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by Andrew Burleson⁠

Urban life is about more than walkable streets. Andrew Burleson argues that its defining quality is connectedness: the social fabric linking homes, shops, schools, public spaces and everyday activities. In car-dependent suburbs, journeys often pass through spaces that discourage interaction, leaving destinations isolated from one another. In connected neighbourhoods, streets become shared social spaces where residents encounter neighbours, discover local events and build relationships. Children gain greater independence, while communities become stronger. Walkability, Burleson suggests, is not the cause of vibrant urban life but an outcome of connected places where people can participate in the life around them.

by Ricardo Vaz and Lucas Koerner

Between smiles and a handshake, Venezuelan Acting President Delcy Rodríguez thanked US President Donald Trump for “supporting the country’s return to multilateral forums,” following a face-to-face meeting on September 22 that she called “historic.”

by Daniela Pastrana

The expansion of the far right in Latin America is giving continental form to Project 2025—the anti-democratic Republican plan drafted by the Heritage Foundation with the support of more than 100 Christian nationalist organizations in the United States and various officials close to Donald Trump.

by Resumen Latinoamericano

Dozens of people were injured and arrested, and journalists, photographers, and cameramen were attacked—this was the outcome on Thursday of one of the most brutal crackdowns ever seen in this capital, aimed at preventing the fifth massive march of students, teachers, university workers, and educators from reaching the Plaza del Congreso de la Nación. The marchers were demanding the budget rightfully allocated to public universities—a debt that judges, in more than four rulings, had ordered President Javier Milei’s government to pay.

by Thomas Klikauer

Germany’s automotive crisis is accelerating a shift from civilian production to armaments, as corporations seek new sources of profit and the government expands military spending. Thomas Klikauer examines how companies such as Audi, Rheinmetall and other manufacturers are redirecting resources and workers towards the arms industry while layoffs and plant closures threaten jobs. He argues that the crisis reflects managerial failures and technological stagnation rather than a lack of resources. The article calls for investment in electric mobility, public transport, research and employment security, warning against turning Germany’s industrial base into an engine of militarisation and military conflict.

by Eusi Kwayana

In 1974 a new opposition group was formed, the Working People's Alliance (WPA). Besides Kwayana, its leading figures included Walter Rodney, an internationally known writer and political activist who was assassinated in June 1980, presumably by supporters of the Burnham regime. Though WPA members and leaders were often victimized by police repression, the WPA emerged as one of the most active left-wing organizations in the country.

by Phil Pasquini

Thousands of Italian students and teachers join a growing European protest movement, challenging Giorgia Meloni's education policies and demanding investment in schools instead of militarization.

by Anthony Karefa Rogers-Wright

Artificial intelligence and hyperscale data center buildout constitute a new front of environmental racism and a project to optimize white supremacy, with Black communities targeted as sacrifice zones.

LabourStart headline - Source: EuroNews

Oklo is going nowhere while Deep Fission gets buried

Donald Trump’s popularity may be waning, but the political-economic conditions that gave rise to Trumpism remain, Adolph Reed argues. To defeat the Right, the Left needs to rebuild durable working-class organization and a universalistic politics.

Selection from Eibisch, Jonathan (2024): Politische Theorie des Anarchismus, transcript Verlag: Bielefeld, S. 187-208. (open access: https://www.transcript-verlag.de/978-3-8376-7183-4) machined translated text from German to American English.

