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Title: Why Anti-Authoritarian? Author: Larry W. Giddings Date: 1990 Language: en Topics: authority, prison, language, prisoners, feminism, internationalism, indigenous, armed struggle, Anarchist Black Cross Source: Retrieved on November 18, 2012 from print edition and http://www.spunk.org/texts/misc/sp000124.txt
When we mount a movement to challenge power we must expect and prepare
for repression as a matter of course. The resurgence of
anti-authoritarian organizations has paralleled a general increase in
militancy among progressive forces in North America. The predictable
state response to this militancy has been increased repression,
including political imprisonment.
There are currently well over 100 political prisoners (PPs) and
prisoners of war (POWs) held in North American prisons, representing
many diverse political movements. Among these are Native Americans,
Puerto Rican independentistas, Black/New Afrikan nationalists, white
anti-imperialists and anti-nuclear activists. There are also
anarchist/anti-authoritarian political prisoners â captured activists
from our own movement.
The further development and defense of our movement requires building an
effective and consistent response to the stateâs repressive actions.
Providing moral, political and material support for those on trial and
for long imprisoned activists, aiding their families, learning how to
protect ourselves from arrest: these are all things we as individuals
and as a movement can and should be involved in.
Let us introduce you to one of our comrades, Larry Giddings, captured by
state forces in 1979. Larry is imprisoned â but still actively
participating in our movement â today.
Larry was born October 6, 1952, in Rosstal, Germany. His mother is
Silesian/German and his father is of various European and North American
extractions. Larry spent his early years and some teens in Germany. He
spent approximately eight years attending school and living in Maryland,
USA, until dropping out of high shcool.
Larry was wounded during a shoot-out and arms expropriation with four
others on August 21, 1971, in Los Angeles, California. He was arrested
at the scene. Larryâs legal/political defense focused on the need for
armed struggle against the U.S. government and judicial system and the
liberation of prisoners. Upon conviction, he received a 20 years to life
sentence. New laws, and his status as a âfirst-time felonâ, resulted in
his parole after seven years. Larry spent more than a year on parole,
working and living with a multi-cultural, political, food and prisoner
support collective involved in progressive work in the San Fransisco Bay
area. He later began clandestine activities.
On October 14, 1979, Larry was again wounded and captured along with
Bill Dunne (an anti-authoritarian POW in Marion prison) during the
liberation of a comrade from a Seattle, Washington jail. Convicted of
aiding an escape, the shooting of a policeman, bank expropriations (used
for funding their activities), and conspiracy, he received multiple
sentences of life in prison and 75 years, all consecutive. He has no
known parole opportunities.
Since his imprisonment, Larryâs anti-authoritarian commitment,
non-nationalist political analysis and continuing activism, has resulted
in police repression against himself and his friends. Imprisonment has
not stopped Larry from making important contributions to the
anarchist/anti-authoritarian movement. Larry continues to be active with
Bulldozer/Prison News Service, Freedom Now and has been working with the
Anarchist Black Cross (Toronto). Supplementing his activism, Larry
completed B.A. degrees in Sociology and Psychology with the University
of Kansas. He is presently working towards the completion of an M.A.
degree in Sociology, in the key area of social movements.
In Larryâs view, anti-colonialism and anti-imperialism are integral to
an anti-authoritarian analysius and practice. In Larryâs own words:
I seek a world where people live without cultural, racial or national
oppression. This can only happen in a non-state world, a world without
borders. My most inspirational historical example is that of the
Seminole struggles of the 1800âs, in Northern Florida, Oklahoma and
finally in Northern Mexico and Texas. Indigenous People of various
nations, Afrikans (both free-born and escaped from slavery), ârenegadeâ
Europeans, and Maroons (ship-wrecked sailors and rebels from around the
world) united under the banner of the Seminole and resisted the imperial
slavocracy of the U.S. for decades. Some of these Seminole People
continue to struggle to this day. These âSeminole Warsâ, as they are
called, are filled with examples of non-authoritarian structures,
multi-cultural developments and autonomy between a number of cultures
united in struggle. It is from these roots that I believe a truly
dynamic and successful movement for a socially and ecologically sound
world will arise. A respect for the Indigenous People of the world and
the environment is a primary step in creating this world.
