attempts at living

to make a system out of delusions

Tag: space

The visible and the temporal

I share Steven Hickman’s concerns with Paulo Virno and Franco “Bifo” Berardi’s politics of exodus/withdrawal. Its essentially the same tactic that Hakim Bey’s temporary autonomous zone articulated in the 1990s; an intoxicated vision that is still appealing and perhaps necessary as a defensive position/conservation policy but that only really acts as a poetry of the social center, the squat, and the occupation. Viewed differently, from another angle, is also the textbook language of the psychdisciplines diagnostic and symptomological speech; the absence of poetry in the descriptions of depression, post-traumatic disassociation, schizophrenic alienation from the sensus communis of participatory meaning production. There is nothing inherently emancipatory in these conditions, the language for which is now transposed onto the political; a perverse justification of Bifo’s analysis of contemporary alienation of psychopathology.

Describing the TAZ, Hakim Bey writes that

FOUCAULT, BAUDRILLARD, ET AL. have discussed various modes of “disappearance” at great length. Here I wish to suggest that the TAZ is in some sense a tactic of disappearance. When the Theorists speak of the disappearance of the Social they mean in part the impossibility of the “Social Revolution,” and in part the impossibility of “the State”– the abyss of power, the end of the discourse of power. The anarchist question in this case should then be: Why bother to confront a “power” which has lost all meaning and become sheer Simulation? Such confrontations will only result in dangerous and ugly spasms of violence by the emptyheaded shit-for-brains who’ve inherited the keys to all the armories and prisons. (Perhaps this is a crude american misunderstanding of sublime and subtle Franco-Germanic Theory. If so, fine; whoever said understanding was needed to make use of an idea?) [1]

This is the primary way in which we ought to understand the temporary autonomous zone. It is ‘a tactic of disappearance’ that allows the insurgent, who has abandoned hopes for a social revolution, to evade the state. The revolution and the state having both become simulacra- although the armories and prisons still seem to be in operation, and violence still remains very real- it is naturally pointless to attempt to reckon with them. If such a reckoning, with its invocation of violence, meant direct armed struggle against the state then I couldn’t agree more that we ought to abandon that way of thinking; armed struggle, as opposed to revolutionary self-defense, has a history of bloody failure in Europe and North America, and to contemplate violence against the state is to already loss sight of the fact that the state manifests itself in such violence through the corporeal human bodies of the very people who radicals ought to seek to get on board. Elsewhere, Hakim also speaks of spectacular violence, the mediatised image of violence that reifies particular instances of political conflict into eternal images of Terror or deliquency. Again, it would be foolish to step willingly into these stereotypes.

Regardless of the falsity of the assumption that the state is a simulcrum and that power is mere simulation, neoliberal capitalism actually requiring a strong security state and an austerity commanding an open and largely uncontested exercise of power, the fact is that the TAZ is predicated on disappearance. Just as the state and power have ceased to exist as anything other than images, so we have ceased to exist. Yet it is at this point that Hakim Bey also states that the tactic of disappearance has a positive moment. The example given is the withdrawal from state school system and the positive re-articulation of that withdrawal in forms such as home schooling. Here, it is not so much that disappearance implies a ceasing to exist but, instead, that there is a vanishing from view. The body of the child in the school is countable and counted, can be disciplined and set into motion in the circulation of the post-Fordist network of economised existence. When the child’s body no longer appears within an element of this network at the proper time and at the proper place then the entire circulation is threatened. While Hakim’s suggestion is one I like (my partner and I intend homeschooling her son- most of the time), homeschooling does not escape a regime of visibility.

Having disrupted a certain distribution of the sensible it has, just as all strategies of refusal risk doing, invoked a recuperative redistribution. Here in the UK, homeschooling has been integrated into the state system to the extent that parent’s are required to inform the local school and council of their intentions; the council might then make informal inquiries about the form of education your child is receiving and, if they have concerns, will issue a ‘school attendance order’. Further to this, to evidence that your child will receive a good standard of education and that you aren’t just a lazy good for nothing, the state requires that parent’s produce an education philosophy. This involves a whole lot of research into educational philosophies and pedagogy for parents who are often not academically inclined, working part-time, and maintaining a household whilst doing the work of having a child with them whenever they are not working. In other words, if feminists correctly identify that affective labour has always been a component of women’s domestic labour then homeschooling requires that an added dimension of cognitive labour be extracted. There is also the fact that homeschooling is expensive and is, in the main, the preserve of the relatively affluent. Homeschooling is clearly not an option that enacts a tactic of disappearance anymore, if it ever was, and it also seems to be an option that the majority of people simply couldn’t take.

Moving on to another example, Hakim talks about the refusal of work. This is a tactic that I think is radical if we follow the reflections on it that the autonomists, the Metropolitan Indians, and, more recently, Kathi Weeks have taken. Hakim’s discussion of it amounts to the idea that

Refusal of Work can take the forms of absenteeism, on-job drunkenness, sabotage, and sheer inattention–but it can also give rise to new modes of rebellion: more self- employment, participation in the “black” economy and “lavoro nero,” welfare scams and other criminal options, pot farming, etc.–all more or less “invisible” activities compared to traditional leftist confrontational tactics such as the general strike. [2]

These are tactics that don’t seem particularly reflexive. Absenteeism, drunkenness, sheer inattention: these are behaviours that are likely to take any refusal of work into the realm of refusal of employment, opening one up to the prospect of poverty, malnutrition, and homelessness. Maybe this is a perfectly good tactic for young unencumbered people, it hardly seems like a they’d work out well as a mass tactic against capitalism. It also doesn’t take into account what kinds of jobs people are doing. Sure, if I work at a video game store or a call center I can partake of these options, but if I’m a nurse, or distribution driver, or some other socially necessary worker? Sabotage is a tactic that I would think would also land most people in the situation of joblessness, unless they were very good at not getting caught! (I used to work in a particularly scummy office and always had daydreams about performing some “human sabotage”: injecting the water cooler with strong laxatives. I never could get the nerve- or the callousness?- to do it; but the thought did help get me through the day). As to the other options, I don’t want or need to reiterate Marx’s position on the lumpen-proletariat. That said, I have always defended people who have scammed the benefit system but today that is simply not an option.

