HELL YES I think We Should Dox Nazis! Is That A Serious Question?

“Maybe one day all the old guys will die off and things will change, ‘cuz it’s officially getting scary over here in America.”
—Hank Williams III

From the moment I started writing I decided that, as long as I had a voice, I would say exactly what I wanted to.

I’ve written about magic, which has pissed off secular radicals. I’ve written about Egoism, which pissed off the Leftists. The largest publisher of Egoist material in turn hates my guts because I don’t think Egoists should waste their time hanging out by themselves and, weirdly enough, should be involved with others in the struggle for liberation.

I’ve also written about violence, my most recent piece going into tactical detail about some of the methods the Taliban has used to confront and defeat the United States military. I‘ve made the case that violent, or at least armed upheaval, is the only thing that puts enough fear into the Powers That Be to effectively get them to back down. I’ve advocated forming bases, getting involved with the community, and above all destroying those that would seek to harm us.

Doxxing Nazis, and other fascists, is absolutely one of the methods available to harm those that harm us. I support this tactic not only because I support whatever avenues for self-defense the people can muster, but also from a purely tactical standpoint it works.

Just How Many Tears Are Shed
By Some Little Word of Anger?

Doxxing has been in vogue on the Right for a long time, and nobody was quite as good as 4chan. 4chan, filled with lonely masturbating men calling each other cucks, had nothing but time on its hands.

Well, that and their dicks.

Channers would often spend all day online, and in doing so we’re able to pull of some astounding feats of intelligence gathering.

Consider Shia Lebouf’s “He Will Not Divide Us” Campaign, where 4channers wanted to remove a flag at an unknown location:

“…viewers used triangulation techniques based on planes seen in the stream to determine the general area. A local then began honking their horn repeatedly while driving in the area, which were picked up by the webcam’s microphone to further narrow the location. Finally, using star maps, 4chan users were able to identify the exact location of the flag on Google Maps…

On August 13th, 2017, the HeWillNotDivide.us stream was relaunched, featuring the flag placed against a white wall at an unknown location. That day, several threads about the livestream were created on 4chan’s /pol/ board, where many users began speculating that the flag was at the Serpentine Gallery in London, England based on an unverified direct message screenshot with Luke Turner.

That day, YouTuber H Drone uploaded a video titled ‘HWNDU Flag: London,’ chronicling how the flag was purportedly discovered at a different location in England by shining a blue light through a window and tracking reflections based on the movement of the sun throughout the day. The video has since been removed. Meanwhile, an image began circulating claiming that a blue light directed through the window of the house was visible on the wall during the livestream…”

This network is just one among many. One nazi in particular, going by the alias Jack “Pale Horse” Corbin, has been especially prolific in doxxing Anti-Racists and Anti-Fascists.

The leaking of this information is usually twofold in purpose: on one hand the hope is that some lone wolf will attack the person, or at least vandalize their property; to force the person’s political alignment into the public spotlight and, in result, create economic and safety issues for said person.

It’s not enough to be painted as Antifa. Most Far Right doxxers will aid false details, claiming the antifascists abuse children or are addicted to drugs. They may print out posters and put it around the person’s workplace in the hopes they get fired. They may call the police and hope the person gets investigated, or possibly even shot.

I know people, personally, who have had the last two happen. And there are plenty of others who have felt the anxiety and fear of having every digital footprint put out in the hopes it results in violence

For now I’ve been lucky, though that’s not to say folks haven’t tried.

The admin of the meme page Everything Is Pretty Bad has gone as far as to try to come up with a fake name to pressure me into revealing my own. He’s also attempted to hound and blackmail people sharing my articles to give up my personal facebook profile.

Hell they’ve even made attempts to derail any bit of organizing or reporting I got into, simply because they don’t like me, regardless of how it might affect people. Here’s his former co-admin from “Misanthropic Egoism:”

So I want to be clear: I know people who have been doxxed, there have been attempts to doxx me. This is a tactic that has harmed people I know and care for.

And I still think it’s an important tool for us to use.

Your Evil Heart Will Be Your Ruin

“‘I’m unplugged from politics,’ Parrott said. ‘I’m done. I’m out. I don’t want to be in The Washington Post anymore. I don’t care to have this humiliating and terrifying ordeal be more public than it already is. . . . There is no more Trad Worker.”
Former member of the Traditionalist Worker’s Party

There is absolutely no question that doxxing nazis, racists, and other foul human slime gets results that other organizing simply doesn’t. There is a reason the Klan wears hoods: vile deeds need darkness to be done. To be well-known is to destroy the ability to work in secret.

The Traditionalist Worker’s Party was one such far-right group absolutely devastated by the release of personal information and addresses. Since the first Unite The Right the entire Alt-Right has been hounded wherever they’re faces could be identified, effectively destroying their ability to organize.

A writer at the alt-right website Right Realist admitted as much in a piece called Why I was Wrong about the Alt-Right:

“Our enemies have seen the opportunity they needed to crush us without looking like the authoritarian monsters they are to the public at large. Nobody in the public is going to step up to defend ‘KKK, Nazi, white supremacists.'”

The Alt-Right depends on a public face and a private face. When those true feelings were exposed they lost all credibility and quickly found themselves the local pariah. Jack “Pale Horse” Corbin has been identified, down to his physical address. Prominent Neo-Nazis on twitter have dropped out of the movement when they merely been threatened with exposure.

Neo-Nazi Andrew Anglin agrees things aren’t looking good. The same asshole who gleefully directed Daily Stormer readers to hang nooses and intimidate a female black student is running scared. He has gone into hiding, and just recently made it clear doxxing by antifascists will “ruin the lives” of anyone treading in the same loathsome, piss-filled ideological pool he himself inhabits:

That’s called results. That’s called victory. A year ago the Charlottesville rally drew hundreds of open neo-nazis, one who felt so emboldened he fucking killed someone. This year it drew twenty. They admit it’s because they don’t feel safe.

They aren’t afraid of being assaulted or thrown in jail. They are afraid of being exposed. By doxxing.

And isn’t that what we want?