Author Jonathan Eibisch Submitted by John Lost on November 2, 2026

3.3 Anarchist Communism

Anarchist communism was developed as a departure from and further development of mutualist and collectivist approaches, which were criticized, on the one hand, for being too reformist and, on the other hand, for failing to resolve fundamental problems of the state-capitalist social order. This concerned, above all, debates regarding the remuneration of labor and the handling of property relations. Communist anarchists advocate for the decoupling of labor and remuneration, as well as the abolition of private ownership of the means of production and the socialization of wealth. They can be considered radical insofar as they aim to transform social relations as a whole (Turcado 2019: 237f.). Furthermore, they replaced earlier anarchist references to “the people” as a subject with a broad concept of class. In contrast to other communists, they emphasized that the goal of an anarcho-communist social system is the full development of individuals, which is reflected in the debates between them and individualist anarchists (→ 4). Davide Turcado traces the origins of anarchist communism to the year 1876, based on Malatesta and Cafiero’s critique of collectivism (ibid. : 238), although James Guillaume also played a significant role (Cahm 1989: 36 –43).
This approach places particular emphasis on education and propaganda, since the development of class consciousness is regarded as an essential prerequisite for the emancipatory orientation of social-revolutionary processes, while avant-garde claims are rejected with reference to the self-organization of the proletarianized classes. As the best-known theorist of anarchist communism, Kropotkin emphasized that desirable communist and anarchist conditions can exist in parallel with the existing capitalist and state-based systems of domination (→ Fig. 4). Thus—in contrast to Marxism—capitalism would by no means be a precondition for socialism, and a state-led introduction of socialism would not only be impossible but would also undermine itself. Furthermore, communism cannot be implemented against the will of the people; rather, it must be realized by the people themselves. The focal point of anarchist-communist aspirations is the vision of a federation of decentralized, autonomous communes.[1]
Wilhelm Weitling can be considered a pioneer of anarchist communism. In his 1838–39 work *Guarantees of Harmony and Freedom* (Weitling 1974), he develops “ideas for the reorganization of society.” This theoretical framework bridges the gap between the earlier early-socialist concepts of Charles Fourier, Robert Owen, and Henri de Saint-Simon and modern communist understandings of social transformation and organization. Weitling oscillates between a messianic hope for redemption (ibid., 256f.) and the notion of continuous historical progress (ibid., 7), as well as between, on the one hand, a reluctance to establish fixed plans and programs for the desired social order and, on the other hand, a desire to formulate precisely such proposals in detail. These are ambivalences which anarcho-communism also seeks to convey.
With regard to the pursuit of autonomy, the three-step process—the dismantling of state-mediated relations, the establishment of social-revolutionary class power, and finally the self-organization of a libertarian-socialist society—is carried out. The selection of texts refers to Kropotkin (1892/1973) , Malatesta (1892–1932/2014), and Most (1884/2006A, 1899–1905/2006B) with regard to classical anarchism, and is continued with Bookchin (1982, 1990), Graeber (2004, 2007, 2009, 2011, 2012, 2014) and Milstein (2013) with regard to contemporary anarchist thinkers.[2]