The point of going over these two social examples of Hakim’s ideas on the temporary autonomous zones is simply to point out that disappearance isn’t a very good strategy. There are other ways of thinking about the temporary autonomous zone (the Munich Republic is mentioned; as are raves, squats, and altered states of consciousness) but these are a couple of the examples of the TAZ being more than a personal adventure. It may sound like I am against the TAZ but on the contrary I find it a compelling account of one possible mode of reworking our relationships and challenging the dominant organisation of the temporalities and spatialisations of our lives. A TAZ can disconnect us from the temporality of production and can be enacted in places where our bodies are not supposed to congregate; they can be times and places of learning new ways to relate to each other; they offer us zones of deceleration and destimulation that might ameliorate some of the impacts of our accelerative culture and attentional economy and thereby enjoin politics with a non-depolitising therapeutics; and they can become points of coalescence around which debate and organisation can occur. They are not unimportant events.

TAZs are necessary elements of resistance but they don’t and can’t overcome capitalism. Indeed, the kind of hymns to invisibility that Tiqqun and the Invisible Committee make are precisely the upshot of this kind of thinking. In The Coming Insurrection, a text by the Invisible Committee that is intimately associated with Tiqqun, we are urged to ‘Stay invisible. Put anonymity on the offense'[3]. Invisibility and anonymity are watchwords of the kind of politics that The Invisible Committee thinks is necessary today:

To be visible is to be out in the open – that is, above all to be vulnerable. When the leftists of all nations continually make their cause more “visible” – whether that of the homeless, of women, or of immigrants – in the hope that it will get taken care of, they’re doing exactly the opposite of what they ought to. To not be visible, but rather to turn to our advantage the anonymity we’ve been relegated to, and with conspiracies, nocturnal and/or masked actions, to make it into an unassailable attack-position. [4]

Ironically, The Coming Insurrection is probably one of the most famous texts written by the radical left in some time, and the Tarnac 9 have likewise been given not a little limelight after one of their acts of sabotage. I am not suggesting that the Tarnac 9 were wrong to have sabotaged the train lines that were vital to the logistics of capital in France, just pointing out an amusing and unfortunate side-effect of violence is notoriety, not anonymity. More importantly than that, is the fact that this hymn to invisibility is predicated on two refusals: the refusal of vulnerability, and the refusal of visibility.
The issue of vulnerability is one that many other bloggers besides me have made a point of emphasis. It is an issue that requires a brief diversion but necessary diversion.

The turn to thinking about vulnerability is a way of rethinking politics altogether. It is a way of thinking about politics that follows from an ontological commitment to the primacy of the corporeal. Briefly, whatever exists, whatever is an affective being, exists as a body. I take this to be the fundamental contribution to philosophy made by the Stoics, and it is taken up again in modern philosophy by the phenomenologist of flesh Maurice Merleau-Ponty. Vulnerability names two aspects of bodies. First of all, it points to the condition of the openness, interwovenness, and interpenetration of bodies with one another. Under this condition we speak of corporealism as transcorporealism; bodies form intermatrices in conjunction, collaboration with, within, across, and despite other bodies. On the other hand, vulnerability also names the condition of being exposed to danger, disaster, injury, trauma, destruction and death. In this second instance we can think a range of specific vulnerabilities. I have touched on the idea of homelessness as a form of spatial vulnerability, and we can think of Marx’s analysis of capitalism as one of economic vulnerability, while psychiatry operates a lot of the time with a stress-vulnerability model of illness in which biological predispositions (vulnerabilities) to certain conditions may be triggered by social and existential conditions (stress). Ultimately, these vulnerabilities are carnal; they are vulnerabilities of the body that leave us exposed to that ultimate vulnerability: death.

In Precarious Life, Judith Butler asks, how is it that a collective can cope with the vulnerabilities that it is exposed to? She provides a pertinent answer for the current discussion when she suggests that

There is the possibility of appearing impermeable. Nothing about being socially constructed as women restrains us from simply becoming violent ourselves. And then there is the other age-old option, the possibility of wishing for death or becoming dead, as a vain effort to preempt or deflect the next blow. [5]

Butler will go on to discuss the commonality of bodily vulnerability, artificially limiting it to human bodies, but here she makes the argument that the desire for impermeability can take one of two forms: first, it can reproduce the violence done onto it, becoming the one who discloses and acts on the vulnerability of the other; or, secondly, it can emerge in the form of death or the dream of death. This tells us something about the invisibility recommended by The Invisible Committee. Like Hakim Bey, they want to disappear from the realm of spectacular violence. Unlike Hakim Bey, they want this to be the precondition of a denial of vulnerability. To be visible, they said, is to be vulnerable. Yet simply to exist is to be vulnerable. If The Invisible Committee were talking in terms of harm reduction, that is, of trying to reduce our exposure to vulnerability, then they might have a point. As it stands, I can’t help but read them as indulging in an idealism that thinks it can escape the condition of carnality through a tactic of disappearance (a move Hakim Bey would never have made). In discussing the events that followed 9/11 in the USA, especially in regards to its aggressive retributionist foreign policy, Butler goes on to note that this particular form of idealism has as its effect a kind of subjectivation that

seeks to produce itself as impermeable, to define itself as protected permanently against incursion and as radically invulnerable to attack. [6]

