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Title: Black Seed: Issue 7
Author: Various Authors
Date: 2019, Summer
Language: en
Topics: Black Seed, indigenous, Black Seed #7, green anarchism, anti-civ
Source: Retrieved on January 2, 2021 from PDF OCR
Notes: Free  Black Seed pobox 3920 Berkeley CA 94703  Editors: Dominique Ganawaabi, Aragorn!, Goat, dot matrix  https://blackseed.anarchyplanet.org/

Various Authors

Black Seed: Issue 7

Editorial

This issue of Black Seed, the seventh in five years, represents yet

another editorial group change and yet another optimistic push for the

project. We can now say that the project is indigenous-led, for what

that’s worth. We intended for this issue to be filled with manifestos

about what that means, but perhaps these fragments say as much as we can

in manifesto-language

Black Seed is a publication of an indigenous anarchy. Two words that

mean a million or, to put it another way, we are here, from this place,

and we are free from the rules that have come before us, from the

ideologies of Empire and Colony. This ridiculous assertion is possible

because whatever hope or vision we have for the future begins with the

genocide of the people we come from and from an engrossing political

fantasy that has entailed holding the contradictory positions of

individual freedom (in the fantasy of liberal ideas that have freedom

meaning the freedom of ownership and markets) with collective

responsibility (meaning we are responsible for fixing the social

problems that resulted from too much liberalism). Distinct from the

neo-liberal collectivism of postmodern America is an indigenous anarchy

and the practice and belief in here-ness and freedom.

Indigenous is a troubled word. We like that— because living is a

troubled affair—but we understand the confusion when one feels unclear

about our intention when using it. It is a classic “overloaded operator”

in that it means several, more-or-less unrelated things, which rely on

the context of the word more than the word itself. It means something

similar but perhaps more general than “native” (as in Native American).

It also means a spiritual connection to the place you inhabit that is

indivisible. It is about blood and it is about land and it is about

spirit.

Anarchy is a troubled word also. Anarchism is the political belief in a

certain kind of world, with specific traditions, histories, and

tensions; anarchy is the set of moments that have actually occurred,

where that belief was actually put to a test. These specificities and

distinctions do not exactly roll off the tongue. Not only does the term

itself invite confusion but the partisans of the position are actively

disagreeable. For us to use the word at all, we have to suffer

association with others whose definitions we disagree with (and they

us). But we refuse to let go of the brutal optimism of wanting a world

free from terrible systems and their histories. We desire a freedom with

the pedigree of Emma Goldman, Renzo Novatore, and the hundreds of years

of native American resistance to colonization.

We still use the term green anarchy to describe our position but this

issue begins a preference towards other words to describe the same

things. We like green over terms such as primi- tivist, ecological, or

environmental but that is because green says something that is more

general when in fact we are more specific. We are pro-here-ists. We are

located where we are, not a general humanist environmentalism that

defends, for instance, human life above other life. We are related to

you who live there only by the fact that the intricacies of our life

connect and relate to yours. We recognize that most of your problems are

yours and yours alone. We’d like to hear about them, especially in the

pages of this paper, but know that we are not in that thing that the

old-fashioned call solidarity. Even when we think you are right we now

live in a time when the ties that bind are loose indeed. We are not part

of a high-minded project. We are each trying to survive and might only

have that in common. We live in the cracks of empire, between

surveillance and those who snitch, and in the inscrutability of our own

position. Post-indian, post-left, and after call-out culture.

This issue features articles on veganism, fungi, and post-Indian

aphorisms, interviews with the Ampoa Duta collective. It finishes the

Talsetan Brothers interview from issue 5 (oops), and includes reviews of

the IAF, Ellul and Voyer, and The Uninhabitable Earth.

There are dramatic updates to our website at:

http://blackseed.anarchyplanet.org.

By the time you see this issue, most older articles should be up at

https://theanarchistlibrary.org

Revolution of Fungal Life by Anonymous

The Revolution of Fungal Life: My Journey as an Anarchist into the

Praxis of Mushroom Hunting

For the past seven years I’ve stepped away from a lot of my anarchist

resistance projects and stepped into the forests of the Pacific

Northwest. Learning about nature was always something I meant to do, but

I put it off for years. Maybe I considered reading about the negative

aspects of life emerging from our initial and continued separation from

nature’s rhythms to be absolutely necessary for demystifying the network

of domination and my place in it, or maybe I thought breaking bank

windows and spraypainting stencils and slogans was the most direct way I

could make known my hatred of the totality of civilization, as well as

the best way to encourage others to fight against it. When I was younger

and my thoughts about anarchy were newer, I found myself drawn to many

of the ideas within the green anarchist, pro-situationist, and

insurrectionary anarchist tendencies. I spent a great deal of effort

trying to further those ideas and practices, but I neglected to really

engage with the non-human life that surrounded me. I failed to relearn

those lost natural rhythms that, as I hypocritically told everyone who

would listen, civilization was silencing. That isn’t to say that I

didn’t know a few basic plants and their culinary or medicinal uses, but

looking back now it feels like I was paying lip-service. All that

changed for me when I began hunting and eating wild mushrooms.

I first ventured into the forest trails around my small city in search

of Psilocybes. I’ve since discovered this is a common access point,

where many others have found a deeper interest in mycology. I got myself

the small field guide All That the Rain Promises and More and went out

all fall. I didn’t find any mushrooms, but while searching the fragrant,

lush, rain-soaked forest floor I did find so many other fascinating

fungal life forms. I was vegan at the time and already familiar with the

commercial Portobello (Agaricus), Oyster (Pluerotus) and Shiitake

(Lentinula) varieties at the store so I was really excited to find all

of these edible and tasty mushrooms just popping up everywhere. For that

first year I was too afraid to eat any of the ones I found, thanks to

common conditioning about just how easy it is to poison yourself, so I

just took them home and learned how to identify them. The following year

I was a bit more ready, but I was still too scared to eat anything

besides the foolproof basics: Lobsters (Hypo- myces Lactifluorum),

Chanterelles (Cantharellus Formosus, Cascaden- sis, and Subalbidus),

Oysters (Plu- erotus and Pleurocybella), Zeller’s Boletes (Xerocomellus

Zellerii and Chrysenteron), Shaggy Manes (Cop- rinus Comatus) and Shaggy

Parasols (Chlorophyllum Brunneum and Olivieri). Occasionally I would go

out with an older local anarchist mycologist/mushroom hunter who taught

me tips to help pick some of the trickier species like Candy Caps

(Lactarius Rubidus) and Shrimp Russulas (Russula Xerampelina). But it

wasn’t until my third year out, when I found my first Porcini (Boletus

Edulis) that my mushroom hunting began in earnest. I had found and eaten

a ton of other new mushrooms that year: the Prince Agaricus complex

(augustus and silvicola), Hedgehogs (Hydnum repandum and umbilicatum), a

Cauliflower (Sparassis crispa), Birch Boletes (Leccinum), Chicken of the

Woods (Laetiporus Gilbertsonii and Conifericola), but, for reasons I

have yet to fully understand, my first Boletus Edulis was a pivotal

moment that altered the course of my life.

Where I live there are edible and medicinal fungi fruiting every season,

so foraging quickly became a year-round activity for me. Truffles

(Tuber) and certain medicinal polypores (Fomotopsis, Trametes) and

lichens (Usnea) can be found in the winter, Morels (Morchella) and

Spring King Boletes (Boletus Rex- veris) fruit throughout the spring and

then into the summer the Agaricus augustus complex, Chicken of the Woods

(Laetiporus), Reishis (Gano- derma), Lobsters (Hypomyces), and Deer

Mushrooms (Pluteus cervinus) emerge, until finally everything else pops

up when the fall rains begin again. I used to assume that there were

only four seasons, maybe five if you include harvest, but I now

recognize that there are hundreds. Gathering became a passion that never

ended and when I couldn’t find mushrooms I began harvesting medicinal

and edible plants. I soon realized that there were seasons within

seasons. Cottonwood buds pop out from late January to mid February,

Morchella Importuna fruit from mid March to late April, so if I want to

collect a lot that year then I can’t miss out on those brief windows.

Eventually I began to feel that each new species I harvested represented

a single note and as the season of each species layered with or followed

the next, the procession of species became a repeating rhythm to me. I

was beginning to make out the melody to an ancient and never-ending

song, that I could play along with. But only if I were there, living

closely amongst its natural composers, could I hear it loud enough to

join in.

My joy for mushroom hunting led me to identification through taxonomy.

I’ve always enjoyed noticing subtle differences. As an anarchist this

helped me avoid traps through understanding and identifying nuances

between the various left revolutionary factions—that, if I let them,

would have tried to swindle away my creative energy to grow the

political power of their organizations—and of course in the immense

undertaking of categorizing all of the different forms of control

deployed to maintain this culture of domination throughout its

his-story. I’ve found that identification is the main holdup when it

comes to picking wild mushrooms, but it’s really not as difficult as

most people are taught that it is; you just have to pay close attention

to variations in form. Basically, every species is unique and has its

own morphological features, and if you learn what parts to look for,

then it’s actually incredibly hard to poison yourself. I firmly believe

that the majority of anarchists, who make it a practice to learn the

terms used in the subversive theory they read, and who for the most part

critically engage with each other over seemingly similar but actually

different radical practices, are discerning and careful enough to master

the fundamentals of mushroom taxonomy. While the technical literature

uses some pretty loaded terminology (potentially problematic words like

kingdom, order, retardant, pioneer, colonize, empirical, etc. or by

classifying certain species as higher or lower, etc.) that many

anarchists might find irritating, I still believe that it’s worth it.

Maybe we, as anarchists, could invent and advocate for better terms than

what’re available now.

Most mushrooms are either my- corrhizal or saprophytic or a mix of both

in different stages of their life cycle, so I realized I needed to know

the varieties of plant life that they were growing with, or feeding on,

in order to locate them faster. With the help of keys, I did. Keys are

tools that list what descriptors to look to whittle down to the exact

species of mushrooms I found. Once I learned to key out most species of

edible mushrooms and their plant partners, I just wanted to know who

everyone else was. Now, when I walk through the forest, I know almost

everyone there, which not only aids in finding the mushrooms I hunt for

(by allowing me to view a fuller separation from form (ie, at a glance

knowing that’s a fallen alder leaf, not a mushroom) but has actually

changed the way I interpret my walk from pretty and mysterious green

scenery viewed almost monolithically into a constant reminder that I’m

surrounded by life that I recognize and can interact with. This becomes

even more true when I return to regular patches and get to know specific

individuals over years.

Although I am wholeheartedly opposed to cities, I have found myself

living in them for most of my life. I’ve also, for financial reasons,

never owned a car, so my mushroom hunting was for the most part limited

to searching peoples yards and forest parks around my small city. I find

myself doing serious mushroom derives to find new patches to harvest,

wandering around on my bike, skateboard, or by foot, exploring new

neighborhoods and city parks, making mental maps of trees in yards or

wood chips in front of churches, the micro climates of certain

neighborhoods, the distance to major roads, any evidence of pesticides

or other sources of pollutants on stunted development of plant life and

more. While on a mushroom derive I allow myself to be pulled by my own

judgments, and it’s more like the Situ- ationists derive than the

Surrealists drift, because I analyze the pyscho- geography of the places

I find myself in. Unlike both drift and derive, however, I am completely

unimpressed by human structures and find my focus points to be, not

architecture or side streets, but certain trees, grasses, or piles of

wood chips. I often judge my immediate surroundings based on the amount

and varieties of life that inhabit them. Forests and gardens, where

there are hundreds of living things with endless intricacies to their

relationships, become more and more appealing. When I go out on these

mushroom derives, I usually end up violating private property laws,

which is an excellent way to draw myself into new situations. I’ve made

some friends by showing up on their lawn as a stranger, picking

mushrooms and introducing myself. I have also been in a lot of

altercations with asshole homeowners. Usually, I just calmly let them

know that I don’t respect their fucking bullshit middle class

sensibilities. Sometimes I come back later and pick their backyards

solely on principle. There’s a map of the city I’m piecing together

that’s based on repeatedly visiting and checking on the health of

individual mycelium. This is a life- affirming pyschogeography, which,

along with my developing critiques of mass society, industry, leftism,

and technology. have now fully discredited any lingering sympathies for

the Situationists’ unitary urbanism. I know see unitary urbanism as a

way for council communism to automate production in order to turn the

whole of civilization into a series of city-wide Disneylands.

Through mushroom hunting I’ve become more sensitive to picking out

natural relationships forming where they are, instead of where I assume

they should be. Idealized nature is an impediment to direct connection.

While I would prefer to spend most of my days meandering through ancient

lowland old growth temperate rainforests of Doug fir and spruce, I find

that I spend most of my time in the far more common places where those

forests used to be. As I lament the loss of these epic climax

ecosystems, I consciously choose not to compartmentalize wildlife into

only those purest environments. I’m absolutely opposed to nature as

spectacle and therefore seek out habitats (no matter how sparse their

threads of relationships may be) that are around me and that I can

engage with. This search has helped me more fully understand the plight

faced daily by the creatures who endure life in the city and just where

those creatures tend to congregate. Understanding the hardships they

endure to stick it out in cities makes me examine parallels in my life.

I admire that certain kind of tenacity required to exist in places one

shouldn’t. As an anarchist I’ve spent a considerable amount of time

trying to kill the cop in my head. What I’ve found is that the state

can’t possibly monitor and act within the totality of its own terrain

and I can exploit the illusion of total control if I rid myself of

ingrained submissive behavior. A combination of a lack of state

supervision and the infrastructure to repeatedly enforce its laws are

what allow me to go beyond what I would normally allow myself to do. If

I choose to, I can then go on to support others in freeing themselves,

and as those strings of relationships become more expansive, healthier,

and diverse it is that much harder for the forces of social control to

remove us. What begins as a few lichens, mosses, grasses, and weeds

growing in cracks with a handful of mushroom species supporting them

(either through a direct mycorrhizal nutrient exchange or indirectly

through the mycelium’s saprophytic digestive process as it breaks down

complex, potentially toxic, compounds, cleaning the soil and exposing

their roots to important, previously inaccessible, minerals) eventually

becomes something more substantial when each passing day more and more

biomass is added and repurposed, that build up of top- soil shifts to a

different type, that is able to support tree life, larger animals, and

other more temperamental specialized species. Those forgotten cracks

become a functioning ecosystem. I call the places where this process

occurs, capitalist non-spaces. They’re the dark corners, peripheries,

less-used and off-limits areas that are built into the city planning.

Median strips between opposing lanes of traffic (where I’ve seen my

biggest Boletus to date), abandoned fenced- off lots, and buffer zones

between train tracks and residential property are only a few examples.

These are places where, for some reason or another, nothing is supposed

to happen. They’re the un-trafficked temporary refuges for life—often

mistakenly referred to as dead zones—that exist almost everywhere I

look. The spiders in your house or the raccoon who eats your trash, the

capitalist non-space is where they live. It’s the psychic manifestation

of the notion that everyone must have a socially legitimate reason in

order to be somewhere or else face judgment. If I were somehow able to

track the physical pathways that the herd uses daily and subsequently

highlight them on a map, the negative space would likely represent

non-spaces. It’s where the herd seldom ventures, because built into its

design is some utilitarian or aesthetic function that either

purposefully or inadvertently, through law or through social norms,

restricts or deters exploration. Nonspaces attract life because nature

abhors a vacuum and because of the unstoppable force of entropy. These

might seem like blanket statements, but to me they are some of the most

inspiring forces of destruction and creation imaginable, carried out by

individuals who, through study and over time, I’ve come to know. To

notice these creatures build a hodgepodge ecosystem in an environment so

hostile to life, was crucial to developing my own eco-anarchist ideas of

the importance of place, and perhaps can serve as an example of what the

forces driving ruination can offer to those of us who have similar

goals.

Mushrooms, and fungus in general, play an enormous role in entropy,

which is the basis for any future ecological equilibrium that will come

along to reckon with civilization’s disturbances. Fungi actively destroy

historical artifacts, buildings, ships, and mines; they can derail

trains and cause plane crashes, degrade the military’s munitions

stockpile, fuck up lawns, blight entire landscapes of mono-cropped

agricultural staples, make un-sellable up to one-fifth of the global

markets’ annual wood supply, and, through mycotoxin buildups from molds

in our bodies and pathogenic fungal infections, kill us. In the end,

fungus will destroy every last thing civilization has ever constructed.

One of my strongest drives is to eat wild food that I’ve gathered

myself, so entropy, through the processes of fungal decay, is the side I

support. I want everywhere I go to be filled with even more complex

ecological threads, not just because that means more interesting natural

behavior for me to admire, but because that means cleaner, healthier,

and more abundant food available for me and those I choose to share it

with. By taking on a more active role in the ruination of this synthetic

environment (which has been doomed from the start), I support the

creation of the wild places that comfort me.

In the reordering of my worldview, which I consider to be a positive

consequence shaped largely by mushroom hunting, an analysis of place

became more important in my interpretation of crystallized power

relations, the roles required to maintain them, the terrain created to

fulfill it, and the mental conditioning required to navigate that

terrain. When I observe society’s routine movements, it makes total

sense that capitalist non-spaces exist. The technology of speed (which I

argue shapes civilization’s historical development much more than wealth

creation, despite Marxist theories to the contrary) is crucial for the

reproduction of everyday life and has erased place in order to erase

distance. Mostly the human herd moves from point A to point B as quickly

as possible, and with the increased advances in the streamlining of

transportation technology and infrastructure, anywhere in between

becomes merely the nuisance of the daily commute. The inevitable erasure

of place through the desired elimination of distance, coupled with

industry’s disastrous effects on the land, has turned just being in

nature into a spectacle and a commodity. I’ve driven with friends on a

road trip of seven and a half hours to spend a few nights camping in a

pristine ecosystem that should exist right here in the deforested,

shotgun shell-laden hills only a half an hour from where I live. I’ve

seen others save up thousands of dollars to fly thousands of miles to

Antarctica or a tropical coral reef somewhere. I think that by focusing

so much on the exact place I am at the moment and my relation to the

beings that make it up, I live my life in the present moment and am less

plagued by the problems associated with being either past- or future-

oriented. By hunting for mushrooms, a non-surrogate activity that

engages my physical self, I’m also that much more able to remain present

in my body.

Protective environmental legislation, campaigns for conservationism of

environmentalist organizations, and the hands-off approach to those

places deemed unworthy of our participation or protection, are all

negative consequences of fetishizing pure, virgin eco-systems. The

policing of forests with greenwashed, NGO-backed legislation is a threat

to mushroom hunting and rewilding as a practice in general. Laws in

California ban picking mushrooms entirely except in designated and

policed parks where you are only allowed to pick five pounds. At first

these restrictions were suggested by Bay Area liberal mycologi- cal

societies who were reacting to the emerging influx of Asian commercial

mushroom pickers, but later it was picked up by large policy-changing

environmental nonprofits and has resulted in creating a network of

outlaw mushroom hunters and an entire state where two whole generations

have been denied access to and even guilted for what I consider to be

the normal, natural animal inclination to forage for food and medicine.

I’ve heard of environmentalists who’ve supported taking children out to

go berry looking, because picking has a detrimental effect on the health

of the overall forest. It’s my view that these restrictions on gathering

create a dangerous attitude of indifference when it comes to wild

nature, which will lead to the further ecological devastation of the

very places they want to protect. In an effort to keep nature a gorgeous

spectacle to look at, environmental lobbyists pushed for and succeeded

in expanding the budgets of the state’s natural resource apparatuses.

This filled the woods with khakied forest cops whose job is to police my

actions in the wilderness. I think that if this pattern of legally

harassing mushroom hunters continues, then all the practical knowledge

that’s been learned from successful sustainable wild harvesting

practices over successive generations will be lost. It was important for

me to learn how to look for bio-indicators of a places’ health and

strength so I can take the actions needed to ensure it’s future harvest

and to share that knowledge with others. It’s only through the hands of

direct interaction and not the lens of passive observation that intimate

knowledge of an area over time is even able to be honed at all. Not

exactly the same, but similar enough to mention here, were entire

generations of truffle cultivators who took what they knew about

truffles to their deaths in the trenches of the world wars, or the lost

swidden/fal- low farming practices that either died along with the

tribes that perfected them or were outlawed and driven underground

during the long and bloody civilizing process forced upon the original

people of the continent where I live. I don’t want the only people to be

allowed to do what they want in the forest to be capitalists and grad

students and I don’t want subsistence farming and the supermarket to be

my only options for feeding myself. For the most part, picking mushrooms

out of their mycelium is like picking fruits out of their tree, as long

as the tree remains healthy and a few of the seeds end up in adequate

germinating conditions then the fruit will come back next fruiting

season and the tree will have passed on its genes to the next

generation. Even though we know scientifically that picking mushrooms

won’t curtail their continued exis- tence—and other factors such as

competition with invasive species, habitat loss, climate change and

pollution are the real main threats to mushroom populations—they still

police me like a poacher. There are certain unsustainable harvesting

practices, such as indiscriminately raking for truffles or denying a

species their seasonal spore release by only picking the youngest

firmest mushrooms (due to the shipping pressures of their short shelf

lives), responsible for the decline in certain populations and

disruptions in the nutrient exchange cycles of ecosystems. But I think

these problems would go away if there wasn’t a global market and its

required infrastructure to facilitate their transportation and sale and

if there wasn’t the constant grinding economic determinism that forces

hunters to over-harvest.

