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Title: Outsider Anarchism
Author: Margaret Killjoy
Date: July 19, 2010
Language: en
Topics: book review, science fiction, The Anvil Review, review
Source: Retrieved on September 12, 2015 from https://web.archive.org/web/20150912032836/http://theanvilreview.org/print/outsider_anarchism/

Margaret Killjoy

Outsider Anarchism

Five award-winning science fiction writers got together, wrote a

shared-world fiction anthology that explores explicitly anarchist

solutions to the world’s problems, and then got the cast of Battlestar

Galactica to read them as an audiobook. And the anarchists, by and

large, took no notice.

METAtropolis–released as an audiobook in 2008 and finally reaching trade

paperback printing only this year in 2010–is a fascinating piece of

outsider anarchist fiction. The authors are not consciously political

radicals, but they are clearly inspired by the possibilities of autonomy

that have been opened up in the 21^(st) century. I would guess that not

a one of them has read Bakunin, Rolling Thunder, or anarchistnews.org;

they’ve struck upon the idea of mutual aid economics and horizontal

structuring largely in a vacuum. They’re completely unfettered by the

assumptions that so many of us carry with us at all times.

This isn’t to say that they’ve created utopias, or that the societies

presented in METAtropolis deserve to be copied and pasted into a

“traditional” anarchist context, only that these outsider pieces are

useful–in showing us that there are many roads to anarchy–and

fascinating.

The basic premise of the anthology is to explore–or perhaps explode–the

concept of cities after the collapse of most of the tenants of western

civilization, but not after an apocalypse. After an economic and

governmental collapse.

The first piece is perhaps the most obvious example of the

contradictions and the sordid beauty of a naive look at anarchism: Tyger

Tyger by Jay Lake describes eco-anarchists who live in the forests of

Cascadia. They are technology workers, genetic engineers who’s main

cultural export is open-source genetic code. They’ve got a slight bit of

military hierarchy and they’ve got torture chambers for their political

enemies. Their borders are closed and fiercely controlled. Not the sort

of piece that a classical anarchist would write.

Elizabeth Bear describes a scavenger society built on reputation

economics, a new-world-in-the-shell-of-the-old culture of recyclers and

communists who’ve never read any Marx. But she also gets at the heart of

what is being offered in the anthology: no author is trying to blueprint

a utopia. One character in Bear’s story points out: “It’s not a utopia.

It’s just maybe something that sucks a little less.”

Tobias S. Buckell describes an arguably horizontal nomadic structure

that travels the country, happily utilizing a diversity of tactics from

protest to bombings to shut down police infrastructure and build

vertical farms and other monuments to sustainability wherever they go.

They ride bikes and forcibly dismantle people’s cars, and are a sort of

fanatical–yet sympathetic–cult of “zero footprinters.”

John Scalzi describes a more traditional, hierarchical city but

sympathizes heavily with the barbarians at its gates, and Karl Schroeder

describes an augmented reality city on top of a city with its own

post-scarcity economic structure.

I’m not just fascinated by the cultures that these stories present, I’m

fascinated by their authors’ point of entry. I would suggest that

technology culture in the 21^(st) century is leaning more and more

towards anarchist approaches. Centralization is being outed as the demon

it is: centralization and homogeny are understood as the bane of a

healthy online network, and many are beginning to realize that the same

is true of offline networks. A sort of neo-tribalism is on the rise, as

is simply understanding that people and cultures are more fascinating

when viewed as webs, as horizontal networks, than as rigidly controlled

and highly-formalized structures.

What’s more, intellectual property is increasingly out of vogue. A sort

of anarcho-futurist mentality is on the rise: that we should borrow and

steal freely from each other’s ideas, that copyright laws are an

imposition on our aesthetic and creative freedom, that they stand in the

way of moving our culture forward–or outward, or in whatever direction

it feels like moving. Some are, I would argue, even beginning to

understand that it is not that we steal ideas from one another, but that

public, enclosure of what by nature ought to be the commons. Knowledge

knows no scarcity and there is no reason to charge for its

dissemination.

Slowly, this critique of intellectual property is filtering out into

meatspace, and now in the 21^(st) century many geeks are coming to their

own understandings of what Proudhon so famously stated in the 19^(th):

property is theft.

Radicals would be fools to ignore this sudden appearance of

fellow-travelers.

There is plenty to be critical about in METAtropolis, to be certain. I

know many people who will reject the entire thing whole-hog because it

proposes (or at least describes) genetically engineering pigs to better

feed a “green” city. Its critique of technology is quite specialized,

its critique of capital is occasionally bizarre, and its portrayal of

protests is actually sort of cute in its naivety. But still, these

authors are intelligent people and their proposals merit consideration

at the very least.

But I’m not as concerned with how this might influence the radical crowd

as I am excited about how this might influence a broader audience.

Fiction is a powerful medium for the dissemination of radical thought,

and here it has been utilized quite effectively: the line between utopia

and dystopia are so blurred that it is almost impossible to take ideas

from the book as prescriptive, and anarchism is presented as a fairly

non-ideological movement or idea. There are no black flags, but there is

squatting, permaculture, and direct action. And thank heavens, there’s

no appealing to the state. A mainstream book that talks about solutions

to political problems without a hint of reformism: I can handle that.