ABOLISYON! – Defend the Marihangin 10 and Ka Ondo: Carcerality and Dispossession in Bugsuk

Posted on 02/06/2025 by muntjac

Forwarded from: https://bandilangitim.xyz/library/abolisyon-defend-the-marihangin-10-and-ka-ondo-en

For several years now, the Indigenous peoples and surrounding communities of Bugsuk in Southern Palawan have been at the forefront of combating luxury tourism projects by the San Miguel Corporation (SMC). In the latest episode, the people of Marihangin, Bugsuk, Palawan have been resisting the latest attack on their land that has been ongoing for several weeks now. SMC has repeatedly hired armed goons from the Jewelmer Corporation and JMV Security Services to invade and pillage land in sitio Marihangin for their nefarious project. SMC is aided and abetted by the Philippine National Police (PNP), the courts, and the National Commission on Indigenous Peoples (NCIP) in a holy alliance to steal the ancestral domains of the Molbog, Palaw’an, and Cagayanen peoples of Bugsuk. To this end, the State incarcerated and charged the Marihangin 10, leaders in the Marihangin community, on charges of “grave coercion” for defending their lands from the goons of former NCIP executive Caesar Ortega and the SMC’s own Ramon S. Ang.

This holy alliance between the oligarchs, moneymen, and the bureaucrats conspires to build a luxury resort on the corpses of the brave people of Marihangin. Abolitionists understand that the systems of police, prisons, and courts—whole systems and logics of control known as carcerality—function to preserve the order of profit and domination. As abolitionists, we do not call on the government to preserve the “rule of law,” for it is the very rule of law that arrested and charged the Marihangin 10 and the arrest of Oscar “Ondo” Pelayo, community leader fighting against the theft of their land. The “rule of law” stands for the theft of land, for the continuing of the logics of colonization upon Indigenous communities. We call for not only the dropping of charges on ka Ondo Pelayo and the Marihangin 10, but for the Filipino people to resist against the regime of policing and incarceration.

This regime of policing and incarceration was put in place by colonization. Indeed, the systems of police and prisons the American colonial government instituted in the Philippines was so effective, it was reimplemented in the United States to crush the worker’s movement there. Colonization has institutionalized structures of policing and incarceration in this country. As post-colonized inhabitants of this archipelago, we understand that decolonization will not be complete until the institutions of colonization—the state, the police, the prisons, the corporations—are abolished, and the lands returned to their tillers and Indigenous stewards.

The episodes of land-grabbing in Bugsuk has been ongoing since the Marcos dictatorship and the injustice will continue as long as the systems of injustice and carcerality remain.

Hands off Bugsuk! Drop all charges against the Marihangin 10 and ka Ondo!

Landback! Decolonization now! Defend the land stewards!

Buwagin ang kapulisan! — Abolish the police!

Gibain ang mga kulungan! — Tear down the prisons!

Call For Articles – Issue 3: Spirituality

Posted on 01/06/2025 by muntjac

Call For Articles

Issue 3: Spirituality

We’re looking for articles, poetry, prose, interviews*, direct responses to other pieces of writing and book/film reviews on Spirituality written by Global Majority** Anarchists and anti-authoritarians. The window for submissions will close on the 1st of October and the magazine will be released on Anarchist Martyrs Night (November 11th)***

A conflicting relationship between religion, mysticism, spirituality and anarchism has always existed. We’ve seen it play out so many times online, in organising spaces and the movements we’re a part of. Some find it incompatible with anarchist thought, some have beliefs rooted in (non) otherworldly forces without needing religion to explain it, whilst others find the spectra of religious and spiritual practices to be parallel to their anarchist ideals.

Few publications have considered the relationship between the compatibility and incompatibility of these ideologies, but even more so. none have ever created the space for exploration of all positions in between.

We encourage submissions of all – from the believers and non-believers, the practicing, the skeptical to outright disillusioned. The aim of this issue is to inspire critical thought and discussion. Areas of focus can include, but are not limited to: religious/spiritual/mystic anarchism, anarchist Abrahamic religious interpretations, parallels between anarchism and religion/spirituality/mysticism and power, anarchist theology etc.

Submissions are welcome in any language as long as we can translate it using online tools or if you’re happy to provide it in both English and another language. You do NOT need to write in an academic register. There is no minimum length, but a maximum would be around 4000 words, anything larger than that might be better off as an individual zine. (Which we’d love to help with!)

Email us at fawnarchy@grrlz.net [Feel free to use https://tempr.email/]

We prefer it when people send us their submission as plain text inside of an email or Signal DM (rather than attaching a cryptpad, Google Drive, Word document, Open Office file of ZIP of your submission.) as this takes more time to re-format and slows down our emails.

Our only advice would be to be honest, to be vulnerable. We, as a group vary widely: Some of us were raised in religious conservative communities in the diaspora here in England and as such, some of us walked away from spirituality as we grew older, some of us are converts, some of us are true believers, some of us are members of persecuted Ethno-Religious groups who are only here because of oppression by regional hegemonic powers.

Some of us have altars and some of us would refuse to bow before one.

*We can conduct these if you ask nicely and give us enough time and context.

**Global Majority in this context refers to the people(s) who make up the majority of the world’s population, i.e. everyone but white people.

***”The Galleanists commemorated three holidays each year: the anniversary of the start of the Paris Commune on March 18, May Day, and the anniversary of the Haymarket executions on November 11. Some of us have been commemorating November 11 as Anarchist Martyrs’ Night for the past four years, and we propose a more widespread revival of this tradition within the anarchist galaxy. Gather with friends, read aloud the words of our anarchist ancestors who died for Anarchy but more importantly those who lived for it, make offerings of fire and beauty.”

[From T*inderbox, Issue 2, “Ten Theses on Spiritual Anarchy”]

https://muntjacmag.noblogs.org/submissions

June 11, 2025: The Landscape Tranforms

Posted on 31/05/2025 by muntjac

From june11.noblogs.org

English PDF for screen reading & PDF for printing
Français PDF for screen reading & PDF for printing
Deutsch PDF for screen reading & PDF for printing
Letonă PDF for screen reading & PDF for printing
Svenska PDF for screen reading & PDF for printing
Română PDF for screen reading & PDF for printing
Español PDF for screen reading & PDF for printing
Polski PDF for screen reading & PDF for printing
Português PDF for screen reading & PDF for printing

2025 Call – The Landscape Transforms

Spring is unfolding, and the time has again come to look towards June 11th, the International Day of Solidarity with Marius Mason and Long-term Anarchist prisoners. While our celebration of this day is to lend attention to Marius and other anarchist prisoners at risk of being forgotten because of their long sentences, we’re also continually thinking about how to emphasize how integral prisoners are, and an anti-prison struggle as a whole is, on our path towards freedom.

The site of prison has long held a rebellious and revolutionary potential. Prison is a place for rebels to encounter one another, learn together and organize among themselves. The historical legacy of revolt inside means that the prison of today is even better equipped to manage, isolate and repress rupture. Yet prison, like everything else, is not totalizing in its ability to control or stifle. Despite repression, despite the stultifying effects of things like drugs and institutional violence, prisoners continue to innovate and adapt and those of us on the outside can continue to do the same, in our relationships of solidarity and in our moves toward a world without prisons. This year, we’re struck by a vision of a seed germinated by fire. It waits for the heat and smoke to indicate when the environment is cleared and suitable, to take its chance at life. In a hyper-civilized world that has attempted to eliminate fire in its quest for domination, we must set fire to the old and call forth a birth of new life.

As the terror of this dominant order comes to new, or at least previously obscured heights, we are thinking about how to embolden new paths and relationships alongside terrain that has held potential and embodied revolt since its inception. Our paths will continue to demand experimentation, adaptability, ingenuity. May we be stoked by the dying off of old forces, and enlivened by our readiness for, and taking of, new ways of life!

