Verseuchung, anarchist journal, #0 and #1
From Act for freedom now!
Verseuchung, in German means Infestation, contamination, Infection
EDITORIAL ISSUE 0 :
We cannot save someone. No one can. Likewise we cannot really liberate others.
This forest (a living being) cannot be saved, it will either survive, even though profoundly changed or it will die, asphyxiated by the deadly vapours of this world.
For sure it cannot be saved by their legislations and their technology, but I suspect neither it can by us living here now. And it is not about saving it either. Not that I will not mourn if this forest dies. I will mourn the oak I’ve been living in, and this mourning will become anger added to the flames burning against this world, thirst added to my need for vengeance.
I don’t want this forest to die. But I’m not here to save it. And I want even less that it becomes the crystallized, unmoving and unsurprising version of itself they are proposing. Their least bad options, their grey survival elevated to life in the “best world possible”, their never-ending youth and refusal of death and life… this is no saving, this is a destiny maybe worse than Death itself.
A dead forest is a monument to human alienation, but a “preserved” one would be just one of their technological appendices, a jungle of statistics, assessments and authority rather than unearthed desires, sensibilities and joy. Not the warm refuge for those who fight against this existence, nor the thousand possibilities and discoveries, nor the precious moments of complicity, nor the dark living maze feared or exalted in the imagination of those who live nearby…
A plantation of trees is no forest, and to their preservation in this form of altered survival, I’d rather see this forest crashing into the reefs!
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EDITORIAL ISSUE 1
We grope in the pyramids of power. Everywhere, around us, the signs of a world that wants to last forever, that wants to make of itself the emblem of the highest that has ever been created by human beings. No, it cannot be this sycophantic repetition of itself without any horizon of an end what we put at the base of a desire for radical and irreparable rupture. The biological world, from which we come from but that is more and more foreign to us, reminds us in every moment that it is rather the becoming what on which reality is founded upon. Exorcising of finitude and removal of death are just palliatives in front of the unknown. And the flight from doubts and uncertainty serves only those who want to fund religions and powers, to hand out answers, not those who want to embrace unpredictability taking on the risks of freedom. To ensure one’s own future, to make it certain and predictable. Sure, this is the world in which we live and the way we were taught. But, right because of it, shouldn’t it be an alarm bell? We are certain of our survival by eschewing risk.
As long as we secure our struggles in the inconsistency of their conflictuality, postponing it to an hypothetical future, or when we crystallize our spaces, that were born pulsating in the breaking of gates and regulations and the unpredictably iron limits of the law. To legalize and to reproduce. To ascertain one’s own future, one’s own persistence.
At the same time, the becoming cannot start being the favourite easy excuse for the flourishing of opinions. Coherence becomes an immobilizing moral string, that traps us in dogma and incapacity of imagining and putting in place forms of struggle. Its critique should not, anyhow, create confusion between the simplistic grayness of bar chatters and the blazing clarity of the Idea. Like ethics is something else, also the thought that becomes action – and viceversa – has nothing to do with what we tell our self to ease our conscience before putting ourself to bed. It is always about, at the end, the distinction between quality and quantity.
Unfortunately it is not easy to accept the solitude and the incommunicability that certain choices, today like in the past, mean. We perceive every gap as incandescent against our skin. The Promethean one with the Technical System and its poisonous fruits; the organizational one with the Capital and its capacity to mould its defeats and its failures in occasions of perpetual relaunch; the one with the strength of the State and its servants. And yet it is not about, once more, putting ourselves on the same level. Symmetry kills fantasy. We need to start from the acceptation of our limits and of our fallibility to find a way to look our conscience in the eyes without feeling ashamed. We need to stop fooling ourselves and to start knowing ourselves as weak and fragile. Who did we become? Caricatures of guerrilla fighters overwhelmed by occidental well-being? But the toughness of life is elsewhere and elsewhere is to be looked for without concealing it with masks and pretensions, knowing that doubt can never abandon us. And it should never.
Because there cannot be a twinkling more inviting than our own self, otherwise we are just stuffing ourselves with our same lies built with the quantitative leftovers of Dominion. The will, the stubbornness, the renunciation, can be reinvented. Not the christian one, but that of the Ideal, of wanting to live at every cost – here and now – the joy of the uniqueness of our lives. That we need to accept as ephemeral and unpredictable. Enjoy. Every instant.
“As a liberator I am a disappointment. To be disappointed is myself. I conduct my anarchist idea of freedom along steep routes, where the urgency is other, not that of the straight way I had dreamt of. It is urgency of survival, of not letting yourself be submerged and suļ¬ocated, of not being slaughtered at the corner of a dark alley of a way in the desert, a whatever track obviously not lightened. Urgency of equipping oneself materially and psychologically to shoot faster and better than the others, of the enemy”
A.M.B. – The Unexpected Guest
