Originally posted to Cutting Class

Over the next few days, we’ll be publishing pieces to highlight the work of some of the groups participating in the Cutting Class counterinfo network. We hope this will provide some clarity on where our crews are coming from and how that affects the way we have organized this project.

We also hope that these interview questions can provide a template for other autonomous groups to distill a collective understanding of their context and projects. If your crew finds these questions useful, write up a summary of your conversations and send them our way as a form of introduction! Cutting Class can be your platform, and we’d love to publish an interview with your crew and start collaborating—not just around CC but also with any other projects that these introductions might incite!

Today’s featured crew is the Filler collective from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

Introduce your crew: what are some projects you working on, how long have you been around, where are you based, etc etc.

Filler PGH is a zine distro and counterinfo crew currently based in Pittsburgh. We’re basically just an informal collective of punks and writers who run a distro and claim the name Filler whenever it’s convenient.

Filler started in 2012 as a punk/hardcore fanzine, but has since grown into a platform for local anarchist scenes to share news, analysis, and other counterinfo. We write, design, and distro our own zines, and we usually table with cool zines from other projects too. You can visit our pdf archive and read or print our zines here. Our three most widely-distributed zines are The Relevance of Max Stirner to Anarcho-Communists, Destroy Gender, and For a University Against Itself.

Most of us currently go to / have graduated from the University of Pittsburgh, and so a lot of the content we get is affiliated with the autonomous student network and other youth crews. That being said, we’ve been actively trying to make the project relevant/useful for anarchists outside of the campus bubble.

The current crew of Filler kids are also individually involved with other local projects: The Big Idea Infoshop, Nightshade, and the Steel City Autonomous Movement infrastructure crew. Oh, and one of us is an admin of Post-Left Memes: Or How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love Monsieur Dupont.

The Big Idea is an anarchist collective that provides space for exploring radical ideas and putting them into action. The collective aims to foster a culture of resistance and mutual aid that celebrates individual and collective autonomy. Plus we have coffee and free wifi.

SCAM is a relatively new project that grew out of conversations between individuals from the Big Idea collective and the (now-defunct) Pittsburgh Student Solidarity Coalition. SCAM is not an organization, it’s just the name for a specific (1) autonomous forum, (2) social media platform, and (3) anarchist network – meaning that anyone who participates can use the SCAM “brand” to suit their own project’s purposes. The forum uses a spokescouncil model that’s meant to be a space of encounter to encourage mutual aid and coordination, and is in no way a decision-making body.

Nightshade is a two–year–old anarcha-feminist collective dedicated to providing physical, digital, and written safer spaces for women and queer people, as well as engaging in direct action against the heteropatriarchy. Nightshade collective members hold monthly meetings and at least one community event per month. This month, Nightshade is hosting a benefit party to raise money for Survived and Punished—a collective that supports people wrongfully incarcerated for protecting themselves against domestic abuse. Not all community events are parties. Last month, Nightshade hosted two events—a reading of “The Secret Joy of Accountability” by Shannon Perez-Darby from the zine-turned-book, “The Revolution Starts at Home” and a facilitated discussion called ’Let’s Talk About Sex… Work’ to initiate conversations about sex work from a feminist perspective.

What are some challenges you’ve faced (internal or external)?

Pittsburgh anarchyland is currently recovering from some serious repression and burnout. Over a year of consistent militant actions resulted in ~30 felony arrests. Two comrades served several months in prison (hit us up if you want to throw some $$$olidarity their way) and a few more are still tied up in legal battles. By the summer of 2017, state repression dovetailed with existing internal tensions, and the subsequent burnout was real.

In the coming weeks, Filler will be publishing a longer piece(s) about this through several projects, including Cutting Class. Here’s an *ahem* exclusive sneak peak:

“2018 marks five years since the resurgence of an autonomous radical youth movement at Pitt, three years since the Pittsburgh Student Solidarity Coalition officially began flying black flags, two years since the organizations and crews affiliated with the autonomous student scene posed a real collective challenge to the populist-left’s monopoly on dissent, and over one year since the first coordinated Disorientation Week.

That first Disorientation Week sparked the brief and brilliant dumpster fire we refer to as “the” autonomous youth scene: a transient (yet genuine) expression of a collective “we.” At times, it felt like it was our first real glimpse of community, militancy, trust, repression, betrayal, and (attempted) accountability. It’s a declaration of “we” that weighs a bit heavy on the tongue these days.

Ten black blocs, 30-something arrests, and over a hundred felony charges later, it’s difficult to remove ourselves from the collective identity that “we” have developed over the past years’ struggles. The “we” used here is shorthand for the web of chance encounters that deepened as the autonomous youth scene grew. Filler most definitely cannot speak to the experiences of everyone in Pittsburgh’s autonomous youth scene. Consider this our contribution to a growing mythology of closure, a burial ritual for our own lingering nostalgia, a call for multiplicity.”  

Photo: autonomous youth bloc turning up on election night on Pitt’s campus.
Read the report-back HERE.

What are some short and long-term objectives your crew has been working towards?

Counterinformation is communication, and communication is an end in itself. We’re not going to save the world (not that there’s anything about this civilization worth “saving”), but we might be able teach each other how to survive through the love and rage that grows in resisting it.

What do you think some of the major limits / major untapped possibilities for radical campus organizing are today?

Photo: Our generation’s first autonomous student bloc at Pitt
Click HERE for the first report-back.

From “I Got Arrested for Calling Michael Hayden a War Criminal,” by Raghav Sharma

And I’d do it again.
[…]
I would be astonished if either [cop] believed “disrupting a meeting” was an actual crime. The intention with which they bandied the phrase about was likely an attempt to make us fearful enough for our individual futures that we would comply with the questions they asked us about each other. Upon arriving at the station, my friend and I were led into an interrogation room. In an hour-plus conversation, the officers offered up such gems as “the Constitution is dead” and a lecture about my disrespect for the men and women who died defending my right to speech, the latter of which rang as hollow as the former did true while I sat handcuffed to a wooden bench for talking at the wrong time.

Solidarity is a Weapon

How can folks support your work?

Any closing thoughts / reflections from your crew’s conversation?

Print-ready PDF (imposed, short-edge binding) 

Filler – Issue #6
Pittsburgh, PA

Our material environment arranges life into a procession of neat little rituals. All that is possible or desirable is administered according to the routines built into Campus Life.

No one is quite sure why the lobby of Litchfield Towers is first and foremost a place to glide through in passing, to dodge the solicitations of student clubs, or to purchase coffee. Nor is there much reason to question such fixtures of everyday life; these structures are simply taken for granted as part of our unspoken consensus on reality.

And who really even gives a shit in the first place?

Well, try using a university space for even slightly different purposes and you’ll find out pretty quickly. After all, there are people whose paychecks are predicated on having to give so many shits that they will physically retaliate against any breach in routine. But uniforms are easy targets, rhetorically speaking. The relations encoded in the blueprints of the places they are paid to defend, on the other hand, are what reproduce normalcy.

For an education that liberates.
For a classroom that no longer spectates.
For house parties where Pitt students,
workers, and faculty can throw down together.
For a campus culture that terrifies Pitt’s board of trustees.
For a campus that celebrates life.

For a University Against Itself 

Back in the spring of 2015, a couple friends brought hot food, some boxes of clothing, toiletries, books and zines into the lobby of Litchfield Towers to give away for free. This was the same school year that the University of Pittsburgh’s administration decided to raise tuition, organize a food bank for its students as a sort of half-assed apology, and then jack up tuition a second time just a few short months later. Needless to say, shit was getting rough for a lot of kids at Pitt.

I thought using a student space to share stuff was a cool idea, so I grabbed a few sweaters I could spare on my way out the door that morning. But before I even made it to campus, our group chat started blowing up.

My friends had been kicked out within half an hour of setting up. By the time I got there, a Pitt cop was already chasing them out the door, frantically squawking into his radio, flailing his free arm and demanding they come back to face the consequences.

“Must fulfill duty to defend Law and Order,” said the robot in his head.

“Finally, some action!” thought the man behind the uniform.

Art by Tild Eath

The Task at Hand

Rather than deferring to age and experience, we can sharpen our analytical skills through discussion groups, general assemblies oriented towards communication as an end in itself, and more writing, theorizing, and critique. These are the processes that enable a crew, a community, or a distributed network of subversives to gain mutual understanding and refine their analyses in order to speak precisely about what is happening, what must be done, and—most importantly—how to do it. It is essential to find the time and space to do this with people you trust, whose analysis you also trust, and ideally who come from a range of backgrounds and experience.

– “After the Crest: Part IV,” Rolling Thunder #11

This is not a populist appeal. Nor is this a program to be enacted by some specialized minority of student organizers, “social justice” activists, or would-be insurgents. This issue of Filler is about starting a conversation.

In Pittsburgh, we’ve seen a small but exciting resurgence in everything from reformist mass mobilizations to insurrectionary shenanigans. I have no clue what might go down next semester, but some shit seems to happen over and over again. There are patterns, if you’re looking for them; Campus Life has a way of dissolving back into routine.

An effective analysis of our situation, and a healthy bit of introspection and reflection on our personal objectives, might offer a vision for momentum. But no analysis is fundamentally correct, and certainly no analysis is correct outside the context in which it is conceived. A correct analysis is simply whatever interpretation of social reality best informs our efforts to achieve a given objective. Ideas and conflicts persist, but radical youth scenes, and therefore coherent strategies, are as transient and short-lived as our attention spans.

The conceptual frameworks proposed in this zine are meant to work in tandem with the organizing that folks are already engaged in. The task at hand is to figure out, for ourselves, how to conceptualize and organize the University struggle: what entrances are we neglecting, and where might we find points of departure from which to rekindle the excitement we once felt? After all, the shit we pull off today will determine both starting points and horizons for the next generation of Pitt students.

This zine is also an attempt to contextualize Pittsburgh’s nascent student movement, to frame the coming unrest in a way that just might make some careerist liberal think twice before mentioning their time as club president on a future résumé.

~ I ~
Stories We Tell Ourselves

Organizing has never meant affiliation with the same organization. Organizing is acting in accordance with a common perception, at whatever level that may be. Now, what is missing from the situation is not “people’s anger” or economic shortage, it’s not the good will of militants or the spread of critical consciousness, or even the proliferation of anarchist gestures. What we lack is a shared perception of the situation. Without this binding agent, gestures dissolve without a trace into nothingness, lives have the texture of dreams, and uprisings end up in schoolbooks. 

– The Invisible Committee, To Our Friends

History under capital is a history of erasure, or else it would tell a story far more personable than the presidents and cash crops so familiar to students.^[1]☭

 Today in Pittsburgh, we learn how to reproduce the logic of the men who stamped their names on lecture halls, museums, and libraries. Over a century ago, but only a few miles up the road in Homestead, 19-year-old Andrew Henry Striegel died as a partisan for the living wage: a gunshot to the neck, delivered courtesy of two men also named Andrew and Henry. What is lost in high school textbooks is no mere anecdote, but an entire way of relating, being, and inhabiting that sidesteps the mediation of capital: the urge to live and to act directly in accordance with one’s understanding of the world.

But this is nothing new. History is written by the victors or whatever, right? The histories told in the classroom are just the stories popular culture prefers, an interlocking web of myths to explain the modern world.

All of America’s fundamental myths—property, borders, nations, liberty, debt, democracy—were born in acts of violence, are affirmed by violence, and reality is now mediated through their logic. The mythology of the University is no different.

The reemergence of an american student movement carries two discourses. One is familiar; the other is older and emerges far less often. The first is positioned within the march of progress, the student struggle for peace and opportunity, heated debates in the “marketplace of ideas.” It’s always returning to notions of civic duty and a generation’s political awakening, to celebrations of American democracy with a push from below. And it’s not just liberals or reformists that prefer this discourse. Plenty of so-called radicals fester in nostalgia for the old movement: the workerism of labor leaders, the naïve conservationism of the Greens, the rebranded demands for all-too-familiar concessions (whose benefits hardly last a decade before the economy is again restructured to render them meaningless), or the fatalistic certainty of an impending “final” crisis of capitalism. For these populist radicals, the day will come when all of the single-issue campaigns finally merge towards a swift and (relatively) peaceful transition into social democracy. Progress and Democracy, the Bernie-Bro’s wet dream.

The other discourse revolves around interpreting the social violence that sustains Everything, seeking out opportunities for material opposition and counterviolence. These kids orient themselves according to the latest communiqués and spectacles of the global civil war—the call-and-response discourse of Social War. Youth struggling against the american University inherit war stories from those few generations that figured out what the word “peace” really means, although their historical moments have likely been interpreted beyond recognition. While we can scrounge through the fractured bits of text, theory, and counterculture that these kids left behind, these artifacts do little more than hint at their movements’ key points of departure. Still, the fragments of their stories that somehow survived history are at least enough to inspire. For each retelling, it’s a question of improvising the plot gaps needed to link the acts. Good improv is hard, but not impossible. Sometimes all it takes to work out a strategy for momentum is a contagious tactic, as the 2009 student movement proved by occupying campus buildings all across California. But more often than not, would-be insurgents are left recycling tactics without a broader vision for sustaining disruption or infrastructure.

Of course, no single narrative is capable of telling the whole story, and fixating on a single discourse risks suppressing improvisation. Behind every discursive wave of Social War, from Santiago to Athens, are the privatized ruins of failed social democracies. But the key point here is that, ever since the movement of the 1960s, it’s the youth who are improvising theories of change: rejecting routine, escalating populist campaigns, pushing movements to their limits, writing their own mythologies, and even forfeiting their lives to fend off both State and fascist reaction.

The spectacle is not a collection of images, but a social relation among people, mediated by images.

– Guy Debord, Society of the Spectacle

Power, Routine, Legitimacy

The administration, the University, the student government, the State—none of these institutions wield power.  

Power is a relation, a social structure, a logic. It is both the physical and the psychological force of routine, both the pigs’ monopoly on the legitimate use of violence and the racialized colonial alliances that so often complement it. Power is fused within the organization of space; it is the way in which the flow of things and people (in that order) is enforced and reproduced through infrastructural patterns, ritualizing social hierarchies to the point that they become material conditions. “Those in power” are simply the ones enforcing and rationalizing the arrangement, or perhaps slightly adjusting it to better suit the flow of capital.

Routine is a mechanism whose parts can be infused, even conflated, with one’s identity; both the material organization of a space and its accompanying roles and relations are dependent on popular, undisputed participation and faith. We see this in the games of respectability and professionalism played every day on campus. The dormitory resident assistant is your age, but you will never be their peer. How could you be? At any minute, they could receive an order to search your dorm, summon armed men to detain you, get you thrown out of school.

Behind all power relations are a series of affirming images, reproduced ad nauseum on billboards and social media, personalized in the commodified identities sold on shelves and television shows, and circulated by the institutions that assign and define roles and tasks. From your dorm’s overzealous RA, to the cops that he called on the stoners down the hall, “those in power” are really just fronting the aesthetics of power. They would have us believe that they own exclusive rights over arranging and organizing the places we inhabit, or over the deployment of violence to enforce those modes of relations. Look, they have even the shiny badges to prove it!

The continued reproduction of the images, roles, and identities within a given space is only stable so long as nothing interferes with the rhythms of routine. Whether it’s a student refusing to put her cellphone away in a San Antonio middle school, a young man suspected of shoplifting cigarillos walking down a street in Ferguson, or a few dozen Black youth hanging out at a public pool in a white suburb—any potential disruption of the routine functioning of power relations within a space threatens to destabilize the arrangement and function of that space. Which is to say, disruption carries the potential to temporarily rearrange and repurpose a space toward the production of subversive, non-hierarchical power relations.

Since disruption cuts off the dominant relations at the point of production, the social roles that have been granted “legitimate” uses of force are employed as the first line of defense. The student questioning her teacher’s authority is also questioning the relations encoded in her school; the prospect of a suspected shoplifter making off with a few dollars worth of merchandise warrants extra-judicial execution because it challenges the sanctity of property; the presence of Black bodies in a white space threatens a regime of segregation. Behind every identity that categorizes and enforces ways of being, behind every arrangement of space that directs and determines the relationships that comprise things and people, is a latent violence. Disruption exposes this reality, but it cannot experiment with new forms of life without the capacity for self-defense, for counter-violence.

Exercising force is a tactical maneuver in the discourse of legitimacy. The function and arrangement of a space (public school, convenience store, white neighborhood) must encode a distribution of power that considers the agents tasked with imposing it (cops, pigs, murderers) to be legitimate. In the heart of the Empire, spectatorship translates as passive compliance with the rules of the game, as deference to the legitimacy of white supremacist and capitalist logic; in each of the above examples, white police officers savagely attacked young Black people with legal impunity. The aesthetic of power, then, is also the aesthetic of legitimacy: legitimacy is white, he flashes a badge, he wears a suit, he is a professional, he works within the parameters of the law, he carries a megaphone, he is comfortable in his neon-yellow marshalling vest, he is a man.