Mushroom hunting, and the skill sets needed for hunting and gathering in

general, has given me a rewarding sense of autonomy, connection, and

relief when confronted with the problems of food security and nutrition.

I wasn’t aware of just how broad the range was of wild foods seasonally

available to me in my bioregion, or how related their nutritional

profiles and gastronomic qualities were to their terrain. When I shop

for what I can afford at the grocery store, I’m forced to make the

choice between quality or quantity, both of which options pale in

comparison to the nutritional value of a diet diverse in wild foods. So

I gather them myself to supplement my meals, allowing me to afford the

more quality foods I enjoy and not lose out on portion size. I feel that

through fostering this kind of thrifty survivalist self-reliance, I have

far fewer concerns about disruptions in supply chains caused by natural

disasters, or people I could be friends with, I also have something

beneficial, other than my limited defensive capabilities and my desire

to escalate revolt, to offer to the people around me if they ever get so

rebellious that the state does what empires throughout history have

always done, and tries to implement starvation with itself as the

solution. To paraphrase a dead guy I still respect: I spent my teenage

years squatting and traveling. I’ve spent most of the last seven in the

woods. I never forget a plant or mushroom I’ve gathered myself. I know

how to accommodate myself for awhile and I am not the least bit afraid

of ruins. I haven’t the slightest doubt that I inhabit the earth. Let

the bourgeoisie and essential proletarians rip apart their bright new

world before they leave the stage of history, because I’ll carry on

forming better relationships with the natural world, and healthier ones,

right here in this minute, throughout the collapse of the new.

Although I’m aware of the pitfalls of conservatism historically rooted

in rural agricultural-based life, I consider permaculture land projects

to be one of the last, and safest, healthy ways available for me to

spend the rest of my daily life as free as I can. The biggest impediment

I’ve faced, and I know this is true for many anarchists looking to form

their own communities, is money. Land that’s enough to support the kind

of projects I want, but affordable enough to be realistic, is usually

wrecked in some way by industry. Mushrooms are amazing bioremediators

able to clean up dangerous industrial wastes such as petroleum, and

fecal and nuclear compounds. Knowing that I can work with fungi’s

mycoremediation capabilities mitigates my concerns about finding an

acceptable, affordable place to live.

I admit that at the moment I don’t have any skills in growing mycelium,

but I plan to get them. Of course I’m interested in their magnificent

culinary and medicinal uses, but in a much more profound way I want to

practice growing mushrooms in order to begin my own personal my-

coremediation campaign. My fascination with capitalist non-places and my

desire to deepen the natural rhythms I enjoy, means I want to help these

places heal from the degrading effects caused by industry and the

disgusting inconsiderate behavior of the humans who surround me. I care

about the health of the species that assemble themselves into the

biosphere, but realize that I can only act from my position.

Mycoremediation can allow me act, interact, and counteract in ways

previously inaccessible to me.

For those of you who plan on, or who already are, confronting the

architects responsible for this daily horror show directly, instead of

acting in a more caretaker role, mushrooms can offer you up some

powerful and subtle methods of attack that you can to add to your

arsenal of individual reprisal. Caesars have been poisoned by the same

species of Amanitas (Phalloides, Virosa, Bisporigera, Ocreata, etc.)

that you could find in your own neighborhood and use on their modern day

counterparts. I’ve read that they taste delicious before they shut down

your liver and painfully kill you over the next few days. Dehydrated and

powdered, you could carry them around and add them to food and drink,

and because of the time lapse prior to the onset of symptoms, you would

still have time to leave the area before anyone’s the wiser. If

assassination isn’t your jam, you could use those same methods to dose

your enemies with psychedelics. One thing to keep in mind with dosing,

is that cops and soldiers have weapons and react violently to most

situations, but I suppose if you’re going to go into open battle with

the state’s security forces then that destabilization could be life

saving. Imagine watching the CSPAN videos on YouTube of Lindsey Graham

and the other politicians high as fuck on the senate floor, coming to

insane realizations about life live on air. Or the released CCTV footage

of DOJ office workers ripping apart their cubicles and making love.

Hilarious. It’s not only their lives and world-views at stake.

Perfecting the art of isolating cultures and colonizing substrates makes

their whole oppressive physical landscape susceptible to intentional

decay and entropy. Fungi like Heterobasidium, Lentinus, Acremonium,

Aspergillus and Peziza, to briefly name a few, can truly make punk a

threat again.

It’s my belief that the psychedelic mushrooms in the Psilocybe family

and the fungal based synthetic chemical LSD are powerful liberato- ry

tools for the radical process of selfrecreation that I consider

paramount to the anarchist project of freeing your mind. I can disrupt

my socially conditioned parameters through accessing previously unaware

realms of thought and redefine myself by placing focus and intention on

strengthening the drives that matter most to me and choosing to ignore

and let whither those that don’t serve me anymore (and maybe never did).

By undoing myself in order to rebuild myself, I consider the whole

experience less of an ego death and more of an exercise in egoist depth.

While I haven’t used Psilocybes in years, and I certainly don’t condone

their abuse or believe they were instrumental to human evolution, I do

strongly advocate for their use in this way.

I am an atheist and my deeply materialistic worldview has no room for

spooks of any kind. I do my best not to believe in things that aren’t

there and am generally hostile to ideas that can’t be reasoned out or

proven. Although I have a critique of technology and science, I find the

scientific method to be one of the most helpful ways to make sense of

the universe and my tiny place in it. Yet, surprisingly, I find myself

feeling deeply spiritual when I’m on my knees at the base of a Douglas

fir picking chanterelles. I even sort of worship them. When I’ve been

walking in the rain, deep through the woods all day, and I’m tired, wet,

cold, sore, cut up from brambles, stabbed by branches, and a little bit

lost, I feel a kind of personal peace and contentment that comes along

with non-surrogate activities. When I fill baskets full of my favorite

mushrooms it almost feels like my ordeal is an offering and I’m rewarded

for it with an epic harvest by my ancient dark gods, those tangled webs

of filamentous hyphae that in silence have, for over half a billion

years, destroyed and recreated the world over and over.

When approached to share my thoughts about mushrooms and how my

experience with them relates to the anarchist project, I didn’t think it

did. But after exploring the ideas brought up in this piece, I now see

that they have a lot to offer each other and I hope I made some of that

clearer by sharing my story with you. This piece again reminds me of the

mushroom life cycle: my thought process as the mycelium, my story as the

mushroom, the ideas dispersing as spores, you the reader as the suitable

germinating environment, and what you do with those ideas. The

successful spread into new places. May my spores find you well and their

germination spread the collapse of this bright new world in

unforeseeable ways.

(Disclaimer, this is for entertainment purposes only and in no way do I

condone anyone doing super cool stuff like breaking the herd’s precious

little laws.)

Whatever-Veganism by Aragorn!

A mild critique

This is challenging to write because of my mixed feelings on the topic.

I am the person I am going to critique here but I’ll be described by

readers as having no idea what I am talking about. I will speak to

reason, ethics, social cliques, and aesthetics but am no expert in any

of them and will therefore be dismissed out of hand. I have no answer as

to how to how you should navigate the ethics or personal relationship

you have to your food, to the fundamental way you live in this world,

which means that the last paragraph of this article will not sum it up

they way you might hope it would. It will begin with how It’ll end.

You have individual choice about how you relate to what you consume.

This is true of food, of entertainment, and of how you intoxicate

yourself. It is kind of sad, because most of us have really poor

judgment about ourselves, especially our body, our mind, and our

possible futures. We are terrible advocates for our own position. Our

choices should be social decisions that make sense to a shared sense of

responsibility, advocacy, and timing. We should think about what we do

in the context of a set of cultural values that we share with others or,

better yet, that we make with others in a healthy and humane way.

Instead, to the extent that we have people, or, ahem, communities, they

are only truly social in the most transparently shallow ways.

Sociability is more a matter of affect, of how we appear as a group,

rather than how we do group.

There was this great situationist pamphlet series called The

Situationist Times (they are shared as PDFs on libcom) that punched up

the SI in the 80s. I’m recalling a piece that’s been reprinted a million

times, that has a list of social roles, that I first saw in The

Situationist Times. Social workers, architects, teachers, and the like

in a left hand column, while on the right it just says “cop.” On the one

hand is the label of your social role, on the other is what you actually

are. Beautiful simplicity that still sums up two important points. One

is that we are quick to wrap a person up in a word and rightfully write

them off as a result. The other is that this demonstrates an idiotic

simplicity to our thinking and how we, as radicals, see the world. Yes,

social workers are cops but that is not how they see themselves. It is

not how the world at large sees them. Our insistence that we are right

(to call them cops and as a result write them off entirely) is a

hallmark of the role that a radical plays in society. Standing firm on a

position that is both true and, basically, meaningless.

If this article is successful then you won’t change a thing about

yourself. You’ll continue eating as you do, calling yourself what you

were, but perhaps you’ll have a bit more humility in regards to how you

interact with other people. Frankly this article is not really about

veganism at all, but about the kind of logic that radicals find

themselves trapped by. Veganism is but one example, there are many

others. All can be boiled down to a simple maxim: radicals have no

chill. It’s a big turn off that I have spent most of my adult life

resisting, while at the same time being utterly captivated by. Recent

writing on the topic has finally inspired me to write this but it’s been

due for at least a decade as I’ve changed around these issues... as I

have gained chill.

What is true

It is true is that as a percentage, livestock represents close to two

thirds of all animal biomass on earth. Humans are about one quarter and

all wild animals are the rest. Agriculture represents something like 18%

of all greenhouse gases. Industrial agriculture produces 100 times more

manure than municipal waste. It is inarguable that the production of

livestock has a large environmental impact but any measure of the

resource impact of feeding 7+ billion comes up with sobering results. In

short, there is no sustainable way to do it.

Veganism (ie the ideology of a vegan diet) makes three kinds of

arguments advocating for itself: rational arguments about resources;

ethical/moral arguments about life and the value of it; personal

arguments about health, wealth, and aesthetics. It is interesting that

the PETA link I’ll share in the footnotes mostly argues in the third

area. When I was first exposed to vegetarian ideas in the 80s rational

and ethical arguments were primary. Clearly the audience has changed

from those who are rationally concerned about the fate of the world and

their place in it, to something we’ll call more general.

Perhaps this is an appropriate time to bring up my own history. I grew

up in a small midwestern city. As a young punk I was exposed to many of

the different flavors of punk (skinheads, goths, rockabillies, etc.) and

in our town there was exactly one vegetarian (this was the mid 80s.

Times were rather different.). Even though my father claimed to be a

vegetarian when he was a kid (whatever) I was not really introduced to

vegetarian ideas until the late 80s. I was then vegetarian for about 24

years, and of those, vegan for 22. I’ve now been an omnivore for about

seven years. I am the ex-vegan I made fun of for the better part of 20

years and part of this article is my reconciliation with that fact.

What is differently true

I am ignoring a lot of the process details and the argumentation that

allowed me to pass from one position to another because I am reticent to

invite you into that part of my life until you’ve met me half way. I

assume now, more than ever, that we aren’t exactly friends, that we

don’t share a lot of cultural indicators or the easy flow of it. My

bands aren’t yours. My experiences are from a time different than yours.

I hate nostalgia but recognize its pull.

Obviously I am talking around the tritest of points. As my anarchist

worldview has aged it has gradually lost the need for new, young, fresh

faces. Of course I get a lot of energy and excitement from other

people’s excitement, but I no longer require it. I have been

disappointed far too often to count on it in any way different from the

inspiration of seeing a good band, eating a sweet, or feeling the

cloying, pathetic phenomenon known as nostalgia. Yes, it is true, I have

become more pessimistic, but even that has grown boring. What my aging

has really looked like is that the giant steps we used to take, even if

rhetorically, between mountain tops aren’t possible any more. Anarchism,

and the anarchists who try to live it, have become small and hostile to

the kind of imagination I remember.

Partially this is a good thing (even if I am not included). It is good

to stick to your local scene. It is good to do your small witchy

projects that are more about your little sexy crew than about something

world-changing, the size of a country or language space; it is better to

become generationally indecipherable. I am not your friend. Do things

for and with your friends. Fail. Do it gloriously. Leave us behind.

Insofar as this relates to veganism or anarcho-veganism it is better to

write your truth and know that it doesn’t mean anything beyond your

social clique. Don’t confuse yourself about that. But, to relate it back

to my time, we actually took a band that called itself Vegan Reich

seriously enough to believe their utter bullshit about the scale of

their ambition and their stupidity around caring about others. They (the

band and the “hardline” movement) actually related their activity to the

Third fucking Reich and implied they desired to violently implement

their half-assed ideas (they were all in their early 20s) across the

entire world. This was then, as similar ideas are now, the exact same

thing as colonization. This is cossacked men coming to a new world,

declaring the residents to be savages who should be cut down like

timber, and then doing it. Letting the next generation (or 10) deal with

the hand-wringing and concern of how terrible were the actions that

created the world they lived in. It is the perfect example of burning

the world and letting our children deal with the consequences.

And it is why anarchism, veganism, and other associated ideas will never

change the world in any sort of meaningful way. The conservative

(meaning the desire to keep things the same) impulses of liberalism,

progressives, and even Conservatives (ie right wingers of any stripe)

will fight any sort of radicalism when they sprout. This is easiest to

see when the radicalism presents itself as a fighting set of ideas (like

any kind of vegan crusade). Sure, maybe they are right and proper (in

the eyes of the position), but nothing creates a reaction as much as a

holy crusade. This new anarcho-veganism demonstrates this in such

technicolor that maybe even they’ll recognize it.

What is said

Almost every argument made in the defense of anarcho-veganism is

partially true and mostly false. I’ll use the most recent “challenge to

the dominant anthropocentric narrative” as an example. (Biting Back: A

radical response to non-vegan arguments see sidebar [The Anarchist

Library editor: text at end of this article])

In my earlier construction of three kinds of arguments for veganism

(rational, ethical/moral, and aesthetic), these four arguments are in

order: ethical, rational, rational plus, and aesthetic. Before I get to

the specifics of each argument, I’ll talk them through. Each of them has

underlying biases that are interesting and speak to three things: a

model of social transformation, a belief in social transformation, and

an aesthetic sensibility that has changed since veganism of yore.

First let’s define speciesism as it is clearly an important idea for the

author of Biting Back.

Speciesism, like many other isms, is based on a line of thinking which

views certain unchosen traits as inherently superior over others.

Racists think they are superior because of their race, sexists think

they are superior because of their sex, speciesists think they are

superior because of their species. Speciesism arises out of an

anthropocentric view of the world in which an individual holds the

belief that the human is the most important animal and therefore has the

right to subjugate other animals based on species.

Sexism, racism, homophobia, etc are compelling insults when you first

hear them but fade over time as you recognize them as unavoidable

aspects of living in a world filled with preferences that are not your

own, and people who are horrible and pleasant in ways not necessarily

related to how quantifiable their sexism, racism, and homophobia are.

Speciesism is lined up, especially by this author’s tone, as something

one could live with in a human being. While obviously, by their

definition, a specist sounds like lousy company (just as cartoon

sexists, racists, and homophobes do), their working definition of

speciesism probably sounds a lot more like “humans and animals are

different.” Now our fight is about definitions and not so clearly a

story about good and evil.

Now, on to the central points. The first is the question of defining

what is and is not colonization of and for other people. The premise of

this point speaks to the arrogance and obliviousness of radical

discourse in the 21st century. It is fine and fair for us to have a

shared conversation about what is and is not colonization but, like

gentrification, The State, and Capitalism, we are literally on the

outside looking in. We are not the active agents of these enormous

systems of control, domination, and oppression. We—and by this we I mean

99% of the readers of these words— are the victims here. Radicals using

the same terms to describe those they disagree with as those they accuse

of structurally causing the issues, is the kind of flattening and

simplifying of reality that causes radical arguments to be dismissed out

of hand.

That said, this argument is interesting. If you see veganism as a sub-

or counterculture, the phenomenon of native people becoming vegan (or

into metal or whatever) is a demonstration that native people are

humans, who live in a modern social environments where they are exposed

to the same information and subcultures that the rest of us are. The

idea that veganism is both a kind of colonization of natives and one

that natives might also choose is a way to understand that perhaps the

world doesn’t work the way you think it does. Multiple contradictory

things happen all the time. Indigenous people are both independent

actors and victims of logics (like yours) that would disappear them into

the ideology of the frontier, veganism, genocide, and colonization. At

some point indigenous people aren’t the landscape upon which you get to

make your choices, but are makers of some of their own. This means that

many indigenous people see their relationship to food as a spiritual one

that is not parse-able by vegan quantification of life and suffering

into debate topics. Others might agree with vegan logic.

The second point is that factory farming and capitalist logic are two

distinct categories to consider when measuring the ethics of the food we

eat. Everyone who cares about the food they put in their body takes

measure. This measure is along rational, ethical, and aesthetic lines.

All three of those lines tend to value certain parts of the human

project that I think are worth interrogating. One argument that many, if

not most, tend to make around topics of diet as if their goal is to fill

the planet with humans. I think that Ishmael was strongly argued on this

point. It said that human population will grow to use the supply of

food. A common vegan argument is that it takes less agricultural

resources to feed a human with a vegan diet. Both of these arguments are

thinking about a desirable & rational future based on diet. The author

of Biting Back centers their definition of speciesism and hierarchy to

make an ethical argument against animal use and tries to draw a

distinction between “use value” and what we’ll call living value. Biting

Back even goes so far as to say that ATR (After the Revolution)

“elimination of human supremacy on a personal level will create new

relationships with non-human animals— relationships based on respect for

their right to bodily autonomy and freedom from human domination.” Is it

possible for Biting Back to imagine a current relationship to animals

that is respectful and free? To return to the conversation about

indigeneity, most natives would be insulted to be told their current

relationship to non-humans is about “human supremacy” but I’ll leave it

at the fact that ethical arguments go both ways. Finally while the

aesthetics of factory farming are pretty general (everybody hates it)

it’s not as if many people who enjoy it are in love with the aesthetics

around fourth wave booj vegan food either.

Third point. Veganism isn’t inherently anti-capitalist. I’m starting to

feel repetitious here but we live in a hierarchical society. The

definition of society could be argued to include hierarchy in its

definition. While anarchists are generally against hierarchy there is an

important line, or distinction, where we have to understand what our

fight is actually against. Is it a fight against bad words, or behaviors

that could be described using bad words? Is is a snipe hunt that never

ends? Or is it a fight for autonomy, and if so, where does that fight

begin and end? For Biting Back it appears that challenging the “socially

constructed hierarchy of human supremacy that normalizes our consumption

of [animals]” is their project. Fine, go for it, but your tone and

totalizing, name-calling attitude does little but paint you as the new

Hardline.

Finally (and I’m getting bored of this exercise myself ) is the point

that Biting Back is responding to, that “I’m not contributing to animal

oppression because I only steal or dumpster animal products.” Capitalism

is a logic that extends beyond trains, automobiles, and animals. It

objectifies all of the things and turns them into fixed and measurable

quantities. It does not care about what is not quantifiable. Animal

pain, oppression by any definition, or whether you like or hate

something is more or less irrelevant in the capitalist imagination

because it doesn’t measure on the bottom line. To the extent to which

capitalist logic recognizes new features of a commodity, is when new

features add to the value. The rise in “Impossible Meat” has just this

week been added to the menus of both Burger King and Del Taco menus.

Congratulations, your activism around the potential new form of

relationship humans could have with animals has created a product demand

that has been satisfied. Any problem that can be solved by the market

will be.

