Occupy ICE Portland: Policing Revolution?–Some Critical Reflections

We’ve received the following report from participants in the occupation around the Portland facilities of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE). While our collective has no official position on issues internal to the occupation, we consider it important to promote constructive conversations about power dynamics within our movements and the ways that they can impose limits on what we can accomplish together. For more material on this subject, consult our earlier report, “The ICE Age Is Over: Reflections from the ICE Blockades.” Shortly, for the sake of amplifying multiple perspectives, we will add one more text from Portland.


“Criticize the comrade, take a criticism from the comrade.” -Bambu

“We do NOT touch the police tape. We do NOT block the street,” a “leader” of the Portland occupation screamed through a megaphone at a crowd of newly arrived demonstrators near the reopened ICE facility. Organic anger from a group of mostly liberals led to a brief confrontation with Federal Protective Services (FPS/DHS), which was quickly quashed by an internal security team. People were ushered onto the sidewalk and scolded for not following supposedly “collective” agreements. The building remained untouched as protesters who were eager to agitate were made to feel guilty and illegitimate.

In the last three weeks of Portland’s occupation at the ICE building, we’ve found ourselves caught between a desire to build with folks and a need to critique the ways that violence is sustained by our work. We’ve failed to address interpersonal violence and have left people isolated from the movement. We’ve prioritized the security of our “leaders” because of their contributions and their assumed necessity to our commune rather than making space for conversation about sexual violence and the strategies we must implement to make sure folks are held accountable rather than simply “vouched for.” And we’ve lost sight of the initial goal of abolishing ICE.

Our occupation is said to be leading the movement against deportations across the country. We’re currently cohabitating with the ICE facility; as their work continues, we continue to sit back with our La Croix in hand and practice “self-care.” In many ways, this commune has been helpless since its inception, demonstrating the need to build conversation and criticism into our work.

When it comes down to it, the vast majority of us here have no idea how to coexist in a commune; we are improvising. We offer up this criticism knowing that it’s much easier to critique than to build. We write this in hopes of making space for continual analysis, collective reflection, and commitment to future organizing.

More than anything, we must practice humility and be conscious of our role in this organizing work. Shutting down an ICE building for over two weeks is a huge feat, and we do not want to diminish this accomplishment. But we cannot forget the people who our commune is said to be built on behalf of: undocumented folks, and specifically undocumented children, who are suffering in detention centers around the country. We remind ourselves first and foremost that these people do not need our saving. Amazing organizing efforts have been led by undocumented folks in and out of detention centers, often largely by undocumented women. They’ll be doing that whether or not we sleep out here tonight. Still, solidarity efforts are crucial to dismantling these walls and to abolishing ICE.

The commune is exciting because it’s an opportunity to experiment with different organizing strategies and visions for another world. We have an amazing kitchen staff, an incredible kids area, and overall an impressive space. But we also have a pseudo-policing unit, extremely flawed approaches to navigating accusations of sexual violence, and potential security threats. At this point, preserving the commune has become a more central project than actually disrupting ICE. We’ve failed to build a space to assess and change our strategies as they inevitably fail or are co-opted. Consequently, our commune has done little to interrogate the ways it reproduces and legitimizes policing, surveillance, and heteropatriarchal violence.

Ultimately, much of our work has been whitewashed, neutralized, and made non-threatening to the state—that’s how we’ve been able to be legitimized as an action that will not be touched by the Portland Police Bureau (PPB). We supposedly decided that the commune will now only engage in “passive resistance,” a concept as oxymoronic as “good policing” or “public property.” The commune’s internal police force, known as the “Care Team,” has worked to ensure that protesters “keep in line.” Our commitment to the commune’s continued existence has become a commitment to establishing a framework in which insurgent and revolutionary politics become unimaginable.


“All Cops” Means the Pretend Ones Too

Seizing the lack of structure as an opportunity for a power grab, a group of people created a self-appointed security team within the first few days. Sporting pink bandannas as an emblem of this new committee, the group established a visible manifestation of their higher status.

From the beginning, the team consisted primarily of individuals with a pattern of taking control and policing others at past demonstrations. Masquerading as anarchists and radicals, these people implement authoritarian practices and recreate the state structures we have set out to abolish. The ideology of many of those on the security team is indecipherable; sometimes it appears that their primary motive is power.

The security phenomenon is a recurring issue in Portland. At almost every rally or march, one finds the same dozen people role-playing as cops, following around “suspicious” people. They hold themselves above the participants, who they are there to “protect.” The people who assume this role never appear on the front lines fighting riot police; they can’t be found when there is a real security threat. They pounce on the lone agitator, getting enough action to bolster their ego
and flex their power. The anarchist symbols covering the camp are purely aesthetic, since we
continue to let security govern us.

The security team created a monopoly on information, keeping important reports about threats to themselves. Using this lack of transparency to their advantage, security members were able to justify their existence through distorted threats and the instilling of fear—a tactic habitually used by the state. Calling a “code red” one night, security commanded people to retreat into tents while refusing to offer information as to what the situation was. Terrified newcomers and children scrambled back with no grasp on how severe the threat actually was.

Their authority allows them to determine the political legitimacy of people’s thoughts and actions, as well as deciding which actions are “too risky” for the commune to engage in. We’ve seen women enter the space with questions about the work, only to be told, “Do you really want to know or are you just being facetious?” We’ve seen folks heckling Homeland Security Officers told that they’re “kids” and therefore should get back in line and listen to the commune authority. We’ve seen comrades lambasted and told to leave for attempting civil disobedience.

All of this is done under the guise of “protecting” people of color and trans folks. We are open to discussing tactics, but we will not stand for a security team that grounds its work in the patriarchal protection of black, brown, and trans people and that insists on policing all forms of political action, analysis, and engagement.

The members of the security team are able to absolve themselves of responsibility for their policing efforts by leaning on “consensus-based decisions.” In confronting someone who is “out of line,” they argue that they’re simply carrying out orders. Whose orders these are is entirely unclear. Consensus by itself can be employed as a tactic for repressing autonomous action. But the commune takes it one step further by neglecting to actually engage in true consensus decision-making. The general assemblies here occur sporadically and happen at inaccessible times. The result is that an invisible, unknown, exclusive committee of people reach a decision which is then stamped as group consensus and forced on everyone else. There is a hidden rigid hierarchy disguised in careful leftist language to isolate critics. Blatantly false statements are thrown around, such as “EVERYONE living at camp agrees that…” or “the overwhelming CONSENSUS is…” This destroys any space for critique and gives those new to the camp the impression that everyone is in unanimous agreement.

We understand the need to disrupt the “ally industrial complex” in which white people, those new to the movement, and other “privileged” folks sit on the side and cheer on our POC comrades. At this point, more and more people want to get involved, and that’s crucial. People who show up must be understood as potential comrades and legitimate political actors. The liberal who decides to scream at the cops is engaging in an activity that might further radicalize them—and yet we choose to police that work, tell them it’s out of line, and demand that the ways we disrupt ICE be narrow and pre-approved. How do we expect to expand this movement if we teach our potential comrades that their political analysis is irrelevant? Why should they return to this work if they are told that their ideas, opinions, and forms of action are incorrect? If our goal is to build a new world, we have to start by not replicating the old. Ultimately, we’re isolating potential comrades and disciplining our collective political imagination.


Security Team 2.0: Your Misogyny is Showing

After initial criticism of the internal police force, the security team rebranded themselves as “the Care Team.” This attempt to rebrand leans on understandings of the importance of care—the feminized labor that sustains the social and emotional well-being of the commune. When we think of care, we think of our kitchen staff, the folks who hold down the childcare tent, and those partaking in other forms of feminized work. Excluding those folks from “the” Care Team is not only a tactic the internal police uses to to avoid accountability, but is also a disrespectful manipulation of feminist understandings of care.

We hear more and more in leftist circles about the need to build a new world based on a politics of care. We understand care as feminized work of listening, working to understand people’s emotional needs, and validating and supporting all who enter our spaces. It’s a call to collectivize our traumas and strategies for healing, which should not be conflated with neoliberal notions of “self-care.” We see much of the work of care tied to Black Feminist analysis, the work of the Movement for Black Lives, and in prison abolitionist circles. We want to expand that work in order to build a movement for each other.

Contrary to many beliefs, “care” is not about a practice of patriarchal protection, nor a politics based on policing potential threats. The current campaign of Critical Resistance, “Care Not Cops,” does the necessary work of disrupting notions of “good policing,” making it clear that policing and care are incompatible. Care is an acknowledgement of our vulnerability to others and a recognition of the need to collaborate for our collective survival.

Men Ruin Movements: Addressing Gendered Violence within Our Communities

Within minutes of entering the commune we learn that one of the core organizers is a person with serious accusations against them. Of course, it’s not our job to snoop around and try to determine whether or not this specific person is “guilty,” nor necessarily to call for their immediate removal. But we do want to know whether there is a process by which accusations are heard, people’s experiences are validated, and action is taken to hold people accountable and to ensure that those making these accusations feel welcomed in. We want to see a commitment to addressing and disrupting gendered violence and other forms of harm. And we want to know that these conversations are at the forefront of the community we seek to build.

When men are in charge, apparently, this becomes too much to ask for. When we ask why someone is still on the core “Care Team,” we are told that despite accusations, this person has been “vouched for.” His leadership position and the amount he’s contributed become grounds for delegitimizing and failing to address accusations. We hear excuses about organizational capacity used to put accusations of sexual violence on the back burner until we can give them the attention they need.

Our shared critiques of criminal justice procedures and commitments to abolishing the prison industrial complex are being used to justify not addressing the sexual violence accusations against people. The counterargument that people of color are more likely to face incarceration is not wrong; however, to use this as a justification not to hold people accountable is disappointing. To manipulate these realities in order to avoid even having conversations about feminist praxis only further embeds our work in the same patriarchal structures that we claim to oppose.

The work of transformative justice is tricky and we’ve seen few attempts at it done well. But that should not cause us to conclude it is not necessary in our work. If we learned anything from zines like Why Misogynists Make Great Informants, essays like Betrayal: A Critical Analysis of Rape Culture in Anarchist Subcultures, and the book The Revolution Starts at Home: Confronting Intimate Violence Within Activist Communities, it is that this sort of misogyny in our circles is nothing new. We know that these forms of violence and harm take place within our communities. We build with our shared commitment to holding ourselves and each other accountable.


What’s the Point: Passive Resistance and Smashing the State

If you’ve spent any time at the camp, you are probably familiar with the obsession with “passive resistance.” It’s hard to miss. The phrase is posted on the entrance to the camp, mindlessly thrown around by “leaders,” and praised by the liberals who come and go. As much as it is used, nobody seems to know what it means or how we came to embrace it. This section will not be focused on the failures of nonviolence. That story has been written countless times and we’ve all sat through arguments over it. Instead, we focus on how self-appointed leaders twist the idea to shut down virtually any resistance to ICE.

Passive resistance is not about passivity, it is about resistance. It is peaceful, but it is not compliance. At the camp, the term is being pulled further and further from its definition. When a few daring comrades tried to lock arms on the side entrance, blocking in the federal agents, they were attacked for not practicing proper resistance. Other people tried linking themselves together in the driveway, but were criticized by leaders for poking the bear. Even yelling at police is a bit too provocative. Passive resistance has lost its meaning and value, and it seems that the leaders don’t care about resisting, just about passivity.

The assumption at the camp seems to be that by engaging in their version of passive resistance, we will swing the media coverage and stall a police attack. It sounds great in theory, but it appears to ignore history altogether. Those who embrace this framework are operating under the illusion that if we are peaceful and compliant with police orders, we can exist in harmony with the state. This ignores every peaceful protest that has been ambushed by riot police, every “passive” mobilization that has been squashed by the state, every instance of police brutality. It buys into the notion that our behavior dictates how the police will treat us, the same idea recited by Fox News pundits after police murders. In reality, the state cares little about how we behave. The authorities make their own excuses with the assistance of the media and attack on their own initiative. The goal of abolishing ICE and the practice of physically shutting it down puts us in conflict with the state. Since the camp is diametrically opposed to the state and its wishes, a police attack is inevitable. Peacefulness and compliance will not seduce the state into inaction, it will just take away our power. In conceding our power, we let our safety lie in the hands of the police.

On June 28, while most of the camp slept, federal police cleared the entrances and arrested multiple people. Our barricades were ripped down, and the veteran camp in the driveway was torn to pieces—despite their peacefulness. The police proved that they didn’t need an excuse to move on the camp. Yet leaders are still calling for “passive resistance” and employing vulnerability politics to suppress militancy.