Take These Chains From My Heart
and
Set Me Free

Gods and Radicals is a collective, and writers are free to write whatever they wish. We have many diverse opinions and lord knows I’ve given plenty of headaches to the more…pacifistic of my fellow authors. Some have called for me to be fired. Just recently I had a fellow writer call me on the phone, telling me my most recent piece published there made them so uncomfortable they were worried about me.

So it goes.

Folks have written plenty I don’t agree with on Gods and Radicals. We are far, far from some monolithic force.

So let me be crystal clear: anyone who thinks doxxing isn’t working, who thinks this is a tactic the Left should surrender, is living in some alternate world I don’t understand.

The Far-Right isn’t going to stop doxxing us because we put on the kid gloves. You don’t win battles by backing away when your enemy beings to falter and weaken. The cops don’t care who these people are. They hire them!

“In the 2006 bulletin, the FBI detailed the threat of white nationalists and skinheads infiltrating police in order to disrupt investigations against fellow members and recruit other supremacists. The bulletin was released during a period of scandal for many law enforcement agencies throughout the country, including a neo-Nazi gang formed by members of the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department who harassed black and Latino communities. Similar investigations revealed officers and entire agencies with hate group ties in IllinoisOhio and Texas.”

So who exactly is going to bring fascists and their ilk to task if the police, and the courts that are ALWAYS friendly to them, refuse to act?

The goddamn Democrats?

“In a surprise appearance on SNL’s ‘Weekend Update: Summer Edition’ Thursday night, Fey urged Americans not to get into screaming matches with neo-Nazis. Instead, she said, ‘order a cake with the American flag on it … and just eat it.’”

It is often ONLY the tireless work of unnamed antifascists who expose and bring consequences to the monsters among us that brings tangible results.

Remember: the leaked conversations, the interviews, fascists are admitting that doxxing is destroying them. And it isn’t because we’re lying about them. The minute their actual beliefs are exposed, who they really are, the people usually find them repulsive.

Seriously, it’d be one thing if we’re having a conversation about Leftists attacking one another, or even people being misidentified. Fash-jacketing is a real thing, and the mob-mentality so often prevalent in the digital world can ruin people’s lives. We can even talk about the very problematic cheering of tech giants as they remove alt-righters—and then move on to leftist platforms like Telesur. Or how Facebook now requires leftists to register with extremely personal information to run ads in an effort to combat “fake news.”

Hell, I’ll even say we could talk about how some of the working people who voted for Trump are simply ignorant, and need to be reached out to.

Some.

But as for the out-and-out people talking about wiping out every face darker than a jar of mayonnaise?

Who gives a fuck?

Andrew Anglin could have his head removed with a chainsaw, moving from his groin towards his neck, finally culminating in total separation…and I wouldn’t care.

David Duke could be attacked by a pack of rabid dogs and spend the next four hours being slowly torn to pieces…and I wouldn’t shed a tear.

Jason Kessler could be on fire and I wouldn’t PISS on him to put him out. My laughter would mix with his shrill cries for water as his once solid frame melted into a pool of charred bone and liquid fat.

I’d sleep like a goddamn baby.

Let them suffer. Let them be afraid. These people want to kill us. If they had the chance, they would. They admit this and harass us at every opportunity with networks far outstripping our own. Why should we feel bad or even consider their feelings? Why is a tactic so clearly effective something we can’t use?

This isn’t some grand web of karma where the most advanced, peaceful people win by default. This is a rough, ruthless planet where baby animals get ripped open everyday, where innocent children get blown up and turned into smoldering goo.

Doxxing stops actual, real world violence before it starts because the enemy is afraid. Keep him afraid and he becomes paralyzed. Unable to act. Isn’t that what we want?

Are we combating fascism or are we in a conversation with it? If you find a moral issue with doxxing I’d love to hear what forms of combat you’d prefer instead.

And if you say voting I swear to god I will take off my pants and shit in your shoes.

Nobody else is going to stop these people. It is up to us. Doxxing works, doxxing will continue to work, and in an open war regarding personal information…we’d only be hurting ourselves by giving up our strongest weapon.

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The United States is Being Radicalized—And It Isn’t By Us

(Originally posted at Gods & Radicals)

Screenshot 2018-07-24 at 11.03.34 PM

As I write these words I am currently parked outside of an abandoned orange grove, the Kia serving as mobile press office and exploratory vehicle. Behind me are the rotting remains of generations of dreams. The packing house, a cross between factory and roadside orange grove stand, now lies in ruins, a shadow of its former self. The heavy machinery, the box labels marking grapefruit bound for Tokyo, even the sign that once hung above the building patiently wait inside, sure that one day that front door is going to open and business go back to normal.

IMG_20180720_173547

The place is haunted in a sense, though not by any dead folks as far as I could tell. I tip toe softly and hear buzzes, shouts, but they aren’t bouncing off the walls. I can see both the building as it was and as it is now: smiling customers mix with the caved in ceiling, two men argue over pay by the graffiti that says “Shit Chamber,” covered in dust; scattered everywhere are tags for holiday fruit once carefully attached to wooden crates..

In Japan a sword is believed to gain a soul after one hundred years. How about a building? Am I feeling its memories locked in the wood, the metal? Where else might this feeling of longing be coming from?

I crawl back outside, storm winds rolling in from the west. My mobile encampment lies hidden in the bushes, and with scarcely time to open a beer a monsoon washes over the area. In the back seat I stare watching, wondering of lives and futures that could have been.

Something has changed in the American power structure. There’s a revolutionary future out there in some quantum space that will never be ours again, as doomed as the building I’m parked beside. This isn’t the same country we were organizing in four years ago.

And I think we’ve taken a turn for the worst.

Read the rest here….

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Black Flags, Green Mountains, and Small Unit Tactics

I received an interesting email, one I’d like to share with all of you.

“Dr. Bones,

I’ve attached to this email a zine that is a work of fiction. the story involves a small crew of folks that ambush an INS transfer bus and free the detainees. I have no idea of where to send it, but it covers some basic fundamentals of small unit tactics carrying out armed praxis. It takes place in the near future, in which ICE has been supposedly abolished, but instead just morphed into an even more powerful state structure in the midst of extreme economic depression. 

