Thursday, September 10, 2015

touchy topics

Those of us that are tired of the identity politics game tend to suppose that its easy peasy to distance oneself from purported behavior. But this is experientially false because people tend to impose structures onto us, assuming that since one is white, one is racist, for instance; or that since one identifies as male, one is sexist. And if not actually so, more than likely potentially so. Two problems already arise: what does it mean to be white? and what does it mean to be racist? One way of painting the (performative) picture in today's world is to note that the all-amerikkkan family is quintessentially white and quintessentially racist given a general failure to understand the way the world works, how wealth accrues through exploitation, theft of preliminary capital, etc., and that the defense of these values and actualities produces borders, and a keeping out those that have had their lives stolen for the possibility of being performatively white. Built into this concept of being performatively white is being-heteronormative, or what's the same, being reproductive of the same (shitty, one dimensional) future. The domestic family is a machine of a larger machine, named Gender in Baeden 2, that produces the experience of alienation, distancing the other, even to the point of dejection, among a whole host of other divisive features--but most importantly--the separation of self from oneself through capture and recombination.

The entire apparatus of privilege theory functions in a similar way; that is to say, functions to distance oneself from oneself by way of capturing bodies into its functional (socialist) future. The only question then is how it is that the desired world, the utopia of a completed revolution, fails to look like the world that we hate? If domestication keeps us in place, what of the world that would do the same, and yet, nevertheless, call itself transformatively radical? 

Ask yourself: is privilege good or bad? If it is bad--say, because it is predicated on a wholesale dismissal of non-humyn peoples, or because it fails to have a healthy relationship with the land (gelassenheit)--why should one that has it, give it away, rather than destroy it? Because it will always be projected? And if it is meant to be shared because it is only bad in its form, and yet good, if equalized, how can we overlook the privileging of the humyn, the production of Agamben's anthropological machine? (Agamben says that whenever a distinction is posited between humyns and animals, it follows that those that do not fit (rectudio) become excess to be destroyed, like those animals that fall under the privative term and are, as such, destroyed. Here, it's easy to paint the picture: those that do not work, those that cannot, those that hate the white bread of the state (hell); these are so many failures of futures that suck. And yet, even as failures, these are still captured by privilege.) So, through all this we have to ask ourselves always: Is privilege good or bad? And if we say always, without question and equivocation, bad, it will always be obvious that those that would make us do something with it, fail to understand what they are talking about.

Perhaps a vanguardist temporary state is necessary to force the state to "wither away"; and so, mutadis mutandis, privilege must be adopted ironically, until it withers away--until it is meaningless. But I thought that was what we are doing when we render our bodies uncaptured, monstrous? Perhaps privilege association is always a lacking in reference when it comes to us. And this is the ultimate root about why we think identity politics is forever insufficiently anti-politics.

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

Exploring Passive Nihilism

Ive been reading Christian Anarchism lately and I'm troubled by the linchpin word 'non-violence', and, in particular, how this term means in the milieu.
Of course, sorting the term in a subsequent way produces differences. But what if one doesn't accept ones' sorting?


Some Quakers suppose that property damage, like fires and shit, falls square within the orbit of non-violence. And so it would seem that the difference is not clearly given by the state; nor is it therefore a simple matter of acceptance, a willingness to abide. Nor is it therefore enough to read Gene Sharp's (Otherwise excellent) writings on non-violence to get clear on the term.
Nope: doing violence in the milieu, isn't cut and dry, friends; and with Quakers making the intuitive point that you can't hurt property (even if scumbags find themselves in their stuff), the problem is only made explicit.

If then anarchism wants to distance itself from one small aspect of nihilism (assassinations), then this distancing completely demolishes any a priori, theoretical effort to untangle the terms. Is an anarchism sans assassination non-violent? We want to say no because we don't want to be seen as pacifists; but can we say no?


Oh you shitty Christian Anarchists; you bastards that turn againstness away from non-action into action of a curious sort; you bastards that confuse the difference between pacifist and passive-ists; how can we still say we aren't Christian anarchists; how can we claim that we are not non-violent, against douchey liberals, when "pacifist action" is taken up in opposition to passivity, when these pacifists without passivity produce violence as a well defined term that we can support?