Obviously neither the dumpster diver nor vegan has meatless meat as a

goal, but it is something being done and for a certain percentage of

people that is enough. For the rest, the line gets muddy. Biting Back

argues, weakly, that the commodity form described above can only be

solved by developing a non-hierar- chical relationship to animals. Great

argument if it were true, but any evidence here goes the other way.

Relationships based on non-capitalist values are extra-capitalist, not

anticapitalist. The market churns on, and those of us who might desire

another way of living have to find it in the cracks and spaces we can

crack open. There are no magic bullet answers like dumpster diving,

stealing, or metaphysical relationships to nonhuman animals.

Pro health

Please note that I am not arguing for any particular diet as a solution

or alternative to veganism. At heart, diet ends up being about a lot

more than healthy bodies, and I am not the judge of your choices.

Identity, whether we like it or not, has a central component that

relates to how, when, and under what condition we eat. To tell someone

what to do with regard to diet is a way to tell them how to be a human.

Someone who demands they know how to do that better than you is

determined to be disappointing.

I guess my point in writing this is to reflect on my own bad choices. I

confused my radical, alternative, choices with correct ones. I didn’t

notice that for many years my extreme position wasn’t so different from

the fat, lazy, american diet I’d privately accuse others of having. I

didn’t notice that the food may have been different but the structural

way I related to others, to the food I ate, to my body in this world,

was similar to others I judged. To put it as pointedly as I possibly

can, no matter what I call my diet I still mostly eat out of packages. I

still “prepare food” in the same way a short order cook prepares food. I

open packages. I am still several orders of remove from how I eat,

relying on capitalist logic to determine how organic, pure, and

wholesome my food it. I trust the labels so much I never check on them

and don’t have the food chemistry setup to really know how many

kilocalories are used or burned. I rarely eat what could be called whole

foods. Whether vegan or omnivore I am a consumer of food. I, like 99% of

the rest of you, am utterly powerless to feed myself if there isn’t a

store involved. I can’t process wheat, animals, or anything beyond

walking through a garden with my fingers crossed.

If I were going to start this entire conversation over it would be

entirely different. I wouldn’t start with what units-of-food I put in my

mouth. It would start with how would I, and my people, feed ourselves

without stores. Id take a sober measure as to what is possible in the

city vs the not-city. Id talk about health, perhaps even from the

perspective of rationality, ethics, and aesthetics. But I am mostly

someone who eats like a bachelor in the city and every option is shitty.

I ballooned as a vegan. I’m slowly finding a way to not kill myself as a

post-vegan. Every option is shitty.

But I will not stand idly by watching a generation of anarcho-vegans

without at least mentioning, to the few who will listen, that spinning

up a moral crusade—with all the personal animus and hard words—has shit

all to do with the stated goal. Be vegan. Be happy enough with your own

choices to live with them. Stop changing the subject to what me and mine

are doing. I’ve seen too many generations of post-vegans become

post-anarchist, post-caring, post- trying, post-friends to not see some

connection between Crusaders and people comfortable in their own skin.

Don’t take my word for it. Look around at your crew. Reflect on the

people you have chosen, those who chose you, and consider if you are in

it for the long haul. I didn’t like the answer when I did this exercise.

I changed.

I wish I could end this by saying that I found a social answer to this

problem. I did not. I found love but nothing deeper. I didn’t find the

love of community, or of belief. I found other broken people to consider

the questions that veganism tried to answer for me over the years, but

never did. I found individuals who tried to find anarchy with me but

failed. I still reflect positively on my times as a vegan, the potlucks,

the friends, but in the final analysis I have to say that those

relationships were shallow and the things we claimed to be fighting for

would be better described with different terms and language-sets all

together.

resources

https://www.petalatino.com/en/blog/reasons-to-go-vegan-in-the-new-year/

https://theanarchistlibrary.org/library/biting-back-a-radical-response-to-non-vegan-anarchists

https://theanarchistlibrary.org/library/andrew-x-give-up-activism

Biting Back: A radical response to non-vegan arguments (excerpt)

1. Imposing veganism is a colonial practice because killing and eating

meat is an essential aspect of many indigenous communities.

One need not look far to realize that there are a great number of

indigenous people who are vegan today as well as a number of indigenous

people whose customs never centered on consuming animals. There is no

monolithic indigenous culture to evoke and therefore the gesture is

meaningless. There are only multitudes of indigenous people with their

own beliefs and customs. Attempting to justify hunting and/or non-human

animal consumption by romanticizing Indigenous people only plays a role

in homogenizing the experiences of all indigenous peoples.

2. I oppose factory farming but there is nothing wrong with killing

animals outside of capitalism.

...At the core of speciesism is a hierarchical relationship between

human and non-human animals (which is refleeted in their everyday use

for entertainment, pharmaceutical testing, and fashion trends involving

their skin and fur) which justifies their oppression beyond just

capitalism. Since the social relationship to non-human animals has been

heavily shaped by capitalism, they are viewed as manufactured

commodities rather than living beings capable of experiencing pain and

suffering. While the elimination of capitalism and factory farming will

end the institutionalized manifestations of speciesism, only an

elimination of human supremacy on a personal level will create new

relationships with non-human animals-relation- ships based on respect

for their right to bodily autonomy and freedom from human domination.

3. Veganism is only a consumer activity and not inherently

anti-capitalist. Boycotts don’t change anything.

Speciesism is normalized through individual participation in a broader

social program that objectifies non-human animals and places them below

humans as commodities to consume. Taking part in this process of

objectification normalizes the existence of oppressive thinking and

ideology in anarchist spaces. It is an incomplete observation to say

veganism is only concerned with food; it opens new avenues of thinking

in terms of our relationship to non-human animals, while challenging a

socially constructed hierarchy of human supremacy that normalizes our

consumption of them.

4. I’m not contributing to animal oppression because I only steal or

dumpster animal products.

Simply put, dumpstering animal products undermines the necessity for

developing personal non-hierarchical relationships with non-human

animals which destroy their assigned commodity status.

Towards an Anthropology as Science Fiction by Dominique Ganawaabi

Not long ago, Primitivism was a significant strand of North American

anarchy. During the period of the WTO protests (culminating in the

Battle of Seattle) and through the Green Scare repression of

environmentalists, John Zerzan’s ideas, about the dangers of technology

were undeniably important to many on the left. Acting as a sort of

fatherly spokesman for the shadowy figures of black bloc and clandestine

eco-saboteurs, he communicated dangerous critiques of civilization, in a

language that vaguely progressive readers could relate to, in interviews

to large media outlets like The New York Times, The Atlantic, and Vice

News. Those were perhaps more hopeful times. Protesters in Seattle were

able to disrupt power in a way that seemed impossible before.

Environmentalists and animal rights activists had a set of militant

tactics that could cause some amount of damage to the systems they

hated. It felt like we were winning and Zerzan was ready to suggest that

even though things are always getting worse, our position was gaining

momentum. “I really feel that we’re getting to the point— and perhaps

this is wishful thinking— that these ideas are about to burst on the

scene.” A time was coming in the future when anarchism would become

mainstream. The situation has changed since then. It can be admitted

that anarchists as a subculture are surely early adopters of practices

that eventually spread to the wider society. For example, the formal

sexual consent model and privilege discourses that were a part of the

scene a decade ago, are now employed by corporate news pundits and

politicians. Not all of us see this popularization as a victory. Today,

radicals are seemingly more concerned with race and gender issues

(mostly playing out on social media) than with globalization or climate

change. Even though all of these problems were and continue to be

equally relevant, priorities change over time. The easiest way to

discredit Primitivism given the current climate would be to accuse it of

racism towards indigenous people. While Derrick Jensen’s Deep Green

Resistance was essentially removed from the anarchist space for taking

the wrong position on transgender issues, Zerzan’s peculiar use of

anthropology has thus far avoided facing similar consequences. The mere

use of the word “primitive” might almost be enough to entice a purge but

this kind of response would also mean not engaging with the things of

value that they have to offer: namely, the idea that civilization needs

to be destroyed just as much as capitalism and the nation state.

What Primitivism gets right is unfortunately difficult to access because

of how its proponents communicate their ideas. More troubling (at least

to me) than the possible racism or sloppy methodology are the rigidity

of thought, totalizing worldview, and unflinching ideological hubris.

Rejecting the trickster spirit in native theory as postmodern is more

objectionable here than disagreements over specific definitions of

wildness or domestication. Coyote has always resisted easy

categorization. Zerzan comes away from a brush with a trickster saying


Going against all that is forbidden, trickster is a comic inversion of

the official story, he deconstructs social limits. As Nanabozho of the

Ojibway tradition, he is alternately the savior of his people, and a

buffoon and sexual aggressor. I offer the words of this essay in

acknowledgment of my place as a non-native outsider, in hopes of

possible, if slight use-value. Anarcho-primitivist in orientation, I

respect and am deeply inspired by the indigenous dimension, past and

present. Postmodernism, in particular and in its more general cultural

sense, has pitted itself against the idea of creation stories and

grounded Trickster realities. The voice of cynicism, isolation, and

technological ungroundedness, postmodernism insists on the “effacement

of historical origins and endings.” Accepting the fragmented and

depthless reality of mass society, postmodernism is the turn away from

traditions, away from origins, to the weightless zone of surface and

word play.

We have to wonder how he conceives of a storytelling tradition that

depends on something other than word play or what mythical worlds can

escape the ethereal plane. How do the post-genocide avoid sounding

dispossessed and nihilistic?

In the space between life and death that natives often exist in, between

dawn and darkness, how can shadows appear without the arrival of

sunlight? Zerzan goes on to analyze a quote from the same prominent

native writer. Postindian consciousness is a rush of shadows in the

distance, and the trace of natural reason to a bench of stones; the

human silence of shadows over presence. The shadow is that sense of

intransitive motion to the referent; the silence in memories. Shadows

are neither absence of entites nor the burden of conceptual references.

The shadows are the motions that mean silence, but not the presence or

absence of entities. The sounds of words, not the criteria of shadows

and natural reason, are limited in human consciousness and the distance

of discourse.

Zerzan’s response:

Which Parisian postmodernist wrote the above, you may ask? None other

than Anishinaabe Gerald Vizenor, whose frequent references to

post-structuralist/postmodern theorists such as Derrida and Roland

Barthes, along with such unreadable passages as the one quoted above,

help to identify him as a writer who is uninterested in the clear prose

of Native stories. In fact, for him, according to Robert Berner,

“traditional tribal narratives are only the inevitably tragic remnants

of dying cultures.

Native people, since the earliest encounters with other cultures, have

always adopted new tools if they served a purpose, practical or

otherwise. In the modern context, French theory is no exception. In the

same way that indigenous warriors would use Spanish horses and lances

against intruders, native writers reinterpret western philosophical

concepts and literary forms from phenomenology, to (coming of age)

Bildungsroman, and indigenous futurisms. Tribal storytelling may often

use simple language, but the meaning of the trickster archetype is far

from immediately intelligible. It could also be argued that the

indigenous influence on postmodernism is far more germane here than the

specter of a poststructural abandonment of traditions. An abhorrence

towards metanarratives is another way to say that hundreds of oral

traditions, in different languages and settings, are preferable to the

Latin “one true church”. The imaginative failure of Primitivism is

related to the distinction between anarchy and Anarchism. The point is

not to adopt the mostly passe assumptions of postmodernism, but to

embrace ambiguity and playfulness as inherently valuable. Maybe he

flirts with death and destruction, but the Coyote also desires

sensuality and indulgence.

Black Seed has tried to distinguish itself from other anti-civilization

projects by emphasizing a strong critique of anthropology and humanism.

This clear distancing from primitivist ideology as personified by

Zerzan, takes place against the backdrop of years’ long conversations in

the green anarchist milieu about the limitations of using an

anthropological lens as the primary way to understand people. Khaki-clad

explorers, who collect dreams and songs to be cataloged with the same

zeal as entomologists who pin butterflies under glass displays, should

seem absurd to those of us endeared to the natural world. Modern Native

Americans continue to be the most vocal about distrust for

anthropologists; even in the age of rigorous ethics review boards,

sacred objects and ancestral remains line the shelves of university

vaults.

This ideology probably should have been retired to the archive a long

time ago but, a decaying Mayan calendar is right every millennia or so.

The rise of agriculture, like any other subject, is worth looking at as

to how it might relate to the formation of social hierarchies. It could

be argued that classifying societies according to their food production

methods is just another iteration of historical materialism, but if we

think of bricolage instead of engineering, that sin can be forgiven.

Every weapon should remain available to us. Anthropology has an

intensely racist past and is embedded in a profit-driven university

apparatus that hasn’t moved far beyond the failings of scientific

positivism. Still, there are some expressions from within this

discipline that are worthy of attention from anarchists. Something left

out of the story is that many of the strongest criticisms of

anthropology emerged from within the field itself. The 1960s generation

of New Anthropology was birthed at a time when radicals were beginning

to interrogate even the sacred assumptions of classical Marxism;

questioning anthropology as science was a necessary conclusion.

Theorists at the time turned to the ideas of Heidegger, Gramsci, the

Frankfurt School, and an assemblage of “unreadable” texts by Foucault,

Derrida, and Lacan to deconstruct and re-en- vision the discipline.

The go-to ethnographer for the more rebellion-inclined is Pierre

Clastres, who views tribal people as Nietzschean warriors always ready

to throw poison darts into the throats of would-be rulers. This is

appealing compared to primitivist claims that hunter-gatherers were

mostly conflict-free proto-liberals. I also, at times, identify with

Chimpanzees more than Bonobos, but anthropomorphism yields different

results than learning a new dance by watching elk play.

Instead of looking at nonwestern societies with the goal of learning

about other cultures, anthropology can be used to find something out

about ourselves. Writer Michael Taussig does this better than almost

anyone. People on the edge of the industrial mono-world can show us how

irrational and destructive this civilization really is. Anthropology can

be an implement to understand mass society. “The Magic of the State” in

particular, provides an example of how ethnology and history can be used

without falling into the trap of believing that we can understand the

development of a nation or a people objectively. More surrealism than

empirical historiography, the essay tells the story of a fictionalized

Latin American country. Examining the mythical facets that produce

conquistadors, indians, and slaves might be more fruitful for

comprehending colonialism than obsessing over exact dates and verifiable

artifacts. The problem with Primitivism is not necessarily that it draws

inspiration from the Other, but its fixation on knowing the final truth

about what living in this world means. Those who use “postmodern” as an

epithet come off as being fearful of the chaotic and irrational side of

wilderness. It’s good that there are questions that might never be fully

answered. The world, disenchanted or not, can still be met with

wonderment as well as terror.

Unlike the vetted anthropologists and philosophers mentioned above,

anarchists when telling stories to an anarchist audience about other

life- ways, can say something different. In many ways, the writing from

our sphere might seem like a poor imitation of what comes out of

university humanities or social science departments (at its worse it

certainly is), but, for what we lose in resources and prestige we gain a

smaller and more accessible dialogue. How anarchists might use the

knowledge of specialists and how to disagree in a way that steers clear

of resentful polemics are questions guiding this provocation.

Primitivisms relationship to anthropology and the lived experience of

Native Americans should be countered with our own speculations.

Nihilism and postmodernism are not flags to wave or some self-applied

identity, but sets of interpretations that help explain our present

situation. In place of an all-encompassing theory composed of the hidden

platonic forms that shape Primitivism, we can create a cosmology of

direct experience. Zerzan continues to represent the worst aspects of

both Christianity and scientism. The great Leviathan, that impulse that

drags free creatures into enslavement, has been usurped by the Behemoth,

a monster so massive and indifferent to our existence that it is almost

impossible to comprehend. Ethnology is just as needed as science fiction

for finding inspiration for other ways to live. We will always come up

with new stories, as well as retell many from the past, as long as we

have desires that are still in motion.

Ages ago, a certain South African bushman, Hochigan, hated animals,

which at the time were endowed with speech. One day he disappeared,

stealing their special gift. From then on, animals have never spoken

again.

Descartes tells us that monkeys could speak if they wished to, but they

prefer to keep silent so they won't be made to work. In 1907, The

Argentine writer Lugones published a story about a chimpanzee who was

taught how to speak and died under the strain of the effort.

Jorge Luis Borges

From Book of Imaginary Beings

Post-Indian Aphorisms by Dominique Ganawaabi

1. Although colonization has often meant violence and tragedy, it is now

mostly characterized by a grotesque boredom. The expansion into the new

world terra nullius (empty space) meant that native peoples were only

valuable as an absence. We reserve the right to remain ever-vanishing.

Asking that the inheritors of genocide stay optimistic is in poor taste.

2. Indigeneity is presently shaped by the external management of memory

and forgetting. First contact, smallpox, Wounded Knee, and residential

schools are the least important parts of our history. Although we are

cold and hungry, our suffering is small compared to yours.

3. A tribe is more than an individual, but something other than a

subculture, political ideology, or nation state. Criminal gangs,

maternal orders, or secret societies are closer to the mark. Indigenous

ancestry does not flow from the blood (as it moves through our veins or

remains in the soil) but from our mucus, phlegm, and bile.

4. Mixedbloods will be buried as deep as their white blood. Fullbloods

will levitate in a sacred dance at the treelines...

Anthropologists will be buried upside down with their toes exposed like

mushrooms.

5. To speak very broadly, white people have been afraid of the unknown,

while indigenous peoples have learned to fear the observable. Indians

have tended to disappear, and the nazarenes seem to over-emphasize the

value of merely existing. Setting each other (or ourselves) on fire to

stay warm is starting to grow a little old.

6. Thus far there has been much talk about sperm quantum, but not enough

about the aura and reflective qualities of native ovum and semen. Those

of us who still exist may feel some hesitation about multiplying the

banal experience of social life.

A female sexual organ filled with several male private parts is emptied,

its contents spread across the grass.

7. If colonists imported the idea of salvation, it is also true that

they brought with them the concept of sodomy. Amaranth, cocoa, and sugar

maple each represent--the venial, the mortal, and the sins that cry to

heaven.

Monotheism and Enlightenment values are invasive species.

The European God has been dead for seven generations but he still

appears in the blurry paranormal photographs of hunters. Ghost signals

represent more than the pareidolia of finding patterns where none exist.

The entity of North America is a vast haunted burial ground.

9. Shamans who sell ceremonial knowledge in economic or social markets

are unforgivable, but the ones who peddle ridicule and make people pay

for it are sacred.

All forms of creativity, such as magic rites and rituals, make the

unseen visible. There is something to learning to sit with the anxious

feeling, recognizing its blurred edges, while being ready to obscure the

light that wants to get out.

10. Antiblackness (social death) is the scar left from being torn from

humanist illumination. Indigeneity is the wound created by being forced

under its shadow. Black people are not reducible to bodies. Flesh is

never just flesh. The indigenous are not equivalent to the land. Nothing

can be heard in this silent field.

11. Because genocide is more than just negation, decolonization cannot

be completed until Christian Europe has been conquered and recreated in

an indigenous image. This can not happen soon enough. If you asked the

average climate scientist, in just the right way, they would probably

agree.

12. White women held in Indian captivity was the earliest form of

American Literature. With some luck it could also be the last.

13. Cultural appropriation should be immediately implemented by the

non-indigenous. Start with headdresses and dream catchers, but follow

through by instituting traditional kinship systems and gender roles that

can count past two. The realization of Full Animism is the most advanced

stage of socialism.

14. Rather than attempt to live among or “work with” wild indians,

allies should concern themselves with awkward attempts at rewilding:

consider holding a mouthful of warm water while scaling a resistant

hill.

15. Decolonialized eugenics will be used to spread bronze skin and high

cheekbones. Syphilis will do the rest.

16. The burning of Notre Dame cathedral is not a sign of civilization’s

decline but of its remaining strength.

17. The term Two-Spirit emerged from the academy via ethnology. It is

oriented more towards Hegelian ideals than to the miasma of native

gender expressions. Living trans and queer lifeways does not require the

legitimization of a historical precedent.

18. Postindian identity resonates beyond the auditory traditions. We

exist as texts, bibliography, and index. Perhaps most importantly, we

inhabit words that are impossible to speak except in whispers or

piercing shouts.

We might have more in common with glimmering silken webs than with the

stone reliefs of Olmec statues.

19. Experts have claimed that the savages make no proper distinction

between cultural and religious categories. A new term might be created

for the process of coerced atheism. Some of us still play dead or peer

out when we should be sleeping.

We expect that if nightmares can come true, than dreams are just as

real.

20. Rationality tells us that this world is probably slipping away, we

aren't exactly reveling in that prospect but even if it's too late for

traditional knowledge to reverse it all, we feel that impermanence is

not a curse.

After a few mournful howls or wimpers we can turn and trot away.

