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The “TOP 10” most important anarchist concepts
I chose the “top 10” formula as a joke, as there’s obviously no top 10 of anything, especially a topic such as this. Capitalism likes to bottle up and serve us portions of content, usually in parallel and easily digestible, so that you view as much as you can in as short amount of time as possible, causing the development of your “ADD internet brain”.
Chances are your brain is fucked too (just like mine!) and this kind of content is easy to digest. You don’t have the time to read a full blown article, or god forbid a book.
So here are ten important concepts and explanations on how they relate to our beautiful agenda of anarchism:
The State: The state is a tool of oppression and exploitation. It exists to serve the interests of the powerful few at the expense of the many. It uses violence, coercion, and manipulation to maintain its control over society. We must reject the state and all forms of authority that perpetuate its power.
Property: The accumulation of wealth in the hands of a few leads to poverty, homelessness, and environmental destruction. It is both an incentive and a tool, designed for exploitation. We must abolish this concept and replace it with collective ownership and management of resources by the people, via direct democracy.
Work: Work under capitalism is dehumanizing and alienating. It reduces people to mere cogs in the machine, exploited for the profit of the few. In capitalism, the majority works for a third party, rather than themselves. We must create a society where work is meaningful, fulfilling, and provides for the needs of individuals. Work cannot be just a mere way of surviving.
Education: Education under capitalism is designed to produce obedient workers and consumers. It fails to nurture critical thinking, creativity, and social awareness. We must create an education system that empowers individuals and is focused on providing people with the aforementioned values and life skills.
Culture: Culture under capitalism is dominated by commodification and consumerism. It perpetuates oppressive ideologies and reinforces existing power structures, because of its double incentive to accumulate wealth and power. We must create a culture that values freedom, equality, and self-determination. We must create meaningful values and incentives, rather than blind wealth accumulation. In theory, capitalism was supposed to bring forth innovation and provide more choices and better quality of life for the consumer, via the free market. The “free market” however is now controlled by states and monopolies, unwilling to share a piece of the pie. These monopolies are unwilling to play nice and buy up/squash any competition, and just further reinforce their place in the hierarchy.
Ecology: The capitalist system is inherently unsustainable and threatens the very existence of life on Earth. We must recognize our relation with nature and prioritize the preservation of ecosystems and the environment.
Internationalism: Capitalism knows no borders. Its exploitation and oppression know no boundaries (colonialism, market, FIAT currency). We must recognize our common struggle against capitalism and work together across borders to build a more just and equitable world. No borders only people!
Direct Action: We cannot rely on electoral politics or legislations to bring about meaningful change. We cannot change the system within the system, because it was designed to be unbeatable from within. We must take direct action in our communities to challenge authority, build alternatives, and create a better world.
Self-Determination: We must respect the right of all individuals and communities to self-determination. We must oppose all forms of colonialism, imperialism, and cultural appropriation.
Solidarity: The simplest, but hardest truth to implement in the common struggle: We are stronger together, and should toss away less fundamental disagreements that we may have among one another.
Let me know what you think. I’d love a start a debate under this one. Cheers.
What it means to be.
I tried a new format with this one. Instead of just writing, I recorded and transcribed my voice into words. I usually just write stuff, but I’ve come to the realization that, sometimes my mind works faster than I can write. That’s a weird thing to say. I know. But really, some of the more profound things that I have had attributed to me, came from a deep conversation with other people. So why not converse with yourself? Or rather monologue I suppose.
I have never really had a voice. And I’m still not ready to put my own voice out there. So instead, I translate my thoughts into words, which you have to read yourself. Writing gives me time and can even alleviate some anxiety that comes from conversation. I have never in my life (until now, when I started actively working on it) voiced my opinion over the majority. Be it classmates, parents, superficial friends. Only people who knew the real me were and are my real friends. Ironically, I always had a lot to say. But I just didn’t. I struggled to find my own voice.
I want control. Control over what comes out of my mouth, out of my mind. Writing is great in the way that you can control the final product. You can format it and even erase past mistakes. But forget all that. This is mostly raw brain-vomit. I intended this to be that way. It’s coherent enough for you to understand everything intellectually and it’s raw enough that you can probably feel the kinds of emotions I’m going through as I recall some of the past horrors of a quiet life in a loud brain.