Genuine acts of resistance make no appeals to conventional legitimacy, to the symbolic terrain of representation, to negotiation with those fronting the aesthetics of power. Rather, genuine resistance leverages force against the material structures that reproduce reality, in hopes of opening new possibilities.

The academic life contains reinforcing counterparts to the way in which extracurricular life is organized… academia includes a radical separation of the student from the material of study. That which is studies, the social reality, is ‘objectified’ to sterility, dividing the student from life…

– Tom Hayden, The Port Huron Statement

Factory, Colony, University

The University is a knowledge factory, a think-tank expanding capital, a colony in the service of Empire: a site of social control.

The University of Pittsburgh, and the surrounding Oakland neighborhood, is a fucking police state. City cops, Pitt police, Carnegie-Mellon police, Point Park police, Pennsylvania State police, and park rangers all have jurisdiction here (and this doesn’t include rent-a-cops like university security). The administration doesn’t even bother trying to cover up the University’s colonial project; Pitt raises tuition every single year, ensuring that each semester brings richer and whiter students to Oakland. Meanwhile, its legion of pigs occupies the remnants of the original Oakland community to stabilize the process. The colony must grow in order to survive; everywhere, the public University is in its death throes, self-cannibalizing in desperate hopes that the commodification of knowledge, paired with the expansion of its consumer base and labor force, might offset the crisis facing the traditional reproduction of the working class.

The social organization of the University-Colony is a voluntary caste system. The material reality of University infrastructure is sustained by the constant reproduction of social roles: student, faculty, employee, administration, campus police, etc. But those mythical identities only exist in relation to the routines of the University. So in order to ensure that social activity on campus is performed in accordance with the proper University-prescribed identities, Pitt must detach Campus Life from Pittsburgh life—the University “community” must exist outside of the society that constitutes it. And even that “community” is itself further divided into separate social groups, from the academics to the service workers, each premised on a series of affirming images. Pitt hoodies and student ID cards insist the spectacle of Campus Life is not simply a ritualized social performance, but a natural order.

So long as social interaction is directed by the logistics of the neoliberal University—so long as the worker’s labor is converted into the administration’s capital, or the student’s research and debt is transformed into the school’s endowments and marketable reputation, or the untenured professor’s job insecurity is realized as another boring-ass slideshow and multiple-choice exam—all relationships will be mediated by the caste system of Campus Life. So long as capitalists are in control of the University, so long as the University is comprised of capital, the University will oppress and exploit.

Campus Life is a frontline in the social war. Its pretensions of colorblindness, gender equality, and academic liberalism are little more than a smokescreen to cover up the fact that the University itself can never be a neutral institution. A cursory glance at Pitt’s track record is all we need to draw lines in the sand. The normalization and legitimization of misogynist and transphobic platforms, the Pitt Police’s protection of sexist bro’s and subsequent harassment of queer students, the administration’s utter inaction in response to campus rape culture—this is not naive ignorance to the reality of conflict. This is partisan activity.

To expand one example, Pitt will never seriously address campus rape culture: not simply because acknowledging the routine violence of Campus Life might detract from the school’s reputation and therefore its income, but also because patriarchal violence is an integral part of the functioning of the University-Colony. Without that constant violence, and without the resistance to that violence being mediated by the relations of Campus Life, the governance of gender cannot be enforced, and patriarchy is left vulnerable to attack. Without that constant violence, the capitalist University might lose out on a highly profitable form of economic exploitation and social control. Some might go so far as to interpret this violence as an unspoken counter-insurgency strategy, where the brutal repression of half the population is so normalized that any resistance, let alone offensive militancy, is unthinkable.

The University is also a factory, and its owners control the means of knowledge production. Neoliberalism insists on reifying education as a product to be purchased, as a private commodity that can be divorced from daily experience and public life. But, of course, Pitt is somehow both public and private. And so some leftists desperately want to believe that education is still a public good to be defended, consequently ignoring the fact that all of the campus buildings (and everything inside of them) are University property…

If Pitt owns of the means of education, then our performance of “student” produces knowledge only as a marketable commodity. We don’t perform research to better understand our world. We don’t go to class for the sake of advancing, unpacking, and challenging our collective knowledge. Pitt isn’t searching for answers to the crises of this civilization. Finals week doesn’t mean shit. College is just work, except that we fund our bosses and get paid in promises. Academic labor is a glorified means of pushing the frontiers of specialization for the sake of economic growth; everywhere, the University promises its city an economic miracle that never materializes, swearing that the tech students are ushering in their very own Silicon Valley. A financial bubble to rationalize the campus bubble.

The true purpose of academic labor is obvious enough when we’re talking about the students with “practical” majors. Geology, engineering, environmental sciences? Training for the fracking industry. Economics, biology, business? UPMC is the new Carnegie Steel. Some cling to the liberal arts college as if it were the last outpost for receiving an authentic education purely in the pursuit of knowledge. Forbes Magazine calls the liberal arts degree the “hottest ticket” to the tech industry.

Each graduating class is the University-Factory’s latest upgrade to its most popular product: the designer labor force. Nearly a decade of state funding cuts can’t be balanced entirely through tuition hikes. Private and corporate donors funded around 62% of Pitt’s budget in the 2015-2016 fiscal year (30% came from tuition and other fees, a meager 7-8% from the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania). These donors, which include corporations like Google and Chevron Oil, don’t shell out cash from the good of their hearts. They want returns on their investments, and Pitt prioritizes its funding accordingly. The University of Pittsburgh’s state-of-the-art Chevron Science Center teaches us commercial sciences that serve the interests of capital, not people.

Pitt’s annual harvest of designer workers is primarily recruited by the same companies that funded their specialized education. The more innovative graduates join the writers of the algorithms—becoming programmers, city planners, UPMC specialists, engineers. The entrepreneurs among them eagerly await the opportunity to commodify what little remains outside of the economy, perhaps producing trendy apps for couch-surfing, socializing, or sex.

But those jobs are reserved for the cream of the crop; the infrastructure that once provided the conditions needed to support middle class life now lies rotting across the Rust Belt. Capital doesn’t know what to do with our generation, and so we’re sent to school for 30 years, locked away in prisons, or left to fight over menial jobs to keep up with loan payments. The majority of us will graduate as indentured servants. Our generation looks forward to settling the frontiers of economic life, where we will labor in the newly colonized fields of the service industry and the sharing economy. Bill Peduto eagerly prepares East Liberty for the new residents Pitt promised him. Like their liberal mayor, white hipster graduates mourn the postponement of the latest Whole Foods and nod excitedly while watching Last Week Tonight with John Oliver.

The ongoing evictions tearing across predominantly Black and working class communities will never end so long as the University exists.

Radicals hardly obstruct this process. After all, Campus Life ensures that malcontents only mimic the appearance of resistance. We end up policing ourselves to build the legitimacy needed for the administration to take us seriously, organizing as “student allies” to abstract identity groups rather than fostering connections with individual workers and faculty, substituting the aesthetics of our countercultures for a concrete break from the images that reproduce Campus Life, working long hours to make Pitt a progressive and democratic university…

Pitt not only accommodates the appearance of resistance, but depends on it in order to stabilize the social groupings that make up the mythical University “community.” The University needs its student labor force to produce the kind of critical feedback that can reenergize and relegitimize its project of technical specialization, capital accumulation, academic centralization, and colonization.

To fight for a progressive and democratic University is to fight for a more brutal and pervasive exploitation, and better ways to disguise it.

Fuck Reality

Until our actions break free from the logic of legitimacy and consensus, until our struggles are oriented outside of all University-prescribed myths – until we openly organize against the University – our anger will be deflected and rerouted into more palatable channels for Campus Life to accommodate. 

The interlocking series of myths, the University power structure and its relations, the spectacle of Campus Life that obscures the power structure—these all constitute consensus reality. Consensus reality is more than just the ways of relating that reproduce heteronormative patriarchy, capitalism, white supremacy, state control, specieism, and the myriad other hierarchies that constrain and destroy life. It is also “the range of possible thought and action within a system of power relations… enforced not only through traditional institutions of control—such as mass media, religion, and socialization—but also through the innumerable subtle norms manifested in common sense, civil discourse and day-to-day life” (Terror Incognita 11).

It doesn’t matter what you think so long as you behave, so long as your sense of the possible and your experience of desire does not break with the popular consensus. “Consent discourse presumes that what we want is knowable and can be articulated within the framework of our shared reality” (Terror Incognita 16).

Face it, our reality offers nothing to those seeking liberatory social change. Pitt’s consensus reality offers desires (potential courses of action, wants, needs, ways of defining and creating value) that serve only the interests of the University, of neoliberal capitalism. Nothing new can be built, let alone conceptualized, so long as those in power administer the frameworks in which we experience, express, and define our desires. If we have any hope of connecting our own stories to the growing web of insurgent realities waging social war against this reality, consensus must fracture into open conflict.  

It follows that Campus Life can only be subverted in a situation of seductive and genuine participation, where the desire to act shatters the passivity and mediation of consensus reality. Should a number of folks at Pitt find a reason join conflictual spaces that negate Campus Life, which is to ask should they conceive of reality as a collaborative project, as participation in an ongoing war between autonomy and social control, how many might never fully return to their normal routines? Near-life experiences are addictive in that way. Suddenly, momentarily, Campus Life’s professional titles like “undergraduate,” “professor,” or “janitor” might be seen for what they truly are: barriers to forming relationships with others on your own terms, prescriptive categories constricting your capacity to define yourself, for yourself. Permits and property laws might no longer meet the collective consensus requirements needed for their reality to continue getting in the way of potential good times. Grades, bills, and three-day study sessions at the library might stop fucking with what were supposed to be the “best years of your life.”

Seriously, though. I sure as hell wasn’t radicalized after hitting up some student group’s meeting. I’m here because I’m still chasing the high from that first punk show in a squat house basement, that first queer potluck, that first renegade warehouse party, that first unpermitted protest, that first smashed Starbucks window.

For conflictual spaces to be truly dangerous, they must constitute a point of participatory, horizontal connection between as many social margins as possible. This requires mobilizing people beyond your social caste within the University-Colony, subverting the spectacular relations of Campus Life, and actively reorienting struggle in a way that violates consensus reality. Put another way, an effective conflictuality essentially breaks the spell, as a young militant told the cameras in Seattle ‘99. The broader social war is already raging beneath the fragile peace of consensus reality.

Last November, a student-led march ended with a brief occupation of the Litchfield Towers dormitory lobby. We seized a space that exists explicitly for our use, that is maintained through our tuition, and we briefly repurposed that space to suit our needs. We left the lobby peacefully, singing,

Don’t walk in front of me I may not follow,
Don’t walk behind me I may not lead…

As people left, cops detained one kid from a crew that was trying to prolong the occupation by setting up a sound system from behind makeshift barricades of couches and tables. The march returned to the lobby to ensure the student’s safe release, and within seconds the University police brutally attacked the few protestors that made it back inside. The pigs even charged a student with felony trespassing on her own fucking campus.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dZEZciB98Tc

That night ended with radical questions circulating beyond our countercultural bubble for the first time in recent memory: Do the Pitt Police really have the right to beat the students they’re supposed to protect? Wait, don’t we pay to use that building? Well shit, do the police even have the right to dictate how students use our campus in the first place?

The following Monday, the crisis of legitimacy reached new heights. A broad coalition of campus organizations called for a last-minute rally at the site of the previous week’s police violence. That morning, the administration sent out a text message and an email to every student enrolled at the University of Pittsburgh, warning them about the demonstration. On Towers patio that afternoon, nearly the entire Pitt police force, many donning masks, manned a militarized zone that separated students from the dormitories we pay to maintain. Inside the lobby, the Pitt administration cowered behind their armed guards. Outside, a small crowd of about 50 students, along with a few faculty members and Pitt workers, refused the admin’s sheepish request for us to send a single representative inside for a dialogue with the administrators. Instead, we proposed they come out and join us in the cold, where they would have no opportunity to control us by appointing and manipulating a leader.

The crisis of legitimacy, no longer abstract, was reified in the guns and batons that prevented students from entering the very building many of us call home.

Disruptions, undertaken individually or collectively, can become a force of negation. Disruptions are a threat on the assembly line, in the streets, in the lecture hall; anywhere the logic of capital administers the structure of space. But disruptions are not enough. As Franz Kafka reminds us, “From a certain point onward, there is no longer any turning back. That is the point that must be reached.”

An occupation is the realization of the threats we make through disruption. To occupy is to strike, to remove a material place from capitalist time and space, to derail alienated activity and ride its inertia off the tracks, to rip open latent contradictions in the fabric of consensus reality. When we occupy, we create a base from which to launch new negations, but more importantly a subjectivity that is actively experimenting with new forms of life.

Disruption, negation, experimentation, occupation — the suspension of routine and rhythm, the conversion of a thousand plagiarized, angst-ridden zines into something terrifying and new: the insurrectional desire to experience unmediated forms of life here and now, to live communism and spread anarchy.

In a university that also operates within (and maintains) consensus reality, orienting action as a search for conditions that might solidify and circulate anti-capitalist relationships is more than mere prefiguration. It ensures the reproduction of alternative social ties, spaces, ideas or desires as an offensive tactic. It is an attack on isolation: an opportunity to share our experiences with one another, to celebrate our differences, and to expose the real lines being drawn in the social war. Elaborating insurrectionary potential requires more than blockading the flow of relations conducive to capital; it is a process of reorienting relationships and shared spaces towards the creation of new and transient collective realities. In other words, we must constantly recreate a “we” that isn’t a lie.

The crisis sparked by the brief occupation of the Litchfield Towers lobby drew lines in the sand, and suddenly kids from both populist and autonomous scenes found themselves sharing a declaration of “we.” The front page of the Pitt News read, “Students, administration clash over Thursday night protest.”

The front page of the Pitt News read, pick a side.

It’s been two years since the fabric of Pitt’s consensus reality really started fraying. In April of 2015, 78 Pitt faculty signed a letter protesting neoliberal-Playboy Chancellor Gallagher’s call for “Making an Impact Through Commercialization.”

Keeping knowledge free is in our own professional self-interest. The open and free exchange of research and data is essential to advancing scientific knowledge, and commodification threatens this fundamental principle of scientific inquiry…

In addition, universities are increasingly subject to pressure from their corporate “partners” to manipulate, suppress or simply avoid research that counters the interests of those who fund it…. We must be prudent in devising strategies for the production and dissemination of knowledge that maintain intellectual integrity, are inclusive rather than exclusive, and that create opportunity for and empower all members of our communities.

The university is one of the few places where our society might find leadership in developing the ideas and models we need to re-orient society in ways that can help to ensure that everyone today and in future generations can share in the benefits that so many of us at Pitt enjoy.

In 2017, our teachers are no longer on the defensive. The faculty and graduate students are both organizing with the United Steelworkers, with many comrades among them. But in order for these efforts to force a rupture that reveals the social war raging behind every new Starbucks and tuition hike, radical agitation should also shift to the offensive. The discourse of Progress and Democracy is especially dangerous after the election of Donald Trump. Radicals working within reformist groups need to exploit the heightened polarization and emphasize an anti-fascist framework if they want to prevent liberals and Trump-collaborators from pacifying these campaigns. The radicals on the outside need to familiarize themselves with the new social terrain, identify opportunities for militant disruption, constantly reevaluate their ideas of autonomy, and develop a broader strategy for circulating alternative social ties and desires. If we can’t generalize such a conceptual shift soon, popular consensus will normalize not only the Trump regime, but also the impending escalation of reactionary violence and State repression.

On our end, student-faculty and student-worker solidarity efforts are almost exclusively defensive, not to mention predicated on the relationships between self-appointed representatives of abstract identity groups. Fighting for specific reforms that could help our friends survive in the short-term is no substitute for finding ways to meet those needs ourselves: a gradual accumulation of concessions will never outpace the march of neoliberalism and the resurgence of fascism, let alone offset the rising cost of living. Conventional approaches like “raising awareness” about issues like union neutrality, the far-right, shitty wages and tuition hikes are crucial in base-building, and they could potentially present a counter-narrative to the administration’s justifications and propaganda. But waiting around for the University to fuck up on its own isn’t going to start the insurrection.

“If you want to force a change,” Milton Friedman advised his Chicago Boys, “set off a crisis.”

~ II ~
Dead Ends

The same people who practice “critique” are also the most susceptible to cynicism.  But if cynicism is simply the inverted form of enthusiasm, then beneath every frustrated leftist academic is a latent radical.

– Communiqué from an Absent Future

There is a peculiar grasp of method in the student organizing scene: the student group, the coalition, the teach-in, the petition, the letter-drop, the buttons and felt squares, the op-eds, the one-on-ones, the classic A-to-B march around Oakland, the discourse of accessibility or of buzzwords (intersectionality, systemic, anti-oppression, safe(r) space, self-love, revolutionary, collective liberation, community, consensus). Yet despite all of the base-building and the “meeting-people-where-they’re-at,” student groups at Pitt rarely break out of the initial education/negotiation stage of a campaign.