There is a proud history of anarchists and other radicals meeting up in prison, and a history of them mentoring and teaching others. Black Liberation and adjacent struggles in the US created pockets of radicalization inside prisons, should they be captured, that lead to moments like the Attica Uprising in 1971. Transfers of the long-term recalcitrants lead to meetings of minds like when Sundiata Acoli, Joe Joe Bowen, Hanif Shabazz Bey, and Ray Luc Levasseur met in Marion, Illinois. Joe Joe, for one, continued teaching guerilla strategies long after. Long-term anarchist prisoners have been involved in hunger and work strikes in prisons the world over, notably including many of the Greek comrades, like Nikos Maziotis. The Chilean anarchist, subversive, and Mapuche prisoners collectively pen statements for many days of action, not least of all Mónica Caballero, staying connected to struggles beyond the walls. They also inspire defiance outside of prison, as we see in many actions claimed in solidarity with the comrades aforementioned, and of recent significance: Alredo Cospito’s 180-day hunger strike that, before ending last year, brought about so many incendiary actions. There have also been instances of elders and lifers taking responsibility for mass actions to try to shield others from additional time and consequences.

The state uses prisons to limit and contain rebellious individuals, revolutionary projects, and organizing on the outside. This can sometimes backfire, turning the prison into a hotbed of revolt and radicalization. To adapt to the revolutionary potential of prisoner organizing, modern prisons make use of several tools to control the movement of people, ideas, and skills in an attempt to quash potential revolt. These tools include surveillance – increasingly technological – of individuals, movement, and relationships, and stoking divisions among classes of prisoners, pitting them against each other. Direct physical violence and isolation are used even more liberally on the trouble-makers, advocates, and teachers. In addition to throwing some one in isolation, sometimes for decades, the system also transfers people away from their block, those they trust and organized with, or across the country from their family and supporters. The ongoing expansion of prison systems and facilities is necessary to be able to separate and distance us from each other. Whenever prisoners rise up, the state increases and adapts these measures, and innovates new ones, to prevent it from happening again. All of the barriers we currently face in staying connected and empowered are evidence of just how much the wardens and the managers have to be afraid of.

How, then, do we also adapt to the innovation of tools and techniques of control. First, we must seek to understand them. Often it is the long-term prisoners who can best observe, test, and articulate the behavior of the state, as they have seen it shift over time. This is just one of many reasons why we must actively facilitate their participation in anarchist spaces. So, for us, developing redundant and decentralized ways to stay in communication despite the surveillance and censorship is essential. This is required for us to build inside-outside organizing and collaborations between the imprisoned and the more-free. Correspondence also serves to remind captives that they are not forgotten and their captors that we are watching. Material support is also essential. Money for anarchist prisoners not only helps them get what they need from commissary, but can also flow to others who have less social support. Beyond commissary, funds can also be used in the prison economy to buy or create tools to maintain communication, or for protection from guard or fellow prisoner violence. We must also build the capacity to act in solidarity and in response to what we learn from inside comrades, whether that be in the form of prison demos, phone zaps, destructive acts, and other things few of us have yet dreamt of.

When an anarchist goes to prison, they can serve as a point of connection between people inside and out. Our commitment to and style of doing prisoner support enables this connection to bear fruit, not only for individuals but also, in the best cases, to challenge the power of the state where it is most concentrated. There are many forms this role of anarchist and politicized prisoner can take. They can use their position, voice, and ability to have it amplified, to speak to larger issues. This informs outside comrades on the struggles of captive people. In the U.S., this has best been seen in Black Liberation struggles and overlap between the Black Panther Party and Black Liberation Army activity on the outside, and the uprisings in jails and prisons across the country. More recently, we’ve seen Eric King advocating for friends he made inside who helped him during some of his hardest times. We’ve also seen several people locked up in Atlanta jails for involvement in Stop Cop City and in Pennsylvania for alleged involvement in animal liberation use their media connections to describe conditions inside and to tell the stories of people they met inside. Most people in prison do not have anyone who can proliferate their words, whether through a blog, a zine, or graffiti. Anarchist spaces can and do just that. Michael Kimble is a great example of acting as a conduit between outside support and a captive queer population doing mutual aid on their own terms. Though they are still very precarious and under attack, Marius Mason has been able to strongly influence the treatment of and access for trans people in the federal prison system. In 2020, Jeremy Hammond recorded a video of himself and other captives expressing solidarity with Black Lives Matter protests in the streets. Malik Muhammad writes a column on his blog telling the stories of and doing interviews with people he’s met in segregation. Through his connection to other anarchists, Michael Kimble shares radical Black history on his block during Black History Month and Black August. In these ways, anarchist prisoners tie inside struggle and radicalization to the larger movement outside.

The reverse is also true. By the nature of their position, anarchist prisoners strengthen the larger movement by informing its analysis, methods, and priorities. By their inclusion in the anarchist space, we demystify incarceration and teach each other best practices and survival techniques. This, in turn, empowers others to take necessary risks, knowing they are not alone. Our commitment to supporting our prisoners keeps us honest to our value of confronting state power even where it is most powerful. Maintaining relationships and facilitating the participation in movement space of people who are physically taken from us provides anarchists with a wing of struggle that is “behind enemy lies.” The power to incarcerate, to disappear, to silence, to steal comrades, family, and friends must be contested. And that contestation can only happen with other politicized and revolutionary prisoners. By meeting and struggling together in prison, it strengthens ties between criminalized people and the underclasses: an informal and irregular meeting of enemies of the state.

Our moves towards a life of freedom are undoubtedly shaped and strengthened by struggling alongside those captured by the state. The inventiveness and courage needed to maintain survival and one’s values inside can teach us a great deal about what spirit will need to be mustered as we forge ahead. May this June 11th be a day to reflect on those we love inside, those we grow and struggle with that are locked away, and to make further moves against this world full of prisons and the forces that maintain it.

Prisoner Updates:

Marius Mason is now less than 2 years away from release! Despite the progress he has made for himself and other transgender prisoners, and due to anti-trans policies of the U.S. federal government, in March he was transferred back to a women’s facility in Danbury, Connecticut. The state is also now requiring we deadname Marius in our correspondence. Michael Kimble was also recently transferred to another Alabama facility. He is still working on his resentencing and continues to participate in anarchist publishing. After going on hunger strike because of his property being taken and other harassment, Malik Muhammad was transferred to another facility in Oregon. At this facility, too, he has been targeted and thrown in seg, falsely accused of trying to organize a general strike. Sean Swain continues his collaboration with Final Straw radio. Comrade Z has also worked with Final Straw and written articles for Texas Observer Magazine. Xinachtli has a new fundraising campaign.

Internationally we celebrate that Claudio Lavazza was released from prison last year, after a lifetime in the anarchist struggle. We also note the continued fight of Alfredo Cospito, and now Francisco Solar (in Italy and Chile, respectively), against their particularly heinous conditions. Mónica Caballero continues to organize and speak out from inside the Chilean prisons, and we’ve recently seen some calls for financial support. New repression has also begun in Greece, after an untimely blast in Athens killed one comrade and injured another named Marianna. We stand with all those comrades charged after the explosion. Also, Nikos Maziotis’ request for conditional release has been rejected by the Greek courts since he pronounced the obvious truth that “revolutionaries are not ‘corrected’ nor ‘morally improved,’” so he is expected to serve his full sentence. Finally, we added two more anarchists to our list of long-term prisoners, as the Chilean state prepares to prosecute Aldo and Lucas Hernandez – each facing decades in prison, having been held in pretrial detention since December 2022. With each new and continued attempt by the states of the world to enforce obedience to their oppressive programs, we too recognize an urgent desire for their destruction.

Asian Anarchist Discussion Group (ARSON) – Rebel Peripheries: A Presentation by an Anarchist from the Philippines

Posted on 29/05/2025 by muntjac

Everyone invited! Please join us for an online presentation on June 6, 7 PM Pacific Time (June 6, 10 PM Eastern Time | June 7, 10 AM Asia/Manila Time | June 7, 12 PM Australian Eastern Time) by anarchist and researcher Simoun Magsalin. The presentation is on their recently published piece Rebel Peripheries, an exploration of anarchism in the peripheries of the Philippines, including a discussion on the Maoists. The piece culminates with the proposition of mamundok-in-place – an insurrectionary project that builds upon the ideas and analysis of rebel peripheries. The presentation will be held over Jitsi. There will be time for questions at the end.

