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Title: Toward Insurrection
Author: Anonymous
Date: Summer 2021
Language: en
Topics: United States of America, whiteness, George Floyd uprising, Black Lives Matter
Source: Retrieved on 2021-07-03 from [[https://phlanticap.noblogs.org/toward-insurrection-anarchist-strategy-in-an-era-of-popular-revolt/]]
Notes: Submitted to Philly Anti-Capitalist.towardsinsurrection@riseup.net

Anonymous

Toward Insurrection

Introduction

What role can anarchists in the United States play in popular uprisings

like the ones of 2020? While many of us made solid contributions to the

riots, the events of last year also highlighted some of our significant

deficiencies. Anarchists’ attempts to show up to riots in the ways in

which we’re accustomed, at least here in Philly, often felt ineffective

and at best out of touch with those around us. I still believe that

anarchists have the potential to contribute in crucial ways to

destroying this system and making another end of the world possible. At

this point, though, a willingness to reflect on and question our views

is needed in order to really move in that direction.

This question of anarchist participation is fundamentally intertwined

with issues around race and whiteness, and the past year’s discourse on

the topic has felt typically inadequate in addressing these questions.

Leaving the bad-faith nature of many of the critiques aside, many white

anarchists have found it easier to dismiss criticisms by automatically

conflating them with liberalism or political opportunism. While this is

often accurate, it shouldn’t allow us to not take questions about our

relationship to whiteness seriously. Whiteness isn’t just a skin color

that non-white people happen to be skeptical of. It’s also a particular

kind of colonized (and colonizing) mentality that restricts our

imagination and can affect everything from how we interact in the

streets to what we as individuals personally envision as our

insurrectionary future (or lack thereof).

Aside from the anarchists who were radicalized over this past year, most

anarchists today came into radical politics through resistance to

Trump’s presidency (which centered on an “antifa” that was majority

white in the public imaginary, and often in reality), an Occupy movement

dominated by white progressives, or what are now called the

anti-globalization struggles of the early 2000’s. Throughout these

movements, anarchists of color have also appeared alongside white

anarchists in the streets, though not necessarily identifying with them,

and have tried to carve out space for the primacy of anti-racist

struggles. But this past year has been a visceral and unavoidable

reminder that Black (as well as Indigenous) radical struggles against

the state have always been and continue to be far more powerful than

most anarchists’ occasional vandalisms, or even our more targeted (but

isolated) acts of property destruction.

This article tries to take seriously the claim that white people,

including white anarchists, will not be the protagonists of liberatory

struggle in the United States — not in order to marginalize anarchists’

uncompromised visions of freedom from the state, capital, and white

supremacy, but instead to reveal some underexplored strategies for how

we might actually get there. Today we face an unprecedented crisis of

capital and the state, and despite our best efforts none of us can

predict how any of it will shake out. Despite the Biden administration’s

best efforts to restore order and recuperate rebellion, it feels like

the chaos that boiled over last year is fated to return, especially as

ecological and economic collapse creep closer and the everyday

executions of Black people continue with no particular changes that we

can observe. In this context, we look around and take our inspiration

from the resistance we see actually happening, even if it counteracts

some of our inherited assumptions and desires. Right now, all

possibilities are on the table.

This essay begins with some brief reflections on anarchist activity in

the context of uprisings in several cities in the U.S. over this past

year. In cities like Portland and Seattle, anarchist activity has shown

both the potential and the limits of some tried- and-true tactics of the

insurrectionary anarchist approach that’s been established in the U.S.

over the past couple decades. The rest of the essay explores other

traditions that might expand our sense of how insurrections occur and

how we might personally participate in moving things in that direction.

We also include [not in the online version] a Philly-specific map that

we hope will provide a useful resource for readers in Philly. Maybe

it’ll also inspire others elsewhere in how they approach future moments

of potential insurrection and State collapse.

Anarchist Strategy in the Streets

Unlike cities like Philly, where open conflict with the cops erupted for

only a few days and was quickly followed by weeks of peaceful protests,

Portland protesters kept rioting against the police all summer and have

been an inspiration for their bravery and dedication in the streets. For

the past year, black blocs have consistently done “direct actions” in

which they marched to a police building or until they were met with a

line of riot cops, where fighting and destruction would ensue.