Each year’s new organizational leadership is drawn from that small base of students who spent their time as underclassmen slowly building their organizer cred: attending panel discussions and meetings, doing grunt work like flyering or gathering signatures, and then (maybe) hitting the streets during the occasional national mobilization. And each year the new board members, steering committees, core collectives, presidents, and “philanthropy chairs” mount their pylons of networking in-crowds and NGO internships only to gape helplessly at the massive turnover of the next semester.

For the student radicals working within reformist organizations, campaign strategies are inherited from the upperclassmen that bought them beer back when they first got involved. It’s chic to vaguely identify with anti-fascist and feminist politics, but some organizers cringe at –isms and are always sure to lecture newcomers on why it’s alienating to reference political theory. The only acceptable discourse is that of Progress and Democracy, which offers few tools for critiquing reform campaigns, but plenty of buzzwords for drafting petitions.

For the students who don’t try to disguise their analysis in the language of bourgeois populism, an unrelenting emphasis on intersectionality, autonomy, and horizontalism is the only authentic way forward—although nobody’s quite sure what these things look like in practice. This crowd is often lazily defined as the millennial activists; youth who conflate “organizing” with a directionless activism that is marred by ideological purity, adventurism, and (an admirably merciless) militancy. It’s a tired critique, but it definitely rings true whenever our organizing efforts and direct actions are oriented towards public visibility, rather than their emotional and material impact on both the community we long to build and the reality we despise. Besides, if the goal of an action is purely symbolic or designed to attract media attention, it ends up being little more than an impatient and unsuccessful populism (see: Democracy Spring).

Whatever way you spin it, student radicals in Pittsburgh are experiencing a degree of strategic polarization comparable to the tensions within highly mobilized campuses. One camp is acting out the politics of a populist routine, the other performs a pseudo-radical spectacle: one is base-building around modest demands without ever actually escalating, the other rides shotgun to trending hashtags from the latest revolt; one is checking off boxes on the never-ending list of “somethings” to accomplish before the final crisis of capitalism, the other desperately reblogs every adventurous breach in the anxiety of the everyday.

That being said, this section is not intended to define these tensions within some false dichotomy of “activists” versus “organizers,” or “autonomists” versus “populists.” Rather, I hope to challenge radicals working within one or both of the two most prevalent discourses (Progress and Democracy and Social War), to critically evaluate their relationships to the organizational frameworks, identities and desires produced by consensus reality. We won’t build momentum through the reconciliation of abstract tendencies, but there’s a chance things might start rolling if frustration can be articulated as the need for experimentation, or if the struggle to get out of bed nurtures a spirit of negation. [1, 2]

Critique illuminates all the errors of a society that its managers have overlooked. It is the perfect interlocking mechanism of stagnation, stunting the growth of burgeoning, subjective revolt by offering one a whole buffet of irresistible, irrelevant options for “change.” A release valve for intellectual dissonance, critique today resembles the state-sponsored “strikes” of communist countries, where the desire for resistance is satiated by a regimented diet of acceptable means of conflict, supervised by its very enemies.

– Preoccupied: The Logic of Occupation

The Populist

It’s true that the populist camp’s suspicion of ideology is a positive development. The tragedy of the 1960s is often told with fingers drawn at Maoist vanguards or lifestylist dropouts and escapist communes. But at least in the ‘60s you could generally figure out what the fuck it was that the people working with you really believed in. The problem today is that just about every populist, reform-oriented student group is a “Big Tent” organization, except that instead of involving the coordinated effort of multiple theoretical tendencies, there’s just a vague political spectrum that goes from “sorta liberal” to “hella radical.” With this in mind, it makes sense that the default discourse for most student groups is that of Progress and Democracy.

Regardless of one’s place in the spectrum, the ambiguous and moralistic populism surfacing alongside the Progress and Democracy discourse is now developing as an ideology.  

The populist, much like their cultural mirror in the hipster, is quick to shed or appropriate new political aesthetics, shrugging off any attempt at classification with the flick of a hand-rolled cigarette. The absence of any theoretical framework or clear ideological affinity within student groups leads many organizers to act out populism as a sort of cautious defeatism, often under the guise of being “realistic” or “patient.” Populism is encouraged by the Unions and NGOs that assign demands to student front-groups, administer the organizing frameworks, and then recruit and fund young radicals. This practice is typically rationalized with talk of building power through a gradual procession of concrete “wins” and creating accessible, entry-level political spaces. Such arguments ignore the reality of the situation: most student organizations are reproducing the logic of capital.

Not merely capitalist logic, like equating brand recognition with public support, or choosing tactics based on the input of popular opinion (read: market research), but the logic of capital. The organizational leadership determines and enforces the character of the individual organizers’ productivity, extracting surplus value from their activism in the form of social capital, brand recognition, and financial donations or grants. The organizers’ productivity itself is valued according to event turnout, or by the sympathy that the student group wins from the administration (which is to say, the organizers’ efficiency in siphoning the inclinations of individuals into an agenda the student group controls). But most of all, the logic of capital emphasizes its own never-ending reproduction, of the definition of “activism” as it exists within the confines of Pitt’s consensus reality. Reformist organizations are ultimately conflating quantifiable “wins” and concessions with building movement momentum, conflating the range of possible reforms granted by the discourse of Progress and Democracy with the process of improving material conditions. Consequently, radicals working within the populist camp face a much higher risk of being co-opted; many end up adopting populism as an ideology, rather than using it as an accessible discourse for organizing conflictual spaces and materially supporting the people that inhabit them.

At Pitt, each and every student group is competing for our participation. Students really don’t have much free time, so of course it’s easier to focus on the things that are immediately accessible. Genuine concern for the working conditions of the people who create the products we consume translates into pressuring the administration to divest from this or that unethical company, or perhaps into individual choices like shopping fair-trade. But are these viable solutions? Now that the campus bookstore has a friendly face, the University can resume profiting from its brand name and new progressive image, and the “ethical” companies can continue selling their particular brand of green capitalism. Having a clean conscious is far too often a luxury that comes with the kind of price tag few can afford, although taking out loans is always an option. Good intentions are sabotaged by reality.

Time constraints force student radicals to narrow our rage into a single issue, or else risk overextending ourselves and sacrificing our mental health. After we’ve chosen a focus, reformist groups shape and mold that rage into a passionate-but-reasonable simmer in order to appeal to a broader audience. Each single-issue organization must specialize its labor force, lest its workers distract from the campaign narrative, or (god forbid) start assuming tasks that are generally reserved for the top-dog organizers, such as making PR decisions, organizing meetings and actions, networking with other groups, and writing propaganda pieces.

Sound familiar? That’s because it’s the same logic of our neoliberal education. Students’ skills are specialized during a point in our lives when we should be exploring our interests in ways that aren’t predicated on utility or dictated by specialists. I’m not trying to suggest there’s something inherently wrong with becoming skilled in a field, or committed to winning a demand, and it’s not like students have spare time to dedicate to every hobby we entertain. But just as students cannot keep ignoring the ways in which our education is centralizing knowledge production and training us for participation in the capitalist economy, the radicals working for populist organizations cannot keep ignoring the ways in which reformist campaigns are centralizing agency and training organizers for careers in the non-profit industrial complex. The liberal tendencies within student groups are dangerously close to monopolizing dissent on campus, and the populist discourse of Progress and Democracy is turning well-meaning radicals into another specialized class of students telling other students what to say and how to act.

Seriously, are there any radicals working in the populist camp that haven’t been lectured by some condescending liberal about cuss words and respectability? Hasn’t everyone heard an older, more “experienced” organizer exaggerate a sigh before vapidly explaining the difference between essentialist abstractions?

• Between the “ill-timed” actions that are too disruptive/confrontational/alienating, and the merits of more “strategic” tactics, such as symbolic protest or asking super tough questions;
• Between the events and meetings that are too broad or open-ended, and those that are building the movement (or rather, their organization);
• Between the “good allies” passively following the instructions of a certain identity group’s self-proclaimed “leaders” (as if everyone within that identity has the same interests and beliefs as those that speak on their behalf), and the “bad allies” actively prioritizing social and political affinity?

Let’s not even bring up the violence vs nonviolence dichotomy…

The problems with the populist camp only amplify with scale. At the individual level, populist frameworks for activism and organizing do little to challenge the desires and social roles allowed by the University’s consensus reality. At the organizational level, the student group is structured by the relations of capital and thus depends on the perpetual specialization, reproduction, and exploitation of labor-power. The discourse of Progress and Democracy produces a populism that is both ideological and anti-theoretical, confining student groups to reformist narratives whilst depriving the radicals within them of the ability to collectively evaluate their efforts in relation to a broader vision for revolutionary change. When viewed as a whole, it’s clear that there is a widespread deference to the sorts of actions, decision-making processes, people, and ideas that are perceived to be “legitimate” within the campus Left; meaning that the majority of student-led campaigns—successful or not—do little to disrupt the Spectacle of Campus Life, cultivate actively (as opposed to passively) desiring individuals and collectivities, or subvert the myths that uphold Pitt’s consensus reality. The heteropatriarchal / white-supremacist / neoliberal University’s ongoing colonization of social and economic life remains unchallenged at best, reenergized and relegitimized at worst.

We seek to push the university struggle to its limits. Though we denounce the privatization of the university and its authoritarian system of governance, we do not seek structural reforms. We demand not a free university but a free society. A free university in the midst of a capitalist society is like a reading room in a prison; it serves only as a distraction from the misery of daily life. Instead we seek to channel the anger of the dispossessed students and workers into a declaration of war.

– Communiqué from an Absent Future

Reactive Autonomy

The emergence of an autonomous scene at Pitt is not the result of the spontaneous self-organization of radicals. In this early stage, it is a reaction-formation to the alienation of both Campus Life and the Populist Left.

Under Campus Life, each layer of alienation is turned into a private war with boredom, anxiety, and misery. The Pitt employee’s creative power is wasted on a 40-hour week of swiping IDs for students who will never learn his name. The adjunct professor must compete with her colleagues for a position, and even if she lands the job she’s not sure if she’ll be able to put food in her kid’s lunchbox. The student, perpetually intoxicated (if not through substance use, then through the countless other opiates sold to us), ironically satirizes and downplays the desperation underpinning their every attempt to balance life priorities—to finish class assignments, to keep in touch with distant relatives and loved ones, to calculate just how many hours of their life they must sell just to pay off their loans, to grapple with the scale of just how fucked we all are, to feel intimacy beyond the games of social capital and political manipulation. Everywhere, a quiet resignation to routine.

To be politically engaged, to root for one brand of elite interests against another, is no less a resignation to routine than going to work in the morning. To organize for University reform, to beg for the privilege to play faithful advisor to the administration’s strategic plan, is more of an endorsement of neoliberalism than an indictment.

Last year’s “strategic forums” once again channeled student anger into mediation, representation, and routine. The potential for a multi-front confrontation with the administration was outright squandered by a few prominent organizers, who leaped at the opportunity to represent the student body as student-advisors to Pitt’s strategic plan. In response to the populist left’s blatant complicity with these self-appointed student leaders and the administration’s recuperative efforts and propaganda, a few small crews of students broke away from their student organizations. Some of us opted to call for an alternative, autonomous “student action forum.” We thought the forum would create a space for students to discuss and self-organize around the issues closest to them. The forum was a flop (someone please remind me to at least hit up like a facilitation training or something before I ever try to call another general assembly), but it was also a turning point.

Autonomy attracts us because we’ve seen its potential to transform one’s sense of individual and collective power, to seduce spectators into active participation: its potential to inspire others to search for liberatory experiences and projects on their own terms. But autonomy is also a process. It requires intentionally theorizing and experimenting with our conceptions of autonomy in order to determine what practices will result in the active provocation, solicitation, and circulation of contradictory and complementary insurgent desires. Without continual experimentation and negation, without an intention that goes beyond “fuck that liberal bullshit,” we become passive consumers of the aesthetics and practices associated with autonomy, all the while reproducing the same relationships and arrangements of space that centralize power, agency, and legitimacy. In other words, we can cling to “spontaneity,” “horizontalism,” or “self-organization” (abstractions likely passed down from Occupy) all we want, but these words are practically meaningless until we start to facilitate spaces that provide the skills, platforms, tools, dialogue, material and emotional support required to inspire and nurture spontaneity, horizontalism, self-organization, autonomy.

The radicalism in our autonomous scene is reactionary primarily because it fails to break from the frameworks we are reacting to. Just because Pitt doesn’t recognize our crews as legitimate student organizations and none of us have “club presidents” doesn’t mean anything’s changed. The reactionary autonomist stagnates with their radicalism as an aesthetic; they parade their consensus processes, rowdy actions, militant rhetoric, nominally non-hierarchical meetings, and discourse pissing-contests in order to disguise the fact that they are reproducing the same organizing styles found in the populist camp, albeit with a sexier attitude.

If you think I’m projecting, that’s because I am.

How I became an organizer and started hurting people I care about.

Four years ago, my first real week spent “organizing” on a campaign ended with a series of banner drops that were timed to coincide with an SEIU strike. Shortly after, the more “experienced” student organizers suddenly stopped working with me. I found myself on a sort of unspoken blacklist after word got out that I allegedly dragged barricades into the street and vandalized University property with labor slogans. It was my first real mobilization; I honestly had no fucking clue what the word “escalation” implied, or how my actions might have made the campaign look bad. All I knew was that I wanted Something to happen, and that my decision to act on that desire managed to piss a good number of people off.

I still tried to be involved; I kept turning up at meetings long after I had stopped participating in any meaningful way. The older organizers gave me the cold shoulder, and I would leave early to cry alone in my dorm, or to smoke weed with you under the bridge in Schenley.

I don’t know where I’d be now if we hadn’t found each other. Like me, you were alone, stoned, and binge-watching that super dope first season of Vice on HBO. We rolled into every Free the Planet meeting high off our asses, even though we felt pretty unwelcome showing up there anymore. We spent most nights together, smoking by the Shrine under the bridge, throwing illegal bonfire parties on the lake by the train tracks, hitting every basement show at Bates Hardcore Gym, tripping face – sometimes twice a week – on Flagstaff Hill, passing around that grimey notebook I eventually scanned and printed as the second issue of Filler. I still remember holding your frostbitten hands as we climbed down from the roof of Towers Lobby; fifteen minutes spent fumbling with frozen wire, trying to drop our first banner together in the middle of a blizzard.

Months after the coalition splintered back into its original organizations, we realized we were still admins of the Facebook page. We hijacked that shit and told ourselves that we’d use it to organize differently, that we’d encourage militant action instead of shaming it, that we’d push the student movement toward the attack. We called for the first explicitly anti-capitalist march on Pitt’s campus since Occupy imploded, and all 40 of us marched for two blocks down the sidewalk…

Some older Pittsburgh radicals took notice, but despite their help we still had no idea what the fuck we were doing. We stagnated as those angry kids yelling on street corners, we fractured after our “formal” accountability processes proved worthless. We dedicated the weight of our emotional energy to the mere maintenance of our tiny organization before burning out one by one… by the end of the semester, we all retreated back into our respective countercultures.

We don’t talk much anymore, but it’s still comforting to read through the goofy shit you wrote in our notebook,

People come and go, it’s never going to change.
But those times were still fun, and probably really strange.

By the end of 2014, I was slowly plugging back into the populist scene, albeit as part of a different student group. This time, I took their organizing trainings to heart, convinced that our failure to organize autonomously stemmed from a lack of organizational formality. I began rehearsing my interactions with people to the point that they were script-like, my voice echoing the cold, indifferent speech I picked up while attending countless meetings. I complied with every request to bottomline bullshit tasks; I found myself competing with the other underclassmen to get the most petition signatures in hopes that the older organizers might take my politics seriously.

It wasn’t all that long before a new “we” broke away once more to organize autonomous action, yet by that point I had already turned into a “serious” “organizer.” We threw benefit parties, but I stressed over attendance numbers and the zine table instead of enjoying myself and catching up with friends. We called for general assemblies hoping to inspire intersectionality, or to present alternatives to the administration’s “strategic forums,” but really I just wanted everyone else to adopt my proposals and integrate their work into my own vision for a student union. We organized Share Fairs and Really Really Free Markets to build community and practice mutual aid, but I secretly valued people for the material items they contributed instead of the energy they brought to the space. We wiggled our hands in all the gestures of consensus process, but it was always the same people proposing ideas and facilitating the meetings. I adopted all the aesthetics of radicalism only so I could pretend that I was creating space instead of taking it.

Still, this new scene had real momentum, and it was only a matter of months before some of us started conspiring to escalate a populist march. The escalation was part of our plan for a series of autonomous interventions in the 2016 United Students Against Sweatshops convergence, which the Pitt chapter was putting in hella work to host that year. We thought the convergence presented an opportunity to push a national organization, with chapters on dozens of campuses, in a more radical direction… but also, like, personal politics. After the populist radicals found out about our plan, they invited me to the organizing meetings for the big march. Finally! I had been given a seat at the table. People were taking our mess of an informal coalition seriously! I didn’t even mind when I noticed that the list of participating organizations printed alongside the meeting minutes concluded with “oogles” where it should have read “Pittsburgh Student Solidarity Coalition.” I mean, shit, that was pretty funny.