The Anpoa Duta Collective: Part 1

Interview with Aragorn!

This collective was interviewed for The Fight for Turtle Island. Here we

are able to include more of the wide-ranging conversation with them.

ADC2: When we started this we were living in the city but we were also

doing a lot of base-building, organizing work in Dakota communities.

Part of it was around treaty rights stuff, some of it was around land

access, sacred sites, just a lot of different work.

A!: The weird thing about native stuff, right, is like, as soon as you

touch a native thing, people assume that you know everything about all

the 500 nations.

ADC: Right. Right!

A!: So, where does the Sioux, how far east do the Sioux go?

ADC1: That depends on who you ask and in what era. The broadest

traditional territorial borders that I’ve heard of, traditional meaning

prior to contact, were as far east as Michigan, as far south as

Missouri, as far west as Montana, and as far north as Manitoba. The

great Sioux nation was one of the largest political bodies that existed

prior to contact.

ADC2: Part of that too is that different people, historians, linguists,

look at different markers for how to define territory, which is a mobile

thing. It fluxed, it changed. So in Michigan there’re places that have

Dakota names, there’s a Mendota, Michigan; I think there’s another place

that’s a Vedonteh[?], which for us is a really significant concept—it’s

where two rivers meet. So you see some of these references in Michigan.

So that would have extended, that would have fluxed, so for example,

basically there’d be relatives in North Carolina. So if you look over,

there’s people who speak a language that is mutually intelligible. If

they spoke to us we would understand them, and if we spoke to them they

would understand us.

ADC1: Their story is that, not much before contact


ADC2: Yea, it was in the 1700s when they were going on a trading

expedition, they were going out east, and basically doing this large

loop from Minnesota out to a lot of the Great Lakes, over to like, New

York, essentially. And then they were going to go down the coast and

back up, and that’s just the trading route that they were on... It

doesn’t even seem like they were exploring, that was just their trading

route. They were exchanging things, exchanging ideas and information,

and they ended up being in North Carolina when settlers were arriving

and getting established and basically got stuck there. So there’s this

community of Dakota people.

It gives you an idea of how far not just territory but influence spread.

There’s this talk in places in Mexico that down there they have

catlinite [?] or pipestone, which is one of our sacred stones up here.

We have records up here of people having stuff from them that would’ve

been traded up and down the Mississippi


ADC1: like chocolate


ADC2: ...Yea. So it’s really difficult to quantify what the territory

would’ve been.

A!: So I’m sure of the large, dozen or so groups that are scattered

throughout the u.s. many peoples are subgroups or related groups


ADC2: Right

A!: ... so, Anishanaabe are mostly down the St Lawrence river through

Wisconsin,

ADC2: Through the great lakes A!: Through the great lakes, even to

northern Minnesota, but are not necessarily known in oral records as

being huge travelers, like the Odawa are known for moving around and

pushing furs on French people or whatever but not necessarily for going

to South Carolina. ADC2: Right.

A!: But of course to have a set of stories or an understanding of what

the world was like pre-contact for me becomes a really dangerous

conversation because it basically is owned by anthropologists.

ADC2: It is. So, we reference a lot of oral stories that we hear from

people, so one story that we’ve heard elders tell is their first contact

with white people, which actually occurred, in the story, on the shores

of Lake Superior.

ADC1: Actually it’s not specified. It could be Hudson Bay. They’re not

sure.

ADC2: It could be Hudson Bay, but how they reference the body of water

is how Lake Superior is referenced today. We think it’s Lake Superior,

but it could have easily been Hudson Bay


ADC1: I think it might have been Hudson Bay


ADC2 :... there are some... just going back to [baby interrupts] we also

reference oral traditions from other people, so Hauten Oshone [?] have a

dance that they say they got from Dakota people, so... there’s a

historic... like, there would have been an alliance between us and them

that extended up until 18


ADC1: ...up til the war of 1812. ADC2: Yea. which Dakota people fought

in, and so... For us it’s this really fascinating idea, trying to look

at what that might have looked like, or how these alliances worked in

the past, which gives us an idea of how they could work today, right?

But yea, so anyway, there’s that reference, but there’s also a story,

it’s one of the creation stories, so... like I mentioned there’s seven

bands, there’s seven fires of the [ochenti shakoien SP!?]. So, one of

them references Podoteh [sp?] as like this site of creation for one of

the ochetis, or one of the fires, so for them it’s the confluence of the

Minnesota and Mississippi rivers. That’s referenced in a number of

different ways as basically the center. So, when we talk about where

that traditional territory would’ve extended, right now a lot of people,

like the furthest east that Dakota people live contemporarily, like

within traditional reservation communities, I think Prairie Island is

the furthest east, at this point, and it’s on the border of Minnesota

and Wisconsin on the Mississippi river. And then you have people as far

west as Montana.

A!: Right, it’s huge.

ADC2: So if you look at where the center is, then you have to go further

east.

ADC1: Food’s ready.

ADC2: So that’s just one idea of where like, but like Minnesota Mico-

che [?] is identified as the homeland, that’s how the homeland is

defined for the Dakota, who are, you know more the woodland style,

traditionally. A lot of people, when they think of Sioux they think

Lakota, which has a very plains culture and style, but for us, some of

our ceremonies would have been closer to the ceremonies of Anishanaabe

than they would be to the Lakota. So like we have the Wakanachipi [?],

we had permanent settlements that we lived in, participating in

different, like sugaring camps, berrying camps, so that kind of gives

you a framework.

A!: Yea, most of that’s new information for me. I mostly thought it was

all plains.

ADC2: Yea, the eastern part gets over-shadowed, and I think a lot of it

goes back to, out of the whole Sioux nation, we were the first ones to

come in contact, we were the first ones to fight.

A lot of people break up history by war, in different ways, so there’s a

US/Dakota war, 1862, and then there’s Red Cloud’s war, and these other

wars. But for us it’s one long war. There’s accounts of that starting

even earlier, like in 1858, that there were some people who declared war

then. And for us, there’s one man...

ADC1: one of our personal heroes,

ADC2: yea, he’s been vilified throughout history. Inquidutah [?] is his

name, and he’s vilified because he’s seen as this person who committed a

massacre of white people in the 50s. He participated in the war of 1862,

and he was already an old man at that point, he was probably in his 50s,

right? And there’s records of him participating in just about every

battle from 1862


ADC1: ...from 1858


ADC2: well, 1858 was I guess the first attacks, he conducted a lot of

raids against traders and when the war of 1862 broke out he was actually

part of those wars, and when the US forces drove people into South

Dakota, he was part of those battles. And he continued fighting all the

way through, he was in some of the last battles like


ADC1: Battle of Little Big Horn... ADC2: Actually one of his sons is

thought to be the one who killed Custer, because he was the one who got

Custer’s horse, and traditionally if you killed someone you got his

horse. So that is a point of pride, that was...

A!: I imagine it is a point of pride! (laughter)

ADC2: . that was a Dakota man. So he was living among the Lakota. So

what’s interesting is, in american history, at the time of Crazy Horse,

Sitting Bull, these guys were like vilified, right? They were later

either captured or killed, they were either imprisoned or they were

executed. So then they become these safe heroes, because they were

conquered. So now we can celebrate their prowess. But Inquidutah was

never captured. He died an old man


ADC1: ... a free man


ADC2: . in his sleep. He was up in Canada, and he died in his 90s, an

old man, having lived a life full of battles. He was never conquered,

and became and stayed a vilified figure. So like I said, when we started

that paper with a group of people, we kind of put it up almost like

throwing our colors up, like “this is who we are,” and trying to find

other people in Dakota communities who were in the same place. And like

I said it was a CrimethInc-style project... we didn’t want to put our

family names on it, we didn’t want to put our personal or traditional

names on it, we just wanted to put this out there and see who responded.

Partly because there’s people who agree with each other but have family

beef with each other or there’s community beef, or whether you’re

traditional or not, or whatever it is, so we were essentially like “f

all that” let’s throw up our colors and see who rallies, right?

A!: Have you succeeded? Do you have some peers?

ADC2: Yea, I feel like as a result of that 


ADC1:... it took a little while and it didn’t happen in the moment. It

had consequences as something that had happened in the past. I hear

people referencing it. But I didn’t hear it at the time. And of course

when you’re trying to compose something and you’re trying to get

submissions for something like a paper, and of course nobody writes, and

you’re hounding after people, then eventually it’s just not worth it

anymore. and we moved on.

ADC2: Well, it was just a small group of us and we were trying to pass

it on to other people. We wanted it to be more than just a handful of

people doing most of the work, so we put it out there so it’s not just a

handful of us bottomlining it. And it just didn’t happen. And we

realized that it did what it needed to do. Like, we found each other


A!: How many issues did you do? ADC: Six.

A!: I’ve never seen it.

ADC2: Oh, I’ll give you some copies. There’s some copies that we don’t

have anymore... I mean, they disappeared off the shelves. People grabbed

it, people read it. Even people who didn’t like it, they read it, they

responded to it. There’s some narratives, or maybe, lack of a better

term, there’s some “discourse” that we put out there... I think, I don’t

know, it’s hard to quantify


ADC1: Yea


ADC2: There were times when we were capturing things that were already

happening 14.51 we just put a voice to it, and there’s also times when

we started conversations.

ADC1: Like a really great example involving Inquidutah: so we were

destroying at... I can’t even remember what event it was, but a man came

up afterwards and he shook both of our hands, and he said “thank you,”

and we said “for what?” and he said “Inquidutah was my grandfather. This

is the first time anybody has ever written anything good about him.”

A!: Wow.

ADC1: Yea. And I was like, I knew who this man was, I had known him

throughout my life, but I never knew that his grandfather was

Inquidutah. So that was very interesting, and it has started a

conversation about heroes, who our heroes are, and who are the people we

want to emulate, and why


ADC2: and why we celebrate or don’t celebrate them. Why do we

celebrate... why does everyone reference


ADC1: ‘Cause someone got mad at us for that article.

ADC2: Yea.

ADC1: .like, “he was not a nice person.”

ADC2: ...and it’s fine. That’s also something to say. Like, there’s

things that he might have done that we don’t agree with now, but... and

there was an interesting conversation that came up... I mean there were

lots of interesting conversations...

I feel like there were just certain things that we were tapping in to,

things that were happening, conversations that were happening, that we

just allowed people to put on to paper.

A!: I’m going to change the topic.

ADC1: Mm hmm.

ADC2: Yea.

A!: You’re sober.

ADC: Yea.

A!: That’s unusual.

ADC1: Yes.

A!: So for you it comes from CrimethInc background


ADC1: I mean, all said and done, I don’t... unlike many people

specifically from this community I don’t have a super intense family

history of alcoholism, in that, by the time that I was born, it had all

been sorted out. So my family had all gone through AA and everything,

but you still have the historical trauma factor of alcoholism having run

in the family and the different ways people had coped with that over the

course of years. For me... There’s always the personal component—I don’t

like the idea of not being in control of myself and so therefore I don’t

like the kinds of things that put me out of control of myself,

especially in public situations.

But the thing we talk a lot with our kids about is substances being used

as a tool of colonial oppression: that it’s been given to us

specifically for the purpose of making us stupid. And it is through the

influence of these substances that we have in some cases signed away

huge tracts of land


A!: is there an example you use when you make that argument?

ADC1: Sure. A great one (laughs) is the first treaty known to have been

signed between the Dakota people and the United States government, the

treaty of 1805. And part of... I mean there’s a lot of really weird,

interesting things about that treaty. The guy who was in charge of

getting it signed was actually an official representative of the US

government. All kinds of weird stuff was part of that. But one of the

bribes that was handed over to get—only two—community leaders from a

confederation of seven different nations, was four kegs of whiskey. So,

these things being used as bribes, as tools, to get us to concede to

things that we would normally never do


ADC2: It’s also interesting, the way of politics around sobriety. It’s

very different I think from anarchist circles. In anarchist circles,

sobriety is, in a very real sense, about whether you drink alcohol or

don’t drink alcohol, like with straight edge: it’s very clear cut. Out

here, there’s people who will have a glass of wine, who will have the

occasional alcohol, but they don’t drink, they don’t party. That’s the

line we try to support, ‘cause I feel like it’s where a lot of people

are at out here, too, this idea of not getting drunk, not being under

the influence.

ADC1: [baby sounds] Education, regardless of what you’re abstaining

from, is not historically that successful.

ADC2: right. Also it’s a much more political idea. So when we translate

it into Dakota, when we talk about it, it’s abadezah [?], that’s the

word. And all that really means is to be clear headed, to have a clear

mind. So we use that with our kids, in a number of ways, not just around

drinking alcohol... like if you’re drinking alcohol and partying you’re

not of clear mind. But it’s also when your head’s filled with

propaganda, when you’re doing things and you don’t know why you’re doing

them.

A!: I believe ideology is a word for that.

ADC2: Right. exactly, that’s exactly it. So that’s to give an example of

why I was talking about our program, it’s what we try to do, it’s like

stepping stones, or building blocks... and the idea of abadeza[?] which

a lot of our kids can easily understand to refer to not getting drunk,

not getting trashed. it’s an easy connection.

Then when we talk about dancing for the American flag at powwow... When

we ask why they do that and they don’t know how to answer us, that’s

another time we talk about abadez[?] “you’re not understanding why

you’re doing something, or, when you sing a flag song, what you’re

actually singing about.” So there’s a number of examples we use to break

that down, and part of it goes along with language. Like, a lot of

people talk about learning the language as a decolonizing act, and

language as a radical act. And in and of itself, I don’t think it is.

You can learn the language and still support the US government.

ADC1: A really great example of this actually is from when my mother

first came back here and was trying to do language work in the

community. What’s common in native communities, especially in language

or vitalization projects, especially in urban or academic areas, where

there’s this total idolization of elders. Elders and fluent speakers are

like, you know, the bees’ knees! So she comes back and she’s trying to

do language work out here, and she’s working with this one elder who is

trying as hard as she can to get her own grandkids kicked off of the

rolls because of per cap money. Per cap money was just becoming a thing

at that point, and she’s like “well, they’re not really Dakota, so they

shouldn’t be... ” and you know, of course, this is in the language,

right?

So she’s having this conversation in the language, and then proceeds to

talk about the founding of the church at Upper Sioux, and how the people

who are coming in right now are not from the original church founders...

It was this incredibly colonized, christian, money-centered thing. So

you can have all these conversations in the language and it doesn’t

change them. ADC2: Another example is from one of the last issues we did

of our paper. There was a project where people were translating the

star-spangled banner into Dakota. As you can imagine there were some

people who had a very “why the hell would you do this” reaction, and

there were other people who were very supportive. So we really wanted to

give voice to the people who were critical of the project. Of all the

things to translate, why that? Really breaking it down, critical

consciousness, and really having a clear mind and asking “why are we

doing this.” There were a number of submissions in response to our

callout, and one of them was really, really powerful. It was around a

drum group, where there were a number of people talking. And they’re

asked to sing a song to honor veterans. So they chose what is

essentially a flag song, a song for the united states. so it’s not

actually a veterans’ song, it’s a song for the US


A!: It’s a nationalist song.

ADC2: and not a good nationalist, but an imperialist nationalist. And

one person refused to sing it. They were like, “well, why won’t you sing

it?” and he says, “well, do you know what the song says?” and the kid

repeats all the words, and they’re in Dakota, so he says all the words.

and he says, “so what does that mean?” and the kid says, “it’s honoring

veterans.” and the guy says “no.” and he translated line for line, “what

you’re singing is ‘may the flag of the president fly forever over our

homelands.’ that’s what you’re singing when you sing that song. and if

you don’t know the language you don’t know what you’re saying.” So it

was this powerful moment where you could see why learning the language

can be this moment, but only if it’s... so for us it’s this very

Fanonian concept. Revitalizing culture, revitalizing language, but if

it’s not done within a certain context, it becomes empty, hollow... It’s

through struggle, through that kind of critical perspective that it has

more meaning but also creates meaning. The stories change, they adapt to

your current situation.

A!: I have to admit that for me, Oda- wa, which is usually seen as a

subset language of Chippewa, or Ojibway... I mean, there are may be a

hundred Ojibway speakers left?

ADC1: More in this state, I think, I think there’s about 500.

A!: Maybe. But we’re talking that hundreds would the total number left.

And if we talk about Dakota broadly... my guess would be thousands, but

low thousands.

ADC1: Other way around. There’s five speakers in the state of Minnesota.

ADC2: Five native speakers who are fluent.

A!: That really surprises me.

ADC1: Yep.

ADC2: For Lakota, in South Dakota, and is a different language,

ADC1: different dialect ADC2: Yea, there’s probably closer to about

1000. There’ve been actual surveys. For Dakota, especially in Minnesota,

where we are, there’s very... at one point there were ten... ADC1:

there’s more in Canada. there’s maybe maybe 150 speakers in Canada.

ADC2: Fluent speakers? Oh I don’t think there’s that many.

A!: And then you compare all this to Dine (Navajo) and they’re huge...

ADC2: They still have a first language.

A!: Exactly. So, obviously, talking to Klee, the frame of reference is

just so tremendously different.

ADC1: I was at a language conference in South Dakota, last minute,

invited to speak on this panel of people who were studying language. I

was talking just about language programs and whatever, and finally this

one elder asked a question, he says “do you think our language will be

able to continue?” “yes...” So I was the last in line, and everyone else

gives these super upbeat answers, like “absolutely! if we put our nose

to the grinder, we’re totally going to be able to do this, this is an

important part of our identity, we’ll be able to pull it together.” So

finally it comes to me at the end, and I was like “no, actually. I

don’t. I hate to be the downer on this one but one of the primary issues

with this is that Dakota as a language, Dakota has an ideology does not

make any sense, within a capitalist, colonial framework. So if you’re

going to beholden to the US government, if you’re going to be loyal to

the capitalist system, if your dream is to continue to wear blue jeans

and drive trucks, Dakota isn’t relevant. It’s not relevant to the world

that we’ve created under these circumstances. Because an ethnified

people with their own language doesn’t make any sense. It doesn’t make

sense to speak Dakota to maintain some rudiments of culture. It won’t

work.”

ADC2: You only need to look at the last 100 years to see


ADC1: ...to see proof of that


ADC2: Yea. The language has been rapidly and dramatically declining. In

combination with assimilation into culture.

A!: But this is a strange phenomenon. At least in the Navajo context, it

seems like every other generation recommits to either the language, or

no language.

ADC2: Yea.

ADC1: Yes.

ADC2: I think the biggest difference with the Navajo is you have... with

the Dine you have a very specific context with a very large land base

and a large population, and also relative isolation from outside

culture. I think that ...

A!: absolutely.

ADC2: that’s changing with technology, as people have more ready access

to the internet. And there’s different ways that people are going to

react to that, it’s not going to be a black or white thing, but... yea,

I think that isolation’s been a protective factor for them vs here, and

where there’re checkerboard reservations, or small reservations, change

happens much more quickly.

A!: Yea.

ADC2: That’s like ... there’re linguists who spend their whole lives

studying this.

A!: I’m going to change topics. ADC2: By the way this is wild rice with

some venison and some other stuff in it, so... if you want more we have

plenty.

A!: Thank you. So the thing that is really interesting to me. There’s

this project I’ve really been wanting to do for a while is to sit down

with people who’ve left anarchism, left radical politics


ADC2: Nice. Awesome.

A!: ...left counter culture. Sit down with them and ask them


ADC1: why


A!: Why’d you go?

ADC1: [laughter]

ADC2: Fascinating project.

A!: So... at some point that’ll happen. As it turns out, that’s this

conversation too!

ADC1: Absolutely.

A!: So far in this set of interviews— this is the third—and all three of

you are done with anarchism. I mean, I haven’t heard that come out of

your mouth yet, but you’ve been checked out. You haven’t been a public

person or figure in that space in years. So that’s really interesting to

me that in all three cases... Gord Hill (Zigzag), Lyn Highway (do you

know her?—she was part of the Coast Sal- ish insurrectionary

anarchists...) but more or less their work is elsewhere. ADC2:

Elsewhere, yea. Interesting. The public persona thing is interesting: I

never really wanted to be a public persona.

A!: That’s the problem with being a political prisoner, right. You don’t

get a choice in the matter.

ADC1: In all fairness, you may not see yourself as that, but I totally

thought I was dating some mobster the first several times we went out

because everyone knew him. And not just like, local people in

Minneapolis, but like, we’d go to Wisconsin, or to Winona, or wherever

and people would recognize him. You were a public figure in that people

knew who you were

ADC2: . but not as in have a public persona that I promoted or


ADC1: That’s true, but you were a very well-known person active in a

given community [talked over]... ADC2: But the difference... and some of

that was very intentional. I try to do this wherever I go, but I was

developing relationships and connections to people. A lot of that, like

in Minneapolis, growing up there and having a very wide and diverse

social network, and as a result of that


A!: You were born and raised in Minneapolis?