From afar, it also looks like clandestine actions have been on the rise

in Portland since at least the fall of 2020. The recently published zine

“This Rose Has Thorns: A Year of Anarchist Attacks in So-Called

Portland” compiles communiques from these actions, including one that

reports setting an unattended cop car on fire overnight (it also

references the four police vehicles that were similarly targeted in

Philly in August 2020). These acts seem strategically important, not

necessarily in their immediate impact, but at least in developing skills

that can help take riots to the next level or prepare people to take

part in some kind of guerilla strategy, if the State reaches a certain

point of instability. The April 12th attack on Portland Police Bureau

cars in their parking lot, while a demonstration was attacking cops

head-on at the sheriff’s headquarters elsewhere, is an example of moving

towards this type of anarchist contribution to a mass uprising.

The communiques accompanying these actions seem to be thinking through

some of the limits of Portland’s ongoing street-fighting strategy. One

communique notes that “the cops have made public statements addressing

how they are not responding to 911 calls due to their focus on brutally

attacking and arresting protesters,” implying that this frees up

possibilities for anarchists to attack outside demos. The writers

additionally note that “the police are not (and should not) be our only

target” (“Starbucks and Whole Foods Attacked for Night 100”). Another

communique reports removing and destroying dozens of Amazon Ring and

Google Nest doorbell cameras, encouraging us to expand our understanding

of law enforcement to include these elements of surveillance.

The goals expressed in this communique and others, though, are

themselves limited to spreading action across the city — which in

reality is not a goal, but more like a strategy for getting to one. We

tend not to name the goal itself — insurrection? — maybe because it

seems so far out of reach, or because we believe that insurrection is an

ongoing process, rather than a one-and-done event like the “revolutions”

of the past. It remains to be said, though, that going out to fight the

cops head-on night after night is not a limited strategy because it

doesn’t stretch the cops thin enough — although that is certainly true —

but because it seems unlikely to destroy what we ultimately want to see

destroyed.

While radicals in Portland seem to be concentrating on escalating

street-fighting tactics and honing their ability to do targeted

clandestine attacks, anarchists in Seattle have proposed broadening

these approaches through decentralized action. “Decentralized Action: A

Brief History and Tactical Proposal” (published on Puget Sound

Anarchists in November 2020) describes the regular marches as “daily

actions tying up and attacking the infrastructure which maintains the

white-supremacist American police state” and notes that the “high

visibility of these ongoing actions opens up considerable space for

decentralized militant actions to occur away from the public callouts.”

The proposal emphasizes decentralizing action in order to minimize

police efficacy (with examples ranging from incidents during the George

Floyd rebellions, to attacks on fascists, to prior years’ May Day calls

for autonomous actions). It proposes attacking targets elsewhere in the

city at the same time that mass public mobilizations are happening.

I think it’s important in these moments to be clear about how exactly

this might move us towards collective liberation. Is the idea to take a

kind of vengeful pleasure as the cops become spread thin and helpless,

lacking resources and publicly losing their shit? Regardless of whatever

else happened, I think a lot of us experienced that particular type of

joy last summer. Is it to experiment with our capacity to attack,

pitting ourselves against the vast resources of the state? Is it a kind

of practice for an insurrection, with many more steps yet to be taken?

Could it itself lead to an insurrection?

Anarchists’ Role in the Riot

In Philly, anarchists were far from being the main character of the 2020

uprisings. Most anarchists attended the Walter Wallace riots around 52nd

St in October in an observational or supportive role, joining the fierce

street fighting initiated by the majority-black residents of that

neighborhood. In that context, those who arrived in black bloc were met

with skepticism and occasionally with violence. At least one group of

anarchists in bloc got jumped near 52nd St, while another pair were

accused of being cops, then agitators, and narrowly avoided being

attacked.

