by DGR News Service | Oct 1, 2019 | Alienation & Mental Health, Culture of Resistance
by Liam Campbell
“Disneyland is presented as imaginary in order to make us believe that the rest is real, whereas all of Los Angeles and the America that surrounds it are no longer real, but belong to the hyperreal order and to the order of simulation.” — Jean Baudrillard, Simulacra and Simulation
Reality prevailed on Earth for untold millions of years. Base elements, microbes, algae, fungi, animals, and plants, they existed in complex and changing configurations; these variations of life were deeply rooted in an objective, singular reality. For our ancestors, an apple was an apple, it existed independently and without symbolic constraints or meaning. Then we invented language, possibly the first true simulation, which allowed us to invoke the idea of an apple without the presence of one. This abstract concept of an apple became an amalgamation of all of our individual and cultural experiences of a thing, and the idea of an apple could only exist in relationship to other concepts of “not apple.” Baudrillard called this phenomenon a “simulacrum,” which is a representation or an imitation of a thing.
For a long time, our simulacra were rudimentary and poor imitations of reality. No matter how many words we invented to describe an apple, our simulation remained unconvincing and easily distinguishable from the real thing. As our skill at painting progressed we managed to produce visually convincing simulacra of apples, but they still smelled like paint and were inedible. As our understanding of chemistry advanced we discovered chemicals which smell like our shared conception of an apple, allowing us to convince both our eyes and noses, but the simulacrum of the apple remained unconvincing to our other senses. Now, through genetic engineering, we have reached the point where we can create a simulation of an apple which is not a “real” apple, it is an imitation based on our idealistic conception of the idea of an apple. This is hyperreality, an inability to distinguish between reality and a simulation, and it permeates almost every aspect of our postmodern experience.
In his seminal work, Simulacra and Simulation, Baudrillard proposes that hyperreality unfolds in four stages:
- Reasonably accurate images or copies of reality. For example: photography used to faithfully document real scenes from a war.
- Perversion of reality where images or copies of reality appear to be the real thing, but actually create a false impression of reality. For example: a photograph which accidentally appears to make an innocent person look guilty.
- Obstruction of reality where images or copies intentionally mask or obscure reality. For example: a photograph where a government intentionally fabricates an event in order to manufacture consent.
- Complete simulacrum where it becomes impossible to differentiate between reality and simulation because the simulacra are absolutely convincing and permeate every aspect of life. At this stage, it is unnecessary to intentionally obscure reality because people give up the pursuit of objective reality as an overly sentimental notion and an exercise in futility.
Baudrillard argues that most of us have entered into the last stage, that of complete simulacrum, because we are indoctrinated from birth to perceive things as more than they are. Upon seeing an apple, we immediately think of the asbtract concept of “apples,” we think of our cultural relationships with that concept, and then we relate that concept to all similar or dissimilar concepts. Moreover, many of us have only experienced genetically modified apples, so even our sensory comprehension of “apples” is based on simulacra.
From this perspective, we have become profoundly and potentially irrevocably detached from objective reality. Although we can make decisions which will lead us closer to, or farther away from, objective reality, we can never return to a state of complete alignment. Our current trajectory is leading us into an extreme form of simulacrum where our experiences detach entirely from any connection to reality — even our most intimate personal relationships are increasingly shaped through lenses of reality television, consumerism, counseling, and commodification. How will we know when we have fully detached from the real? Baudrillard, even in the 1980s, made a strong case for the argument that we long ago crossed that threshold.
Today, objective reality is forcing itself back into our consciousness in the form of climate and ecological collapse. Our collective decisions to manufacture and inhabit hyperreality have detached us from the systems which are cannibalised to sustain our fantasies. Today’s children are as likely to believe that eggs come from grocery stores as chickens, and even the average adult has no conception whatsoever that their favourite chocolate spread is produced from the charred bones of orangutans. Baudrillard points out that, in previous cultures, animals were often ritualistically killed before being eaten; although this act may seem cruel, on the surface, it reminds people that the animal was a living thing and that some degree of cruelty was involved in converting that life into meat. By contrast, most industrialised humans are so far removed from the realities of their consumerism that they view meat as an asbtraction, little more than a commodity which has no history before having been selected among other pieces of plastic-wrapped meat from a refrigerator. Indeed, hyperreality has advanced so far that there are now convincing simulacra of meat, made up of the same material, but having never lived at all. Does this avert the suffering and absolve us of cruelty, or does it merely obscure the cruelty under increasingly abstract layers of exploitative farming, native species annihilation, and habitat destruction?