….the zine has a study guide to assist folks in identifying key aspects, and is meant as a short group study. 

If magic can make reality, please enjoy.”

I’m not a military person but I’d be interested in getting one’s opinion on the text. The read is surprisingly good and the study guide at the end I find very interesting. The long and the short of it is this is a small text that any self-defense group would benefit from reading.

If anything it gets us thinking in new, tactical ways. One of the biggest dangers the Left currently faces is still playing by protest rules while our enemies are devising new ways to militarily overpower us.

Why don’t we deploy reserves at protests? Flanking movements? Why not ambush fighters after the big event? I’ve written about this before but it bears repeating.

Big thanks to those folks who sent me this, and hopefully they churn out more. Lord knows we need this kind of stuff.

Check it out here: Black Flags Green Mountains

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Rationality & Its Discontents: The Heart Zone, Narrative, & Folk Magic w/ Dr. Bones

“In this episode, I speak with Dr. Bones – conjurer, political theorist, and gonzo journalist. We discuss the irrational nature of human behavior, the narratives that direct human activity, folk magic, and the practicality of conjuring as a form of direct action.

I’ve come to know Dr. Bones primarily through his writings as a gonzo-journalist, whose work cuts to the core of America’s predatory capitalist economic system and the institutions and ideological frameworks that protect and perpetuate its logic. We discuss the ideologies that govern and direct human behavior, and dissect the myth that rationality and evidence guide human decision-making – in particular the delusional thinking many on the Left have regarding political theory and its practical application on the ground level. Many people, on both ends of the political spectrum, treat theoretical frameworks as ‘holy scripture’ – as inherently and self-evidently true, dogmatically so. We discuss why this form of thinking limits our understanding of political and social change – hindering our ability to effectively organize against the ideologies and institutions that seek to exploit human beings and the natural world we are invariably connected to.

In the latter half of this episode, I ask Bones to expound on a subject I know little about: magic, or to be more precise – the Hoodoo folk magic tradition Bones is steeped in. Bones defines himself as a conjurer, and I ask him to elaborate on what that means to him – to practice magic as he understands it to be. I personally am not well-versed in the subject (and I remain skeptical of it), but Bones delves into the topic with astounding clarity, upending many of my unexamined assumptions regarding the scope and limitations of human consciousness, as well as the practical and observable impact conjuring can have on the unfolding of events in day-to-day life. We also discuss how magic and it application fits into our understanding of political direct action, and how ‘the map is not the territory’ when it comes to understanding magic’s use as a tool to empower oneself in opposition to the forces that subjugate humanity for its own purposes. This is conversation covers territory I’m unaccustomed to exploring, and I appreciate and admire Dr. Bones’ take on the subjects discussed in this episode.”

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Toxic Prison Housing: How Trump’s Playground Treats Its Poor

(Originally posted at Gods & Radicals)

“‘You’re a storyteller. Dream up something wild and improbable,’ she pleaded. ‘Something beautiful and full of monsters.’

‘Beautiful and full of monsters?’

‘All the best stories are.”

― Laini Taylor, Strange the Dreamer

They say that slavery is over, that the days of big plantations are long gone. This is the New South, so the saying goes, and the past ain’t nothing but a bunch of statues in a park.

The same people will tell you a rising tide lifts all boats.

I seen somewhere where the tide doesn’t do anything but drag people out to sea.

Down here in Florida times may have changed but they sound much the same: rich folks living in luxury while people sweat in the cane fields, armed white men patrolling and killing whoever they wish. In fact I’d go so far as to say Florida still has one big plantation in operation, one gigantic blight upon on earthly paradise that ought to be cleansed with fire and high-grade ammunition.

That place is Palm Beach County. And in Palm Beach County a rebellion is beginning that could topple the whole damn plantation.

The following cannot do justice to what I saw, felt, heard, or smelled. This, if nothing else, will stand as a testament to future generations. Let us never forget as we move forward how the workers lived. Let us never let our indignation grow sour and meek. Let us never forget how people first started groping towards real world solutions, instead of mindlessly arguing over historical fantasies.

Stonybrook….

The word will one day mean two things.

Hope.

And revenge.

A Little History

I never planned on coming back to South Florida.

A ceremonial magician and devotee of Horus had contacted me about an investigation. He said there was big things brewing in Palm Beach County, real class war shit, and that I had to come cover them. Shadowy figures he’d dreamed of had called me by name and demanded my presence. He offered to hook me up with all the folks involved, house us overnight, and even to sacrifice a chicken for my protection.

Palm Beach County, you have to understand, is a vicious den of unending exploitation and lies. It’s merest mention often brings groans and cries of disgust from elsewhere around the state.

I know. I’m from there.

Born in Boynton Beach, I’d long ago forsaken my birthplace. Truthfully spoken justice might as well be a figment of imagination till the day comes when machine guns mounted on trucks roam Palm Beach County like wild boars, obliterating every mention of that wretched corner of the world.

The area that would become Palm Beach first appears on American radar back during the Seminole Wars. There, in the Battle of Jupiter Inlet, American colonial forces were resoundingly defeated by the freed slaves and indigenous peoples that made up the Seminole bands. Undeterred the Americans decided to convince the Seminoles they intended to give up the war, asking them to meet them under a flag of truce in exchange for the freedom to live as they wished. 600 Seminoles did just that.

They were immediately thrown in shackles, carted off to prison, and sent to the dusty wasteland of Oklahoma.

Skullduggery is built into the very fibre of Palm Beach County; even its name comes from a scam. The coconut palm, the specific palm in “Palm Beach”, is not native to Florida. Its presence in Palm Beach County is due to the shipwreck of the Spanish ship Providencia in 1878 near today’s Mar-a-Lago, a deliberate grounding to receive an insurance payout. Smallscale smuggling was the name of the game until a man named Henry Flagler came to town. He look one look at the people living in tropical paradise and just knew there was money to be made. He built the county into a playground for the Gilded Class.