I just have this deep, deep rooted desire to finally be able to
express myself, because I feel like I haven’t been able to for the past 20
years of my life. I was born in a small, conservative community. I hated everyone there. I was afraid of everyone there. And I even thought about killing myself ever since I discovered as a child that you can in fact, die. I grew up there and I just couldn’t speak my mind, ever. It’d be heresy. Instead, I’d pick up these small little quirks that I would consider acts of rebellion. I’d skip Sunday church. I’d skip school. Little things like that. But when you have so little freedom, doing these things feel amazing. You rebelled, man. And you know what? I’m fucking proud of myself. I had the balls to get in occasional trouble. Always did. Always was a fighter. If you weren’t in a similar situation, I’m sorry I just can’t properly explain how it feels like. These little rebellious behaviors, slowly snowball into something greater, something grander. I formed my entire life philosophy over trying to protect people and perhaps even free them from the clutches of horrible oppression I was subjugated by. In a sick and twisted way, I’m glad I was dragged through the shadowy realms of trauma and authoritarian nightmares. The hate has never left me. The hate only grows as I meet more people like me, who in some cases had it even worse. The hate will never leave me until the beast is slain. Until we burn it to the goddamn ground. I have become an anarchist. But in a way, I’ve always been one. With the first thought of rebellion, which the watchful eye of Sauron tried to extinguish in me. In vain. I have never given in.
The first few years of my life, the formative, the most important fucking
years of a person’s life were absolutely horrible. Nightmare fuel. Painful. Riddled with trauma. Guilt, even. Poverty. Bullying. But I was… powerful.
So many things happened to me that I’m not even ready to talk about yet.
But finally, I’m able to at least start scratching the surface. It’s been gnawing at me, just burrowing under my brain and subconsciously controlling me like a puppet. Every time I would get angry, every time I
would get in a manic episode, or every time I would just kind of feel bad for no reason. The fog of the past. The fucking demons would come haunting me again. I would see the long cast shadow of the people that once used to be a very real terror in my life. Still be present, still cast a presence.
For me, it was continuous. There are specific events in my life of course, which messes me up the most. But I can’t exactly put my finger on any one thing. It was like the trauma itself was literally what formed me in
the first few years of my life. I was the fucking demon, for a long time.
I became a misanthrope. I hated other human beings, I wanted to be alone. But at the same time I would desperately grasp for any connection that I could find. Fortunately enough, I found some good friends. But that came later in life when I was already a little monster. Now, I’m trying to be better, open up to more people. I’d gladly take a bullet for any one of my close friends though. For now, that’s more than enough.
We would start a club. Losers club if you will. We’d meet at this little basement that belonged to one of our friends. We were geeks, gamers, hackers. Whatever label you want to use. But more importantly, we formed a misfit community. Right there in my hometown, in our hometown, the extremely conservative, right wing, shitty little nasty fucking horrible community full of the most unpleasant people I’ve ever had the unfortunate displeasure of meeting. Right in their faces blossomed a counter culture community. We’d meet up, do fun stuff. Occasional graffiti You know. Can’t say much more than that. Anarchist symbols, rocking LGBT pins everywhere around town. We became the local hope. At least it felt like it. At the very least, in the face of overwhelming odds, we were still able to build a beautiful community. We were as free as was possible at that time. All because we took it in our hands and made it a reality. Don’t write it off as childish and rebellious or “edgy” for the sake of being edgy. In the age of persecution, being brave enough to show your true colors is no small feat of incredible bravery. I for one, am proud.
That was the first step in rebellion. That was my first step towards freedom. And best of all. I started it. I fucking started it. You can too. Find like minded people. Inspire. Express who you are.
What it means to be.
I tried a new format with this one. Instead of just writing, I recorded and transcribed my voice into words. I usually just write stuff, but I’ve come to the realization that, sometimes my mind works faster than I can write. That’s a weird thing to say. I know. But really, some of the more profound things that I have had attributed to me, came from a deep conversation with other people. So why not converse with yourself? Or rather monologue I suppose.
I have never really had a voice. And I’m still not ready to put my own voice out there. So instead, I translate my thoughts into words, which you have to read yourself. Writing gives me time and can even alleviate some anxiety that comes from conversation. I have never in my life (until now, when I started actively working on it) voiced my opinion over the majority. Be it classmates, parents, superficial friends. Only people who knew the real me were and are my real friends. Ironically, I always had a lot to say. But I just didn’t. I struggled to find my own voice.
