individuals without coercion, but will instead be a call for the increase in the power of the most disastrous and insidious entity against individual liberty known to man. When put in this way, everything becomes clear: “Our democracy” means nothing more than “our submission.” The Revolutionists of America and France thought they had established true freedom after overthrowing oppressive kings and aristocrats, when in reality their concession to democracy only led to a life of resignation for the masses. Their cries for the rescue of “our democracy” are merely a disguise for the unfortunate fact that the masses have sacrificed virtually the entirety of their individuality and sense of self to external affirmation. In a world where the State and the social straitjacket vanished and everything returned to a state of nature without mystical social contract theories, the sudden weight of the desperate need for internal affirmation would quickly prove to be insurmountable. They would no longer have any holy corporate journalist available to explain what is right and wrong, or any politician promising them the moon in exchange for a vote. Like looking down on the edge of an eternal abyss, they would not be overcome with fierce joy, but by a relentless and terrifying sense of horror, because now they have come face-to-face with true, unbridled freedom. A freedom now unchained from the all familiar Western obstacles of safety and constriction. Freedom that has no heavy anchor or higher ideal to justify its existence. If the masses could fight against their terror and obtain the courage to speak to the abyss, they might say, “We ask not for this unpredictable, Dionysian freedom, but for freedom with reasonable constraints and a clear trajectory.” Disgusted with their imbecility and cowardice, the abyss would respond, “Imbecilic creatures, you know nothing of freedom! You have asked for the heaviest of chains and thought of it as liberty! Rather than asking for broader shoulders, you have cried for bondage, and will crumble under the tremendous weight of your own depressing desire for servitude.” Perhaps in this alternate world the isolated masses could find sufficient affirmation by looking to sticks and rocks, but they would be nothing more than what they are today—slaves. How could they be anything else? In their religion that preaches the sanctity of the democratic process, the State, and its laws, they have become sacrificial animals devoid of a self, devoid of an energetic “I.” While, like most people, they assert that they have their own deeply held principles, one only needs to wait until the next “imminent danger” presents itself to see how quickly the superficial varnish is washed away, and how their spine turns to dust, when they sacrifice their principles to even the gentlest societal pressure. For the masses, everything that isn’t locked up tight in the social straitjacket is the uncontrolled abyss that they must try to seize and destroy with one law after another. This cowardice, this desire to be conquered, this love of sacrifice and resignation, is why I despise the masses. While they, the rabble, intend to live life (assuming one could call it living instead of dying) on their knees worshiping their masters and societal phantoms, I intend to live life with a ferocious “I” and live it according only to my ego alone. Seen with a Nietzschean squint, I live life as an active, assertive force that pursues my own selfish affirmation based upon only what I deem most important in life. I seek only my own ends without regard to humanity or some supernatural ideal. In stark contrast, democracy seeks to destroy internal affirmation by outsourcing it to “authorities” and “experts” to serve as sacred guideposts for society in an attempt to fill the eternal abyss that terrifies them to their core. Rather than viewing it as the “least worst system,” I view democracy as an invader, as something resembling a declaration of war when it attempts to suffocate me in the social straitjacket. Further, democracy is an obscenity that turns bondage and sacrifice into a sacred ritual. I would say simply and directly that I despise it and have no intention to ever come to its aid when nature has decided the time has come for its destruction. When democracy dies, let its tombstone read: There is no “we” here, there is only “I.” To end, I will leave you with the words spoken by Louis Lingg in his Address to the Court that will continue to echo throughout time: “I despise you. I despise your order, your laws, your force-propped authority. Hang me for it!”

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Contribution by Mother Liberty

