Reconciliation?

I have no idea how to credit this appropriately, but this is an apropos image, accessed at: http://www.atasite.org/2013/04/19/we-are-winning-dont-forget-short-works-by-jean-gabriel-periot/we-are-winning-a/

I don’t have many friends I get to see in person anymore. This is a post-vaccination statement. It doesn’t have anything to do with the specter of death posed by COVID.

I know a lot of people who were very afraid of contracting the virus, and for good reason. I was too, but only because it would turn me into a vector. I wouldn’t say I have a complete disregard for my own life, but more a shoulder shrugging fatalism. I’ve got ways I’d prefer to die and ways I wouldn’t and I’m aware that I really won’t get much choice in the end. It’s life that worries me. This isn’t an anti-vaccination thing. It’s just an expression of an ethos.

There are a few people who I saw consistently. I’m related to several of them. This doesn’t make them count any less. So, lucky for me, I had consistent hang-out time through a year of isolation.

One of my closer and more consistent people is a guy some years younger than me. When you come out of a subculture that doesn’t exist anymore you awaken to a social world that doesn’t make sense. It’s like a poorly fitted shirt. I wonder if people formerly in gangs or cults feel the same way.

So, this younger person and I have a similar point of origin. Same scene, years apart, same politics, years apart. We speak similarly. Our humour works, a sarcastic outrage expressing doom. So we hang around and talk about politics, ethics, and how fun it is to watch a right-winger get pulped in a UFC bout.

While our politics align, they arise in different eras. I was around for the emergence, brief ascendance and sad defeat of the anarchism of the ‘alter-globalization’ movement. That stuff was ancient history by the time he got involved.

It is my strong impression that in the present the Democratic Socialists of America serve as a net for an unending leftist diaspora. It’s a catch-all. It’s mostly dumb, but it’s popular and dumb. I’m sure it has the same problems inherent to any political scene, this being an inability to develop a coherent strategy to force change.

I’m pretty sure we’re past the idea that we’ll get a revolutionary movement that defines a future utopia. I would, very sincerely, welcome such a thing, but after 25 years of utter and embarrassing failure I am of the opinion that organizations can only provide a framework to allow the insurrectionary impulses of the present to explode from. Razing a city accomplishes at least as much as getting a socialist elected to a city council seat. If anyone reading feels the need to argue this point, I’m more than happy to. In fact, I’ll be excited to be wrong.

This friend engaged in organizing with a DSA chapter for a time. It sounded worthwhile. They attempted tenant organizing, food distribution, the organization of a mutual aid network. All good things to do, whether they work or not. The downside of this is that organizations don’t have a sharp learning curve. Everybody bails. They get discouraged or have to pick up a second job or they have children, or… on and on. So the people who could troubleshoot or refine a strategy or tactic bail, leaving the more energetic and naive to figure things out.

So this was the conversation. There’s this enthusiastic and cluelessly optimistic guy who is embedded in the local chapter of DSA. I immediately feel the need to knock him down, if only in my own mind. I saw that I am embarrassed for him. He posts cringeworthy stuff on the internet. He doesn’t have the experience to assess futility. He’s not been broken.

We shit-talked the shit out of this guy, and it was so satisfying. It was like a cigarette after a day of swearing off. But, like the simile in the preceding sentence, I felt bad at the end. It was like discursive political binge drinking and I felt hungover.

I looked at myself, measured against this guy. I’m a firm believer that if a person wants to be consistently right they should opt for pessimism. Hope feels dangerous. I’ve seen hope, and it gets people destroyed.

A person I know spent a fairly long time in prison for militant political action. When they summarized the thinking behind their activities, they said that they sincerely believed a slogan thrown about in the movements that spun around the 1999-2001 anti-ministerial protests: “We are winning.”

We weren’t.

So for a long time I’ve felt that optimism is embarrassing and that it can be catastrophically harmful. This has been born out in my own life.

If I measure the young man against myself I see some things. This person doesn’t know these lessons in failure and it frees him up to try and to act.

Not trying isn’t virtuous. Hopelessness does nothing to encourage effort, and the efforts of the hopeless are generally sad and occasionally horrible. For myself I’ve become exhausted by embarrassment. I would rather appear smart by abstaining than look foolish by pouring effort into a lost cause.

I remember feeling hopeful. It felt good until it didn’t and I looked back on the hard work and pepper spray of the past to realize that I might truly be a dumbass.

It is not the case that I think resignation is useless. You can do a lot with it. As I said, if you want to be wrong, be an optimist. Resignation provides a scalpel to cut away hope not born out by reality, but I think I stop there. I look at the tumors and decide that the patient is fucked. Send them home with some painkillers and access to prestige television.

The naivete of hope doesn’t even bother hunting for those tumors. They just summon more energy, energy that is ultimately finite, and keep trying.

I want there to be a place in the middle where my cynicism is balanced by refusal to give up. Perhaps we have this in the present.

More and more I believe in two political facts: That people are constantly resisting immiseration through strategies that look like dysfunction. People’s drug use, absenteeism, theft, slacking surly demeanors and abstention from the nuclear family- these are all forms of political struggle. Probably not consciously so, but they don’t need to be. Or maybe they do. When all the technologies of surveillance and bureaucratic measurement are focused on these problems it is obvious that they are categories of struggle. Perhaps it would be beneficial to frame them this way.

The second of these is a belief in the power of what I imagine the British would call ‘the mob’. Our most recent periods of struggle have been defined by massive protests that become unapologetically militant in their confrontations with the police, who, if done away with, would allow people to address their problems rather expediently, by way of appropriation. The redistribution of wealth only looks like stealing on the surface.

The threat of this form of struggle was apparent as I read the news this morning. People are rising up against the administrators of their misery in Colombia, and the state is bringing all of its capacity for cooptation and violence to bear on this movement. American diplomats are decrying ‘vandalism’ as desperate people are torn apart by bullets.

How do we balance cynicism and hope in this context? We need both, but the fulcrum requires a balance of millimeters.

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