3.3.1 Abolition of State-Mediated Relations

In the essay *The Conquest of Bread*, the foundations of anarchist communism are clearly outlined. Kropotkin’s aim is to provide a rational analysis of society, from which he sketchily derives the programmatic foundations of a libertarian-socialist form of society. While Marx begins his seminal work *Capital* with the observation that “the wealth of societies in which the capitalist mode of production prevails appears as an ‘immense collection of commodities,’ with the individual commodity as its elementary form” (MEW23: 49), Kropotkin assumes an immense wealth in civilized societies, which is not necessarily subsumed into the capitalist commodity form. With this wealth, “prosperity for all” (Kropotkin 1973: 71) could be created. To make this possible, he argues, it would first be necessary to engage in enlightenment, demystify the ideology of domination, and make class relations visible—relations he describes as fundamentally antagonistic (ibid.: 79, 107). He views this antagonism in a nuanced way and rejects the assumption that it is bound to escalate (ibid.: 82ff.). He notes that production does not take place according to abilities and needs, and that nation-states are engaged in international competition and perpetual warfare, yet at the same time, alternatives exist, which he describes using the concepts of mutual aid and self-organization (ibid.: 69–81).
The critique of capitalism goes hand in hand with that of the state, as archetypically expressed in Johann Most’s polemical writings, according to which the state and government “are a stumbling block to civilizational development in the liberal sense [...] [serving to] plunder, tyranny, and degeneration” (Most 2006Bt: 152) of the “masses” and to the perpetuation of class distinctions.” Most emphasizes the violent nature of the state, both in its establishment and its maintenance (Most 2006c: 125). [3] In doing so, he expresses a fundamental anarchist assumption, which Milstein also takes as her starting point for the present day when she characterizes the state as “an artificial, alienating, and oppressive construct” (Milstein 2013: 30). The delegitimization of the state is the propagandistic means par excellence and forms the prerequisite for the establishment of class power. Accordingly, Most first and foremost criticizes the state in its ideological function when he writes that this “worship of the state was just as naive as the worship of God. Just as the believers of old imagined a supernatural regulator of things, so the new believers dreamed of a state power that was outside and above society” (Most 2006Aa: 25).
Graeber brings this idea into the present by examining the state’s monopoly on violence as an integral part of securing power relations within social institutions, which are ideologically veiled and presented as natural law. Another factor at play here is that the sovereignty of the state remains tied to this day to the metaphysical fiction of a personified ruler, even though it is actually well known that domination is abstract and exercised through the everyday actions of many subjects (Graeber 2009f: 511ff., cf. Graeber/Sahlins 2017). Furthermore, structural power relations impose one-sided conceptual frameworks on their victims and restrict their capacity for imagination (ibid.: 519). Nevertheless, abstract and systematic domination generates hierarchies and forms of dominance that, in turn, have concrete effects on the social relationships, perceptions, and behaviors of individuals (Graeber 2007a: 16). Graeber thus places the ideological dimension of state and capitalist domination at the center of his critique, as illustrated, for example, by the false notion that the market and the state are opposing principles (Graeber 2011: 18ff.). He criticizes the institution of private property (see Graeber 2007a: 21) for forcing all values to be subordinated to capitalist economic value (Graeber 2012d: 73ff. ).
Most had already described this as a delusional “obsession with property” (Most 2006Ad: 127).[4] Democracy, he writes, is a form of government full of “flaws and lies,” but undoubtedly better than dictatorship, even though the two are interdependent, as Malatesta (2014e: 168–172). Most’s stance is certainly purposeful, yet not instrumental, because her agitational goals are made explicit (cf. Most 2006Bg: 69f.). The active dissemination of anarchist propaganda and the shaping of public opinion, combined with anarchist endeavors, thus represent means of mobilizing exploited and subjugated people, motivating them toward self-organization and independent action.[5] The identification of domination, its delegitimization, propaganda, education, and—building on these—organization were the essential areas of focus for the early anarchist communists. However, these concepts were also further developed and viewed in a more nuanced way, as exemplified by Bookchin, who expands and defines the concept of class domination to include that of social hierarchy:
“By hierarchy, I mean the cultural, traditional, and psychological systems of obedience and command, not merely the economic and political systems to which the terms ‘class’ and ‘state’ most appropriately refer. Accordingly, hierarchy and domination could easily continue to exist in a ‘classless’ or ‘stateless’ society. [...] Hierarchy is not merely a social condition; it is also a state of consciousness, a sensibility toward phenomena at every level of personal and social experience” (Bookchin 1982: 4).
Kropotkin explains that anarchist communism emerged from a critique of mutualism, in contrast to utopian socialism and in rejection of state socialism. To arrive at this perspective, it would therefore be necessary to dismantle the logic of domination and to demonstrate that government and the state, capitalism, and the formation of monopolies are not necessary for a functioning modern form of society, even if they are supported by political philosophy, the legal system, and historiography and are thus institutionalized as an order of domination (Kropotkin 1973: 101ff.). Most articulates these assumptions about the state—and the associated critique of appealing to it—in a pointed manner. The discussions about a socialist people’s state did
“not improve until anarchist ideas also found their way into the debates on this issue. From that point on, it was demonstrated that one did not have to pursue a ‘clever,’ opportunistic, forward-looking, or—at best—‘revolutionary’ policy, but rather that one had to do away with politics altogether. It was demonstrated that all state purposes become obsolete with the abolition of private property and that it is therefore downright absurd to strive for any kind of state as the external form of a communist society” (Most 2006Ab: 58f.).
At this point, therefore, the rejection of politics is articulated, insofar as political modes of action always correspond, directly or indirectly, to state logic and thereby reproduce its false basic assumptions. Like all anarchist communists, Most assumes a necessary connection between communism and anarchy (Most 2006Bb: 26, cf. Hoff 2016: 39–42), explains why they are opposed to the state and capitalism (Most 2006Bc: 28), and consequently also opposes the nationalization of the means of production: “ If one were to entrust the state with establishing and developing communism, one would obviously be putting the fox in charge of the henhouse” (Most 2006Bc: 29). He thus rejects the thesis of the withering away of the state. Rather, he argues, the state must be actively destroyed (Most 2006Bc: 31). Interestingly, there is a slight divergence here from Kropotkin, who relativizes the anti implications of anarchist communism, although his aim is, of course, also the overcoming of political and economic domination. The alternative social order can only be fought for and established as a whole, which ultimately requires expropriation. It would be “completely impossible” to carry it out,
“if society is organized according to the principle of parliamentary representation. A society based on serfdom was incompatible with monarchy; a society based on the wage system and exploitation by capitalists finds its appropriate political expression in parliamentarism. But a free society reclaiming its common heritage must, in harmonious accord with the new economic phase of history phase. Each economic phase corresponds to a political phase, and it would not be possible to challenge private property unless a new mode of political life were found at the same time” (Kropotkin 1973: 106).
With this statement, Kropotkin thus aims to overcome the domineering nature of politics and implies that there is a non-domineering political mode, the development of which is a prerequisite for expropriation and thus for libertarian socialism. Ultimately, this amounts to the same thing and reveals different understandings of politics, or rather the tension inherent in the concept of politics. Similarly, Most—setting aside his anti-political statements—insists on the constructive character of anarchist communism (Most 2006Bc: 34). Taking Milstein’s line of thought further, the main problem lies in the fact that “so-called statecraft [...] essentially consists of a small group of people determining, administering, and controlling all of social life. At the same time, the state perpetuates a range of other forms of domination, such as institutional racism and heteronormativity” (Milstein 2013: 41).