The Care Team frequently falls back on the claim that any escalation would “put __ group at risk,” using the most convenient marginalized identity at hand to make this argument. The “risk” that they claim to be defending people from is the potential for arrests or police brutality directed towards people of color and trans people. This analysis is not incorrect; less privileged people will be further targeted by police, face harsher sentences, and gain less sympathy from white civil society. However, the weaponizing of identity in order to police certain actions not only means speaking on behalf of a population “in need of protection,” it also attempts to make any discussion about risk, tactics, and actions impossible and to shut down political conversation.

If we believe that we can remove risk and danger from this work, then we ultimately must commit to reproducing the existing social order. There will be risk in disrupting ICE and danger in threatening white civil society. People should analyze the risks, the dangers they face personally, and determine whether or not they want to take an action or be in a specific space. We need to build in support so we do not reserve specific actions for more privileged people—but winning with “passive resistance” is a fantasy.

To assume that we must resist passively in order to accommodate more vulnerable commune members falsely ties militance to whiteness. We think of Jackie Wang’s essay, “Against Innocence: Race, Gender, and the Politics of Safety,” in which she takes on this question of risk. Wang writes,

“When an analysis of privilege is turned into a political program that asserts that the most vulnerable should not take risks, the only politically correct politics becomes a politics of reformism and retreat, a politics that necessarily capitulates to the status quo while erasing the legacy of Black Power groups like the Black Panthers and the Black Liberation Army.”

We think about people who have been resisting in deportation centers since before ICE’s inception,about militant direct action taken by undocumented students across the country and the need for further militancy to dismantle patriarchy, white supremacy, and the settler-colonial state.

A feeling of complacency has spread throughout the camp as it has transitioned from a militant attempt to shut down ICE operations to a sort of Burning Man commune peacefully coexisting with DHS. With an assortment of sparkling water, open yoga sessions, and nightly concerts contrasted by armored snipers on the roof and makeshift barricades covered in circle-As, the camp has the look of a leftist music festival—Anarchoachella, if you will. Camaraderie is important and nothing is inherently wrong with creating a comfortable space. But our focus has been abandoned and our inclination towards action has dissipated.

When attempting to initiate an urgently-needed discussion on possible actions the night before ICE resumed work in the building, organizers were met with hostility for interrupting a music show and berated by a crowd of mostly newcomers about the necessity of “self-care” and “taking a break.” After a night of dancing and consuming kale salads, they put up no resistance as ICE agents poured into the building the next morning. While this is unintentional, we are capitalizing on the suffering of children and wasting resources to live out our collective ideological fantasies. If holding space is prioritized over disrupting deportations and separations, the commune is nothing more than a bourgeois liberal playground.


Stop Embarrassing the Movement

In our struggle to smash the borders and end the deadly policing of them, we have replicated the same institutions we oppose. Our camp is encircled in barriers separating ourselves from the capitalist hellworld and the flow of people is strictly controlled. Our own security cameras monitor the movements of occupiers and the entrances and exits are restricted to a few gates. We have created categories of those who belong and those who don’t. A list has been compiled of commune exiles that includes critics, utopians, and anti-authoritarians. ACAB adorns the wall but the “Care Team” is a border patrol of its own. Rampant anti-houseless rhetoric prompts exclusion of those perceived as houseless while simultaneously labeling ourselves a tent city. If nothing changes, our commune will collapse before the police even attempt to raid it.

The occupation has been remarkable in garnering support and sparking grand aspirations. The amount of effort and organization put into sustaining the commune is commendable. But right now, we are doing nothing to hinder deportations or support detainee organizing. Occupiers are living comfortably while ICE continues its reign of terror next door. With all its flaws, the commune has taught us and transformed us. Still, it’s time to abandon our notions of space and romanticized community and consider what it would mean to build a movement based on unconditional hospitality, real care, and actual militancy.

If it stays as it is, the commune will continue to drain resources and police insurrectionary potential while amounting to nothing more than a mild inconvenience to ICE employees. With the widespread popularity of increasingly radical abolitionist politics, we have the opportunity to bring people into our analysis and agitate against state control and hierarchy in general. We must back up our utopian visions by showing the revolutionary possibility of a world free of borders and authority. This is not a call to abandon the occupation altogether or to allow ICE to resume as normal. This is a reminder of the need for constant critique and a space to have these conversations. We ask our comrades to consider our goals and examine our tactics. Opportunities for meaningful action exist within the commune but only if we overhaul our current commitment to passivity and let go of our desire to be palatable to the state.

Furthermore, we call for a decentralized approach. ICE isn’t just a building, so don’t let your actions be limited to it. Seek out all of the appendages that keep the machine running and strike while we have the power. The information is out there. Find your comrades, form an affinity group, and get to work. Redecorate your local GEO Group building, throw a block party in front of an ICE agent’s house, and always hold yourself and your comrades accountable. ICE is starting to melt, but we’re just warming up.

with love,

Your local mindless anarchists hell-bent on nothing but destruction

Santiago de Chile: Solidarity to the #ICEbreakers– From Those Denied Entry into the US (& Their Friends)

We’ve received the following open letter from Chile expressing support for the occupations of ICE offices and detention centers around the United States. It offers a useful perspective from outside the boundaries of the US.


Charting Transit despite the State

We stand in solidarity with comrades across the world who are bravely barricading and occupying ICE detention centers in the so-called United States, in cities like Tacoma, Portland, Atlanta, San Francisco, and New York. The politicians in their offices shuffle papers while the liberals hold signs nicely asking the government to stop ripping families apart and traumatizing children. By contrast, these partisans understand that the gravity of the issue at hand—human life and dignity—is not a matter of politics.

For example, photos and videos from Atlanta spread across the world showed the #icebreakers blasting music while both the occupiers and those behind bars danced. Protesters taunted the police with donuts and repeatedly held their ground against police eviction. Rather than merely making visible that the voting public is unhappy with their elected officials’ decisions, they took direct action against the state bureaucracies and their functionaries to create moments of life and joy that cut across the divide between citizen and non-citizen.

These occupations are occurring while politicians are preparing for election campaigns; many will undoubtedly promise a more humane yet still “sensible” immigration policy in order to get votes. We wish to share one thing that is clear throughout the West: Electoral politics is not a path to survival. As long as the United States has existed, its borders have cleaved families apart. As long as states have existed, their bounded territories have served to exclude and kill.

When the liberals tell us that only solution is to vote in a progressive candidate, we say two things:

  1. While your international and immigration policies dictate whether we live or die, we are dying.

  2. While our friendships and families are being ripped apart, we can never vote.

Instead of living precariously at the whims of politicians and ebbs and flows of their legislation, we need to build the means to ensure our survival regardless of politics and law.

On September 11, 1973, the Chilean Military, backed by the CIA and US government, bombed El Palacio de la Moneda as General Augusto Pinochet overthrew the Unidad Popular government. Many UP party members and leftists managed to escape to the US or Europe where they lived in exile. However, those without the economic or social means to immigrate to the “First World” found themselves in jails, torture chambers, or mass graves. While US policies overseas drive migration, US border policy serves to impede it, trapping people in war zones and dictatorships. The liberals around the world who expressed horror and demanded a return to democracy in Chile were blind to the array of non-democratic immigration policies that impacted the lives of Chileans before, during, and after the coup.

“Perhaps the Chilean exile that left the country with only what was necessary had privileges according to the political or cultural status they possessed when some of them could choose the embassy and destination that matched their dreams of picturesque European landscapes. Meanwhile, anonymous shoeless others landed where they were thrown: Mexico, Argentina, Cuba, or the distant Scandinavia, where they were coal cockroaches in the albino sky of the Vikings.”

-Pedro Lemebel. El exilio fru-frú (o “había una fonda en Montparnasse”) [The Fru-Fru Exile (or “There Was an Inn in Montparnasse)]


Now that we are in democracy “within what is possible” according to the former Chilean president Patricio Alywin, the politicians and liberals exclaim: “To make a change, you should go out and vote!” How can we vote out the asshole working the visa desk at the local US Embassy? Did anyone actually vote in the jerk at the consulate who interviews foreigners for five minutes to decide if they are likely to overstay their visa for economic or familial reasons? The same official who has the power to deny your visa application, with no knowledge of your lives and dreams, for being a “would-be illegal”? For a government that claims to be “just, democratic, and transparent,” our treatment at the US embassy matches the treatment we receive at the most arbitrary of bureaucracies in the “Third World.” Forgive us if we have trouble reconciling this fact with government calls for “Law and Order.”

In a global frame, what can democracy mean when we have no influence on the US government policies that affect us? Even as we write this, the Chilean militarized police are armed with drones, amphibian tanks, and tear gas supplied through US foreign aid to be use by commandos trained in Colombia, “El Comando Jungla,” to repress Mapuche land struggles. Mapuche immigrants in the US, like those from other parts of the world, were forced to leave their indigenous territories to escape poverty, starvation, and state repression. When deciding to flee to the US is a matter of life or death regardless of legality, the call for electing progressive candidates as a means to change immigration policy is a patronizing and exclusionary way to tell the rest of the world to put our lives in the hands of politicians.

As a result, while the call to simply #AbolishICE may seem like a radical move from within the state, if it goes no further, it is just a liberal invitation for US citizens to ignore to the rest of the US state’s impact on the lives of those around the world.

To merely #AbolishICE is to shuffle around their roles and responsibilities to other agencies within the array of bureaucratic assemblages—embassies, armies, CIA agents—that exert the state’s force against those who lack US citizenship. These assemblages will continue to existed even if you elect a socialist to your local city council. They will continue to exist if your progressive mayor orders the police to refuse to detain new immigrants when a hundred detainees are still in their city’s jail. ICE has existed for less than 20 years, but the US government has worked much longer to intensify global human suffering through wars, coups, and trade policies. The US government has always detained and deported those who dare to immigrate on their own terms to a country where they believe they have a chance for survival. An #AbolishIce movement built on asking the state to abolish ICE serves to exclude non-citizens from building power.

A movement built on turning the direct action of non-US citizens and their friends—those who are barricading ICE facilities and taking direct action—into a spectacle to elect officials will only enable the politicians win a game we could never play and will never win. We will lose the power we have to survive despite the state, while liberals and politicians buttress the power of the US government.

The only way to ensure our survival is to secure the conditions to meet our needs autonomously. That may mean crossing a border without a government’s permission. This is not a neoliberal call for transnational flows against the power of the state. Currently capitalism is only sustained by the political barriers that divide us. This is a war cry from our precaritized bodies.

The only actions that can insure our survival are those that break the division between citizen and non-citizen, the barrier of paternalism and exclusion. These actions acknowledge that our shared survival is predicated on building autonomy outside of the state and capital. This could mean barricading the entrance to an ICE facility, blocking a deportation bus, or hiding undocumented immigrants from the police instead of pretending that the state will protect them. This may also mean that, instead of hoping an humanitarian organization will care for undocumented immigrants, you go to the prison or detention center to build autonomous and powerful friendships with those incarcerated. Above all, this means building the infrastructure for our shared survival, knowing that state institutions and electoral politics have never ensured and will never ensure that we all live. All attempts at inclusion in electoral politics is built on the exclusion of others.

On either side of a border, whoever they vote for, we are all illegal.

On July 4, a woman climbed the pedestal at the base of the Statue of Liberty during an anti-ICE demonstration. It took police nearly three hours to get her down.


Cartografías de tránsito a pesar del Estado

Un análisis en solidaridad con los #icebreakers desde Santiago de Chile

-De aquellxs cuya entrada a EE.UU. ha sido negada y sus amigxs

Solidarizamos con lxs camaradas al otro lado del mundo, quienes están valientemente levantando barricadas y ocupando los centros de detención de ICE en los llamados Estados Unidos en ciudades como Tacoma, Portland, Atlanta, San Francisco y Nueva York. Lxs políticxs en sus oficinas
barajan sus papeles, mientras que lxs liberales exhiben pancartas amables con el gobierno para que dejen de destrozar a las familias y traumatizar a lxs niñxs. Lxs partisanxs entienden que la gravedad del problema, la vida humana y la dignidad, no es una cuestión de política, sino de vida o muerte. Por ejemplo, las fotos y videos de Atlanta que circulan por el mundo muestran a aquellxs quienes mediante la acción directa irrumpen el normal funcionamiento de ICE, #icebreakers, tocando música mientras lxs que ocupan las calles y lxs que están detrás de las rejas bailan. Manifestantes burlándose de la policia con donas y manteniendo su posición mientras tratan de evacuarlxs. En lugar de solo hacer visible que los votantes están infelices con las decisiones que toman sus oficiales electxs, emplean la acción directa contra las burocracias del Estado y sus funcionarixs para generar momentos de vida y goce que anulen la división entre ciudadanx y no ciudadanx.

Estas ocupaciones se producen al mismo tiempo que lxs políticxs se preparan para las campañas electorales, prometiendo, sin duda, una política de inmigración más humana y, a la vez, más “sensible”. Queremos compartir con ustedes algo que es claro en todo Occidente: la política electoral no es un camino hacia la supervivencia. Las fronteras de Estados Unidos siempre han dividido a las familias. Los Estados siempre han trazado límites que sirven para excluir y matar.