Meeting link: https://meet.jit.si/moderated/3e8157cf0fe4f8985fc8c052a878bd09e5ab5ddf2d50682d825ed4a5748c2290

Article: https://muntjacmag.noblogs.org/archives/1224

Hosted by the Asian Anarchist Discussion Group (ARSON)

Tottenham Copwatch – Statement On Our Values And Organising Principles

Posted on 27/05/2025 by muntjac

We are sharing this statement in solidarity with Tottenham Copwatch. In it they present a change for good in the trajectory of Copwatch Network affiliated projects in that they’re drawing a line in the sand to separate themselves from Career Activists and the “Abolitionist” NGOs who work with the police. Alongside this post on instagram Tottenham Copwatch wrote:

“We are a community abolitionist group aiming to build local power and honour the history of abolitionist organising and resistance in Tottenham. We welcome all community members and there is no requirement to be an abolitionist, just a willingness to learn together.

However, we do not allow career ‘activists’ who want to further their own professional interests into our community spaces. We also do not collaborate with reformists who collaborate with the police. One example of this is the reformist non-profit @stopwatch_uk [https://linktr.ee/stopwatchuk] who aim to ‘hold the police to account’ by working with them.

As a network we should organise around community and collective safety, ensuring our spaces remain conscious and ones of resistance.

We keep each other safe.”

Tottenham Copwatch – Statement On Our Values And Organising Principles

Who – Who are we?

Tottenham has a long history of local resistance against police and state violence by Black, racialised, migrant and working class people. We are a group of community members who aim to contribute to this power building, and honor the abolitionist organising and resistance that has come before us.

People – What is our positionality?

We all have different experiences of police violence. Some of us are Black, brown, Gypsy/Roma/Traveller, LGBTQI+, working class, poor, part of religious communities, migrants, undocumented, houseless, refugees, trans, women, and/or disabled.

Beliefs – what are our core principles?

We know that the police cannot be reformed. We want to completely defund and abolish all forms of policing, systems of control, and punishment.

The British state and its tools of control – police, prisons, borders, etc. Come from a long history of colonisation, dehumanisation and violent resource stealing all over the world.

We believe in coming together to dismantle these structures and support each other here in the belly of the beast learning and standing in solidarity with global anti-colonial movements.

We believe in solidarity, not charity. Charity divides us into people who give help and people who receive help, which maintains systems of power and oppression. We are non-hierarchical and aim to build connections, because we know how important it is to co-create long-term networks, learn together, help each other meet our needs, and fight collectively.

We are not separate from our local community, and we do this so that we can all be free.

Origins – Who are we right now?

The copwatch network is formed of multiple autonomous local groups, many who see different iterations over time as members come and go. This Tottenham Copwatch formed after the brutal murder of Sarah Everard in March 2021 at the hands of a police officer. The statement is written by our current members in 2025.

Legacy – Organising in Tottenham

1) The majority of our members are Black, brown, working class, mad/neurodivergent and disabled. We honor that we are organising in a place of historic resistance and community strength, and aim to put the material needs of the people in Tottenham first.

Our Members – Community resistance

2) We organise with people who (want to) engage in resistance, Although we are an abolitionist group there is no requirement to be an abolitionist or to know what abolition is to come to meetings or join. We welcome all community members who are willing to learn and believe that political education (discussing/sharing awareness of the colonial oppression we face, and our collective power) is an important part of movement building.

3) We do not allow career ‘activists’ from NGOs, academics, or politicians who want to work with us to further their own professional interests.

We believe these individuals have a professional or academic position of power and access to resources, as well as an interest in taking knowledge from the grassroots. This is how they differ from a local community member of someone who hasn’t yet discovered abolition.

4) We also do not collaborate with or allow professional reformists, who collaborate with the police, into our community spaces. Reformist organisations are those that believe that changing the police is possible and work to ‘improve’ it. One example of this is the non-profit StopWatch who aim to ‘hold the police to account’ by working with them. We know that the police can never be reformed, and this is incompatible with our values.

How? How do we organise?

5) We strongly believe in keeping each other as safe as possible, and we have structures in place to help us do this. We don’t make decisions or state our hard lines lightly.

Why? Why have we written this statement?

6) We have been transparent with our Copwatch groups and the Copwatch network about why we think allowing reformists who collaborate with the police completely goes against abolitionist values and undermines the revolutionary spirit of abolitionist organising.

We believe the network should organise around and focus on community and collective safety, ensuring our spaces remain conscious and ones of resistance.

We keep eachother safe.

“Claim No False Victories: a Report Back From a (Failed) Deportation Defense”

Posted on 26/05/2025 by muntjac

Stolen from MBTA Distro, zine version avalible through them.

The following zine was anonymously submitted to the distro. It is, “analysis of an attempted deportation defense organized by the PSL in so-called Providence, RI, occupied Wampanoag and Narragansett land. It outlines a summary of what happened, how the PSL framed it, and why their framing is harmful to the movements to stop ICE and to stop deportations.”

[PRINT] // [READ]

The following is the text from the zine:

“Written April 2025 by an anarchist on occupied Wampanoag and Narragansett land, so-called ‘providence, rhode island’

I was one of a number of Providence community members who showed up to a mobilization called on Thursday, April 24 in response to ICE kidnapping a community member and tasing him. The tip came into AMOR’s ice hotline (+1 (401) 675-1414, add it to your contacts now and call with any suspected ICE activity!) and they and the Party for Socialism and Liberation (PSL) mobilized outside of the emergency department of Rhode Island hospital, where our neighbor was being held after being tased. Let me be clear: we lost that Thursday. We were unable to respond before our neighbor was in custody, before he got tased, we were unable to get him access to his attorney, and were subsequently unable to liberate him from ICE custody. We failed, and because of that, a community member is being held in the Wyatt. This is a loss worth feeling.
But you wouldn’t know that from the organizers. Instead of taking a moment to acknowledge the loss of another person to the horrors of the Wyatt or which ever concentration camp our neighbor now resides in, they celebrated that ICE had to sneak him out. You can confirm this for yourself; they proudly posted it to their instagram, their organizer speaking as if rallying us while trying to obfuscate their failure of organizing, followed, as always, by the next demo they wanted us at. This is not the behavior of an organization interested in winning, in keeping people out of ICE custody, in taking revolutionary action to protect our people. How did we get here?
First, there was no world where PSL’s tactics could have liberated our neighbor from that hospital. We were across the street, chanting while hospital vehicles drove by and police waited in their cruisers around the corners. I’ll give them this: the chants were good, and there was water, but I was the only medic and there was no jail support. The lack of contingency planning is unacceptable in moments where we need to be practicing and building capacity in order to build militancy. People have medical emergencies at the calmest of protests; police snatch people for doing nothing asfrequently as they do for allegedly breaking the law. Creating and practicing these supports allow us to a.) protect our people now and b.) know what to do when more militant action is necessary.
On Thursday, as that crowd cheered as we received the news that we’d “won”, I couldn’t help but think about who claiming this victory benefited. It wasn’t our neighbor, sitting in an ICE van or concentration camp without access to his lawyer, without his community, with stories of due process disappearing hanging over his head, his body bandaged from the wounds the state had already inflicted on him that day. It wasn’t the organizational structures we’re working to build; refusing to admit defeat means we can’t learn from our mistakes. It is not a moral failing to try an ineffective tactic, it’s a strategic one. It is, however, deeply reflective of the character and motivations of an organization to continue to select the same tactics again and again when there is no progress towards meeting our goals.
PSL has continued to prioritize forms of resistance that can be easily turned into social media posts that continue to build their notoriety and their membership. They post pictures of their meetings with people’s faces out, ready to be identified. They don’t wear masks at demonstrations (which would protect themselves from surveillance and their comrades from covid). They put information out quickly, sometimes before those on the ground outside of their leadership structure know it. Worse than this, they prioritize tactics that police the levels of risk participants are willing to take. How many stories have we heard of yellow-vested “marshals” (read: protest police) harassing and even occasionally assaulting the more militant elements of demonstration? How many more must we hear before we realize that they do not have our back and start treating them the same way we treat the pigs?
PSL treats protests like human petitions and opportunities to recruit; the tactic seems to be that by appealing to the lowest common denominator and doing the police’s job for them they can amass large number and let the will of the people be seen while bringing in new people. On thursday, I spoke with a member of PSL’s team after we were informed that ICE had removed our neighbor from the hospital. I asked him why we hadn’t tried to enter the hospital, why we had blocked any infrastructure. He responded that he and I might be down for risking or taking arrests to stop a deportation but we couldn’t be sure of everyone’s risk level. When asked how we win with the tactics being used, he responded that we had already won. A pit deepened in my stomach.
What use is demonstrating the will of the people whenit is already known? When our opponents are not only ignoring us, they welcome our actions as long as we don’t get rowdy enough to actually threaten whatever it is they’re up to? I am not advocating that people don’t show up to these deportation defenses orto PSL’s demonstrations; rather, show up ready and knowing that you need to handle your own jail support, bring your own medics, and know your own risk tolerance and capacity. Fuck a marshall. Fuck a permit. Fuck human petition tactics. If we want to stop deportations, citizens need to be willing to put our bodies on the line to do so. See y’all next time.