The playground itself was a scam in a way: palaces like The Breakers or The Royal Poinciana Hotel became fashionable destinations for America’s uber-rich. Flagler’s railroad was the only way to get there. They paid him for the ride, paid him for the stay, and when they wanted a house it was Flagler that helped them out.

(The Royal Poinciana Hotel in 1900. Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Since then Palm Beach County’s golden rule has been a simple one: maintain the pipeline and do so quietly. Flagler ensured maximum comfort for his patrons by having his lieutenants kill and maim any workers that raised a fuss. Journalists that spoke unkindly disappeared. Labor disputes of any type were strictly forbidden and bodies were often buried beneath the rails.

Think about that: a giant cemetery guided the rich into Florida, and while they spilled wine and laughed they rode over the corpses of the poor.

Is it any wonder shit is so weird down here?

The Palm Beach Social Index-Directory, a yearly published, privately circulated little black book designed to separate the socially acceptable wealthy from the uncouth rich, keeps the circle of the ruling class small. Thirty of Palm Beach County’s residents are on the Forbe’s list of billionaires and they have no interest in being bothered. To this end they employ the police who have always understood themselves as servants of the rich.

Hunter S. Thompson, when he did a story in the region, perfectly captured the social contract between the The Well-to-Do and the Well-Armed:

“The police are no problem in Palm Beach. We own them and they know it. They work for us, like any other servant, and most of them seem to like it. When we run out of gas in this town, we call the police and they bring it, because it is boring to run out of gas. The rich have special problems, and running out of gas on Ocean Boulevard on the way to an orgy at six o’clock on Sunday morning is one of them. Nobody needs that. Not with naked women and huge bags of cocaine in the car. The rich love music, and we don’t want it interrupted…

We don’t pay these people much, but we pay them every week, and if they occasionally forget who really pays their salaries, we have ways of reminding them…”

The Police are eager to avoid such reminders, and when not running errands for their masters they have one mission: keep the poor in line. Cases like Jewett v. City of West Palm Beach Police Department (in custody police beating death), Lamore v. City of Riviera Beach Police Department (jury verdict determination of municipal liability), and Mueller v. Palm Beach County Sheriff’s Office (police beating injuries, conspiracy retaliation claims involving PBSO Internal Affairs Division) are stark reminders that the Flagler model is still in effect.

But that might be changing. In one of the worst neighborhoods, amid extreme segregation and implied violence, people were starting to fight back.

Out in Stonybrook the class war went from theory to tangible reality. My wife and I rushed down at ninety-five miles per hour, eager to bear witness.

Read more here…

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Egoism Vs. The Nazi Aztecs of Eco-Extremism

(This was originally a facebook post that was mass reported by meme pages like “Everything is Bad” and “Post-Left Rage,” as well as the fans of the “Anarchist” publisher Little Black Cart(who makes a living publishing eco-extremist as well as egoist texts). They wanted it off facebook and, essentially, for it to go unread.

True to my asshole nature, I not only published here but expanded it.

I invite you to read it and become aware of Eco-extremism, the journal Atassa, and what their “ideology” is. When you see people sharing their memes or talking about them, you’ll know what they really want to do)

Many of you have asked me “what is ITS” over the past few days. Today I’d like to talk about it because I think its important you know.

ITS stands for “Individualists Tending Towards the Wild.” It is a (supposed) group of people living in Mexico who started out, or at least claimed to, in the egoist/nihilist tradition of Anarchism. This made them heroic figures for many on the Post-Left side of thinking, reeling from the failures of the 1990’s and very much looking beyond Green Anarchism. ITS puts out communiques that are discussed and fawned over by a journal called Atassa. Atassa also shares copies of their communiques online. Atassa is published by Little Black Cart, the largest publisher of Egoist and Nihilist literature.

ITS operates strictly within the “anti-civilization” line of thought. One of the very odd things is they seem to worship “wildness” and despise “civilization.” Both of these are abstract concepts, symbols really, the very thing Stirner wrote an entire book denouncing. For ITS however they are the two gods at war for their very souls, the prime motivators of all history and all human endeavours. To fight back against “civilization” and preserve their wildness they engaged in bomb attacks against scientists in Mexico.

These attacks and their communiques became the bedrock of a new ideology: eco-extremism.

Eco-extremism combines the worst aspects of Nihilism and Green Anarchy. They very much believe in human nature, and consider all humans as unnatural creatures that must be destroyed to return to “wildness.” Again, if that sounds like a laughable religious position that’s because IT IS, yet ITS and Atassa(the only journal that publishes their screeds) believe they are nihilists who believe in nothing.

Except of course all humanity is bad, all technology is bad, and “wildness” is sacred. People must die, for reasons never really explained, and who dies doesn’t really matter. The pursuit of a return to “savage” nature is the sole goal.

This elevation of “savageness”(itself a very weird, fetishistic view of native cultures) has overridden any other desires. So eager to return to Holy “Wildness” the following piece was published by Atassa advocating a “savage kingdom” rather than anarcho-primitivism.

Let me read you a quote. Please recall the editors of Atassa considered this a turning point for eco-extremist theory” and a definite view to take forward. They are speaking of the very war-like, and almost Aztec-level hierarchical civilization known as The Calusa:

“It is a shame that they fell so shockingly short of the fully nomadic, immediate returns hunter-gatherer paradigm that is the apex of anarcho-primitivist sanctity, but we would hope that the priests of that ideology find it in their hearts to forgive them of their mortal sins of hierarchy and authority. . .

Eco-extremists may continue to draw their inspiration mostly from warlike
nomadic hunter-gatherers, but I would speculate that, given the choice between a Calusa ‘king’ obedient to his gods and nature, and a humanist green anarchist playing social engineer, they would choose the former as an ally…”

It may seem a shock that any Post-Leftist would speak joyously of royal hierarchy, that any Egoist would look upon unquestioned obedience to gods and “nature” as some glorious goal, yet Egoists and other Insurrectionists are told(by meme pages such as Everything is Bad and Post Left Rage) that these people are the most amazing thing to happen since Stirner himself. Eco-extremism, which places an undefined and abstract “nature” above the Unique, is in stark contrast to Egoism.