But then the professional organizers started telling me what they needed “my” “organization” to do, and somebody gave me a clipboard. Which was, of course, the last thing my ego needed. When the big day came, I indulged my newfound legitimacy and took my place alongside the other march marshals. Clipboard in hand, I micromanaged each step my friends took, hoping to control every beat of the march so I could pull off a pointless escalation that was, in all honesty, motivated more by personal politics than a strategic vision. When the time came for the autonomous crews to escalate, no one followed the plan, because by then it had become my plan. I was too busy sulking to notice the circle of young radicals forming around the Food Not Bombs shopping cart. I didn’t recognize it at the time, but free food and a black flag did more to spark an autonomous scene than a strictly choreographed extra fifteen minutes in the street ever could have. Most of those kids are now close friends and comrades.

It is not a question of choosing between these two sides, nor of synthesizing them, but rather of displacing the priority of this opposition. The real dialectic is between negation and experimentation: acts of resistance and refusal which also enable an exploration of new social relations, new uses of space and time.

– “We are the Crisis” in After the Fall:
Communiqués from Occupied California

Incite, Conspire, Diversify

The autonomous scene has grown exponentially since the USAS convergence. There’s no sense in constructing some fancy framework for analyzing our interpersonal relationships, as my use of the phrase “autonomous scene” is simply shorthand for a series of overlapping networks (of organizations, informal crews, circles of friends, accomplices, codefendants, bitter enemies) that are, to varying degrees, coalescing outside of the mediation of University-affiliated student groups or political parties. The “autonomous scene” is an intentionally vague phrase, and it’s far bigger than any of the various acronyms we use to form social clusters within it.  

Our anxiety, boredom, and misery inhabit a critical historical moment. Our relationships are indisputably militant, as every time we manage to really, truly connect with someone, it’s because our realities merged along some plane of revolt against isolation, mediation, domination, control. Even the administration can’t ignore that “we” are experimenting with the communization of our segregated realities—that “we” are learning how to, if only briefly, create autonomous spaces in which there really is a “we.” And we want more.

 If defining the scene in concrete terms risks suppressing its potential to nurture relationships that don’t fit neatly within Campus Life, then how can it be critiqued? Without a clear picture of what counts as being a part of “the” autonomous scene, without formal specialization or hierarchy, how can we generalize a shared perception of our situation? What sort of frameworks for decentralized coordination can extend beyond our immediate social circles, when we struggle to do so even on a scale as small as Pittsburgh’s radical youth scene?

The social war is already all around us. It’s not a question of merging the various social and political circles into some unified campaign, but of facilitating the realization of mutual desire.

Find each other, because the Something we’re waiting for is never going to happen unless we become Something. If each of us acts on our own ideas and desires, a shared perception of our situation is temporarily understood every time we act collectively—every time we create spaces, projects, and experiences together. Which is really just a roundabout way of saying, what you do or don’t do makes all the difference.

In California, the kids spray-paint We are the Crisis on the walls of occupied lecture halls. In Greece, they write We are an Image from the Future.

What could “we” be? 

“We aren’t revolutionaries, but we are the revolution.
And sometimes I think that the whole movement is just me and you…”

Appendix

There is at least one practice worth prioritizing and refining. Healthy doses of introspection, taken alone or with the guidance of trusted comrades, might be a step in the right direction. Some questions I find myself habitually returning to:

• What are my short-term and long-term objectives? What are the first steps, and how can I take them while staying true to my beliefs?
• Does my current project require bringing in, training, or even radicalizing new people? Or can it be better accomplished with a few close friends who are already on the same page?
• Am I making time and space to hear my comrades’ criticisms, to learn together, and to unpack each other’s shit?  
• Is this crew/organization a closed collective with a formal process for integrating and welcoming new people? Should there be a separation between public events and collective meetings? What sort of decisions are made in these spaces, and how are they made? Is everyone in the crew/organization participating in planning the next public meeting/event, and if not, what’s the difference between being a member and part of the general public? Are there informal hierarchies that negatively impact the participation of others? Yeah, no shit there are, so what are you going to do about them? What’s the most strategic way to address them?
• When was the last time I revised my personal theory of change? How can my crew and I intervene in campaigns that seem to be stagnating? Are my organizing efforts, actions, and events actually getting me closer to any of my objectives?
• Is my crew prioritizing its abstract “organizing” work or its participation in an organization/campaign over its capacity to emotionally and materially support the people that comprise it?
• If my crew for this project is just me and two friends, is there consensus on whether it’s actually necessary to form or participate in a formal organization? How is everyone doing on, like, an emotional level? Maybe it’s time to just chill and enjoy each other’s company for a bit?
• Am I building affinity through trust and compassion? If not, how can I create space for healing?
• Am I having fun? Am I getting enough sleep? Am I falling into the trap of capitalist conceptions of productivity?

^{[1] ☭} So, what is capital? Fredy Perlman defined capital as, “…at once a name for a social relation between workers and capitalists, for the instruments of production owned by a capitalist, and for the money-equivalent of his instruments and ‘intangibles,’ …” Capital is a social relation that necessitates the use of things in a specific way, and it is those things in so far as they are directly reproducing this social relation in the process of value accumulation. As Marx emphasized in the Grundrisse, capital must be understood as a process. Marx defined capital variously as “a social relation of production,” “value in process,” “a Moloch,” “accumulated labor,” and most poetically as “dead labour which, vampire like, lives by sucking living labour, and lives the more, the more labour it sucks.”

– Jan D. Matthews, An Introduction to the Situationists

Filler issue #6, “For a University Against Itself,” is out now! Physical copies are available for sale – all proceeds will go to our comrades’ legal defense funds here in Pittsburgh. The print-ready pdf and an online reading version will be released next week. In the meantime, if you can’t get ahold of us for a physical copy, enjoy this promotional video 🙂

Pittsburgh Student Solidarity Coalition:
Letter to the Editor of The Pitt News

(Originally published in The Pitt News)

To the Editor:

On the night of Nov. 17, at a non-violent anti-Trump protest, tuition-paying students at the University of Pittsburgh were forced out of the spaces that exist and are maintained solely for their use by brutal force wielded by police who are paid through these students’ tuition.

The action on Nov. 17 was initially planned by Pitt Against Debt to protest tuition hikes. After the election, it was decided that we can no longer pretend all of the issues that impact us are not connected. Pitt Against Debt, Pittsburgh Student Solidarity Coalition, NightShade, Socialist Alternative, Pitt Students for a Democratic Society, the Autonomous Student Network, the Fourth Wave, United Students Against Sweatshops local #31, the Pitt chapter of the International Socialist Organization and several other groups came together to mobilize in explicit opposition to this system.

While marching through Oakland, students were goaded and teased by cops who made remarks to Pitt students such as “Too bad Trump is your president — what are you going to do about it?”

After reaching Litchfield Towers lobby, students had a speak-out focusing on sharing and celebrating our stories. After a speaker led them in a song, they left on their own accord to the quad. When word spread that a friend who had brought a PA system had been suddenly and unjustly detained, the group went back to Litchfield Towers. Police, in full riot gear, had blocked the main entrance, but students entered through the public side entrance of Litchfield Tower B.

Once in that space, between the guard desk and the main student mailroom, students began chanting, “Let him go.” Immediately and without any call for dispersal, plain-clothed cops began using force to remove students from the area and onto Litchfield Towers patio. Cops pushed their bikes into the building, shoving the bikes through the protestors. This resulted in students being pushed, shoved, hit with batons and intimidated with the threat of force. Students and community members sustained multiple injuries due to police violence. The police pulled and arrested two protesters — one of them a Pitt student — at random from the crowd.

Once students were on the patio, police continued to use force by pushing students on the ground and shoving their chests. One plain-clothed cop threatened students with a weapon.

It is unacceptable and intolerable that our University police — who we, as students of Pitt, pay for with tuition fees — would use excessive force and violence toward an unarmed, nonviolent, non-threatening protest. Through the use of force, police escalated the situation and violently removed students from their own University buildings.

This same night, five students were arrested in Texas for protesting in a similar situation. What happened here is not an isolated incident. This is part of a nationwide struggle against continuous oppression and repression and the rise of fascism.

As students at Pitt, with a common desire for freedom and justice, we must band together. We must demand that our University take responsibility for their violent police officers, their consent with oppressive systems, their tolerance of hate speech and their constant tuition hikes when the average Pitt student graduates with upwards of $30,000 in debt. We must demand that they take responsibility for the poverty wages that they pay their workers while members of the administration are paid upwards of half a million dollars. We must demand that their investment portfolio represent a sustainable and ethical future.

Our Dean of Students Kenyon Bonner issued a statement Nov. 18, condoning this police violence. This is absolutely unacceptable — our University should stand with students and protect the right to have our voices heard instead of defending the cops. We refuse to tolerate police violence on our campus and in our community, and we should hope that the dean of students would agree. Dean Bonner, we urge you to retract your statement and support Pitt students and our right to protest.

Signed,
The Pittsburgh Student Solidarity Coalition

Dear Pittsburgh Student Solidarity Coalition,

Thank you for your invitation to those who wish to contribute to your discussion around the reprehensible Milo Yiannopoulos, free speech, and activism/organizing.

First I would like to congratulate you on your communiqué “Reality isn’t Safe”, the strength of which implies (I am far removed from Pittsburgh and Pitt currently) that the movement from which it arises is similarly strong.

However, I found the section “Our Position”, appearing at the end of the communiqué, distressing.

I urge you to consider pressuring the administration to ban rightist and fascist speakers from campus, or/and to stipulate that they must not be funded or offered campus space by the SGB.

Pushing for reform, for minimal or “liberal” demands necessitates pushing for maximal or “radical” demands. Forcing SGB to deny funds or a space to rightist figure-heads and sophists does not set a precedent for SGB to deny funds or space to leftists or anti-oppression groups. These funds and spaces are already closed to us.

The administration and the state already have the power to censor leftists as violent, or dangerous, or unreasonable, or etc. Look at the massive campaigns of censorship deployed against the BDS campaign, or the campaign of fear-mongering rightism against Pitt Students for a Democratic Society (my organization while I was a student at Pitt) in the early 2010s. [1] [2] // [1] [2] [3]

That you say you would march with Pitt Republicans for “human liberty” and “free speech” is distressing. The problem is that Milo, like Trump, is precisely not controversial (you say “Should the liberals succeed in ‘reforming’ the SGB and administration in order to censor controversial speakers, we will march side by side with the Pitt College Republicans to defend free speech”), but is entirely normalized. You spend a fair amount of effort arguing against this idea of controversy, indeed against the very rightist, obscurantist idea of “free speech” and “the marketplace of ideas”, and then turn about-face to defend these ideas once the threat of governmental or administrative intervention in defense of safe spaces appears.

Leftists have nothing in common with libertarians, and decentralization is a trap. Capitalism is decentralized; the State is decentralized. See Bob Black’s “The Libertarian as Conservative” for more on this, and I am sure that the Invisible Committee and Tiqqun would be skeptical of such wholesale rejection of, i.e. turning a blind eye to, apparatuses of power.

Which is all to say: forcing the administration’s hand is not legitimizing its existence or power. The administration is already fully legitimized; it already dictates arbitrarily, which is to say, in a manner (over)determined by power relations, what is and is not “free speech”.

The community you wish to organize, bottom-up, does not exist. At least it exists only as a reflection, a reaction-formation to the “top-down” administration.

Reliance on institutional recourse is not what divides liberals from radicals; rather, a mis-perception of the central antagonism of society on the part of the liberals is what separates liberals from radicals.

The antagonism between the State and the Community is itself constitutive of society, of the community. Liberals privilege the spectral community, conservatives the spectral state, but both are reaction-formations to the central antagonism (hence the obscurantist conservative position that liberals want a form of state socialism). Leftists must not fall into the trap of either side. The result of this is Blanquism.

The Student Government Board at Pitt, if I remember correctly, came out of radical student struggles in the 20th century as a concession, a “pressure valve for would-be dissidents”, as you say. However, this characterization, on its own, minimizes the actual impact the SGB has on everyday life. It is not just a pressure valve; it is a positive formation, a method of distributing bodies, affects, labor. It is unimaginable, in the reign of the “marketplace of ideas”, that this distribution could be specifically anti-fascist. If the liberals succeed in making the SGB anti-fascist, even in this minimal way, they have achieved the impossible, and achieving the impossible is a radical, leftist goal.

I think, finally, that you will not lose your radical accolades if you sit at the table with the liberals, or if you add to your own tactics the so-called liberal tactics of pushing for administrative censorship. You can fight for egalitarian and radical redistributions of power on campus while simultaneously fighting to censor fascists.

As an aside: please never march with the right wing. Their free speech is not our free speech; their freedom is not our freedom; their society is not our society.

In solidarity,
Liam Swanson

[general trigger warning]

Hi Ilya Yashin,

Thanks for your response to our statements published in Filler, which were written more for the active campus Left than they were for the general public (and consequently gloss over important details about Milo Yiannopoulos’s presentation at Pitt). Your response has provided an opportunity for an open and accessible dialogue that bridges the gaps between various social groups, and in that spirit we would like to extend an invitation to anyone who wants to participate in this discussion. PSSC will repost your letter, as well as any other letters that folks may contribute in the future.

Our response is broken into two parts:

1) Reality isn’t Safe
The first section defines and contextualizes relevant terms and systems of oppression in an attempt to (1) make our discussion more accessible, (2) situate Milo’s claims within a broader political movement, and (3) clarify our positions. Concepts include: safe spaces and trigger warnings, hate speech, violence, rape culture, heteronormative patriarchy, white supremacy, legitimacy and social war.

We will respond to the specific requests and points of contention raised in your letter throughout this section.

2) The Divorce of Thought from Deed
The second section aims to explore the concepts of free speech, debate, and censorship. We will also explain our actions within a larger vision for change.

Here’s the video for reference:

PSSC represents a small fraction of the protesters. We do not intend to speak to others’ experiences, nor do we intend to imply a universal understanding of the situation.

We begin from the notion that our identities shape our understanding of the world, and therefore the authors of this response would like to be transparent. We are queer and cisgender folks, poor and wealthy, neuro-atypical and neuro-typical. We are lower-class people of color attending school through our own hard work, as well as privileged white folks with financially and emotionally stable home lives. We are survivors of assault, intersectional feminists, sex workers, socialists, students, and anarchists. PSSC is a forum for communication and collaboration. We use it to coordinate larger efforts and work together because we believe that it will take a diversity of identities, perspectives, and tactics to dismantle the interlocking web of oppression we navigate. And yes, this is all relevant, partly in explaining the abrupt rhetorical shifts, but more pressingly in our treatment of the issues and concepts explored in both sections of this response.

Signed (in alphabetical order),
A. Sid, Amanda, Angel, Annie, Harriet, Marisa, Straw

Reality Isn’t Safe

No word or idea exists in a dictionary-definition vacuum. Everything from the things we say to the places we inhabit make up a broader system of relations, and therefore inherit a complicated social legacy. With this in mind, “Milogate” (awesome term, by the way) has to be examined within a socio-political framework that is grounded in both the contemporary political climate and the historical development of these social relations. Cool? Ok, on with it.

Safe Spaces, Trigger Warnings, Hate Speech and Violence
As part of his “Dangerous Faggot Tour,” Milo Yiannopoulos came to Pitt to give a lecture billed as “Free Speech in Crisis.” Milo’s speech challenged what he views as an alarming tendency in the Left to censor offensive or controversial viewpoints, ostensibly under the guise of maintaining safe spaces, or through discouraging open discussion with demands for trigger warnings. Let’s unpack that.

Classroom safe spaces often include trigger warnings to warn students about difficult subjects. Trigger warnings can be likened to epilepsy warnings or food allergy warnings: if something might threaten your health, you would probably like to know beforehand so you can avoid it if you need to. Another example: if you have a friend who is a veteran of the War on Terror, you should probably give them a heads up if your weekend plans include going to a violent movie.*

Since there is a 50% chance that a survivor of sexual assault will develop PTSD, triggering post-traumatic stress cannot be equated to hurting someone’s feelings, as it elicits a physical reaction that threatens a survivor’s health. Contrary to the far-Right’s trolling, “triggering” isn’t synonymous with “offending.” Using the n-word to piss off the “PC police” will merely offend a white anti-racist, but it might trigger someone like the Pittsburgh man who was called racial slurs as he was savagely beaten by five white men, three of whom got off scot-free. Racist violence, including Klan activity (despite Milo’s claim that the Klan is irrelevant, and that Black Lives Matter is the modern equivalent), is pretty common in Pittsburgh.^{1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6}

Unlike some safe spaces, making classrooms safer does not mean prohibiting discussion of sensitive topics or silencing unpopular positions. All it means is that the harassment of students with marginalized identities will not be tolerated, perpetrators will not be allowed to attend the same classes as the people who survived their violence, and that discussions about difficult issues will prioritize the voices of people whose lives are directly shaped and impacted by these issues. The prioritization of these voices does not mean other voices cannot contribute to the discussion, or that any identity group is monolithic. Rather, it is an acknowledgement that within an educational environment, the honest way to open a discussion or debate is to first ground the conversation in the variety of experiences and opinions held by those most impacted.