Further Reading on the PSL:
PSL is a high-control group with an ineffective strategy
rosegardendsa.substack.com/p/psl-is-a-high-control-group-with
Red Flags: Before You Join That Org
unsalted.noblogs.org/files/2024/06/RedFlagsWeb1.pdf
PSL Link Consolidation doc
docs.google.com/document/d/14wF1Ti5GT2w5GZmwqvhvk6uH4z
Ussa-B2GZ9NZEx74
Why I Left the PSL … or the DSA or Socialist Alternative or whatever
theanarchistlibrary.org/library/a-filler-kid-why-i-left-the-psl-or-
the-dsa-or-socialist-alternative-or-whatever
All these and more available at linktr.ee/pslflags
Want to do more than chant? Start here:
Defend the Territory: Tactics and Techniques for Countering Police Assaults on Indigenous Communities
warriorpublications.wordpress.com/defend-the-territory/
De-Arrest Primer
haters.noblogs.org/files/2024/04/DArr.pdf
Blockade, Occupy, Strike Back
dn790005.ca.archive.org/0/items/BlockadeOccupyStrikeBack/Blockade-Occupy-Strike-Back.pdf
10 Steps for Setting Up a Blockade
disruptnow.org/tactics-of-disruption/10-steps-for-setting-up-a-blockade-anonymous-n-d
Health and Safety at Militant Actions
files.sproutdistro.com/health_and_safety_militant_actions.pdf
We Are All Very Anxious
crimethinc.com/zines/we-are-all-very-anxious “

Anti-Fascist Perspectives on Revolutionary Struggle in Myanmar: Dispatches from the Anti-Fascist Internationalist Front

Posted on 23/05/2025 - 23/05/2025 by muntjac

Stolen from the SEA Anarchist Library Copies of this zine were distributed at a fundraiser event hosted by IntSolidarityLDN in london a few weeks ago, here’s the PDF if you (like most of us) missed it: [READ] [PRINT]

Combat Medic Baran

The AIF follows a long tradition of anti-fascist internationalism from Spain to Rojava, upon seeing the people’s war in Myanmar internationalists took it upon themselves to form an internationalist front against the fascist government just as they did in 1936 and 2014. The revolution has brought together all sectors of society, urban and rural, Burmese majority and ethnic minorities, old and young.

For much of my time in Myanmar I have lived amongst the local comrades and learned much from them, their bravery knows no bounds and their hearts no fear. Before the revolution, our knowledge and professions in the medical field were used for profit, now perhaps they can be used for the benefit of the people. Like the comrades I met in Kurdistan, they are infinitely hospitable and welcoming, and selfless in their devotion to the revolution. I strive to be more like them every day, and to make proud all those who fell martyr fighting for this cause.

The sheer human cost of the fascist violence is apparent all over, many of the medics I am privileged to serve with left behind everything to join the revolution at immense risk to themselves and their families. Many are displaced, many towns and cities lay in ruin from fascist bombs, and the wounded never stop streaming in. In the course of the battles we’ve been a part of, dozens of comrades have come to the medic team with varying degrees of injuries. We treat all the comrades to the best of our ability, at hours of calm as well as under bombardment — to us it is a reality we accepted when we joined the revolution.

I have always seen the practice of medicine for the benefit of the people as revolutionary, taking inspiration of the noble revolutionaries like Che Guevara or Alina Sanchez. The medics, nurses, and doctors here seek to heal the wounds inflicted by the fascists and in a literal physical sense to right the wrongs wrought by 2021’s attack on democracy. But above all, our goal is to communalize our knowledge with our comrades and to use this for the service of the people and the people’s revolution.

Interview with Infantry Internationalist Hêlîn

Why did you travel to Myanmar to join the anti-fascist internationalist front?

I’ve followed the struggle in Burma against the military coup since it reignited 4 years ago, and saw similarities and felt connected to the struggle when people were using sticks, hard hats and slingshots to fight fascism in self organised groups that brought people together from across society. I saw the AIF as a chance to take part in that resistance which has transformed into a full scale revolution, which is closer than ever to toppling the historic power of the military, a power that has been present ever since the colonisation of Burma in the 1800s. If the movement for freedom wins here, we can use it as the inspiration in the fights back home against rapidly intensifying fascism.

How have you adapted to life in the AIF?

Since coming here and being a part of the unit I’ve been living communally with other Anti-fascists, waking up and training together every day and going on missions regularly. We brace together on the floor when airstrikes come, and joke about how inaccurate the pilots are. It’s been a lesson in communal living and being a more active revolutionary than I can be back home. One of the comrades spoke of how we can act and think in a revolutionary way even when relaxing and doing dishes, and I’ve felt this as a change in my thinking which I hope to take this back home. You adapt very quickly to life near a frontline, shots ringing overhead become normal and airstrikes become routine although never comfortable.

As a European, walking around with a gun was strange but grabbing breakfast armed is now normal.

Have there been highs and lows?

I would say the highs have been being welcomed so warmly by so many of the local revolutionaries who are glad we’re here fighting with them, as well as this delicious locally grown coffee, which hits hard after a busy period or before an intense mission. I’ll be trying to find a way to take some coffee back with me when I leave.

For lows, obviously airstrikes are never fun but also rarely accurate either. Mainly though I obviously miss home, I chat with my comrades back home regularly and while I do miss friends, comrades and comforts of home I also feel like I’m on a different frequency here and will return to friends a significantly stronger revolutionary, Anti-fascist and person.

Anything you want to say to Anti-fascists in the west?

The main message I’d want to get across is that revolutionary change is real and possible: in Burma this revolution has been started, maintained and soon may be won entirely by normal people, most who had never fired a gun and many who’d barely left school. Whether it’s revolutionary struggle in your country or going to support a revolution as an internationalist, it’s all possible and you can take the steps yourself or with your comrades without waiting for permission from anyone.

If you want to follow, support through sharing and donating or get in touch with the Anti-fascist Internationalist Front you can find us on:

Instagram @AIFMyanmar
YouTube at YouTube.com/AIFMyanmar
Email at AIFMyanmar@Protonmail.com

Feminist Perspectives on Revolutionary Struggle in Myanmar

Drone Specialist Rachel

The task of describing the experience and works of women in this revolution is a challenging one. I can of course speak to my own time here so far as a woman in our internationalist unit, and describe the many other incredible women I’ve fought with here, but I can’t claim to have a complete picture on the matter: this revolution is vast and complex, and my experiences in the narrow sliver I’ve encountered to date cannot begin to encompass the range of paths women have walked in the many battles against the SAC.

There’s no reason or need to sugar-coat things: Chinland, where we fight, is a socially conservative place with deeply entrenched gender roles, and the revolution here is no exception. The rigid post-colonial social structure here poses a constant threat and hindrance to the opportunities women can access, including within the forces opposing the SAC. (Note: the SAC, Tatmadaw, Junta, Dictatorship etc. are all terms for the same ruling force. It will be referred to as the SAC throughout).

The rights of women form a critical terrain of struggle here, and I’m honored to say this is a terrain in which we are rapidly gaining ground as an organization. All specialized trainings we have offered to our allies have required at minimum an equal gender split, a policy in which we have stood firm despite the excuses of local commanders. We may only be a small group, but our impact on the local fight is very broad due to the skills we bring. It’s important that we approach this wider impact with intention, and so far I think we’ve done this quite well.

A strong ally in this push, and of our team overall, is one of the leaders of a friendly revolutionary army and political organization. Well respected by her peers and feared by the powerful military men she commands, she has encouraged and backed our insistence on gender equality in our works at every step.