Have we supported Larry or has Larry supported us? Sometimes it is hard
to differentiate. Certainly we have learned a lot from Larry and are
privileged to have worked with him. He remains unquestionably a part of
our movement.
Support for political prisoners and prisoners of war in North America is
minimal: their existence is all but unacknowledged. Recognition of and
support for anarchist/anti-authoritarian prisoners is even more limited.
For years people like Larry Giddings have received little or no support
from anti-authoritarians. Indeed Larryâs existence is unknown to most of
us even though he has contributed greatly to our movement both before
and since his capture. There is a growing movement within North America
to recognize, support and publicize the plight of PPs and POWs. We as
anti-authoritarians have a responsibility to ensure that both captured
comrades such as Larry, and anarchist/anti-authoritarian organizations
on the outside are included as a force within this movement
Anarchist Black Cross (Toronto)
The following statement was put out as a leaflet by the Anarchist Black
Cross (Toronto) to help build support for Larry and other political
prisoners/ prisoners of war in the latter part of 1990. From December
7â10, 1990 an âInternational Tribunal On The Human Rights Violations Of
Political/POW Prisoners In The USâ took place in New York City where the
ABC (Toronto) distributed a slightly different version of this pamphlet.
Since then the ABC (Toronto) has disbanded and this pamphlet has been
out of print. We at Arm The Spirit have taken it upon ourselves to
reprint âWhy Anti-Authoritarianâ with slight alterations and the
addition of a short piece that Larry wrote called âIn Memory â August
21, 1971â. We encourage others to copy and distribute it at will.
In Solidarity, Arm The Spirit (Hamilton)
From within the primal ooze of social-political labelling I have, for a
number of years, chosen âanti-authoritarianâ as my own. Those that
prefer specificity have argued that this term is not descriptive enough
and does not declare a âparticularâ poltical evolution. Bandits, rebels,
street gangs, âfree speechersâ, Jeffersonian constitutionalists,
untutored and politically unsophisticated teenagers in rebellion,
anti-communists, undiscplined rabble, counter-culturists, libertarian
socialists, democratic socialists, social democrats, council communists,
syndicalists, anarcho-syndicalists, anarcho-marxists,
anarcho-communists, anarcho-feminists... and more, can all be considered
âanti-authoritarianâ. Oh, just so you think I forgot, anarchists, little
âaâ, and big âAâ are considered anti-authoritarians. âWhy canât I use
one of the more âacceptableâ labels, one with a more distinctly âleftâ
connotation?â, they ask.
Unfortunately, I found the term â anarchist â lacking as well. Iâm not
alone in this observation. The term âautonomistâ has appeared in recent
decades as a response to the perceived differences between âclassicalâ
anarchists, and younger more contemporary anti-authoritarian activists.
In Europe, the original organizations of many thought to be extinct
political ideologies are still alive. Small, they may be, but they are
still around. So, younger anti-authoritarians/anarchists felt compelled
to develop different organizational methods and their label. Similarly,
having described myself as being part of the anarchist persuasion during
the early â70s, it has been a circuitous route to the term
anti-authoritarian.
âAnarchistâ, is generally accepted to mean: without authority, or
without ruler. In that sense, especially â without ruler â I am, most
certainly, an anarchist.
However, life isnât nearly so simple, and, as with most other labels,
the term â anarchist â has become âvalue ladenâ. Which means that when
people read or use the term â anarchist â they readily identify it with
particular ideological, social, historical images they have carefully or
unconsciously filed in their brains. For the unconscious, the greatest
majority of people, it represents everything from bearded bomb-throwing
radicals, to pipe-smoking armchair idealists. For those with some
political and historical knowledge, those who carefully file their
definitions, an anarchist is someone that doesnât believe state power is
the object of struggle with the dominant social order but, a socially
responsible and autonomous humanity â is â the object of struggle.
At this point, the waters become rather murky. There are nearly as many
definitions of anarchy as there are anarchists! Labourists and
syndicalists view the General Strike as the jumping off point in the
creation of a classless, racismless society; to others, a committment to
the removal of technology, and anti-industrialism is the mark of a
âtrueâ anarchist. Any support for a national group or ânationalistâ
movement precludes one from being an anarchist, to others.