It was heartwarming to see multi-racial groups of people coming together

to fight cops in the streets and set things on fire — this happened

especially in May, when riots erupted in the wealthier downtown,

commercial zone where none of us had anything at stake and everything

felt up for grabs. The antipathy towards anarchists in bloc, though,

when the riots moved to West Philly — a gentrifying neighborhood where

many of us live, but are not originally from — shows us that these

multi-racial moments of struggle are far from doing away the real

hierarchies and differences between us, even in the joy and chaos of the

moment. Many of us who are white anarchists severely underestimate the

extent to which non-white people, whether rebels or reactionaries,

distrust white people, regardless of what they hear us say about our

politics. This distrust is heightened when they see us in their places

of residence.

This brings up questions of how (or whether) to participate in such

uprisings, and how to present ourselves in the process. One approach

would be to show up in a role that’s clearly supportive and shows

solidarity — handing out rocks and bats to people fighting cops,

offering assistance to people getting tear gassed while looting. Others

have pointed out the importance of responding to accusations against us

in the moment, when possible, and engaging in conversations about what

we’re doing there and why.

As white radicals we can only get more answers to these questions by

having more honest conversations about how we relate to and carry

ourselves in the midst of a struggle that is fundamentally about and

carried out by Black people. As a multi- racial anarchist space, we can

look for additional answers by considering how we as anarchists can

contribute to destabilizing State power in ways that only we as

anarchists will want to do (this aspect is addressed in the following

section, “Beyond the Riot”). In the case of white radicals especially,

it would benefit us to pay closer attention to what non-anarchists are

saying, since our subcultural isolation can lead us to make mistaken

assumptions about what we have in common with other rioters. Anarchists

often see riots as some kind of confirmation of our own desires and ways

of seeing things, for example, when in reality there is probably a lot

going on there that is well out of the scope of our experience and

understanding. This doesn’t mean compromising our core principles, it

just means that none of us know everything and we can benefit from being

more flexible and creative, something we pride ourselves on as

anarchists anyway.

One example would be to consider the conditions under which something

like black bloc emerged and why we tend to react so defensively whenever

that tactic is questioned. The bloc has been a major point of identity

for most of us anarchists in the U.S. since, to my knowledge, the

anti-globalization struggles of the 2000s. In the era of summit-hopping,

anarchists would form a massive bloc within an even larger, more liberal

march. This allowed them to signal militancy while also using the

bigger, more liberal crowd as a shield. This use of bloc continued in

bigger cities more recently, for example in New York during the Occupy

era.

It’s also accustomed us to having to constantly defend the use of bloc —

to liberals — since it is now (usually correctly) associated with an

intention to escalate or to support escalation in the context of a

public demonstration. Despite these interminable arguments, bloc has

still been the best way to keep ourselves safe while we engage in

property destruction or otherwise break the law. Everyone wearing the

same color provides anonymity on a whole different level.

But what about when the larger crowd around us is not a bunch of (mostly

white) liberals and pacifists, but Black or other non-white people who

are for the most part attacking the police and businesses much more

intensely than the individuals in bloc? When people from those

populations are threatening or attacking us for arriving dressed all in

black, maybe that is no longer the safest outfit for us. Maybe more

conversations and propaganda will open up understanding as to why we

dress that way, but in its absence, it is understandable why the

intentions of a group of white people in bloc roving around a riotous

Black neighborhood, the residences and existences of whom have already

been under threat by white people for generations, are not automatically

trusted. And when we are mostly barely keeping up in the streets, and

are not really capable of defending ourselves from attack by people we

thought might be comrades, does the militancy of the all-black aesthetic

really still feel appropriate for us?

The geography of the city is complex and also worth considering along

race and class lines, whether in the context of mass rioting or

autonomous demos. On the first night of the riots following Walter

Wallace’s death in October, the big march that gathered in West Philly

split between protesters who headed east to the more gentrified

University City area, and others who turned back west to the precinct

where Wallace’s family was gathered. Tension erupted in this split

between people who felt that everyone should follow the lead of the

grieving family and people who wanted to target UCity because it was a

whiter and wealthier neighborhood. In the end, the UCity march did

significant damage to police stations in that neighborhood and marched

victoriously back west to 52nd Street, where by that time rioting and

looting had already been initiated on a massive scale by residents of

that area.

