We Are an Image from the Future: The Greek Revolt of December 2008

Edited by A.G. Schwarz, Tasos Sagris, and Void Network
AK Press

Consider what it might feel like if July 4th in the United States were celebrated not with fireworks and barbecue but with demonstrations and occupations to achieve a further social revolution. That's what November 17th is in Greece since a student revolt on that date in 1973 triggered the end of the dictatorship. In fact, because of the role of the students in achieving this, a law was passed by the socialist government in 1981 to establish academic asylum. Although the law has since been weakened, police are restricted from entering university campuses.

I learned these facts from reading We Are an Image from the Future: The Greek Revolt of December 2008, a collage of interviews, oral history, chronologies, personal essays, manifestos, and political essays, edited by A.G. Schwarz, Tasos Sagris, and Void Network. The format is similar to that used in the INCITE! collective's The Revolution Will Not Be Funded, which tells its story in a range of contradictory voices. In both books, the format results in repetition and a difficult-to-track sequence of events, but allows DIY interpretation and wide range of views, some of them way, way beyond the political discourse permitted in the United States, even in so-called progressive media.

Here is as good a point as any to complain about how the physical book under review—a wide ten inches on a six-inch spine—was difficult to read in bed. Perhaps this is in keeping with the direct action message of We Are an Image from the Future: get up and out and do something.

For those undeterred by these difficulties, there are rewards. The editors argue that their book is not a history, but is as close to a true account as can be achieved for the unexpected and multifaceted events sparked by the police murder of fifteen-year-old Alexandros Grigoropoulos on December 6, 2008 in the Exarchia section of Athens—a neighborhood known for countercultural and anarchist activity. A witness entertaining a guest in his apartment above the square (who calls the Athenian equivalent of 9/11), activists who admit to being frightened by the violence of the ensuing riots, radicals who experience the realization that a revolutionary moment can occur in unpredictable ways that don't match a theoretical scheme, and a veteran of the overthrow of the dictatorship who chastises contemporary revolutionaries for smashing shops all have their say.

We're definitely not in Kansas anymore—or even in New York. Greece, which experienced occupation during World War II but actually liberated itself and endured a civil war in living memory, has some far-from-tame political confrontations. In the United States, we are more likely to criticize Washington and Jefferson as hypocritical slaveholders than recapitulate their revolution with a little political rumble of our own.

We Are an Image from the Future provides an honest and unforeclosed discussion of political violence. There is room for differentiation among property destruction, self-defense, expropriation, and deliberate attacks on the authority of the state, without distinctions being lost in the mire of the ever-expanding catch-all of "domestic terrorism." After all, Washington and his comrades were insurrectionists to the British.

Review by Frances Chapman

Anarchism and Its Aspirations

By Cindy Milstein
AK Press and the Institute for Anarchist Studies

Anarchism and Its Aspirations is a collection of several essays that together offer an introduction to modern anarchist thought and its applications. The title essay, which is the first and longest essay in the book, discusses anarchism’s historical and philosophical roots, as well as its fundamental tenets. The other three essays, “Anarchism’s Promise for Anticapitalist Resistance,” “Democracy is Direct,” and “Reclaim the Cities: From Protest to Popular Power,” attempt to tease out the relevance of anarchism in the contemporary context of state consolidation and the globalization of capital.

The book is geared toward two audiences: first, established anarchists who want to renew their visions for anarchism, and second, readers curious about anarchism who are familiar with the basics of progressive political theory, but unacquainted with anarchist thought in particular. As the author states explicitly, the book attempts to present a rosy view of anarchism–an emphasis on what it strives to be capable of–more than a detailed analysis of its past or present weaknesses or distortions. However, the author does touch on her opinions about the areas in which anarchism has room to grow–in particular, she discusses the importance of getting beyond “protests against” and placing more emphasis on building popular power.

I appreciated the book’s visionary tone, as well as the clear analysis of what anarchism uniquely has to offer to other progressive schools of thought. Among the many aspects of anarchism discussed in the essays, I found the focus on unabashed utopianism particularly compelling. In a world in which even the most progressive of activists often think in terms of strategic compromise, it is refreshing to remember that it is possible to dream bigger dreams–anarchist dreams of pluralism, direct democracy, organizing for mutual aid based on true consensus, and above all, an abundance of resources, love, play, sustainability, and peace for all inhabitants of the planet.

If Anarchism and Its Aspirations has a single flaw, it is its tendency towards slightly dense prose. Overall, it is highly readable, especially given the many layers of history and politics that it explores with depth and nuance. However, a few more anecdotes and applications would have helped this particular reader immensely–the most striking example is the “battle of Seattle,” which is mentioned throughout the book as a watershed moment for modern anarchism, but which is never elucidated, not even via a brief account of the events of November 30, 1999. In this regard, the book occasionally assumes prior knowledge and familiarity (which I, for one, didn’t have) with the internal politics of modern anarchism, which renders some of the book’s detailed political discussion abstract and difficult to follow. In general, I don’t have a problem with finding myself in over my head when I’m reading about something new–in this case, though, the book states that one of its two main aims is to serve as an introduction to anarchism to those who are unfamiliar with it, so I feel that the omission deserves comment.

On the whole, though, Anarchism and Its Aspirations succeeds in painting a hopeful portrait of the relevance and utility of an anarchist framework in the context of the contemporary struggle for revolutionary social change.

Review by Ri J. Turner

Italian Anarchism, 1864-1892

By Nunzio Pernicone
AK Press

Armed with footnotes and provisioned with a healthy bibliography, Italian Anarchism, 1864-1892 is not an easy read for the casual reader, or even the casual “antiauthorian leftist.” Isn’t that the euphemism for anarchist these days? Still, I don’t regret the time I spent reading—insurrection after insurrection, congress upon congress—the nearly 300 pages of text in Nunzio Pernicone’s history of these three decades. He writes not just about heroes like Errico Malatesta, but introduces the reader to supporting characters as well.