At some point these increasingly sophisticated delusions will crash down around us; possibly as a result of ecosystem collapse, or maybe we will become so dehumanised that we will simply choose to cease to exist for lack of any sense of meaning. It does seem like the further we depart from our basis in objective reality, the more dissatisfied we become with our own existence. For the time being we fill that growing void with additional consumption, but it’s inclear whether we’re motivated more by an amibition to achieve some fantastical outcome, or if we’re simply afraid to die and willing to abandon any sense of meaning in exchange for delaying death or physical by a few more years. What’s evident, at least to me, is that our lives are technologically advanced but culturally backward.
by DGR News Service | Sep 26, 2019 | Direct Action, Strategy & Analysis
by Liam Campbell
Humanity has a long history of environmental activism, likely extending far beyond the reaches of recorded history. It’s easy to imagine warring tribes of indigenous peoples struggling against exploitative and excessively greedy neighbours. Competing tribes probably used violence to prevent each other from overconsuming fisheries, harvestable plants, and driving game to extinction. These actions maintained equilibrium within the broader ecosystem and allowed the indigenous humans to survive indefinitely. Fulfilling these obligations to nature would not have been easy; people would have experienced more frequent hunger, higher rates of mortality, and for frequent incidents of violence. Most of these cultures had warrior classes whose obligations often included ritualised violence against competing groups, though rarely did conflict escalate into total war.
Ecological exploitation became problematic when one group became excessively powerful, often through some form of conquest. Once they grew large enough to establish cities they invariably began to strip the surrounding regions of natural resources, always reaching farther and farther afield until the reach of the city turned into an empire, and until the empire grew too large to be managed and collapsed under its own weight. The development of increasingly efficient forms of communication, and eventually the discovery of fossil fuel, allowed empires to grow in scale until they spanned across large sections of the world. It seemed inevitable that one of these empires would eventually encompass the entire planet.
Humanity will never reach the point of developing a unified, global empire because the ecological cost of such a system strips a planet of its living systems at astonishing speed. The empire of industrialisation has infested most of Earth’s ecosystems, even poisoning the deepest regions of the oceans with plastic excrement. We are witnessing a metastatic culture rushing toward annihilation, as all cancers do, by devouring the few functioning organs of nature on this crippled planet. Each human is a cell in this system and most of us have been infected by the toxic culture of industrialism. Some humans resist these urges, our instincts and intellect tell us that our actions are wrong and will lead to annihilation, but our minds have been conditioned by industrial culture to inhibit effective resistance. After centuries of trial and error, structures have developed to prevent effective opposition to dominant cultures: people are divided by social fictions, communities are fractured into suburbs, children are indoctrinated in schools, workers are oppressed by debt and subsistence wages, and political systems have been designed to preoccupy people with the illusion of control.
Having been brought up outside the borders of civilisation, I sometimes find it perplexing that people restrict themselves to the theatre of resistance, despite failing consistently to achieve any meaningful victory. Protesters continue to wave signs, perform street theatre, and organise public forums, while patting themselves on the back for a job well done. Meanwhile, their quality of life consistently diminishes, their ecosystems continue to collapse, and their social bonds fracture. Occassionally, the masses are fed a small victory on a minor issue and they revel in their glorious victory, ignoring the fact that they’ve simultaneously accrued a long list of devastating losses. When they become frustrated they blame the professional scapegoats in government, who rotate frequently, while largely ignoring the real forces of power which dominate their world (corporations and industry).