Situationists, post-Situationists, social ecologists, social anarchists,
anarcho-marxists, Christian anarchists, pagan anarchists, ____, ____,
fill in the blanks. All definitions of âtrueâ anarchists are based on
good analysis.
Excuse ----- me!!! As a poor, mostly self-educated, imprisoned, non-dues
paying member of any organization, or adherent to a specific anarchist
âprogramâ, I conceded. O.K.!! Maybe I am not really an anarchist. Maybe,
I should take a step backward and, dipping into the primordial ooze of
labelling, find something not so insulting to true anarchists. So, I
did. A friend, some years ago, suggested that I was an âeclecticâ
anarchist; since, I do believe that good ideas can come from most
anywhere and good people even moreso. Then, there is the term
âautonomousâ. âAutonomousâ, in the European sense, has been used to
describe non-communist party dominated socialist and communist groups,
as well as the ever more popular âautonomesâ of Germany. The autonomes
include many perspectives in its non-ranks. The term â autonomous â is
still largely unknown in the u.s. Anti-authoritarian was the term that
seemed to work best.
Like most of us, my journey began as a ârebelâ, pure and simple. Against
family, against school, against âadultsâ, against most anything that got
in my way of achieving some personal enjoyment and development in life.
I left âhomeâ, left school, and dropped-in to the world at a large, to
find all the impediments multiplied. Firstly, I recognized âageismâ as a
repressive cultural force. Secondly, I left the âfamilyâ, as an
incubator of the state, was the most repressive institution. Thirdly,
the state, the enforcer of economic disparity and manager of all other
institutions, the inhibitor of change, was the target of my rebellion.
Within the structure of the state, I swiftly recognized the police and
âcriminal justiceâ system as the immediate arm of state authority. I was
very clear on this when I was 14, 15, 16 years old. I had read lots of
history, been active in street actions in Germany and preparing for
armed action in the u.s. from 16 to 17 years of age. There was no doubt
in my mind that armed revolution was needed to affect any real change in
this system. I had learned, all too well, as the son of a career army
sergeant, that force was the only thing that the state understood.
Living near Washington, D.C., Baltimore and Annapolis, I witnessed â all
too often, the results of âpeace demonstrationsâ and sit-ins, and civil
rights marches, not to mention anti-war demos. Discussion was out of the
question. I wasnât willing to lay down and let the state, or anyone
else, beat me bloody, attack me with its dogs and shoot me, without
fighting back.
My less than perfectly executed expropriation of arms, to pass out to
liberated prisoners and a good number of 16â18 year olds, much like
myself, in L.A., in 1971, landed me in prison for 7 years. I spent those
years evaluating myself and my actions and my goals. I had recognized a
youth movement, armed youth including Black Panthers, Brown Berets and
American Indian Movement (A.I.M.) activists, and others, and headed in
the same direction. But, I had not worked closely with any of them.
Mistrust between groups of activists, separtism: political and cultural,
active campaigns by various police agencies (including the F.B.I.âs
COINTELPRO program), served to support our already deeply taught âneedâ
to function as separate communities. Except for fairly isolated events,
such as the occupation of Wounded Knee, this idea of the necessity of
racial/cultural separtism remained a dominant theme, especially in the
armed revolutionary communities. Ideologically, I proclaimed anarchism
as a goal. In practice, I operated nearly as separately as nationalists.
Still, I rejected dictatorships of any kind.
In prison, from â71 to â78, I read, like a lot of prisoners. Amongst
that mass of printed words, I began to read âfeministâ literature. It
was easy to identify with many issues raised by feminists. As the oldest
son of working parents, I had been responsible for the care and keeping
of house and brothers. Donât you know I hated being trapped, both as a
servant and as a youth, with virtually no rights in this society.