Beyond the Riot

Anarchists are not necessarily the most militant rioters or looters,

then, but we have visions of a future free of oppression, and of how to

get there, that others may not. With regard to street fighting and

action, this means we can think purposefully and in advance about what

we might target in moments of mass uprisings. As the Seattle anarchists

and others have pointed out, we can intentionally decentralize our

attacks so as to make it harder for police to do their job. This can

prolong riots and expand the scope of an uprising’s destructiveness, but

let’s not lose sight of the fact that the most desirable outcome of this

approach would be to ultimately make that job — policing — permanently

impossible. In order to do so, we must again think not only about

decentralizing our actions, but also what our actions target. What

elements of the State might we be able to take out that, coordinated

with a sustained crisis of policing, could take mass uprisings over the

precipice of State collapse?

These questions might feel like a total nosedive into the realm of

fantasy at this point (sorry to the Philly nihilists reading this), but

I think it makes sense for those of us who talk about destroying the

State and are out in the streets about it to think about how we might

get there. Moreover, if things eventually do get completely out of the

State’s control, how would we then help hold whatever it is we’ve

gained? Especially if defending a city like Philly involves opening up

resources on a massive scale, so that the State can’t creep back in

because it turns out people can’t live without it. It also involves

protecting comrades against right-wing mob reaction and intervening so

that certain other groups can’t swoop in and turn it all into some kind

of disgusting authoritarian socialist paradise. It’s not possible, nor

is it desirable, for us to plan these things in advance, but that

doesn’t mean we shouldn’t think and dream and prepare for them.

In the Bay Area, radicals have taken up a use of clandestine attack

that, while not happening at exactly the same time as mass protests in

the streets, capitalizes on popular sentiment against governance and

directly targets those responsible. In July 2020, as resistance swelled

around the crises of policing and housing, vandals targeted the mayor of

Oakland’s home; in January 2021, Nancy Pelosi’s house in San Francisco

was vandalized along with that of Mitch McConnell in Kentucky,

expressing widespread rage at the time about the U.S. government’s

failure to give us our money. Also in January, more than 30 anti-racists

attacked San Francisco’s ICE office, expressing an intention “to

initiate what will hopefully be the first in a series of breaks into and

out of prisons and detention centers throughout the country.” It remains

to be seen if more of us will dare to emulate (and take much further)

actions like these that directly target State institutions and the

individuals in charge, especially in moments when the destabilizing

context of mass protests might exponentially multiply such attacks’

effects.

The Context of Anti-State Struggle in the United States

The picture I’ve been painting of black bloc anarchists stepping into a

Black neighborhood that’s already on fire leads us to some bigger

questions about the context in which most anarchists find ourselves in

this blood-soaked, colonized, white supremacist continent. When we ask

the deep question — how could an insurrection actually happen here? —

and begin to prepare ourselves to participate in its answer, we must

take into account several things.

The United States is an enemy as such, but also insofar as it is still

the primary manager of a capitalist world system. Less acknowledged and

even less understood, the United States is also a settler colonial

project that depends for its existence on an ongoing legacy of chattel

slavery. Certain populations on this continent have been at war with the

settler project, whether to maintain territory or evade forced labor,

since its inception. While there have certainly been many white radicals

and anarchists who took immense risks to fight American oppression, the

most forceful and effective resistance has by necessity always been by

Black people and Indigenous nations directly threatened with extinction

by the U.S. Studying these historical successes and their limitations

can offer us some important insights into how insurrection could spread

in the United States.

Though we can call very few revolutions or struggles “successful” when

global capitalism and colonization are still in effect, the experiments

of insurgents demonstrate pretty conclusively the limits of

centralization and the advantages of decentralized fighting when it

comes to winning particular battles or regaining stolen territory.

Russell Maroon Shoatz, a formerly BLA-affiliated political prisoner and

theorist, argues that the Maroon tradition in North and South America

shows over and over again the efficacy of decentralized warfare, rather

than a centralized party or vanguard: “Throughout the western

hemisphere, we witness these collective Maroons developing and using a

very effective form of decentralized organizing that not only served to

help them defeat their former enslavers, but has helped them remain

autonomous from all unwanted overseers for hundreds of years – until our

time” (110).