One of the greatest fallacies that imprisons these people is the perception that the only way to effect change is to mobilise large masses of people, either for the purposes of voting or rebellion. In this way, the individual gives up most of their personal obligation to the larger crowd; they say “why should I do more than wave a sign or stage an act of symbolic resistance when the masses won’t even go that far?” Each individual waits to take meaningful action until everyone else takes meaningful action, and so they are all paralysed. Paradoxically, when someone does take meaningful action they are often scorned by the mainstream protesters. Why? Because by taking legitimate action they have highlighted the inadequacy of their comrades, and forced them to confront their own cowardice; the psychological pain of facing such a personal failing is generally too great and instead those people resort to mental gymnastics to condemn the action as extreme or counterproductive. Frequently, the less courageous members of rebellions hide behind a wall of pseudo moralism, claiming that anything outside of pacifism is profoundly wrong — meanwhile they often continue to participate in, and benefit from, the dominant culture’s economy, which itself perpetuates extreme violence.
In reality, effective acts of revolution against a dominant culture begin with individuals who refuse to wait for the crowd. One courageous person decides to take action regardless of the odds, they find a few others who have made a similar decision, and they begin. Invariably, they are initially condemned by mainstream protesters, but they persist anyway. Their commitment is to live and succeed, or fail and die. In order to reach this stage, conditions must become dire enough for survival in the dominant culture to be equal to or worse than death for the potential revolutionaries. Additionally, there must be a viable path toward a future which is so worthwhile that revolutionaries will endure significant suffering in the interim.
Once an adequate cadre of life-or-death revolutionaries has formed, support networks of less committed people form around them to provide material and social support. So long as the revolutionaries are strategically effective, their support base grows over time and eventually collapses or subsumes the dominant culture. This critical tipping point cannot be achieved until the general public loses faith in the dominant culture’s capacity to provide for their needs. So long as the average person believes that the status quo is preferable to the uncertainty of change, they will vehemently oppose any efforts to collapse the structures of the dominant culture. It is worth noting that humans are intensely afraid of unknown and they will generally endure great suffering before preferring an uncertain outcome; this is why most large revolutions have involved spiral theory, a strategic approach adopted by some revolutionary movements in which violent acts are undertaken against state targets with the intention of provoking an indiscriminate repressive response against an associated social group that is relatively uninvolved with the action itself. This repressive response is sought for its ability to radicalise a population that is currently apolitical or unsupportive of violent revolution. Spiral theory played a significant role in revolutions in Ireland, Cuba, Russia, China, North America, and many other countries throughout various periods of history.
After a cadre has formed, the next most essential step is to form support networks between less committed individuals. Their most essential role is to build wider public support, because the cadre generally operates underground and cannot defend their own actions in public settings. These support networks are they key mechanism behind expanding broader acceptance of revolutionary actions and increasing the size of the cadre.
Contemporary climate movements have been crippled because the dominant culture, which perpetuates climate collapse and ecological destruction, has been able to provide for the basic needs of the majority of the public. This allows them to frame effective direct action as extremist and as a threat to the basic needs of the public, which elicits strong opposition to effective activism. Moreover, climate activism has been ineffective because any truly successful outcomes would involve diminishing the quality of life of the majority of people (at least of those residing in the dominant culture). Peoples’ short-term awareness and their aversion to temporary suffering is greater than their reaction to long-term risk, and so they will continue to oppose meaningful action against climate collapse until their basic needs can no longer be met by industrialism.
The only way to escape this cycle is to convince the public that their political systems cannot meet their basic needs, and that those governmental structures pose an existential and near-term threat. So long as the public has faith in the processes of government to save them, they will continue to perpetuate industrial scale ecological destruction, either through their active participation or through their opposition to revolutionary actions. Therefore, it is essential that revolutionaries and their supporters prioritise the erosion of public faith in government while simultaneously inciting legitimate dread about existential and near-term threats.
by DGR News Service | Sep 19, 2019 | Biodiversity & Habitat Destruction, The Problem: Civilization
by Liam Campbell
Skies in North America are falling silent. No, airplanes haven’t been grounded yet, unfortunately. It’s the birds who are missing. Since 1970 bird populations in the United States and Canada have collapsed by 29% (that’s 2.9 billion fewer birds), according to a recent report published in the journal Science. David Yarnold, president and chief executive of the National Audobon Society has declared a “full-blown crisis.” The results surveyed over 500 species and revealed that even historically abundant birds like robins and sparrows have begun to disappear at an alarming rate.