In my own experience, teaching drone warfare classes to local soldiers, I’ve found that women in the revolution are eager to grasp at any tool, any literal or metaphorical weapon they can get their hands on in their struggle for equality. As a result, the women are consistently my best and most dedicated students. At the start of this training, many of the boys already had relevant experience and believed they might have a leg up, an easy ride through the course. Not only did this experience hamper them in some ways, requiring them to un-learn bad habits, it also laid the foundation for ego to hinder their ability to pick up the necessary skills.

By contrast, the girls have been voracious learners. Every opportunity they get, they utilize the simulators and training equipment to hone their technique, gathering in a huddle around whoever might be practicing at a given time. There is healthy competition between them, to be sure, but far more than this I see a deep camaraderie, a shared joy in any of their sisters’ success.

A local woman, the leader of the Women’s unit, has also integrated into our unit for all our recent combat missions. Acting as an infantry soldier, radio operator and translator, she fills a critical role on our team and has excelled on every mission we’ve executed to date. She’s already experienced more enemy contact and “hot” combat than many soldiers in the force, and each time we go out I see the rapidly changing way the men interact with her.

The first mission, everywhere we went at the front the men gathered to stare at her, swapping muttered jokes I couldn’t understand but which turned her face hard. Not long before this mission, a boy going to the front had taken her armor, and none of her superiors lifted a finger to stop it, so she uses mine. Her battle belt is a spare I had in my bag, her IFAK and pouches are all cobbled together from what we each weren’t using or could give up.

The rifle she carries (a result of our insistence that she be armed) is a different story. The MA series rifles here in general are heavy, unreliable, and half-broken, a poor SAC-built clone of the already goofy Israeli Galil. Hers, though, is a status symbol: a short-barreled, lightweight variant with a stamped receiver and a folding carbon fiber stock, she carries it with pride and expertise and oh, how the boys look on with envy. Like all of her (and our) equipment, it stays in our unit armory. No soldier would dream of taking anything from us, the way they unfortunately feel emboldened to from the women’s unit.

Since that first mission, she has played a pivotal role in multiple effective combat missions, using high tech equipment and modern tactics to strike at the enemy. She has been in the trenches, literally and figuratively, and you can see this in both the way she sees herself, and the way she is seen by others.

My dear hope is that as she and other women gain combat experience, confidence, and social capital through their training and service with us, they can act as the respected leaders the women in this revolution deserve and bring further change by their own hands. For now, these highly trained, highly capable women are seen by their peers as the exception. Only they can make their position the rule, and the standard, by which all revolutionary women are viewed.

Zooming out, or maybe in, this question has caused me to reflect on my own experience of gender, in a very familiar way. “Woman”, while a critical part of who I am, and a lifelong part of my experience, is not my entirety. Being both intersex and nonbinary, I wonder if and how this revolution could serve to improve the rights and position of people like me throughout Chinland, throughout Burma.

I don’t test the possibilities of this often in my daily life here. For many reasons, it’s easiest and safest to simplify my position here down to just “woman”. No need to further complicate an already challenging terrain of struggle. It’s not solely for external or cynical reasons, either: here, in the hyper-masculine world of war, highlighting my fierce and dangerous femininity is just more important to me than exploring every detailed nuance of my gender.

In such a place of extremes, I can be deeply content to choose a limit of my being and embody it with severity.

While combat’s intense polarity has helped to “binarize” my personal experience, Revolution and its shattering echoes can, for many, open new terrain in which to explore and occupy stranger and more unique forms of human experience. I see this in the way the women here interact with one another: Partially as a result of their newfound role and gender of “Soldier”, they uphold a wider, more expansive form of womanhood than I saw available to the women in the villages and towns where peace allows the structures and guard-rails of daily life to remain calcified.

Here, at the front, in a battle already so fierce as to carry a badge of honor for those who take part in it, the lines are not so clear. Certainly, there remain forces, hidden or overt walls of propriety and place which urge the women into their expected behaviors. But these walls, like the walls of so many old brick structures here, are battered and beaten by bombs, bullet and the decay of an abandoned city.

With each air strike the SAC throw at us, each tragic pile of rubble where once proud buildings stood, so too do the social walls of “woman” fall away, providing newly open fields of fire from which the brave girls here can take aim at a brighter, more dangerous way of being.

I hope they find their targets.

Rachel, AIF

Interview with Women’s Unit Commander Par Te

Why did you join the revolution?

Why I joined is because when I was in the village there was fighting between the SAC and Revolutionary armies and we had to flee the fighting to run away from the bullets, my younger brothers and sisters do not have any chance to run away from these dangerous things and I want this war to be finished so I joined this revolution to work as much as I could for that. Before I joined this revolution I can’t imagine that things would be so difficult. After joining this revolution I have faced some difficulties and desperate moments but I think about my younger brothers and sisters back in the village and I want them to have a good life after this revolution and I want them to get education so they can lead their village when the war is over. This is why I put this revolution first instead of sitting back at home.

How have you found life at the front compared to back home?

At home I can eat whatever I want when we have it and my family is around so I feel a lot more safe, I didn’t think much back home I just stayed comfortable with my family. In revolution I have to take care of myself and my health because when I get sick no one will take care of me like back home, it’s a huge difference between when I was back home and being a revolutionary. When I was back home I could get up whenever I like, in revolution I have to be disciplined and I have to follow orders when they’re given, sometimes when it is very cold I don’t want to get up early but I have to and I can’t eat what I like. I have to do my work to support this revolution and I have to follow the discipline even though sometimes I don’t want to work under the hot sun but I have to.

What do you hope for Chin state and Myanmar?

I expect the younger generation to have a good education so that they can think better, and they can live better in the future and I want them to have a simple life without hearing explosions or gunshots. I expect the new generation to lead us to better communities and a better environment.

What do you hope to do personally after the revolution?

Since I was young I wanted to be a doctor and help sick and unhealthy people and if I cannot do that now I want to be a nurse too, what I want is to help suffering people. Back home in the village we had very poor healthcare and the people who are sick don’t have good medicine, so I want to be a doctor and help them.

What were you doing before the revolution?

I was studying and once the coup happened, I couldn’t study anymore. I lived in an IDP camp and some other places here and there and I also had to work instead of studying to help my father to feed us.

How do you feel about the AIF?

To me, I respect AIF members a lot because they come from countries that are developed and have some freedoms, but they come here to fight alongside suffering people. Before anyone asked them, they came to participate in the revolution and I’m very thankful for them. They give us training on what they know, share their knowledge and capabilities and they develop our skills to fight the Junta. Being around them we have new experiences and new knowledge and skills which we never knew about, I’ve learnt many things from them. For example, not just military skills, but also how revolutionaries should live and act in our daily lives.

Any extra comments to readers?

I am very encouraged by AIF, whatever kind of difficulties we may face in our country, they come here to share our difficulties. When I feel down I look at AIF members, I know they came here to suffer with us, so we have to complete this revolution. Our country is being destroyed, and we have to work hard to get our freedom – we will take Myanmar back from the dictator and lead this to be a better country, we will build our country back even if it will be very difficult, we will do it and we will do our best. We need support from everyone, support from civilians and any friends and allies to do this, we will be encouraged and stronger if we work together hand in hand, please support the revolution in Myanmar as much as you can.

THIS ZINE WAS DOWNLOADED FROM THE ANARCHIST LIBRARY; THE PRODUCERS OF THIS ZINE ARE SUPPORTIVE OF THE REVOLUTION IN MYANMAR AND THE AIF BUT HAVE NO CONNECTION TO THE GROUP OR ITS ACTIVITIES

Sichuan Yibin: Workers demanding wages set fire to the factory

Posted on 23/05/2025 by muntjac

Stolen from: https://x.com/YesterdayBigcat/status/1925348019438067762 and machine translated.