As Shoatz points out in his discussion of the history of Suriname, the

Africans who had been brought there and then became Maroons were from

many different backgrounds from one another. This was another reason it

was crucial to organize in a decentralized manner; they managed to stick

together through a “collective focus on defeating their enslavers’

attempts to control them” (110). This was the only thing like

“centralization” that brought them together, given the significant

differences among them. Decisions were made democratically, according to

Maroon’s research, then coordinated and carried out by decentralized

groups. Decentralization, as many insurrectionary anarchists have also

tried to point out, does not have to mean a lack of coordination. These

formations prevented imperial powers like the Dutch and English from

being able to target a particular group or leadership and thus take out

the whole movement. Decentralization is the only way to make an

insurrectionary movement unbeatable against a resourced and centralized

State power.

The Haitian Revolution from 1791-1804, which is the only revolution in

which an enslaved population rebelled against their imperial captors and

won, also used decentralized elements. Once the revolution was over, its

leaders came into power and sought to tie Haitian peasants to plantation

agriculture once more and force their participation in the global

economy. Ordinary Haitians resisted this throughout the 1800s, acquiring

land for themselves rather than working for others. They withdrew from

the market economy by squatting former plantations, moving to remote

mountains, and literally hiding their farms from view. This land-based

strategy was coupled with armed resistance from below — setting fire to

slave huts, sugar mills, and other plantation infrastructure, plus

continued practices of West African voodoo and secret societies, which

nurtured traditional spirituality and the lifeways of a culture.

Johnhenry Gonzalez notes that by seeking refuge in the hills and

appropriating land on which to grow their own food, they gradually

undermined the plantation system and ultimately destroyed it. Gonzalez

argues that these land- based approaches made Haiti a “maroon nation”

that lived outside the world economy of its day.

The original Indigenous inhabitants of what is now the United States

also managed to maintain their distance for generations despite state

aggression. This history has many potential lessons and ways of

reshaping our worldviews, and we can’t do it justice here. The most

fundamental lesson, though, is again about the primacy of land — the

United States remains a settler-colonial nation that is all about

maintaining its hold on land that it stole.

This is technically true of any nation-state (that its fundamental goal

is to take and hold territory), but in a settler-colonial one like the

U.S., it means, first of all, that the U.S. has specialized methods of

taking and controlling territory that it continues to use on all the

populations it controls domestically and attacks abroad. James Grenier

calls this the “American way of war” — a type of irregular warfare

“whose purpose is to destroy the will of the enemy people or their

capacity to resist, employing any means necessary but mainly by

attacking civilians and their support systems, such as food

supply...[It] encouraged attacks upon and the destruction of

noncombatants, villages and agricultural resources ... in shockingly

violent campaigns to achieve their goals of conquest” (Grenier, quoted

in Dunbar-Ortiz 58, 219).

It also means that the U.S. remains in a (mostly hidden) ongoing war

with those it stole the land from, many of whom are still here. We can

approach our insurrectionary aspirations in part by making that war more

visible and taking a side in it, and with the understanding that the

land has been devastated by settlers and needs to be restored to those

who have historically shown they are committed to more responsible

relations with it. Moreover, many radicals’ utopian ideals or notions

(such as “the commons”) are at best tone-deaf to the realities of

Indigenous people, and in many cases perpetuate settlers’ hold on the

land instead of taking steps to end it. Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz writes in

her introduction to An Indigenous Peoples’ History of the United States,

with regard to the willful optimism shared by liberals and many

radicals: “Those who seek history with an upbeat ending, a history of

redemption and reconciliation, may look around and observe that such a

conclusion is not visible, not even in utopian dreams of a better

society” (2).

Moreover, while individual racists unfortunately exist all around the

world, a specific kind of white supremacist vigilante violence has

played a key role in establishing and upholding settler colonies like

the United States. Dunbar-Ortiz writes: “Western empire was brought

about by ‘small groups of frontiersmen, separated from each other by

great distances,” i.e. settler rangers who autonomously destroyed

Indigenous towns and food supplies. America’s values of democracy and

dispersed, self-sufficient individualism continue to encourage its

citizens to independently take initiative to enforce its racist order —

the white vigilante mobs we see today are the continuation of a

foundational traditional that is critical to the operation of the United

States.

