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Eugene Debs and the Kingdom of Evil

15 Aug

The socialist leader understood that justice and economic equality will come only from overthrowing the capitalist elites.

TERRE HAUTE, Ind.—Eugene Victor Debs, whose home is an infrequently visited museum on the campus of Indiana State University, was arguably the most important political figure of the 20th century. He built the socialist movement in America and was eventually crucified by the capitalist class when he and hundreds of thousands of followers became a potent political threat.

Debs burst onto the national stage when he organized a railroad strike in 1894 after the Pullman Co. cut wages by up to one-third but did not lower rents in company housing or reduce dividend payments to its stockholders. Over a hundred thousand workers staged what became the biggest strike in U.S. history on trains carrying Pullman cars.

The response was swift and brutal.

“Mobilizing all the powers of capital, the owners, representing twenty-four railroads with combined capital of $818,000,00, fought back with the courts and the armed forces of the Federal government behind them,” Barbara W. Tuchman writes in “The Proud Tower: A Portrait of the World Before the War, 1890-1914.” “Three thousand police in the Chicago area were mobilized against the strikers, five thousand professional strikebreakers were sworn in as Federal deputy marshals and given firearms; ultimately six thousand Federal and State troops were brought in, less for the protection of property and the public than to break the strike and crush the union.”

Attorney General Richard Olney, who as Tuchman writes “had been a lawyer for railroads before entering the Cabinet and was still a director of several lines involved in the strike,” issued an injunction rendering the strike illegal. The conflict, as Debs would write, was a battle between “the producing classes and the money power of the country.”

Debs and the union leaders defied the injunction. They were arrested, denied bail and sent to jail for six months. The strike was broken. Thirty workers had been killed. Sixty had been injured. Over 700 had been arrested. The Pullman Co. hired new workers under “yellow dog contracts,” agreements that forbade them to unionize.

 

 

When he was in jail, Debs read the works of socialist writers Edward Bellamyand Karl Kautsky as well as Karl Marx’s “Das Kapital.” The books, especially Marx’s three volumes, set the “wires humming in my system.”

“I was to be baptized in Socialism in the roar of the conflict. … [I]n the gleam of every bayonet and the flash of every rifle the class struggle was revealed,” he writes. “This was my first practical lesson in Socialism.”

Debs came to the conclusion that no strike or labor movement could ultimately be successful as long as the government was controlled by the capitalist class. Any advances made by an organized working class would be reversed once the capitalists regained absolute power, often by temporarily mollifying workers with a few reforms. Working men and women had to achieve political power, a goal of Britain’s Labour Party for workers at the time, or they would forever be at the mercy of the bosses.

Debs feared the rise of the monolithic corporate state. He foresaw that corporations, unchecked, would expand to “continental proportions and swallow up the national resources and the means of production and distribution.” If that happened, he warned, the long “night of capitalism will be dark.”

This was a period in U.S. history when many American Christians were socialists. Walter Rauschenbusch, a Christian theologian, Baptist minister and leader of the Social Gospel movement, thundered against capitalism. He defined the six pillars of the “kingdom of evil” as “religious bigotry, the combination of graft and political power, the corruption of justice, the mob spirit (being ‘the social group gone mad’) and mob action, militarism[,] and class contempt.”

Debs turned to the Bible as often to Marx, arguing “Cain was the author of the competitive theory” and the “cross of Jesus stands as its eternal denial.” Debs’ fiery speeches, replete with words like “sin” and “redemption,” were often thinly disguised sermons. He equated the crucified Christ with the abolitionist John Brown. He insisted that Jesus came “to destroy class rule and set up the common people as the sole and rightful inheritors of the earth.” “What is Socialism?” he once asked. “Merely Christianity in action.” He was fond of quoting the poet James Russell Lowell, who writes:

He’s true to God who’s true to man;
Whenever wrong is done.
To the humblest and the weakest,
’neath the all-beholding sun.
That wrong is also done to us,
And they are slaves most base,
Whose love of right is for themselves
And not for all the race.