Butler rightly connects this to the logic of all nationalism and we could equally extend it to processes surrounding medical biotechnology, gated communities, and any kind of process of scapegoating. Indeed, in the work of Ernest Becker and the psychology of Terror Management Theory, it is the manipulation of one’s awareness of one’s ontological vulnerability that is often utilised in order to capture the state and/or win support for exclusionary and/or barbaric political parties and policies. Again, I see no reason not to extend this to almost all vulnerabilities. What was Hitler’s vision of a Reich that lasted a thousand years if not a dream of invulerability? Butler is right to suggest that

‘war seeks to deny the ongoing and irrefutable ways in which we are all subject to one another, vulnerable to destruction by the other…'[7]

and to identify this with Israel activities in Palestine and its security wall, effectively making it probably the world’s largest gated community.

I am not suggesting that The Invisible Committee is fascist or that it is in any way akin to Israel’s imperialist domination of it’s neighbor. That would be a hysterically overwrought. Instead, I am suggesting only that it is this delusion of invulnerability that The Invisible Committee is held enthralled to. In the case of The Invisible Committee rather than being a symptom of some latent fascism, this delusion is probably a kind of adolescent delusion. In fact, it might be a delusion that is particular to the adolescent male. I can remember being an adolescent and chain smoking happily, drinking stupidly, jumping off and into things, saying things sure to get my a kicking, taking substances I had no idea what they were, even throwing heavy objects into the air to see how much they’d hurt when they hit me on the head! I’m smiling thinking about it (that last one in particular), but we can see the logic at work. Death and serious injury don’t befall the young man; smoking doesn’t lead to cancer, and he could never become one of those alcoholics he derides; he won’t hurt himself, or if he does it’ll be a story; if he’s of a particularly nihilistic or depressive stripe (and I certainly was), he may even glory in his proximity to death and disease. In this ‘theory of a young man’ vulnerability is infinitely deferred as the condition of some other group, or else it is affirmed in a heroic disavowal of its reality.

I would suggest that The Invisible Committee and Tiqqun operate according to just such a “theory of the young man”. The young man withdraws into invisibility and thereby overcomes his vulnerability. His precariousness and precarity are superseded simply by disappearing from the gaze of the state and the diktats of capitalism. It is not the young man who is vulnerable, it is the homeless, the women, and the immigrants; groups who would do better to just keep out of the light, stay quite, and drop-out. I want to make an assumption that is probably unfair: for the young man the homeless should just think of themselves as partaking in the refusal of housing; immigrants should see themselves as refusing the national state; and women should think of themselves as…I’m not sure. On this point, we could remind The Invisible Committee that feminism and women’s struggle are fighting some pretty broad conditions from lower pay to a vast systematic and international trade in their flesh: the sexual market of rape. Drawing attention to this is making oneself too visible (a bad thing) and therefore too vulnerable (another bad thing). I think that it is less unfair to suggest that there is more than a hint of patriarchal attitudes underneath this formula. I am not the first to think that there might be some patriarchal assumptions at work in The Invisible Committee/Tiqqun’s work (cf. Nina Power’s review of Theory of a Young-Girl). And, as China Meiveille’s concept of unseeing brilliantly points out in The City and The City, many people are invisible because they are unseen, because people refuse to see them; including victims of state violence, when it chooses to look away.

In the adolescent delusion of the young man there is something about visibility provoking vulnerability itself. For the Invisible Committee, visibility is tied intimately with recognition. In the same passage as cited above, they continue to sing the praises of anonymity:

To be nothing socially is not a humiliating condition, the source of some tragic lack of recognition (to be recognized: but by who?), but on the contrary is the precondition for maximum freedom of action.[8]

I don’t want to seem like an uncool, unhip, ultra-theorist or anything, but could you imagine walking up to a trafficked sex worker, a homeless man having to degrade himself further to get into a shelter, or a psychiatric patient being refused basic dignities any other human being takes for granted, that they shouldn’t feel humiliated, that they are in fact free? I’m not suggesting that members of The Invisible Committee would actually do this, they don’t seem like stupid people. I can only put this down to being another symptom of the young man’s delusion. In fairness, they do state that to be “nothing socially” is the “precondition” of freedom rather than constitutive of freedom itself. Still, this is a bit like saying that being raped is the precondition for being sexually liberated. Of course, “to be nothing socially” is a reference to Marx’s early definition of the proletariat as

a class with radical chains, a class of civil society which is not a class of civil society, an estate which is the dissolution of all estates, a sphere which has a universal character by its universal suffering and claims no particular right because no particular wrong, but wrong generally, is perpetuated against it; which can invoke no historical, but only human, title; which does not stand in any one-sided antithesis to the consequences but in all-round antithesis to the premises of German statehood; a sphere, finally, which cannot emancipate itself without emancipating itself from all other spheres of society and thereby emancipating all other spheres of society, which, in a word, is the complete loss of man and hence can win itself only through the complete re-winning of man. This dissolution of society as a particular estate is the proletariat. [9]

In a sense then The Invisible Committee/Tiqqun are repeating Marx. Except that Marx doesn’t go so far as to see proletarianised existence as not being one that involves humiliation just because it is also the precondition for freedom. As Marx writes in his “Comments on James Mill”, under the credit system

Mutual dissimulation, hypocrisy and sanctimoniousness are carried to extreme lengths, so that on the man without credit is pronounced not only the simple judgment that he is poor, but in addition a pejorative moral judgment that he possesses no trust, no recognition, and therefore is a social pariah, a bad man, and in addition to his privation, the poor man undergoes this humiliation and the humiliating necessity of having to ask the rich man for credit.

