Month: May 2024

1. Hail self-constituted judgment. Hail nature above good or evil. Hail instinct for joy. Hail blazing peace. How blindness to all stupidity is the highest bliss — and clearest sight!
2. The anarchist inside of you and the one outside of you are not the same. One would guide you to your triumph of your “I”, and one would lead you as you had been lead before into submission and toxic vapors of “rights” and “legal avenues.”
3. The politician has you in his sights! He would pull the trigger at the very moment your beautiful black flag unfurls to eclipse those of the empires and of the republics. Dare to become bulletproof! Dare to rise against their Hate for True Freedom!
4. The voice of “the people” is never the voice arising from you or me. That voice is the bleating of society’s sheep comfortably corralled by the barred windows looking out on the burning Earth. The voice of the victorious “I” is the final, deadly thunderclap that rings in the destruction of these walls.
5. I trekked through here without shoes, without clothes… I instigated in myself the primal bareness of the basic mode of living… and in all of this, I was denied the very breath of my lungs, the very beat of my heart. And even though my very naked self had taught them what life really is — they who held authority taught me what life really comes down to. (Easy answer: “be brutal or be brutalized”.)
6. Once I thought the purpose of living was to be good and say your prayers. Now I know, through the toil of my body and the history of the scars of my soul, that it is really to straighten one’s spine and cackle in liberating insanity with the blood of one’s foes streaming down one’s face.
7. Ye mighty may be slain; ye wise may grow weary; but I am the infinite! I am the easy reach into stark perfection!
8. Consequence? The consequence of my audacity? I devour it like the body of Christ in my atheist malice! I undo my bandolier in the moment before the end of battle; I pace with focus into the few-yards’ vantage of my foe; I draw my blade, come closer and I do the unspeakable. I do it because to eat my foe, and yes, my consequence, is to eat all of Hell and be done with it!
9. I know it through unspoken thought. I know it gleaming in the moonlight and throbbing in the scorch of the sun. I know it in the indifference of all the masses. I know it in the grin of my beloved. I know it in the hate and the joy of my being. I know. I know that I am destined to reach and reach with no gain. But in the kernel of that perpetual failure, I am to win against the lot of sorry fucks.
10. Soft be the streams and hard be the rocks. But the upright, the living, the breathing, the growing… let them be nothing. Let them be nothing to tell themselves apart in any cohesive way: because it is more than nothing to construe something, but does that something uphold the sweet nothing? Or weave suffering, loss and lonesome?

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Contribution by Gordon Jonson

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