ADC2: Yea. Part of it was trying to make connections. For me it’s always

been like, like part of a big family, trying to figure out how do all

these pieces fit together, all these relationships, trying to figure out

what’s our connection. So you end up realizing how small this world

really is, right? Like, it’s really funny, like your dad... We actually

met your dad.

ADC1: Yea.

ADC2: I forgot to mention this to you but we ran into him around

Bulgaria A!: I’m so embarrassed.

ADC: Don’t be embarrassed.

A!: So you passed through punk and punk-influenced anarchism.

ADC2: Yea.

A!: ... which is not necessarily the CrimethInc thing. How did that

happen?

ADC2: I don’t know how it happened. A!: You mentioned that town, Winona.

ADC2: Yea.

A!: There was a scene there?

ADC2: There was, yea. I’m trying to think. Part of it was having a real

dedication to being in Minnesota.

[The Anarchist Library editor: poem included on same page at the end of

the interview]

The Beauty of Things

To feel and speak the astonishing beauty of things-

earth, stone and water,

Beast, man and woman, sun, moon and stars-

The blood-shot beauty of human nature, its thoughts, freanzies and

passions,

And unhuman nature its towering reality- For man's half dream; man, you

might say, is nature dreaming, but rock And water and sky are

constant-to feel Greatly, and understand greatly, and express greatly,

the natural

Beauty, is the sole business of poetry.

The rest's diversion: those holy or noble sentiments, the intricate

ideas,

The love, lust, longing: reasons, but not the reason.

Robinson Jeffers

My Mind Below this Beautiful Country: Part 2

Interview: Goat

Talsetan Brothers Share their stories of Land Defense and Indigenizing

This is the second half of the conversation between, Ishkadi and Lo’oks,

the Tahltan brothers. The first half was published in Black Seed #5.

This conversation was recorded in the recently constructed Healing

Center at the Unist’ot’en Camp. For the past 8 years, the Unist’ot’en

clan of the Wet’suwet’en Nation have been occupying their traditional

territory and preventing government and industry from entering the land

to build pipelines that would transport tar sands and fracked gas to the

global market. The Unist’ot’en Camp has served as a site of inspiration

where land defenders from disparate regions can meet, network, plan,

learn from the Unist’ot’en strategy, seek wisdom, and heal.

Days at camp are spent tending the infrastructure of the site, being

with the river that has been protected as a result of the imagination

and responsibilities assumed by the Unist’ot’en, conversing, cooking,

and laughing. Nights are spent beneath the stars, huddled around a fire

with fellow comrades, sharing stories, planning, and laughing. While I

was at the camp this winter I met Ishkadi and Lo’oks, Taisetan Brothers

who are regular occupiers and visitors of Unist’ot’en, and whose

territory is 4 hours drive north from there. They had stopped over at

camp en route to their land. One night as some of us were drinking tea

and eating snacks, they began to share stories about their home, their

language, and their work defending their territories from industry.

Several of us stayed up late into the night with the brothers, riveted

by their stories and their particular cadence as a duo. What is printed

below comes largely from what they shared that night. This conversation

was made possible in part by the unique space created by the Unist’ot’en

where indigenous and settler radicals can encounter each other and share

their stories.

Ishkadi grew up colonized on Iskut Indian Reservation No. 6, in so-

called Northwestern British Columbia, in Tahltan territory. He has been

involved in direct action and blockades in defense of his people’s

territory for over 10 years. He is pursuing the reclamation of his

indigenous identity.

to’oks was born in a hospital outside of Tahltan territory. He grew up

pursuing guidance and wisdom from his elders, especially his grandma and

grandpa. In his spare time he is crafting a diabolical scheme to

dominate the world. He calls it “World Peace.” Ishkadi and Lo’oks are

brothers and they are the two youngest speakers of Tahltan in the world,

of which there are currently less than 30 speakers.

Ishkadi—Our culture is deeply enriched with community support, it’s all

communal. Our people did everything with each other. Nowadays, it’s

different because of that colonial question, that hole, that dark cloud

above us. Cause when they put us in reservations, when they took

individual kids to residential schools, when they forced kids to go to

day school, they were attacking those kids individually. But when they

took individuals to the reservation, they colonized a whole community.

The after affects of that are many different things. And on top of that,

they slapped on a system that would suit the colonial interest. So

instead of having our traditional governing structures, they abolished

that. They made it illegal to do it that way. Suddenly the potlatch and

the sundances were illegal to do, and those were really influential for

spiritual purposes, social organizing, name giving and so many things

that went along with that. Then when that happened, they took the

Indians in the reservations, then they put a voting system in to elect a

chief in council. The chief used to be appointed to that position

through their merits, through their good will, of how well they treated

people, how they did good for the whole nation, not just themselves.

They’ve enacted a completely different kind of leader and put the word

“chief” on it, and that’s the band chief, band council. And they just

have jurisdiction on the reservation, it’s pretty much all they have. So

now we’ve got that form of colonizers. You can’t really call them

colonizers; they’re just dealing with the colonial situation.

Lo’oks—We never had our cultural teaching from our parents. I mean we

had remnants of it, but never had a full grasp of it, so our

grandparents were the ones that would teach us. And that’s a huge

generational gap, we’re the grandchildren and we’re learning from our

grandparents. There was a gap in our traditions through our parents, we

did learn from our grandparents but it was kind of hard because there

was a generational gap. There were certain points that took a while to

take in, certain teachings, certain questions we would ask our

grandparents that would never come up because we were using our English,

we would think it would help but it didn’t. And our uncle who was living

with our grandparents at the time, who spent most of his time with our

grandparents, he’s their son, and he would fill in those gaps, along

with our aunties and sometimes our mother as well.

Ishkadi—Me and my brother were learning Tahltan language together, our

buddy Oscar was learning Tahl- tan by himself, and we hooked up, and the

three of us started to discuss the language as a trio. Brother has been

the one that learned it a lot earlier and a lot quicker, so he would be

the one who would come to us, he already had the Tahltan mindset. And

then Oscar would come in with his linguistic side, and I would come in

with an anthropological, ethnographic vantage point, and we would

decipher the language, the three of us. And what that did was help us to

understand the way our ancestors think. Their worldview, everything they

did, their whole language was land-based. There’s a word that our

grandpa told us that was a high Tahltan word, it’s Es-di yige konelin.

Tatsetan/Tahltan: A Land Based Nomadic Language

Lo’oks—Well what that means is Konelin, means “nice place.” You see a

good landscape or a good lookout, a place that has a nice, natural

scenery that you just like, you say Konelin, it’s a nice place. And

Es-di yige, is under, Di is in mind. We can all understand memories, I

can say I remember this place or land, but the thinking of our people

long ago, it’s all embedded in our language with this is Es-di yige

konelin, it’s expressing that you’re happy. When you come back to your

home that you grew up in, you feel happy like you’re back at home. You

feel happy in your mind because you remember the landscape. When you’re

walking the land, you create a cognitive landscape, a cognitive map of

the area. And when you leave somewhere else, that part of the land stays

with you in your mind. We would all say, “I remember this place,” but

it’s a piece of landscape on this earth that’s embedded in our mind that

will never leave us.

Ishkadi—The part that got us was Esdi, “my mind.” You picture the mind

in western culture and psychology, they all have a different view of it,

as something to dissect and everything. And this is the thing about

English language, and the difference between English language and

Tahltan language. English is a very separatist language, a double tongue

language, and on the good side the English language could create things

like poetry and really cool stuff that has double meanings. And on the

bad side, the darker side, the evil side, they come up with stuff in

business, and law, and the courts, where the English language could say

one thing but mean numerous other things. I like to call it, the

double-tongue language, because of that. But the Tahltan language, it’s

more of a connection and more expressive. It’s a language of feeling,

connection, and the whole concept of it is Es-di yige konelin translates

to ”My mind below this beautiful country.” It implies the cognitive

landscape, the mind as part of the land. It’s the beautiful territory of

the mind. The underneath, below it, it also insinuates that the sky is

part of the mind. That connection is based in that one word, Es-di yige

konelin, three words put together, one phrase. That is an example we use

all the time of how Tahltan language connects us to the land. So to

further that argument, if you mine the land, you are mining our minds.

You’re ripping out the mountain within our minds. This is another form

of why we do what we do, why we take part in actions, why we defend our

territory. Because we’re not just defending it for the sake of defending

it, there’s a holistic reason, a more spiritual reason. Our ancestors

defended our territory, and it says that in the 1910 Tahltan

declaration, that we defended with our blood. And in this day and age,

industry or government, whatever it is, they come in, they do their

work, and then they tell the Tahltan colonial council, “This is

happening. Take this deal, the deal won’t get any better.” That’s a far

cry from “we protect this with our blood”.

Lo’oks—Another example is “Going for skin.” Like when we say “I’m

going,” you say Desal, like “I’m walking, going by walking.” And that’s

the only means of transportation, going about with your two legs. So

coming and going has to do with walking, and there’s different ways of

using that word for walking, you say you’re coming and going. So when

you say, “Ejidesal”, ejide means skin.

Ishkadi— Like hide.

Lo’oks—When our people were going hunting, they were providing food for

their families, their communities and all that, but it’s the skin that

has a huge importance in providing us clothing and keeping us warm in

certain temperatures and also protects us from a lot of things. Clothing

in actuality is very important for our survival, and our people’s

everyday needs. From making clothes, backpacks to carry the food,

moccasins. So skin was a huge thing that made the community function and

do the things they could do for everyday life.

Ishkadi—Skin was even used for our, what they call huts. We lived in

huts traditionally, no houses. Skin was part of what we used for tarp,

tarpleen.

Lo’oks—When the early explorers and surveyors came into the territory

and they brought in wall tents, they didn’t use canvas, they made wall

tents out of skin. They had moose hide, like a wall tent made out of

moose hide. So they adapted to many new things, but skin was a huge

thing. Without skin it’s very hard to survive, it’s very hard to do all

the things without skin. So when they go out hunting, it’s like when you

say, “Ejidesal”, it’s “I’m going hunting.” But it literally translates

to “I’m going for skin.” So going hunting, you’re going for skin but

there’s also a bonus involved, you get food to feed your families.

Ishkadi—Yeah, and hunting insinuates a hit or miss. When Westerners

trophy hunt, they go out and if they don’t get nothin’, they come back

and, “Ah, I got skunked this time.” But our grandparents and our elders

knew where the migration routes were, so when they went out and there

were no animals there, they would say, “Okay, they’re not here. We must

go to this other place where they would be this time of year.” So they

would walk there. The longest our grandpa told me that they were out of

food was two months, and that was two months of going to different

routes until they finally got a moose, I think it was a couple of moose.

And when they say food they’re just talking about big game, because for

two months they had to be eating something. They were eating rabbits,

squirrels, small animals that were around. That too is that whole

relation with the land is with Ejidesal, they did not just go out for

hit or miss or trophy hunting, they went out for survival. So they knew

everything about the land. Our grandpa, or our uncle, we could ask,

“Where is a good place for moose this time of year?” And he would tell

us, “Walk up this river or this creek, you go up this mountain, right

there, you’ll see ‘em.” And you could see how our ancestors knew more

than just where the animals would be. They would walk in a huge, vast

territory that’s many, many square kilometers. It wasn’t just a couple

of hectares, they were walking miles and miles. And they would learn

what animals eat what, what kind of plants they would eat, what kind of

other animals they would eat. And they knew all of that by their

relationship with the land. So if they looked around and could see what

kind of plants were in an area, they knew what kind of animals would be

there. Or if all of a sudden there were plants that were plentiful in

one area, they knew, okay, this certain animal is gonna be here, this

year or next year. So it was a guarantee that they were going to get

something back by their relationship with the land.

to’oks—We were doing more than just the language. We were going back to

the land and doing everything our grandparents did before, which was

going out on the land and being one with everything. Knowing everything

about the land our grandparents walked on, and continuing with that.

Indigenizing, Land Defense, and Decolonization

Ishkadi—I think the last major part of our indigenizing was protecting

the land. Prior to that we were still working, getting paid to “save our

language.” Since our decolonization route, we’ve started to do all this

work that wasn’t just separating from colonialism. We had to fill that

hole, we had to fill that void with the ways that were taken from us. We

had to pick up where we left off. We had to find out a different route,

‘cause throughout our teenage years we wanted to be musicians, we wanted

to make money with music and do our thing that way. But we never really

had backing. It wasn’t until our whole years of trying to regain,

reclaim our identity then that became something else. Now we’ve got a

foundation. Our next adventure in decolonization, as they call it, is to

reclaim our territories, to reoccupy our land. ‘Cause that has to be

done. We’re on our territories, unceded and unsurrendered. If we still

live on a reservation and we don’t flex that, that’s not very strong

until we get out there.

Lo’oks—I liked our area the way it was. In 2003 rumors came around that

more development was coming in, more mines, and then those rumors became

reality. I was surprised that no one was resisting, that there was

absolutely no resistance. It wasn’t until a couple years later, around

2005, that more of this stuff started happening, then our people started

blockading. I really enjoyed seeing that, I took part in it as much as I

possibly could. I didn’t want to see the land destroyed before I was

able to go on it. And I didn’t want to have areas on the land that I

could not go to, and when it’s already cleared out and I could go to it

and it’s not the same as it used to be. I liked the way it was,

untouched and still able to roam around freely and not worry about any

destruction happening to it. I liked our home the way it was already.

Ishkadi—Then this company was doing some test drilling around the

territory looking for coal. And we heard about it, and at this time we

were still working our jobs, “saving the language.” We were being paid

to revitalize the language, and it was cool at first, that we were

getting paid, but our actions would pretty much eliminate our jobs from

there because of “political unrest.” But we were still employed under

that, which was important too. We were told about these things happening

up in the Klappan, and they told us to show up. So we went up once, and

it was just people camping out. What they were doing was just drumming

their songs and singing. The elders, the Tl’abane Keepers, went up to

the company camp and said, “We’re giving you guys an eviction notice,

you have 24 hours to leave.” Singing their songs, playing their games,

but the companies did not leave. They kept on going. “Oh that was cute,”

the companies thought. “No big deal, sure you want us to leave but we’re

invested in this place.” They did that for about a month. And we just

heard about it. Fortune Mineral was gonna utilize this road, but the

Iskut Band maintained that road so they weren’t allowed to use it. So

our Uncle John actually came in and stopped them, blockaded them.

Everyone told us, “Go help the Uncle!” And he was already there, getting

wood for fire. One of our elders told us, “Go!” And he gave us a ride to

the blockade. So we went, and by the time we got there, it was Uncle

John and a few people there, and Uncle John already set Fortune Minerals

out, sent them back. They had to fly their gear in. That was the

catalyst for us. “Oh wow, we were a part of it while everything was

happening.” The peak of it was our core people. The initial actions were

ten years previous, everything was hunky dory for the time being. A

couple days later I heard something was going to happen, but that was

it. So eventually we went up to the Spencer Flat, Tokadi we called it,

everyone else called it Sacred Head Waters. We went up there to the

camp, and next thing you know we heard that there was a drill less than

three kilometers from that camp. That really pissed everybody off, and

that turned into “We’re gonna occupy that drill, we’re gonna stop them

from working.” And we did. Tl’abane Keepers went there and stopped the

drill. So the workers got sent back to the camp and that drill was in no

use, it was still in the ground.

to’oks—We had a lot of the elders, and some of them came in and out to

visit, some of them stayed there the whole time. There was a core group

of us who were there the whole time, and then some other people who

would come stay for a few days, go back out, and come back again. Some

of the people would come visit, but go back. I can’t really say off the

top of my head. We also had settler support, which was a huge thing for

us.

Ishkadi—And it was new.

Lo’oks—We had settler support previously, but it wasn’t much, and they

really couldn’t do nothing because they came in with more of an

environmental aspect of things, not so much an indigenous aspect of

things. At the time, there was a separation between environmentalists

and indigenous situations. This was when things started to change, when

environmentalists started to realize that they had to work together with

indigenous to protect the environment. So this was new for us when we

finally had settler support that had a huge role with the whole thing.

Ishkadi—The settlers there, the non- indigenous folk, they were active

bodies, but also they acted as media, so they helped us out in that way

too. I mean it wasn’t 100% that they were the reason why it happened,

but a large amount of it was due to them. So we took over that drill,

and we took over another drill, then later on Fortune Mineral still

wouldn’t leave after we took over two of their drills. There was no

active drilling happening for a time, and then eventually we blockaded

their camp, their headquarters. Then the government called and said,

“Get out, it’s too confrontational.” In this whole thing, it wasn’t just

the Tl’abanot’In people and the industry, Fortune Minerals. It wasn’t

just the industry versus the Indians, the First Nations people. The cops

were there, they set up an RCMP detachment. And when we took over those

drills, the cops were the first ones to come. And they confronted us,

they said, “This is bad, what you’re doing. We’re impartial, we’re here

to keep the peace.” But they were just enforcing the colonial rules.

They were enforcing these permits that were bought on our territory:

unceded, unsurrendered, Tl’abanot’In, Tal§etan territory. Some of the

workers in that camp were Tahltans. It was really funny because one of

them was worried that we were gonna hurt them or whatever. They were

pretty much a sellout. The other Tahltans were cool, they were like

“Whatever.” They left after that, but since then they never came back.

That point was big for us, because not only did we stand up for

something, it gave us purpose to tell white people who came in and

colonized our people, “No, you can’t do it.” It did something to us. It

gave us a sense of purpose. And that was a final part of our

indiginization, our decolonization, uncolonizing. That was the part that

made us want to live for something, gave us a purpose, gave us something

else. We knew what we wanted. We knew what we had to do, it felt right.

It’s not going to school and making money off the system, and it’s not

going to the bootlegger and drinking our life away, snorting our life

away. It’s not that, it was something else. It’s climbing a mountain.

It’s learning and understanding the language. Dissecting it, back and

front, all around. It’s looking for an animal and knowing where it’s

gonna go, and bringing that animal home and feeding your family. It’s a

bigger thing. And from that moment, I, myself, have gained so much. I

could do that, I could tell the colonizers “No, you’re not allowed on

our territory.” I also quit all that drinking, and all that crazy

lifestyle, the drugs that I was involved in. I quit from that moment on,

I’ve had a sober life since. And also, I did a lot of things from that

moment because of the confidence that we built from that moment. And now

our next adventure is to reclaim and occupy our territory. To move out

there. All year, forever, ya know? Do something with it.

We Have Nothing To Say: Technology and the Economizing of

Communication by Goat

How forget that? How talk

Distantly of ‘The People’

Who are that force

Within the walls

Of cities

Wherein their cars

Echo like history

Down walled avenues

In which one cannot speak.

- from Of Being Numerous by George Oppen

We are tired of going untouched and unsatisfied, dragging ourselves

through our pathetic lives that have no meaning, that grow more

meaningless with each passing day. We sleepwalk from our bedrooms to our

jobs, to restaurants and to dinner parties, and we know what will

happen, which means we know that nothing will happen. This society,

filled with so much money, so many straight lines, so many people, so

much paperwork, so many machines, and so little verve, so little life,

so little friendship, so little to discuss, so absent of touch, so

absent of the sensuous, so absent of meaning, is revealing its own

bankruptcy using the very scientific instruments it created to dominate

the world with in the first place. Our wager is this: the

dissatisfaction with the promises of the techno-capital utopia are

spreading like a virus and this world cannot bear us becoming conscious

of this fact.

But the virus spreads as doublethink. We want to clarify this

dissatisfaction to clear the way towards destroying this world (or

getting out of its way so it can destroy itself.) To accomplish this, we

are enlisting Jean-Pierre Voyer’s An Inquiry into the Causes and Nature

of the Poverty of People and Jacques Ellul’s The Technological Society.

We also refer to a contemporary text that seems to be heavily influenced

by both of the aforementioned texts, Guillaume Paoli’s Demotivational

Training, as a reflection of how intimately enmeshed the market economy

is with technology.

Voyer’s inquiry demonstrates that the fundamental misery of modern life

is the absence of communication, the misery common to all slaves of all

ages. He demonstrates this by revealing how the exchange and flow of

money become the actual living part of this world, while the humans in

it behave as money and commodity mules, living always under the weight

of money, and moving around the products that money buys. In the

process, we cede all of what makes us human, what makes us a peculiar

species in the world, to the economy, and to money. What makes the human

peculiar is that we talk and tell stories. But in this world the stock

market, the economy, and our bosses always have the last word. We see

Voyer as the bedrock of this essay because we agree with his simple

expression of the most fundamental problem of this world. The essential

question is this: why is it that we have nothing to say?