On this reading, the orbit of permissible pacifist actions doesn't reduce to non-action, to bearing witness, to doing nothing. Until anarchists define what they mean by violence, thereby making explicit their differences, it would seem that they confuse the whole (non-violence) for a part (non-action).


Tuesday, July 28, 2015


One more word, to be dissected and discussed—if adequately labeled a “margarine word”—is Solidarity (A de A, The Impossible, Patience). Notes from dissecting this word stem from a discussion held in "Hamilton", on July 14th, 2015. If there are conversations missing from this account, or if it sucks, please do not hesitate to critique everything.

1. One might argue thus:

Material solidarity is distinct from lip-service.

Therefore, it is not enough to say one is in solidarity; one must show it.

Some say this latter term “lip-service” functions rhetorically as if one were to distinguish rhetoric from that which has “substance”, words from deeds, the game from the politico-aesthetic.

We prefer genuine solidarity and fake solidarity to mark the difference that is meant, and will go about the matter in this way. But problems arise almost immediately. First, when we say we are in solidarity with Marius, whether we are carrying out an action, the question of whether Marius is in solidarity with us isn’t addressed. It might be the case that he would be in solidarity with us, would he have but known us by what we do.

So perhaps the function of support, material support, visiting, paying for, helping, writing to, whatever, constitutes the prior possibility of the subsequent reality of Marius being in solidarity with us. But isn’t support just solidarity?

One point here is that solidarity is a two way street; it is not enough to say that one is in solidarity; it takes symmetry to undermine asymmetry for the adequacy of the relationship “solidarity”. The one with whom we are in solidarity must accept the gesture!

There is a nest of terms that we utilize to describe the term solidarity that means something (and remember here we are saying, if there is prior support): empathy, allyship, affinity, and complicitity.

Sometimes, in a rather disgusting way, we use the term empathize, as if to suppose (or pretend) we have crossed over into material identity. We try to identify. Obviously, putting oneself in anothers’ shoes is impossible, given contextual differences, to say nothing of differences in identity.—We have fake solidarity here, a pretending to be solid. 

Allyship strikes me as the most honest account, an account of having different interests too, a sense in which doesn’t try to identify, but rather moves towards being solid, perhaps hoping to be supportive, without supposing that one has become identical. The other has to be supported by me, in a direct way, for me to say, nontrivially, that I am in solidarity with them. Of course, not everyone would take ‘allyship’ in this direction. For those of us that do, perhaps we ironically use the term ‘allyship’. I want to note that 'allies' includes the prior implication that one has independent interests. And this is perhaps the reason that affinity and allyship are sometimes seen as synonymous.

Affinity, on the other hand, seems to be willingness to act in tandem with the tendency, or whatever, because ones’ heart is in it; yet this is an individualist implication; that one acts from one’s self. The question of affinity, I want to say, is not so much whether we are willing to be in solidarity with someone else, but rather, that the other must be in solidarity with our motives, first, before we are willing to say we want to be solid with them.

It seems almost too obvious to note that ‘allyship’ is an asymmetrical relationship. We gift our agency to the other. Affinity is reactionary to this, a reclaiming of genuine agency, or perhaps it is a function of parachuting purposes, feigned solidarity, a nihilist maskwearer. Perhaps under the last category we can discern a better sense for allyship, for here too we have a gesture of failing identification, one that avoids empathy and pity. Genuine affinity certainly comes from real mutual support. Perhaps allyship in its best sense presupposes mutual support too.