Marx recognises that proletarianised existence is a humiliation and that it is humiliating. Even given this, the problem with visibility stands because to be visible is to demand recognition. In “Bloom Theory”, Tiqqun stake out a vision of a society of nihilism and detachment that many of us, in our darker moments, would share. It is also a world in which we are forced to cover-up the nothingness of ourselves through the wearing of masks. These ‘masked nothings’ are the identities each of us assumes; identities such as worker, student, father, citizen and so on. For Tiqqun

Being nothing, remaining outside all recognition, or presenting oneself as a pure, non-political individuality, is enough to make any man at all a being whose disappearance is uninscribable. However inexhaustible the obituary eulogies may be — eternal regrets, etc. — such a death is trivial, indifferent, and only concerns he who disappears; meaning, that is — in keeping with good logic — nobody. Analogous to his entirely private life, Bloom’s death is such a non-event that anybody can eliminate him. That’s why the expostulations of those who, sobs in their voices, lament the fact that Kip Kinkel’s victims “didn’t deserve to die” are inadmissible, because they didn’t deserve to live, either; they were outside the sphere of deservingness. To they extent that they found themselves in the hands of Biopower, they were already the living dead, at the mercy of any sovereign decision-making, whether that of the State or of a murderer.[10]

Here Tiqqun reiterates its agreement with Agameben’s frankly confused reading of the world as a concentration camp and of each one of us as an exemplar of homo sacer, the sacred man who may be sacrificed but who can’t be killed. Sacred Man, also referred to as bare or naked life, is the life that has been fully brought inside of the biopolitical order that constitutes itself as a zone of indistinguishability; always already somewhere between life and death. In such a situation recognition can only ever be the recognition of the sovereign. Thus, preferring to escape such a total subsumption of the corporeal under the sovereign’s power, Tiqqun and The Invisible Committee advocate simply not appearing. All that is left is to withdraw and, as Butler suggests, to play dead.

Visibility, appearing to power, seems to thus be fundamentally about the production of identities that the Blooms of this world must wear; masks that give us the appearance of a stabilised, substantial being but which elide the facts. It is for this reason that earlier in The Bloom Theory, Tiqqun state that all recognition is ‘recognition in and therefore of the spectacle’. Not only are we fully captured by the biopolitical regime but we are also fully immersed within the totally integrated spectacle. To be visible, to appear, is always to be visible within and therefore as the forces of domination, as one fraction of it set against another fraction of it, but fundamentally knowable, containable, and disarmed ahead of time.

This does not accord with the experience of activists or with the confused coverage of recent events. Since Tiqqun wrote these texts, there has been a student movement, a series of riots, the emergence (and yes, waning) of Occupy, a series of occupations, and public parties in the street. No one is suggesting these projects have become a coherent mass revolutionary movement, but they have challenged the picture of a totally invulnerable capitalist order. Instead, we have seen a certain distribution of the sensible challenged. Indeed, if the recent beginnings of a rewakening of the left have been anything then they have been a way of contesting temporalities, spatialities, and therefore also of visibilities. Tiqqun and The Invisible Committee tackle visibility as a unilateral and binary phenomena: either you appear or you disappear; either you enjoy spectacular visibility or you engage in invisibility. We might ask invisibility to whom, and to what? Invisibility at what time? This is to think tactically, and to recognise that any politics is going to involve a certain coordination of visibilities, or the carnal overlapping and interfolding of the visible and the invisible. It seems as though there is a kind of conflation going on between different kinds of visibility and the liberal quest for the recognition of identities. Yet, even among ourselves, those of us who read Tiqqun and might participate in temporary autonomous zones, must recognise one another. If not, then Tiqqun’s is going to be a lonely undertaking.

More interestingly, Paulo Virno discusses withdrawal as an exodus. When asked if he means a simply flight from the city or the factory or whatever location you’re in, he replies

No, I am not referring necessarily to a territorial exodus, but rather to desertion in one’s own place: the collective defection from the state bond, from certain forms of waged work, from consumerism. Some authors, like Albert Hirschman, affirm that sometimes in protests, the voices don’t manage to reach a change and are then only able to leave the game, run away. For that it is not only necessary to destroy certain things but also to construct, to have a positive proposal, so that exodus will no remain a solitary act.[11]

A desertion in one’s own place. In another interview Virno states that

By exodus was understood as a radical politics that does not want to construct a new state. In the end, it is only that and, then, is far from the model of the revolutions that want to take power, to construct a new state, a new monopoly of political decision; to the contrary, it is – in every case – to defend power, not to take power and, also the things that you said yesterday when you were speaking on the university – of the richness of relations – this positivity of experience as something that later deserves to be defended but that, in the meantime, should be [seen as] something already constructed in terms of sociability, productive relations, knowledges, networks of our part. [12]

So this desertion in one’s own place is a political desertion; a desertion of the political politics of those revolutionaries that seek to capture the state apparatus but, in its notable absence, this also implies that it is not the anti-politics of those who would seek to smash the state. There is also a sense in which, as it refers not to a taking leave of a space, a particular form of nomadism in which one does not have a place to take leave of except one’s own; and one’s own space is always the spatiality of the body.

