Laurance Labadie was born in Detroit, in the summer of 1898, the son of the famously affable anarchist Joseph A. Labadie. Jo, as he was called, neither pressed anarchism on his children nor seems to have done very much pressing or parenting at all, preferring to allow the Labadie brood space to learn and grow on their own terms. That they, to his disappointment, never found much happiness or success suggests, perhaps, that the anarchist’s aversion to hierarchical relationships is ill-suited to the business of raising children into content and independent adults. Though certainly independent of thought and action, Joseph’s son Laurance was anything but content. Even to those who loved him and considered him family, the younger Labadie did not inherit his father’s easy, obliging way. In her book All-American Anarchist: Joseph A. Labadie and the Labor Movement, Laurance’s niece, Carlotta Anderson, writes that he “bitterly disappointed both parents,” never marrying or achieving career or financial success.
In his recent essay on IGD, Peter Gelderloos argued that Trump isn’t a departure from American democracy, but is simply its latest, most vile creation. While Trump is not a strict fascist, contends Gelderloos (a long time anarchist writer, organizer, and thinker), part of Trump’s appeal is that he seeks to re-strengthen white supremacy at a time when many people are losing faith in the State and the economic system, while offering ready-made enemies and easy answers to complex problems.
The role of protest and attempts to shit down the talks far-right wing figures such as Milo Yiannopoulos has been a recent subject controversy. But what are the actual goals of anti-fascists, anarchists and others on the left who advocate giving “no platform”? The following is a transcribed interview with Mark Bray of Black Rose on the Feb. 10, 2017 broadcast of WNYC’s On the Media.
The concept of constant struggle holds strong as definitive measure among a range of anarchists. We may be struggling against our preexisting conditions--or the level at which we are at odds with what we oppose as anarchists, or intentionally confronting or attacking our opposition in a direct drive towards a intensified state of struggle. This isn't intended to present a binary either, as of course there can be a range of ways we may attack our enemies that make sense in our situation.
Following up on last weeks topic on transhumanism is a simpler question.
Is it in the interest of anarchism for humans to leave and settle upon other planets than earth.
On the pro side is the idea that exploration, while the seed of colonialism, is also the seed of something like freedom. Any place else will not have the institutions and anthropology that this planet does.
Any place else can represent the tabla rosa [edit: tabula rasa] of a fresh start, a blank piece of paper, a new beginning.
The danger is that the self, constantly removed and made unlike the others, may become isolated. But the Pleistocene solution is the enhanced complexity of relationships.
- Paul Shepard, Coming Home to the Pliestocene
After all, with lions on the same plains, with both of us following the same prey and stealing each others' kills, we became human. We have a lot in common. It's not the lions' fault if some humans later become philosophers.
- Carl Safina, Beyond Words: How Animals Think and Feel
What do anarchists mean when we talk about love? For some the word is inextricably associated with pacifism. Spiritual leaders like Martin Luther King, Jr. preached love and non-violence as one and the same. “Peace and love”—together, these words have become a mantra invoked to impose passivity on those who would stand up for themselves. But does love always mean peace? Do we need to throw out the one if we disagree tactically with the other? What does it mean for us to extol love in such a violent time, when more and more people are losing faith in nonviolence? What is actually at stake in embracing or rejecting the rhetoric of love?
Cody Wilson turned a toothpick over in his mouth and swirled the olive-adorned drink in front of him.
"I don't ask anyone to be sympathetic to my position," he said. "I don't think I'm a very sympathetic character."
The 28-year-old may or may not be on to something when he makes that statement about his personality. He is decidedly on-point when he makes it about his ideas.