Cuando lxs liberales nos digan que la única solución es votar por unx candidatx progresista, nosotrxs decimos dos cosas. Primero: Mientras nuestras familias y amistades estén siendo descuartizadas nunca podremos votar. Segundo: Mientras que su política internacional y de inmigración determina si vivimos o no, nosotrxs estamos muriendo. Sus elecciones nunca podrían representar a lxs no ciudadanxs. En lugar de vivir precarizadxs por los caprichos de lxs politicxs y el flujo de sus leyes, necesitamos construir medios que sean indiferentes frente a las políticas gubernamentales para asegurar nuestra supervivencia .

El 11 de Septiembre de 1973 las Fuerzas Armadas de Chile, respaldadas por la CIA y el gobierno estadounidense, bombardearon el Palacio de la Moneda, derrocando al gobierno de la Unidad Popular. Muchxs partidarixs lograron escapar a los Estados Unidos o Europa donde vivieron exiliadxs. Sin embargo, aquellxs sin el poder económico o los medios para emigrar al “Primer Mundo” fueron puestxs en cárceles, cámaras de tortura o fosas comunes. Mientras las políticas exteriores de EEUU impulsan la migración, su política fronteriza sirve para impedirla, atrapando a las personas en zonas de guerra y dictaduras. Lxs liberales alrededor del mundo, quienes expresaron su horror y demandaron el retorno a la democracia en Chile, estaban ciegxs ante la variedad de políticas de migración no-democráticas que impactaban las vidas de lxs chilenxs antes, durante y después del Golpe.

“Quizás el exilio chileno que salió del país con lo puesto una amarga mañana, tuvo privilegiados de acuerdo al status político o cultural que poseían entonces, cuando algunos pudieron elegir embajada y destino según el paisaje europeo que rondaba sus sueños. A diferencia de otros anónimos patipelados que los tiraron donde cayeran; México, Argentina, Cuba o la lejana Escandinavia, donde eran cucarachas de carbón en el cielo albino de los vikingos.”

-Pedro Lemembel. El exilio fru-frú (o “había una fonda en Montparnasse”)

Ahora que estamos en democracia “en la medida de lo posible”—de acuerdo al ex presidente chileno Patricio Aylwin-, lxs políticxs y liberales exclaman: “¡Si quieren hacer un cambio, deberían salir y votar!”. ¿Cómo podemos votar para expulsar a lxs sacowea que trabajan en el mostrador de visados ​​de la embajada local de EE. UU.? ¿Alguien realmente votó por lxs oficiales del consulado que después de una entrevista de cinco minutos, sin conocimiento de nuestras vidas y sueños, decidirán si podemos sobrepasar el tiempo de nuestras visas por razones económicas o familiares? ¿Votamos por lxs mismxs oficiales que tiene el poder de negar la solicitud de visa sin saber nada? Para un gobierno que dice ser “justo, democrático y transparente”, el tratamiento que recibimos en sus embajadas es igual al tratamiento que recibimos en las burocracias más arbitrarias del “Tercer Mundo”. Perdónennos si tenemos problemas reconciliando estos hechos con el llamado que hace el gobierno estadounidense a “la Ley y el Orden”.

En un marco global, ¿qué puede significar la democracia cuando no tenemos influencia sobre las políticas de gobierno que nos afectan? Mientras escribimos esto, la policía militarizada está armadx con drones, tanques anfibios y gas lacrimógeno suministrados por los EE.UU. para ser utilizados por lxs comandxs entrenadxs en Colombia; “El comando jungla”, para reprimir las luchas territoriales mapuche. Lxs inmigrantes mapuche, como lxs de otras partes del mundo, fueron forzadxs a dejar sus territorios para escapar de la pobreza, hambruna, y represión estatal. Cuando la decisión de huir a los EE.UU. es una cuestión de vida o muerte, independiente de la legalidad, el llamado a elegir candidatxs progresistas como medio de cambiar las políticas de inmigración es un movimiento paternalista y excluyente que le dice al resto del mundo que pongan sus vidas en manos de lxs políticxs.

Como resultado, mientras el simple llamado a #abolirICE se puede ver como un movimiento radical desde el Estado, en realidad es un llamado liberal a que lxs ciudadanxs estadounidenses ignoren el impacto que tiene Estados Unidos en las vidas alrededor del mundo.

“#AbolirICE” delega sus funciones y responsabilidades al despliegue de agenciamientos burocráticos—embajadas, ejércitos, agentes de la CIA—que ejercen la fuerza del Estado contra ciudadanxs no estadounidenses en todo el mundo. Estos agenciamientos continuarán existiendo independiente de si eliges a lxs concejalxs socialistxs de tu comuna; continuarán existiendo incluso si tus alcaldxs progresistas se rehúsan a detener nuevxs inmigrantes cuando cientos siguen detenidxs en las cárceles de la ciudad. ICE existe hace menos de 20 años, pero el gobierno de EE.UU. ha trabajado por mucho más tiempo para magnificar el sufrimiento humano global a través de guerras, golpes de Estado y políticas comerciales. Si se aboliera ICE, otra agencia gubernamental surgiría para tomar su lugar. El gobierno de EE.UU. siempre ha detenido y deportado a aquellxs que se atreven a emigrar de manera autónoma a un país donde creen que tienen una oportunidad para sobrevivir. Un movimiento como #AbolirICE, basado en apelar al Estado, sirve para excluir a lxs no ciudadanxs de empoderarse. Un movimiento que convierte la acción directa de lxs no ciudadanxs estadounidenses y sus amigxs—aquellxs que están haciendo barricadas en las instalaciones de ICE y realizando acciones directas—en espectáculo para elegir oficiales solo permitirá que lxs políticxs ganen un juego que nunca pudimos jugar y nunca podremos ganar. Perderemos el poder que tenemos de sobrevivir a pesar del Estado, mientras lxs liberales y políticxs se respaldan en el poder del gobierno de EE.UU.

El único camino para sobrevivir es asegurarnos de una vida autónoma en la que nuestras necesidades sean cumplidas. Eso significa cruzar las fronteras sin permiso del gobierno. Este no es un grito neoliberal para que las transnacionales arremetan contra el poder del Estado. Actualmente, el capitalismo está siendo sostenido solamente por las fronteras políticas que nos dividen. Este es un grito de guerra desde nuestrxs cuerpxs precarizadxs.

Las únicas acciones que pueden asegurar nuestra supervivencia son aquellas que rompen la división entre ciudadanx y no ciudadanx, esa barrera del paternalismo y la exclusión. Estas acciones significan reconocer que la supervivencia compartida está basada en la lógica de elaborar autonomías fuera del Estado y el Capital.

Eso quizás signifique hacer una barricada en la entrada de una instalación de ICE, bloquear un bus de deportación o esconder inmigrantes indocumentadxs de la policía, en vez de pretender que el Estado lxs va a proteger. En vez de esperar que organizaciones humanitarias se preocupen de lxs inmigrantes indocumentadxs, vayamos al centro de detención y construyamos amistades poderosas y autónomas con aquellxs que están detenidxs. Sobre todo, esto significa construir la infraestructura para nuestra supervivencia en común, a sabiendas de que las instituciones del Estado y las políticas electorales nunca han asegurado—y nunca asegurarán—que vivamos. Todos los intentos de inclusión en las políticas electorales están construidos sobre la exclusión de lxs otrxs.

Indistintamente del lado de la frontera, por quién sea que se vote, todxs somos ilegales.

The ICE Age Is Over: Reflections from the ICE Blockades

Starting in mid-June, occupations sprang up around the United States in protest against ICE (US Immigration and Customs Enforcement) on account of how US border policy breaks up families, incarcerates and forcibly drugs children, and deports millions—in some cases, to war zones in which they have no homes or resources. In the following accounts from the ICE occupations in Portland, Tacoma, and Atlanta, participants reflect on some of the internal challenges facing movements against the border regime.

We urge everyone to support the arrestees in the struggle against ICE in Portland and elsewhere around the United States. For more on how and why borders tear apart families, ruin lives, and create the conditions for exploitative capitalism, read our book, No Wall They Can Build.



Portland: Cracking the ICE

After itching to do something, anything, about the violence being enacted by ICE, I was pleased to hear that some folks participating in the march held on June 17 and ending at the ICE facility at 4310 SW Macadam Avenue in Portland had decided that they weren’t leaving. My first visit to the space that would become the commune was on June 19 in the early afternoon. If my memory serves, there were only a handful of tents, one or two canopies with kitchen and first aid supplies, and perhaps one portajohn. After observing for an hour or two, I approached folks to ask if there was anything I could bring and was asked to supply the encampment with ice and another cooler if possible.

In the hour it took me to run that errand, the small scattering of three or four tents became nine or ten, and the 40 or so people became, by my approximation, over 100.

Click the image above for downloadable PDF.

While ICE agents were still trapped in the building, a pizza delivery person showed up (from Bellagios, I think) to deliver food to the ICE agents. After walking around the building multiple times and not finding a way in, he gave up and left the huge stack of pizzas with the protestors.

When I showed up after work the next day, the camp was bigger still. That day, there was some alarm when DHS (Department of Homeland Security) showed up. People rallied and ran to the front entrance on the Macadam side of the building and were quickly forced aside by DHS. While I chose to stay behind in the driveway, in the event that that was the next target, by all accounts DHS escorted ICE agents who had been trapped inside the building into
their vehicles, with many of the ICE agents covering their faces.

Over the next few days, the camp expanded to include between 80 and 100 tents on either side of the bike path, in front of the main driveway, and spilling over into a field adjacent to the facility—as well as a large kitchen, a childcare area, a communications team, an engineering team, a medical tent, a front entrance check in, and other amenities. The engineering team, with the help of fellow occupiers and community members who delivered loads of pallets and furniture, fortified the encampment with barricades. We also worked on creating a boardwalk of sorts down the trolley tracks to provide a wheelchair-accessible way to reach all the tents providing services and in hopes of potentially creating more space for tents.

On Thursday, June 28, at 5:30 am, DHS tore down the barricade from the door on the Macadam side of the building to the far side of the driveway in order to enable officers and transport vehicles to come and go again. After many days of being shuttered, the building was open again.

I wasn’t able to make it until that afternoon, but the difference was striking. There was still an air of lightheartedness, but the seriousness of the situation was unmistakeable. We had known it was
coming and here it was. I opted to park far away and walk into the camp. DHS vehicles were absolutely infesting the surrounding area. I walked into the camp and immediately spotted snipers on the roof. Small children were yelling at them: “Quit your job!” and “You should feel bad!” There was a line of DHS officers in full riot gear lining the edge of the driveway, facing off with protestors. The engineering team was furiously assembling more barricades. Press was assembled outside the near entrance; I nearly walked face-first into a camera as I was trying to access the sidewalk. Security was tighter. I overheard multiple people who were standing around asked what they
were doing.

Overall, for me personally, it was a tremendously heartening experience. I worked with teams of people who were organized and dedicated. The atmosphere was refreshingly lively and upbeat, with
children running around and people of all stripes showing up to support the occupation with their labor, their bodies, and their time, or just to get a hot meal. I saw anarchists working alongside DSA, and lots of awesome solidarity. I witnessed vital, important work being done toward the goal of dismantling ICE.

That said, the occupation was not without its problems. I heard that comrades were thrown out for tagging the Tesla building and I wanted to find out what had gone down. When I first approached someone from the security team, they seemed as outraged as I was; they took me to folks who might know more.

I found myself speaking to two people. One seemed concerned if not exhausted; the other seemed annoyed if not hostile and eventually walked away from me. I didn’t have a lot of information at that moment, so I accepted that the person I was talking to didn’t either and left it at that. The day of the crackdown (June 28), I approached the person who had walked away from me, introduced myself, and stated that I hadn’t been there to cause problems, that I was genuinely concerned, and that I had more information if they wanted to talk about it. From my end, this was an earnest attempt to make peace with this person. They proceeded to berate me for defending the people who had done the tagging, telling me that it was inappropriate and put marginalized people at risk, that the account I heard from one of the people who were expelled was false. The person I was speaking with kept referring to some sort of nebulous “leadership,” and insinuated that the only reason I was there was
to get the expelled person’s stuff back. When I tried to express that actually I was making an attempt to offer an olive branch, despite our difference of opinions, they told me they were done with me and walked away.