Franco Berardi also speaks in this language when he states that he wants

To call forth a big wave of withdrawal, of massive dissociation, of desertion from the scene of the economy, of nonparticipation in the fake show of politics.[13]

Steven Hickman notes that these positions are all idealist. Yet it isn’t just that they are idealist it is also that it is a language a language of retreat. Even if we agree that the state isn’t what we want to win, is our imagination so impoverished that the state is the only way that we could think about taking power? Even the idea of living in the cracks isn’t as easy it was when Hakim Bey wrote the first treatment of disappearing. As Simon Critchley has discussed we need to produce the interstices that we can then occupy:

politics is the praxis of taking up distance with regard to the state…an internal distance that must be opened from the inside…[because] there is no distance within the state. [14]

I think that this is a worthwhile strategy if they it isn’t meant to be a withdrawals but an opening, a very visible opening, that tend to the creation of new publics. This is essentially what Occupy was, for a time, in its contesting of the distribution of the sensible and the coming together of bodies; they were also, temporary and partial no doubt, cleavages in the temporality of production- a kind of political economic strike. That thought, the thought of a combined political economic moment, is leading me to look at the traditions of council communism and anarchosyndicalism in more depth. These are traditions that emerge within and against the state as openings in the place where one already is: at work. Of course today, work time is all time, so the question would be whether or not something like councils and revolutionary unions could be established in places, until post-Fordist recomposition, were not considered workplaces. If all time is work time, and all places are work places then why not a mother’s union? why not a service worker’s council? why not a homeless union? As long as these unions are taken up as spaces within and against the state. The strength of these two neglected traditions is that they are a kind of desertion in one’s own place; they both support strikes (as either general or mass strikes) and neither of them involve a throwing off of the vast material ‘worldwide distribution systems of goods and services networks’. Instead they call for the self-management of these material networks in order to re-craft our relationship to production and to one another in a way that acknowledge the necessity of forms of visibility and seeks to find strength in the affirmation of our vulnerability.

[1] Hakim Bey. The temporary autonomous zone: the will to power as disappearance. Here.
[2] Ibid.
[3] The Invisible Committee. The Coming Insurrection. Here. p.49.
[4] Ibid.
[5] Judith Butler. Precarious Life: the powers of mourning and violence. p.42.
[6] Judith Butler. Frames of War. p.47.
[7] Ibid. p.43.
[8] Op. cit. The Invisible Committee.
[9]. Karl Marx. 1844. Comments on James Mill: Éléments D’économie Politique. Here.
[10] Tiqqun. Bloom Theory. Homo Sacer/Sacred Man. Here.
[11] Paulo Virno. Between disobedience and exodus. Here.
[13] Franco ‘Bifo’ Berardi. Political therapy. Here.
[14]. Simon Critchley. Infinitely demanding: ethics of commitment, politics of resistance. [hardback] p.113.

Squatting and homeless

A few posts back I suggested that this might be the time for squatter rights to be reasserted. It seems my finger inadvertently caught the pulse of something: here is a petition to repeal the criminalisation of squatter’s rights in the UK. While such parliamentarian pressure campaigns are limited and co-optable, it seems silly to ignore them. I don’t think you have to be a UK citizen to sign?

Hijack, Reclaim, Occupy!

Introducing the Emergent Service Workers Party

“When we demanded an end to wage labour, we didn’t just mean the wages!”

From people being forced to stack shelves in Poundland for free, through to office workers pushing their hours later and later, our wages no longer reflect our work.

The casino banks are being bailed out with our money, the corporations dodge their tax, our services are cut and we’re forced to work even more for even less.

Emergent service workers of the world unite!

The Haymarket martyrs died demanding an 8 hour paid working day. When was the last time any of us managed that?

When we’re not being blackmailed into slave labour for Homebase or Poundland, we’re burning the midnight oil working after hours for free. Every waking hour we check our emails, quickly responding to that memo from HR, or finishing off that report before the morning meeting.

Google and their ilk blur our work into our free time, we’re on call 24 hours a day, but no more!

Demand that the corporate internet is shut down at 6pm!
Unplug corporate gmail, spam filter that shite till the morning!
While we’re at it, demand that google pay some bloody tax too!

The eSWP will be launching this mayday.
A political party in the truest sense of the word!

Watch this space and join us to down tools at 6pm, Wed May 1st
The official mayday after party

Please forward this link to your friends and family.
Sign up to be a Space Hijacker
Follow us on twitter @spacehijackers

Take the BBC test, what class are you?

The spacejackers can be found here.

Spatial awareness; a call to re-activate squatter rights

It seems I am not the only person who thinks the time is ripe for a new squatter movement. I’d go one further and say that the conditions have made it not only thinkable to the mass of people in urban areas, but perhaps for a good deal even necessary. Of course, the right to squat has itself to be established rather than given if it is to be political, and if it is to be the act of an enraged citizenry.

A comment on urban struggle and recomposition

‘The first mass influx will begin over the next few months as an estimated 40,000 families affected by the Benefit Cap will be forced to seek housing outside the capital. This is only likely to be the beginning however as soaring rents and shrinking benefits could mean soon almost all private sector tenants on benefits will be priced out of the capital. Hundreds of thousands of claimants could soon be making a move to Surrey, Buckinghamshire, Hertfordshire, Berkshire and Kent over the next few years’. (Jonny Void. Here.