 

 

It was also a period beset with violence, including anarchist bombings and assassinations. An anarchist killed President William McKinley in 1901, unleashing a wave of state repression against social and radical movements. Striking workers engaged in periodic gun battles, especially in the coalfields of southern West Virginia, with heavily armed company goons, National Guard units, paramilitary groups such as the Coal and Iron Police, and the U.S. Army. Debs, although a sworn enemy of the capitalist elites, was adamantly opposed to violence and sabotage, arguing that these actions allowed the state to demonize the socialist movement and enabled the destructive efforts of agents provocateurs. The conflict with the capitalist class, Debs argued, was at its core about competing values. In an interview conducted while he was in jail after the Pullman strike, he stressed the importance of “education, industry, frugality, integrity, veracity, fidelity, sobriety and charity.”

A life of moral probity was vital as an example in the face of capitalist exploitation, but that was not enough to defeat the “kingdom of evil.” The owners and managers of corporations, driven by greed and a lust for power, would never play fair. They would always seek to use the law as an instrument of oppression and increase profits through machines, a reduction in wages, a denial of benefits and union busting. They would sacrifice anyone and anything—including democracy and the natural world—to achieve their goals.

Debs, if he could hear today’s proponents of the “free market,” self-help gurus, positive psychologists, talk show hosts and the political class as they exhort Americans to work harder, get an education, follow their dreams, remain positive and believe in themselves and American exceptionalism, would have scoffed in derision. He knew that corporate power is countered only through organized and collective resistance by workers forced to fight a bitter class war.

Debs turned to politics when he was released from jail in 1895. He was one of the founders of the Socialist Party of America and, in 1905, the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW), or “Wobblies.” He was the Socialist Party candidate for the U.S. presidency five times in the period 1900 through 1920—once when he was in prison—and he ran for Congress in 1916.

Debs was a powerful orator and drew huge crowds across the country. Fifteen thousand people once paid 15 cents to a dollar each to hear him in New York City’s Madison Square Garden. In his speeches and writings he demanded an end to child labor and denounced Jim Crow and lynching. He called for the vote for women, a graduated income tax, unemployment compensation, the direct election of senators, employer liability laws, national departments of education and health, guaranteed pensions for the elderly, nationalization of the banking and transport systems, and replacing “wage slavery” with cooperative industries.

As a presidential campaigner he traveled from New York to California on a train, called the Red Special, speaking to tens of thousands. He helped elect socialist mayors in some 70 cities, including Milwaukee, as well as numerous legislators and city council members. He propelled two socialists into Congress. In the elections of 1912 he received nearly a million votes, 6 percent of the electorate. Eighteen thousand people went to see him in Philadelphia and 22,000 in New York City.

He terrified the ruling elites, who began to institute tepid reforms to attempt to stanch the growing support for the socialists. Debs after the 1912 election was a marked man.

 

 

On June 18, 1918, in Canton, Ohio, he denounced, as he had often done in the past, the unholy alliance between capitalism and war, the use of the working class by the capitalists as cannon fodder in World War I and the Wilson administration’s persecution of anti-war activists, unionists, anarchists, socialists and communists. President Woodrow Wilson, who had a deep animus toward Debs, had him arrested under the Sedition Act, which made it a crime to “willfully utter, print, write, or publish any disloyal, profane, scurrilous, or abusive language about the form of the Government of the United States” or to “willfully urge, incite, or advocate any curtailment of the production” of anything “necessary or essential to the prosecution of [a U.S. war, in this case against Germany and its allies].”