Healthy bird populations are critical. Without them, ecosystems become unbalanced, pollination rates diminish, seeds are not spread effectively, and forests become unhealthy. Although the public has focused on a few saving a few icononic species, like bald eagles and spotted owls, less popular species like sparrows can actually have a bigger impact; their disappearance may cause a cascade of devastating ecological failures. What’s staggering about this research is that it revealed that almost all bird populations, across the board, are plummeting at an alarming rate. Even starlings, an invasive species which are historically abundant and reproduce rapidly, have experienced a 49% decline.
These losses are not limited to North America. Europe is witnessing similar declines and, like in America, grasslands are worst hit. Modern agricultural practices and human development are the leading causes of plummeting populations, with neonicontinoid pesticides causing particular harm. In 1962 Rachel Carson predicted many of these outcomes in her book Silent Spring. When you step back and look at the situation, it’s obvious what’s really killing these birds: human overconsumption. The only way to save these birds, and the ecosystems which rely on them, is to protect their remaining habitats, stop the use of toxic chemicals, and reduce the footprint of humanity on the world.
by DGR News Service | Sep 17, 2019 | Agriculture, Biodiversity & Habitat Destruction
by Liam Campbell
In 1997, forest fires in Indonesia grew so large that they accounted for 40% of global emissions during that period. The Borneo rainforest is the most ancient in the world, having taken 120 million years to evolve into its current state of rich diversity. Indonesia is also home to some of the world’s largest tropic peat bogs, deep and vast stockpiles of carbon which have formed over millennia. When these peat bogs ignite they are almost impossible to extinguish because they burn deeply into the Earth and smoulder for weeks or even months, and they can also release millions of years worth of stored carbon into the atmosphere very suddenly. Although seasonal fires are common in the Borneo, climate collapse has made the rainforest more susceptible, and the magnitude of this year’s fires are already unfathomable.
Many of the fires we’re seeing right now are caused by exploitative agriculturalists who are burning the rainforest to open land up for human crops and livestock. In doing so, they are destroying 120 million years of evolution and rapidly annihilating one of the Earth’s most diverse and ancient living ecosystems. Although Indonesia claims to be doing “everything in their power” to extinguish the fires, they are not doing nearly enough to prevent them from happening in the first place. Only about 200 suspects have been arrested in relation to the arsons, and it is likely that many of them will be released without charges or consequences. It is understandable that individual farmers may be tempted by the prospect of opening more land for profitable exploitation, but the act of burning such an ancient ecosystem is among the worst crimes a human can commit; it not only endangers the rest of the planet’s climate, it destroys one of the most ancient living systems on this planet.
Most of the fires were started by palm oil plantations, which are often owned by large corporations. Officials estimate that about 80% of the fires were set intentionally and they now number in the thousands, with 2,900 especially bad hot spots. In all, only about two dozen palm oil plantations have been temporarily shut down in connection to arsons, they are primarily owned by Malaysian and Singaporean companies. These companies are unlikely to face significant charges or repercussions, and will likely return to increasingly profitable business after paying fines.
by DGR News Service | Sep 12, 2019 | Culture of Resistance, Strategy & Analysis, The Solution: Resistance
Editor’s note: this article references Spiral Theory, which is a strategic approach adopted by some revolutionary movements in which violent acts are undertaken against state targets with the intention of provoking an indiscriminate repressive response against an associated social group that is relatively uninvolved with the action itself. This repressive response is sought for its ability to radicalize a population that is currently apolitical or unsupportive of violent revolution.
by Liam Campbell
Cuba’s revolution is a testament to how powerful a small number of dedicated, intelligent, and organised people can be. Despite seemingly impossible odds, a few dozen people managed to overthrow a despotic government which was supported by the might of the United States government. Many figures played key roles in Cuba’s Movimiento 26 de Julio (July 26th Movement), but Fidel Castro was unquestionably the central leader and architect. How did a boy raised in a rural setting, by a mostly illiterate family, manage to outsmart and outmanoeuvre a sophisticated and well connected government? Let’s explore this question.