For the contemporary activist, “overcoming the state and capital [...] means nothing less than turning the world upside down, breaking all monopolies, and rebuilding everything anew—and doing so collectively: from ethical values to everyday life to social institutions” (Milstein 2013: 38). The comprehensive expropriation of private property and its socialization is an inevitable prerequisite for a form of society based on libertarian-socialist ideals (Kropotkin 1973: 87), the tendencies toward which are already in place (ibid. 95). That vision of the realization of comprehensive equality arises from the very resistance to structures of domination—including at the level of the imaginary—which is why the (desirable) future can be partially discovered, Graeber writes to Kropotkin in a subsequent letter. Therefore, there is no need to invoke an exaggerated mystical Other or an external realm (Graeber 2007b: 283). The future “has become a kind of hidden dimension of reality, an immanent present lying behind the mundane surface of the world, with a constant potential to break out only in tiny, imperfect flashes. In this sense [...] [we are already living in a future] which we suspect will actually come to pass—perhaps humdrum, perhaps catastrophic, certainly not in any sense redemptive” (Graeber 2012e: 103). Milstein continues this line of thought by stating,
“Anarchist projects aim to fundamentally transform production. In direct contrast to capitalism, emphasis is placed on the self-management of producers, who find themselves reflected in their products and are in turn recognized by consumers through them. Production and labor are thus transformed so that people can produce according to their preferences and labor becomes a pleasurable activity that ensures the satisfaction of our basic material needs” (Milstein 2013: 52).
This conviction has proven enduring, though it may have been Kropotkin’s writing that lent it credibility at the time. He put it this way:
“ [To] escape impending ruin, human societies must return to the fundamental principles: since the means of production are the collective product of humanity, the products should be the collective property of the human race. Their individual appropriation is neither just nor beneficial. Everything belongs to everyone. All things for all people, because all people need them and have contributed to production according to their abilities, and because it is impossible to determine each individual’s share in the production of the world’s wealth” (Kropotkin 1973: 80) .
To substantiate this, Kropotkin attempts a detailed accounting of socially necessary labor (ibid.: 166–169), abolishes the distinction between wage labor and the invisible reproductive labor shifted onto women—which condemns them to “domestic slavery” (ibid.: 189), and proposes, to this end, the collectivization of housework in cooperative housing complexes as well as its mechanization (ibid.: 192–195).
Finally, he addresses rhetorically presented objections to the anarchist-communist conception, which boil down to rebuttals of the claim that non-subjugated people are supposedly lazy and violent, whereby Kropotkin fundamentally relies on the persuasive power of an anarchist-communist social system (ibid.: 213–232; see Most 2006Be: 50).
Bookchin continues this narrative, which draws conclusions about a potentially possible social order from existing conditions, writing that the “reconstructive and destructive tendencies in our times are too much at odds with each other to admit of reconciliation. The social horizon presents the starkly conflicting prospects of a harmonized world with an ecological sensibility based on a rich commitment to community, mutual aid, and new technologies, on the one hand, and the terrifying prospect of some sort of thermonuclear disaster on the other” (Bookchin 1982: 16). In the spirit of the anarchist-communist tradition, Bookchin’s thinking is holistic, as is also expressed in his concept of social ecology, which is oriented toward a non-instrumental approach and in which the living world is not perceived as a resource (Ibid.: 20ff.). However, Bookchin expands this holism through the insights of environmentalism, whose “unity of diversity” can also be clearly distinguished from fascism (ibid.: 23f.), whereby he evidently draws on a conception of “equilibrium” in the Proudhonian tradition, to which Milstein (2013: 36) also refers.
Furthermore, for the latter, this means “dissolving relations of domination [...] and redesigning oneself, specifically in the context of a redesign of the entire world” (ibid.: 48). To this end, one would need to align one’s own being, with all its potential, with an ethical compass, which would understandably give rise to contradictions and reveal a gap between aspiration and reality (ibid.: 49). For Milstein, it is clear that the experience of anarchy is often concretely possible on various levels in small projects, which is why an engagement with history is necessary—and thus a historical consciousness as well as a transformation of relationships and social structures (ibid.: 13–32, 47). Kropotkin knows that the development of class consciousness requires historical consciousness—more specifically, knowledge of the past revolutions of 1848 and 1871. These must be subject to comprehensive criticism: because of the new hierarchies and bureaucracies they produced, their primarily political orientation, the insufficient transformation of property relations, as well as the formation of fictitious majorities and alliances behind which no real power of revolutionary movements stood (Kropotkin 1973: 88ff.).