Not only does this exo-urban migratory flow seem to be entirely in keeping with the inner city’s gentrification, although these two operations are probably not coupled by intentional design, a strategic operation emerges on the part of capital and the neoliberal state that seeks to recompose it. This neoliberal recomposition of capital is being met with a recomposition of urban space by an attack on the working class. This is to say, echoing Murray Bookchinm, David Harvey and Paul Virilio, that the city is a sight of class struggle (whether that struggle articulates itself in those terms or not). The ‘right to the city’ is the right to space, to this space, and it is a demand that provides a kind of linking-up (I’m thinking about workers, unemployed, disabled claimants, but also about the homeless who, in cities like Edinburgh, are under attack simply of existing in the wrong space). On the issue of homelessness, is there any kind of homeless union? At the same time, again in agreement with David Harvey, this shows a poverty of thought in relation to those strands of anticapitalism that make calls for dropping out of the city (cf. Tiqqun, in a certain sense Franco ‘Bifo’ Berardi as well- the city doesn’t ‘slow down’, although it might have “decelerative zones”) play directly into the hands of the plutocratic-oligarchic class. The material contestation of space might involve an intensification of the Occupy movement’s strategy. If you are threatened with eviction, that is if your spatial vulnerability is exposed and attacked, then what do you have to lose exactly? The Occupy movement might become another form of squat movement:

What squatters seek, and have always sought, is security of tenure, and indeed personal security. However, there has been a marked deterioration in the public mood which enabled local authorities in the 1940s and again in the 1960s and 1970s to make creative deals with squatters, but in the 1990s led central government, relying for support on what it saw as the self-protective instincts of a property-owning democracy, to adopt policies which have had the effect of criminalising them’.

(Colin Ward, 2004. The hidden history of housing. Here.).

Ward says that squatting can be ideological and/or pragmatic. Clearly in the Occupy movement as a Squatting movement is would be both simultaneously, and it would exceed the demand for security of tenancy but would also call for the security of the ability to occupy certain spaces as such. A city like London is built on the historical labour of workers, in terms of wealth and in the sense that so much of it’s materiality is the dead labour of workers, and (“the city is not itself”- Virilio) continues to be exist in a phase space produced by the ongoing labour of construction workers and cognitive workers (architects and so on). A city like London, my home city, a city that I hate and miss in often equal measure, could be the perfect place for a wave of squat actions. Now that we are revealed as the precarious class (“the 99%”) I would think that the public would be less inclined to see squatters as parasites and crusties.

A step too far to consider at the moment, but why not: the exodus of claimants and the homeless (who are really one figure, right? one is just latent while the other is manifest), have another member of their chain that naturally calls out to them. I am writing about the travelers who are still, even in the current episode of the crisis, scapegoated and seen as a illegitimate, a menace, an mobile ecological disaster (and yet urban planning has produced the primary agent of mobility not as bodies, not public transportation networks, but the car; indeed, cities still thrive on the road networks that connect them together as material-logistical veins of the flow of material goods, so perhaps even more than the car or the 4×4 it is the articulated lorry that is the principle object of the inter-urban infrastructure).

In pointing to the traveler community I am not pointing to an ally, and ally who at the moment still appears as an enemy to the sedentary populace. To be clear, I am not wanting to suggest a tactic of urban nomadism, which would only be a way of living open to a small number of people without jobs or dependents and thus might amount to little more than adventurism. In the end, the tactic of urban nomadism is atactical because it all too often appears as a lifestyle choice or out of necessity; it is either an experiment in living that is not open to all latent homeless people or it is a reactive coping mechanism that capital impels people to take up. We can list the modalities that urban nomadism takes: car living, couch surfing, temporary homes, sleeping rough, and, in a city like London, the kind of accomodation supplied by the towering Center Point. Couch surfing is an intriguing phenomena because it is a sort of dual-urbanism of the megapolis, the urbanism of the multi-nodal network of cities connected by road, flight paths and airports, sealines, ferries, tankers, and ports: a whole material-logistical ontocartography of a city beyond any particular territorialisation (a city more of movement and speed than stasis and sedation). Of course, the accusation of adventurism shouldn’t be extended to travelers.

Indeed, this points even further to those who are involved in the urban regime of spatiality, those cognitive workers who are active in the production of urban space. Take for example the Spatial Agency project that speak in:

Bruno Latour’s terms, critical attention is shifted from architecture as a matter of fact to architecture as a matter of concern. As matters of fact, buildings can be subjected to rules and methods, and they can be treated as objects on their own terms. As matters of concern, they enter into socially embedded networks, in which the consequences of architecture are of much more significance than the objects of architecture.

and which wants to move

away from the figure of the architect as individual hero, and replaces it with a much more collaborative approach in which agents act with, and on behalf of, others.

So here there is another potential ally. The Spatial Agency project is a fantastic resource, one that more people should know about and which we could benefit from some time reading.

Perhaps this sounds like a call for an insurrectional movement in the sense that Saul Newman, taking the word from Max Stirner, gives it:

What was striking in Occupy was the absence of the usual modes of communication and representation. There were no demands, no programs, and no revolutionary blueprints, just the coming together of singularities without anything in common apart from a desire to create new relations and subjectivities. The mode of communication, on the contrary, was completely innovative, decentralized, and gestural. Lastly, there was no party, no centralized leadership, no form of representatives, no Lenin waiting in the wings to take over state power. Those times are over. The vanguard has fallen from its privileged place in revolutionary politics. It’s completely defunct. This is the time not of revolution, but of insurrection, the creation of autonomous spaces and relations and new collective intensities. Occupy gives a glimpse of the possibilities of the insurrection today. Here.