In the 1940s and 1950s, Cuba was essentially a corporatocracy owned by a handful of American monopolies. It was a playground for wealthy Americans, only a short distance from Florida, where the priveleged could consume voraciously. All of this glitz and glamour was supported by a dark underbelly of corruption, poverty, and the near slavery conditions of Cuba’s working classes. Castro famously wrote that it was a nation were teachers had no classrooms and where peasants had no land, but where imperialists were able to siphon millions of dollars of public funds into private coffers.
It was in this climate of extreme corruption and inequity that Castro first became involved in politics. His Mother, who could not read or write, insisted that he should have the best education; despite being thrown out of his first boarding school for unruly behaviour, Castro was eventually invited to attend Cuba’s most prestigious university, in Havana. Crime and violence were commonplace, even in the universities, and people often commented that “if you are to be politically effective, you need to be willing to wield a gun.” It was in this extreme climate that Castro began organising marches and other protest actions, primarily against corruption. For protection, Castro pragmatically joined a gang that supported his political activism. Havana had become a heavily disenfranchised city, having seen successive, failed independence movements; leaders of these movements were either bought out or killed. Few people had faith in the institutions of the government and there was a growing sentiment that revolution would be necessary.
Upon graduating, Castro opened a small law firm in Havana, which meagerly supported his true passion: political organising. He had become a talented orator and was an increasingly recognised figure among the political circles of the city. He eventually decided to run for political office as a member of the Orthodox Party, which was influenced by Jesuit Nationalists from the Spanish Civil War. Castro ran on an anti-corruption platform and openly opposed American imperialism and influence over Cuba. Before the start of the election, on March 10th, General Batista led a coup and took over the government as dictator; this coup destroyed any remaining faith in political processes and was deeply unpopular among the public. In this changing climate, people sought out audacious leaders rather than run-of-the-mill politicians, and Castro prepared himself for this role.
The period after Batista’s coup was difficult for many Cubans, including Castro who began to experience extreme economic hardship. It was at his lowest point that Castro decided “I have to deliver a blow, I have to spark a revolution.” He organised a group of fellow revolutionaries and planned an audacious assault on the Mancada Army Barracks. It was understood that their odds of success were low, but they believed that “even if it fails, it will be heroic and have symbolic value.” In total, nearly 80 revolutionaries agreed to the assault — it resulted in a massacre.
In the end, 8 revolutionaries were killed outright, 12 were wounded, and 60 were captured, tortured, and eventually executed. Batista made a critical mistake by organising mass retaliations and engaging in a national crackdown, which was deeply unpopular and turned Castro and the other revolutionaries into public heroes; they had dared to defy a violent, unpopular, authoritarian regime. This was a very famous example of Spiral Theory working in favour of a revolutionary movement, and it was a mistake that Batista would repeat throughout his brief career. After Castro was captured, he was saved from execution by an Archbishop who intervened on his behalf, and he was sentenced to 15 years in prison. Castro used his trial as a public platform to make impassioned calls for revolution, it was during this spectacle that he made the famous remark “condemn me, it does not matter, history will absolve me.”
While in prison, Castro was strongly influenced by the writings of Marxist authors who proposed that the workers should own the fruits of production, and that one state should be ruled by one party. Castro claimed that “prison [was] a terrific school.” He wrote his seminal book History Will Asbolve Me, which was snuck out, a few pages at a time, by his wife. This book had a profound impact on Cuban readers because it spoke of unemployment, empty schools for lack of teachers, farmers who did not own the land, and the extreme inequity between those who worked and those who ruled; it was a book about social justice. His writing fit within norms of 1950s Cuba, which was leaning toward centre left.
