Massimo Passamani

In my opinion, many of the misunderstandings relating to democratic management originate in the ambiguity of the concept of social consensus. The following paragraph contains a line of reasoning that is now widespread among a good number of anarchists.

When the foundation of the society of domination was visibly the brutality of force, the meaning of the practice of revolt was obvious to the exploited. If they did not rebel, it was precisely because the blackmail of the police and of hunger constrained them to resignation and misery. Therefore, it was necessary to act with determination against this blackmail. Now, however, state institutions benefit from the participation of the masses, however induced, since a high pressure operation of conditioning has made them consent. For this reason revolt should be shifted onto the plane of delegitimation, of the gradual and broadening erosion of social consensus. Consequently, it is by starting from these little zones where authority has lost its legitimacy, has been put in parentheses so to speak, that we could make a project of social transformation grow. Or else rebellion becomes an end in itself, in the best of cases, a useless and misunderstood gesture of witness, in the worst of cases, a contribution to repression and a dangerous departure from the real needs of the exploited.

It seems to me that this is the substance of a discussion that at different times gets dressed up in a thousand different ways. In reality, this entire line of reasoning is based on a false presupposition, that is, on the separation of social consensus and repression. It is clear that the state needs both of these instruments of control, and I believe that no one falls into the insipid error of denying it. But recognizing that power cannot stand with the police alone, or with the television alone, is not enough. What is important is to understand how the police and the television relate to each other.

Legitimation and coercion only seem to be different conditions when social consensus is thought of as a kind of immaterial apparatus that shapes the materiality of command; in other words, when one thinks that the production of a specific psychological behavior -- that of acceptance -- lies somewhere other than in the structures of exploitation and obligation that are based on such an attitude. From this point of view, whether any such production happens earlier (as preparation) or later (as a justification) is irrelevant. The thing that is of interest is that it doesn't happen at the same time. And this is where the separation of which I spoke is placed.

In reality, the division between the inner sphere of consciousness and the practical sphere of action only exists in the heads -- and the projects -- of priests of every stripe. But in the end even they are forced to give their heavenly fantasies an earthly terrain. Just as Descartes had to make the pineal gland into the place where the soul rested, so the bourgeoisie designated private property as the stronghold of their impoverished sanctified I. In a similar manner, the modern democrat, not knowing where to place social consensus, has recourse to the vote and the opinion poll. As the last one to arrive, the up-to-date libertarian situates the delegitimating practice in a "non-state public sphere" with mysterious boundaries.

Social consensus is a commodity just like a hamburger or the need for prison. Indeed, if the most totalitarian society is the one that knows how to give chains the color of freedom, it has become the commodity par excellence. If the most effective repression is the sort that blots out the very desire for rebellion, social consensus is preventative repression, policing of ideas and decision. Its production is material like that of the barracks or the supermarket. Newspapers, television and advertising are powers equal to banks and armies.

When the problem is posed in this way, it becomes clear how so-called legitimation is nothing other than command. Social consensus is force, and its imposition is exercised through precise structures. This means -- and here is the conclusion that no one wants to draw from it -- that it can be attacked. In the contrary situation, one would be clashing with a phantom that, once it is visible, has already won. Our possibility for acting would be completely one with our impotence. I could certainly strike this realization of power, but its legitimation always arrives -- from where no one knows -- before and after my attack and nullifies its meaning.

As you can see, one's way of understanding the reality of domination gives rise to one's way of conceiving revolt. And vice versa.

Participation in power's projects has become more widespread and daily life is increasingly colonized. City planning renders police control partially superfluous and virtual reality destroys all dialogue. All this increases the necessity for insurrection (it certainly doesn't eliminate it). If we were to wait for everyone to become anarchists before making revolution, Malatesta said, we'd be in trouble. If we were to wait for the delegitimation of power before attacking it, we'd be in trouble. But fortunately, waiting is not among the risks of the insatiable. The only thing we have to lose is our patience.

Insurrectionary Anarchists of the Coast Salish Territories