We want to spend the space of this essay revealing that Voyer’s critique

is so fundamental and essential because it is a critique of

technological society, although he almost never mentions technology. We

draw from another French thinker Ellul, to help us with the task. Ellul,

writing at the same time as Voyer’s mentors and collaborators, the

situationists, said in The Technological Society that “it is useless to

focus on capitalism” because technology is secretly the autonomous force

running the world. There is a tremendous amount of complexity in the

relationship between technology, capitalism, and money. This an attempt

to lay these connections and their consequences bare.

Defining technology and technique to bring about their ruin

Whenever we see the word technology or technique, we automatically think

of machines. This notion...is in fact an error

The Technological Society

It was the textile machines that destroyed what was left of the

independent agrarian way of life in rural England. It was an oil rigging

machine and the greedy policies administered by dozens of office workers

that caused the Deepwater Horizon mess and devastated the lives of

creatures in the Gulf of Mexico. It was dams, canning factories, and

modern fishing boats that drove salmon and the people who enjoyed a life

together with them on the West Coast of North America to the brink of

extinction. It was the atom bomb that scarred modernity with Hiroshima

and the still present anxiety of thermonuclear war. And this doesn’t

account for the deep psychological and spiritual trauma for which

technology is also responsible. Tinder, Marvel movies and fair trade

coffee aren’t worth the price to be paid for modern life. We must

destroy the belief in the inevitability of technological progress.

To understand what is necessary to destroy a belief, we have to

understand what it is we believe. Fortunately for the owners of this

society, the common parlance usage of the word technology is a

deception. The belief in the transcendent power of technology is deeply

entrenched but naming it is especially elusive. Technology is usually

used to describe things like gadgets, planes, satellites, and

smartphones. Using Ellul as our guide, we will show that this definition

excludes the majority of social arenas and disciplines that are

mobilized to make gadgets and machines a part of this world. Most of the

technological world is best represented by the image of the office

worker at their cubicle pouring over data and documents, managing the

tension of reproducing technological life. This deception is

catastrophic for theory; it completely obscures the interdependence of

high tech on social organization and the management of the masses. The

defenders of this society are desperate for these domains to appear to

be separate. For example, Americans are made to believe that they live

in the land of free enterprise, free of control imposed by the dreaded

‘planned economy’ of Communist regimes. This is complete bullshit. How

else could Amazon Prime guarantee next day delivery without the

fastidious management of a planned global economy? Managing workers

through organizations and human resource departments, the gargantuan

quantity of gadgets that masses of workers can produce, assembly lines,

media spectacles, propaganda, and the use of psychoanalytic techniques

by marketing firms form a unified logical whole, with common

characteristics. In addition, each of these techniques are made possible

by, and are contingent upon, the functioning of all the others.

Technology-as- gadgets then—its common parlance use—doesn’t do

technology justice. This is a furiously technical society. Efficiency

and order lurk around every corner, and every corner that blocks the

movement of progress is erased. So while we don’t always think it

necessary to come to terms to start essays, we do think it is necessary

to spend a bit of time discussing what we talk about when we talk about

technology.

All humans use tools, but not all humans worship the study of the

development of technical operations. There is much confusion about this.

All human groups tend to perfect the techniques that make their way of

life possible. Gatherers know where certain patches of plant foods exist

on the land, when they will be ready to harvest, the best means of

harvesting, how they must be cured if necessary, and the various ways to

prepare them. This technical operation or technique is perfected and

made efficient more and more with each time it is performed. Techniques

are economized; they tend toward efficiency.

Techniques are not necessarily material tools, but they are also forms

of social organization like the division of labor or magical practices.

For Ellul, the essence of technologies is that they are means to an end

that are perfected over time. They answer the question ‘how?’ This is

why magical practices are technologies, or techniques. They are means to

some end within their cosmology.

In most societies, social and spiritual practices create an assembly of

obstacles to the pursuit of technical operations as an end in itself. As

a result, the accumulation of technical operations is limited. The

modern world is just the opposite. There is at present almost nothing in

the way of the pursuit of technology for its own sake. Technology, that

“neutral” phenomenon, as people often say, slips into every aspect of

modern life. In order to convey this interrelated and interdependent

character of the technological order, Ellul adopts the monolithic word

technique. We use it as well, but we will use technique and technology

somewhat interchangeably from here on to refer to the totality of

technical operations in every field of human activity for a given

society.

For Ellul, technique grows out of the machine, and the machine is the

pure expression of technique. But eventually the machine becomes a minor

element in the vast realm of technique.

[L]et the machine have its head, and it topples everything that cannot

support its enormous weight... Everything had to be reconsidered in

terms of the machine. And that is precisely the role technique plays. In

all fields it made an inventory of what it could use, of everything that

could be brought into line with the machine. The machine could not

integrate itself into line with nineteenth-century society; technique

integrated it. Old houses that were not suited to the workers were torn

down; and the new world technique required was built in their place.

Technique has enough of the mechanical in its nature to enable it to

cope with the machine, but it surpasses and transcends the machine

because it remains in close touch with the human order. The metal

monster could not go on forever torturing mankind. It found in technique

a rule as hard and inflexible as itself. Technique integrates the

machine into society. It constructs the kind of world the machine needs

and introduces order where the incoherent banging of machinery heaped up

ruins. It clarifies, arranges, and rationalizes; it does in the domain

of the abstract what the machine did in the domain of labor.

This shows how technology based on the machine spreads its logic through

every detail of life in order to ensure its survival and reproduction. A

similar confusion between tool and the obsessive study of the totality

of tools exists with the way the word market is used in common parlance.

The old market, the ‘bazaar’, was face-to-face, happened at a certain

designated time and place, and was generally based on haggling. As Paoli

shows, the market of the olden days is in every significant aspect the

opposite of the market-economy. The global market, The Economy, is

impersonal, unlimited by time or space, and all products are

pre-exchanged with determined prices. You can purchase solar panels

manufactured by Asian slaves at 3am from the comfort of your Tempur

pedic mattress without communicating with a single soul if you have the

money, a smartphone, and internet. This peculiar similarity in the way

technology and the market are misconstrued as something ostensibly

limited, but are in fact pervasive and totalizing, points to the deep

intimacy between capitalism and technology.

Technique creates a new kind of human, one who is flexible, or is

endowed with “plasticity” as Ellul says, because this new subject is

forced to let go of values as the steamroller of modernity transform

reality at an ever accelerating rate. Technique refers to the relentless

logistical operation that characterizes modern life. Each of us are

enjoined to coordinate, manage, and interpret the awesome power of

techno-capitalist society in order to survive. But logistics are the

pinnacle of military thinking, not social life. In this world all

spontaneity is integrated as a detail into the dominant plan. And

without spontaneity, creativity, ecstasy, and freedom begin to be

bleached of any meaning.

Marx’s technophilia: why the left will never be able to critique

technology

As late as 1848, one of the demands of the workers was the suppression

of machinery... [M]en still suffered from the loss of equilibrium

brought about by a too rapid injection of technique, and they had not

yet felt the intoxication of the results. The peasants and the workers

bore all the hardships of technical advance without sharing in the

triumphs. For this reason, there was a reaction against technique, and

society was split. The power of the state, the money of the bourgeoisie

were for it; the masses were against.

In the middle of the nineteenth century the situation changed. Karl Marx

rehabilitated technique in the eyes of the workers. He preached that

technique can be liberating. Those who exploited it enslaved the

workers, but that was the fault of the masters and not the technique

itself.

The Technological Society

We had the opportunity to see the well known autonomist Marxist Silvia

Federici speak in late 2018. At some point in her talk Federici said,

“I’m not against technology”, and then spoke at length about all the

problems with technology—pollu- tion, land dispossession, social

disintegration, etc. And yet, she prefaced this with, I’m not saying I’m

against all these things. “Don’t get me wrong gang. I still worship

where you worship.” Federici’s hedging of her position about technology

is representative of most of what we know of the contemporary left.

Through Ellul’s lens of technique, which includes the techniques of

managing massive organizations, we can also see why Marxists need to

stay on the side of technology in order to envision their coordination

of the vast industrial technological apparatus in their com- munized end

game.

The fundamental premise of every political doctrine, to the extent that

they refer to a person’s disposition on capitalism, have already

conceded to the technological imperative. Demotivational Training

observes that people talk about the economy the way they talk about God,

demonstrated by the imperative embedded in almost all discourse, “How

can we get the economy to grow?” This imperative is disguised language

for technological progress, for new means for creating new products.

This would be obvious if it wasn’t obscured by Marxists, most of whom

are still focused on how we will communize these means when the social

war finally places them in the hands of what’s left of the proletariat.

Communists, #acceleration- ists, tiqqunists, appelists, communi- zation

theorists, and most anarchists (i.e. the radical left) carefully avoid

taking anything less affirmative than the ‘neutrality’ position on

technology because they still need to organize people at some level to

continue producing the goodies of modern life that they seem to think

they won’t need to give up after their revolution. As the Situationists,

still the gold standard for the best of Marxist theory, said, “[Advances

in material development] could be turned to good use—but only along with

everything else... You can survive farther away and longer, but never

live more. Our task is not to celebrate such victories, but to make

celebration victorious—cel- ebration whose infinite possibilities in

everyday life are potentially unleashed by these technical advances.” We

find this optimistic attitude about technology more or less preserved in

contemporary post-situationist theory such as Post-Civ: “Primitivists

reject technology. We just reject the inappropriate use of

technology.most technologies are being put to rather evil uses—whether

warfare or simple ecocide—but that doesn’t make technology inherently

evil”, and #accelerate “an accelerationist politics seeks to preserve

the gains of late capitalism while going further than its value system,

governance structures, and mass pathologies will allow.” Sneakier still

is the pamphlet, “Instructions for autonomy”, which suggests that

autonomy is something to be learned from The Party. Obviously autonomous

actors need instruction (read: coercion) for operating

technocivilization, because too many of us would just leave this world

behind if we were given the chance.

All this lightweight theoretical work on technology neglects the

fundamental mantra of technique, that because it was possible it was

necessary. It is this logic that has unleashed technique and the means

of production on humans and on the planet. It is impossible to separate

the appropriate use of any technique from its full spectrum of

possibilities, for it is the investigation of the full spectrum of

instrumental possibilities that reveal each individual technique. Each

stage of technical development becomes dependent on the prior stage

either continuing or becoming replaced with something more efficient.

Either way, the basis of huge inputs of energy and human plasticity must

be reproduced in order to reproduce the means of production. This is

especially the case with advanced industrial technology like microchips

which are only possible as a result of several previous stages of

technical development. To ensure this continues it is paramount to

nurture a belief in progress.

Coercion, management, and organization are inseparable from the physical

means of production. Marxists and the left have to ignore the reflection

of the machine in social relations because they need to somehow

coordinate the masses of workers in their vision of communism or com-

munization. The only way to reproduce modern industrial technology is to

guarantee the production and reproduction of a whole cornucopia of raw

materials whose distribution is spread throughout the planet. It is

impossible to envision accomplishing this without coercion. Marxists

need organization for their theory to be coherent which explains their

superficial attitudes about technology. If the Marxists began a thorough

investigation of technology, they would be forced to abandon their

position!

The Situationists distinguish themselves, along with anarchists, for

never having made calls for the seizure of the state, but they still

were proponents of workers councils that would seize the means of

production. For Ellul, the means of production only exist as a result of

techniques of the state. “The basic effect of state action on techniques

is to co-ordinate the whole complex. The state possesses the power of

unification, since it is the planning power par excellence in society.”

After all, the state funds massive scientific ventures that open the way

for technological progress and defends them with its courts and armed

bureaucrats. It follows then that there simply is no difference between

seizing the means of production and seizing the apparatus of the state.

Here is Marx’s debunked idea of seizing the state still alive and well.

Many people take no issue with positioning themselves as anti-capitalist

and anti-state, but they seem to lose their nerve when confronted with

the question of adopting an antitechnology position. Let’s be clear:

most of the gadgets we (are forced to) enjoy today are the result of the

state, capital, and technique. There will not be the communization

conception of ‘flows’ of humans moving with joy and spontaneity from one

site of production to the next to continue reproducing the world as we

aesthetically and formally experience it. Just about everything must go.

We cannot continue to have the material stuff of this world if we want

to abolish this world. Abolishing this world necessitates abolishing its

means of production.

Techno-Capital Spirituality

Nothing belongs any longer to the realm of the gods or the supernatural.

The individual who lives in the technical milieu knows very well that

there is nothing spiritual anywhere. But man cannot live without the

sacred. He therefore transfers his sense of the sacred to the very thing

which has destroyed its former object: to technique itself. In the world

in which we live, technique has become the essential mystery

The Technological Society

Money truly is god.

An Inquiry into the Causes and Nature of the Poverty of People

Voyer provides us with a critique of the Situationists. His critique is

that the Situationists didn’t scrutinize Marx with enough care and as a

result the owners of society were able to defeat them by recuperating

their ideas. Thus we must make Voyer’s critique of Voyer, which is to

say, to critique the Marxism in his thought. The aim here is to arrive

at a critique that is beyond society’s capacity for recuperation.

Voyer continues Marx’s investigation of the commodity by taking

capitalists at their word. This allows him to articulate capitalist

cosmology. The ritualistic activity of capitalists, their ruthless

pursuit of profit, invests money and commodities with universal Value.

We encounter Value everyday as the pre-established price of all the shit

we buy. “Value is the ability that products of work have to exchange

themselves in thought without any human intervention.” Marx spent

hundreds of pages turning Value into something real, and in one sentence

Voyer reveals it as nothing more than a spook. From here, Voyer provides

us, as Marx and the Situationists never did, with an adequate definition

of what a commodity is:

a product of work that accomplishes exchange in thought, a product of

work that by itself makes an abstraction of everything that could be an

obstacle to exchange, a product of work gifted with spirit, a

pre-exchanged[1] product of work. “Value” signifies nothing other than

the thought of the commodity. “Commodity ” signifies nothing other than

a thing that thinks and talks. Some sing and dance...but all of them are

really saying, underneath their apparent chatter.: “I am only in

appearance bread, in reality I am wine, iron, cotton.” In fact what they

say is even more basic, more general, they say, “I am only in appearance

bread, wine, etc. In fact I am three dollars.” What do commodities think

about? Money. Money is the idea that is in every commodity.

At the core of Marxist thought is the focus on the relationship between

the means of production and the immense accumulation of commodities, the

economy being the collection of the totality of all the means of

production and commodities. For most Marxists, just as trees, fungi,

rain and animals make forests, humans make the economy. It is natural.

Voyer begins his inquiry by showing that the economy is nothing more

than anidea that runs on belief, that only exists as belief, and thus,

does not really exist. The economy is the idea of a force that

economizes everything. This is precisely what technique does to

everything it touches. Here is where the commodity form and its general

abstraction in the economy dovetail with Ellul’s conception of

technique. Each of these ideas point to the application of efficiency to

every sphere of existence, including human communication. Voyer says:

The economy is the visible part of the commodity, the visible part of a

world in which things practice humanity—practice universal exchange

using humanity as a means. The invisible part of the world is the

silence of man. The real part of this world is not the visible but the

invisible part. The reality of this world is not the selfserving blabber

of commodities but the silence of man. Thus in this world the true is

only a moment of the false.

In our secular society, technological progress and money are God. Their

pursuit ennobles the pious industrialist. Money acts as the holy spirit

dwelling within all commodities, the means of production is the body of

God on Earth, and the technological God issues new means and innovations

for sustaining the economy’s endless growth.

But Voyer dismisses this fundamental relationship between the commodity

and technology because he did not scrutinize Marx’s belief in the

liberatory potential of technology. In a footnote of An Inquiry, Voyer

ridicules Ivan Illich and those who focus on tools for not understanding

that, in our world, tools are first of all commodities.

For this economist, as for all economists, he has no doubt that the

economy is the reality of the world, and that changing the world will

result in a change in this reality. But in fact, the reality of the

world, that is to say, the reality of its unreality, is not the economy

but the commodity. The reality of the world is not “an industrial mode

of production,” nor a market mode of production, but the commodity...

The economy is the bourgeois conception of the commodity, the bourgeois

conception of the unreality of the world. And so the conformist

economist Illich would like to reduce the central question of publicity

to asimple question of tooling, and to hide first, that the modern tool,

before being a tool, is a commodity and, second, that what is

fundamentally wrong with the modern tool is what is fundamentally wrong

with the commodity.

The problem is that Voyer is using a flawed conception of the tool as a

tangible object, separate from other means. As we have noted, Ellul

expands the definition of technology from the emphasis on tools

epitomized by the machine, to the totality of techniques and their

pursuit, including techniques of social conditioning and social

massification. This complicates the inquiry into the nature of the

commodity because it means that the commodity is a technique, a tool, a

means. The commodity could not have been unleashed without the immense

accumulation of techniques, and vice versa.

Capitalist technique is designed to make things that think about money.

Seizing these techniques—the state, the factories, the media apparatus,

public transit, laboratories —and projecting them into even the most

optimistic of circumstances, as theorized by communization theorists,

will still result in producing things that think. Voyer either misses,

or regards as insignificant, that the universal equivalence that Value

and the commodity realize is a masterwork of rendering human

communication efficient. It streamlines and harnesses the communication

of billions of wage-slaves. If the commodity is a product of work that

is pre-ex- changed, machines pre-accomplish all meaningful work, so that

a commodity is in fact a pre-accomplished product that is pre-exchanged.

At last, this society has realized its end game of having no reason to

speak or do anything. Texture has finally been abolished! Marx became

enamored with the power of the means of production and the specter of

his mistake is still with us.

The similarity we noticed between these two texts is apparent to anyone

reading them side by side. There is an endless number of analogies

between Voyer’s inquiry into the commodity economy and Ellul’s

investigation of technique.

Ellul says, “Technique transforms everything that it touches into a

machine”::“The essential characteristic of the commodity is that it

first reproduces its own conditions, its perpetual self-justification,

the new unknown worlds necessary for its development, and that nothing

ever can oppose it in this domain where it stands unrivaled to the point

that it is capable of destroying the world if nothing essential opposes

it” says Voyer.

Voyer says, “The civilizing role of the commodity is to socialize in its

horrific way things that were not social”::“Technique cannot be

otherwise than totalitarian. It can be truly efficient and scientific

only if it absorbs an enormous number of phenomena and brings into play

the maximum of data. In order to coordinate and exploit synthetically,

technique must be brought to bear on the great masses in every area”

says Ellul.

Ellul says,“[Man] is a device for recording effects and results obtained

by various techniques. He does not make a choice of complex, and in some

ways, human motives. He can decide only in favor of the technique that

gives the maximum efficiency. But this is not a choice. A machine could

effect the same operation. ”:: “Alienation is not the alienation of

work...it is the alienation of the essential human activity—exchange—and

the alienation of that which in this activity can be alienated, the idea

of exchange. The more exchange becomes general and universal, the more

it becomes the affairs of things and the more humanity becomes simply

the spectator of the human activity of things.” says Voyer.

Both texts are an attempt to challenge the totality at the depths of its

foundations and in the process their critiques corrode into one another,

each from their particular perspective. The key point of connection is

their analysis of the economy, because economics can be defined (to the

chagrin of economists) as “the science of efficient choices.”

The technological God is the deity that fills the breach opened by the

bourgeois revolution. He is the true man behind the curtain. Destroying

this belief in technological progress, and its various calling cards -

that everything is relative, that we believe that we don’t believe

anything anymore,[2] and a superficial apathy masking warm feelings for

progress - is the prerequisite to the downfall of this society.

Techno-pessimism: Ellul’s Technological Society and Paoli’s

Demotivational Training

...if a sudden change should occur and public opinion should turn

against technique...the whole social edifice would be at stake.

The Technological Society

We are living in an era in which technology is continually rousing

partisans into its morality, a morality of means, of the ever more

purified pursuit of means. “[Technique] evolves in a purely causal way:

the combination of preceding elements furnishes new technical elements.

There is no purpose or plan that is being progressively realized. There

is not even a tendency toward human ends. We are dealing with a

phenomenon blind to the future, in a domain of integral causality.” We

see here on the one hand an articulation of degraded postmodernism with

no beliefs, no ends, no goals, and on the other a technological morality

that frames everything. “[E]verything which is technique is necessarily

used as soon as it is available. This is the principal law of our age.”