Yet this is collection of singularities is precisely a liberal formation of pre-existent individuals that have come together as a in Stirner’s union of egoists. It is a collectivity rather than a community. This is to say that it is the mirror of the capitalism that it seeks to resist (did it dare think it could overcome it?). Regardless of this philosophical point, there is the practical one that- and against Newman’s later comment from the same text about the lack of a ‘Lenin waiting in the wings to take over state power’, there was reportedly no real organisation either. The self-organised form of the Occupy movement would have proved inadequate to the task of building anything out of the wreckage of the crisis of capitalism. Let’s be clear on this if on nothing else: the focus on urbanism implies that we do require some kind of Lenin, if not Leninism, because this is a huge undertaking. We can’t think about organising in the style of bolo’bolo, the totally impractical idea of radical localism. It isn’t enough that singularities ‘with nothing in common’, which is itself a piece of neoliberal propaganda (indeed, it is how the logic of scapegoating travelers works), is the kind of thinking we need to do away with. Newman calls Occupy a “post-identity politics” and then seeks to lump class warfare into “identity politics”, when the point of the proletariat is precisely its radical dissolution of identitarian and substantialist models of political thinking. Why is he making this argument now, as class division begins to emerge once again as the all too obvious structural partition of the distribution of the sensible? In part because his career as a postanarchist means that he is committed to an abandonment of the desire for (rather than tabooing of the term) of revolution and to the kind of radical individualism that Max Stirner inaugurates as an idealist form of freedom. Actual freedom is defined by Stirner in precisely liberal terms, and he is looks upon it with indifference and even disdain. Not even the Stoics, with their emphasis on equanimity, jettisoned the political in the same way that Stirner did. It is this thought that there is nothing in common- and why not, following Lingis, ask if this isn’t exactly what we have in common- that has prevented us from developing beyond spectacular protest. This is precisely what is shifting. There are calls for the inaugeration of a new party of socialism, a reinvigorated anarcho-syndicalist movement, and the return to openly talking in terms of communism and anarchism. The prefix of “post-” is precisely what needs to be abandoned. As Chris Cutrone puts it in his Platypus article, ‘The relevance of Lenin today’

the people—the demos—seem resigned to their political powerlessness. Indeed, forming a political party aiming at radical democracy, let alone socialism—a “Jacobin” party—would itself be a revolutionary act.

Saul Newman represents what has variously been post-anarchism, neoanarchism, ‘the new anarchists’, and the anarchist ethics of infinite responsibility. Slavoj Zizek has called it hypertical protest, and others (more and more myself included) are coming to see it as a form of liberalism that has to be exceeded within the problematic of communist organisation. The idea that insurrection is opposed to revolution, or that we are living in an age beyond revolution is already to buy into a very specific discourse on what revolution means, and who carries it out. In fact, it is to speak in the language of what would once have been called counter-revolutionary terms. Similarly, Simon Critchley has stated that

Politics is perhaps no longer, as it was in the so-called anti-globalization movement, a struggle for and with visibility. Resistance is about the cultivation of invisibility, opacity, anonymity, and resonance.

The struggle for visibility remains vitally important to the homeless of cities like Edinburgh, as it does for a great many people. Occupy itself is about cultivating a form of urban visibility and about the visibility of the nature of space and the identification of real live people and institutions in space-time-matter. That much is obvious from the fact that Occupy is not simply the occupation of anywhere but of named places; Occupy Wall Street, Occupy Sussex, and so on. In the conditions today we are forced to accept a tactical openness, I believe the conditions we find ourselves in demand such a stance, but it does demand a stance nonetheless. Pure mobility and absolute withdrawal are, in actuality, the image of recession to the private sphere that liberalism has long been held to; we will gather publicly, but we are isolated and private individuals. Against this, Occupy involved the production of publics that, could they cohere and become ‘a city within the city’ (in Richard Seymour’s formula), would have also formed municipalities:

There is every reason to believe that the word anarchism, with its historic commitment to the confederation of municipalities — the famous “Commune of communes” — is in [the hyterical liberals] eyes completely “utopian” and that she merely hijacks the word to add color and pedigree to her simplistic [protest movement] — a world that, by her own admission to me, she personally knows little about. (Murray Bookchin, A meditation on the ethics of anarchism. Here.

What was Occupy and what are the continued occupations (Sussex University) if they aren’t a conflict of regimes of time-space-matter? Bodies organised in space, tied to it, holding it, producing it as a public and political space, and thereby returning an embodied gaze on the disembodied gaze of the financial infosphere. The demand of the international citizenry is that those responsible take responsibility. This means locating them in space and thereby contesting spatiality. To use the internet, the mobile phone, the screen in order to do so is merely to weaponise the technologies of the illuminationism attempts to abolish publicity and politics. The tactic of occupation remains open and might well be accelerated. Could there even be cross-occupations? Mass occupations? This is crucial, it is the crucial move, but it is also the beginning that be radicalised. To risk dialectical language, it must be sublated in a movement of aufheben. The urban struggle, the struggle in, with, and for the city is an ancient one. It is what was at stake in the demos of Greece, and it is what is at stake again in a renewal of class struggle and communism. Quite against a certain thought, a thought that the militarisation of urban space is anything new, we should recall that the city has its history in military thought. That is to say, we have always been, in a shifting manner and under different contexts and for different reasons, been sunk in a military space. Class war is not simply rhetoric. Today it is more visible than it has been for a long time. It demands that we stop singing hymns to the power of powerlessness, to parody, to irony, to hysteria, that we rediscover the potency of the organisation of bodies and the articulation of demands.

a poem on commercial space

The Overgate Centre. Dundee. Named for history. Named for what is done with. Left behind. Two levels. Debenhams. Starbucks. Gap. Argos. And so on. Competing sects. Multiplying denominations. If shopping centres are secular Cathedrals, if they keep a lurking fascism, they are curiously without death.