Peter Gelderloos (and many others) have argued that this makes the

framework of “anti-fascism” insufficient in a context like the U.S. —

settler states encourage a diffuse model of white supremacy, rather than

fascism’s centralized model, “because the entire point is to get all

people who are classified as white to reproduce it voluntarily” (35). As

Yannick Giovanni Marshall writes, “The right to go on a racist

expedition to stop, harass, and kill with effective impunity was not

invented by the modern police but was woven into the settler project of

the US colony. It is an assumed birthright in settler culture.”

Moreover, in contrast to the disciplined adherents of a fascist

government, the white mobs of a settler society often seemingly

“conflict” with the official views or practices of the government (as

Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz has outlined), but ultimately align as two

complementary strategies of enforcing racial order with and without the

law. For example, “the regular army provided lethal backup for settler

counterinsurgency in slaughtering the buffalo, the food supply of Plains

peoples, as well as making continuous raids on settlements to kill or

confine the families of the Indigenous fighters” (Dunbar-Ortiz, 220).

Hence the apparent conflict between white mobs and the U.S. government —

most recently with the notorious January 6th Capitol takeover — which in

reality serves the U.S.’s white supremacist project, while allowing the

State itself to look relatively innocent in the process.

A Broader Strategy

What does this all mean for insurrectionaries here and now in the United

States? While we’ve already discussed the need for destructive attacks

and other major interventions into moments of widespread unrest, the

following concepts might help develop a longer-game approach to

insurrection:

another mobilization, those of us who are drawn to this sort of thing

can also study guerilla strategy and skills, as this would be the way to

go up against the State (and everyday right-wing vigilantes) in the

event of an actual collapse.

of rebellion and our role in it should be discussed honestly within

anarchist spaces, political organizations, friend groups, and/or other

people in our lives, especially across racial lines if possible. The

point of this is to build trust and relationships that can push back

against and betray whiteness, Eurocentricism, and everything else the

State stands for. As we saw last year, the State and the media

aggressively attempt to worsen interracial distrust once multi-racial

uprisings break out, so working on building what foundations we can in

advance would help us all emerge stronger from repression and deter

recuperation. We will not be able to accomplish much without figuring

out how to operate together (to a certain extent) despite our

significant differences.

in 2015, “In whatever form, we must all start posing the question of

survival. This means that the projects and activities we encourage and

amplify through organization should concern themselves with the

self-organization of life; that they should be useful for us as well as

for other people; that they should support and augment our capacities of

struggle, understanding struggle as a basic aspect of survival for

people who desire liberty” (45). Survival-based strategies and

fighting-based strategies (similarly to social and anti-social

insurrectionalism) are most effective when they complement one another

in a kind of ecosystem of struggle. The authors cite as an example: “As

a Mapuche comrade said, explaining a project for generating electricity

in a community in resistance, ‘We don’t want to generate our own

electricity just to achieve self-sufficiency. By making our own

electricity, we can attack and sabotage the infrastructures of the State

and the companies that occupy our territory, infrastructures we

currently depend on’” (46).

whenever possible to Indigenous stewardship is an aspect of the

“collective survival” strategy discussed above, but such a foundational

one that it merits its own discussion. Capitalism, or civilization more

broadly, relies on cutting people off from self-sufficiency, a major

component of which is the ability to grow food and access water.

Restoring these abilities is crucial to ending capitalism and all other

forms of social control; it broadens the possibility of autonomous

survival. Indigenous people are at the forefront of this effort not just

for ethical reasons, but for practical ones, since many still carry

traditional knowledge of how the land works. As Dunbar-Ortiz writes,

“Indigenous peoples offer possibilities for life after empire” (235).

repression and the well-known Leftist betrayals of revolutionary

undertakings in the 20th century, we are also up against white vigilante

groups that aggressively seek to carry on the legacy of their settler

ancestors. Self-defense is important and we should all be down to assess

and discuss with our close comrades what our capacity is for dealing

with these kinds of threats, and what skills we still need to learn. Not

everyone has to take part in these types of struggles, but those of us

who say we want to need to be honest with ourselves about what we’re

willing to do.

References and Recommended Reading

States

Minnesotan Lie”

Democracy and the Crisis of Capitalism”

Islamic State, the Crisis, and Outer Space”

email:

towardsinsurrection@riseup.net