Debs did not contest the charges. At his trial, he declared: “Washington, Paine, Adams—these were the rebels of their day. At first they were opposed by the people and denounced by the press. … And if the Revolution had failed, the revolutionary fathers would have been executed as felons. But it did not fail. Revolutions have a habit of succeeding when the time comes for them.” On Sept. 18, 1918, minutes before he was sentenced to a 10-year prison term and stripped of his citizenship, the 62-year-old Debs rose and told the court:

Your Honor, years ago I recognized my kinship with all living beings, and I made up my mind that I was not one bit better than the meanest on earth. I said then, and I say now, that while there is a lower class, I am in it, and while there is a criminal element I am of it, and while there is a soul in prison, I am not free.

I listened to all that was said in this court in support and justification of this prosecution, but my mind remains unchanged. I look upon the Espionage Law as a despotic enactment in flagrant conflict with democratic principles and with the spirit of free institutions. …

Your Honor, I have stated in this court that I am opposed to the social system in which we live; that I believe in a fundamental change—but if possible by peaceable and orderly means. …

Standing here this morning, I recall my boyhood. At fourteen I went to work in a railroad shop; at sixteen I was firing a freight engine on a railroad. I remember all the hardships and privations of that earlier day, and from that time until now my heart has been with the working class. I could have been in Congress long ago. I have preferred to go to prison. …

I am thinking this morning of the men in the mills and the factories; of the men in the mines and on the railroads. I am thinking of the women who for a paltry wage are compelled to work out their barren lives; of the little children who in this system are robbed of their childhood and in their tender years are seized in the remorseless grasp of Mammon and forced into the industrial dungeons, there to feed the monster machines while they themselves are being starved and stunted, body and soul. I see them dwarfed and diseased and their little lives broken and blasted because in this high noon of Christian civilization money is still so much more important than the flesh and blood of childhood. In very truth gold is god today and rules with pitiless sway in the affairs of men.

In this country—the most favored beneath the bending skies—we have vast areas of the richest and most fertile soil, material resources in inexhaustible abundance, the most marvelous productive machinery on earth, and millions of eager workers ready to apply their labor to that machinery to produce in abundance for every man, woman, and child—and if there are still vast numbers of our people who are the victims of poverty and whose lives are an unceasing struggle all the way from youth to old age, until at last death comes to their rescue and lulls these hapless victims to dreamless sleep, it is not the fault of the Almighty: it cannot be charged to nature, but it is due entirely to the outgrown social system in which we live that ought to be abolished not only in the interest of the toiling masses but in the higher interest of all humanity. …

I believe, Your Honor, in common with all Socialists, that this nation ought to own and control its own industries. I believe, as all Socialists do, that all things that are jointly needed and used ought to be jointly owned—that industry, the basis of our social life, instead of being the private property of a few and operated for their enrichment, ought to be the common property of all, democratically administered in the interest of all. …

I am opposing a social order in which it is possible for one man who does absolutely nothing that is useful to amass a fortune of hundreds of millions of dollars, while millions of men and women who work all the days of their lives secure barely enough for a wretched existence.

This order of things cannot always endure. I have registered my protest against it. I recognize the feebleness of my effort, but, fortunately, I am not alone. There are multiplied thousands of others who, like myself, have come to realize that before we may truly enjoy the blessings of civilized life, we must reorganize society upon a mutual and cooperative basis; and to this end we have organized a great economic and political movement that spreads over the face of all the earth.

There are today upwards of sixty millions of Socialists, loyal, devoted adherents to this cause, regardless of nationality, race, creed, color, or sex. They are all making common cause. They are spreading with tireless energy the propaganda of the new social order. They are waiting, watching, and working hopefully through all the hours of the day and the night. They are still in a minority. But they have learned how to be patient and to bide their time. The feel—they know, indeed—that the time is coming, in spite of all opposition, all persecution, when this emancipating gospel will spread among all the peoples, and when this minority will become the triumphant majority and, sweeping into power, inaugurate the greatest social and economic change in history.