2. I want to say something about being solid with oneself. Which other? My future self. The self is a community of peoples, future selves and past selves aiming for coherency, perhaps; for just as there is no unanimous community, (with whom to be solid), there is no prior self to whom we (ourselves) are accountable. Yet, despite all this, despite that point that there are rarely unities of agreement across whole swaths of individuals—and perhaps exactly for this reason—we affirm a unity of disunities, one that is in opposition to the unifying feature of alienation. How? By way of practicing becoming solid. For instance, by becoming solid because I’m in it, not because I feel I must be, because I feel guilt—or worse, because I haven’t yet exorcised constitutive structuralist liberal demons, that fitting (however poorly) some intersectional analyis auto-obligates me into allyship. No! As individuals invested in our own freedom, we want affinity and complicity to define allyship, and affinity and complicity to blot out passive nihilism. Because, in these moments of irascible human being, of blemmyes, we find our solidities, our solidarities. It is precisely because we are untied in possibility, that we must bind ourselves, yet only if it comes from us, from below, from our own coeurage. For here we are in it; for here our hearts have achieved coeu(rage). That is, we sense the conspiring others; we are in touch with how they feel, their backgrounds; we have invested our hearts into knowing them; we sense their capacity to be in solidarity with us, and we give ourselves to becoming solid with them and ourselves. Of course finding others is more difficult than finding oneself; yet finding the capacity to be solid with oneself is difficult too, given that nothing coerces. In the least, if I cannot say that I would be willing to be had, as I have the other, perhaps I have no right to claim solidarity. And if I am not willing to say that I can have myself, or that I have myself, I have no right to call myself solid. And if I can't call myself solid, if folks know I'm not, what could it mean for me to say that "Im in solidarity with X"?

Monday, July 20, 2015

Being had

There is a difference between active nihilists with commitments, and cruel nihilists that we name as cruel, to oppose them in order to provide matter for our targeted againstness. (Depending on how well we hide these acts, we remain untargeted by their againstness). Whether active or cruel nihilist, then, one has commitments; the passive nihilist, on the other hand, is indifferent to commitments, it would seem. From this distinction it is often presumed that everyday people, because they are apolitical, they therefore do not have commitments. But everyone has commitments, in the least, they are committed to their survival, unless, of course, they are death drivers, in the sense of desiring death. Commitment then carries with it a morality, good and bad. And everyday folks fail to have the right kind of commitments.
The trouble is that this often is utilized to make predictions, predictions that are prima facie false: not every persyn that is apolitical is simply passive; apolitical people are not guaranteed to do nothing come what may. Perhaps they will act; perhaps they will riot. Perhaps we too will stay home. Of ourselves we know, come what may, that we will never be cruel nihilists because we are committed to the opposite, because we are committed to the destruction of those that intentionally manage the state and defend it at all costs; of apoliticals, these may join us or may fight against us, alongside the fascists and the pigs; or they too might stay home. With our commitments, we are explicit; apoliticals are not explicit with theirs; therefore, it is meaningless to suppose that we know what their implicit commitments are.
We argue elsewhere that it is fruitful to talk about passive nihilism in the bad sense as acting indifferently, by which we mean, passively consuming without explicit commitments. And we do this if only to mark a difference between active nihilism and passive nihilism, as well as a similarity, given that 'Nihilism' is equivalent to 'Nihilism', and 'active' is not equivalent to 'passive'. Taking the term Indifference--intuitive as placeholder for nihilism--we suggest that (politically) activated indifference involves commitments, arrows from origins, to be distinguished by origins, and that acting indifferently is another beast, but not one without commitments. It may not even be precise to say that a passive nihilist is indifferently committed, that every belief is open to revision. Perhaps we mean, undecided, simply put concerning the question of insurrection and freedom.
Given Nietzsche’s stance on the term nihilism (active or passive) and his criticism of anarchism by way of suggesting that active nihilism ends with utopia where everyone becomes passive, suddenly we became aware of the meaning of nihilism for the Geist of His-Story. Liberalism is purported to be at the end of His-Story, a point from which there is nothing left to do. We argue elsewhere contra Nietzsche that “means without end” just means the union of passive and active nihilism, forever dancing, without rest. We are nihilists in this sense of struggle, always abutting to anarchist projects and always desirous of transgressing stated limits in favor of more freedom for ourselves. As anarchism is parasitical upon liberalism, nihilism is parasitical upon anarchism.