“Stirner himself, however, has no truck with ‘higher beings.’ Indeed, with the aim of concerning himself purely with his own interests, he attacks all ‘higher beings,’ regarding them as a variety of what he calls ‘spooks,’ or ideas to which individuals sacrifice themselves and by which they are dominated. First amongst these is the abstraction ‘Man’, into which all unique individuals are submerged and lost.”

In contrast to Stirner’s absolute rejection of any kind of authority, eco-extremists see nothing wrong with “natural” hierarchy or political institutions. In a text titled “Our response is like an earthquake: It comes sooner or later,” ITS writes:

“It’s true that ‘authority’ has existed in ancient ethnic groups before civilization, but it’s worth asking: Is the authority exercised by a leader of a Bushman tribe (for example), one that helps to feed them, something that is harmful? Is the authority of the Taromenane shaman, one which cures and alleviates illnesses in his band of wild humans, something harmful? Was the authority of the great Teochichimeca warriors, who were able to take revenge against the Spanish in their day, something harmful? If you say ‘yes’, you’re hopeless…” 

That communique was shared on Anarchist News, a website run by the nihilist who calls himself “Aragorn!” He also runs Little Black Cart, a nihilist/egoist publisher.

Again, even from a nihilist position, why should any one respect “natural” hierarchy any more than “presidential” or “military” hierarchy?

Interestingly enough most of these people live online. Beyond meme pages and this small, niche journal eco-extremism doesn’t exist. It’s the “egoist”(and I use that term in jest) version of 4chan. The only people who carry out any “eco-extremist” actions are ITS, whom Atassa and other Eco-extremists laud as heroes carrying out a war against technology and “civilization.”

What does this war look like? Let’s look to an actual ITS communique to find out.

In extreme misanthropic skepticism and experimentation, beyond any human notion, I claim nichilistically the following attacks:

-The arson of 2 mini buses transporting elder people.

Why? Why don’t you ask the guys from the books you read to tell you why? Oh shit! They’re dead? I’ll tell you why then! Because I hate old people! Hahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahhahahahahhahahahahahahaha!!!

-A package bomb left totally indiscriminately at a central location selectively.

Why do I not think of the ”innocent” people one might think… I answer with a question… Did my birth giver’s pussy think when it was fucked to be fertilized with microscopic semen that creates the vessels that I hate? Did anybody ask me to be born? Did anyone know what I would become? Do you know that some see consciousness as a curse? Fuck you, pathetic pricks, you don’t know shit then!”

Of course this is probably just bullshit. Let’s assume these attacks, which again may not even exist, are actually real.

This isn’t a “war against civilization,” it’s just a bunch of assholes “killing” people. Atassa and meme pages like Everything is Bad or Post Left Rage eat them up.

Atassa and the meme pages that celebrate them are basically just cheering on the death of random working people. Not rich people, not even the technology-researching scientists they claim to hate. Just random people. Eco-extremists claim this is due to their “misanthropy” which is somehow very different from Fascist hatred. After all, like the old Hot Topic t-shirt says “I don’t hate any one race, I hate them all!”

“All that surrounds me, every ‘normal’ humanoid, is performing a litany towards crushing determinism. One more time I seize the opportunity to act and unleash My Hatred. I get ready not to stray from the mechanistic ‘life-form’. I call upon Death and we enter in a maelstrom of the heartbeat of Chaos that transforms blood into a pumping engine in the libido of voidance that dissolves humanity attempting indiscriminate Destruction and Murder.”

Compare this to Stirner’s response when asked if Egoism should inspire people to misanthropy:

“…that would be a man who does not know and cannot appreciate any of the delights emanating from an interest taken in others, from the consideration shown to others. That would be a man bereft of innumerable pleasures, a wretched character . . . would he not be a wretched egoist, rather than a genuine Egoist? . . . The person who loves a human being is, by virtue of that love, a wealthier man that someone else who loves no one.”

If you criticize these practices Eco-extremists default to a Jordan Peterson-esque line of thinking: if you criticize them you are a “moralist” and misunderstand what they’re saying. If you criticize ITS, Atassa claims they are just one aspect of eco-extremism and that they don’t speak for everybody. They also claim that you haven’t “read enough.” And, if you get that far, they moan about how you’re “moralizing” or that somehow drinking a pepsi is the same thing as blowing up a bus of old people.

(Postscript: this is exactly what happened after publishing this material)

Go ahead and read that Calusa essay. I invite you to read anything else Atassa publishes. Recall, whether they support them or not, Atassa routinely publishes ITS communiques they believe to be real; recall also meme pages like Everything is Bad and Post Left Rage as well as Atassa freely admit ITS is the only one carrying out the eco-extremist mission.

Other insurrectionist cells across Mexico, ones who might rightly be claimed as Egoist in structure and methodology, want nothing to do with ITS or eco-extremism; they see in the sad behavior dressed up as ideology nothing more than the industrial society eco-extremists claim to be free from:

“That is the case of these disastrous ones. Axiomatic fruit of this pitiful civilization that they say they want to destroy. Only in the deepest entrails of this decay can such decaying behaviors manifest themselves. It is in the sewers of this society where these pathologies are nourished and the most delirious fascistoid rhetoric takes shape. That is where these deformations are formed and the irrepressible protagonistic anxieties throw them at the reflectors.

Its roots are none other than the nauseous dung of social dysfunction. After a sad childhood and a frustrated adolescence, harassed by bullying from the cradle and traumatised from their family, they begin to channel their frustrations and all the accumulated self-hatred and project it without ethical mediations. That is the Individualists Tending toward the Wild. His misogynist discourse and his authoritarian actions are the result.”

You can’t call them eco-fascists however! Oh no! Totally different! Why would they be featured by an anarchist publisher and by Anarchist News?