In that day we shall have the universal commonwealth—the harmonious cooperation of every nation with every other nation on earth. …

Your Honor, I ask no mercy and I plead for no immunity. I realize that finally the right must prevail. I never so clearly comprehended as now the great struggle between the powers of greed and exploitation on the one hand and upon the other the rising hosts of industrial freedom and social justice.

I can see the dawn of the better day for humanity. The people are awakening. In due time they will and must come to their own.

When the mariner, sailing over tropic seas, looks for relief from his weary watch, he turns his eyes toward the southern cross, burning luridly above the tempest-vexed ocean. As the midnight approaches, the southern cross begins to bend, the whirling worlds change their places, and with starry finger-points the Almighty marks the passage of time upon the dial of the universe, and though no bell may beat the glad tidings, the lookout knows that the midnight is passing and that relief and rest are close at hand. Let the people everywhere take heart of hope, for the cross is bending, the midnight is passing, and joy cometh with the morning.

 

 

 

Three years later, Debs’ sentence was commuted by President Warren Harding to time served, and, in broken health, he was released from prison in December of 1921. His citizenship was not restored until five decades after his 1926 death. The labor movement and socialist party he had struggled to build had been ruthlessly crushed, often through violent attacks orchestrated by the state and corporations and mass arrests and deportations carried out during the Palmer Raids in November 1919 and January 1920. The government had shut down socialist publications, such as Appeal to Reason and The Masses. The “Red Scare” was used as an ideological weapon by the state, and especially the FBI after it was established in 1908, to discredit, persecute and silence dissent. The breakdown of capitalism saw a short-lived revival of organized labor during the 1930s, often led by the Communist Party, and during a short period after World War II, and this resurgence triggered yet another prolonged assault by the capitalist class.

We have returned to an oligarchic purgatory. Wall Street and the global corporations, including the fossil fuel industry and the war industry, have iron control over the government. The social, political and civil rights won by workers in long and bloody struggles have been stripped away. Government regulations have been rolled back to permit capitalists to engage in abuse and fraud. The political elites, along with their courtiers in the media and academia, are hapless corporate stooges. Social and economic inequality replicates the worst excesses of the robber barons. And the great civic, labor and political organizations that fought for working men and women are moribund or dead.

We have to begin all over again. And we must do so understanding, as Debs did, that any accommodation with members of the capitalist class is futile and self-defeating. They are the enemy. They will degrade and destroy everything, including the ecosystem, to get richer. They are not capable of reform.

I walked through the Debs home in Terre Haute with its curator, Allison Duerk. It has about 700 visitors a year. Rarely do these visits include school groups. The valiant struggle by radical socialists and workers, hundreds of whom were murdered in labor struggles, has been consciously erased from our history and replaced with the vacuity of celebrity culture and the cult of the self.

“Teaching this kind of people’s history puts a lot of power in working-class people’s hands,” Duerk said. “We all know what that threatens.”

The walls of the two-story frame house, built by Debs and his wife in 1890, are covered with photos and posters, including pictures of Debs’ funeral on the porch and 5,000 mourners in the front yard. There is the key to the cell in which he was held when he was jailed the first time. There is a photo of Convict No. 9653 holding a bouquet at the entrance to the federal penitentiary in Atlanta as he accepts the nomination from leaders of the Socialist Party to be their 1920 presidential candidate. There are gifts including an intricately inlaid wooden table and an ornately carved cane that prisoners sent to Debs, a tireless advocate for prisoner rights.

I opened the glass panel of a cherry wood bookshelf and pulled out one of Debs’ books, running my fingers lightly over his signature on the front inside flap. I read a passage from a speech he gave in 1905 in Chicago:

The capitalist who does no useful work has the economic power to take from a thousand or ten thousand workingmen all they produce, over and above what is required to keep them in working and producing order, and he becomes a millionaire, perhaps a multi-millionaire. He lives in a palace in which there is music and singing and dancing and the luxuries of all climes. He sails the high seas in his private yacht. He is the reputed “captain of industry” who privately owns a social utility, has great economic power, and commands the political power of the nation to protect his economic interests. He is the gentleman who furnishes the “political boss” and his swarm of mercenaries with the funds with which the politics of the nation are corrupted and debauched. He is the economic master and the political ruler and you workingmen are almost as completely at his mercy as if you were his property under the law.