Children were, and still are, âpropertyâ of their parents, genetic
parents or otherwise. The âlawâ treats them equally shabby. This study
of womenâs writings and political analysis led me to recognize âgenderâ
as a special category of social/political relations, other than economic
class and age. Likewise, feminists pointed out, correctly, that it had
been women who have provided the backbone and sustenance of nearly all
movements. In the anarchist community, ecological issues, childcare and
education, healthcare, the anti-war/anti-nuclear movements, anti-racism
and prison abolition have been issues fought for â daily â by women. As
the numerically largest class of poor, single women with children â of
all races â bare the brunt of the stateâs oppression. They struggle with
these issues, whether they are âpopularâ or not. While men often
âstruggleâ for a short period of time, and then abscond, women,
especially those with children, have no choice but to continue to
confront the state in all its forms. Also the womenâs movement of the
â60s and â70s reaffirmed and expanded the concept of the âaffinity
groupâ, an anarchist form of organization, in which small groups of
compatible people function in a largely egalitarian manner â without
hierarchical âcommandâ structures.
In prison, I swiftly observed racial separation as a constant source of
misunderstanding, and felt all such âseparatismâ, national, or
otherwise, as divisive. We could not change this society, as anarchists,
or anything else, while observing and participating in tacit agreement
with social and cultural apartheid â u.s. style. It was in these years I
rediscovered a favourite historical period of mine. Instead of just an
isolated period of âhistoryâ, my experiences led me to realize the
deeper social and political significance of the âSeminole Warsâ of the
early 1800s. This committment to a consciously multi-cultural,
non-nationalist struggle, rather than an amorphous anarchism, propelled
me to enter a collective that reflected that committment upon my parole
in 1978.
This collective held property in common, supported prison abolition and
prisonersâ needs, womenâs struggles, and members were from a variety of
cultures and races. Study of revolutionary political material was a
constant and reflected the various origins of those involved.
Anarchists, Marxists and socialists of several varieties, lived, worked
and struggled for individual growth and with each other, as well as
against the state. It was an âeclecticâ community.
Twenty months after parole, I was captured in Seattle, for the attempted
liberation of a prisoner. Once again â I was in prison. My time on the
streets had gone much too fast. While recognizing other groups and
struggles as necessary, I had focussed on a fairly narrow spectrum of
activity. No strong alliances had a chance to grow in such a short time.
The continuing destruction of the small armed âleftâ groups in this
country and my personal experiences, caused me to look more closely at
the relative isolation of many peoples and struggles. An anarchist,
global revolution against the nation-state formation, must begin
somewhere. It must survive to struggle. I began to re-evaluate my
thoughts, actions and focus. Once again, I returned to the study of the
Seminole formations. In doing so, I found a greater commitment to
Indigenous, Native American, Indian struggles was necessary.
Recognizing genocide, colonialism and ongoing destruction of Indigenous
People and their ideas as a historical fact, is one thing, implementing
that knowledge in a meaningful way â is another. Rather than just
acknowledging that genocide and colonialism exist, we need to actively
struggle against it, now. Many Native Americans may not call themselves
âanarchistâ, but many are, clearly, anti-authoritarian in views and
practice. Instead of relying on European historical example, they rely
on their long Indigenous history. Recognizing that much of what modern
and 18^(th) and 19^(th) century activists call â anarchism â is in a
large way a result of interaction between European intellectuals and
Native American societies â is of paramount importance in this process.
Closer interaction with and support of Native struggles clearly added
âself-determination and autonomyâ for Native people to my list of goals,
along with the recognition that they have historical reasons for wishing
to organize separately.
Feminism, Womenâs Studies, gender as a special category of oppression,
led me to identify and accept struggle against other specific forms of
oppression as valid. Recognition that Black/New Afrikan, Puerto Rican,
Mexicano Peoples, and others also share specific and different
historical, intellectual and social realities, swiftly followed. This
recognition, in other than just an abstract way, is not âtrulyâ
anarchist, I have been informed on many occasions.
However, I would hold that the Seminole struggles were
anti-authoritarian in practice, and perhaps even anarchist in reality.
Rather than a mere ideological/philosophical position of âglobalismâ, or
a theoretical âanti-capitalismâ, or âalternative economyâ, or âutopianâ
multi-racial/multi-culturalism, â they actually practiced, lived, loved
and fought with those principles in the real world. Unlike many European
based anarchist, and anti-authoritarian movements and struggles, which
attempted to deny their own cultural imperatives, those that struggled
in the Seminole way acknowledged and accepted their own special
relations and histories. Rather than a false â universalism â one which
excluded those that sought autonomy within their own movement, they
practiced a true one.
Rejecting a âromanticâ view of Native American struggles is a
requirement before learning the lives and struggles of People as real.