Says one apologist:

“In what sense do they resemble the fascism of Mussolini or Nazism? Fascism is a statist, nationalist, and (ultimately) pro-civ ideology – none of these labels apply to eco-extremists…their ideology is essentially all about continuity with pre/anti-colonial savagery of the indigenous warriors.”

The fans of Atassa, and by extension their publishers, prefer to ignore when Atassa compared themselves favorably to fascists, gleefully advocated genocide, and called people “degenerates.” I have trouble remembering the Aztecs complaining about degenerates. I seem to remember somebody in the 1930’s talking about it alot. Here’s the screenshots:

Of course they’ll tell you that post was a “mistake,” someone running the page yet having nothing to do with the journal. You still can’t call them eco-fascists. They’re totally different. They might advocate the same things but somehow they having nothing to do fascism.

Sure. Just look at the latest Atassa journal cover:

Atassa, meme pages like Everything is Bad and Post Left Rage, and increasingly the “Anarchist” website called Anarchist News are uplifting one of the most garbage ideologies I have ever had the misfortune of learning about. The idea that they are essentially trying to ship a green “nihilism” that worships “wildness” and advocates genocide into Egoism, an idea that posits human uniqueness as the most liberating concept, is a goddamn shame. There is nothing Egoist about Atassa, Eco-extremism, and by extension the meme pages that fawn over them.

But they sure do love to pull in as many Egoists as possible to buy their shit.

Egoism is changing. It isn’t 1995 anymore and Wolfi’s old ideas about making everything “play” and running off into the woods aren’t cutting it. Egoism is confronting a world where most Unique Ones can’t afford healthcare, don’t own any property, and have almost no time to develop their unique and individual selves. For some people the path to liberation involves seizing territory, enriching their lives, and destroying the forces that would seek to turn them into to a socially-obedient slave. Those people are Egoist-Communists.

For some people liberation involves leaving everything the way it is and cheering on a semi-fictitious band of assholes in Mexico who claim to kill random old people and women.

Those people aren’t Egoists. They’re eco-extremists and are fit only to be pissed on whenever possible.

Have a great night.

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“It’s Going To Be A Long, Hot, Deadly Summer.”

(Originally posted at Gods & Radicals)

“It’s going to be a long, hot, deadly summer.”

As the moon rises above the palm trees loud grunts of a pig frog break up the otherwise secret meeting. The shifting eyes move along with hushed tones under oak trees and spanish moss. Cicadas sing loud enough to muffle the voices. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. The occasional car goes by and the shadows sweat in the darkness, talking of magic and insurrection.

“These people are under a spell, that’s what makes me nervous. First they claim nobody is being separated at the border.” The new voice coughed then continued. “Trump then says they are being separated but that it’s actually Obama’s program. Republicans then argue that things aren’t that bad, that there’s nothing to fix. Trump does a 180, claims the separations are bad, and decides he’ll keep families together–provided he can detain them indefinitely.”

“There’s a very weird game being played here.” Another voice lights a cigarette, the red dot looking like a rolling eye. She clicks her teeth and adjusts her hat. “Intentionally false statements are being made then they pretty much wait to see if people will believe it. And they do. We’re talking about a good chunk of the country just believing anything, defending anything, as long as it comes from the halls of power. That’s not going away. So where does it go instead? What does it do?”

“We know where it goes.” The shadowed heads bob along. Lines of sweat trace raised and pointed eyebrows in this abandoned lot serving as church, temple, and school. Someone spits on the ground and picks up where another left off.

“History is a story, see? When we tell a story we already know the ending so we get confused. We begin to think the people in the story are aware of the ending like we are. Nuh-uh. This species has chronic amnesia. A Wizard’s gift is to see the lines of probability and chance moving the dice rolls, shifting the cards. The natural world has ‘tells’ like any other gambler. It’s our job to study those and bring them into our radicalism.”

There were grunts of agreement as a small wind rubbed palmetto branches together. The speaker slapped a mosquito and carried on. You want to know what’s coming? What Anarchists need to worry about? I’ll tell you exactly what’s going to happen between June 27th and August 27th, but I want to tell you a story first. Keep it in mind because I sure as shit know it changed the way I think about my own sense of agency…”

Read the rest here….

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Is The Revolution Your Religion?

(Originally Posted at Gods & Radicals)

“The mass of ordinary Germans did know about the evolving terror of Hitler’s Holocaust, according to a new research study. They knew concentration camps were full of Jewish people who were stigmatised as sub-human and race-defilers. They knew that these, like other groups and minorities, were being killed out of hand.

They knew that Adolf Hitler had repeatedly forecast the extermination of every Jew on German soil. They knew these details because they had read about them.”
–John Ezard

“Tell me, Tarrou, are you capable of dying for love?’

‘I couldn’t say, but I hardly think so–as I am now.’

‘You see. But you’re capable of dying for an idea; one can see that right away. Well, personally, I’ve seen enough of people who die for an idea. I don’t believe in heroism; I know it’s easy and I’ve learned it can be murderous. What interests me is living and dying for what one loves.’”
—Albert Camus, The Plague

MOSHED-2018-6-13-20-4-17

On January 14th Gregory Vaughn Hill Jr. was in mortal danger. He didn’t know it of course, couldn’t sense the odds and probabilities stacking against him. He may have never glimpsed his ancestors draw closer or the slow chill of Death creep across the floor. He was in his home, totally at ease and listening to music. How could he have known from this moment on he had no future?

As I sit under the Florida sun and stretch out on tourist-free sands I can’t help but think about Gregory. Was he relaxing as I am? What did he think of his neighbors? If “justice” finally came after 500 years would it mean anything to a man stolen forever from his children?

It’s 98 degrees and Floridians are heading towards water. My wife and I are at a beach so hidden I dare not speak its name, an undisturbed stretch of the legendary A1A. Most folks drive past it, seeing nothing but sea grapes and palmettos. That’s part of the appeal. On top of that the nearest gas station cooks chicken gizzards and homemade empanadas. You can score a six-pack of Landshark there for $4.99. There are no hotels and public drunkeness is a way of life.