For example, a student is free to argue that heteronormative patriarchy does not exist during a class discussion. However, if that student then goes on to make personal attacks and insinuate that other students are lying about their lived experiences of discrimination, assault, or harassment, then they will be asked to leave. Such offensive behavior is the real silencing, as it delegitimizes and intimidates already marginalized people.

Often times, if someone is taking up too much space in a discussion of a topic that does not influence their lived experience, they are asked to “check their privilege,” which in this context is shorthand for “this isn’t your daily life, you cannot speak to my experience.” Many conservative men think that privilege-checking is a way to silence a dissenting opinion, ignoring the fact that men talk about 2.5x more than women in class discussions, and that chances are they’re simply not accustomed to giving sufficient time and space for others to speak. But the point here is that there are ways to contradict an academic concept that don’t involve spewing platitudes in an attempt to trivialize someone’s experience: “well, actually rape culture is a myth because you shouldn’t take those jokes seriously,” or conflating threats of violence with mere offensive language: “Pfft, I’m not offended when Trump implies all Muslims hate America, just look at the statistics.” But more on that later.

Photo: Milo’s autograph on one of the autonomous flyers that was thrown in the air.
Not pictured: comprehension of the point.

At around 45:50, Milo elaborates on his argument against making classrooms safer spaces, offering two ridiculous alternatives with interesting historical legacies:

“Rather than creating so-called safe spaces… it might be better for people who have unfortunate things happen to them to take a year or two or more out of college.”

Instead of making classrooms a place where survivors don’t have to relive trauma in order to participate, Milo would rather have them either attend class anyway, or simply drop out. The first alternative is dangerous, as it means that in order to complete their education, survivors must continually put themselves in psychological and physical danger every time they attend class. Without safer classroom protocol, a survivor of assault can be harassed, called a liar, silenced, or forced to come into contact with a perpetrator. At this point in the lecture, several members of the audience called Milo out on the moral absurdity of his argument and walked out in protest.

Milo’s stance is nothing new. In fact, he is advocating a logic inherited from centuries of misogynist violence. Since the advent of higher education in the 1800s, women (especially women of color) seeking a higher education have faced institutional roadblocks and constant harassment and assault. These barriers did not magically disappear, but continue to this day. Around 1 out of every 4 to 5 women that attend school are assaulted, often coerced into silence through physical and psychological fear, subjected to defamation when they do speak out, and then left alone to choose between letting their grades slide after skipping out on unsafe classes on the one hand, or dropping out to avoid reliving trauma on the other.

Within this same minute or so timeframe of the lecture, Milo goes on to prove that survivors can and will be illegitimized and excluded from ostensibly academic environments. He calls advocates of safe spaces “the most mendacious and dishonest people on campus…” and even singles out actual survivors, like Anna Sulkowicz from Columbia University, as liars. Sulkowicz’s story received national attention when she carried her mattress around campus to protest the administration’s refusal to hold her rapist accountable. For people like Milo, survivors that speak out are probably just attention-seeking “crybabies,” putting themselves in the spotlight because they love alienating their friends and receiving death threats. Since Anna’s perpetrator was never convicted, she must be lying in order to push her agenda of fear and anxiety on women everywhere! Pay no mind to the Department of Justice statistics stating that between 93% and 97% of rapists are never convicted.

When we look at the historical application of discrimination and violence outside of some imaginary academic bubble, we see the real-world consequences that Milo aims to rationalize and perpetuate: many women internalize subservience in the classroom, survivors of all genders are routinely excluded from the university community, and those that speak out are decried as hysterical, entitled brats. But apparently 90% of lawmakers in this country are males because women aren’t interested in getting “practical” degrees, or something. We’ll explore rape culture and patriarchy in greater depth later on.

At 35:15, a man asks,

“Last night, Lady Gaga, who has made her fortune off of pandering to homosexuals and feminists… [stated] that one in five women will be raped on college campus, can you elaborate on how much bullshit that is, please?”

Milo attempts to debunk the sexual assault statistics by claiming that the Left has a “supply and demand problem with bigotry” and they “don’t have enough bigots to go around, so they have to create new ones… and so they widen the definition of sexual assault to include, you know, touching boobs or an unwanted kiss, I mean this is just normal human sexuality.” Milo then backs this claim by saying that anyone who supports these statistics, like President Obama, is deliberately lying.

This is a threat of violence. Milo is telling men in the audience that the definition of sexual assault is a liberal conspiracy, and that assault is just normal, expected human behavior. We’re sure you, Ilya, would claim this isn’t a threat, or misogynist, but merely “an argument.” Two of our friends left at this point in the lecture, collapsed into tears on the pavement outside, and were unable to move until a random passerby helped them to the nearest bench. They recognized the threat, and their stories are not unique. Our Post-Milo Solidarity event statement, which was republished in Filler, was written for them, not you.*

Later in the same harangue, at around 37:30, Milo claims that “there is no basis in science to suppose that gay people are born that way…” despite a plethora of evidence to the contrary. Of course, sexuality is partially situational, but the implication here is that heterosexuality is natural and that deviance is a choice. Absurd statements like these, even when coming from a gay man, attempt to render LGBTQ* identities illegitimate and serve only to rationalize the discrimination that folks continue to experience in employment and many other aspects of daily life. Being gay is not a lifestyle choice, and Milo’s assertion is hate speech.

Around 38:20, Milo is asked why he hates feminists. He explains that “feminists have bred an entire generation of women who have been told lies. They’ve been told they can look like… hideous, monstrous, fat, quivering, horror shows, and that they can still be happy. That’s a lie. No woman will be happy that way.” For Milo, feminism is bad because it might help “ugly” women be happy with themselves. This insinuation is harmful for all genders because it implies feminism only helps women, and only women that don’t adhere to society’s strict guidelines at that. Women looking and dressing how they please, and not how men want them to look, takes power away from men who would otherwise dictate what they should wear, what they should value, and how they should express their sexuality.

The closest thing to an actual argument Milo makes during this sexist diatribe is, “the greatest risk to happiness between the genders is feminism, which is why I rail against it, because it is evil and terrible, and though it had some great accomplishments in the past it is no longer necessary and concerns itself now with man-hating instead of equality.” Instead of citing contemporary feminist authors and public figures to prove that modern feminism is “evil,” he cites phrases that are used primarily for internet trolling, like “masculinity so fragile” and “kill all white men,” as examples of feminist man-hating. Just a few minutes later, and without a hint of irony, Milo praises speech that is offensive to those with power as being one of the major catalysts for change.

Milo’s transphobia is also quite obvious. In an article advocating dropping the “T” from LGBT, he uses multiple transphobic slurs (calling trans men and women “trannies”), claims that transfolk are predisposed to criminal activity, and backs his argument with choice lines like, “If you ask me, when a guy says he needs to cut part of himself off for the world to make sense, we should start with his head.” This is hate speech.

At 54:00, a brave student drops some knowledge about systemic racism and sexism. Milo responds with the same tired, racist platitudes that the right always clings to: “black on black crime,” “although blacks make up only 12% of the population, they make of over half of murderers,” and “Black Lives Matter is basically the KKK.”

Despite Milo’s acknowledgement that slavery was indeed very, very bad, and its legacy continues to this day (deep analysis, bro), these comments are racist as fuck. Milo is implying that the black community is disproportionately impacted by the criminal justice system because black people are predisposed to crime, because black people are more likely to be murderers. Gary Younge writes,

America is very segregated, and its criminality conforms to that fact. So the victims of most crimes are the same race as those who commit them. Eighty-four percent of white people who are killed every year are killed by white people. White people who buy illegal drugs are most likely to buy them from white people. Far from being extraordinary, the fact that black criminals are most likely to commit crimes against black people makes them just like everybody else. A more honest term than “black-on-black crime” would be, simply, ‘crime.’

In response to Bill O’Reilly’s similar attempt to link Black Lives Matter with the KKK, Chauncey Devega writes,

Indeed, the ascendant brand of “colorblind” racism that informs this thinking is predicated on the myth that all people and groups in the United States are equally racist. The end result of such thinking is a type of compromise-based politics built on white-washed myth making and empty claims to “diversity,” a cherrypicked reckoning of American history, past and present, that sanitizes the radicalism of the Civil Rights Movement—reducing it, more or less, to a selectively edited version of the “I Have a Dream” speech… the lie of “black racism” stands in the way of the goal of creating a more just and equitable society for all people.

Racism is a sin that is unique to White America. This is not because of arbitrary distinctions of skin color and melanin count, but rather because of the dynamics of inter-group power. And “Black people do it too” is a rhetorical trick that prevents Americans of good conscience from confronting the very specific ways that white privilege and white racism hurts, kills, and otherwise negatively impacts the life chances of black and brown people in the United States.

Ultimately, such distortions and lies are easily refuted:

The Ku Klux Klan was the largest domestic terrorist organization in American history. It is estimated that the KKK and the mass violence it either directly inspired or took part in killed at least 4,000 black people by lynchings, and perhaps as many as 50,000 by other types of white domestic terrorism. The reign of terror inspired and carried out by the KKK, along with other white paramilitaries, was so great that it compelled the great African-American migrations from the South to other parts of the United States—a move that involved at least 5 million people over several decades.

At the height of its power, the KKK controlled entire towns, states, and territories. It was also was one of the preeminent civil organizations and pathways to white “respectability” in the United States during the 19th and early to mid 20th centuries.

There is no equivalent organization in the history of the United States. And there is most certainly not a black or brown Ku Klux Klan in American history. Why not? The United States was founded as a white racial settler state. Its government from before the founding and through to the 20th century embraced white supremacy as the law of the land. No such arrangement of power would ever tolerate a black “terrorist” organization, much less one to match the scope and influence of the KKK. Moreover, those black and brown organizations that tried to resist white supremacy—even by non-violent means—were destroyed, and their leaders killed and imprisoned by the FBI’s COINTELPRO initiative and the broader United States national security apparatus.

It is possible that Milo did not mean these assertions to serve as generalizations of black people. This is irrelevant. Black people are not some monolithic entity, and to insist that a comment must insinuate a hatred of all black people in order to sufficiently qualify as racist is absurd. Many modern, self-identified racists don’t even say that kind of shit anymore. Racism today is subtle, cloaked in out-of-context MLK quotes and near-religious recitations of crime statistics. Besides, Milo’s made plenty of overtly racist comments in the past.^{1, 2} Oh yeah, and there was that time he teamed up with a literal white supremacist terrorist for a smear campaign against a black man.

At 12:36, Milo’s blatant hate speech against lesbians also serves an agenda. But first, here are some highlights:

“I don’t want women to be drawn into lesbianism, and that is of course how lesbianism works, women [have] a much more malleable sexuality than men do… your government spent $3 million dollars working out why you [lesbians] are all so fat… there’s of course the lesbian domestic violence epidemic, I wrote about in a column called “Attack of the Killer Dykes”… the only one respect in which there a serious culture of rape on campuses… it’s lesbians.”

Research from the National Sexual Violence Resource Center (NSVRC) confirms Milo’s claim that the LGBTQ* community is more likely to experience sexual assault, sexual harassment, physical assault and stalking than any other group. However, the study notes that this disturbing trend supports the theory that these higher rates represent “a violent attempt to oppress those who are challenging social norms around gender and sexuality.” This implies that the statistics cannot be blamed on “killer dykes,” and should rather be understood in the context of alarmingly frequent anti-LGBTQ* hate crimes. At 14:15, Milo claims straight men wouldn’t assault lesbians “given how they look.” This is the only evidence he offers to substantiate his claim that lesbians “are raping each other at rates similar to those in the Congo, where rape is a weapon of war”: lesbians are too ugly to be raped by straight men.

In reality, hate speech like Milo’s is spreading this violence against LBGTQ* folks: the homophobic notion that sexuality is a choice fuels the all-too-common perception that lesbians “just need to find the right man,” that they need to be “fucked straight,” and directly influences anti-LBGTQ* hate crimes.

We agree with Milo on at least one point: rape is a weapon of war. Heteronormative patriarchy and rape culture represent a constant threat and imposition of violence used to maintain power imbalances in our society. This is the “War on Women,” one of many frontlines in a broader social war; a war that is raging everywhere from Pitt’s campus to the gentrification of East Liberty, from the racist stop-and-frisk policing targeting neighborhoods like Homewood to the rising tuition rates and shitty wages; the same war that is being waged behind every “academic” “debate” at Pitt.

You write in your letter,

As you can see from the quotes, Milo, in his speech at Pitt, did not mock or otherwise disparage victims of sexual violence who are asking for safe spaces. He criticized the claim that safe spaces are the best way to deal with trauma, and he ridiculed the demand that safe spaces in college classrooms must be provided for sexual assault victims, for the reasons that 1) this has unintended and unfortunate political consequences and that 2) based on research, this does not seem to be the best way to handle trauma. The validity of the research he alludes to is irrelevant because very many things scientists claim turn out to be false anyway; what matters is that he bases his advice (advice, not command) on research, not on his disrespect toward sexual assault victims.

If you’re still not with me on this, here’s an (exaggerated) analogy: Mocking homeopathy as a cure for cancer, or opposing the demands of pro-homeopathy cancer patients that their insurance company cover homeopathy the same way it covers mainstream cancer treatment, does not in any way ridicule or disrespect cancer patients themselves or the harsh reality of their lives as cancer patients. And it also does not amount to telling people what cancer treatment to choose, but only to suggesting that, based on research, one way seems to be better than the other and does not have the unfortunate unintended consequences that the other has.

Does calling safe space advocates “the most mendacious and dishonest people on campus,” singling out specific survivors that want these kinds of spaces just to call them liars, and “advising” survivors to drop out somehow not qualify as mocking or disparaging?

If you’re still not with us on this, here’s an exaggerated analogy literally what happened: Milo is travelling from campus to campus, telling his supporters that sexual assault is normal human behavior, telling women their experiences of rape culture are fabrications, “advising” survivors of all genders to drop out rather than fight for a safe learning environment, bolstering the attitudes of the bigots in attendance, claiming women cannot be happy if they don’t meet patriarchal beauty standards, legitimizing the logic of hate (with the aid of university funding) under the guise of defending “free speech,” and building caricatures of the right-wing’s “enemy” in order to turn the social movements of oppressed peoples into scapegoats for the problems these movements aim to address in the first place. This is hate-mongering.

In your letter you state,

Here’s the definition from the American Bar Association: “Hate speech is speech that offends, threatens, or insults groups, based on race, color, religion, national origin, sexual orientation, disability, or other traits.” If you claim that Milo’s speech at Pitt (or parts of it) meets this definition, please provide direct quotes from his speech that do some of the 21 (because math) things that the definition specifies. I can think of only two instances that, to some people, might meet the definition: Milo’s off-color joke implying that lesbians aren’t sexually attractive enough for straight men to rape them, and claiming that there’s no basis in science to believe that gay people are born gay. If that is the extent of his hate speech, please say so (plus it would be quite nice of you to comment on whether that alone justifies your outrage, feeling unsafe, etc.)

When Milo says people within the LGBTQ* community are acting out a “lifestyle choice,” distorts statistics in order to justify calling lesbians “ugly” “killer dykes,” uses slurs and graphically violent rhetoric in reference to transgender men and women, claims that the Black Lives Matter movement is the modern KKK, and relies on grossly inaccurate generalizations about marginalized identity groups in order to discredit their liberation struggles, this is hate speech for all of the reasons we have already discussed in this letter.

You write,

Suppose a few other white people and I find ourselves in a Pitt classroom full of black people engaged in an academic discussion of U.S. race relations, and afterwards we feel physically unsafe, fearful, and anxious. We’re not making it up, we really really feel it. And if we tell the administration or the press about feeling physically unsafe, fearful, and anxious, should our experiences really be taken at face value and given the same weight as objective evidence? Or should we be outed as implicit racists, educated on race and race relations, and be told that we had no reason to feel physically unsafe, fearful, or anxious? You be the judge.

Here’s a more relevant example: Suppose a few other men and I go to a talk given by a female feminist to a mostly female audience at Pitt, and afterwards we genuinely feel physically unsafe, fearful, and anxious. (We’re not making it up! How dare you accuse us of exaggerating?!) If we tell the administration or the press or anyone else about our distressing experiences at the event, should our experiences really be taken at face value and given the same weight as objective evidence? Or should someone tell us that we misunderstand feminism, that the speaker actually never threatened us or condoned violence against us or any other men, that we misinterpreted and twisted the speaker’s words into something threatening—in short, that our fear and anxiety are unreasonable? You be the judge.