3.3.2 Building Social-Revolutionary Class Power

For the development of class power, the first question that arises concerns the revolutionary subject—or rather, the revolutionary subjects, since the proletariat is understood as heterogeneous in anarchist communism. Malatesta includes agricultural workers in the proletariat (Malatesta 2014d: 138) and further identifies conflicting interests between employed and unemployed workers, privileged and precarious workers, and native and migrant workers. He also sees differences between working men and women, as well as between occupational groups that benefit from protective tariffs and those that do not. To enable joint organizations and struggles, these differences and the associated conflicts must not be glossed over (Ibid.: 145f.). Most also notes that the proletariat is not a homogeneous entity, since the living standards of wage earners vary enormously and average wages are virtually impossible to determine. Conventional classifications no longer applied to the distinction between a “proletarian aristocracy” and a “fifth estate” (Most 2006Br: 139ff., cf. Most 2006By: 194ff.).
Bookchin builds on this argument by rejecting the monolithic image of the proletariat in Marxist party doctrine and addressing the “failure of proletarian socialism,” which he contrasts with party and state socialism as a grassroots movement (Bookchin 1990: 126ff.). Furthermore, he addresses the integration of proletarian strata into the bourgeois order of domination, rather than their antagonistic relationship having intensified. He attributes this to hierarchical factory management, rationalized production methods, technical crisis management, the promotion of patriotism at the expense of international class solidarity, and the numerical decline of the actual proletariat (ibid.: 131ff., cf. Gorz 1988: 11–36).
In his engagement with post-operaist theories, Graeber maintains that one should refer to the so-called “lumpenproletariat” rather than to the supposedly progressive segments of the proletariat (Graeber 2012e: 88), although the concept of the “multitude” nevertheless meets with some sympathy on his part (Graeber 2009f: 530). This becomes clear when he writes that the oppressed do not need to be convinced that the system is rotten, but only that they can do something about it (Graeber 2012a: 26). Truly marginalized social groups tend to demand a radical break with the system (Graeber 2009c: 245), which is why they would be significant if they had not (yet) been fully absorbed into and integrated by capitalism, but could, like many indigenous communities, organize autonomously (Graeber 2007c: 310). In Graeber’s view, “revolutionary coalitions always [...] tend to consist of an alliance between the society
’s least alienated and its most oppressed. And this is less of an elitist formulation than it might sound, because it also seems to be the case that actual revolutions tend to occur when these two categories come to overlap” (ibid.). Here, he notes, there is the problem of the privileged access required to the relatively privileged “activist scene,” a problem that is, however, addressed within that scene itself (Graeber 2009c: 240ff.). Building on the points mentioned, Bookchin broadens the understanding of revolutionary subjects and advocates for “unity in diversity,” grounded in the assumption of people’s capacity for self-organization. Thus, “a revolutionary movement cannot emerge from particularist approaches as it did in the past […]. [Yet] the ecological crisis of our time has the potential to mobilize public support and engagement more broadly and across class lines than any previous human issue” (Bookchin 1990: 171). In contrast, the sense of deprivation that capitalism generates despite its material abundance is a significant factor in integrating individuals into the system of domination. Therefore, according to Bookchin, a change in lifestyle is necessary—and consequently an (Enlightenment-inspired) questioning of civilization—in order to reshape society (ibid.: 169).
Accordingly, the New Left drew on other revolutionary subjects who rediscovered the anarchist and utopian visions of early revolutionary socialism and lived in countercultures (ibid.: 149). An important theoretical foundation of anarchism is that desirable historical developments cannot arise from existing power relations and institutions, but must be realized in parallel with them. Kropotkin understands anarchist communism as the left wing of the socialist movement, which is evident, among other things, in his rejection of the social democratic demand for a “right to work.” In contrast, the “right to prosperity” means
“the possibility of living as a human being and raising children so that they become equal members of a society better than our own, whereas the ‘right to work’ means the right to remain a wage slave forever, a workhorse dominated and exploited by tomorrow’s bourgeois. The right to prosperity has the social revolution as its goal; the “right to work” implies, at best, an industrial prison [= “dungeon”]” (Kropotkin 1973: 93f., note: J.E.).
In contrast to Marx, Kropotkin criticizes the production of surplus value as such (ibid.: 165). As mentioned, he assumes the existence of anarchist and communist conditions and institutions that exist in parallel to the dominant structures of political and economic rule (ibid.: 196). Those who practice them would come together in numerous voluntary associations. As examples, he cites the international railroad system, inland waterway transport, maritime rescue, and the Red Cross; even in the army, he argues, military strength lies primarily in the (voluntary) spread of militarism throughout society, as evidenced by the Germans’ will to fight (ibid.: 197–211). Taking this line of thought further, Graeber writes that there is no social totality (Graeber 2012e: 98f.) . Rather, the impression that state capitalism is total stems from the alienation that the system of domination produces as a key effect (Graeber 2009: 526f. ). In contrast, there are other conceptions that are subsumed by the dominant logics—such as the rational-choice logic of markets (Graeber 2012d: 63f). This seems to be the main reason why Graeber focuses on other existing and possible relations of equal exchange (Graeber 2014: 74).