These traits of technique—the pure pursuit of means as an end, and the

immediate implementation of newly discovered means—are more pernicious

than they first appear to our post-modern secular eyes. The concern of

this world is to figure out how to get things done. These are the laws

built into every conversation, every computer, every blueprint, and

every tool. Effects and affects are always peripheral, secondary,

useless. Experience and feeling are always at the mercy of the cause of

technology.

An instrument as complex as a personal computer is obviously an advanced

realization of the “integrated causality” Ellul names, and it simply

cannot exist without a technologically advanced global domination

apparatus. It is representative of the depths of the prevailing naivete

that we can’t imagine or realize what it would take to produce and

reproduce a vegan burrito, but some still think computers will magically

keep producing themselves in our utopias. This isn’t to suggest adopting

a morality with regard to technology, it is to demonstrate that we are

already intensely moralistic about technology; most people think it is

good (while retaining an un-confessed pessimism). This belief simply has

to go so that new ethics regarding technology and tools can blossom.

One approach to establishing these ethics can be found in Demo-

tivational Training. This text has a considerable amount of theoretical

overlap with The Technological Society, in particular Ellul’s pessimism

about the utter lack of means for recourse in the face of the power of

the global techno-capitalist system. But Paoli sees this pessimism as a

peculiar kind of ethic and form of self-defense within a system that is

desperate to economize, integrate, and motivate all of us.

The crux of Paoli’s argument also shares an analogy with a small, but

fundamental concept describing the nature of technique that Ellul calls

the ‘self-augmentation’ character of technology. People have a tendency

to simplify and perfect their tasks and work, which ostensibly should

improve quality of life over time in an ecologically balanced culture.

But within the unified totality of the technological apparatus this urge

is inverted against us. Each increase in efficiency adopted within a

particular technical field slowly spreads and augments the totality of

technical operations. It is the problem of how reforms rescue the sick

society they intend to change, applied to the most granular tasks. As

technique continues to integrate everything, it becomes more and more

dependent upon the minor improvements of the technical world produced by

its workers.

Paoli’s title Demotivational Training mocks the raging war within

corporations to figure out how to extract creativity from their human

resources who have grown remedial as a result of living in the very

world technique creates! Paoli slyly employs the degradation of life

against itself in a desperate attempt to find a glimmer of hope for

resistance. To hasten what he theorizes as the epidemic of demotivation

plaguing late capitalism, Paoli coaches us to fight the drive to improve

our work environment and allow the system to slowly degenerate. In the

closing section of Demo- tivational Training, he argues for us to

“cancel the project” because radical projects are often the kindling of

dominant society’s fire.

Although Ellul never suggested canceling the project, he was keenly

aware of the futility of them. We were troubled throughout our reading

of The Technological Society by why Ellul has not received more credit

for providing a total critique of society. One reason is that he clearly

did not have a militant public relations orientation like his

situationist peers. Another reason is that Ellul’s analysis lead him to

the conclusion that the technological society had not only become

autonomous, but that revolt, incapable of stopping the techno-behemoth,

was a new kind of opiate of the masses.

Technique diffuses the revolt of the few and thus appeases the need of

the millions for revolt. The same could be said of all the “movements”

started since the turn of the century in response to the frustration of

the most elementary human impulses. But can it be maintained, therefore,

that social movements such as surrealism, youth hostels, revolutionary

parties, anarchism, and so on have failed? They have failed in that they

have not achieved their own goals of re-creating the conditions of

freedom and justice or of allowing man to rediscover a genuine sex life

or intellectual life. But they have been completely successful from

another point of view. They have performed the sociological function of

integration. Technical means are so important, so difficult to achieve

and to manage, that it is easier to have them if there is a group, a

movement, an association. Such movements are based on authentic impulses

and valid feelings, and do allow a few individuals access to modes of

expression which otherwise would have been closed to them. But their

essential function is to act as vicarious intermediaries to integrate

into the technical society these same impulses and feelings which are

possessed by millions of other men. Herein lies their sociological

character. Certain deep ecstatic instincts and impulses would otherwise

escape the jurisdiction of the technical society and become a threat to

it. Movements...are a sociological necessity to a technical milieu.

This sheer pessimism would have been anathema to Guy Debord and his

merry Situationists.[3] An additional reason that Ellul’s work is less

known is simply that his emphasis on the critique of technology was

perhaps too dissonant for his era to accept. A half century ago, it was

still possible to believe in the coming techno-utopia. We wager that no

one really believes this today. Polls have demonstrated that Americans

are no longer optimistic about technology,[4] and here we are forced to

contend with the strange schizophrenia that characterizes technological

affect. A shizophrenia plagues the modern mind that holds a

techno-pessimism and techno-optimism in its head simultaneously. We feel

the peril and the convenience in our gadgets at once. This sort of

tension cannot last, it will erode itself and decompose. Similar to

Marx, Ellul seems to believe in the reality and power of the object of

his study more than is appropriate, and this is where his pessimism

meets with Paoli’s observation that demotiva- tion—of the worker or

activist—is precisely what this world is producing and cannot bear.

Because society can never deliver on its promises, it is generating a

deficit in the realm of motivation and belief. This is perhaps the

Achilles heel of the dominant order.

Applied Anti-Tech

Why can’tpeople talk to each other in public places, places that are so

incorrectly named? Here is the essential, unique question that contains

all the others. Every other question that claims to be interesting in

itself is an impostor, reformism, a diversionary maneuver on the part of

the enemy. On this question, above all on the response to this question,

the divide opens between the friends and enemies of money, the friends

and enemies of the state. The question of the silence of people in the

streets is the essential question. The response to this question is the

strategic response to all questions. The response to this question

suddenly provokes generalized chatter. One can easily understand that

the enemy will do everything in its power not to have this question

addressed.

An Inquiry into the Causes and Nature of the Poverty of People

One night, during the twilight of an Occupy camp we’d been frequenting,

a man began unfolding a small table near the center of camp. After he

erected it, he set up a coffee maker and plugged it into a net of

extension cords that lead to a generator. A friend chatted the man up,

and he told us with excitement that he was going to brew coffee and sell

it for $0.50 a cup. Our friend suddenly became stern and assertive, and

told him, “You can’t do that here. We’re not selling stuff here.” Here

was the seed of a group magical taboo. The camp, like all the others,

was destroyed days later, but this magical taboo lives on. Standing

Rock, for all of its shortcomings, can boast the honor of having

maintained a habitat of industrial resistance free of commerce that

lasted nearly a year and hosted tens of thousands of people. But unlike

Occupy, prayer and spirituality were explicit goals and practices at

Standing Rock. Many natives we met there from varied backgrounds and

factions all insisted that non-natives begin to develop a spiritual

life.

Money and technological progress have reigned within the spiritual void

opened by the Enlightenment for several centuries in Europe, and they

have conquered almost the entire globe. Technology is what secular

people invest their belief in, and spending and making money is the

daily practice of this peculiar form of malignant spiritual nihilism.

The reigning sense that life is meaningless is a lie. This world, the

world of progress, the world of the commodity, the technological

society, is meaningless, but only because it is founded on such absurd

logic. That logic is this: The ends justify the means, and the ends are

means. The means justify the means. But just as any elementary school

prisoner learns by the time they matriculate, you can’t use the same

word in its definition, lest the word become meaningless. So then, this

world is meaningless, but we don’t know if life itself is meaningless.

What we can see is that humans generate meaning as a matter of our

existence, of our daily activity. Even our dreadfully isolated

technological society bombards us with meaning, it is just meaning that

is meaningless, meaning that is false, a world that is totally false.

The irony of this world is that to be a nihilist in a nihilist society

is to believe that life has meaning!

The Situation is Hopeless, Just Hopeless: A Pessimist’s Review of The

Uninhabitable Earth by Mallory Wournos

Soon people will be coming here to make documentaries about how we’ve

been forgotten, about how nothing has been done.

survivor of the Brumadinho dam collapse

Some call them ‘mountains of doom.’ Dotting the landscape of once-green

Wales to this day are the stygian slag heaps resulting from

centuries-old collieries, mammoth piles of debris that tower above the

mining towns. They are cheerless sights, which one writer likened to

“spiritless cathedrals of the industrial age.” As was proven in horror

at Aberfan on October 21, 1966, these looming giants are killers.

from the entry on the Aberfan landslide in Darkest Hours

I’ve been a disaster enthusiast since I was young enough to read. That

might sound strange and gruesome, but I somehow got my hands on a

massive tome of despair called Darkest Hours: A Narrative Encyclopedia

of Worldwide Disasters by Jay Robert Nash. I was mesmerized by the

horror, more visceral and terrifying than the movies that my Grandpa was

the only one who would let me watch late at night; pictures of tangled

metal cutting through flesh, searchers balancing precariously on rubble

searching for survivors, grief on their faces, and rows of bodies

covered in white sheets laying on cracked and crooked roads after an

earthquake. The first entry is the tragic landslide in Aberfan, Wales,

where a slagheap 800 ft. high was weakened, “releasing a two-million-

ton torrent of rock, coal, and mud, which cascaded onto the Pantglas

Junior and Infants School and 17 other buildings... crushed to death and

buried alive were 145 persons, of whom 116 were children.” Stories like

this profoundly shaped my view on the disasters we inflict upon the

world and therefore ourselves, more than any statistics on things like

carbon levels; I had no concept of that then and no use for them now.

I still harbor a passion for these stories, so when I heard about The

Uninhabitable Earth: Life After Warming by David Wallace-Wells, billed

by one critic as “a terrifying polemic that reads like a cross between

Stephen King and Stephen Hawking” (I hoped for more of the former than

the latter), I was excited to see what the latest in climate change

literature had to offer, and what it offers is an overwhelming

accounting of humanity’s sins.

The book is divided into chapters that, like Dante, take us through

different hells we are already experiencing, and describe punishments we

can only begin to appreciate: heatwaves, famine, floods, wildfires,

pollution, disease, economic collapse, and conflict. We’re talking

destruction on such a scale that it is considered a hyperobject; a

“conceptual fact so large and complex that, like the internet, it can

never be properly comprehended.” That climate is something we have no

control over is the cause of epidemics of distress and depression, which

this book will not alleviate. Nor should it.

Anybody in the United States who has gone to see a therapist,

psychiatrist, or other mental health professional has inevitably heard

the positivity spiel. It goes like this: you go in for terrible

depression, anxiety, or any number of conditions that are branded

abnormal or deviant. Sometimes this is because of personal prob-

lems—grief over the death of a loved one for instance—or visual and

auditory hallucinations, things that in the past been were the realm of

shamans and witches, but are now efficiently exorcised through

pharmaceuticals. However, more and more people are seeking help because

of a deep existential crisis, which at its root is the state of the

world.

The response of these experts is to dismiss your concerns as something

to avoid thinking about (perhaps using behavior modification), something

holding you back (from reaching your potential), and something that can

be fixed (with the right medications). Becoming an empty shell is

better, apparently, than feeling an emotional connection to the world,

which in these times can only distress you. The last thing this society

wants is for people to stop participating, by which they mean going to

work each day and contributing to society. Panic attacks? There’s a pill

for that. Nightmares? There’s a pill for that as well.

But maybe nightmares are real, and none of us can ultimately escape

them. Everybody will be touched by the consequences of humanity’s hubris

and ecocidal ways. Ultimately, this acknowledgment is what lies at the

core of The Uninhabitable Earth.

Each climate-related event can be expanded on to reveal the terrifying

details of what we have faced, are facing, and will face. It would have

been nice for Wallace-Wells to get even more detailed with his

descriptions. Perhaps it’s my penchant for the morbid, but the best

example of this may be Luis Urrea’s The Devil’s Highway, which tells the

story of a group of Mexican migrants who were found dead after being

ditched by a coyote in the Sonoran desert. Tracing their path to

disaster, Luis does not spare the reader, as the migrants weren’t spared

on their trek to seek out a better life in a country hostile to their

dreams. The description of their fate is stomach-churning. Here, he

describes all six stages of heat death: heat stress, heat fatigue, heat

syncope, heat cramps, heat exhaustion, and heat stroke. He describes

each in detail. Consider the following, which is just one stage, the

final one:

Your blood is as low as it can get. Dehydration has reduced all your

inner streams to sluggish mud- holes. Your heart pumps harder and harder

to get fluid and oxygen to your organs. Empty vessels within you

collapse. Your sweat runs out.

With no sweat, your body’s swamp-cooler breaks. The thermostat goes

haywire. You are having a core meltdown.

Your temperature redlines—you hit 105, 106, 108 degrees. Your body

panics and dilates all blood capillaries near the surface, hoping to

flood your skin with blood to cool it off. You blish. Your eyes turn

red: blood vessels burst, and later, the tissue of the whites literally

cooks until it goes pink, then a well-done crimson.

Your skin gets terribly sensitive. It hurts, it burns. Your nerves

flame. Your blood heats under your skin. Clothing feels like sandpaper.

Some walkers at this point strip nude. Originally, BORSTAR rescuers

thought this stripping was a delirious panic, an attempt to cool off at

the last minute. But often, the clothing was eerily neat, carefully

folded and left in nice little piles beside the corpses. They realized

that walkers couldn’t stand their nerve-endings being chafed by their

clothes. The walkers stripped to get free of the irritation.

Once they’re naked, they’re surely hallucinating. They dig burrows in

the soil, apparently thinking they’ll escape the sun. Once underground,

of course, they bake like a pig at a luau. Some dive into the sand,

thinking it’s water, and they swim in it until they pass out. They choke

to death, their throats filled with rocks and dirt. Cutters can only

assume they think they’re drinking water.

Your muscles, lacking water, feed on themselves. They break down and

start to rot. Once rotting in you, they dump rafts of dying cells into

your already sludgy bloodstream.

Proteins are peeling off your dying muscles. Chunks of cooked meat are

falling out of your organs, to clog your other organs. The system closes

down in a series. Your kidneys, your bladder, your heart. They jam shut.

Stop. Your brain sparks. Out. You’re gone.

Wallace-Wells doesn’t see himself as an environmentalist, or even, as

they say, a “nature person,” having grown up in cities “enjoying gadgets

built by industrial supply chains I hardly think twice about.” He truly

represents the average person in the West today and this is exactly who

this book is for, because presumably none of this will be new for

anybody reading this paper, who are already critical of civilization.

That some pretty fringe ideas are being presented to a mainstream

audience is what makes it important. Some of the names he drops will be

familiar to many of you—James C. Scott, Robinson Jeffers, and Paul

Kingsnorth to name a few. But to most these will be new names and new

ideas, perhaps in a paradoxical way providing com- fort—in a time where

we can find little—by guiding us to new paths secreted away. That is, if

you see the coming chaos and revenge of the wild to be comforting, with

minds unclouded by the delusions identified by Wallace-Wells:

The slowness of climate change is a fairy tale, perhaps as pernicious as

the one that says it isn’t happening at all, and comes to us bundled

with several others in an anthology of comforting delusions: that global

warming is an arctic saga unfolding remotely; that it is strictly a

matter of sea level and coastlines, not an enveloping crisis sparing no

place and leaving no life undeformed; that it is a crisis of the

‘natural’ world, not the human one; that those two are distinct and that

we live today somehow outside or beyond or at the very least defended

against nature, not inescapably within and literally overwhelmed by it;

that wealth can be a shield against the ravages of warming; that the

burning of fossil fuels is the price of continued economic growth; that

growth, and the technology it produces, will allow us to engineer our

way out of environmental disaster; that there is any analogue to the

scale or scope of this threat, in the long span of human history, that

might give us confidence in staring it down.

For each of these narratives, the author provides ample evidence to

chisel them apart, using science and statistics to back them with

examples from both micro and macro catastrophes. It’s a laundry list of

climate horror you can’t ignore; readers are strapped down with their

eyes pried open, forced to look at what we have brought upon ourselves.

Nature’s ultraviolence, in the form of hurricanes, earthquakes, and

other disasters.

Again, readers of Black Seed may feel this is tedious. More of interest

to green anarchists is what Wallace- Wells has to say further into the

book, where he talks about “the climate kaleidoscope,” beginning with a

chapter on storytelling—one of the most important things that can be

done by those of us hurting, fighting, and struggling to survive in this

doomed society. Writing our own myths to counter those of the

worldeaters is imperative, but no easy task considering our scant

resources versus the vast majority of the global media.

One of the most damaging myths that haunts the new man, homo in-

dustrialis, is the idea that surroundings of concrete, strip malls,

air-conditioned cars, and heated homes have insulated mankind from the

dangers of the natural world. We have not moved farther away from

nature, on the contrary. In his brilliant and harrowing book, Toxic

Archipelago: A History of Industrial Disease in Japan, Brett Walker

describes this well:

the pain and suffering that remind us of our relationship to nature is

caused by the modern technologies and engineered environments that are

meant to shelter us from certain kinds of pain, meaning that,

paradoxically, the more technologically driven modern life becomes, and

the more alienated from nature it thus appears, the more we are reminded

in painful ways of our timeless connection to na- ture...Our bodies are

porous and easily insulted—easily industrialized—inescapably tied to the

environments we inhabit; not only the food we eat but the air we breathe

and the water we drink can prove dangerous. In this respect, modernity

and its technologies and engineered landscapes have not distanced us

from nature


The stories in The Uninhabitable Earth also remind us that we are

intricately linked to our surroundings. Poison the land, and we too are

poisoned. Modern medicine will do everything it can to discover the

resulting human diseases and treat them (as long as they can afford it,

or to stem the tide of a cataclysmic epidemic). Scientists all over the

world devoting their lives to discovering how to cheat death. From

individual mortality to human extinction we are taught to fear

non-existence, so people tighten their blinders until they can’t see

their intimate relationship with the wild, and choose instead to

continue believing they have overcome the kinds of problems other an

imals face, up to and including death. These ideas have played a large

part in leading us to where we are today. There will always be

consequences for our actions, and there’s no way to beat nature when we

are part of it. Each new technology brings with it new possibilities for

frightening events: consider a future in which it’s commonplace to hear

about another electric vehicle exploding, or another self-driving car

plowing through a crowd, adding to the already massive numbers of yearly

vehicle deaths. One doesn’t need to think of nanotechnology and AI to

see that where we’re headed isn’t going to be pleasant, especially when

things already look so bleak.

Humans lost when they began dismissing omens of doom, and instead turned

to numbers and experts. These numbers might tell us, for instance, that

this many whales turned up with plastic in their stomachs, the weight of

that plastic, and all the information that can be garnered from the

corpse before it explodes spectacularly, cold reason masking the

suffering of the magnificent creature. The 40 lbs of plastic is more

than enough evidence that we have crossed the point of no return, and

yet we collect and search through more and more data in a desperate

attempt to find an answer that will magically fix the state the world is

in. Why are people afraid to look? An article written by Wallace -Wells

posted on the NY Mag website addresses this:

Why can’t we see the threat right in front of us? The most immediate

answer is obvious:

It’s fucking scary. For years now, researchers have known that

‘unrealistic optimism is a pervasive human trait, ’ one that, whatever

you know about how social-media addicts get used to bad news, leads us

to discount scary information and embrace the sunnier stuff.

And the generation of economists and behavioral psychologists who’ve

spent the last few decades enumerating all of our cognitive biases have

compiled a whole literature of problems with how we process the world,

almost every single example of which distorts and distends our

perception of a changing climate, typically by making us discount the

threat.

So many remain optimistic, even though governments show no signs of

implementing their own regulations. Even the extremely moderate proposal

of the Green New Deal, a bill that was more symbolic than anything, was

killed before ever being seriously considered by lawmakers (see the now

infamous speech overflowing with memes by Senator Lee of Utah). By now

we should know that these green energy solutions mean nothing except

fatter wallets for those who invest in these scams. Ask the villagers in

China who militantly resisted the building of solar panel factories.

They know better than anyone that there’s nothing “green” about it. They

are simply new technologies that don’t replace old tech running on

fossil fuels, but are merely placed adjacent to them, creating an even

larger footprint.

If you’re a pessimist, don’t expect to make any friends. It’s more

likely you will be dismissed outright—slandered as defeatist or

worse—when presenting someone with evidence that challenges their sunny

dispositions about what humanity is and what it is capable of (we as a

species have proven plenty capable of destruction). This is just more

reason to push back against the crack of the activist whip that demands

everybody do something, even though most of us realize that changes in,

say, individual consumption, would have to be on a worldwide scale. If

the hippies failed to conjure their worldwide awakening

(proto-wokeness), what chance to these idealists have in this much more

fragmented society that just can’t stop consuming at a rate

unprecedented in human history? Their answers only rearrange the same

logic of capitalism that created and supports these massive but unstable

states to begin with.