「四川宜宾：讨薪工人怒烧工厂，网民一边倒支持工人（2025.05.20-22）」四川宜宾一名22岁纺织工人因工资被克扣，在讨薪无果后怒而放火点燃了工厂，引发持续三日的大火。据多名网友爆料及现场目击者描述，5月20日中午11点，宜宾市屏山县锦裕纺织厂发生火灾，一名年轻男性工人在捅伤一名与厂主关系密切的财务人员后，放火点燃了工厂。知情网友称，该名工人此前因辞职未获批准、工资被无故克扣800元，在多次讨薪未果后，他情绪失控，最终选择以极端方式抗议。还有网友指出，该财务为厂主亲戚，行为蛮横，导致矛盾激化。 “一个工人辞职不干了，扣了他800块，要了几次都没有给他，所以这个人放火。” “不欠工资但是要扣钱为啥扣因为财务是厂里的关系户。” “听说扣了800块钱被员工放火烧了一个厂。” “听说是人为的，为了800块钱工资，老板不给给打人，一气之下点燃了工厂，不知道是真的假的。” “大，被火烧的是二车间，和三车间，只有一车间，没有被烧。” “宜宾纺织厂，一个22岁小伙没要到工资，把厂给点着了我在看新闻。人一旦没了软肋，什么都不会怕。” “昨天中午十一点燃烧的，现在还在燃烧。” “老板被捅了一刀。” “乱说，是财务被捅。” 事发后，事件在中国的社交平台上得到了广泛的传播，舆论也一边倒支持涉事工人，称他是英雄，认为他的行为是“打工人的怒火”。 “这是人民的怒火。” “工人的怒火。” “人民英雄” 、“人民的力量是光亮的。” “那兄弟实现了很多人心中的怒火，致敬。” “他是觉醒的无畏者的象征。” “燃烧自己，照亮他人。” “小伙子是真的勇敢，值得学习。” “为他点赞！” “我只关心，英雄怎么样了。” 同时，锦裕纺织厂老板成为众矢之的。网友普遍认为，事件虽有极端成分，但根源在于企业压榨工人、克扣工资、态度蛮横。有评论写道：“给所有无良老板上了一课”。还有人讽刺：“老板这次终于体会到打工人失去800块的滋味了。”还有网友指出，此类劳动纠纷和维权困难并非孤例，而是底层工人长期承受的普遍压迫。 “老板这次终于体会到打工人失去800块的滋味了吧” “干得漂亮, 对付黑心老板就得这样” “虽然被揍了个厂,但是老板实打实的节省了800工资” “欺负打工人,欺负习惯了。赔家给他来点教训” “没良心的资本家就该死里干” “老板这次终于体会到打工人失去800块的滋味了是吧” “给拖欠工资的老板们,上了一堂生动现实的课。” “我想把这个视频发给我老板看” “800块钱工资,老板直接破产。工人要考老板上了一课” “应该是给全国工厂的老板上了一课” 网友还认为，底层人活的太艰难，800元钱对老板来说只是一瓶酒钱，但对底层劳动者来说可能就是底线。 “800块钱对于一个老板来说九牛一毛都算不上,但是对于一个打工者来说可能就是他的底线!” “800元钱是不多,但是,身无分文的时,就是救命钱,能吃半个月的生活。” “有没有人相信,800块钱是我一个月的生活费,现在的钱不好赚” “几百块钱,说起不多,但是对于普通家庭可以办很多事了” “对某些人来说只是几百块钱,对于人家来说已经是抗压底线了这里没有赢家” “800块钱可能就是老板一瓶酒钱,对很多底层人来说确是一个月的生活费,有了这800就能活下去。” “800块也是救命钱” 除声援外，许多网友还表示愿意为工人家属捐款、筹资请律师。 “如果小伙英雄公开个帐号，我再穷也愿意支援三五百” “真的值的众筹，他的光照耀了所有打工人” “如果小伙家人需要帮助，我加入一个” “我们穷人要搞个基金会，凡是为了维权而光荣的，按大小发放工资扶持家人。” “给他人捐款请律师，我出100” “给这个家捐款，是她的行动照亮了所有人” “刚刚刷到，评论区好多人说，捐款给小伙的父母，为我们撑起了一片光明。” “如果小伙英雄公开个帐号，我再穷也愿意支援三五百” “大哥要人出来，我也给他捐款，捐钱就应该花在这种地方！为本人抱薪者，不可使其冻毙于风雪！” “还是希望哥们的父母可以出来，大家每人捐一点，让二老养老。” “我给小伙子捐300，因为我曾经也被压榨过，包括现在，2个月绩效没发了！” “我给小伙子捐1000，他是打工人的榜样” “我捐一百给敢作为小伙子集资！” “我给他捐3000” “需要捐款的时候麻烦艾特我一声，微薄之力” “能给小伙子捐款不？我个人出500” “我的梦想就是想见一下一啊，放火的这个兄弟，想给他转500块钱” “问一下咋给小伙子捐款呀？” “为众人抱薪者，不可使其冻毙于风雪” 这起事件像一根导火索，点燃了无数人的共鸣与愤怒。底层劳动者的苦难被长期漠视，活得步步维艰，人们似乎都在等待那个引发改变的临界点。

“Sichuan Yibin: Workers demanding wages set fire to the factory, netizens overwhelmingly support the workers (2025.05.20-22)” A 22-year-old textile worker in Yibin, Sichuan, was angry about his wages being withheld. After failing to demand his wages, he set fire to the factory, causing a fire that lasted for three days.

According to reports from multiple netizens and eyewitnesses, a fire broke out at Jinyu Textile Factory in Pingshan County, Yibin City at 11:00 a.m. on May 20. A young male worker stabbed a financial officer who was closely related to the factory owner and then set the factory on fire. Informed netizens said that the worker had previously been deducted 800 yuan from his salary for no reason because his resignation was not approved. After many unsuccessful attempts to get his salary, he lost control of his emotions and finally chose to protest in an extreme way. Other netizens pointed out that the financial officer was a relative of the factory owner and his arrogant behavior led to the intensification of the conflict.

“A worker quit his job and was deducted 800 yuan from his salary. He asked for it several times but was not given the money, so this person set the fire.”

“We don’t owe you any wages, but they are still deducting money 😼 Why? Because the finance department is a relative of the factory.”

“I heard that a factory was set on fire by employees because 800 yuan was deducted.”

“I heard it was man-made. The boss beat someone up because he didn’t pay him 800 yuan in salary, so he set the factory on fire in a rage. I don’t know if it’s true or not.”

“It’s big. The ones that were burned were Workshop 2 and Workshop 3. Only Workshop 1 was not burned.”

“In Yibin Textile Factory, a 22-year-old boy set the factory on fire after he failed to get his salary 🤣🤣🤣 I was watching the news. Once a person loses his weaknesses, he will not be afraid of anything 😭 .”

“It started burning at 11 o’clock yesterday and it’s still burning now.”

“The boss got stabbed.”

“Nonsense, the finance department was stabbed.”

After the incident, the incident was widely circulated on Chinese social platforms, and public opinion overwhelmingly supported the worker involved, calling him a hero and believing that his behavior represented the “anger of workers.”

“This is the anger of the people.”

“Workers’ anger.”

“People’s Hero”

” “The power of the people is bright 👍👍👍👍👍 .”

“That brother fulfilled the anger in many people’s hearts. Salute 🔥 .”

“He is the symbol of the awakened fearless.”

“Burn yourself to light up others 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 .”

“The young man is really brave and worth learning from.”

“Like him 👍 !”

“I only care about how the hero is doing.”

At the same time, the boss of Jinyu Textile Factory became the target of public criticism. Netizens generally believed that although the incident was extreme, the root cause was the company’s exploitation of workers, withholding of wages, and arrogant attitude. One comment wrote: “This is a lesson for all unscrupulous bosses.” Another person sarcastically said: “The boss finally experienced the feeling of losing 800 yuan for the workers.” Other netizens pointed out that such labor disputes and difficulties in defending rights are not isolated cases, but a common oppression that grassroots workers have endured for a long time.

“The boss finally understood how it feels to lose 800 yuan this time.”

“Well done, this is how you deal with a shady boss”

“Although the factory was beaten, the boss actually saved 800 yuan in wages.”

“He bullies the workers. He is used to it. Let’s teach him a lesson.”

“Capitalists without conscience deserve to die”

“The boss finally understood how it feels to lose 800 yuan, right?”

“It is a vivid and realistic lesson for the bosses who owe wages.”

“I want to send this video to my boss”

“With a salary of 800 yuan, the boss went bankrupt. The workers wanted to test the boss and learned a lesson.”

“This should be a lesson for factory owners across the country.”

