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Title: The Floodgates
Author: Anonymous
Date: May 20, 2012
Language: en
Topics: armed struggle
Source: Retrieved on June 10, 2011 from http://finimondo.org/node/831
Notes: Text published after the shooting of Ansaldo Nucleare CEO Roberto Adinolfi (Italy), May 7, 2012

Anonymous

The Floodgates

To open the floodgates means “to unblock, remove the cap and let the

liquid flow. In the figurative sense, it means to freely give vent to

words, verses, insults...” This is the impression that one gets reading

the many communiqués of condemnation and of taking a distance from the

attacks that have taking place in the last several weeks against the

people and structures of domination. That the floodgates have been

opened. As if up to now the refusal to distinguish oneself in the eyes

of repression, the contempt for those who want to make themselves pass

for “good boys and girls,” maybe a bit unruly but over all pretty good,

wasn’t at all a spontaneous and natural expression of one’s being, of

one’s individuality, but merely an ideological imposition to one felt

constrained to submit. A sort of abstract precept, a moral blackmail to

bear, often with clenched teeth, with poorly concealed patience. And, as

everyone knows, even patience has a limit.

This limit was surpassed with the wounding (by anarchists) of the

administrative representative of Ansaldo Nuclear in Genoa, and with the

molotov cocktail (anonymous) against the institutional loan sharks of

Equitalia in Livorno. Enough already! – many are saying – we will no

longer remain quiet, but will speak up to clearly and strongly express

that we have nothing to do with this! Especially if it all happens just

outside our front door. So from a silence obviously suffered as if it

were a conspiracy of silence, things have suddenly moved on to a din

considered virtuous. Apparently the ethic – that ethic so praised by

anarchists – was only a “cap” against which the shitty liquid, the

rancorous eruption of dissociation was building up and pressing.

Dissociation not from an organization in which one had never

participated, of course, but from a certain practice of direct action:

that which has no need to be legitimized by any popular approval.

If in Genoa it was the claimed violence against a man in flesh and blood

that is (a pretext for) being scandalized, in Livorno it was the

anonymous violence against things. This shows how it is the very idea of

the possibility of attacking the state outside of an extended,

collective, shared context that is considered an aberration to be

crushed by any means. We aren’t at all surprised by this. It’s just a

step in the descent taken by the movement. Besides, when you repeat over

and over again that in struggles you must go out together, you must come

back together, when you impose the dry alternative between sharing and

the state, when you try in every way to wed rebellion and politics, it

is inevitable that sooner of later you transform individual action into

something counterproductive from which to distance yourself ( or, for

the most idiotic, something shady to denounce).

It is also very likely that those who have opened the floodgates haven’t

given much thought to what they were doing. Perhaps they only thought to

ease the pressure, to give vent for a moment to their irritation with

the aim or being able to contain it longer in consequence. That’s not

how it goes. Once the cap is loosened, it all gushes forth. A flood of

shit and bile is spitting out impetuously, polluting the environment and

contaminating minds. It’s easy to imagine the satisfaction of those who

threw out the hook, in seeing how many fish are biting.

In the face of all this one truly just wants to go back to their

childhood. To go back to being those boys in school who, when the

teacher demanded to know who was responsible for a prank, could only

keep silent in class solidarity. And none of them would ever think of

shouting “Not me, Ms. teacher, it wasn’t me.” Before the hated teachers,

all silent! Because then they could settle their accounts elsewhere in

at another time.

But not today, today we are no longer children. We’ve grown up. We’ve

become adults. The play that sought pleasure has been replaced by the

work that demands practical results. We have lost the innocence that

doesn’t know calculation and strategy. In exchange we have gotten a

reputation that – through sheer calculation and strategy – knows only

how to proclaim itself innocent.