Every opinion is a barb on the wire of social enclosure. Every opinion is cloaked in a special innocence in order to coax out the self-indictment of one within society. Opinions originating before you, labeled as more noble, informed and divinely inspired than yours, determine how valid your opinions are now, what role they will play in the act of “best opinions” winning out, always with the brutal phallus of liberal democracy raping our asses deeper and deeper. And for this reason it is preferable to do away with the boundaries of acceptable and unacceptable opinions and charge to make a present reality where nobody can think for you; where nobody’s lack of deep critical thought can win out against your obviously and solely correct critical judgment on something specific. It isn’t possible to not be caught by opinion, but it is possible to become a terrorist against the paradigm of certain opinions most effecting what individual lives will go through. Fascists want one opinion to rule them all; liberals want a tyranny of majority opinion; conservatives want a puppet show of opinion where conservatives pull the strings; socialists want everyone to own the means of opinion-making and communists want a post-scarcity situation where opinion is ubiquitous. Our position is therefore to be: “Opinions do not actually exist. They do not exist as anything whole or substantial; they remain a specter of political trickery among too many.” Our thesis will be: “If I asked you to show me an ‘opinion,’ everything you would point to that is not a bombed out school for the deaf, a row of homes raided and set ablaze or an infant lying dead from gunfire or worse, it would not be close to the substance and consequence of ‘opinion.’” What I have just made is a judgment, which is not up for debate. A judgment, ripped from the bloody paws of Christianity, is a remark that contains a reflection of the real and perceivable. An opinion must remain trivial and only deflect the real if it is not to be a danger. Opinions are simply petty value judgments that, in their very pettiness, affect more than we can imagine. (Just turn on Fox “News” or go on 4chan if you need a perfect example of this dominating everything. These losers successfully make up an entire identity around being oppressed and downtrodden, i.e., “white genocide”, incels, etc., while in actuality still ruling the world and working to expand their rule and dominance even deeper.) Opinions can be about anything, which is simultaneously amusing and the most horrible thing ever. Everything from certain condiments on certain food to the humanity of certain people, opinions determine convention and acceptability. They drive domestic and foreign policy, they worm their ways up through chains of command to target and murder certain people, they destroy families and brutalize children on every mental/emotional/physical field. Opinions ruin us because they are what is valued most above sensible judgments. There are no “opinions” to be had about climate collapse because it is here and now right in front of us, and to question its dire emergency is to merely advocate prolonged suicide. There are no “opinions” to be had about queer and gender non-conforming people, because we have existed since divisions were made between people on every unmentionable scale. We are the consequence of a desperate cult of normalcy. No. It is not up for discussion that certain people should be murdered for their opinions because an opinion can tell a great deal about someone’s judgment and therefore someone’s inclination. If that person cannot remove themself from someone or some association that wants them gone, then they can only be killed if they will not fuck off. Fascists and the whole lot of carefully opinionated morons can only be killed because their opinions intrude on our own determination for our lives. They necessarily are invasive opinions that are the predominant and thus societally validated positions to impose on others. Opinions about whether it’s compulsory to produce children make so many people objects of ire for the fact of the matter that they are free from ruining their lives with crotch-fruit. The sacred holy bullshit of baby-shitting seeks to rape everyone into agreeing with and structuring their lives around the opinion that the Abrahamic god is real and demands us to reproduce and carry on white protestant notions of the cishet nuclear family. Opinions like this still dominate the mostly white Christian world, the Islamic world and sections of the Jewish world. All of these religions are shit, and every social system they produce should be murdered. No self-determining individual gives a fuck about opinions, or cares if they or anyone holds an opinion. What matters is the mobility of someone making their life wholly independent from any social scrutiny or political sanction. When a person’s life can weigh in the balance of “is she human? Is she worthy of life?” that is terrorism. And the actual terrorism of all existing power in all settings of living beings needs to be met with a harsher terror in order for life to be worth living. The only goal, the only objective in sight should be the complete freedom from others’ opinions. It is not okay to me, and it should not be okay to anyone, that a matter of living breath – an entire life or collection of lives – can be taken by an opinion. It is not okay to me that these sorts of opinions are allowed to be held by anyone; it is not a question of freedom or free thought when the content of a thought, a word, an advocacy endeavors on harm done unto innocents. We saw in 2014-18 with the hideous rise of Daesh (Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant) a beautiful global surge of those passionate against all creeds of cruel fundamentalist control flowed into the embattled areas to fight alongside those driving the fascist scum back into their miserable holes. A wonderful international confederation of brigades organized themselves against the reign of tyrannical zealots; it was not “opinion” that brought those brave fighters in from their corners of the world. It was the recognition that Daesh was then and remains now Islamic fascism. It was with the understanding that “the opinion” of fascism is unacceptable and cannot be allowed to live. We need now, in occupied Turtle Island, a great confederation of fighters to come together and apply those same strategies against Daesh to the Christian fundamentalist version of Daesh in Turtle Island. Christian ISIS Needs Killing. Christian Daesh Needs Wiping From Existence. All Of Abrahamism Needs To Die. Live life moment to moment. In each moment, everything should be different for you, because everything is different. Everything shapes itself with the free flowing motion called the present. Be in the present. Act in the present. Do Everything You Can to begin murdering this unwanted world before opinion stalls our victory and kills us all.