Netizens also believe that life is too difficult for people at the bottom of society. 800 yuan is just the price of a bottle of wine for the boss, but it may be the bottom line for the bottom-level workers.

“800 yuan is nothing to a boss, but it may be his bottom line for a worker!”

“800 yuan is not a lot of money, but when you are penniless, it is life-saving money and can support you for half a month.”

“Does anyone believe that 800 yuan is my monthly living expenses? Money is hard to earn nowadays.”

“A few hundred dollars may not seem like much, but it can do a lot for an average family.”

“For some people, it’s just a few hundred dollars, but for others, it’s their bottom line. There are no winners here.”

“800 yuan might be the price of a bottle of wine for the boss, but for many people at the bottom of society, it is a month’s living expenses. With this 800 yuan, they can survive.”

“800 yuan is also life-saving money”

In addition to expressing support, many netizens also expressed their willingness to donate money to the workers’ families and raise funds to hire lawyers.

“If the young hero makes his account public, I will be willing to support him with three or five hundred yuan even if I am poor 👍 ”

“It is really worth the crowdfunding. His light shines on all the workers 👍👍👍👍👍👍 ”

“If the boy’s family needs help, I will join one”

“We poor people should set up a foundation to pay salaries to those who have done honorable things for their rights to support their families. 🤏 ”

“Donate to others to hire a lawyer, I will pay 100 💯💯💯 ”

“Donate to this family, her actions illuminate everyone”

“I just saw a lot of comments saying that donating to the boy’s parents has given us a chance to see the light.”

“If the young hero makes his account public, I will be willing to support him with three or five hundred yuan even if I am poor 👍 ”

“Brother wants people to come out, and I will donate money to him. Donated money should be spent on places like this! Those who carry firewood for me should not be allowed to freeze to death in the snow!”

“I still hope that my buddy’s parents can come out and everyone can donate a little to help them through their retirement.”

“I donated 300 yuan to the young man because I have also been exploited before, including now, I haven’t received my performance bonus for two months!”

“I donated 1,000 yuan to the young man. He is a role model for workers.”

“I will donate 100 yuan to the young man who dares to raise funds! 🤣 ”

“I donated 3,000 to him 👍 ”

“If you need donations, please let me know. It’s just a small contribution.”

“Can you donate to the young man? I’ll personally give 500.”

“My dream is to meet the brother who set the fire and transfer 500 yuan to him.”

“Excuse me, how can I donate to the young man?”

“Those who carry firewood for others should not be allowed to freeze to death in the snow and wind.”

This incident was like a fuse, igniting the resonance and anger of countless people. The suffering of the lower-class workers has been ignored for a long time, and their lives are difficult. People seem to be waiting for the critical point that will trigger change.

Leroy Maisiri – Zimbabwe: Why does the state persist when its outputs are poverty, violence and humiliation

Posted on 22/05/2025 by muntjac

Stolen from: https://mg.co.za/thought-leader/2025-04-22-zimbabwe-why-does-the-state-persist-when-its-outputs-are-poverty-violence-and-humiliation/

As Zimbabwe commemorates 45 years of independence, the spectacle of celebration orchestrated by President Emmerson Mnangagwa in a dilapidated and waterlogged stadium serves as a metaphor for the trajectory of the postcolonial state.

The accumulation of rainwater in the cracks of this Midlands venue epitomises not only infrastructural decay but also the consequential runoff from four-and-a-half decades marked by systemic looting, incompetence and the calculated erosion of collective dignity. The pertinent inquiry is not whether Zimbabwe possesses legitimate grounds for celebration; rather, it is to interrogate why the apparatus of the state continues to persist when its predominant outputs are poverty, violence and humiliation.

Zimbabwe’s independence in 1980 was heralded as an epoch of self-determination and prosperity. Contrary to these aspirations, Zanu-PF supplanted colonial exploitation with a locally entrenched kleptocracy. Institutions such as the Sally Mugabe Hospital have devolved into necropolitical spaces where women tragically bleed out because of a lack of water and medical supplies, while state resources are siphoned into Mnangagwa’s patronage networks. The World Food Programme’s alarming estimate that six million Zimbabweans endure food insecurity must be recognised not merely as a consequence of mismanagement but as a direct outcome of state policy. The assertion that the state fails in its roles is profoundly misleading; it operates effectively to fulfill its true mandate: the concentration of power and wealth.

The catastrophic economic trajectory that Zimbabwe has traversed since independence is illustrated by the disintegration of its monetary system. This phenomenon reflects not merely a series of policy miscalculations but rather the systemic rot inherent in a predatory state. In 1980, the newly sovereign nation inherited a currency, the Zimbabwean dollar (ZWD) that was not only stronger than the US dollar but also pegged at parity with the British pound. But, within a mere two decades, this currency imploded, suffering a staggering 70% depreciation by 1997. This early collapse was exacerbated by the neoliberal Economic Structural Adjustment Programme, which, while apparently designed to liberalise the economy, functioned instead as a vehicle for elite accumulation, stripping public assets and entrenching inequality without fostering meaningful economic growth.

Subsequent decades have witnessed Zimbabwe’s monetary system devolving into a farcical series of failed experiments: from hyperinflationary versions of the Zimbabwean dollar to improvised monetary instruments, such as traveller’s cheques, bearer cheques, and bond notes. Each iteration has further undermined public trust. The introduction of Real-Time Gross Settlement dollars and the 2019 reintroduction of the Zimbabwean dollar have only deepened the crisis, as the state’s compulsive money-printing and lack of fiscal discipline transformed each new currency into a temporary placeholder for value rather than a stable medium of exchange. Furthermore, quasi-currency systems such as EcoCash and Zipit have emerged as desperate makeshift solutions, underscoring the collapse of formal monetary authority.

This relentless churn of currencies more than a dozen in 15 years exposes fundamental truth: a national currency is not merely a technical instrument; it embodies a social contract, a collective confidence in the issuing authority. Zimbabwe’s monetary chaos signifies a total breakdown of that contract, as the state’s kleptocratic inclinations and its refusal to relinquish control over seigniorage revenue (the profit derived from the creation of money) have transformed currency into a mechanism for extraction rather than economic facilitation. The bastardisation of foreign currencies, such as the US dollar and the South African rand, which were once adopted as lifelines during hyperinflation, further exemplifies how state failures have forced citizens into informal, decentralised survival strategies.

This monetary unravelling is emblematic of a broader centralisation of power that monopolises economic life. The state’s insistence on maintaining control over currency, despite its repeated failures, mirrors its overarching control over land, resources and political agency, even as it engenders ruin.

In stark contrast, grassroots initiatives such as dollarisation and mobile money systems reveal the feasibility of stateless alternatives, wherein trust is negotiated horizontally rather than imposed by fiat. Thus, Zimbabwe’s currency crisis transcends a mere case study in mismanagement; it encapsulates the postcolonial state’s enduring struggle to transcend its colonial legacy as an extractive institution.

The solution lies not in the introduction of another state-issued currency but in the dismantlement of the monopoly over monetary power, advocating for radical decentralisation that aligns with anarchist ideals of voluntary, mutualistic exchange.

The assemblies at Mnangagwa’s rallies are not indicative of grassroots support; rather, they reflect an engineered desperation. When unemployment soars to 95% and inflation renders currency functionally meaningless, a handout of chicken and chips morphs into a coercive contract: endure the spectacle of one’s own degradation for the sake of sustenance. This scenario is not governance; it exemplifies a protection racket masquerading as political engagement. The colonial racist ghost of Ian Smith, whose prophetic assertion of decay under Zanu-PF has been illustrated, haunts these gatherings, not due to its accuracy, but because the nationalist state has assimilated and perfected the colonial logic of resource extraction.

The solution is not another election, another party or another strongman. The Zimbabwean state is a corpse that refuses to decompose, and no amount of reform will resurrect it into something benevolent. Logic demands we confront the reality that centralised power whether colonial or “liberationist” is inherently predatory. Yet even under such oppressive pressure the solution, like a flower budding through concrete, the alternatives already flicker in the margins.

We see autonomous mutual aid, where the state abandons hospitals and clinics run by community collectives (such as those seen in Chitungwiza during cholera outbreaks), proving that survival happens despite the state, not because of it. We have seen land and food sovereignty where the state’s land grabs destroyed productivity, but occupied farms reclaimed by agrarian cooperatives outside Zanu-PF’s crony distribution could this restore subsistence autonomy? One can only hope.