The moral question for the passive nihilist is: Is one ready to act? This main question is different from the question of whether one wants to act, whether they can, or worse, whether there is a point, the latter being a question that “dogs” the nihilist. The insurrectionist says it well against the pessimist when they say there is always a point: Doing something in rejection or revenge is fun!
Does one have the commitment to act? Knowing what I am capable of depends on the degree to which we are friends; and even this distinction is not quite enough because there is still a deeper question of trust. We wish to distinguish the being as such of a persyn on the basis of habits as they really are, and not on the basis of habits as they appear. (An important distinction in mask interpretation). One is surely activated into politics when one has a commitment that one is ready to act on, a habit, or belief as C.S. Peirce or William James would say. Habits are those things that we have. And yet, post rationalist thinking suggests that habits, too, have us. The term (habitus) in medieval texts, has to do with a whole series of virtues and vices—and a wonderful demonology, to be sure; and yet, interestingly, medieval texts correspond with post-thinking in supposing that while we have habits, they have us too. Consider the profound irascible function of bravery which has us in Thomas’ discussion of cardinal virtues. We have fortitude too; and as such, the virtue itself is two, not one; for sometimes it is structured under temperance and prudence, and sometimes not.
If, then, the question of being had is on the table, and it is--given that we are talking about the question of what makes one incapable of acting--I think it is important to note that the way in which we are had, the tone, the strength, is the question. Obviously our commitments have us; and we need to get out from under implicit or explicit commitments that suck, say, going to work, consuming the excrement of leviathan, being completely selfish, whatever. This may require intense modification. Of course, to be clear, it’s not that being had per se is the issue; indeed, we would say we want to be had by the desires of our friends. And perhaps this beautiful idea, this obligation from below, from selection, from desire for having a right to hang out without awkwardness, is sufficient to help us develop new habits, habits that we want to have us. For we want our friends to have us, and not because we want to have them, but simply because we want to be solid.

Monday, July 13, 2015

Absolute Amorality vs. Relative Amorality

Nihilism is often associated with pessimism and apathy, a general form of indifference. Alejandro de Acosta (A de A) has deflated this 'purified negation' with content, provocatively suggesting that nihilism might also be associated with ethics, so long as one is free from the burden of obligation. That is, he articulates nihilism as "I might be ethical: some days I am; some days I am not." (The Impossible, Patience). Being indifferent to morality requires that one not be opposed to it per se, as if one were desperately trying to negate it; to be amoral is to transcend the tied together unity of morality. To be indifferent (amoral) is to be neither moral nor immoral.

I want to futz with this (art)iculation a bit by structuring a place for nihilists within the @ milieu. So let's begin by following de Acosta's reading/repetition of the logic of anti-authoritarianism through Rouselle. If I am opposed to the pope, we might ask (as if we didn't know) Why, why are you against the pope? And my giving reasons here would reduce to opposition to representation, which would then reduce further to the idea of being against all authority, and finally, even to the idea of myself having authority over my future selves (A de A, 39-40). Nihilism thus posits a rift between commitment and negation; negation is always potential. The point here is that we wiggle between the meaninglessness of the universe (pure negation) and naming it with meaning for our personal or public projects, by rendering some project meaningless, that this or that utopian project is insufficient in some respect. Of course, nihilists know that our anarchist projects are temporary, fleeting; that our utopias might not fit with future desires. But if we are always logically open to our own anti-authoritarian presuppositions, the question is the degree to which we permit ourselves this opening onto meaninglessness. Thus the growth of post-anarchism--in particular nihilism and insurrectionary anarchism, green anarchism and green nihilism--can be visualized as anarchy (negation) at war with anarchism, through a logical method of resolving internal contradictions. That is, if one is against all authority, what say the anarchists of yore that would espouse a scientific materialism; of anti-authoritarians complicit with colonial-civilization? It's those badass nihilists that are surely at war with anarchism, among other 'isms' (A de A, 46).

Yet the question remains concerning what we are to do with morality; and I want to suggest that the metaphysical distinction between absolute and relative permits a way of making sense of the rather flat idea of active nihilism. What makes action nihilistic? Surely not that it is action per se. What makes something active nihilism, according to Nietzsche, is the application of Nothingness to something, as the russian nihilists wanted to render the church and the czar to/as nothing, for instance. But we don't really call everyday activists fighting against all sorts of shitty problems in our shitty world nihilists, per se, so much as we merely nod their activity. Is there then something about active nihilists that makes them distinct from run of the mill activists? Nietzsche didn't think so

Historically, nihilists named those willing to carry out assassination, those willing to overlook petty human concerns in the mode of action, to achieve the end result. They are almost willing to say anything goes to get to the end; and so they remain committed to the end, to the project. What nihilists do is visualize a link to absolute amorality, in order to push the envelope, in order to define a position of negation within a project; in order to put activists into a different place, to expand the possible, to redescribe morality as relative, and as such, as linked with its complete opposite, amorality. That is: Nothing underpins morality; morality is just whatever our friends, or those we love, let us get away with.