I leafed through copies of Appeal to Reason, the Socialist party newspaper Debs edited, which once had almost 800,000 readers and the fourth highest circulation in the country.

 

 

Debs, like many of his generation, was literate. He read and reread “Les Misérables” in French. It was his father’s bible. It became his own. His parents, émigrés from Alsace, named him after the French novelists Eugene Sue and Victor Hugo. His father read Sue, Hugo, Voltaire, Rousseau, Dumas and other authors to his six children. Debs found in Hugo’s majestic novel the pathos of the struggle by the wretched of the earth for dignity and freedom. He was well aware, like Hugo, that the good were usually relentlessly persecuted, that they were not rewarded for virtue and that those who held fast to truth and justice often found their way to their own cross. But there was no other choice for him: The kingdom of evil had to be fought. It was a moral imperative. It was what made us human.

“Intellectual and moral growth is no less indispensable than material improvement,” Hugo writes in an appendix to “Les Misérables.” “Knowledge is a viaticum; thought is a prime necessity; truth is nourishment, like wheat. A reasoning faculty, deprived of knowledge and wisdom, pines away. We should feel the same pity for minds that do not eat as for stomachs. If there be anything sadder than a body perishing for want of bread, it is a mind dying of hunger for lack of light.

Source: Eugene Debs and the Kingdom of Evil

 

 

We will never be Free while the Rich Rule Over Us!! The “Rigged System” holds no future for the 99% a Political Revolution does – beungovernable .com 

EARTH FIRST – DEFEND THE PLANET – On Sabotage and Arson Attacks in Europe

24 Jul

Image from http://www.adbusters.org/spoofads/environmental/

 

by Paris sous Tension n°10 (juillet/août 2017) / Attaque translated by Earth First! Journal

If silence is frightening, it is perhaps because the absence of familiar sounds tends to reject us on ourselves. When we advance in the silent darkness, it is not uncommon for us to speak to ourselves, to whistle a little refrain, to think out loud not to find ourselves a prey to the anguish. This is not easy and may even require some exercise, as our brains have been conditioned to identify silence with danger, darkness with risk. It is the anguish that the emptiness provokes, the feeling of being on the edge of the abyss and not being able to turn our eyes away from the abyss that opens before us. Yet it is also at such times that one tends to be closer to oneself, without an intermediary, with a presence of mind and emotion much more assertive.

It is difficult to find silence or obscurity in the modern world. Industrial noises always accompany us, the devices emit their electronic sounds permanently, and if not, there is almost always one to fill the void with gossip as impenetrable as superficial. Today, the fear of the void, the anguish of silence is sublimated by permanent connectivity. Never alone, never in silence, never before the abyss. And so, never face to face with ourselves. Calls and voices from the “inside,” the whole universe of imagination, consciousness, sensitivity, reflection, are rendered mute, ignored, flattened and replaced by the continuous bombardment of information, E-mails, appointments, consumer warnings, and reminders. Thus, the modern world is completing the inner universe of the individual. With the annihilated interior, the human being will find himself in ideal conditions to accept slavery, even to embrace slavery without even having the ability to understand the state in which he is: Caught in the web.

