Yesterday, I was foolhardy enough to post a sort of love/breakup letter to “the anarchist movement.” By this morning, what I had intended as a very personal gesture was just another bit of anarchist news, subject to the usual anarchist scorn, but not, it seems, worthy of any personal response. I know. I know: Don’t read the comments… But, honestly, the thing that makes comments so consistently unreadable is the thing that makes the things I wanted to say so damn nearly unspeakable.
Anyway, since the whole thing feels like an embarrassing falling-out with an imaginary friend, I will try to learn my lesson and move on.
The only thing that matters, I suppose, is this: I love and believe in the ideal of Anarchy. I love and believe in a small number of people who call themselves “anarchists.” I do all the things I do as a labor of love, and will continue to do them as long as they are fulfilling and seem useful. And I simply wash my hands of the rest of it, all the unspeakably stupid pretense of a shared project, all the values which seem not only unconnected, but actively inimical to the things I care about. In time, I imagine there will be a feeling of relief…