As an Italian-American who doesn’t even know her father’s real last name, I’ll admit I checked the index first, for Rossi, Russo, Rosso, anything that might have been shortened to our “boat name,” Ross. During these years my Italian grandfather (or was it his father?) immigrated to the United States, for lots of good reasons, as cataloged by Pernicone: the brutal introduction of capitalist farming methods, famine, and a cholera epidemic. I met Giovanni Russo, region of origin unspecified, who immigrated to Brazil and started an anarchist colony. Alas, I learned also that the Calabria, where my dad’s folks originated, was generally not in the vanguard during these turbulent times in Italy. I fear my ancestors really were the backward peasants the anarchists tried to energize.

But let’s move from mere genealogy to history. Not just women’s history has been “stolen from us,” and I am very grateful to AK Press for publishing this and other works of anarchist history and philosophy. It was almost as true in my young adulthood as it was for the “anarchist prince” Peter Kropotkin that one had to read about anarchism piecemeal in pamphlets. And of course, the reports of police agents are often the only written documents for historical research, as a glance at the footnotes and bibliography in the book reveals.

If we are patient readers, Pernicone’s friendly but balanced, serious, well-documented history fills a need for those of us on the left who are not “anarchist studies” specialists. It occasionally strikes a light, even humorous and lovingly critical, tone. The story about the overweight Michel Bakunin, Russian but the father of Italian anarchism, and his extrication from a carriage on an escape from Italy made me laugh out loud.

Without getting into the learning-from-and-repeating history discussion, the gifts of this book are numerous: the reader can actually feel the pressure militants exerted on themselves and their recruits to stage insurrection after insurrection even in the face of serious repression, understand the betrayal comrades felt when Andrea Costa “sold out” to become a politician, and appreciate the contingencies of history (i.e., how things might have gone another way). After all, anarchism was once a popular movement not just in Italy, and helped set the agenda for socialist activism, but like all movements it was composed of human beings with flaws as well as strengths.

How was this powerful international movement pushed to the fringe and then outside the boundary of political discourse, trivialized as a frivolous critique of organization, or slandered as the equivalent of terrorism in contemporary metropolitan dailies? Sometimes it is easier for feminists and participants in other contemporary movements to open our minds about own activism and the way forward by reading and thinking about a history a bit more distant and “other” than the anti-globalization actions in Seattle in 2000. Pernicone provides us with a history and leaves drawing parallels with contemporary times to the reader.

Do the multiplicity of newspapers started by Italian anarchists suggest a similarity to our current reliance on the Internet? Are activists today missing the boat as anarchists of this period did with early labor organizing? Read and learn.

Review by Frances Chapman

Come Hell or High Water: A Handbook on Collective Process Gone Awry

By Delfina Vannucci and Richard Singer
AK Press

Mahatma Gandhi famously urged his followers to “be the change you want to see in the world.” It sounds so simple: Be kind, listen well, mediate conflicts, and treat all living things with respect. But as anyone who has ever worked in a community or civic organization knows, power plays are common and Gandhi’s counsel is easy to ignore.

Delfina Vannucci and Richard Singer’s Come Hell or High Water is a pocket-sized pamphlet meant to help anarchist organizers avoid the pitfalls endemic to social change efforts. The lessons are clearly written—and supplemented by hilarious line drawings. They’re also applicable beyond anarchist circles. Indeed, this practical manual offers easy-to-follow guidelines that can be applied to all kinds of situations, from the workplace to the affinity group.

For example, anyone who has ever participated in a so-called collective has seen how difficult it is to share power. Time and again, we see a charismatic leader rise to the top, becoming the de facto spokesperson and decision-maker, while everyone else scurries to assist him or her. Despite lip service about all members being equal, in practice, this rarely if ever happens. “When the ideal of egalitarianism is allowed to flounder unattended to,” Vannucci and Singer write, “it can devolve right back into the patterns that most of us knew in our lives outside of collectives: Hierarchy, mistrust, looking out only for oneself, and sometimes even underhanded scheming.”

Their solution? Pay attention to process, encourage debate, be sure all individuals and factions get a chance to air their positions, and then vote. While consensus is important, they conclude, voting allows dissenting opinions to be recorded and lets all sides vent their ideas before a final tally. They also offer a check list of behaviors that erode participation: Tolerating people who act exasperated or impatient, as if less-popular members are wasting the group‘s time with questions or contending opinions; slandering a member of the group behind his or her back between meetings; using intimidation tactics to keep opposition at bay; condoning behavior that lets a few activists act wounded or victimized by criticism; making oneself indispensable and not sharing information; treating others as though they are silly or stupid; and injecting fear by projecting dire consequences if things are not done a particular way.

While concrete examples of these practices—and how they destroyed a collective or came close—would have made the pamphlet even stronger, anyone who has attempted to plan an action, organize an event, or create something new will recognize the destructive demeanors outlined in Come Hell or High Water. Making the Diva or Dictator aware of his or her actions—and making clear that such behavior is unacceptable—Vannucci and Singer write, is key to developing a new paradigm. They also argue that collective process doesn’t mean that people have to agree with each other 100 percent of the time. Instead, learning how to disagree without rancor and engaging in civil discourse despite disagreements is a good starting point in recasting the world. As Gandhi made clear, progressive advancement requires imagination and creativity to envision alternatives to capitalism, war, oppression, and hierarchies.

Review by Eleanor J. Bader