Cheap booze. Beautiful views. Nature in abundance and a carefree attitude that flies in the face of the nine-to-five. For a moment the world drips away. We forget anything else exists.

But on the horizon the world waits, among the clouds slowly rolling in. For Gregory it knocked right on his door.

We’re All In This Together

Gregory was on disability leave from a Coca-Cola warehouse. He probably figured if he wasn’t going to be working he might as well enjoy himself. He turned on some music, had a few drinks, and relaxed in the small sliver of paradise he’d carved out for his self and his family.

Gregory has a fiancee, Monique Davis. They have three children together.

There is a knock at the door. Innocuous. Gregory doesn’t know it but somebody from the school across the street has called in a noise complaint. Gregory goes to the garage door, where the sound is coming from, and opens it to see who it is.

It’s the police.

Gregory closes the door. He may have wanted to grab his wallet, change his clothes. Maybe turn down the music. The police, after all, were responding to a noise complaint.

He didn’t realize he’d committed a grave error: even alone, inside your own home, it is a fatal condition to be black in America. At this moment, though he never knew it, there was no future for Gregory.

Christopher Newman, a white Florida sheriff’s deputy, shot him three times through that door. This killed him. Every dream, every hope, every project that Gregory put off was lost like rain puddles under the Florida sun. Officer Newman would claim Gregory pointed a gun at him. A gun was indeed found on Newman.

Unloaded. In his back pocket.

Odd thing for a dead man, falling back from being shot, to have the muscle memory to unload his gun and tuck it safely in his back pocket. Even odder the placement–no gun owner carries a pistol in their back pocket. You can’t draw it worth a damn in that position. Why would you sit on your gun anyway?

We know Gregory was executed for no reason. We know the cops maintain a system of white supremacy and brutal exploitation. This isn’t a story about a Black man being lynched by the police. That is as common as swimsuits at Cocoa Beach. This is a story about what came after, when “the people” have to decide if he deserved to die.

Four years ago a grand jury declined to indict Officer Newman, the usual response. Grand juries, often made up of the same “revolutionary” class destined to overthrow capitalism, frequently decline to indict law-enforcement officials who kill their fellow workers.

Gregory’s mother filed a wrongful death lawsuit against Newman and his boss, St. Lucie County Sheriff Ken Mascara. The hope was if “the people” weren’t willing to put a cop in prison for murder, perhaps they were at least willing to provide a small amount of resources for his widow and children. This wouldn’t harm officer Newman or the Sheriff at all: research from Joanna Schwartz of UCLA Law School found that governments, not individual officers, paid 99.98 percent of damages in the case of wrongful death.

The case finally came to a close just recently. The jury deliberated for 10 hours.

Read the rest here…

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It Is Impossible To Be “Anti-War”

(Originally posted at Gods & Radicals)

“I do not weep at the world–I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife.”
– Zora Neale Hurston

“What is a rebel? A man who says no, but whose refusal does not imply a renunciation. He is also a man who says yes, from the moment he makes his first gesture of rebellion.”
– Albert Camus, The Rebel

“I go over my own escape routes all the time. To survive in this state, you have to think like the French Resistance.”
― Tim Dorsey, writing about Florida in The Stingray Shuffle

Everybody pretends this is Florida in the 30’s, the 50’s, the 80’s. Nobody wants to stare into the ugly mess we’ve become or the horrible future that lies ahead. This isn’t a question of philosophy or ethics but a fundamental problem of perception that leaks into everything. Take foreign policy: if we don’t change something quick we’ll be left behind as the planet descends into the fourth layer of robot hell.

I am parked underneath a causeway, the rhythmic beat of tires against concrete echoing across the Kia which now serves as a small cabin. Pillow behind my back and stretched in the back seat, I’m typing away as I think about how many days we could camp here. The car, as always, is kitted out for misadventure: camping stove, mosquito net, hammock, table, cooking gear, and a host of supplies as well as enough beer to enjoy them.

signal-2018-05-21-205523

We weren’t in the woods. Florida’s Scenic Highway is our preferred hunting ground, a stretch of road riding up from the Keys all the way to the demilitarized zone bordering Georgia. Beside the pavement we travel is a constantly changing landscape: mangrove swamps and dilapidated motels, the Indian River and stark naked ocean, abandoned orange groves and mutated beach communities where palm trees once towered above the buildings.

Those in particular always seem dumbstruck, confused at how big they’d gotten. Rather than change they hold on to a memory, selling the illusion that everything is the same. Condos litter the shore, the mom-and pop’s have been shut down by Walmart, hell you can’t even buy fresh squeezed orange juice on the side of the road anymore.

So be it. We live and play in the here and now. The spirits of this land still speak to me, still run strong.

As the reassuring stink of low-tide hits my nostrils I laugh at the anxiety of comrades about the future. Will we invade Iran? Will we attack North Korea? And if we do…what then? The anxiety spills out to performative gestures: filters for profile pictures, memes, and the occasional street rally.

But what does that do?

The answer usually given is those in power will become aware that we, the “people,” will not stand idly by as they slaughter millions. That our rage has consequences. Politicians that want to get elected will heed the will of the people. We will go to the polls.

But what if the polls no longer matter?

We talk about war like its something that rolls out, like a rug. That it requires mobilization. That at any point the people, given just enough information and just enough voice, could stop the train and end it. We picture presidents and cabinet members rubbing their hands, hoping the voters stay quiet. We like to think we have that power.

That our emotions alone, our indignation, might set the world aright.

The truth is being “anti-war” is the same as being “anti-space” on the Space Coast. You might believe humanity nothing more than a pack of locusts, you might truly think the export of capitalism beyond our atmosphere will be nothing more than ejaculating the most foul, diseased, and fetid load onto the most pristine face we’ve ever encountered, but at the end of the day you long ago lost the ability to do anything about it.