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Contribution By “Fuck You, That’s Who!”

What is called Anarchism by westerners is a conscious synthesis of existential and political variables. It is the body of theory, action and impulse that results from any rule existing.

As a school of thought distinct from but not unrelated to varieties of socialism, anarchism is against both state and private control over the facets of life. Anarchist thought became formally compiled some time after the so-called “Age of Enlightenment”, but anarchistic ideas, impulses and activities have permeated living beings since the first social systems of control, exploitation and domination began.

One early term for an anarchist was “Libertarian”, which sadly appears lost to the slew of American minarchist capitalists who have hijacked the term.

Beginning at the individual level, building to include associates – if any – its practice is called anarchy, also considered the pursuit of anarchy through anarchist thought. (An adage exists stating that the “New World” is contained in the actions one carries out in the present one.) Yet both the existence of anarchist thought and its fruitful application can both aptly be called anarchy, because anarchy simply means a specific situation without social hierarchy or coercion wherein people can truly think for themselves and directly shape the contents of their lives. It is the tendency toward the living matter of freedom, against every force of the bald-faced lie of “Freedom™” to be a slave to malicious morons who have no true importance to you. To serve their riches, to only survive quietly.

Anarchists generally feel that all the affairs of being alive and among other living beings, currently contained inside of global capitalist state society, can be much preferably managed from the ground-up – without specialization, hierarchy or malicious technologies – insofar as there are things to tend to which are directly connected to what matters in life instead of doing busywork for capitalists to merely survive and cope within a strained, undignified shell of a life.

Anarchists want the joy of being alive and thriving — not the threat of starvation or exposure — to be the central motivation for any individual or collaborative activity that sustains those involved.

Anarchist existence is defined by tension, razor-sharp critical thought, constant observation of the dominant world and contemplation of ways to undo, on any scale, the harm that persists under the prevailing configurations. Anarchists feel that every moment alive is a moment to act however is best. Every impulse to self-destroy is truly an impulse to undo the Hell thrust upon us in this short time here.

If nothing else, to act is to finally sever the tension between the individual boiling under pressure and the society politely staring, waiting to ensnare some motion of theirs into a product, trend or identifiable pattern for surveillance/exploitation. The anarchist exists and persists under this (or outside and around this) because it seems to be the most interesting challenge humanity has ever taken up: To scale the prison walls as a lone individual or in small clusters of friends and finally bask in the sunlight of defiant resolution. To speak through action that all people are inclined to live without paternalist excuses for misery and obedience to people we hate; to follow through with our own desires and determinations for who we are and how we are to live, completely and wholeheartedly against the entire basic conception of the need for state paternalism or capitalist dictate that steers the former. The anarchist knows that before the proper metrics of civilization, there was near perfect autonomy and innate dignity in being alive. There were indeed forms of brutality, but the space to resist them and even kill them in one’s own life was far, far better than it is now.

The anarchist wants all cruelty removed from power by any means necessary. The anarchist does not need to call themself any economic qualifier to be an anarchist. All they require is a critical mind and heart for well-being and complete agency for all who live.

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Co-Authored by the Effrenatum Collective

i.