So let me give you a few examples of how the milieu has gone down these roads. A relatively easy envelope pushing was carried out a few years back when the once amoral conception of property destruction became acceptable in the milieu (in some places). ARM carries out action that might not be acceptable to everyday liberals; but perhaps such actions might be acceptable to some ALFers. In a riot, it might be unacceptable to throw a molotov cocktail (in Toronto), but not in Chile.--And I heard last week that a pig-cop got doused with corrosive acid. How amoral! And Earth First! supports kneecapping (and the OLGA cell) through prison writing now. WTF? Nihilists push the envelope, and they are accepted to the degree that they are committed to the project. Given what we said above, the reasoning here is obvious. Nihilism in the milieu functions to show a circle of commitments for strategy and action as larger than it actually is, because, at root, anarchists are also anti-authoritarian, and so, potentially against everything.

Tuesday, June 9, 2015

Maybe that's magick

Ancient accounts of the universe do not include the assumption that the world is brute material; brute matter doesn't exist in this realm; on the contrary, matter is always already formed; for nothing exists without form. Is this position trivial? Of course it seems so: Nothing fails to have shape in the sense of spatial parameters, usually distinguished by difference and spatial continuity or identity. I am this 'mereological sum'; some specific amount of matter constitutes my shaped being.

I think magickal thinking involves the assumption that the universe is not just brute; that the void doesn't define bits of matter colliding in this way or that, following Derrida, following Epicurus; but rather, that things seem to gel together, functioning according to (seemingly) predictable laws, but not in a way that cashes out as perfectly necessary, surely. In other words, metaphysics was assumed to be part and parcel of ancient explanatory accounts of the universe; the (in)formed matter, fixed by an end (its final cause) gave it the air of absolute being as such because the architect (God, First Being per se, the efficient cause of this secondary beings' first being as such, etc.,) yielded a relatively absolute (X just is that way). With God no longer serving this purpose, final causality has taken on another (and via patriarchy, an analogous) sense: we just are civilized beings, structured according to reproductive futurism--which doesn't seem necessarily heteronormative if we consider 're(producing)' per se, that is, when repetition is a matter of repeating ourselves. But this second, analogous just is, is hardly absolute. We can cut the rope and hop the fence. For civilized being cannot be constitutive; it is defined by its opposite; its sin; its animality; its downgoing. 

Whether or not the absolute architect commanded its relative subject to behave as such, or whether matter formed itself absolutely comes down to a difference in narrative fit. Either story works depending on how we wish to see ourselves. Most of His-Story has been a claim of Patriarchy; and only an imaged non-power, a mirroring of lacking-patriarchy, seems better disposed to name anarchy, the rule of disassociation, the collapsing of unity, the dismantling of the propped up single pole phallic circus tent. Maybe that's magickBut if we're gonna call that Queer-Nature (avoiding matriarchy) I think the logical form/critical form we want is both-and, or, paradox; something (y) that clings to something else (x), making the reaffirmation of that something else (x) impossible. "Both unity and disunity" seems to coherently imply distributive unities and collective disunity, yet in infinitum. Our meaning of collective liberation then becomes not "for everyone", but for us; and not because we wish to rule out the possibility that anyone could join us, but rather because we are not deluded into thinking that everyone would be seduced by anarchy (cf. Terror Incognita).

This Becoming Impossible suggests utopian trajectories, perhaps little better off than the desire for unity, peace, and whatever. But deflating its import leaves us at least two ways which both can lay claim to 'better', noting here that being hopeless deflates not the better, but the best. The two ways are opposed: from the position of the civilized, outside the walls is hell; and from the position of the wild, the fortress is hardly seductive. Being hopeless, of course, applied to the better seems to be an articulation of failed intellectual fit---which seems to lack heart. That is, one might argue: how can we say the better is good enough? For unless we know the best, we cannot know the better. But we are saying 
that, on the contrary, there are at least two bests, and that we prefer the downgoing anti-civ trajectory, which is a rejection of civilege.