This inability to have a conversation is a big problem. And that conversation is not just about property destruction—we have that one all the damn time. But I had legitimate questions: Was “no property destruction” decided to be a ground rule at a General Assembly? How were new people invited into the space? Were they made aware of the ground rules? (Who has the right to determine the proper form of resistance to an institution that is incarcerating people, drugging children, and separating families?) Was there a protocol established for how to handle violations? Was there
any accountability for people on the security team or in any other position abusing power? I think these are major recurring problems in spaces like this that need to be addressed before we can start
organizing across tendencies in any meaningful way.



Portland and Tacoma: You Can’t Build a Movement Based on Shame

I spent time at both the blockade in Portland, Oregon and the Northwest Detention Center Occupation in Tacoma, Washington. I think it is so inspiring and exciting that these occupations and blockades are happening all over the country. I wish they were happening in every city, at every ICE facility.

At both of these occupations, there were many anarchists with whom I felt affinity; but there were also aspects of these occupations that reminded me of the worst parts of the 2011 Occupy movement—including an intense form of privilege politics that I had hoped we had learned from and moved on from in the past seven years.

One of the most exciting aspects of resistance during times of intense repression and authoritarianism such as those we are experiencing now is the number of people who are radicalized and join anarchist struggles. It is a huge turning point for us—a time to spread anarchist ideas. Newly radicalized people are looking for direction. Often, however, they will follow the loudest voices—and the loudest voices are often the liberals or self-appointed “leadership” of a movement. I have seen both new people and seasoned revolutionaries being controlled by authoritarian privilege politics, accepting them out of fear of being seen as racist—even though most privilege politics are themselves racist, involving self-appointed white leaders claiming to speak for all people of color and claiming that people of color are always peaceful.

This is not to say that racism is not a huge problem in anarchist scenes. But adhering to reactionary privilege politics is often as bad as not addressing it at all.

At the occupation at the Northwest Detention Center, there were moments when the General Assembly was filled with anarchists; at these times, the assembly made consensus decisions to never talk to the police and to not have a police liaison or any sort of security force, and agreed that snitching and sexual assault were the only acceptable reasons to kick someone out of camp without discussion. There were other times when the General Assembly was full of liberals, self-appointed all-white leadership, and even a person who threatened to snitch if someone did anything illegal. These were the moments the camp felt the most stifling. We were told by that all-white “leadership” that the only acceptable action was to build the camp, for example, by cooking and organizing supplies. They maintained that any other actions would harm the people inside the detention center—all of whom, apparently, did not want tactics to escalate beyond cooking and taking out the trash.

To be clear: the NWDC is one of the biggest immigration prisons in the country. How they asked all 1500 people trapped inside it what tactics they do and don’t support was never explained to us. In fact, they could not and did not.


At the Portland occupation, I saw some people aggressively shamed for tagging the Tesla showroom. They were screamed at and kicked out of the entire occupation at 3 am. I also saw those same people later being described as white, although half of them were people of color, because it didn’t fit into their privilege politics narrative to admit that many people of color are invested in confrontational politics and escalation. As they were verbally assaulted and kicked out of camp, they were told that because they had tagged the Tesla showroom, it would be their fault if the police came to the blockade and took children away from their parents.

At the Tacoma blockade, one afternoon, a nonviolent direct action training took place. It began with two white people and one person of color aggressively shaming everyone in the space for the actions of the police. According to them, it was our fault that the ICE agents were torturing and raping people inside because demonstrators had been standing in the street the night before. It was our fault the ICE agents were torturing and raping people inside because a couple demonstrators had been drinking beer.

We must remember that the violence of the police is never our fault. The violence inflicted upon the migrants detained within the Northwest Detention Center, despite being escalated during the protest outside, is still entirely the fault of the police inflicting it.

Many of the people in the nonviolent direct action training were white folks who had never been to a protest before and were heavily influenced by being shamed and told how racist they were. This type of privilege politics, built on shaming people into inaction, is not how you build a movement. It doesn’t build momentum, it shuts it down. It doesn’t inspire people, it shuts them down. Shame is a feeling that does nothing but disempower people, which is the exact opposite of our goal—building power, together.

As I watched the people being kicked out of the Portland blockade that night, the “security team” evicting them repeatedly expressed the belief that if there was graffiti, the police would immediately come and shut down the camp. As if the police wouldn’t come to an illegal blockade if the building hadn’t been tagged! As if the police were allowing the camp to exist because of some morality that the police and the protestors shared, and the only reason the police would come would be if that morality were no longer shared. It was as if they believed that the protestors and the police had come to an agreement, in which as long as the police could trust the protestors to police each other, then the protestors could trust the police not to evict the camp.

But the police can never be trusted, and they will never share our ethics. We know, both from the logic of the state’s position as well as from our experience in past actions, that the police will always come—just as soon as they have the force to do so. However, the amount of force they need to evict a camp or shut down a demonstration often depends on how confrontational the demonstration is. The more confrontational the occupation, the more force the police will need to evict it and the longer it will take for them to amass that force.

One recent example of this is the Olympia blockade, which barricaded an active railroad for 12 days. The entire neighborhood was covered in anti-police graffiti. Cement was poured on the tracks. Security cameras were taken down. Parking meters in the area were broken. At any given time, the most people you might find at the blockade were 50-100 people. At night, it was down to 5-20 people. By contrast, if we count from the first day of the overnight occupation in Portland to the day the ICE building was reopened, the Portland blockade lasted 10 days—and the number of people at that blockade was often up to 1000 or more.

As we can see, the graffiti—and the smashed parking meters, broken security cameras, and so forth—at the Olympia blockade did not cause the police to come sooner. It actually took them longer to come, despite the blockade being only a fraction of the size of the Portland blockade. At the Portland blockade, people were busy policing each other. The actual cops didn’t even need to come. The protestors themselves were protecting the property of the government and the showrooms of capitalism. (Never mind that both the Tesla showroom and the ICE facility are owned by a man who openly admitted to running his Mercedes into demonstrators.)

We are in a time of crisis, in which the overt white nationalist terror of the state is clearer than ever. In this moment, we should build autonomous spaces in which people can take action outside of the control of political politicians and peace police. We believe this because of our political ethics of autonomy, but it is strategic as well. Confrontational tactics are a threat to the state, whereas any protest tactics that do not actually threaten the power of white supremacy can only reinforce it. The stronger we make the barricades, the longer we can hold off the police. The less we police each other, the less power we give to them.

As anarchists, how do we counter the politics of leadership, inaction and shame? How do we build our power even as the liberals and peace police are actively trying to strip it from us?



Atlanta: The ICE Age Is Over

In Atlanta thousands of people gathered early Saturday morning for a “Keep Families Together” march organized by NGO’s and members of the Democratic Party. Currently, several dozen participants in this march are still occupying a plaza outside the City Jail, which doubles as an ICE detention facility. While the group seems set to stay the night, the occupation still has a long way to go to connect with the thousands who took the street earlier in the day.

Strangely, the coalition that called for this march chose to start at the ICE facility, before marching away to go listen to speeches outside of the closed federal building. Surrounding the physical building where hundreds of immigrants are detained seemed like a good start, but the politicians in charge of the rally moved away from the site of real power to a symbolic site. Some participants who had their families in tow were overheard lamenting that the march was a little too tame for them, even with their kids in tow.

Autonomous groups and leftist groups that utilize non-electoral strategies had organized before the large demonstration to continue the march and return to the jail. After the rally was dismissed, a large banner reading “ICE BREAKERS: Chinga La Migra” was stretched across the street along with chanting and drums. Several hundred joined, despite liberal protest marshals attempting to discourage them from doing so. Together, they marched back to the jail, holding the streets the whole way.

Peachtree Street was blocked outside the jail as hundreds chanted and waved to those locked up inside. Cops drove motorcycles through the crowd, but the crowd did not back down; soon, a couch appeared in the streets and people began to set up tents. The atmosphere was festive, with many dancing to music or playing soccer. As the day wore on, the cops slowly began to encroach on the occupation, forcing people to clear the street, confiscating the couch and tents, and violently arresting one person. Numbers fluctuated throughout the day but remained over 50.

As of this writing, the occupation is ongoing, having resisted the initial attempts to push it out. There still remains a lot to do. The terrain of the occupation is favorable to autonomous groups and anarchists because we were the ones to push for it and to make it logistically possible, but unfortunately these circles comprise the bulk of the camp. Democrats were the first to call for an action and they sucked up the spontaneous energy of thousands with their march in the morning, though it is likely that whoever had been the first to call for a march would have drawn a large number of demonstrators.

We were enraged by the concentration camps and sought to catalyze a real movement against them. This energy was enough to enable us to push for an occupation no matter what the circumstance. Now we need to figure out how to bridge the distance between those who carry signs declaring #abolishice and those who want to shut down the ICE facilities themselves. How can the occupations grow, spread, and mutate?


Portland Holds It Down Against Fascists and Police: The Clashes of June 30, 2018

On June 30, on a day of nationwide demonstrations against the brutality of ICE (US Immigration and Customs Enforcement) and borders in general, fascists mobilized around the United States to march through downtown Portland protected by a massive phalanx of riot police. The ensuing clashes were reminiscent of the fascist mobilizations of 2017—especially April 15 in Berkeley and June 4 in Portland—but even more egregiously violent. Portland police already wrote the playbook on coordinating with fascists, but this time they opened their lines to let the fascists charge demonstrators, then attacked those the fascists had just attacked. From now on, every movement that attempts to come to grips with the violence of the state—such as the recent wave of protests against ICE—will likely have to deal with the violence of grassroots fascists protected by police as well. Let’s organize to make sure we’re prepared for the trouble ahead.

Here follows a full account from our comrades in Portland.


In Portland, OR, on June 30, Joey Gibson, Patriot Prayer, Proud Boys, Nazis, and the usualassortment of alt-right nationalists showed up to hold a “Freedom & Courage Rally” at Terry Schrunk Plaza at 4 pm. The event description was bizarre. It was almost Pentacostal in tone, speaking of “cleansing the streets of Portland” and finishing with a declaration: “WE WILL MARCH NO EXCEPTIONS.” They advertised that they’d confirmed participants from Washington, Oregon, California, Arizona, Texas, Massachusetts, and Florida, all the while pleading with the Portland Police Bureau for “fairness.” They had been run out of town earlier in June, apparently denied the police protection from anti-fascist demonstrators to which they’d grown accustomed. The irony of an overwhelmingly white ultra-nationalist group whining about “unfair” treatment from the police is hilarious, especially since the Portland Police riot line always faces the anti-fascists and police always attack and arrest anti-fascists—they never attack or arrest the fash. Cops and Klan go hand-in-hand, right?


The demonstration started off as usual. In Portland, the fascists rally on federal property (for their own protection, obviously) in the middle of downtown: Terry Schrunk Plaza. Anti-fascists assemble in the park adjacent to Terry Schrunk—it’s called Chapman Square. Since the police are quite aware of the dynamics involved with the demonstrators, they lined Madison Street, facing the anti-fascists in Chapman Square. As Portland has been on high alert because of the #OccupyICE protests for the past three weeks (and Terry Schrunk is federal), DHS (Department of Homeland Security) officers made their reappearance. They arrived wearing the federal government’s finest repression gear—caged helmets, masked faces, three-foot batons, pepper ball guns, and so on. A notable difference was that this time, the DHS police were organized into different teams, indicated by a stripe on the back of their helmets. The fascists also had their Halloween costumes on, ranging from a full-blown Pepe/Kek worshiper who looked like a wrestler to 3%ers (remember them helping police with arrests last summer?) wearing what looked like real combat gear. And they call anti-fascists LARPers?! Even Based Spartan made a re-emergence.

Anti-fascists taunted them with megaphones and chants, and the Unpresidented Brass Band provided a situationally-appropriate soundtrack, complete with “sad trombone” effects and a sousaphone every time one of the braver fash decided to “come talk” to the anti-fascists. Signs and banners were everywhere, and the bloc was a sprawling front line of roving fighters. The air was electric and numbers were clearly on our side, which always leads to one thing—state repression. One small group of anti-fascists were attacked by the fash, so the police responded by emptying what appeared to be pepper ball guns at the anti-fascists. This set the tone for the subsequent actions of the police.

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Twenty minutes later, police announced an official state action and the code under which it fell, and described the potential consequences if anyone chose to violate them. Essentially, they were warning anti-fascist demonstrators what to expect. This is certainly uncommon. It must have taken place because of the presence of major news outlets, and perhaps because the local police were working so openly with DHS. This action was to set up a police line and clear the street adjacent to the fascist demonstrators.

The fascists formed a self-described phalanx, which took about twenty minutes to assemble. Then they immediately began marching towards Chapman Square at full speed. The initial clashes were mitigated by police presence and the speed of the marchers, but there were visible amounts of trash and sticks flying through the air. The fascists turned towards the river, then turned back towards their original direction. It initially looked like they were establishing a serpentine reach, but instead they stopped after several blocks. Anti-fascist demonstrators had kept up with them the entire time, but kept a city block between both parallel marches. Anti-fascists grabbed street signs, barricades, construction barriers, and large sheets of wood to create barricades every time the fash attempted a charge. Then, as the fascists stopped and turned several blocks later, both groups began marching towards each other. A small group of anti-fascists broke off and there was a scuffle, followed by the anti-fascist charge.