Ok, close your eyes and imagine that fear and anxiety in your hypothetical classroom: the worry that no one will believe you, that there is nothing you can do to prove the threat of violence you know is real. But wait! Maybe you can try to explain how the layout of the classroom stifles your ability to participate on equal footing, cite hundreds of studies to substantiate your claims, and then trace the lineage of your situation throughout hundreds of years of systemic oppression. People might change their minds! But then it hits you: even if you bring these points up, you don’t have the same capacity as everyone else to participate in the class discussion. Besides, suppose you did get the chance to debate anyone on equal footing, mere words won’t change the layout of the classroom. You’re probably just better off hoping that someone slips up and says some shit like “shut up, whitey” or “kill all men”…

…and now picture that as every day of your fucking life.

While your letter was presumably well-intentioned, we’d like to briefly walk you through the world of anxiety and violence that exists outside of your privileged, ignorant bubble.

Rape Culture, Heteronormative Patriarchy, White Supremacy, and “Legitimacy”
In response to our statement, “The reality of campus rape culture is not an opinion, it is daily violence experienced by 1 in 5 of our female classmates,” you wrote:

“You’re right, it’s not an opinion—it’s an argument. It’s the argument that rape culture, “an environment in which rape is prevalent and in which sexual violence against women is normalized and excused in the media and popular culture,” exists on campuses. Agreeing with an argument doesn’t make it a fact.”

Judging from this paragraph, we’re wondering if you agree with Milo that that the statistics are overblown and inaccurate because of a liberal conspiracy to demonize men and criminalize “normal human sexuality,” and that public discourse does not influence social reality (59:00). Rape culture is an “argument” in the same way it’s an “argument” that women of color were routinely assaulted during the Jim Crow era, were unable to report their assaults out of fear of the police and retaliation, and were often times brutalized and murdered if they tried to hold their attackers accountable.^{1, 2} We don’t “agree” with an argument, we live through rape culture as a part of our daily lives.

A group of survivors called Order of the White Feather compiled some numbers:

• 1 in 3 (33%) women are survivors of sexual violence or intimate partner violence. (WHO) This figure is actually low when encompassing all forms of sexual violence, including physical sexual harassment and, what many would consider, innocuous assault, like having your ass slapped, bra-strap snapped, or “copping a feel,” especially during adolescence. Those things do fall on the sexual assault spectrum, and they are traumatizing to varying degrees depending on the situation and individual. Bottom line, they are unwanted, nonconsensual sexual contact. The 1 in 3 I often quote, then, is quite low, as I have yet to meet a woman who hasn’t experienced some kind of groping in her life.1 in 6 women are victims of rape or attempted rape at some point in their lives. For the most current rape statistics, read these: RAINN Statistics & Rape Trauma Services Statistics, also read more on The Rape Spectrum
• 1 in 6 (17%) men are victims of sexual violence. Similar to above. The figure most often seen when calculating the number of men sexually abused or assaulted in their lifetime. (Source in Canada) (Source in US and Canada)
• 600 people are raped every day in the USA, one every two minutes. (RAINN)
• 1 in 3 (30-35%) of men would rape if they knew they’d get away with it. (Source. Plus, second source 11 years later showing the same percentage: Kilpatrick)
• 1 in 6 or 7 (14-16%) reported cases will ever see the inside of a courtroom. This was a figure given to me by my own sexual assault attorney back in 2012. I took his word for it, especially after all the research I did coupled with my own experience with the police, as well as experiences like this.
• 1 in 16 (6.5%) men are rapists. 2002 Lisak study, although other studies show as high as nearly 15%, or 1 in 7 men.
• Only 27% whose assault met the legal definition of rape consider themselves rape victims, so great is the minimization and normalization of sexual assault in our society. (Source)
• Only 40% of rapes are reported to the police. (RAINN)
• Between 65% and 85% of rapes are perpetrated by someone the victim knows. (Source)
• 91% of victims of rape/sexual assault are female and 9% are male. (Source)
• 97% of rapists will never spend even a single day in jail. (RAINN)
• 98% of reported rapes are true, only 2% are false, which is lower than false reports in every other type of crime. In fact, the 2% is a little high. The actual statistic is 1.5%, and I’ve seen it stated as low as 0.7%, which in my experience is the most accurate. The FBI quotes 8% false, but read this article to see why I choose the lower percentage. Since cries of “false accusation!” are the greatest of The Great Derailers, please read a more comprehensive explanation on my Derailers: False Accusations

Probably the most comprehensive, sobering, and well-known studies are David Lisak’s findings, which is the basis for the excellent Yes Means Yes post “Meet the Predators,” and the recent United Nations study on the roots of sexual violence spanning six countries and two years. This latter study shows, worldwide, a whopping 25% of men (1 in 4) had raped someone in their lives. 1 in 10 (10%) had raped someone who wasn’t their partner.

Some more:
A study by the American Association of University Women found that more than 70 percent of LGBT students encounter sexual harassment at college from fellow students, faculty members and campus employees.

A 2009 investigation by the Center for Public Integrity found that some schools had designed their victim assistance systems in ways that led to nearly every report being designated as “confidential,” keeping official tallies of campus sex offenses low. Past legislation, including the 2013 Campus SaVE Act, has attempted to fix the Clery Act by expanding the range of sexual-violence incidents that must be reported to include domestic violence, dating violence, and stalking. But the legislation did not clarify the requirements that right now allow most sexual-assault reports to fly under the public radar. For now, self-reported (and imperfect) data in campus climate surveys like the one produced by the AAU is the only way for anyone outside university administration to examine the number of sexual-assault reports that schools receive.¹

In your letter you state,

“Theft is much more prevalent on campuses than rape, yet we don’t hear claims that there is a campus theft culture, or that challenging such claims amounts to theft apologia or theft denialism, or saying that having precious things stolen is no big deal.”

This is an inherent part of rape culture. The existence of rape culture in this country and on campuses nationwide is due to the normalization of rape, as well as victim blaming and denial of rape by some persons in authoritative positions. Downplaying the criminality of robbery, victim blaming people who have been robbed, and normalizing thievery as just a part of daily life are not common responses to theft crimes, which is why there is no “theft culture.” People do not question the validity of theft claims as they do with rape. In fact, 98% of reported rapes are true, only 2% are false, which is lower than false reports in every other type of crime.The aforementioned are reasons behind the existence of a culture of rape versus just the acknowledgement of rape on campuses, as well as other crimes including theft. In addition, cases of reported rape on the Pitt campus have been doubling since 2012, exceeding robbery rates. Cases of burglary have decreased, while cases of rape, as I mentioned, continue to increase. This does not take into account that sexual assault is one of the most underreported crimes, with 68% nationwide still being left unreported.

At 6:22, Milo says, “you’re not supposed to clap anymore, it might trigger survivors of domestic violence.” Many in the audience applaud, point, and laugh at women that are crying, intentionally trying to trigger survivors. At 28:57, a white man in the audience holds a sign that reads “fuck your safe space”. We already discussed Milo’s insistence that many forms of assault qualify as normal behavior. This is what rape culture looks like. You can read more about the cultural elements here. Although these are more difficult to quantify, our experiences of this culture are legitimate, regardless of any white boy’s whining about the “subjectivity” of harassment.

Here’s a short video that can help contextualize the cultural aspects:

[facebook url=”https://www.facebook.com/omeletocom/videos/10154008959904494/” /]

Dictionary.com calls patriarchy “a social system in which power is held by men, through cultural norms and customs that favor men and withhold opportunity from women.” The top definition from Urban Dictionary (and a reflection of our culture) reads, “A term used by feminists, to blame men for all their problems.”

A trailer for a doc about how patriarchy hurts men too:
[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hc45-ptHMxo&w=560&h=315]

Black Lives Matter is a liberation struggle. The school-to-prison pipeline, the New Jim Crow of the prison-industrial complex and War on Drugs, the State-sponsored murder of black and brown youth across the country, and the continuation of racialized poverty and segregation constitute a system of racial oppression. These topics and more are worth researching, but you can read a short summary here.

At a certain point, the argument is over. For the survivors and allies that disrupted the event, there is no debate to be had. Rape culture is a lived experience for many women on campus. Patriarchy and white supremacy are as real as the nearly all-white, all-male United States government.

So let us be clear on at least one point: rape culture, heteronormative patriarchy, and white supremacy are not “ideas” that can be peaceably debated in a bubble on campus. They are a pre-existing reality, maintained through violence every day in this country. The sooner we realize this, the sooner we can dismantle the social hierarchies that haunt this country.

Social War

War is the continuation of politics by other means.
– Carl von Clausewitz

Nah, fam, fuck that. Politics is war continued by other means.
– Michel Foucault

(This section has a TL;DR at the end!)
If we’re to give Milo’s speech an honest “radical” treatment, we need to situate his ideas, and Milogate, within the broader social war. Social war is more than just the varying points of conflict between oppressors and the oppressed. It is social because it is built into the fabric of contemporary society. America today is an amalgamation of the power relations that rebrand and reproduce the same disparities that the old society was built on: slavery becomes Jim Crow becomes the prison-industrial complex–white supremacy survives; manifest destiny becomes imperialism becomes the Cold War becomes the War on Terror and Drugs–economic growth remains inseparable from perpetual war. It is social because there is no political solution to be found.

The way radicals see it, “politics” is the negotiation of power that administers government, and is by no means a process of progressing society towards peace, freedom, or equality. Politics is simply the forum that determines the degree of force that the government will use to reproduce existing power relations. Government is the project of finding new ways to rationalize a hierarchical society divided along lines of race, class, gender, sexuality, and a thousand other social constructs in order to prevent these tensions from reaching a boiling point. It is no coincidence that, despite all our “progress,” we really just outsourced the most visible forms of exploitation to sweatshops overseas, to ghettos beneath the freeway, and to the forced-labor of prisoners and immigrants–all in exchange for the luxury of watching helplessly from behind our iPhones as 1% of the population facilitates the destruction of the earth.

This election season, two candidates are emerging from the political “extremes,” siphoning both sides’ anger over the current power arrangement right back into the political process. The elections will determine which side will be favored in the new government’s policy compromises.   Enter, stage right: Donald Trump.

Trump is rallying the far-right elements of the Republican Party against PC culture, immigration, Islamist terrorism, Black Lives Matter, globalism, and the spectre of creeping socialism. Weeks after Trump kicked off his campaign by falsely alleging that Mexican migrants are criminals and rapists, two brothers in Boston beat a 58-year-old houseless Mexican national with a metal pole, pissing on his limp body when they were done. “Donald Trump was right,” they explained to the police, “all these illegals need to be deported.”

Instead of condemning that brutality, Trump excused it by saying “people who are following me are very passionate. They love this country and they want this country to be great again.” But the problem is less about Trump, and more about the ideological mobilization that has put him in the position to legitimize, and thus encourage, such overtly racist, violent, and proto-fascist tendencies.^{1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16}

Trump is not acting outside of the ideology and practice of the liberal establishment. With every headline scandalizing his latest xenophobic comment, the Obama administration launches another series of deportation raids. After every Republican’s warmongering, Washington expands the scope of the surveillance state. But Trump’s best contribution to the liberal establishment is probably making the Democrats look legit in comparison.

The real threat is the political realignment Trump is helping set into motion. Everyone from celebrities like Ann Coulter and Mike Tyson to the former leader of the KKK and a white supremacist super PAC from New Hampshire have endorsed Trump’s campaign. He represents a nationalist, youth-driven, anti-establishment reactionary force to be reckoned with. Milo Yiannopoulos is a Trump supporter, and so was a large contingent of the crowd in attendance, as demonstrated by the “Trump” chants and the impressive collection of Trump merch at the event.

That tangent in your letter about the word “crowd” as it was used in our original statement was unnecessary. Of course Trump-bros didn’t make up the entire audience. There were around 30 protestors alone, which clearly indicates the diversity of the audience as a whole. That doesn’t change the fact that Milo legitimized the completely immoral behavior of the crowd of Trump-bros that was present. When would it ever be ok to applaud, laugh, and point at survivors of assault in an effort to intentionally trigger them? Milo is most definitely a magnet for this kind of right-winger, as he himself is a part of Trump’s electoral movement.

The hate crimes incited by the speech of those within this new movement are well-documented. For example, to insist that there is some artificial separation between Trump’s transphobia, the transphobia of Trump’s supporters, Milo’s anti-trans article with the line about decapitating trans folx, and last year’s 13% increase in anti-trans violence (which brought anti-trans hate crimes to an all-time high) is completely ignorant of the ways in which hate and violence spread within a culture.

As we all learned as kids, ideas lead to words, which lead to actions. As Trump spits out hatred against marginalized groups, many members of minority communities are beginning to fear or actually experience upticks in identity based violence [1][2][3]. Again, to call this increase in hate crimes a coincidence is to continue to put up blinders to the reality of social war.

Foreign leaders have called America a nation that prefers evolution to revolution.  This mindset of expecting slow “progress” makes it hard for many Americans to believe that this country could ever change dramatically, or that a demagogic leader could ever embolden a proto-fascist national movement. If you don’t believe that life in America can become radically worse, very quickly, fine. Perhaps this country hasn’t changed, perhaps Trump has just brought America’s intrinsic colonialism closer to the surface.

In recognizing the historical roots of today’s social war within the ongoing white-settler colonial project, we understand that there is no peace.

To quote What They Mean When They Say Peace,

The basic idea is straightforward enough. Real peace cannot be imposed; it can only emerge as a consequence of the resolution of conflict. Hence the classic chant: no justice, no peace.

Left to itself, a state of imbalance tends to return to equilibrium. To maintain imbalances, you have to introduce force into the situation. The greater the disparities, the more force it takes to preserve them. This is as true in society as it is in physics.

That means you can’t have rich people and poor people without police to impose that unequal relation to resources. You can’t have whiteness, which inflects and stabilizes that class divide, without a vast infrastructure of racist courts and prisons. You can’t keep two and a half million people—nearly a million of them black men—behind bars without the constant exertion of potentially lethal violence. You can’t enforce the laws that protect the wealth of good liberals like Governor Nixon without officers like Darren Wilson killing black men by the hundred.

The militarization of the police is not an aberration—it is the necessary condition of a society based on hierarchy and domination. It is not just the police that have been militarized, but our entire way of life. Anyone who does not see this is not living on the business end of the guns. These are the forces of peace and justice, the mechanisms that “keep the peace” in a dramatically imbalanced social order.
[…]
Let us not resent those who get out of hand for reminding us of the conflicts that remain unresolved in our society. On the contrary, we should be grateful. They are not disturbing the peace; they are simply bringing to light that there never was any peace, there never was any justice in the first place. At tremendous risk to themselves, they are giving us a gift: a chance to recognize the suffering around us and to rediscover our capacity to identify and sympathize with those who experience it.

For we can only experience tragedies such as the death of Michael Brown for what they are when we see other people responding to them as tragedies. Otherwise, unless the events touch us directly, we remain numb. If you want people to register an injustice, you have to react to it immediately, the way people did in Ferguson. You must not wait for some better moment, not plead with the authorities, not formulate a sound bite for some imagined audience representing public opinion. You must immediately proceed to action, showing that the situation is serious enough to warrant it.

It should be clear by now that the State and its police do not protect us. Nearly 25% of survivors don’t report their assault because they fear the police. This is especially true for those of us coming from the social margins. Often, survivors from marginalized groups only have their knowledge of their experience, and maybe their friends, to back up and validate the violence that was perpetrated against them.

The criminal justice system is not designed to hold perpetrators of assault accountable because it is largely incapable of conceiving of justice outside of the quantitative defense of property. We cannot look to the decisions of American courts to determine if a man sexually assaulted a woman, or if another white cop murdered another young black man, because their courts and their laws are built on the same capitalist, white-supremacist patriarchy that perpetuates oppression in the first place.

Change will only come through building power on our own terms.

Social War, TL;DR
The American political system functions to rebrand and preserve the inequalities that the State and economy are dependent on. In order to balance the opposing social forces that this inequality creates, the State recuperates dissent into the conventional political channels through the advertising campaigns of its two competing corporations. The conservative corporation pushes the State’s social interests, while the neoliberal corporation pushes its economic interests, and the elections result in a compromise that satisfies the moderates and (partially) pacifies the radicals in both factions. In times of unrest, the State will escalate the level of physical and economic force used to impose the social inequalities, sometimes sacrificing legitimacy of the electoral process. The unrest itself polarizes the general public, and populist movements from across the political spectrum will begin to creep into the mainstream discourse of both corporations. Should the State fail to entertain the populists of both camps, it risks creating space for radical autonomous action.

In this election season, the populists are Bernie Sanders and Donald Trump. Trump’s movement represents the potential for a right-wing political realignment that may develop its capacity to escalate autonomous action, should the State fail to adequately preserve white privilege and heteropatriarchy. Much of their speech represents a physical threat to us. We’re not exactly fans of them either. So instead of relying on administrative power to “represent” the interests of a static identity group’s self-appointed leaders (which is a practice of assimilating the “respectable” members of a group at the expense of the margins), we aim to build fluid communities through acts of resistance that are guided by the logic(s) of collective liberation.