I want control. Control over what comes out of my mouth, out of my mind. Writing is great in the way that you can control the final product. You can format it and even erase past mistakes. But forget all that. This is mostly raw brain-vomit. I intended this to be that way. It’s coherent enough for you to understand everything intellectually and it’s raw enough that you can probably feel the kinds of emotions I’m going through as I recall some of the past horrors of a quiet life in a loud brain.
I just have this deep, deep rooted desire to finally be able to
express myself, because I feel like I haven’t been able to for the past 20
years of my life. I was born in a small, conservative community. I hated everyone there. I was afraid of everyone there. And I even thought about killing myself ever since I discovered as a child that you can in fact, die. I grew up there and I just couldn’t speak my mind, ever. It’d be heresy. Instead, I’d pick up these small little quirks that I would consider acts of rebellion. I’d skip Sunday church. I’d skip school. Little things like that. But when you have so little freedom, doing these things feel amazing. You rebelled, man. And you know what? I’m fucking proud of myself. I had the balls to get in occasional trouble. Always did. Always was a fighter. If you weren’t in a similar situation, I’m sorry I just can’t properly explain how it feels like. These little rebellious behaviors, slowly snowball into something greater, something grander. I formed my entire life philosophy over trying to protect people and perhaps even free them from the clutches of horrible oppression I was subjugated by. In a sick and twisted way, I’m glad I was dragged through the shadowy realms of trauma and authoritarian nightmares. The hate has never left me. The hate only grows as I meet more people like me, who in some cases had it even worse. The hate will never leave me until the beast is slain. Until we burn it to the goddamn ground. I have become an anarchist. But in a way, I’ve always been one. With the first thought of rebellion, which the watchful eye of Sauron tried to extinguish in me. In vain. I have never given in.
The first few years of my life, the formative, the most important fucking
years of a person’s life were absolutely horrible. Nightmare fuel. Painful. Riddled with trauma. Guilt, even. Poverty. Bullying. But I was… powerful.
So many things happened to me that I’m not even ready to talk about yet.
But finally, I’m able to at least start scratching the surface. It’s been gnawing at me, just burrowing under my brain and subconsciously controlling me like a puppet. Every time I would get angry, every time I
would get in a manic episode, or every time I would just kind of feel bad for no reason. The fog of the past. The fucking demons would come haunting me again. I would see the long cast shadow of the people that once used to be a very real terror in my life. Still be present, still cast a presence.
For me, it was continuous. There are specific events in my life of course, which messes me up the most. But I can’t exactly put my finger on any one thing. It was like the trauma itself was literally what formed me in
the first few years of my life. I was the fucking demon, for a long time.
I became a misanthrope. I hated other human beings, I wanted to be alone. But at the same time I would desperately grasp for any connection that I could find. Fortunately enough, I found some good friends. But that came later in life when I was already a little monster. Now, I’m trying to be better, open up to more people. I’d gladly take a bullet for any one of my close friends though. For now, that’s more than enough.
We would start a club. Losers club if you will. We’d meet at this little basement that belonged to one of our friends. We were geeks, gamers, hackers. Whatever label you want to use. But more importantly, we formed a misfit community. Right there in my hometown, in our hometown, the extremely conservative, right wing, shitty little nasty fucking horrible community full of the most unpleasant people I’ve ever had the unfortunate displeasure of meeting. Right in their faces blossomed a counter culture community. We’d meet up, do fun stuff. Occasional graffiti You know. Can’t say much more than that. Anarchist symbols, rocking LGBT pins everywhere around town. We became the local hope. At least it felt like it. At the very least, in the face of overwhelming odds, we were still able to build a beautiful community. We were as free as was possible at that time. All because we took it in our hands and made it a reality. Don’t write it off as childish and rebellious or “edgy” for the sake of being edgy. In the age of persecution, being brave enough to show your true colors is no small feat of incredible bravery. I for one, am proud.
That was the first step in rebellion. That was my first step towards freedom. And best of all. I started it. I fucking started it. You can too. Find like minded people. Inspire. Express who you are.
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Brought to life on September 25, 2023