It’s important to note that the fascists charged through police lines with the express intention of attacking anti-fascist demonstrators. And the police allowed them to. Remember all that equipment? Nothing was deployed against the attackers.

Today was not a typical day in Portland. This is a good indicator of what anti-fascists are up against. The level of physical and psychological intimidation from groups of goons who train together was overwhelming. This phenomenon should be familiar to us from history. During the previous rise of fascism, state power was transferred to what were essentially street gangs (think of the SS). June 30 was an example of that phenomenon recurring—perhaps the most visible I have personally seen in Portland. The scene was reminiscent of the fascist demonstrations in Berkeley in 2017; but with no police or physical objects to stop the rivers of demonstrators, the initial clash was brutal.

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Fireworks and mortars, bear mace, bludgeons, and weighted gloves were among the most visible weapons. The “Berkeley Charge” was repelled by the sheer numbers of the anti-fascist demonstrators and their advantageous positioning, but to be sure—the fascists were there to attack them at all costs. The sheer amount of blood spilled by both sides was unsurprising due to the fascists’ consistent state-backed escalation of violence. There were multiple beatdowns from both sides during this initial charge, and both sides peeled back momentarily. The fash left their front line entirely too far into the anti-fascist line, and they realized it and turned back. The police immediately used flash-bang grenades. Five minutes later, it was a declared a riot.


Both groups continued on the same trajectories as before and met up again several blocks later. The skirmishes continued for the next hour all throughout downtown. Finally, when the crowds arrived back at the original location (Terry Schrunk and Chapman Square), the state was able to repress most of the ant-fascist defense, while allowing the fascists to continue attacking intermittently. Since the demonstration had been declared a riot, state forces effectively cancelled the Patriot Prayer event by forcing both groups to march on the sidewalks. In the final scene, the remaining anti-fascists chanted “BYE BYE NAZIS” as the fascists mounted the singular vehicle they’d arrived in.

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Yes, that’s right—the fash brought a big yellow school bus. What version of reality are we in right now? The situation is bizarre, comrades. This is fascism.

It is worth noting the degree of collaboration between the fascists, the police, and the state. All three groups were visibly interfacing, coordinating, and collaborating. The transfer of power and state enforcement has already begun. Everyone should remember that Joey Gibson is a real estate agent and a wanna-be politician, and assuredly there were other politicians and would-be politicians within the Schrunk Plaza alongside him today.

Still, Portland had the numbers and the spirit on its side today against fascism. Anti-fascists gave no platform and no space, and even the state couldn’t protect the fash—although they tried as hard as they could.

The police tried to repress anti-fascists from the start. They attacked, they threatened arrest and violence, they allowed the fascists to stream through their lines to attack us. There was no holding back from either side today. And Portland held it down.

Before.

After.

Different Currents within the Nicaraguan Insurrection: And a Look Inside an Occupied University in Managua

As even the Russian state news service admits, the ongoing revolt in Nicaragua against Daniel Ortega’s government is coming largely from the left side of the political spectrum. While supporters of the authoritarian left exhort people to support “left” governments no matter what neoliberal policies they implement or how many people they slaughter, we believe that the declining fortunes of left governments throughout Latin America are not just the consequences of CIA conspiracies but a reaction to real shortcomings of the institutional left and of government itself. Doubtless, various capitalists and state actors have their own agendas for Nicaragua, and they hope to take advantage of the uprising to implement them. But ordinary people have legitimate reasons to rise up. We should identify the participants in the uprising who are pursuing goals complementary to our vision of a world without capitalism and the state, in order direct our solidarity towards them. Otherwise, as the Ortega government attempts to retain power by brute force, the revolt will likely be hijacked by right-wing and colonial interests.

While students were discussing what demands to make in the negotiations with Ortega, Dissensus Nicaragua published a translation of the CrimethInc. text “Why We Don’t Make Demandsin Spanish. The negotiations have broken down. Now the crisis is intensifying, with students continuing to occupy universities while the police continue killing people and Ortega refuses to back down. In the following report, our Nicaraguan correspondent outlines some of the tensions within the uprising and presents an eyewitness report from inside one of these occupied universities.

To read anarchists’ perspectives from within the uprising, consult our earlier reports, The April 19 Uprising in Nicaragua and Update from the Nicarguan Insurrection.

Rebel students in Nicaragua.


Different Forces in the Revolt

I am part of the affinity group that created sosnicaraguareporte.com, in Spanish. It includes a timelime and all sorts of information. It’s a good place for news. There is even a meme section!

As of this writing, over 100 people have been murdered by the state and the police in the uprising in Nicaragua. The majority have been students. On Mother’s Day in Nicaragua, May 30, there was a Mother’s Day march. This march broke all records for participation. The state police and Sandinista Youth attacked the march, killing 11 and injuring 79 all over Nicaragua.

We have not been able to discuss all the questions we would like to. Things are messy and changing constantly, and we are not the majority. Nevertheless, I will try to describe the situation.

We can see some tensions inside the movement. The most noticeable are the following:

The Private Sector vs. the Autovoncado Movements

The Autoconvocado movement (the coalition of student organizers and community organizers, independent from the Coalition of Students and Representatives in the dialogue) has been supporting a general strike as a way to escalate the situation and put more pressure on the government to negotiate and stop the killings. The private sector (which employs dozens of thousands of people and holds a lot of wealth and political power) has not advocated for a general strike, supposedly to avoid economic losses. As a consequence, for example, the city of Masaya organized autonomously and declared, independent of the private sector, that they would conduct a citywide general strike. That strike occurred and was violently repressed. Up to now, Masaya is the most dangerous and most affected city in Nicaragua, with over 10 people murdered by the police over last weekend.

Student Movements and the Student Coalition

There is very strong communication between the student movement and the Student Coalition that is representing the movement at the level of dialogue with the state. But many participants in the student movement feel that the Student Coalition is being very soft and diplomatic. The Coalition is a group of student organizers from multiple universities all over Nicaragua; they are the ones representing the movement in the negotiations with the state. The student organizers that form the coalition emerged from affinity groups that were created at the beginning of the student protests. I don’t know exactly how they got so much power—it was a combination of being in the right place at the right time and knowing the right people. These students were the first ones to present themselves as leaders.

So the power distribution is very vague and there are instances when they have been accused of selling out. The Student Coalition representatives are the ones who release the communiqués and plans of action, and the ones who talk to the press the most. Nevertheless, it is possible for student dissidents to claim that the Coalition does not represent them and to provide a different set of demands and methods.

There are also complaints that the Student Coalition does not offer space for anyone’s voices besides those of men when it comes to delegating the responsibilities.

The participant in the Student Coalition that comes closest to our perspective is probably Enrieth Martínez.

The gates of UNAN, the National Autonomous University of Nicaragua, in Managua. The sign reads “UNEN [the official student union] doesn’t represent me.”

Managuacentrism

A lot of the power and decision-making process has been focused on students in Managua, since the capital has been the site of the major manifestations and occupied universities. But the cities that have been affected the most have been outside of Managua—cities that don’t have a university campus, where the residents are defending themselves through citywide barricades and something like a general strike. There is no effective communication among people in the different cities, since the strategy has been to block all major roads and transportation. At the table of the dialogue with the state, there are no representatives from the cities that are affected the most. Here is where several groups have advocated for self-governance and self-administration as a way to take the decision-making power out of Managua.

Feminism

The first and most prominent critiques of the government and the state arose from feminists. Since the 1980s, feminists have critiqued the hierarchical and patriarchal aspects of the Sandinista Movement. In a famous speech by Daniel Ortega on International Women’s day at the peak of the Sandinista Revolution, Ortega said that the revolutionary duty of women was to give birth to the next generation of revolutionaries. This showed how the revolution viewed women and women’s participation in everything. It has been feminists who have critiqued the state as connected to machista and religious culture in Nicaragua and Latin America. It has been feminists who have denounced hierarchies in the family, in politics, in culture, and in the state. It has also been women who have constantly said that the war against the people did not start on April 19, it started way before, but it was carried out against rural women and indigenous people in Nicaragua.

On the Question of Capitalism

People need to understand that the Nicaraguan people are sacrificing economic stability for social justice. Nicaragua was perceived as safe, an economic paradise for investment, but this only came about through the centralization of political power. Like Vietnam and China, a single-party centralized government has been an incentive to draw private investors.

Nicaragua’s economic stability, which took 10 years to build, only benefitted the upper middle class and the upper class. This created a false sense of “progress,” “development,” and “stability,” all of which the government celebrated. In reality, most of the people worked in informal sectors and did not have access to jobs. In this sense, participants in the student movement are forced to start asking questions: “OK, now I have graduated from an Autonomous University, now what? Where am I going to work? And at what price?” The vast majority of college majors and programs were “pro-market majors” focusing on business administration, engineering, computer science, marketing, tourism, and the like.

The student movements will need to address capitalism and neoliberalism and start to see how their struggle intersects with the anti-capitalist movement outside of authoritarian governments. These conversations have not started yet.

I think a lot of people are disappointed in the lack of international support towards people in Nicaragua. Americans only cared about us as long as they could come to Nicaragua to vacation and enjoy cheap things. On an international level, many of those who support the Nicaraguan insurrection are not asking hard questions about their own governments and structures. Hopefully, we can find a way to make would-be allies start addressing these questions themselves. It’s true, we are seen as a “legitimate” movement that wants “democracy” (whatever that means). If we succeed, we will see how many countries will support our efforts to collectivize, autonomize, and decentralize.

Will the United States still support us after they realize our intention to go ever further left? Will a centrist government create the conditions for more radical politics to emerge? This is a long-term plan; the Ortegas will do the best they can to stay in power at whatever cost. They would prefer to stay in power in a destroyed country than give up power in a way that leaves the country stable.

I think the conversation regarding “politicians,” “elections,” “the state,” “political participation,” and “the police” are all up in the air. It’s an opportunity to create new local concepts. After everything that has been lost—entire towns burned to the ground and children executed in the street—we will not settle for less. Whatever government comes next will need to radically change what it means to do politics.

I think we are trying everything from every possible angle, and it will be the people who will decide what best fits their spiritual needs. We are attacking state power from every angle, some angles more “institutional,” “democratic,” and “legimitate” than others, but somehow these are all complementing each other.

Unfortunately, we don’t know if we are moving forwards or backwards. We just know what the government is doing everything, desperately to survive, and every single day, they lose more support. As the saying goes, El que no critica a su gobierno, no quiere a su madre! Those who don’t criticize their government don’t love their mothers.

A protest at UNAN.


Appendix: Inside an Occupied University in Managua

After a week of communicating with my contact inside the Universidad Nacional Autonoma de Nicaragua (UNAN), I received a message from him: “I’ll be at the main entrance in 15 minutes. I can meet you there if you want to come inside, meet everybody, and see what we’ve been up to.”

For a week, I had been participating in a support system helping the occupation at UNAN from the outside. At first, my contact, Guadalupe (a pseudonym) had advised me not come inside for fear that infiltrators might recognize me and harass me outside. But as things seemed to have settled down, I was invited in.

With about 30,000 students, UNAN is the largest public university in Nicaragua. Students have been occupying it since May 8. Every major entry is blocked by two sets of barricades, starting blocks away from the main Portones (entry gate). Each porton is guarded by at least 15 students armed with morteros (mortors).

“Dress up as a medical student and bring a med kit, just in case anybody is watching. They are less likely to be suspicious if you enter as a ‘medic,’” Guadalupe told me.

I crossed the main Porton and met Guadalupe for the first time. “Second in command” in the occupation, he is also a part of the committee representing the students in the national dialogue. He is 23 years old and a student at UNAN. Guadalupe was part of the first protest organizers inside of UNAN. Currently he divides his time between working inside and outside of UNAN, inside as a coordinator and outside as a delegate of UNAN as part of a larger student coalition.

The organization inside of UNAN involve “leaders” from different portones and sectors (Medical, Food, Supply) that meet up and negotiate responsibilities and priorities. These leaderships emerged out of the first week of occupation and were agreed upon by all. Since each porton is semi-autonomous, it can operate as a closed circuit in case of an attack, without the necessity of a top-down decision-making process that would involve the entire University. Roles were distributed by voluntary association and based around shifts so that everybody can rest. Main roles are: Guarding the barricades, sorting through donations, food, cleaning, guarding the portones, medical attention, communications and coalition participation.