Exiled from life in fanatical desperation
to maintain the hell-world — I sing
the swan song of living joy.
I watch, every waking day, the droves
who deserve better — and the drones
who deserve nothing at all.
The steps along this way are the same
as those who suffered the march
through a different paradigm
of chiseling away at the block laid atop them.
There are those born into that struggle —
and those born into imposing it.
A glance of the face of the learned one
sinking into the dismay of realization
tells me that things are not well:—
It could tell of wicked cupidity,
of the normal evils of life.
It could tell of birds nesting
beside the lynched scapegoats
and regular market functions
staged during total collapse.
It could tell of age-old ends of the world . . .
but it tells of the worst vital decline.
Of a severance between life & humanity.
As if a godless covenant had been dropped,
one that enriches the works of good hearts;
one that is sustained by a balanced nature,
and this balance finds itself under siege.
O good fight, become better soon
than we endure you now. Be narrow
enough to center our sights.
Be plain enough to tell our way.
All seek through grand certainties,
defined paths, the selfsame resolution
that lies bare, innate in life untamed.
A different line of considerations
is more than imminent to our wellness.
Grand announcements from cloaked sources
seemingly don the office that determines
what the chain of days are to be;
what the breadth of energy is to be sapped
for the sterile bases of the world economy.
Somehow they run to trust them.
They make us ashamed to be human,
running face-first into the suite of delusions.
The church, the bible, the cross.
These are tools for facilitating
the actual religion of economy at play.
Just as life untamed, life tamed
into insanity lies bare its drive.
The interwoven stations of accumulating,
tallying and monopolizing have rendered
the worst out of us; the failure of heart;
the collapse of the truly critical mind.
The fair bird that came last in spring
has flown away to rekindle in the moon.
Our statues, our castles, our holy texts
have not made up for our blood, our tears.
The wings of joy abandon us . . . and rightly so.

ii.

Now we lift a broken hearted head
to the rising stars with candle lit.
The aching wonder of being a child
bleeds into the present point in life.
All the sense we accumulated since:
The undying drive to be who we are.
The air, the sky, the openness
of space on Earth signals both calm
and determination. Let it hang there . . .
be at ease this moment.
Be in the tempered light
that warms the hands before directing
the life your vital keeper gave.
The breath we draw is the promise
gifted to us, knowingly or not,
by those who spawned and fostered us.
All you allow in you to define you
is suspended in your pallet to apply
at the whim of your being alive.
Where to with this knowledge?
How to traverse the terrible landscape?
We simply become the new age.
We are not beholden to the morals
intended to destroy our criticality;
We do not halt our lives
for the feelings and demands of morons.
This is the simple mode of doing things.
The age of apologizing to fundamentalists
dies with the words I write. The age
of denying who our hearts tell that we are
burns into ash and is blown away by a gust
made by the stampede of the free.
I seek to make good sustenance
from bitter embraces of the edge:
We cannot stand upon our mounts
without knowing the valley below.
We cannot raise a tattered flag
without stitching the rags of our history
into the proud tapestry of vital resurrection,
of a new rise toward self-determination.
Let the hell-world be made gone once and for all,
and the wings of joy evolved back in their place.

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Poetry · Contribution by Wulfinna · Original work

Our “betters” don’t conceive of their subjects’ woe. We are not a problem to them, which is the problem. We’re only a variable of usefulness: Of whether we will show up to work on time, of whether we will destroy everything and what the powder keg is to be, of whether the units of usefulness who assumed the roles of protectors of this way of existence can sufficiently genocide everyone who stands up for their own lives quickly and cleanly enough to get the economy back and running the next month. We are the wheels of their project. To pretend like we have a say on the matter inside its operation is ludicrous. The modes and manners by which what we have known persists was won by the consent of the governed, that is, the silent consent to have one’s life shuffled around by a cluster of fat-headed assholes only interested in further enriching their dynasties, their agendas, their exclusive rule over pleasure and wellness while we among the many go without. A multitude of this in perpetuity is sure to win the hearts of those plentiful morons who believe in a “normal life” within this very real and present hell on Earth. Such morons conceive of any unrest as merely a necessary audit of and response to liberal society’s management of other people’s lives. The very worst can be protested all day and night with little bearing on its actual coming to pass. What then? Beautiful art lamenting our impossible conundrum? Clever and witty summations stacked in the zines of our decades? Dramatic showings of ultimately symbolic counter-spectacle? I praise all who have said what needed saying… but now we reach a point where we know. We know the next thing to be said after our long, friendly back-and-forths about our predicament being old as writing. Where is the rupture? Where is the firelight that grows and grows with the anxieties of the stupid and the powerful? When may it finally engulf the dead hearts of those who adore fascism and worship fallen empires and masturbate to their aesthetics and customs so they may wallow in the despair of knowing their forfeited human goodness and live their remaining seconds in dread of our blades and guns? For there are varmints in the terrains of life: Not a second thought of mercy ought be paid to those who pay not a thought of mercy to those merely living their best, advocating only the same. Advocating something better than this rotten, soulless shit.

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Contribution By Jim