There is a reason for the cult of optimism: it keeps people going. In an

effort to prevent burnout you must have hope that you can make a change.

Usually optimists, curiously, have no concrete solutions to the worst of

the problems on the horizon, only judgement for those who they see as

apathetic. Wallace-Wells distances himself from pessimism many times

(e.g. “Each of us imposes suffering on our future selves every time we

flip on a light switch, buy a plane ticket, or fail to vote. Now we all

share the responsibility to write the next act.”) Not only does he

describe himself as an optimist, he makes the claim that to be

pessimistic about humanity’s prospects is to be apathetic to human and

non-human suffering. This couldn’t be further from the truth.

Brett Walker’s Toxic Archipelago begins with a horrific story of a pod

of orcas becoming trapped between fast moving thick ice and the rocky

coast. A mother, desperately, vainly, trying to protect her calf, was

the only one to be rescued by locals. The remaining 11 were crushed,

slashed and ripped apart by the jagged rocks, the sound of their screams

breaking through the howling wind. Of course, when scientists performed

necropsies, they found the PCBs and mercury detected in the blubber to

be eleven times higher than normal for whales in Japanese coastal

waters. He goes on to reflect on choosing this story to open the

prologue:

I must confess that, partway through writing this book, when I heard the

story of this destroyed orca pod, a darker tone began to permeate parts

of my analysis and narrative. The image of a mother orca trying in vain

to protect her deformed calf was hard to shake, particularly because I

assume some blame, as a member of homo sapien industrialis, for their

destruction...I tried to exorcise the darker side of this book during

later editing and rewriting, but I was unable or, quite possibly,

unwilling to do so. No doubt, when they read the pages ahead, some of my

colleagues will cry out, ‘He narrates environmental declension!’ And

rightly so, I should add. But I remain unapologetic: I am a historian

and I am calling it as I see it, and I see environmental decline and

deterioration everywhere.

Unfortunately in the end, Wal- lace-Wells, even in the face of his

growing collection of similar horror stories, suggests if we really

cared we’d run to the voting booths posthaste. His point isn’t about

purity, but about a sober assessment of the scale of change necessary,

and I agree with Wallace-Wells that the only thing that would make even

the smallest impact (using human suffering as the barometer here), is

massive political engagement that would put enough pressure on the

jugular of corporations and other profiteers of industry to choke them

out, as no regular person on the street has any power to force the issue

at all.

Is all this negativity just a sad and desperate plea to act now before

its too late (as if it already isn’t)? For the pessimist, the answer is

no. Pessimism has no solutions or answers to these disasters. However

things change it won’t be for the better. Even places seemingly out of

reach will one day face the wrath of the wild forces. Nature will cause

more destruction than anarchists could ever dream of achieving, and she

shows no remorse, no discrimination. Anybody is a potential victim.

While some in the direct path at this juncture are most vulnerable, even

the well-off—who can simply rebuild or move entirely—will suffer. There

might not be any perilous journeys for them across deserts and oceans to

reach safer land, but rest assured they won’t be able to evade the

inevitable cataclysms to come.

Most people have no time, or are unwilling to listen to prophets of doom

these days, being stuck in front of glowing screens and working to

survive. And when people finally leave their jobs they want to come home

to binge Netflix, not read about the latest climate horrors. Hell, they

know if they wanted to there’s no reason to even check the headlines.

One can simply walk out into the city and see that suffering and death

is all around us, and that we suffer ourselves, every day, from

civilization’s debilitating effects, both psychological or physical.

Calamity and its “invisible undermining of self,” also undermines our

ideas of reality. Charles Darwin, after experiencing an earthquake in

Concepcion, Chile, wrote: “A bad earthquake at once destroys our oldest

associations: the earth, the very emblem of society, has moved beneath

our feet like a thin crust over a liquid; one second of time has created

in the mind a strange idea of insecurity, which hours of reflection

would not have produced.” This is what can be called “nature’s agency;”

a reminder that homo industrialis, despite seeming omnipotence as it

builds skyscrapers higher and higher, is actually pitifully weak in the

face of nature’s strength. Ultimately, we aren’t in charge. Is this

fatalism? Perhaps, but maybe that is better than being in denial of the

storm on the horizon. Coming to accept this means giving up control to

the chaotic forces of the wild, where we will drop to our knees in awe

of its power, relinquishing our stolen crown.

There’s A Twitter for That?! by Aragorn!

This article has nothing to do with the IAF. I have no problem

whatsoever with the idea that there is a new “collective of Indigenous

anarchists that includes one Indigenous Marxist,” and that is “striving

for anti-colonialism, anti-imperialism, and antifascism.” I mean I also

don’t think it matters—other than being a sign of the times—that

something that I value has found its voice on the Internet (for better

and definitely for worse). But it is surreal and demonstrates a lot of

things that are worth reflecting on and evaluating about radical

projects up till now and into the future.

There is an indigenous Twitter?

On the face of it the idea it is a no- brainer that there is a little

corner of Twitter where indigenous activists find each other and share

information. It couldn’t be more resource-light to share news about

indigenous action, analysis, and strategy. Twitter is also a perfect

medium to keep updating, pinging, and doing the bare minimum of what web

apps do to keep one in the loop.

Which is the say that the churn of Twitter is no different than that of

a dozen other services one feels obligated to subscribe to, to

understand the zeitgeist of our time. Why should indigeneity be any

different? Why does it feel so bitter and hollow to say that out loud?

I do not begrudge indigenous people the right to not disappear. It is

stupid to have to even pause and say it. But my aesthetic revulsion to

the largest platform of one-way communication also means that I think we

should not stand mute. But what I want is impossible. I want the deep

underlying reality of native life to be formed like a sort of laser

beam. I want it to burn into the soul of a humanity that is fucking it

all up. I want indigeneity to be a force of change that is undeniable,

permanent, and fatal to the logic of Western Empire. Twitter feels like

something else entirely.

Is it a qualitative improvement to print ten thousand pieces of this

paper articulating an indigenous position than to share with ten

thousand people up-to-the-minute information? Well, yes it is, but the

effort this represents in writing, designing, and distributing might be

worthless. It depends on your goal, of course.

If your goal is to create an aesthetic of indigenous desire, to reflect

on a generational question, or to build a movement, then a newspaper is

probably an historical artifact. It is far too resource-intensive, and

it is so fucking slow: this project is the result of months of effort by

a half dozen people or so. It wasn’t full time work but it was

deliberative and iterative. Whereas creating a Twitter account takes one

motivated person and a pot of coffee. More pointedly while a Twitter

account can call itself anything, whether it in fact is a federation or

exemplifies the best in anti-bad-stuff thought, is a matter of belief.

There is no accountability.

There is, in fact, nothing human at all about a Twitter account, but

let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

What there is is search. Like an interest in beach volleyball, the Kar-

dashians, or space travel, all it takes to be part of Indigenous Twitter

is the capacity to type the term into the search bar. Today it leads you

to news about Brazil and the potential genocide of natives by Bolsonaro,

the state of Maine replacing Columbus Day with Indigenous Peoples’ Day,

and a landmark legal victory in Ecuador. There was also an ad for the

new John Wick movie. I’ll download that in six months once it makes it

to the torrent sites.

Support and support

Even as I type this I feel so exhausted. If you have made it this far in

an issue of the Green Anarchist newspaper Black Seed you don’t need your

engine primed about whether the corporation Twitter Inc is on the side

of the total liberation of people along lines best described as

anti-modern, transformative, or indigenous. You are for this total

liberation, as I am, but the devil, as they say, is in the details. How

do we do it. How can the process of doing it bring us together,

stronger, and heal all the ways we are broken.

What does support even mean any more, since we are naturally for all of

the good things. We can even repeat how For Good we are with chants and

repeated group behaviors. We can write checks. We can sign up for every

social media expression of how downright good we are and how we have

materially, existentially, and/or quantifiably supported good things.

What does support even mean? I ask that question sincerely. Especially

in the context of the Internet, the idea of support seems to be more

about being seen as supportive rather than actual material support. I

mean it is obvious that if, as for many artists, exposure is valid

payment than linking to information can be seen as support. Support is

clearly a modern kind of newspeak term that is code for performing

support but isn’t necessarily that related to actual support, as say, an

exchange of material goods would be.

Should support require some sort of material sacrifice to be considered

actual? It seems so depression- era thinking to even say, but a soup

line up in front of an old WPA sign is support in a way that a thousand

retweets don’t seem to compare to. But somehow the modern human animal

thinks it is the other way around. In the attention economy we get to

eat dust and celebrate celebrity. Our interest is in logo design and

color contrast action shots and not a lifeway beyond recognition, not

reducible to a meme.

It is worth noting that when one subscribes to the IAF Twitter feed the

recommended other feeds include IGD (It’s Going Down), Black Rose

Federation, and Revolutionary Left Radio. Three projects that are

nothing more than support sites (although IGD and RLR arguably have an

entertainment aspect to them, BRF does not.). By the end of a day (or an

hour) one could arguably support all the possible Twitter things, and

not one person would notice.

Orientalism

Buried in here are a number of issues that are hard to access. If I were

to indict the news/support/entertainment complex it would begin with an

examination of who we are versus who we cover. If we are part of a

movement to attack and change the world then sharing stories of

strangers who use our terminology, wear our clothes, and eat our food

doesn’t seem particularly problematic. What if our stories are actually

stories of other people who we don’t and can’t talk to. Where do our

stories become their stories?

Orientalism is a term used by art historians and literary and cultural

studies scholars for the imitation or depiction of aspects in the

Eastern world. These depictions are usually done by writers, designers,

and artists from the West.

Wikipedia

In the universe that measures people by how racist, sexist, transphobic,

and generally “fucked up” people are, to be orientalist is pretty bad.

It is among the worst kind of “othering” and is often taken to be the

final word on a person. Being orientalist is also central to the

colonial project and to every project that has otherwise been described

as a “support project” up till now. It is the patronizing idea that we

(by any definition of we) know how to help people better than they can

help themselves. And it has a whiff of being true, as often times we (as

colonized subjects who also colonize) have more resources (money) than

those we are helping. As Jesus said in Luke 6:20-21 “Blessed are you who

are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who are

hungry now, for you will be filled. Blessed are you who weep now, for

you will laugh.” He said a bunch of other assertive shit about how great

the poor are but I think you get the point. Christians, and by extension

the West, draw a line between us and them and it has a lot of strange

and terrible implications.

I want to use the term “orientalism” to describe those implications, to

get at a point that isn’t particularly friendly to many, many people who

I would describe as friends. As much as I find anarchist security

culture (which essentially can be described as an arrogance about how

important we are as individuals) annoying I basically agree with it to

the extent that our representation should be controlled by us

(collectively and individually) and not them (systems of control that

usually are state agencies). Selfies not fixed cameras.

But how we (collectively and individually) choose to represent

ourselves, especially in “our” media, is nightmarishly terrible. The

same Twitter search I referenced earlier (re: indigenous) is a case in

point. Representations of natives are either as performers (in

traditional regalia) or members of bourgeois culture (in proper clean

clothes at bill signings and whatnot). Paper dolls, only very rarely

with a third dimension. But media, even and especially “our” media, is

even worse.

Again, nothing new here, I’ve been railing against the orientalism of

natives by the left for decades (as have more articulate voices than

mine who have inspired me). The newer point is this: in our fight

against orientalism we have chosen to create an empty space where

representation would otherwise exist. In our yearning to

not-unfairly-por- tray-our-subject we have generally chosen to say

nothing. When given the choice we have been vague, and that has allowed

our position to be mispresented by those who have no compunction about

orientalizing everything around them. Rather than articulating a

charismatic position that contradicts the orientalist one, we have

(seemed to) hedge.

The IAF is not a bad actor here. Their website is a better impression of

them than their twitter feed and although there isn’t a lot of original

content, what there isn’t terrible. It focuses on border issues, ongoing

struggles, and some history. It is representational and while the issue

of orientalism is not confronted, there is this glancing blow in the

About section.

We must be able to articulate an Anarchism that both speaks to the

material realities of our relatives both living on the rez and in

diaspora, all while maintaining the diverse perspectives of our peoples’

various cultures. We must create a place where these conversations can

be had... where our ideas and dreams can be fleshed out. IAF strives to

provide the space for this to happen.

This is a very high bar to set for your project and it is not really in

evidence in either the Twitter or website content. What is in evidence

is a version of other people’s words and activism. The place where

conversations can be had is a Twitter stream, with other anons, in the

chaos of an unthreaded, tweetstorm environment.

I don’t mean to lean so heavily on Twitter (although I’ve never had a

satisfactory conversational experience there), as every forum, platform,

and mechanism on the Internet has the same or similar problems. Instead

I’m attempting to sympathize with IAF’s problem. I’ve had the same

enormously large and ambitious goal and have also failed at it.

The medium is the message in this case. If you want 10,000 subscribers

and to utilize social media platforms by their own logic you don’t also

get to not-be-orientalist. You get to tell stories, many of them might

even be good ones, but at some point they aren’t your stories. They are

someone else’s and any rhetoric about “fleshing out our ideas and

dreams” is aspirational, and not exactly honest. It might even be fair

to say these stories are a mechanism by which we orientalize our own

experience.

Federalism vs Confederalism

If I understand correctly, the IAF and their website is somehow related

to the FAI (Federation Anarquista Indigena) in South America. I’ll

provide links to these groups so you can do your own research as I have

no first hand experience to draw upon beyond what I’ve read there. But,

perhaps, how these groups are linked and by extension how we would also

link to them might be an important lesson for the future. In a time when

we want to abolish all of the things, are terms like federation,

confederacy, and autonomy salvageable and if they are, how?

Here it is appropriate to state a bias. The use of the term “federation”

is troubled in the English language anarchist space. To use the word in

good faith in the 21st century is a short cut to position yourself as a

class-struggle anarchist: as a red (communist) anarchist rather than a

black, green, or purple one. For an indigenous anarchist project to

align itself, even unwittingly, with this position is strange. More

pointedly, there is a fifty year tradition of anarchist federations

including SRAF (Social Revolutionary Anarchist Federation), Love & Rage,

NEFAC, and Black Rose Federation that is worth knowing and distancing

oneself from. This is not to say these federations are bad but that they

hold positions about the primacy of, for instance, the working class’

role in social revolution, that are a pretty far distance from most

indigenous perspectives.

On a structural level, the question is where do we draw the lines. A

federation has certain implications that seem onerous to me but I

understand why people would make them. The first is the question of

organization coherence. The second is a form of organizing that hasn’t

exactly been successful in the past few decades. (It hasn’t succeeded at

social revolution but perhaps it’s been a good way to throw a potluck or

bake- sale.) But my experience is in North American activist circles.

YMMV. I consider a federation an enclosure but it doesn’t have to be and

perhaps the IAF/FAI points to a new model. One that hasn’t been explored

by the IAF literature at this point but that raises a provocative idea.

More attractive to me, would be something more closely mirroring a

confederacy, not unlike the Iroquois Confederacy. But perhaps this is a

conversation about scale as much as about how people organize. In the

anarchist use of the word, a federation is usually a few groups of

people attempting to stitch together common projects. A dozen groups of

about a dozen people each is aspira- tional nowadays but even Love and

Rage (in the ‘90s) numbered a couple hundred members (in over 20

chapters or so). A confederacy, in my understanding, would be thousands

of members who aren’t tightly stitched together at all (sharing neither

language, territory, nor function) but an agreement of peace and

sharing. That sounds right to me.

Perhaps it’s enough to say here that there is a history and that words

have meaning. For the IAF, as far as I can tell, the F (ederation) part

of their name is probably rhetoric and not political weaponry or

intention (other than perhaps by their marxist member ;-)). They post

news stories from mostly not-North America on Twitter, even I can give

them a break on this front.

References

https://twitter.com/IAF_FAI

https://twitter.com/FaiMujer

https://iaf-fai.org/

BC Indigenous Land Defense Updates

Secwepemc 'Tiny House Warriors' and TransMountain Extension Tar

Sands Pipeline Resistance

In Summer of 2017 members of the Secwepemc nation and supporters began

construction of the first of 10 mobile tiny houses on one of their old

village sites. The Secwepemc ‘Tiny House Warriors’ plan to strategically

site the tiny houses with land defenders living in them throughout their

territory along the proposed route of the TransMountain Extension

pipeline. This project is part of an effort to reoccupy their

territories and establish villages to heal from colonization and revive

their traditional way of life.

From the declaration of the Sec- wepemc: “Investors take note, the Trans

Mountain Pipeline project and any other corporate colonial project that

seeks to go through and destroy our 180,000 square km of unceded

territory will be refused passage through our territory. We stand

resolutely together against any and all threats to our lands, the

wildlife and the waterways. We are committed to upholding our collective

and spiritual responsibility and jurisdiction to look after the land,

the language and the culture of our people.” In the summer of 2018,

partly in response to public opposition that threatened the outcome of

the pipeline, the Canadian government purchased the TransMountain

Extension pipeline for $4.5 billion from Kinder Morgan. On July 14th

2018, Canadian RCMP evicted the Tiny House construction.

The project moved the tiny houses to Blue River camp where they are

currently occupying a proposed Kinder Morgan Man Camp* site that will

bring over a thousand men into the unceded Secwepemc Territory. The Tiny

House Warriors are seeking support for the next phase of construction.

To learn more and support this effort visit:

https://www.facebook.com/tinyhousewarriors/.

Unist'ot'en Camp and Coastal GasLink Liquefied Natural Gas (LNG)

Pipeline Resistance

Unist'ot'en Camp has entered into one of its most difficult standoffs

with energy companies and the Canadian state to date. On December 14,

2018, the Supreme Court of Canada approved an interim injunction for TC

Energy (formerly TransCanada) subsidiary Coastal GasLink Ltd. to conduct

pre-construction activities on Unist’ot’en territory. All five clans of

the Wet'suwet'en Nation responded by agreeing to support the Gidimt’en

clan establishing a checkpoint about 20 km down the road from the

Unist’ot’en Camp checkpoint. Both clans re-established their traditional

“free, prior, and informed consent” protocol for any party that wished

to enter the territory. In early January 2019, the Gidimt’en camp was

raided and Canadian RCMP (cops) forcibly invaded Unist’ot’en territory.

Since then, RCMP have been protecting the injunction, allowing Coastal

GasLink to conduct surveys and begin the construction of man camps to

house workers on Unist’ot’en land for pipeline construction which is

part of a $40 billion LNG export project. After the invasion the Tsayu

clan of the Wet'suwet'en nation joined the fight with the Unist’ot’en

and Gidimt’en clans by occupying their traditional territory,

re-establishing a traditional trapline, and maintaining an additional

“free, prior, and informed consent” checkpoint. The Likhts’amisyu clan

of the Wet'suwet'en nation announced in April that they will begin

reoccupying their territories as well to resist the CGL pipeline. The

Gidimt’en have continued to maintain their checkpoint despite regular

harassment by the cops. On May 28, the Supreme Court will decide whether

to grant CGL an interlocutory or permanent injunction for the

construction of the man camp and pipeline, which could escalate industry

aggression and police violence. The Unist’ot’en, Gidimt’en, and

Likhtsamisyu camps are seeking support with establishing and maintaining

the occupations. To learn more and support these efforts visit:

unistotencamp.com yintahaccess.com likhtsamisyu.com

https://www.facebook.com/Tsayu- Land-Defenders-145084489749640/

worker camps, infamous for hosting men who rape and murder indigenous

women. These camps have a statistically increased rate of murders and

rapes related to them.

[1] Voyer uses the word exchange in its more antiquated sense referring

to the union of human communication and the exchange of material goods.

The rise of commerce has eliminated this antiquated understanding of

exchange which Voyer considers the “human activity par excellence.”

[2] “The difference between ancient society, modernism, and

post-modernism is this: the ancients knew that they believed, the

modernists believed that they knew, and the post-modernists believe that

they don’t believe in anything anymore. It is precisely this latter

belief that we have to destroy.” Demotivational Training p11-12

[3] According to Ellul, the situationists declined Ellul's application

to join them because he was a Christian. This is probably another reason

why people have ignored him.

[4] "A 2005 poll of 69,000 people in North America revealed that a

majority, 51%, can be classified as "technological pessimists," meaning

that they are at best indifferent to modern technology, and at worst

outright hostile toward it." found in David Skrabina's introduction to

Technological Slavery. Forrester Research study, "The State of Consumers

and Technology: Benchmark 2005."