I think this entertaining whatever possibility, openness, but being committed to the opposite of civilized patriarchy, is an affect of magickal thinking. And I think its healing is as follows: Since the best is not available, since there are good reasons to be hopeless about that limit, we might as well make things better, however we mean it. And moreover, we affirm that our acts in the gift of these means without end, are all the better if our hearts will it. So against the intellectual position, we abut our hearts; not to replace intellectualism, but to temper it. We thus hold two propositions in paradox, without equivocation: If we inquire: If there is no hope for the best, why do anything?, we deflate this intellectualism with: Since there is no possible best, we might as well make things better.

We know not what is above, but we postulate this below, as a potentially pleasing sacrifice for absolute immanence. Because even if it was all for nothing, at least we can stand ourselves.

Tuesday, May 26, 2015

Let's Grow Courageous Hearts.

Anarchism and Religion aren't as at sixes and sevens as most want us to believe. We entertain rituals, performative acts, gestures, etc., for some reason; and for the outsider, it seems ridiculous to argue that anarchism isn't religious; that God has nothing to do with it. I want to make an argument below that suggests that we ought to generate a religious fervour, if only for one reason.

I've been toying with nihilism for quite some time now and I've been intrigued by the contradiction central to so many anarchists. We seem to know that the revolution is unlikely. The obvious reasons here are that anarchy per se is not seductive, because too many people love state security; and because everyday people are undecided, as such, they are just as likely fascists as friends. And so, we've structured our narrative in order to make anarchism seductive; and so, others have found issue with anarchism for being state-like; and so, anarchists hate post-leftists; and finally (which is to say because these act without end) everyone hates the non-teleological nihilist. And so it goes.

The contradiction that has bothered me is simply the question about Hope: if there is no point in going for utopias, why do we act the way that we do?--We're fucked, we might as well anyways... Obviously one important reason is that we have to live with ourselves. And from this starting point, I want to address how we move beyond the inertia of lacking momentum. I think this is where repetitive ritual serves the point. Our hearts can grow beyond the gift to the other that you trust, towards the stranger that you've never met, from the relevance of the project that is doomed, from failure because of doubt. How do we grow our hearts? Practise. Tests. Living for friends. The unique ones that I know, that have found me, have the biggest hearts for their friends. But we struggle with being willing to take on "consentiment" in the production of making more friends. 

Here's my enthymeme: because even if there was no point, I can say my heart was in it.

Tuesday, May 19, 2015


The law of attraction is a personalized philosophy familiar to conversations surrounding energy healing. The way in which you give is the way in which you receive is one analogue; and a strict definition can be found in Terry Andrews' The Occult Christ:

“Like attracts like. Energy is magnetic as well as electric. What we put out, we get back” (98-9). Combined we have:

a] The more you give, the more you receive;

b] the less you give, the less you receive.  

It seems that the western world is a counter example to a] and b], or otherwise, a justification of a]. But consider a] and b] individually: are they true? Consider a]. We already have so much. How then can we know if we are getting more when we give some away? And here the response might prove the point: Well surely, we are so blessed. It must be Karma.--But here we look to find reasons for why we are so privileged. 

Perhaps a] is then trivially true, a law of "prudent" capital returns. What of b]? Surely false: many give little, or even take much, and yet receive much. 

a] and b] are philosophically problematic, of course. Kant put the point well when he argued that selfish interests cannot be excluded in a pure interpretation because the notion of good works presupposes merit, which always associates one’s interests, thereby making the testable limit impossible to determine. Bataille talks around this limit in his notion of expenditure. Ideally, which is to say, surpassing prudence, one would give everything until one enters into collective friendship; joy before death. Presumably the spiritual test contra Kant is that if you get nothing in return, can you still find joy

The trouble in all of this is the way in which the law of attraction permits interpretation. Of course ambiguity is standard when it comes to occult or hidden knowledge, that is, of knowledge yet to be ‘unconcealed’ or ‘disclosed’--whether, that is to say, knowing non subjectively is even the point of spiritual exercises. And to be clear, I do not think that because the terms of the proposition that I give and receive more to give to receive more, etc., are ambiguous, and Kantian at root, one therefore is permitted to entertain Crowley’s spiritual summation: do as thou will (is the summary of the law) (of Horus). Christ, from the age of Osiris by Crowley’s rendering, of course, interprets Andrews’ well defined law of attraction with a bit of fruitful ambiguity:

“Wherever your treasure lies, there you heart will also” (Luke 12:34)

To give merely in order to receive; to stop the circle from moving through ad(in) infinitum cyclical stages, is the limit (and proof) of Kant’s suspicion about pragmatic moral law and intentionality. Bataille cracks open Kant's notion in a way that coheres with ideal anarchist (nihilist) negation. The decision in ideal nihilist negation is always whether there can ever be rest, a final end in the gifting of ones’ means to the friend that is, or whether rest is just death, that is, the non-metaphorical kind from which one cannot return. To be clear, of course, we are talking about killing our material extensions, not our material substances. As such, we are here delimiting ourselves through transformation unto the gift of bare necessities that Baloo (the bear) was talking about. 

Well then, let's consider the point from fresh angle. Gift-energy involves the notion of uncontainment. So what’s the problem with giving energy to vampires or some ideal that consumes us while producing it? The real question here is: just when is it fruitful to "bind" oneself to an ideology? 

Most people give in order to receive. Even expenditure involves the gift in order to receive another kind of gift, the gift of possible joy before death.--But there is also a gift here to oneself; a learning that one can do with less. If we give it all away, is there any guarantee that we will get things back? Of course not! To repeat, joy before death is to entertain the possibility that we will have nothing afterwards, and even, on a meta level, that we could become nothing in the act of giving. 

Now, is it not the case that we contain our energy for later use precisely because we doubt this limit in both senses, whether supernatural or natural, whether from the Source, or God, or whatever, or from our friends? We might give it all away to strangers or give it all away to our friends; but we probably don’t give everything away precisely because we believe we won't get it back, precisely because we don't believe Karma, precisely because we don't believe our gift will return. Precisely because we fail to desire the qualitative.

The way out of all of this, of course, is to test the proposition. Is a] true? Do I receive more if I give everything away to those that I do not know? Do I receive more if I give everything away to my friends? Does it make a difference? 

And there we stand, immobile, bound to our prudence, bound to our doubts. 

Monday, March 23, 2015

The politics of dispossession

Leftists tend to presume that we are entitled to a piece of the pie, a product of theft from other animal peoples, curiously justified as better if tending towards reproductive futurism. Right wing fucks suppose that one is entitled to the fruits of state-given properties, thieved, of course, via imperialism and genocide, and passed along as accumulated capital that one is hardly entitled to. None of this is play--the billionaire playboy mocks the term 'play', and the leftist only dreams of vacation (which is getting ready for work), and if not, pathetically, they dream of job satisfaction.

What interests me is the way in which leftwing rhetoric articulates that we simply must struggle for pie; and that the theft of civileges constitutes a reason for struggle. But what if we undervalue ascension in civilization, indeed, cut it down, and accept the removal of our dependencies? Part of the problem is surely that we value the things we are trained to value by the left. But what if we take back value, per se, and transvalue progress? What if we forget the commune, forget the enlightenment promise, and advocate for the destruction of civilege? Is the state then doing us a favour when we can no longer count on it to save us with handouts?

Anyone that has carried on the ridiculous desire of gaining degrees comes to terms eventually with student politics. In any event, it is presently argued that it is just unfair that TA's don't make the kind of money TA's once did; that it's unfair that temporary work has come to be the rule (not the exception) in all areas on the dying parasite host that is leviathan. We say so be it. We affirm that it is precisely when fascism shows up that people are readied and enabled to attack; that civileges being taken permits us to take back our lives from working for others. It positions us to simply play. Play seems best, in my opinion, when one's hand is forced, when one has no other option. Hence, play doesn't follow privilege; for it has nothing to do with it; and it might be, by definition, impossibly productive--and so, impossibly recuperated.

The TA's trying to get more money, trying to fit (rectudio) with reproductive futurism, fail to realize that none of us have any future; that capitalism is a fixed game privileging accumulated capital, and that none of us can have anything but scraps of fruit and crust from the already eaten pie. Even the jejune effort of anarcho-syndicalists to occupy and replace bosses at work with workers as bosses, fails to address how late into capitalism we actually are. Every functioning consumption apparatus must be occupied so that one's anarcho-syndicalist productivity cannot be ignored with new flows of already existing capital.--Sounds free right? Like a fence?