All this is certainly not new. The history of oppression did not start with the smartphone. Not so long ago, the conditioning of the human spirit was done mainly through a galaxy of camps. The factory camp, the education camp that is the school, the control camp that is the family authority and the places of worship. Nevertheless, despite the threads woven between all these structures of domination, there was still, relatively speaking, a lot of emptiness. And this void was going to fuel the revolt in the camps, and vice versa. The prisoner who is mutinous has, nevertheless, his eyes riveted on the horizon beyond the walls, it does not matter if his imagination of this horizon can please us or not. Although the camps of all types have certainly not disappeared, the ongoing capitalist and state restructuring, notably through the increasingly widespread introduction of technology, is aimed, beyond increased exploitation and control, more totalitarian, to the elimination of all emptiness. The adage of permanent connectivity is at the heart of this deadly symphony. Connected, we are always a bit at work, a little in family, a little in the supermarket, a little at the concert. Connected, one is always exposed to the injunctions of power, to the summons to consume, to the eyes of the control. We are entirely at the disposal of capital, we are the slaves who wear invisible collars.

Someone said that if the society is an open-air prison, the modern cells must be these antennas and communications relays that contrast everywhere with the blue sky, and the barbed wire optic fibers and electrical cables. Indeed, for those who dream of stopping the reproduction of domination, it seems to be paramount that they can look elsewhere and otherwise. It is not that the local police station should no longer attract the attention of the enemy of authority, or that the window of the bank would not deserve to be smashed, or that the court should not receive [what it deserves], but it is also true that domination has spread over the territory a vast number of relatively small and unprotected structures, of which more and more, if not almost everything, depend. It is in these little things that the invisible web which encloses us and which allows the restructuring of capital and of the State materializes. It is there that the arteries of domination which irrigate the exploitation and oppression can be attacked; this is where technological prostheses and their enslaved chatter can be silenced.

This is what happened when a fire destroyed the technical installations and cables of France 3, on April 21, 2017 in Vanves (Hauts-Seines), disrupting emissions. This is what happened when anonymous hands cut an Orange telephone cable in Morbihan on May 4, fifteen minutes before the presidential debate, depriving thousands of viewers and hundreds of companies of their connectivity. This is what happened on Monte Finonchio in Trentino, Italy, when in solidarity with imprisoned anarchists, several relays and cabins for radio, television, mobile telephony and military communication Were destroyed by fire on 7 June, the day after the conviction of an anarchist companion for a bank robbery by the court of Aachen in Germany. This happened on 12 June in Hamburg, where a subway station was set on fire. This is what happened a few days later when night owls burned a television transmitter and a mobile phone antenna in Piégros-la-Clastre in the Drôme on 15 June, and later stated that “the pylons Which grow everywhere are sensitive and vulnerable points because they are points of concentration of flow and because it suffices a few liters of gasoline to seriously damage them. “And on June 23, it is in Vilvoorde in Belgium that a relay antenna is destroyed by a voluntary fire.

These few examples, probably far from exhaustive and all drawn from the last few weeks, show that everywhere, the cut is possible. It must also be said that, unlike the authoritarian who can only conceive of the world’s upheaval through the taking of the temples of power and the management of large masses, a sort of impossible symmetry with a much better equipped enemy, We anarchists emphasize the agility of small groups, the capacity of the individual, the spread of hostilities rather than their centralization, inter-individual relations of reciprocity, trust and knowledge. Such a way of organizing seems to us much more interesting to attack the ever more tentacular enemy, dependent on the interconnection between all its structures. Faced with the spread of a vast number of small transmission structures on the territory, nothing is more appropriate than a myriad of small groups, acting autonomously, able to co-ordinate with each other when this makes sense, practicing the old art of sabotage against the arteries of power. In the silence they impose on machines, in the perturbation they inflict on the “real time” of domination, we will find ourselves face to face with ourselves. And this is an unavoidable condition for a practice of freedom.