If, we tear away the mythology and romantic view of âIndians living with
natureâ, we find a revolutionary movement in the Seminole. A movement
evolving out of the âRed Stickâ movement shortly preceding it, as well
as the social political struggles of Europe in regard to wars, growing
industrialism and the social theories and movements in England and
France, there can be little doubt that the Seminole knew of these
struggles. Seminoles had alliances with every class of people in the
young united states, especially among the anti-slavery/abolitionist
movements, allies in Europe, and the Caribbean. Furthermore, Florida was
still a Spanish colony, though, in reality, the Spanish dominated only a
few towns and some coastal areas. A number of Seminoles fought in
battles and struggled with others as far north as Connecticut. Native
Americans had been kept as slaves in Georgia and the Carolinas, at some
points it was considered âillegalâ to have Afrikans enslaved, but
âlegalâ to enslave Indians. Their legal status shifted back and forth.
But, the link between the âcimmaronesâ (Spanish for: wild and runaway),
Maroon communities and others became stronger as they helped more and
more people to escape from bondage and build a new society, one which
might eventually be able to free territory in other areas, including
Central America and Venezuela. Cimmarones became known as Seminoles.
De-centralized, participatory communities, multi-cultural and separatist
communities, autonomous decision making and plans of action, caused the
Seminole allies to be an incredibly committed and versatile foe to the
u.s. The u.s. governmentâs actions against this grouping was the most
costly ever fought here, except for the Civil War of the 1860âs. Some
bands, ones that refused to submit, still exist. Others fled to the
islands, migrated and mixed in with local populations, or were removed
to Oklahoma, as members of the Seminole People. Still others escaped the
reservation and fled to Mexico, where they waged a running war with the
u.s. for decades more. Some bands still live in Mexico.
In my attempts to translate these events and my own experiences, I have
observed the following: whether I recognize non-anarchist, nationalist,
separatist struggles, or not, they are in existence. By ignoring their
existence, because of some principle of â pre-agreement, a requirement
that these struggles reflect my own notion of a non-nation-state future
and multi- cultural struggle, I am ignoring history and the reality of
their day to day lives. By ignoring their existence, and ignoring their
struggle against what are most often our mutual oppressors, I ignore my
own desire for a non-nation-state future. âGlobalismâ, de-centralized
social and economic systems, non-nation-state formations, will only come
about through struggle. Through struggling together, trust and
confidence in our ability and commitment to our dreams, is communicated.
âGlobalismâ, must come about through mutual understanding. It will not
be imposed. A culture of anti-authoritarian struggle is necessary.
Anarchism, as a body of literature and activity which opposes
centralized state domination of social political life, is growing ever
larger. In recognition of the vastness of the sea of material available
and the swamp of views represented, I have used the label â
anti-authoritarian â to keep the door, so to speak. There is every
reason to allow people to grow and learn and make additions to
anti-authoritarian theory and practice. If we narrow our movement to
some narrowly defined âtrueâ anarchism, we have excluded many of those
we wish to, or claim to wish to, communicate with. Young people, in
particular, are much more open to the need for a multi-cultural practice
than those of my own generation, for instance. It matters less, to me,
that young activists understand every nuance of the struggles between
historical anarchism and marxism, in its intricacy and confusion, than
their day to day practice of an anti-authoritarian nature. None of us,
not one, were suddenly endowed with all of this information. To expect
young, or old, activists, to suddenly understand what took many of us
decades to compile, or even to agree with it, is ludicrous, to say the
least. In fact, it is from this new generation of activists that a new
language of global struggle will emerge. The assuredly âEuro-centricâ
language and practice of anti-authoritarian/anarchist theory, is in for
a very healthy, and long-overdue, infusion of life.
In effect, I would rather be called anti-authoritarian and spend my time
and energy struggling to build a non-nation-state world, than to argue
to infinity about the definition of a âtrueâ anarchist. Either anarchism
has the ability to retain an evolutionary approach to problems, analysis
and struggle, or it will be rejected by yet another generation of
activists, in favour of quick-fix, short-term, pseudo-democratic and
authoritarian alternatives. Those that wish to trap themselves in an
ideologically suicidal classicalism, may do so. I, for one, reject that
crystalization of thought and practice, which would doom the fertile and
living body of knowledge and experience we call anarchism, and, yes,
anti-authoritarian.