Its important to note that the organization inside the occupied Universities occurred spontaneously. They did not follow a pre-established or pre-rehearsed organizational model. This model of organizing was the most efficient, participatory and democratic. Remember that young Nicaraguans did not have an “occupy movement” o something similar that could have provided the blueprint of how to organize. The only political models that were practiced were through hierarchical political parties, and ONG’s leadership training.

Here are the rules inside the gates: everybody in the University uses pseudonyms; you are not allowed to take any photos or videos of anything; if you are texting, you have to do it with your phone facing the ground. In Nicaragua, it is very common for people to use nicknames, usually derived from physical cues like La Flaca (the skinny one), El Gordo (the fat one), El Negro (the black one), La Zorra (the Fox), El Chino (the Chinese one), El Chele (the light-skinned one), El Gringo (the gringo).

Guadalupe confirmed my identity and began to show me around the university campus. Most of the muchachos (“the boys”—a word that includes girls) were busy taking over UNI, the Engineering University, so UNAN was somewhat quiet. Later that day, the police and Sandinista Youth attacked UNI, injuring 30 students and killing one of them.

We approach the geology building, which has been turned into a medical center. “This is one of the newest buildings of this University and we are protecting it, because we plan on using these facilities in the future for our education.” I see rooms full of medical supplies, and a lot of students sleeping in the hallways in sleeping bags. “Those are the muchachos from the night shift at the barricades. They sleep here during the day. Not all of them are from UNAN—some of them are neighbors that are too afraid to go back home.”

The hallways are dark and quiet, but everything is clean and organized. There are cleaning crews; students know the rules, which rooms to go into and which not to go into. “We need to protect this building. It’s the geology building. We are protecting diamonds and meteors that are worth thousands of dollars, but we want to save them for future generations to learn and study.”

The entire university is protected. You don’t see graffiti on the walls. All the classrooms are locked. The restaurants inside of the university are also protected because the occupiers don’t want the occupation to affect the small business owners who need to keep a job.

We left the building and approach one of the cooking and food collection sheds. The leader of this zone is called Aymara. She administrates the food in this section and keeps a tight record of all the food donations that come in. She distributes the food and supplies wherever they are needed the most.

A map showing the distribution of conflict around Managua.

What do you all do for food?

“We’re living off Gallo Pinto.” (Gallo Pinto—rice and beans—is the most popular Nicaraguan dish). “We don’t have a set time for breakfast. If the muchachos are hungry but don’t want to leave their post, we’ll send food their way. Every day, we must cook three meals for about 400 people.” The joke in Nicaragua is that we eat rice and beans for breakfast, beans with rice for lunch and Gallo Pinto for dinner.

Aymara also showed me a shed full of food, enough food for months, all of which has been donated by people all over Nicaragua. It is rationed out daily. Pointing to an immense pile of spoiled food, Aymara said “You see all that food? That’s all poisoned food. Sometimes people send us bananas with needles inside, or bread injected with rat poison. We need to double-check everything that we receive. That’s why we prioritize canned goods.”

“We also managed to jumpstart five university trucks and one tractor, which we use inside and outside of the university.”

This article does a good job describing the leadership of women inside and outside of the student movement. I studied with the author, Madeleine Caracas, and we both started out in the same organizing committee in early April.

Each porton operates semi-autonomously. Each zone has its own medical center, food center, and bomb-making center, each with a delegate in every porton. Every porton is always ready to defend itself. Two nights before my visit, an armed man on a motorcycle rapidly approached a barricade, shooting at the students. The students defended themselves with mortars and injured the motorcyclist, who destroyed his phone before the students moved him to a local hospital. He died on the way there.

This was a very confusing scenario. The man on the motorcycle underestimated the abilities of the students to defend themselves. Why would he attack the barricades by himself? Did he plan on shooting, perhaps killing, some students and then retreating? We don’t know.

Such attacks usually happen at night. Keep in mind that this university is the size of an entire neighborhood, with hundreds of buildings, classrooms, departments and soccer and basketball courts, with six different entryways. In order to add more protection at night, the barricades are moved further out of the university perimeter to create more of buffer zone.

Unlike UPOLI, UNAN does not have the support of the local community to protect them. In this sense, the students are more exposed. UNAN is neighbored by La Colonia Miguel Bonilla, which is an Orteguista neighborhood. This community was created in the 1980s during the Sandinista Revolution, and most of the houses are owned by the police, the military, and high-ranking military officials. This neighborhood was one of the military headquarters during the Somoza dictatorship, but was confiscated during the revolution and given to UNAN students for housing and to military, police, and civilians to live in. Therefore, most of the families that live inside of La Miguel Bonilla strongly support the Orteguista government as a “revolutionary government.” If you are political dissident in La Miguel Bonilla, you must keep a low profile; there have been many cases of harassment by the community towards anti-Ortega supporters. La Miguel Bonilla is also where a lot of UNAN administration officials live, the safe officials that perpetuate and institutionalize the Orteguista influence inside of the University.

The UNAN has a strong barricade in front of the entrance to La Miguel Bonilla, since a majority of the attacks have been organized inside of the neighborhood, which functions as a safe space for Orteguista forces.

What do you want to accomplish?

“We want to obtain university autonomy, a complete restructuring of UNEN [the chief Nicaraguan student union], and a complete restructuring of the internal administration of the University. Every day we spend in this university, we are sending a message to all of Nicaragua about how far we are willing to go to offer quality education for our generation and future generations.”

What does autonomy mean to you?

“It means professors not getting fired because they oppose decisions that the government has been making. It means giving access to scholarships to everybody, not just the Sandinista Youth. It means taking the Orteguista party out of the Universiy’s administration. It means studying things that matter. We need a student-centered education and not an Orteguista-centered education, and this is happening not just at the University level but also at the Primary and Secondary school education level.”

I noted Campus Security was still present in the University. I asked about their role in the university during the occupation. Guadalupe told me, “They work here because they are privately hired, so they don’t want to lose their jobs. They have helped us identity infiltrators and have been extra set of eyes and ears their own communities, to help the students. They’re on our side.”

For context, in Nicaragua, Campus Security is nothing like the police or “private security.” They do not carry weapons; they do not have the power to turn people in to the police. This job was created in the 1990s when so many revolutionaries were jobless. These jobs are done at a very low wage by very poor families, usually protecting empty lots.

What message do you have for students around the world?

“Hopefully we can inspire students to occupy their universities and start building the kind of university they want to study in.

“It’s also super important for Universities to have a good relationship with their neighborhood. That way you can involve the community in matters that affect the university and start building solidarity.”


The students I met and spoke with in UNAN seem to have developed an unbreakable bond based on solidarity that crosses gender and class backgrounds. They appear willing to die for each other and to protect the future they believe in. They have spent over three weeks building barricades, conspiring, living together, and protecting each other, forever changing what it means to be a student in Nicaragua.

A protest at UNAN

What comes next? Will other forces intervene in Nicaragua to maintain and intensify neoliberalism? Or will the rebellion expand its scope and analysis to take on the forces beyond the Ortega regime?

HackBack! Talking with Phineas Fisher: Hacking as Direct Action against the Surveillance State

We spoke with the world-famous hacker persona and self-proclaimed anarchist revolutionary Phineas Fisher about the politics behind their attacks on the surveillance industry, the ruling party in Turkey, and the Catalan police. Here follows a retrospective on the exploits of Phineas Fisher, followed by their remarks to us.

Text and interview by BlackBird.


Hacking is often depicted as something technical, a simple matter of attack and defense. Yet motivations are everything. The same technique that builds oppressive tools can be used as a weapon for emancipation. Hacking, in its purest form, is not about engineering: it is about leveraging power dynamics by short-circuiting technology. It is direct action for the new digital world we all live in.

In the shadows of the techno-empire, the hacking scene became a target for cooptation and infiltration. But the underground cannot be eradicated: from time to time, a new action breaks through the surface. Some of the hackers we admire are coders who produce tools for online privacy and anonymity. Other crews create and distribute alternative media. And then there are those who hack back.


The Lost Hacker Circles

It is no secret, for anyone paying attention, that for a long time the hacker underground was also taking sides in the ongoing war. Yet the effervescence that characterized the underground DIY scene of the past few decades has died down, or at least receded to less visible places.

Pessimists mourned the death of hacker communities in a proliferation of individual desertions. It is true that the techno-military complex succeeded in swelling the ranks of the mercenaries: there is a price at which a particular mindset can be bought, whether with money, success, the feeling of power, or the excitement of playing with fancy toys while chasing what state propaganda labels “the enemy.”

The underground sought to multiply zones of opacity and resistance, while public perception shifted towards normalizing the relationship between the hacker attitude and technology. Hackers were no longer seen as rebel teenagers producing chaos in a casual game (as depicted by movies from the eighties or nineties like War Games or Hackers), but as a highly specialized unit of the military occupation forces—or else as their comic-book-level villain counterparts. In the most depoliticized version, the term “hacker” is understood as just another name for the capitalist entrepreneur, a myth you can find in the “hackerspaces” of any gentrified city.

The surveillance industry was so proud of its business that it did not bother concealing it. Representatives of the armed forces and vendors of spy programs showed up regularly at hacker community events, openly recruiting talent. Commercial videos pitching “offensive security” tactics circulated openly, selling products to intelligence agencies, corporations, and governments.

It’s an old story: states buy legitimacy in the eyes of the public by portraying themselves as fighting the kinds of crime very few dare to discuss—child pornography, human trafficking, international terrorism. But as soon as they have the surveillance weapons in their arsenals, they direct these weapons against the entire population.

In the middle of this ongoing cooptation of the hacker world, the surveillance complex experienced an important yet invisible blow. An individual—or perhaps a group—fought back by hacking spyware companies and publishing the contents of their secret vaults. When you’re fighting an industry that depends on secrecy, publicly disclosing their internal communications and tools can be a very effective strategy.


The GammaGroup Hack

In August 2014, a hack took place against “GammaGroup,” an Anglo-German vendor of spy programs. A dump of 40Gb of information followed. After this hack, there were no more secrets about GammaGroup: everything was made public, including their clients, product catalog, price lists, and the programs themselves, along with their training manuals.

The star product of the company, a program named “FinFisher,” had been sold to more than 30 government agencies and police forces to spy on journalists, activists, and dissidents. The company had been infecting dissidents in Bahrain and Egypt in the wake of the Arab Spring. They usually used social engineering to trick their targets into installing the software.

A targeted dissident would click on a document attached to an email, or open a link that would install the spyware. From there on, the clients who bought the spyware from the company would have control over the infected computer or cellphone, monitoring microphones, voice and Skype calls, messages, and emails, not to mention continuous location tracking.

Immediately after the hack, someone began tweeting from an account posing as the Gamma PR. The info dump was not enough: a hacker going by PhineasFisher released an old-school text file containing a tutorial with the details of the attack on Gamma:

“I’m not writing this to brag about what an 31337 h4x0r I am and what m4d sk1llz it took to 0wn Gamma. I’m writing this to demystify hacking, to show how simple it is, and to hopefully inform and inspire you to go out and hack shit… I wanted to show that the Gamma Group hack really was nothing fancy, and that you do have the ability to go out and take similar action.”

The name of that phile was “HackBack—A DIY Guide for those without the patience to wait for whistleblowers.” For a gravely wounded hacker community, in which the original solidarity, freedom, and open exchange of information was losing ground against the commodification of knowledge by the market and the empire, this action was a breath of fresh air. And—perhaps—the beginning of a movement.

You are the target.

HackedTeam

“You want more. You have to hack your target. You have to overcome encryption and capture relevant data, being stealth [sic] and untraceable. Exactly what we do.”

You can hear these words in the commercial for a product called “Da Vinci,” a “remote control system” that was sold worldwide by an Italian company named “Hacking Team.”

A company so shamelessly called “Hacking Team” is what results when a local police department approaches two hackers of a mercenary mindset with a request for collaboration. The cybercrime unit of Milan’s police force decided that passive monitoring was not enough for their purposes; to fulfill their offensive needs, they asked Alor and Naga, two famous Italian hackers, for help modifying a well-known hacking tool that they had originally authored.

Who their clients were and how they managed to infect and spy on their victims remained a secret until July 5, 2015. That day, the twitter account for the company announced: “As we have nothing to hide, we are publishing all our e-mails, files, and source code,” providing links to more than 400 Gigabytes of data. As usual, the company initially claimed that the leak was comprised of false information, but forging such a tremendous amount of data would be an almost impossible feat.

The ones who suspected that the attack had a familiar signature were not wrong: the sarcastic nickname of Phineas Fisher was once again behind the disclosure.

By publishing all the internal information—and, later, another tutorial exploring technical details and political motivations—Phineas Fisher offered the world undeniable evidence about the operations of the 70 customers of Hacking Team. Most of these customers were military, police forces, and federal and provincial governments; the total revenue added up to over 40 million Euros. You can read the full list of customers here.