***FRENCH***

Si le silence fait peur, c’est peut-être parce que l’absence de bruits familiers tend à nous rejeter sur nous-mêmes. Quand on avance dans l’obscurité silencieuse, il n’est pas rare qu’on se parle à nous-mêmes, qu’on siffle un petit refrain, qu’on réfléchisse à haute voix pour ne pas se retrouver en proie à l’angoisse. Cela n’est pas facile et peut même exiger un peu d’exercice, car nos cerveaux ont été conditionnés pour identifier silence avec danger, obscurité avec risque. C’est l’angoisse que provoque le vide, le sentiment de se trouver au bord de l’abîme et de ne pas être capable de détourner les yeux du gouffre qui s’ouvre devant nous. Pourtant, ce sont aussi à ces moments-là qu’on a tendance à se trouver au plus près de soi-même, sans intermédiaire, avec une présence de l’esprit et de l’émotion bien plus affirmée.

Difficile de trouver encore du silence ou de l’obscurité dans le monde moderne. Les bruits industriels nous accompagnent toujours, les appareils émettent en permanence leurs sons électroniques, et sinon il y en a presque toujours un pour remplir le vide avec des bavardages aussi imbuvables que superficiels. Aujourd’hui, la peur du vide, l’angoisse du silence est entre autres sublimée par la connectivité permanente. Jamais seul, jamais en silence, jamais devant l’abîme. Et donc, jamais face à face avec nous-mêmes. Les appels et les voix de « l’intérieur », tout cet univers que constituent l’imagination, la conscience, la sensibilité, la réflexion, sont rendus muets, ignorés, aplatis et remplacés par le bombardement continu d’informations, de bruits, de messages électroniques, de rendez-vous, de sommations à la consommation, de rappels à l’ordre. Ainsi, le monde moderne est en train d’achever l’univers intérieur de l’individu. Avec l’intérieur anéanti, l’être humain va se retrouver dans des conditions idéales pour accepter l’esclavage, voire pour embrasser l’esclavage sans même disposer de capacités de compréhension de l’état dans lequel il se trouve. Pris dans la toile.

Tout cela n’est certes pas nouveau. L’histoire de l’oppression n’a pas commencé avec le smartphone. Il n’y a pas si longtemps, le conditionnement de l’esprit humain se faisait surtout à travers une galaxie de camps. Le camp de travail qu’est l’usine, le camp d’éducation qu’est l’école, le camp de contrôle que sont l’autorité familiale et les lieux de culte. N’empêche que malgré les fils tissés entre toutes ces structures de la domination, il restait encore, relativement parlant, beaucoup de vide. Et ce vide allait alimenter la révolte dans les camps, et inversement. Le prisonnier qui se mutine a, malgré tout, les yeux rivés sur l’horizon au-delà des murs, peu importe si son imaginaire de cet horizon peut nous plaire ou pas. Si les camps de tout type n’ont certes pas disparu, la restructuration capitaliste et étatique en cours, notamment à travers l’implantation toujours plus vaste de technologies, vise, au-delà d’une exploitation plus accrue et d’un contrôle encore plus totalitaire, à l’élimination de tout vide. L’adage de la connectivité permanente est au cœur de cette symphonie mortifère. Connecté, on est toujours un peu au boulot, un peu en famille, un peu au supermarché, un peu au concert. Relié, on est toujours exposé aux injonctions du pouvoir, aux sommations de consommer, aux yeux du contrôle. Nous sommes entièrement à disposition du capital, nous sommes les esclaves qui portent des colliers invisibles.

Quelqu’un disait que si la société est une prison à ciel ouvert, les guérites modernes doivent bien être ces antennes et relais de communication qui contrastent partout avec le ciel bleu, et les barbelés les fibres optiques et les câbles électriques. En effet, pour celles et ceux qui rêvent d’enrayer la reproduction de la domination, il semble être primordial qu’ils et elles arrivent à regarder ailleurs et autrement. Ce n’est pas que le commissariat du coin ne devrait plus attirer l’attention de l’ennemi de l’autorité, ou que la vitrine de la banque ne mériterait pas d’être fracassée, ou que le tribunal ne devrait pas recevoir des visites enragées, mais c’est aussi vrai que la domination a diffusé sur le territoire une vaste quantité de structures relativement petites et peu protégées dont toujours plus de choses, pour ne pas dire presque tout, dépendent. C’est dans ces petites choses que la toile invisible qui nous enferme et qui permet la restructuration du capital et de l’État se matérialisent. C’est là que peuvent être attaquées les artères de la domination qui irriguent les chmps de l’exploitation et de l’oppression ; c’est là que peuvent être réduites au silence les prothèses technologiques et leurs bavardages asservissants.