After 22 months of confinement, Castro was released from prison after Batista issued amnesty orders — I speculate that he did so in order to inhibit Castro from continuing his state-sponsored writing. Castro was only 29 years old, but he had become a recnogised political figure in Cuba. After release, he began the 26th of July Movement, in memory of the Macada Barracks assault. He traveled abroad, organised likeminded revolutionaries, and trained extensively. When his rebels were ready, in 1956, he set sail on a 65′ yatch for Cuba. In total, there were 82 people aboard and they were prepared to die for Cuban independence. They were spotted before landing and were met with overwhelming military force at the beach. Most of were killed, but Castro and 17 others survived the ambush and fled into the mountains to organise a guerilla insurgency. The struggle was wildly asymetrical, so they focused on building strong relationships with local communities and developing an international reputation. Within 3 months they reappeared on the front page of the New York Times in a series of 3 articles written by Herbert Matthew; this started the legend of Fidel Castro. Castro and his rebels began developing regional trust by providing aid to peasant communities throughout the mountains. They focused on healthcare, food, and security. These efforts were successful and support grew rapidly among the disenfranchised and neglected communities of the region.
The story was different in Cuba’s cities. Batista began brutal crackdowns on anyone who was thought to be affiliated with anti-government activism, including members of the July 26th Movement. A group called the Student Revolutionary Directorate stormed the Presidential Palace in 1957 in an attempt to assassinate Batista, but their leader was gunned down and they failed in the attempt. Batista launched a series of extreme crackdowns, which accidentally targeted innocent people and resulted in widespread backlash, another example of Spiral Theory in action. In Santiago, the July 26th underground faction engaged in fierce urban warfare and bore the brunt of repression; their leader was eventually ambushed and killed. These martyrs became the focus of peaceful public protests and Batista’s harsh, sweeping reprisals generated increasingly intense public backlash.
It was around this time that political forces in Cuba recognised that Castro was the leading contender for national leadership, and they traveled into the Sierra Maestro mountains to meet him. Both opposition leaders and members of the July 26th Movement formed an assembly in the mountains and they produced The Manifesto of the Sierra Maestro, which worked out the details of a future coalition government. The document called for a democratic republic, free elections, and returning to the constitution of 1940. Castro signed the document but realised early on that he had the unequivocal support of both his rebels and the people, and so he didn’t need politics anymore. According to his worldview, the purpose of revolution is to subvert society, to take people from the bottom, and everyone else, and create something entirely new.
In 1958, Batista decided to engage in all-out warfare again Castro by deploying 10,000 troops against Castro’s 300 rebels. Within a month, they had fully encircled the revolutionaries, but they had been drawn deep into the territory of Castro’s loyalists. Although they were profoundly outnumbered and outgunned, Castro issued a simple order: “hit them where they least expect it.” The revolutionaries engaged in hit-and-run tactics, used their agility, and leveraged their community support to devastate Batista’s large, but wavering, army. In response, Batista ordered inreasingly brutal reprisals against both revolutionaries and the communities of the Sierra Maestro mountains; these horrific actions were documented and resulted in the United States withdrawing military support in order to avoid international scrutiny. This was the beginning of the end for Batista.
In August of 1958, Castro’s rebels left the mountains and fanned out across Cuba, finally going on the offensive. They recognised that Batista had lost international support, was despised by the public, and that his troops were wavering after demoralising attacks. This offensive involved extensive sabotage and culminated in Che Guevara derailing an armoured train and taking Santa Clara. This was the last straw and Batista’s forces began to break ranks. In the beginning of 1959, Batista fled Cuba with his friends and a stolen fortune of over $100 million. On January 2nd, Fidel Castro and his army staged a 200 mile victory march to Havana, where he spoke at every stop. His use of media energised the public and created a sense of victory, unity, and possibility. The rest is history.
This is how a tiny number of people overthrew a repressive government which was backed by the might of the American empire.