This info dump confirmed that there were very good reasons for the global demand for privacy and anonymity. Alongside the Snowden revelations, the ability to peek into HackingTeam’s dirty secrets gave us an idea of the magnitude of the campaign of targeted surveillance being carried out by governments and corporations. We know today that there are many other unscrupulous firms profiting from illegal spy operations—such as the Israel-based NSO Group, recently involved in targeted infection of the devices of journalists investigating the Iguala massacre in Mexico, which used base tricks to lure their victims into compromising their own devices.

This anonymous unmasking of HackingTeam was a brilliant operation with global repercussions.

[[hhttps://cloudfront.crimethinc.com/assets/articles/2018/06/05/3.jpg]]

A Market for Secrets

A business like Hacking Team depends on secrecy. To infect their targets, in many of the cases something called a “zero day”1 is used. A zero day is a vulnerability in a computer program that has not been publicly disclosed yet, which can be exploited by anyone who knows about it to attack computer programs, data, or networks, in many cases offering complete remote control over them. Recently, surveillance capitalism has created a net of companies that act as brokers, buying these vulnerabilities in black and gray markets. The price for a single zero day can range from $10k to $300k or even $1 million.

Spyware companies like Hacking Team “weaponize” these vulnerabilities, gluing several of them together and selling licenses to the forces of repression so they can simply “click and spy,” with the added possibility of custom developments for penetrating the systems that belong to chosen victims.

The window of opportunity to take advantage of these “zero days” gets shorter over time. The more you use the knowledge of an unknown vulnerability, the higher the chances that someone will notice the attack and start investigating the holes that allowed it, and the higher the likelihood that other groups will find the same holes. The opportunity to use the vulnerabilities ends when the software in the user’s device is patched to fix the errors: this is why it is so important to keep our devices up to date. However, there are cases in which the manufacturers of our devices make the update procedure difficult or even impossible.

Vulnerability brokers and spyware vendors make it possible for technically incompetent people to infect, spy, and exfiltrate data from their targets just by filling forms and clicking around a web application. We saw this when we were able to dissect software like XKeyscore or Hacking Team’s Galileo suite.

The irony is that selling dumb-proof spy tools to the cops can give you a false sense of security. Phineas found that the compromised systems were using absolutely lame passwords such as “P4ssword,” “wolverine,” or “universo.” No one is free from the basic rules of operational security!

Hack the Planet! Erdogan and Rojava

Another advantage of cyberspace is that you do not have to travel to attack a target on the other side of the world. You do not even have to get out of bed, although often that is a good idea in order to keep a balanced mind.

“I hacked AKP,” Phineas announced in 2016 after having breached the servers of the ruling Turkish party. A dump of more than 100GB of AKP files and emails was passed on to the revolutionary forces in Kurdistan. Phineas had to hurry because Wikileaks published the information before he even finished downloading all the data.

Information is not the only thing that arrived in Kurdistan thanks to hacking actions: Phineas also exploited a vulnerability in the security systems of an undisclosed bank and sent 10,000 euros in bitcoin to Rojava Plan, a group coordinating international solidarity with the autonomous region of Rojava.

Mossos and Scapegoats

In May 2016, after watching the documentary “Ciutat Morta,” Phineas thought about trying a simple attack on the Catalan Police Forces. Ciutat Morta is a film about the 4F case, a famous case in the history of the Spanish state in which repressive forces tortured and imprisoned several young people from South America as an act of revenge after a policeman was put into a coma by the impact of a stone following a police charge in downtown Barcelona.

As a result of this new hacking action, using a well-known vulnerability, Phineas defaced the website of the union of the Catalan police with an ironic manifesto declaring that the organization “was refounded as a union in favor of human rights.” A data dump with personal details of some 5000 police accounts appeared, along with a 40-minute video tutorial on the techniques used in the hack.

Shortly afterwards, the police carried out several raids on social centers and hacklabs in Barcelona, then claimed to have caught the famous hacker. Only hours later, journalists reported that the same person had contacted them to say that “he was alive and well” and that the police forces had only imprisoned a scapegoat who happened to have retweeted the info in the dumps.

After the Catalan police carried out a series of unsuccessful raids in pursuit of the hacker, Phineas Fisher agreed to do an interview with Vice Magazine on the condition that his answers be presented by a puppet.

But Who Is This Phineas Phisher, Really?

One of the most interesting consequences of the Phineas Fisher actions is the look you see in the eyes of your fellow hackers when you discuss the topic with them. Chileans will tell you that Phineas is obviously a Latino. Squatters in Barcelona swear that the tone is familiar. Italians will do the same. US-Americans think she or he speaks like one of them. And then there is the commonsense assumption that, like any good hacker, Phineas must be Russian—one of those Russians who speaks surprisingly good Spanish.

There is indeed something familiar in the actions of this ghost: a deep sense of justice and internationalism, and the feeling that his actions will continue to remain under the radar, because—just as in the past—nobody could believe that a person living an otherwise ordinary life could be the mind behind such deeds.

The truth is, no one cares—except for the cops, who are having a hard time identifying this persona despite all their adversarial modeling paraphernalia and stylistic analysis tools. We don’t care about the identity of the person who does these things. It doesn’t matter, in the end: when that identity is burned, a new one will appear. Once you ditch the cult of personality, you suddenly gain a lot of freedom.

What we do care about is that, whoever it is, it is one of us, and his actions help us to realize our power.

These direct actions show that, while a lot of effort and dedication might sometimes be needed to cultivate a concrete skillset, most of the time nothing extraordinary is strictly needed. Perhaps you are not particularly technically inclined, but you might be good with people: often, that is the only thing that is needed to pull off an awesome hack. Or you might not come from a technical background, but a determined and playful perseverance can achieve more than any formal training when it comes to making a breach in the realm of cubicle bureaucrats that only care about enforcing policy.

Security is not an absolute quality; there will never be an absolute power in cyberspace. Quoting Phineas: “That’s the beauty and asymmetry of hacking: with 100 hours of work, one person can undo years of work by a multi-million dollar company. Hacking gives the underdog a chance to fight and win.”

The actions of a humble but motivated hacker can go further than the big, inflated egos of the cyber-security industry, or the academics who do not dare to act outside of the box. It’s not always the big hacks that change reality: someone who learns how to stay anonymous, someone who is not afraid and keeps the discipline needed not to leak personal details already has a huge advantage. Not having an ego to feed is also crucial in the business of keeping one’s personal freedom.

Eventually, Phineas Fisher went silent. “I killed the accounts because I had nothing else to say.” And probably it was enough. Sometimes a little action is all that is needed to shift the collective mood, to render us aware of our own power.

Epilogue: Silent Years of Expropriation to Come

Phineas Fisher is dead. It was more than a name: the tip of an underground network of practices and desires. It was not one, but several actions. Cybernetic guerrilla: hit and hide.

However, as anyone who wrote to the hackback email can report, Phineas is still enjoying freedom these days. Engaging in charming conversation, he or she will demonstrate that state does not have absolute control. As he likes to repeat: it is still possible to attack the system and get away with it.

Phineas has kept himself busy. He enjoys talking from the shadows about his new occupation. As he told us:

“Expropriation has some material effects, but it really is an ideological weapon. The rules of this system are not immutable facts, but rules imposed by a minority, and rules that we can question, change, and even break. When someone robs a bank, the State spends huge resources investigating it, not because it makes any economical sense to spend 100k while investigating a 3k robbery, but they spend it because it protects the shared illusion of private property. They try to wipe out that rebel spirit that plays outside of their rules.”

He adds:

“You don’t need computer science studies to be able to participate in what the former NSA chief Keith Alexander refers to as responsible for the greatest transfer of wealth in the world’s history. In this big project, most of the work is not done by hackers, but by lay people, those who know how to find addresses where to receive post and parcels, how to use a fake ID in a convincing way, and how to use a burner phone. Those are all the skills you need to open a cellphone contract, open bank accounts and ask for loans, make online purchases and receive them. Everyone can learn how to use the Tor Browser and bitcoin, and participate in the darknet markets. Mafia and organized crime acknowledged this change, but anarchists open to illegalism and expropiation did not yet realize that we are not in the pre-internet world anymore, and that there are better tactics than robbing a bank with a gun. We are living an unique moment in history, and we have a great opportunity.”

Indeed we do. Long life to hacking, and to all silent expropriations to come.

  1. To learn more about software vulnerabilities and government cyberwar, watch the documentary Zero Days about the “Stuxnet” affair. 

Insurrection is Not a Game: Play, Resistance, and Designing the Game “Bloc by Bloc”

What is an anarchist game? Is it a game that promotes anarchist values? A game that depicts anarchist activities? A game that subverts and destabilizes power structures? What can gaming theory teach anarchists—and what can anarchists teach through games? To explore these and other questions, we conducted the following interview with TL, game designer and artist of Bloc by Bloc: The Insurrection Game.

Bloc by Bloc is available on Kickstarter until June 14.

—Why do you think creative activity is important for anarchists?

Creative resistance is one of the essential elements of a thriving anarchist movement. Play and imagination allow for the kind of experimentation that can reveal cracks in the systems of control. Anarchists need to be able to imagine other worlds and other forms of life in order to position their activities in opposition to this one. When creativity is allowed to flourish in anarchist spaces, it’s easier to neutralize stifling and toxic modes of social organization.

Bloc by Bloc 2nd edition game box art.

—Is Bloc by Bloc just a form of entertainment? Or are there other dimensions to the project and what you hope it will accomplish in the world?

Bloc by Bloc is a tabletop game that simulates the urban rebellions that we have seen in cities around the world over the past 10 or 15 years. The goal of this project is to produce a fun and educational gaming experience. I don’t want to pretend this is anything more than that. That’s one of the reasons the graphics in Bloc by Bloc are playful, reminiscent of colorful cartoons. It’s important that we don’t take the project too seriously or overstate its political impact. That would be misleading and disrespectful to everyone who has been out there in the streets in real struggles that have real consequences.

But games can be powerful tools for exploring complex ideas. That’s one of the main reasons I continue to work in this medium.

The game of Bloc by Bloc (broken glass not included).

When we play games, we create stories out of the interaction between players, game mechanics, and components. The best games craft rich and emergent stories that change each time we play them. These stories mirror archetypical narratives that we find throughout society. This is why games can feel so meaningful: they create a temporary space in which we can safely explore the stories that define our lives. This space is referred to as “the magic circle.”

Bloc by Bloc creates a magic circle in which players can explore stories of contemporary revolt and resistance. It’s a response and a challenge to the ubiquitous narratives of colonization, industrialization, statecraft, authoritarian hero-worship, and chauvinist violence that dominate much of tabletop gaming—and digital gaming even more so. In this way, it can be understood as an anarchist intervention in the world of gaming.

—Does Bloc by Bloc have antecedents? What were your points of reference when you were designing it?

A group of us first started brainstorming ideas for an insurrection board game in the summer of 2010. None of us were experienced gamers; we had very little to draw on in terms of antecedents. Our points of reference were the struggles and insurrections we had been following very closely. The uprising initiated by a teachers strike in Oaxaca, Mexico during the second half of 2006 had a major impact on these early conversations that would eventually shape the contours of what we now call Bloc by Bloc. The youth revolt that spread across all of Greece following the police murder of the young anarchist Alexis Grigoropolous in the Exarcheia neighborhood of Athens in December 2008 was another point of inspiration. Here in Oakland, the protests and riots in response to a white police officer killing a young Black man named Oscar Grant in January 2009 gave us firsthand experience with some of the ways these moments can unfold.

Early sketches during the development of Bloc by Bloc.

Based on these recent historical events, we stitched together the general framework for the game. We knew that all the players would need to be factions of the insurrection and that the game would somehow play the role of the state. We also decided that the game would be a race against time until the military or some kind of federal force intervened to reestablish order. And finally, we came up with a list of actions that players should be able to take: barricading, looting, occupying, and clashing with police. This laid the foundation for the game; all of these ideas are central to Bloc by Bloc 8 years later. Probably due to our limited knowledge of game mechanics and theories of gaming, we didn’t get very far in the actual game development process back in 2010. “The Insurrection Game,” as we called it at the time, sat on the shelf for years. It wasn’t until after another round of even larger uprisings around the world between 2011 and 2014 in places like Cairo, Istanbul, and Ferguson that I felt motivated to circle back to the project. I studied some contemporary tabletop games like Settlers of Catan, Pandemic, Forbidden Desert, and Dead of Winter, and I read up on theories and approaches to game design.

In early 2015, we began playtesting the first working prototypes of Bloc by Bloc. At first, the game was unplayable. But the iterative process was in motion.

Barricade in Istanbul during the Taksim Commune and the struggle for Gezi park, 2013.