C’est ce qui s’est passé quand un feu a détruit les installations techniques et les câbles de France 3, le 21 avril 2017 à Vanves (Hauts-les-Seines), perturbant les émissions. C’est ce qui s’est passé quand des mains anonymes ont coupé un câble téléphonique Orange dans le Morbihan, le 4 mai, quinze minutes avant le débat présidentiel, privant des milliers de téléspectateurs et des centaines d’entreprises de leur connectivité. C’est ce qui s’est passé sur le Monte Finonchio dans le Trentin en Italie quand en solidarité avec des anarchistes emprisonnés, plusieurs relais et cabines de gestion de la radio, de la télévision, de la téléphonie mobile et de la communication militaire ont été détruits par le feu le 7 juin, le lendemain de la condamnation d’une compagnonne anarchiste pour un braquage de banque par le tribunal d’Aix-la-Chapelle en Allemagne. C’est ce qui s’est passé le 12 juin à Hambourg où une antenne-relais du métro a été incendiée. C’est ce qui s’est encore passé quelques jours plus tard quand des noctambules ont brûlé un émetteur de télévision et une antenne de téléphonie mobile à Piégros-la-Clastre dans la Drôme le 15 juin, précisant par la suite que « les pylônes qui poussent un peu partout sont des points névralgiques et vulnérables parce que ce sont des points de concentration des flux et parce qu’il suffit de quelques litres d’essence pour les endommager gravement. » Et, le 23 juin, c’est à Vilvorde en Belgique qu’une antenne-relais est détruite par un incendie volontaire.

Ces quelques exemples, sans doute loin d’être exhaustifs et tous tirés des dernières semaines, montrent qu’un peu partout, la coupure est possible. Il faut dire aussi qu’à l’inverse des autoritaires qui ne peuvent concevoir le bouleversement du monde qu’à travers la prise des temples du pouvoir et la gestion de masses importantes, en une sorte de symétrie impossible avec un ennemi bien mieux équipé, nous, anarchistes, mettons en avant l’agilité de petits groupes, les capacités de l’individu, la diffusion des hostilités plutôt que leur centralisation, des rapports interindividuels de réciprocité, de confiance et de connaissance. Une telle manière de s’organiser nous paraît bien plus intéressante pour attaquer l’ennemi toujours plus tentaculaire et dépendant de l’interconnexion entre toutes ses structures. Face à la dissémination sur le territoire d’une vaste quantité de petites structures de transmission, rien n’est plus adapté qu’une myriade de petits groupes, agissant en autonomie, capables de se coordonner entre eux quand cela fait sens, pratiquant de façon diffuse le vieil art du sabotage contre les artères du pouvoir. Dans le silence qu’ils imposent aux machines, dans la perturbation qu’ils infligent au « temps réel » de la domination, on se retrouvera face à face avec nous-mêmes. Et cela est une condition incontournable pour une pratique de la liberté.

 

 

 

 

Earth First – Serve the People – Defend the Planet and all its life forms at all costs and by any means necessary! Rise Up and Defend your Mother!

 

Video: Naomi Klein and Jeremy Corbyn Discuss How to Get the World We Want

15 Jul

 

Naomi Klein and Jeremy Corbyn discuss Trump, climate change, and the future of progressive politics.

Source: Video: Naomi Klein and Jeremy Corbyn Discuss How to Get the World We Want

 

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