The Divorce of Thought from Deed:
On Free Speech, Debate, and Censorship

Today Western Imperialism is the imperialism of the relative, of the “It all depends on your point of view”; it’s the eye rolling or the wounded indignation at anyone who is stupid, primitive, or presumptuous enough to believe in something, to affirm anything at all.
– The Coming Insurrection

Freedom of speech means no institution has the right to censor or restrict your right to express your beliefs. For the university, free speech operates within the discourse of a “marketplace of ideas,” the notion that all platforms and perspectives can compete freely and equally in a purely academic environment. Students can buy into the ideas they like, and either debate or ignore the ideas they disagree with.

Students at UNC Chapel Hill are skeptical of this marketplace, and they are worth quoting at length. If the following sounds familiar, it’s because one of the communiqués tossed in the air by autonomous protesters (unaffiliated with any organization) was adapted from a North Carolina “Piece” Corps publication, The Divorce of Thought from Deed, alongside a shout out to the UNControllables.

In “War by Other Means: A trip through the marketplace of ideas on UNC campus,” a student writes:

In a rare moment of accidental wisdom, the U.S. Supreme Court declared in 1967, “The college classroom, with it surrounding environs, is peculiarly the marketplace of ideas.” Perhaps no better phrase can be found to characterize the social malaise, passive nihilism, and active relativism with which ideas are “debated” on campus at UNC. Here, ideas are not so much exchanged as general commodities, per se, but more specifically bought and sold like gas station candy bars, with all the import, value, and meaning those entail. “You like Baby Ruths more than Snickers? Ok, ok, that’s fine, but why get so worked up about it? It’s only a candy bar!”

Every aspect of this marketplace allusion, or should I say, illusion, is implied in the economic analogy: an isolation from the real physical world of violently conflicting social forces, a consequent lack of moral or ethical urgency, a pretense of equality in the mass media distribution of and financial investment in the ideas themselves, and an ahistorical understanding of the social position which the ideas in question have been assigned to…

An exchange of ideas which occurs with no underlying threat that those ideas might become reality, with no possibility of action, is a meaningless exchange…

Specifically, YWC [Youth for Western Civilization] opponents understand that debates around what is and is not white supremacist do not occur in a bubble, but in a society whose entire economic and political machinery was built upon and is maintained by racial hierarchies. Any debate around race takes place somewhere in that hierarchy, which is a structure that is permanently maintained by violence.

This violence isn’t just rhetoric. If students were to talk to Northside neighbors about police harassment, or have some honest conversations with the day laborers Jones Ferry Rd. about the conditions that brought them to the US, this would all be readily apparent. The realities that force people to move here from the Global South, that cause people to take undervalued service work jobs on campus, are all conditioned by coercion and violence. To speak of the “free and equal exchange” of perspectives about immigration in a country where migrant workers die of pesticide exposure and families face deportation, where border walls partition the once-whole territories of indigenous people and private corporations run immigrant detention centers, is laughable. A debate where one side has the power to arrest, imprison, deport, or murder the other side is no debate at all. The “marketplace of ideas” model pretends to freeze these conflicts in order to conduct debate outside of real space and time, somehow removed from a physical world where the fate of migrants is not guided by ideas per se but actually by police, judges, racist vigilantes, bankers, authorities, wealth, power, interests.

Critics of the marketplace of ideas understand that in a country where nearly every textbook, every classroom, and every TV-screened political debate affirm the basic logic of capitalism and the State, the “free and equal exchange of ideas” is a hollow gesture. Given this larger context, most dialogue around “issues” is just a superficial repetition of foregone conclusions, based on the unexamined larger frameworks for understanding that we’ve already been given. This is what passes for “debate” in this society. It should be no surprise that its function is to keep things as they are.

What’s more, what is the point of debate if there is no sanctioned action to achieve the results of that debate? If every xenophobe was suddenly convinced of the barbarity of the Border, would the wall suddenly crumble? We would still find ourselves in a place where our only choices lie between the endless deliberations of useless politicians, on the one hand, and the direct action of our own social forces, on the other.

So this all raises the question: What happens when the debate is over? Do we act then? But what if our acting stifles further debate? Is that bad? When do we act?

The point of the “marketplace of ideas” is to ensure that the debate never ends, so that we never act. Debate only has meaning when we are prepared to act on our beliefs, to take risks beyond those of the classroom. This is why, despite the whining of Thorp and the Daily Tar Heel about the silencing of free speech, debate around issues of speech, immigration, and white supremacy was actually stronger after the events of past April. Debate has substance when it occurs in an honest context that reflects the daily, physical conflicts occurring inside and outside of the University. Discussion and critique must be imbued with the urgency of real life.

It would be interesting to ask what would have happened had anti-racists instead obeyed the expected rules for civil discourse. Tancredo’s speech could have proceeded uninterrupted, while he insulted immigrants and Hispanic culture generally, until eventually students would have gotten their chance to ask him some “hard questions.” He would have answered them politely, the students would feel a small nagging frustration, and everyone would go home peacefully to a world where immigrants are being incarcerated and deported, families separated, workers fired, and migrants killed. Surely little attention would have been paid to the event at all… Capitalizing on its new political legitimacy, the group might eventually have grown large enough to push policy changes at UNC, keeping undocumented students out of the classroom, making sure cops weren’t accountable for any racial profiling, among other things. All the while, the vast majority of UNC students could rest assured that there was nothing important enough to get worked up about…

Thankfully, this isn’t what happened. A tiny spark of excitement and tension was instead injected into campus life, along with the possibility of challenging not just a tiny racist student group but the larger framework of how we do politics.

From the autonomous communiqué:

Just last month in Pittsburgh, Janese Talton Jackson was shot to death for telling a man “no.” Is a woman really as free to express herself as a man, when even a simple “no” can get her killed?

Ideas alone have no intrinsic force. Our capacity to act on our beliefs, not just to express them, determines how much power we have. In this sense, the “free speech in crisis” slogan is strikingly apt: in America, you need capital (and often times some good ol’ white cis-male privilege) to participate, and the more capital you have, the greater your ability to enact the ideas you buy into.

Our Position
Some of those opposed to Milo’s presence are organizing for institutional recourse. Their demands center around punitive action against the individuals responsible for inviting Milo, as well as the installment of new university guidelines that would prevent such a speaker from being invited to our campus again. Though we understand such desires and respect the value of a multiplicity of tactics, PSSC refuses to pursue these goals. Our rationale:

1. To deny our opponents the right to invite whatever speakers they please is to set a harmful precedent to be deployed against our own speech. As radicals, we realize the capacity of groups and individuals to say what they please cannot be contingent upon anyone else’s demands; whether that outside force be public opinion or institutional repression, using it as a bludgeon to silence debate is a violation of one of the most fundamental tenets of human liberty. We affirm the right of Pitt College Republicans to say what they want, and are merely exercising our individual and organizational strength in response. Our actions, perceived by the privileged as “censorship,” are in reality the true face of free speech freed from ideological constraint.
2. Reliance on institutional recourse is what divides liberals from radicals. Liberals believe that it is possible to reform institutions — whether schools or markets or governments — to serve the public interest. This well-intentioned faith falls apart upon examining the role of institutions throughout history in neutralizing grassroots movements. From the struggle for Black liberation to the LGBTQ* movement, government action has served for decades to defuse the tension brought about by mass movements while eliciting the bare minimum amount of change needed to suppress dissent. “Democracy,” as it functions in America, is little more than a pressure valve for would-be dissidents: blow off some steam by voting for edgy candidates like Trump or Bernie, and siphon alternative political organizing efforts into establishment electoral campaigns. As discussed in the UNC zine, the university is no different. Our role as radicals is to mobilize the community, for there is no institution on Earth capable of withstanding the weight of popular resistance. A top-down approach will not change the minds of our fellow students who think intentionally triggering survivors is acceptable under any circumstances. These pernicious attitudes can only be challenged through a community-oriented and community-organized approach.

We don’t recognize the State’s monopoly on granting and protecting basic rights, but we do acknowledge its history of taking them away. Should the liberals succeed in “reforming” the SGB and administration in order to censor controversial speakers, we will march side by side with the Pitt College Republicans to defend free speech. Besides, while radicals may have more in common with liberal views around social issues and policies regarding the public sector, we have far more in common with libertarians when it comes to our belief in decentralization, our commitment to our 1st and 2nd amendment rights, our resistance to the militarization of the police and government surveillance, our opposition to liberal trade agreements that outsource jobs and hurt local businesses, 420 blaze it, and especially our hatred of respectability politics and authority. It’s really a shame that so many libertarians are racist, misogynist jagoffs.

Like Milo, we believe that in order to be heard over all the noise and static of outrage culture, you have to be outrageous. That’s why we disrupted him. Our hatred for oppression, our intolerance of intolerance, compels us to act. We knew that this would be the largest far-right gathering on campus in recent memory. We chose to confront those that would treat oppression like something to joke about, to “debate,” to perpetuate. Talk is cheap. Direct action gets the goods.

Solidarity means mutual aid. We must support one another emotionally and materially. The safe space is a tactic in advancing the practice of mutual aid, as it is important for facilitating honest discussion, healing, reclaiming collective memory, and avoiding the bullshit that would derail productive organizing work. But mutual aid means we must also build on our capacity to defend ourselves against fascists and the State.

Solidarity means action. We must educate, agitate, and organize our peers and communities. But we must also diversify our movements, conspire with people from vastly different backgrounds than our own, and inspire action that’s worth telling our children about.

Solidarity means attack. The systems of oppression will not wither away by “raising awareness” about the issues or through gradual reform. Change will only come through disrupting the illusions of “civil debate” and “peace” that disguise the violence of everyday life, through blockading the flow of normalcy that reproduces the logic of the system, through occupying and repurposing capitalist infrastructure in order to win physical ground and organize a material force, and through dismantling the institutions of oppression with a diversity of tactics. We’re not so arrogant as to call ourselves revolutionaries, but we do believe in revolution.

We hope you pick a side and act it out.
Pittsburgh Student Solidarity Coalition

*Endnotes:

[1] Angus Johnston, a history professor at the City University of New York, said that trigger warnings can be a part of “sound pedagogy,” noting that students encountering potentially triggering material are “coming to it as whole people with a wide range of experiences, and that the journey we’re going on together may at times be painful. It’s not coddling them to acknowledge that.” In February of 2014, students at the University of California, Santa Barbara, passed a resolution that urged professors among others to institute mandatory trigger warnings on class syllabi. Professors who present “content that may trigger the onset of symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder” would be required to issue advance alerts and allow students to skip those classes. Mathias Weymar of the University of Greifswald in Germany, conducted a study to identify what happens in the brain when we unintentionally remember emotional moments to better help people who are depressed, suffer from PTSD, or otherwise have traumatic memories that create problems during everyday life. The study found that emotionally evocative cues trigger familiarity-based episodic retrieval even when the brain is not instructed to retrieve the memory. Episodic memory is the memory of events associated with specific times, places, and emotions.

[2] The Post-Milo Solidarity event was hosted to brainstorm ways to build community, not to “prove” the necessity of these efforts. This event helped advance our ongoing projects to compile a list safe-houses, to build a support network that folks can contact if they need help getting away from unsafe situations at parties, and to organize share fairs to distribute free food, clothing, tampons and other essentials to those who need them.

Selected report-backs and statements from PSSC weekly updates – 2015 

Sweatshops Will Never be in Style!
About 15 people from USAS Local #31 and #123 paid a visit to the sweatshop-exploiting H&M in the South Side on Saturday [9.26]. While three people delivered a letter to the management, three others snuck up to the second floor to drop a banner that read “Sweatshops Will Never be in Style.” They then regrouped with the others to chant and hand out flyers to customers, briefly ignoring a security guard that was trying to get them to leave. Eventually they left the building but continued to chant and march around the entrance and hand out flyers.

Corporations abuse and exploit the labor of other countries, regardless of how many are impoverished or killed because of their actions. Unless we can hit them where it hurts – their profit margins – they will continue to get rich off the misery of others. People can bring about change by giving these corporations a bad public image, by disrupting business as usual, by getting our schools to stop buying from them, by extending our boycotts, and through direct action. All you need is a few friends.

***

Bah Humbug, Climate Scrooges! #FloodTheSystem 

Pitt News coverage // Footage 

After the recent confrontation with anti-choicers on Pitt’s campus, an ideological split as old as the University is surfacing yet again. This is the first in a series of compilations we will be printing that will include perspectives on disruptive tactics, the discourse of free speech, social immediacy, and what it means to put your beliefs into practice.

The original zine can be downloaded in a print-ready format HERE. Check out NC Piece Corps for more like it.

The following zine was written in the fall of 2009, partly in response to the administrative and liberal backlashes against the successes of YWC opponents, and partly as a broader critique of the “marketplace of ideas” concept. YWC, or Youth for Western Civilization, is a white supremacist student group. After a sustained and militant anti-racist campaign, the group was essentially driven off campus – despite the University’s best efforts to protect it for the sake of “free speech”.

On a most basic level, this piece asserts that the equality of actors intrinsic to the “marketplace of ideas” is a myth only made possible by the illusion of the University’s separation from the rest of society. 

War by Other Means:
A trip through the marketplace of ideas on UNC campus

Today Western Imperialism is the imperialism of the relative, of the “It all depends on your point of view”; it’s the eye rolling or the wounded indignation at anyone who is stupid, primitive, or presumptuous enough to believe in something, to affirm anything at all. – The Coming Insurrection

In a rare moment of accidental wisdom, the U.S. Supreme Court declared in 1967, “The college classroom, with it surrounding environs, is peculiarly the marketplace of ideas.” Perhaps no better phrase can be found to characterize the social malaise, passive nihilism, and active relativism with which ideas are “debated” on campus at UNC. Here, ideas are not so much exchanged as general commodities, per se, but more specifically bought and sold like gas station candy bars, with all the import, value, and meaning those entail. “You like Baby Ruths more than Snickers? Ok, ok, that’s fine, but why get so worked up about it? It’s only a candy bar!”

Every aspect of this marketplace allusion, or should I say, illusion, is implied in the economic analogy: an isolation from the real physical world of violently conflicting social forces, a consequent lack of moral or ethical urgency, a pretense of equality in the mass media distribution of and financial investment in the ideas themselves , and an ahistorical understanding of the social position which the ideas in question have been assigned to.

Somewhere in this silly “environ,” the concept of free speech emerges, pathetically attempting to assert itself with some meaning in a world where no student really cares, and no student group is particularly willing to risk anything: to extend itself beyond the safety and comfort of the teach-in or the permitted demo in order to turn their idea into a reality. And this is where the marketplace of ideas becomes just like any other marketplace: a house of cards built on faith and rhetoric, waiting to be either dismantled or transformed into its more overtly fascist counterpart as soon as a truly active opposition emerges.

An exchange of ideas which occurs with no underlying threat that those ideas might become reality, with no possibility of action, is a meaningless exchange. This is why every year student groups face almost complete turnover, why service clubs are more popular than “activism,” why the apolitical always seems to triumph over the potential for transforming the University into a place that could actually challenge our social conditions.

“No critique is too radical among postmodernist thinkers, as long as it maintains a total absence of certitude. A century ago, scandal was identified with any particularly unruly and raucous negation, while today it’s found in any affirmation that fails to tremble. “ – The Coming Insurrection

In the past 8 or 9 months, UNC’s administration, in partnership with the Daily Tar Heel and the leadership of several student groups, has gone on the offensive to promote this concept of the marketplace of ideas. In response to repeated challenges from forces, both in and outside of the University, that stand in active opposition to the ultra-right-wing Youth for Western Civilization, this coalition of mediators, moderates, and bureaucrats have taken a normally unspoken framework implied by the inertia and timidity of campus “politics” and turned it into a vocal institution in and of itself.

Soon after the wildly successful disruption of a speaking event hosted by YWC on April 14th, in which an anti-immigrant ex-congressman was forced into an undignified trot upon being chased off by anti-racists, Chancellor Thorp sent an email to all students, condemning the largely participatory action and calling for a return to civil discourse. To a certain extent, his public shaming worked: just days later, leaders of both CHISPA, a Latino student group, as well as members of the Black Student Movement and student body president Jasmin Jones gathered in a circle with several members of the white supremacist YWC to hold hands and sing the school anthem. Cameras flashed, journalists rejoiced, and everything seemed to return to normal.

On another level, however, his shaming was a failure. A second YWC event was also disrupted, as well as protested from outside. Propaganda around campus continued to go up, urging fellow students to not be fooled by YWC’s attempts at political legitimacy or by calls for polite dialogue with a hate group. This work had its affect. Despite the DTH and Thorp’s pleas for civility and appeals to the marketplace of ideas, YWC’s advisor Chris Clemens quit his post, citing the group as too “inflammatory” and a magnet for “extreme left-wing” protests. In other words, the protests worked.

Actions have continued against YWC: on the first day of fall classes, 3,000 copies of the Daily Tar Heel were wrapped with a “special anti-racist edition,” which detailed YWC’s racist origins as well as the false opposition presented by liberal discourse around white supremacy and protest. A pamphlet exposing YWC’s new advisor as a racist collaborator prompted him into overreaction, thus causing the second resignation of a faculty sponsor. In order to combat this continued campaign, Thorp gave $3,000 out of a private fund to YWC, and personally sought three new advisors for the group, one of whom (Jon Curtis) is himself the head director of student organizations and activities. A conflict of interest, perhaps?!