Death is banished from airconditioned space. There is only the flow of bodies. There is only the rotation of stock. Seasons. Autumn/Winter. Summer/Spring. Simplified and cyclical time. Ancient time. No clocks.

Check the walls. Anonymous coridoors. Security office. Somewhere among these places is a defibrilator. Modest and mobile. Just enough of a shock. Or in the corner. Waiting silent on a wall. You cannot die here. Do your dying out of sight. Have some respect and do your dying at home. Its a private matter. Be sure to take something home with you.

September 11th 2001. Why those towers? Finance. Capital. Greed. Power and clout. The pretence of perfect innocence. Colonial headquarters. A symbol.

A fundamental misunderstanding. Students of the West, mistaken. An erroneous mathematics of late modernity’s heart. A cause and effect ever so slightly askew. Had the terrorist known his enemy how much worse that event might have been. Had he known us he would have struck our shopping centres. New York. Macy’s. Tiffany’s. Barney’s. Something. One of them. All of them.

Who is denying the horror? The senselessness of those deaths. An engineering of murder. The mechanics of National Mourning. Rage and trauma. But of course she fought. America and her allies stretched across the world.

But it wasn’t the truth. The psychic collapse comes from psychic targets. Paralysis comes from the severing of nerves. Cellular Spirit toxicology. Destroy our malls amd we would stand slack and unresponsive. Muscle atrophy. Reason set aside. Animal instinct ruins. We’d go to work, unsure of why. We’d go home, climb into bed and slowly and quietly die.

You can die of heartbreak. Imagine that. Imagine dying of loss. Grief poisoning the blood stream. Sadness crushing the trachea. Emptiness flooding the lungs like mustard gas. Separation shuddering the heart into arrest.

Imagine it. Picture it. Picture youself. Picture your child. Your lover. Your parents. Clutching at a total despair, gasping for breath. Reference and information. Doctors in the bedroom. Surgeon’s pulling out their hair. Rictus. The worst heart ache you ever knew. Enlarged. Consuming. Cancerous immateriality. Menace. Toxic particles in the air. Everyone inhaling. Mass hysteria gives way to mass neglect. Neglect of the soul. A giving up. Primordial soup of boredom and angst and despondency and resignation. Primodial soup in the survivors aching towards a new arrangement, a physiology of the soul. A new humanity. Who would we be?

Concession stands. Escalators. River Island. An affirmation: I’m loving it. Irony is all knowing looks. An illicit lover spurned before those assembled. Once everyone looks away a stolen kiss. An entanglement of bodies. A frenzied mess of swollen flesh. Costa. Next. Elevators. People watching from the mezzanine. Disabled access. A small concession. Can’t we imagine them bag in hand and fury? Swarm of Sunday best and plastic bag and price tag and label turning on the wheelchair bound? How dare you bring fragments of death into this place?! And a bloody mess. A pulped thing. Cleaned up swiftly. No blood trace. Carry on. All lingerie half price.

And yet its just disavowal. Exactly as the fascists of history. Railroads. Gas Chambers. Rendered fat. Didn’t one German say it thus: “we have industrialised death”. An industry protected from all recessions. Sweatshop labour. Slavery. Wages below the cost of living. Toxic telepathy. Muzak gnawing away at depth. Fabrics harvested from a plundered earth. Reality remodelled. Everything inorganic. Pulverised. White. Images of contorted bodies inspiring sickness and obsession.

Death is in the foundations. It is the electricity for the lighting. The hum you think is traffic beyond the walls. And they’re caked in it too. Its leaks on to the floor- Caution! Wet Floor. The black magic of every transaction. Death percolates in coffee glasses, fast food chains, exudes from faux-marble walls. What Socrates produced by this Agora?

Black magic. Terror. But we enjoin to prayer. Flock to be nourished and secure. An affirmation: Have it your way! Another: Enjoy the real thing! And so it goes.

Our heritage of genius: death erected to shroud us from death. We are safe here. We are full here. This is the sacrament. Body of Christ and the credit cards. Here is salvation. What shopping centre ever had a funeral directors?

Our minds form from the angles in the architecture. Our souls warp when meeting sham classical columns. Its a cult. Its a death cult. We give ourselves as offerings. Not so much a question of morality but survival. Could we go on now without these glass and chrome cathedrals? The heart of the city. The bridge shattering urban and rural divides. We will never be lost again. We are found. A crackling voice call to you- “would you please meet your party at the information point”.

Huge clear windows. Vast echoing spaces. Altars dotted here and there. This is the mode of our new living. Perceptual aparatus on a knife edge excitation. Psychic mesh in ecstatic convulsion. Voodoo. Animation. A vision of the earth like this. Whole cities. Boulevards. Streets. The forest is an experience shop. Buy an afternoon sitting in the sunshine. All vegetation plastic and in little boxes. And something else: no sex. As if life too was banished. Too messy. Too unpredictable. Too much deviation from the opening hours established. A sort of tranced existence. A kind of transcendence. Nothing left to confess.