Read the rest here…

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If Leftists Follow The Tampa Model We Might Actually Have a Chance

(Originally posted at Gods & Radicals)

“So then an egoist could never embrace a party or take up with a party? Oh, yes, only he cannot let himself be embraced and taken up by the party. For him the party remains all the time nothing but a gathering: he is one of the party, he takes part.”
– Max Stirner, The Ego and Its Own

“But this force does not appear spontaneously: it must be transmitted. All objects, beings, or consecrated places exist only through the acquisition of (ashe). It is understood that the Ile, it material contents and initiates must receive (ashe), accumulate it, maintain it, and develop it…

To receive (ashe) means to incorporate the symbolic elements that represent the vital and essential principles of all that which exists, in a particular combination that individualizes and permits a determined signification. It is an endeavor to incorporate all that which constitutes the aiye and the orun, this world and the world beyond…”
– Juana Elebein Dos Santos, Os Nago e a Morte. Translated by Medahochi Kofi Zannu

Spend approximately 2.5 minutes on the internet and it will become clear to you: the Left can be the most toxic, hate-filled “community” you’ve ever had the misfortune to experience. Outright lies and willful ignorance abound, and right behind them are usually threats of violence and mass murder. Communists will get the bullet, Anarchists go straight to gulag; the Left often has a lot more in common with warring wings of the Latin Kings, Bloods, Bandidos, and Crips.

Except of course all those organizations are actually feared. They also actually do things, often violent things, and are quite capable of returning on any threat to even a score. They have power and control territories that run across multiple states.

I knew of no leftist organization that could match the tenacity, strength, and cunning of the average street gang. That wasn’t the point. I drove 180 miles into the heart of Tampa Bay to see whether or not the Left was capable of doing anything besides shitpost.

It was May Day, the holiest of days for hearts both black and red. I cracked open another beer, gulping down the frothy brew as I did eighty in a forty-five, reaching for my voice recorder.

“The event has been put on by traditional unions, Maoists, Marxist-Leninists, Wobblies, and the local DSA chapter. It is a perfect laboratory, a window, into the disparate wash of various strains of Leftism. I am unsure of what to expect.” I paused for a moment, watching the trailers and cattle zoom by, as much as piece of the landscape as the acres of oaks, pines, and palms. “The event could be a total wash, an abject failure; it could kick off a riot and potentially get me killed; it could be nothing more than one big hugging match where everybody feels good and goes home as if they’ve actually accomplished something when in reality nothing’s changed.”

Shadowy tendrils began to capture my tone. “Whatever it is…whatever I see out in Tampa today will be of great significance. If anything will happen in Florida, maybe the country….if ever there was an ideal setting for this kind of thing, this is the place. If today comes to nothing?”

I rolled down my window and turned up the cumbía. The thumbing tropical beat brought a grin from ear to ear. I set down the empty beer can and reached for another.

“Then…there is no hope. And at that point it won’t really have mattered anyway, would it?”

Cigar City

yep

The assignment started with a simple message. In my inbox, from a name and face I did not recognize, was an invitation:

“Yo are you doing anything for May Day? We’re planning to have a huge-ass event in Tampa and are trying to get leftists from around the state to show up. It’s gonna be militant as fuck.”

I was intrigued. Truthfully I had no plans of my own and had been wondering what exactly I was going to do for May Day. There was no leftist presence where I was, not even an inkling; I knew if I wanted to see real human beings even vaguely challenge the ruling order I’d need to put many miles under my feet.

The location seemed ideal. I had roots in the city and kin buried out that way, having spent the most poverty-stricken years of my youth in nearby New Port Richey. I knew Tampa was big enough to probably draw a crowd and remembered an energy there uniquely suited for revolutionary politics.

Everything in Florida cities revolves around money: Tallahassee is all about borrowing it, Miami is all about spending it, Orlando is all about taking it, and Tampa?

Tampa has always been about making it.

From the late 1880’s all the way to the 1930’s cigar manufacturing completely dominated the local economy, hundreds of firms fighting tooth and claw to outproduce and outmaneuver each other. A proudly immigrant city, Tampa also boasted its own division of the Italian Mafia, and had a stranglehold on every racket, hustle, and scam from Havana to New Orleans.  The Tampa Bay mob became notorious early on for a peculiar method of making a point to anyone that stood in the way of profit: a shotgun blast directly to the face, done in broad daylight and right in the street. The violence may be gone, but the killer instinct familiar to hustlers everywhere still survives: Tampa has gone from from cigars and bolita rackets to become the industrial, commercial, and financial hub of Florida’s entire west coast.

Electronics, medical equipment, beer, paint, steel, fertilizer, citrus products, livestock, processed shrimp, all roll through Tampa and its eighteen lines of railway. The port of Tampa handles 50 million tons of cargo every year and, thanks to its status as a “foreign trade zone,” goods can be unloaded for repacking, storage, or transshipment without being hit with additional taxes.

In a state dependent on cattle and tourism, Tampa alone had taken the Capitalist model and ran with it.

That naturally creates problems.

In the Tampa Bay area a black third-grader is half as likely as a white counterpart to read on grade level. Just a few years ago it had the nation’s highest homelessness rate. Tampa, along with Miami, is in the top ten every year for the prized position of highest income inequality in America.

Money, power, corruption, violence. Tampa was the real deal, a quiet powerhouse of global trade long reliant on a dispossessed and oppressed population. No matter what happened I’d at least get a good story out of it.

I just needed to cross the dangerous and uniquely odd territory known as the Floridian interior first.

The Sunny Place for Shady People

Moving-to-Tampa

I lived on the eastern side of the peninsula, and mere miles outside my town lay a vast and unforgiving wilderness. Danger. Death. Dismemberment. Towns long since dropped off maps and shambling, inbred creatures. Concrete castles and roads where cars rolled uphill. A trip through the Florida interior could bring one or all of these things.

Tampa was going to be easy. I could expect electricity, antibiotics, even basic literacy. Even if there was a riot, even if I got arrested, I was fairly certain I wouldn’t get cancer from the water.

No such guarantees exist in the interior. Perhaps that’s what gave Tampa a better revolutionary chance. The rest of Florida was simply too wild, too cutthroat, and too focused on eating one another to give a damn.

After packing up the essentials I hit the road…

(Read the rest here)

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