Nearly every faculty member, bureaucrat, or student associated with YWC has publicly gone on record as opposing YWC’s national mission statement. And yet, amazingly, these professed “liberals” are the only thing keeping the group alive, pathetic martyrs to the existence of an idea that has no visible proponents on our campus. It’s one big joke: the idea that an idea’s opponents are obliged to support it merely so those opponents have something with which to peacefully debate. It is nonsense that can only be explained by the weakness of the administration’s position: With only one or two actual members, no public meetings, and a president that publicly criticizes his own group, YWC is in affect dead in the water. The anti-racists have basically won. So YWC becomes a corpse on life support, maintained by a concept of ideological exchange that is as meaningless as it is irrelevant to the way in which ideas actually travel in the real world.

Containing all affirmations and deactivating all certainties as they irresistibly come to light – such is the long labor of the Western intellect. The police and philosophy are two convergent, if formally distinct, means to this end. – The Coming Insurrection

The reason the administration and some faculty are so desperate to assure YWC’s “rightful place” is that the group’s abolition would be a tremendous defeat for the Liberal conception of the University, a rupture with how and why students are taught to enter into debate. The administration understands what most students do not, that in breaking with the marketplace of ideas, anti-racists presented an active critique of the primary tenets of Liberal discourse. More and more students around the country are challenging this discourse: from occupations and tree-sitting at UC-Santa Cruz to the shutting down of a speech by once-Homeland Security Secretary Tom Ridge in New York, the rickety framework of Liberalism is in shambles. Students wonder, could there be another way of doing politics?

Specifically, YWC opponents understand that debates around what is and is not white supremacist do not occur in a bubble, but in a society whose entire economic and political machinery was built upon and is maintained by racial hierarchies. Any debate around race takes place somewhere in that hierarchy, which is a structure that is permanently maintained by violence.

This violence isn’t just rhetoric. If students were to talk to Northside neighbors about police harassment, or have some honest conversations with the day laborers Jones Ferry Rd. about the conditions that brought them to the US, this would all be readily apparent. The realities that force people to move here from the Global South, that cause people to take shitty service work jobs on campus, are all conditioned by coercion and violence. To speak of the “free and equal exchange” of perspectives about immigration in a country where migrant workers die of pesticide exposure and families face deportation, where border walls partition the once-whole territories of indigenous people and private corporations run immigrant detention centers, is laughable. A debate where one side has the power to arrest, imprison, deport, or murder the other side is no debate at all. The “marketplace of ideas” model pretends to freeze these conflicts in order to conduct debate outside of real space and time, somehow removed from a physical world where the fate of migrants is not guided by ideas per se but actually by police, judges, racist vigilantes, bankers, authorities, wealth, power, interests.

Critics of the marketplace of ideas understand that in a country where nearly every textbook, every classroom, and every TV-screened political debate affirm the basic logic of capitalism and the State, the “free and equal exchange of ideas” is a hollow gesture. Given this larger context, most dialogue around “issues” is just a superficial repetition of foregone conclusions, based on the unexamined larger frameworks for understanding that we’ve already been given. This is what passes for “debate” in this society. It should be no surprise that its function is to keep things as they are.

What’s more, what is the point of debate if there is no sanctioned action to achieve the results of that debate? If every xenophobe was suddenly convinced of the barbarity of the Border, would the wall suddenly crumble? We would still find ourselves in a place where our only choices lie between the endless deliberations of useless politicians, on the one hand, and the direct action of our own social forces, on the other.

“War is nothing more than the continuation of politics by other means.” Karl Von Clausewitz

So this all raises the question: What happens when the debate is over? Do we act then? But what if our acting stifles further debate? Is that bad? When do we act?

The point of the “marketplace of ideas” is to ensure that the debate never ends, so that we never act. Debate only has meaning when we are prepared to act on our beliefs, to take risks beyond those of the classroom. This is why, despite the whining of Thorp and the Daily Tar Heel about the silencing of free speech, debate around issues of speech, immigration, and white supremacy was actually stronger after the events of past April. Debate has substance when it occurs in an honest context that reflects the daily, physical conflicts occurring inside and outside of the University. Discussion and critique must be imbued with the urgency of real life.

It would be interesting to ask what would have happened had anti-racists instead obeyed the expected rules for civil discourse. Tancredo’s speech could have proceeded uninterrupted, while he insulted immigrants and Hispanic culture generally, until eventually students would have gotten their chance to ask him some “hard questions.” He would have answered them politely, the students would feel a small nagging frustration, and everyone would go home peacefully to a world where immigrants are being incarcerated and deported, families separated, workers fired, and migrants killed. Surely little attention would have been paid to the event at all. NPR wouldn’t have done a story about the immigration debate, Mexican journalists wouldn’t have written sympathetic articles about pro-immigrant UNC students. YWC would probably have continued to grow, and had no trouble finding a new president this fall. Capitalizing on its new political legitimacy, the group might eventually have grown large enough to push policy changes at UNC, keeping undocumented students out of the classroom, making sure cops weren’t accountable for any racial profiling, among other things. All the while, the vast majority of UNC students could rest assured that there was nothing important enough to get worked up about. The cowardice and apprehension of campus “activism” would have gone untested.

Thankfully, this isn’t what happened. A tiny spark of excitement and tension was instead injected into campus life, along with the possibility of challenging not just a tiny racist student group but the larger framework of how we do politics. In reaction to this possibility, the administration is now actively aiding a group whose goal is the growth of a “right-wing youth movement on campus.” Thorp is doing this under the rubric of the marketplace of ideas, assuring the existence of a defunct group so that he can save face and make a bizarre gesture towards a skewed version of “free speech.”

Nevertheless, the unstable marketplace has been challenged, and for some, the house of cards has fallen. The administration has now shown its true colors, that it will actively aid a racist tendency if it means protecting the notion of Liberalism, thus preventing any kind of break with the current University framework. Students must decide whether or not they have the courage to act against the Administration on this issue, or will instead sit idly by while anti-immigrant ideas gain a foothold on our campus under the protection of the marketplace of ideas.

Free Speech FAQ:

myths around fascism and free speech

Stopping fascists from speaking makes you just as bad as them.

You could just as easily say that not stopping fascists from speaking—giving them the opportunity to organize to impose their agenda on the rest of us—makes you as bad as them. If you care about freedom, don’t stand idly by while people mobilize to take it away.

Shouldn’t we just ignore them? They want attention, and if we give it to them we’re letting them win.

Actually, fascists usually don’t want to draw attention to their organizing; they do most of it in secret for fear that an outraged public will shut them down. They only organize public events to show potential recruits that they have power, and to try to legitimize their views as part of the political spectrum. By publicly opposing fascists, we make it clear to them—and more importantly, to anyone else interested in joining them—that they will not be able to consolidate power over us without a fight. Ignoring fascists only allows them to organize unhindered, and history shows that this can be very dangerous. Better we shut them down once and for all.

The best way to defeat fascism is to let them express their views so that everyone can see how ignorant they are. We can refute them more effectively with ideas than force.

People don’t become fascists because they find their ideas persuasive; they become fascists for the same reason others become police officers or politicians: to wield power over other people. It’s up to us to show that fascist organizing will not enable them to obtain this power, but will only result in public humiliation. That is the only way to cut off their source of potential recruits.

History has shown over and over that fascism is not defeated by ideas alone, but by popular self-defense. We’re told that if all ideas are debated openly, the best one will win out, but this fails to account for the reality of unequal power. Fascists can be very useful to those with power and privilege, who often supply them with copious resources; if they can secure more airtime and visibility for their ideas than we can, we would be fools to limit ourselves to that playing field. We can debate their ideas all day long, but if we don’t prevent them from building the capacity to make them reality, it won’t matter.

Neo-Nazis are irrelevant; institutionalized racism poses the real threat today, not the extremists at the fringe.

The bulk of racism takes place in subtle, everyday forms. But fascist visibility enables other right-wing groups to frame themselves as moderates, helping to legitimize the racist and xenophobic assumptions underlying their positions and the systems of power and privilege they defend. Taking a stand against fascists is an essential step toward discredit- ing the structures and values at the root of institutionalized racism.

Here and worldwide, fascists still terrorize and murder people because of racial, religious, and sexual difference. It’s both naïve and disrespectful to their victims to gloss over the past and present realities of fascist violence. Because fascists believe in acting directly to carry out their agenda rather than limiting themselves to the apparatus of representative democracy, they can be more dangerous proportionate to their numbers than other bigots. This makes it an especially high priority to deal with them swiftly.

Free speech means protecting everyone’s right to speak, including people you don’t agree with. How would you like it if you had an unpopular opinion and other people were trying to silence you?

We oppose fascists because of what they do, not what they say. We’re not opposed to free speech; we’re opposed to the fact that they advance an agenda of hate and terror. We have no power to censor them; thanks to the “neutrality” of the capitalist market, they continue to publish hate literature in print and the internet. But we will not let them come into our communities to build the power they need to enact their hatred.

The government and the police have never protected everyone’s free speech equally, and never will. It is in their self-interest to repress views and actions that challenge existing power inequalities. They will spend hundreds of thousands of taxpayers’ dollars on riot police, helicopters, and sharpshooters to defend a KKK rally, but if there’s an anarchist rally the same police will be there to stop it, not to protect it.

Anarchists don’t like being silenced by the state—but we don’t want the state to define and manage our freedom, either. Unlike the ACLU, whose supposed defense of “freedom” leads them to support the KKK and others like them, we support self-defense and self-determination above all. What’s the purpose of free speech, if not to foster a world free from oppression? Fascists oppose this vision; thus we oppose fascism by any means necessary.

If fascists don’t have a platform to express their views peacefully, it will drive them to increasingly violent means of expression.

Fascists are only attempting to express their views “peacefully” in order to lay the groundwork for violent activity. Because fascists require a veneer of social legitimacy to be able to carry out their program, giving them a platform to speak opens the door to their being able to do physical harm to people. Public speech promoting ideologies of hate, whether or not you consider it violent on its own, always complements and correlates with violent actions. By affiliating themselves with movements and ideologies based on oppression and genocide, fascists show their intention to carry on these legacies of violence—but only if they can develop a base of support.

Trying to suppress their voices will backfire by generating interest in them.

Resistance to fascism doesn’t increase interest in fascist views. If anything, liberals mobilizing to defend fascists on free speech grounds increases interest in their views by conferring legitimacy on them. This plays directly into their organizing goals, allowing them to drive a wedge between their opponents using free speech as a smokescreen. By tolerating racism, homophobia, anti-Semitism, and xenophobia, so-called free speech advocates are complicit in the acts of terror fascist organizing makes possible.

They have rights like everybody else.

No one has the right to threaten our community with violence. Likewise, we reject the “right” of the government and police—who have more in common with fascists than they do with us—to decide for us when fascists have crossed the line from merely express- ing themselves into posing an immediate threat. We will not abdicate our freedom to judge when and how to defend ourselves.

The University of Pittsburgh’s student orientation guide: Very Dank Edition

Disorientation: The Task Ahead of Us

Welcome to Pitt! From the prison of high school, it looked cool and inviting, full of new freedoms and the chance to learn something real for the first time. But soon enough, you’ll watch the excitement fade. The task of orientation is to clue you in on what’s ahead, to provide a glimpse into the new social terrain.

Pitt is the rich suburban kid’s first real glimpse of something resembling diversity. Pitt is the working class kid’s first five-figure loan. Pitt is Chancellor Gallagher, decked out in the best suits money can buy, threading his way through the lines of underpaid janitors, cooks and security guards rallying outside his office for a better contract and a living wage. Pitt is a private police force harassing people of color on Forbes, or taking pictures of student protestors to build files on troublemakers. Pitt is breaking your roommate’s friend’s brand-name bong underneath the Schenley Bridge. Pitt is the ongoing gentrification of North Oakland and outright colonization of South Oakland.

Pitt just raised tuition again this year.

Aging high school rebels now rail lines of crushed-up Adderall in library bathrooms. Teenaged football stars now stagger from the frat party to the Econ recitation. Entire semesters spent studying the latest scientific forecasts of the coming century’s mass extinctions, ocean acidification and sea level rise of five to fifteen feet are consumed with the same glazed eyes found scattered across a college algebra seminar. Lectures on the tipping points recently crossed, on the massive population displacements and inevitable global destabilization, elicit raised eyebrows but nothing more. After all, tomorrow is Thirsty Thursday and my geology lab was due yesterday.

As the illusion of social peace crumbles with this year’s uprisings in Ferguson, Baltimore, Seattle and the Bay Area, Pitt invites you to spend your free time drinking in sweaty basements, to join the iPhone Generation and the growing army of debt-ridden interns. After all, you are some of the smartest people they could find and you’re needed on the team – the Clinton team, the Trump team, the IBM team – pick it, there’s a slot for you somewhere.

All this and more is yours for just four easy payments of $28,000! Welcome to Pitt.

I guess you could say that we – the small group of your new classmates who wrote this nonsense – are a little jaded. Of course it’s not all bad; Pittsburgh is a pretty awesome city. But we can’t help but to feel there is something missing from Pitt’s campus culture. It is an absence that speaks to those vague, fleeting thoughts so many students drag from the classroom to the library. Sure, it’s easy to drown out the doubts leftover from those first college applications with weekend binges and house shows, but perhaps it was the entire high school experience that left us suspicious to begin with. There is a rational angst that we struggle to articulate: the absurdity of what we accept as “normal” today.

We browse shopping malls for aesthetics and attitudes, and then fiddle with social media and smartphones until they fit just right. We namedrop brands and artists as if they count as our own expression, and then we scoff at the banality of our parties and scenes as if we play no part in their creation. Our perceptions of both the successful career and our own imaginations have been swept away by notions more lavish and distant than Aldous Huxley could write about. Apathy is hip.

But how can we students even think to blame ourselves? Youth today look toward a future deflated by ecological and economic collapse; a future where opportunity is postponed in light of the immediacy of debt, stagnating wages, and corporate oligarchy. A future where the promise of sustainability is found exclusively on billboards advertising “clean” coal, “green” skyscrapers, or hope, change, and vote; a future where even the most optimistic visions of climate change include mass migrations, displacements, and extinctions.

The point is we do not choose to be apathetic. Rather, apathy has been institutionalized, integrated into the relationships we have with education, work and culture. Education does not cater to our personal needs and desires, but is instead intended to prepare us for participation in the market.

The logic of the market is also now the logic of the classroom. Students are customers, paying for-profit businesses to consume “products” in the form of marketable career paths. After all, you need to go to college to land a good job. Our understanding of what it means to be a student is confined to a sort of profit-driven pragmatism, where the pursuit of knowledge ultimately becomes a race to the ever-shrinking job market.

This race places us in direct competition with other students to determine who will have access to the most resources upon graduating. But so many people are enrolling in school that the job market is oversaturated with college degrees, and by the time some students finally have enough credentials to follow their dreams they’re pushing 30 and working just to pay back loans.

And so we approach education with the same tired indifference we dedicate to the part-time jobs that prevent us from sleeping in on weekends.

The atmosphere inside today’s classroom is disorienting. Feedback comes in the form of customer satisfaction surveys. The curriculum is set before the teacher even meets their students. Discussions of real world events never extend beyond the speculative bubble of academia, where debate is applauded so long as it neglects social immediacy; systemic racism is discussed without reference to the intersection being shut down by protestors right outside the classroom window.

And just what are students here for anyway? You would think the $1.2 trillion in student loans, a figure that inversely correlates with state funding cuts, would at least give college graduates some sort of edge in the race to the job market, but reality is as sobering as the bills. Over 40 million students will be graduating in a worse financial situation than any generation in American history. Nearly the entire prospective labor force is already faced with a lower standard of living than that of their parents.

But work hard, play hard, amirite?

There’s potential for so much more than this. The curtain is lifting on the same scene at universities all over this country. Whether it’s Berkeley, or Madison, or NYU, students have discovered that the only way to learn anything is to reclaim our passion, and the only way to make life truly exciting is to fight back.

How you fight is entirely up to you. We painted the situation with a broad brush, but students aren’t so monolithic. Our generation is bigger and more diverse than the Baby Boomers, and we all have different interests, needs, desires… maybe you want to throw parties where sexist assholes are kicked out, maybe you want to use your parents’ money to buy weed to share with your classmates who can’t afford it, maybe you want to “redecorate” the walls and alleyways of Oakland, maybe you want to join a student group that vibes with what you feel, maybe you want to kick our asses for writing this bullshit. The point is nothing’s going to change unless you act in your own interests, here and now.

Let’s fuck shit up this year.

***

[Adapted from “The Task Ahead of Us” – Filler #3 – Pittsburgh 2015, Communiqué from an Absent Future – Research and Destroy – California, 2009, Welcome to NYU – New York, 1968]

[The original, print-ready pdf is available at the bottom of the page at The Anarchist Library ]