Since then, I have learned more about the history of subversive and anti-authoritarian tabletop games out there in the world. Suffragetto is a game from 1909 that simulates women’s suffrage protestors clashing with police. What we now know as the game Monopoly was originally a game called The Landlord’s Game that critiqued real estate speculation and finance capitalism. Class Struggle*, Chicago Chicago, and Mai 68 Le jeu are a few other titles from the 1970s and ’80s that attempted to simulate popular uprisings. A few years ago, some Italian comrades created a game called Riot that features anarchists, autonomists, police, and nationalists fighting each other in the streets. It’s interesting to note that most of these games assume that one player needs to take on the role of the police. This is something we knew from the very start we would not be including in the framework for Bloc by Bloc.

—What are the advantages of the tabletop game format for telling these stories, as opposed to, say, a novel, a film, a video game, an oral history?

Creating Bloc by Bloc allowed us to explore social upheaval through the lens of systems thinking. A game is a great way to simulate the cybernetic forms of control exercised by institutionalized power. And it allows players to experiment with emergent forms of cooperative strategy to liberate themselves from these oppressive systems. There really isn’t another medium out there that enables this sort of emergent systems approach to telling these stories.

Another important way that tabletop games are great for telling these stories is that they are inherently social. There’s something powerful about exploring the dynamics that shape social insurrections through discussion, play coordination, and conflict with others face to face around a table.

However, this format also comes with drawbacks. A game is itself a sort of cybernetic system made up of various positive and negative feedback loops. The necessity of creating a stable gaming system that functions as a fun game makes it impossible to fully simulate real world events, which are defined by their chaotic and ever-changing nature.

The Bloc by Bloc rulebook.

—Tell us about some of the specific components and dynamics of the game, and how you crafted them to convey strategic lessons about real life.

One of the most important changes in the second edition of the game is an improved semi-cooperative mode. In Bloc by Bloc, each player has a secret agenda card. The majority of these cards are social agendas. Players with social agendas are in solidarity with each other and must work together to defeat the state and win the game cooperatively. However, there are also vanguardist and nihilist agenda cards. Players with these cards have to secretly undermine the social insurrection; they are playing to win the game alone.

It’s possible to remove the vanguardist and nihilist cards and play the game in fully cooperative mode. This is probably the best way to play your first game; it’s how most people chose to play the first edition. But that’s not the experience we originally set out to create with Bloc by Bloc. A simulation of urban insurrection should include the internal tensions that one always experiences within social movements and uprisings. This semi-cooperative experience also creates a more dynamic play space that allows for deeper strategy. And it prevents the problematic behavior of alpha players who dictate what other players should do on their turns. This tends to happen in almost all fully cooperative games. Ironically, by introducing an element of uncertainty and suspicion among players, you protect their individual agency.

A game of Bloc by Bloc in action.

Another mechanic in the game that people are often surprised by is how movement works. Most games force you to move your pieces one space at a time or to count the number of spaces you are able to move. In Bloc by Bloc, movement is restricted by access, not distance. If there is an open pathway using roads, highways, and metro stations, you can move your blocs as far as you want with one action. Even the largest cities in the world can still be crossed in a few hours as long as the corridors of movement are open. As the game deploys police and they move throughout the city, this access becomes increasingly restricted. This is a reflection of how we are able to move within contemporary cities. Zones of exclusivity and institutional power are not protected from popular uprisings by their distance from those who have the potential to rise up. They are protected by security forces and systems of control that limit access and control space.

Inside the Bloc by Bloc rulebook.

Just about every mechanic in Bloc by Bloc can be understood as the intersection between some kind of strategic lesson and the necessity of balancing the game to create a stable system full of emergent potential. It’s possible to read into each of these mechanics and draw conclusions about real world insurrections. But at some point, remember, this is just a game! A PDF of the Bloc by Bloc 2nd edition rulebook is available online for anyone interested in taking a closer look at the game’s mechanics.

—How do your values shape how you approach game design? Is there an ideological dimension to this project?

I try very hard to avoid taking a dogmatic approach to this work. Games are a great way of letting people explore interconnected ideas and systems without being overly didactic. However, I’m sure it’s apparent to everyone that this project is grounded in political ideas.

I would say that the game development process for Bloc by Bloc was guided by a specific ethical framework. A crucial part of that framework is that it centers those who struggle under capitalism, white supremacy, patriarchy, and the state as the protagonists. I refer to these protagonists of resistance as “social antagonists.” The blocs are those who organize themselves to rise up from below. This isn’t a game that places the conquerors or the powerful at the center of the narrative.

A still from the Bloc by Bloc 2nd edition trailer.

Another important element of this framework is an understanding of the importance of social insurrection. If we take a moment to reflect on the past two decades, we see an impressive array of uprisings and rebellions around the world. Social insurrection is a defining feature of our time. It is a crucial form of resistance and joy in a diverse array of cities in these first decades of the 21st century. Insurrections sustain social movements and they have reshaped the political map. But they also bring with them the potential for severe repression and reactionary backlash. So it’s important to not romanticize these moments of conflict and to understand their consequences.

It’s also important not to fetishize the violence involved in these uprisings. Destruction and popular expropriation are necessary parts of sustained insurrection. But the success of these uprisings is not determined by their ability to destroy or kill. Urban insurrection is most effective when it transforms social relationships across a whole city and repurposes urban space. We can see this most clearly when an insurrection is an expression of everyday resistance and organizing. This creates the social fabric from which an insurrection can draw the power to reshape entire cities and societies.

—Is this an anarchist game?

I think that’s debatable. Bloc by Bloc is a game for gamers more than it is a game for anarchists. We’ve always wanted this project to stand on its own as a game that people can enjoy even if they’re unfamiliar with or uneasy about the theme. As I said before, it’s an intervention in the world of gaming in that it challenges the usual narratives of oppression and exploitation.

There are a few other ways that it differs from most games. We have attempted to manufacture the game in a relatively ethical fashion here in the US. The vast majority of games are manufactured in China to take advantage of cheaper labor. And all of the files one needs to create DIY printed copies of Bloc by Bloc 2nd edition will be released online for free, as we did with the first edition. But overall, Bloc by Bloc doesn’t attempt to break out of the specific form set by the standards of contemporary tabletop gaming.

The question of what an anarchist game could look like is very interesting. Maybe Bloc by Bloc is a step in this direction. But a truly anarchist game would likely take place in the everyday terrain of our lives. It would craft a magic circle that empowers the participants to subvert real forms of control and domination. And it would be easily replicable, even for those with limited resources. Maybe anarchists and other social antagonists already play games of this sort all the time without specifically referring to them as games?

My hope is that this project can be part of a much larger creative process that utilizes play and imagination to unleash our collective potential to fight back and reshape the world.

All Power to the Blocs!


For more information on Bloc by Bloc, please visit the Kickstarter page for the 2nd edition.

For gamers’ perspectives on the themes of colonialism and domination in Settlers of Catan, check out:

For more on systems thinking in games, check out Rules of Play: Game Design Fundamentals. For more on the critique of cybernetics, watch Adam Curtis’s All Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace.

What non-anarchists are saying about the game.

CrimethInc. Tour in Sweden and Finland: From Democracy to Freedom & Resistance in the Age of Trump

This June, CrimethInc. operatives will be traveling throughout Sweden and Finland presenting on our book, From Democracy to Freedom, and comparing notes with Scandinavian anarchists, anti-fascists, and rebels about resistance to tyranny around the world. We will be visiting the book fairs in Stockholm and Malmö and nearly a dozen other towns. Please join us at one of these events!

If you are interested in hosting a CrimethInc. presentation in your town, university, or elsewhere, contact us: rollingthunder@crimethinc.com.

June 2: Stockholm Anarchist Book Fair, Sweden

We will be presenting on From Democracy to Freedom at Stockholm’s day-long Anarchist Book Fair alongside many other speakers and publishers.

Democracy is the most universal political ideal of our day. George Bush invoked it to justify invading Iraq; Obama congratulated the rebels of Tahrir Square for bringing it to Egypt; Occupy Wall Street claimed to have distilled its pure form. From the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea to the autonomous region of Rojava, practically every government and popular movement calls itself democratic.

And yet it was democracy that brought Donald Trump to power, not to mention Adolf Hitler.

What is democracy, precisely? How can we defend ourselves against democratically-elected tyrants? Is there a difference between government and self-determination, and are there other ways to describe what we are doing together when we make decisions? Drawing on From Democracy to Freedom, the latest book from the CrimethInc. collective, we will explore these questions and more. Join us for a lively discussion!


June 4: Turku, Finland

Anarchist Resistance in the Trump Era // Trumpin aikakauden aktivismi Yhdysvalloissa

7 pm, here.

How did Trump come to power, and what does his rise tell us about this era? What strategies are anarchists in the USA using to counter Trump’s agenda and the rise of grassroots nationalism?

Framing Trump’s Presidency in a global context, we will discuss the new conditions for social struggle and explore the approaches to self-organization and self-defense that anarchists have employed in the United States since the end of 2016.

Miten Trump pääsi valtaan ja mitä se kertoo aikakaudesta, johon olemme matkalla? Mitä strategioita anarkistit Yhdysvalloissa käyttävät torjuakseen Trumpin agendaa ja ruohonjuuritason nationalismin nousua? Pohdimme valtakautta globaalissa kontekstissa ja keskustelemme uusista olosuhteista yhteiskunnalliselle kamppailulle, sekä tutkailemme itseorganisoinnin ja itsepuolustuksen tapoja, joita anarkistit ovat Yhdysvalloissa hyödyntäneet vuodesta 2016 lähtien.

June 5: Helsinki, Finland

Anarchist Resistance in the Trump Era // Anarkistinen vastarinta Trumpin aikakaudella

6 pm, here

June 6: Tampere, Finland

From Democracy to Freedom

5 pm at Kirjastotalo Metso, Pirkankatu 2, 33210 Tampere, Finland

Demokratiasta vapauteen – Valtiovallan ja itsemääräämisoikeuden eroista

Demokratiasta on tullut aikamme universaalein poliittinen ideaali. George Bush vetosi siihen oikeuttaessaan hyökkäystä Irakiin, Obama onnitteli Tahrir aukion kapinallisia sen tuomisesta Egyptiin ja Occupy Wall Street julisti löytäneensä sen puhtaimman muodon.
Käytännössä jokainen hallitus ja kansanliike kutsuu itseään demokraattiseksi aina Pohjois Korean Demokraattisesta Kansantasavallasta Rojavan autonomiseen alueeseen.

Mutta mitä demokratia tarkkaan ottaen on? Onko olemassa jokin yhdistävä tekijä näiden erilaisten demokraattisuuden ilmausten välillä? Ja pystyykö yksikään niistä täyttämään lupauksensa? Tällä luennolla lähestytään demokratian käsitystä kriittisestä näkökulmasta, ja tarkastellaan kuinka demokraattiset diskurssit ovat palvelleet viimeaikaisia yhteiskunnallisia liikkeitä Yhdysvalloissa, Espanjassa, Kreikassa, Bosniassa, Sloveniassa ja muualla ympäri maailmaa. Luennolla pohditaan myös sitä, mitä tarkoittaisi, jos vapautta tavoiteltaisiin pikemmin suoraan kuin demokraattisen hallinnon kautta.

Luento pohjautuu Crimethincin kirjaan, joka on syntynyt vuosien kansainvälisen keskustelun tuloksena, jossa on ollut mukana eri yhteiskunnallisiin liikkeisiin ympäri maailman osallistuneita henkilöitä. Sen ytimessä on kysymys siitä, mitä me oikeastaan olemme tekemässä, kun teemme päätöksiä yhdessä.

Luennon kieli on englanti.

Aiheesta lisää Crimethincin sivuilla

Suomennettu kappale From Democracy To Freedom – kirjasta

Crimethincin demokratiakritiiksitä kiinnostuneet voivat myös lukea vanhemman suomennetun tekstin “Puoluejuhlat on ohi: Politiikan ja demokratian tuolle puolen

June 7: Oulu, Finland

Anarchist Resistance in the Trump Era // Anarkistinen vastarinta Trumpin aikakaudella

6 pm here hosted by Oulutopia

June 8: Boden and Luleå, Sweden

We will present on From Democracy to Freedom in Boden, then Resistance in the Trump Era in Luleå.

June 9: Umeå, Sweden

From Democracy to Freedom

June 10: Gävle, Sweden

From Democracy to Freedom

Joe Hill gården (Joe Hill’s childhood home)

June 11: Uppsala, Sweden

From Democracy to Freedom

June 13: Nyköping, Sweden

From Democracy to Freedom

Nyköpings LS av SAC

June 14: Gothenburg, Sweden

From Democracy to Freedom

Syndikalistiska Forum, Gothenburg

June 16-17: Malmö Anarchist Book Fair, Sweden

We will conclude with a presentation of From Democracy to Freedom at the Malmö Anarchist Book Fair.