Let us practice globalism. Let us be real, sincere, and effective allies
to each other. Whether active in anti-nuclear, ecology, anti-racism,
squatting, prison abolition, anti- colonialism, cultural movements,
womenâs movements or others it is time to recognize each other. Practice
the knowledge we have confidence in. Confidence. A lack of fear that
contact with âothersâ, somehow â unlike ourselves, will destroy us, or
take away our knowledge, change us. Confidence will build flexibility.
False confidence and fear, create rigidity. Can we reaffirm anarchismâs
roots by becoming anti-authoritarian? I hope so.
Larry Giddings
Sweltering heat, noxious exhaust fumes and endless tail-lights. Sundown
in L.A. The sawed-off shotgun riding across my lap, hand on the stock,
seems to make all the sounds of the city just a little sharper, the
smells a little richer. Honking horns, changing gears, radio drifting in
from other vehicles, drowning out our own. Cigarette smoke mixed with
the growing sweat of pre-combat anxiety, as I sat in the back of the
van. Just a few short minutes to go and we, my cohorts and myself, would
arrive at our destination. We werenât talking much. The radio filled the
silences between last second details. The news bulletin just sort of
slipped itself in-between rock & roll on the radio. The sister up front
turned up the volume. âNews Flash! Shootout and death at San Quentin!â
There were no thoughts as the descriptions, in all of its confusion,
came across the speakers. Guards killed, prisoners killed, â...George
Jackson dead in prison yard... attempting to escape.â âImpossible!,â
said the escapee, riding in the passenger seat up front. âNo way would
he be trying to escape where they claim.â We were fast approaching our
destination. There was no time for discussion. Preparing to go, driving
and the last minute details of taking an armed action, caused us to miss
the earlier news. How many prisoners died? How would this effect us in
L.A.? There was no time to discuss it. The van pulled over to the curb
and we piled out, taking over the store and packing weapons to haul
away. Workers and customers were left safe in the back as we attempted
to flee, upon the arrival of the L.A. Sheriffâs and 20 other
departments. Lots of shooting later, and four wounded.
Lying in a high-security hospital bed, chained to it, I realized we
werenât going to liberate a group of prisoners as previously planned.
August 21, 1971 came and went with thoughts of prisons, struggle,
revolution, liberations, sweat, blood and dreams. Jonathan Jackson dies
attempting to liberate friends and soldiers of the BLA. A year and a few
weeks later, George Jackson was gunned down for speaking and informing
people of their rights as human beings, their right to live without
racism and oppression of many kinds. George died, and many suffered. The
FBI âCOINTELPROâ program which worked so hard to destroy many nascent
movements did kill George.
A decade or so later, George Jacksonâs mother was awarded $1 in a civil
case, proving that her son was murdered and that he was not trying to
escape. Angela Davis is still teaching. Geronimo Pratt (Black Panther
Party) is still in prison for a âcrimeâ he did not commit. Assata Shakur
(BLA) is alive and well in Cuba. Sundiata Acoli is in Leavenworth.
Others are at Marion, and prisons all over the country. San Quentin
still standds. Leonard Peltier (AIM), known to be innocent of the
charges at Pine Ridge, is still in prison.
The prison system in the U.S. is now doubling in size every 5 years. The
prison system is 8 time, or more, larger than it was in 1971.
âCOINTELPROâ still exists in many guises. Expansion of police powers is
explosive. The Supreme Court and other civil bodies are as active as
ever in decreasing the ability of citizens to express themselves
artistically, socially, politically or otherwise.
Twenty years have passed. Every August 21^(st), I think of that August
21^(st) in 1971. I relive that long ride through the streets of L.A.,
the news reports, the guns and bullets and the thoughts of why I was not
there. The death of George Jackson was not just linked to L.A. Georgeâs
death has linked many people for decades. That long ride caused me to
spend years in prison and learn more about George, from those who knew
him. It has been twenty years. In that time, I have come to know that
there are mnay George Jacksons. They still live in prison cells and they
still struggle. August 21^(st) is a good day to remember them and know
it is only our vigilance that keeps them alive.