Forty-five years of independence have proven that the state is not the vehicle of liberation but its antithesis. Zimbabwe’s suffering is not a result of “bad leaders” but of the very idea that liberation comes from above.

The rain flooding Mnangagwa’s stadium is a fitting emblem: the state cannot even build drains, yet it demands absolute sovereignty over lives it has no interest in sustaining. True independence begins when Zimbabweans stop asking the state for solutions and start recognising it as the problem.

Leroy Maisiri is a researcher and educator focused on labour, social movements and emancipatory politics in Southern Africa, with teaching and publishing experience in sociology and political theory.

Leroy Maisiri – Burkina Faso: Revolution, authoritarianism and the crisis of African emancipation politics

Posted on 22/05/2025 by muntjac

Stolen from: https://mg.co.za/thought-leader/2025-05-08-burkina-faso-revolution-authoritarianism-and-the-crisis-of-african-emancipation-politics/

There was a time when Robert Mugabe stood as the towering figure of African liberation. Raised fists, Pan-Africanist banners, and chants of self-rule marked Zimbabwe’s emergence from white settler colonialism. Mugabe, like many of his generation, represented the victory of the oppressed against imperial domination. But history, with its ruthless clarity, would later mark him not only as a liberator but as an authoritarian. His early heroism curdled into repression, corruption, and the suffocation of dissent.

This trajectory is not unique to Mugabe, nor to Zimbabwe. Across the African continent, a grim pattern repeats itself: liberation movements, once anchored in popular struggle and dreams of self-determination, morph into bureaucratic, militarised and often repressive regimes.

Today, a new face of revolution is emerging in Burkina Faso under the youthful and charismatic Captain Ibrahim Traoré. His image is cast in the mould of Thomas Sankara, evoking the anti-imperialist spirit of the 1980s, and his language is resolute: “This is not a democracy. This is a revolution.”

But what kind of revolution dismisses democracy? What are we to make of yet another seizure of power by men in uniform, claiming to act on behalf of the people? If history is to be our teacher, then we must ask: can a revolution built on authoritarian foundations ever birth true liberation? Or are we merely witnessing the replay of a tragic cycle in which the people are always betrayed?

In answering this, anarchist theory offers a sobering and necessary critique, particularly the principle of “prefiguration”. Loosely this means what we want our society to become in the future is literally shaped by what we do today. Therefore the means to transform society and used to achieve liberation must reflect the liberated society we seek to build. Dictatorship in the name of the people is not a contradiction; it is a betrayal.

Africa’s liberation paradox

In 1980, Mugabe took the reins of an independent Zimbabwe amid jubilation. A fierce critic of apartheid South Africa and a stalwart of African nationalism, Mugabe embodied the hopes of a continent still shaking off colonial chains. His government expanded access to education and health, undertook land redistribution (albeit slowly at first), and positioned Zimbabwe as a regional beacon.

Yet beneath the surface of national pride lurked the seeds of authoritarian rule. The Gukurahundi massacres in Matabeleland state-directed violence that left thousands dead was the first major crack in the façade. By the 1990s and 2000s, the promise had largely faded. Economic mismanagement, systematic attacks on the opposition, the use of war veterans as enforcers and rigged elections turned Zimbabwe into a cautionary tale. Mugabe had become the very figure he once fought against: a ruler deaf to the cries of his people.

What went wrong? The problem was not merely Mugabe’s personality or age, but a structural one: a centralised, hierarchical, militarised politics that concentrated power in the hands of a few. The masses, once mobilised for liberation, were now reduced to spectators of state-led nationalism. The logic of domination, inherited from colonial rule, remained intact.

The African continent is filled with liberation leaders who later ossified into authoritarian rulers. In the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Laurent-Désiré Kabila rose to power after deposing the infamous Mobutu Sese Seko. Hailed as a reformer, he quickly silenced dissent, suspended democratic institutions, and entrenched cronyism.

In Eritrea, Isaias Afwerki’s led the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front (EPLF) to independence from Ethiopia in 1993, since then the government has abolished elections, outlawed dissent, and turned the country into a prison state. In Uganda, Yoweri Museveni, once a progressive voice with an ambitious reform agenda who came into power in 1986 after a guerrilla war, promising to end dictatorship and restore democracy has clung to power for decades, repressing opposition and manipulating constitutional term limits.

What binds these cases is not simply the betrayal of early ideals but the structure of the revolutionary movements themselves: the dominance of military actors, the centralisation of decision-making and the erasure of grassroots democratic input. Liberation became a state project, not a people’s movement. The result was not freedom but domination by a different set of elites.

Ibrahim Traoré and the Burkina Faso moment

It is in this historical context that we must understand the rise of Ibrahim Traoré in Burkina Faso. In September 2022, Traoré seized power from a fellow military officer, citing the government’s failure to contain jihadist violence and its lingering ties to French neocolonial interests. Young, fiery and armed with Pan-African rhetoric, Traoré has been embraced by many across Africa as a new kind of revolutionary. His speeches decry imperialism, his posture rejects Western control and his persona taps into the Sankarist legacy.

Yet, there are reasons to be deeply cautious. Traoré has suspended the Constitution, dissolved the National Assembly and postponed elections indefinitely. Civil society participation is tightly controlled. Criticism is increasingly silenced under the banner of national unity. Most tellingly, Traoré himself has declared that this is not a democracy but a revolution.

Here lies the central contradiction. A revolution that excludes participatory, horizontal and people-driven democracy is not a revolution of liberation, but of substitution. The people are once again sidelined, replaced by uniforms and commands.

The alternative: Prefiguration and the case of Nestor Makhno

So one must then wonder whether a democratic revolution is even possible and, if yes, can we point to an example? The example must not only be historically true but must also reject the logic of the “ends justify the means” that has plagued so many revolutionary movements.

The example must embody the concept of prefiguration, by developing the type of ideas and social structures today that mirror the tomorrow we want. There existed a man by the name of Nestor Makhno who led the Revolutionary Insurgent Army of Ukraine during the early 20th century. Operating during the Russian Civil War, Makhno led a peasant-based movement that resisted both the White counter-revolution and the authoritarian Bolsheviks. Central to the Makhnovist approach was the creation of workers’ and peasants’ councils, assemblies where decisions were made collectively and leaders were subject to immediate recall. The army itself functioned democratically, with elected commanders and decisions made in open discussion.

Makhno’s movement was not perfect, but it represented a rare experiment in what a truly self-managed, bottom-up revolution could look like. Its core lesson was that real freedom is impossible without democratic participation at every level of struggle. Militarised command structures cannot give birth to emancipatory societies; instead they reproduce the hierarchies they claim to oppose.

If Africa’s revolutions are to avoid the fate of betrayal, they must reject the authoritarian path. This means dismantling the idea that a small revolutionary elite or a military junta can deliver freedom on behalf of the people. The people must deliver it themselves.

This requires building structures of direct democracy, participatory budgeting, local councils, community assemblies, federations of self-organised movements. It means breaking from both Western liberal democracy, with its elite-controlled institutions, and from nationalist authoritarianism, with its strongmen and military decrees.

It means recognising that a revolution that begins by silencing voices will end by crushing them. In Burkina Faso, the revolutionary moment is still young. There is still time to reshape its path toward radical democracy rather than dictatorship with a populist face. But that will require more than speeches; it will require giving the people power not just in rhetoric, but in practice.

History has been a graveyard of failed liberations. But it doesn’t have to be. If we take seriously the anarchist principle that the means must reflect the ends, we can begin to imagine a politics that does not reproduce hierarchy but dismantles it. A politics that is not merely anti-imperialist, but anti-authoritarian. A revolution that is not a replacement of rulers, but the abolition of rule itself.

This article in no way is against the anti-imperialist/anti-colonialist stance of Burkina Faso nor is it a personal critique of the Capitan, rather it argues for all progressive forces to truly self-reflect on the type of liberation we want on the continent. Liberation cannot be delivered from above. It must be built from below, and it must begin now.

Leroy Maisiri is a researcher and educator focused on labour, social movements and emancipatory politics in Southern Africa, with teaching and publishing experience in industrial economic sociology.