The left says that the right wants us to be individualized so that we cannot take back anything. But atomization is better than the false truth that collectivity is rewarding; for from the place of precariousness one can see for themselves if they are worthy of life, in the truest qualitative sense, very much and obviously opposed to purchasing life from the store.--Maybe we can see for ourselves the law of decomposition: If you can't truck it in the wild, maybe it's time to lay down and die. Of course from the place of oneself, one can find others beyond the masks of identity politics; one can feel precarity and act with purpose with true others--not allies. Both the left and the right offer us nothing but a down-going line of flight, an up-going ascent of civilege. Their trajectory is boring as fuck. Ours cannot be.

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

What's the Point?

How can we have hope in general when so much, including our own potential demands, weigh against the possibility of hope for security, stability, love, and all that?

Postmodern nihilistic thinking is often maligned for failing to be sufficiently interested in anything. If capitalism recomposes ad infinitum, only to stop itself short because that which was being used has finally been used up completely, what's the ultimate point in combating this reality of decompostion/recomposition? We are marching towards begin-used-up-completely; so, it would seem simple enough, because absolutely negative, that the point is to be living-useless. Obviously this is the category of politico-aesthetic revolt, depending on what we mean by this qualitative difference; and hence, what this means isn't mine to say for anyone else (and maybe even for myself to come). 

Those that malign postmodern thinking shouldn't malign them on this score, for seeing the hard truth, that is to say; they ought to malign them for failing to see that one can be a different kind of monster over and against being the monstrosity that is consumption-work-death-life. This is the thin line between pessimism and nihilism; and once we distinguish the truth that nothing matters, that history is hardly progressive, since it is merely a really good trick, etc., we individuals might be open to possibility--active, passive or otherwise.

In combating this reality, at best, an analogous microcosm of the microcosmic indifferent universe, Irony is taken to be reasonable. How can anything be taken seriously given a long view? This position, politically narrowed, concerns not the question of how anything can be taken seriously at all, but rather, given the problem of other people, how can a positive project be taken seriously? In Derrida's terms, or at least some of them, our projects will always crumble (autodeconstruct), because nothing but our positing these values, and 'holding' them--and therefore holding that which is Wholly Other at bay--keep them alive. But that which is Wholly Other has a claim on existence too.--And not just a potential claim! The uncanny, freakish, and monstrous elements of our worst fears already exist in other worlds, in the margins. 

Of course, this position follows as an opening. There are Wholly Others because we speak Law, as Agamben's anthropological machine suggests; for if law is a sorting device for good and evil, there will always be those that fit the place of the evil. But this is only a problem of naming. The fact that there are others outside of us that we malign by doing politics sets the tone for "deconstruction" of anything seemingly stable in the long view. What of the short view? Whose view? 

Being Ironic, from our position, is a humbling matter of realizing the limitation already upon our positive valuations. Everyday people may not care, other species surely do not; and then there's the unruly gang of nihilists (and/or queers, and/or individualists, and/or insurrectos) that continually frustrate anarcho-politicians via ironic laughter. Our question might be: How can we place upon ourselves final causes, if we can't even decide whether we will want what we have decided? And the answer might be, following the later Derrida: The long view is a tactic, a seeming ontological explanation. It is one that merely might be taken seriously. You See: Derrida was wise; he probably read Rorty and named his ontological principle (deconstruction) a quasi-transcendental, which is a fancy way of being agnostic about the metaphysics of the Real. Nevertheless, with Derrida's word as a tactic, the way is still open to follow Nietzsche: the proposition of Nihilism (Nothing matters) can be applied indifferently, it might be applied willy-nilly; and especially only if it pays. This is the right of its posit: since it is a posit, one need not be consistent about it.

Laughter itself, the ironic gesture, is only possibly a very serious matter because deconstruction was always a long view, something remote, and at that, something only possibly remote. Yet, still, one might laugh with the long view in mind. Alternatively, one might laugh the long view off. There are obviously options. There is a huge cavern between the pessimistic "nothing matters at all", and the nihilistic "Obviously this right here doesn't matter". The Pessimist gives herself a program; while the nihilist is iconoclastic, if useful.