The nation-state, capitalism, patriarchy, and the domination of nature are therefore not necessary prerequisites for developing a society according to the ideas of anarchist communists. This assumption has significant implications for organization and is already advocated by Kropotkin, who—as mentioned—writes of thousands of associations in many countries that functioned according to the anarchist principles of mutual aid, self-organization, and consensus-building. Thus, according to Graeber, “we” are all “already communists when working on a common project, all already anarchists when we solve problems without recourse to lawyers or the police, all revolutionaries when we create something genuinely new” (Graeber 2012b: 38). Furthermore, he argues that “we all” have the potential to act revolutionarily to some degree, and that this manifests itself in everyday forms of expression, lifestyles, and modes of organization that arise from “spaces in between” based on our own experiences in self-organized structures and democratic processes (Graeber 2007e: 367). Bookchin develops the argument for the parallel existence of desirable social conditions from his engagement with Marxism and criticizes, for example, the thesis of “embryonic development” as a mystified understanding of history that curtails spontaneity (Bookchin 1990: 131).
Anarchism’s specific perspective on social relations is reflected in its concepts of organization. Milstein argues that non-hierarchical organizations prove that they are capable of fulfilling the needs and desires of most people. The principles of self-determination, self-management, and self-organization date back to the early anarchists (Milstein 2013: 28f.) Graeber demonstrates how, within the anti-globalization movement, the rejection of neoliberalism led to references to—or the rediscovery of—democratic forms outside, alongside, and in opposition to the state (Graeber 2007e: 362f.).[6] In contrast, emancipatory social movements could form as a counter-power or anti-power, given that various social institutions already stand in opposition to the state and capital, alternative spheres exist, and the directly oppressed are empowering themselves (Graeber 2004: 24).[7] The idea that society can be shaped by autonomous actors only gained historical traction through the experiences of revolutions (Graeber 2007d: 316), for which mass mobilization, mass mobilization, experimental non-hierarchical institutions, the revitalization of the imagination, new forms of decision-making, and the experience of spontaneous uprising (Graeber 2012c: 63). This is only emancipatory when marginalized groups can raise their voices (Graeber 2007e: 329ff.) . Only when diverse and contradictory perspectives are integrated into a common (autonomous) project and mobilized for collective action can the logic of domination be broken (Graeber 2009f: 519). Alternatives to structures and logics of domination must therefore be experienced through self-organized projects and interventionist actions (Graeber 2009b: 210). However, the attainment of autonomy through social movements is not a foregone conclusion (see Bookchin 1990: 123). [8]
In this sense, Most already argues in favor of anarchy by emphasizing that the idea of “rule by the people” is a contradiction in terms (Most 2006Ac: 80) . Consequently, he goes on to point out that anarchism is the “most perfect form of socialism,” insofar as the “fraternity of all” can be realized not through the subjugation of individuals, but only through their voluntary association (ibid.: 82f.) . He maintains this position later as well, describing popular sovereignty as “nonsense” in and of itself, in which the state retains an omnipotent role and minorities are oppressed, while socialism cannot be introduced through (bourgeois-parliamentary) democracy (Most 2006Bu: 163–167). Through this line of reasoning, he further arrives at the anti-political conclusion that the “organization of human society” will “no longer be of a political character at all, but will unfold in a thousandfold variety depending on individual and communal life purposes. In this, anarchy will be present — not chaos, but a harmonious, unforced interplay of forces and perceptions of need [...]” (Ibid.: 167). According to this, the anarchist-communist strategy opposes hierarchical parties and parliamentary democracy (Most 2006Bl: 109ff.).[9] Based on his personal experience, the anti-political impulse runs like a common thread through Most’s writings. Thus, it would seem that “apart from the anarchist wing [...] a kind of epidemic mental illness has been rampant throughout the entire labor movement in all countries for quite some time—and currently more than ever” (Most 2006Bi: 74), because political action is viewed as a “means of salvation” that merely aims at social-democratic rule and cannot fundamentally change the structures of power (ibid.: 75). In this context, elections would hinder the social revolution; parties are structurally conservative and de-radicalizing, giving rise to new bureaucracies; and ultimately, even “there will be no more talk whatsoever of reforms of any kind, let alone socialism [...] under any circumstances. The workers who fall for this swindle will serve as pawns for various political charlatans” (ibid.: 79). However, the autonomy of the proletariat cannot come about on its own. That is why anarchists must, the “more stubborn the workers behave, [they] must warn them with all the greater zeal [...] against the senseless actions they have in mind, [...] [...] We must enlighten the people and not mislead them: we must revolutionize them and not reinforce their superstition in reforms achieved through elections” (ibid.).
Malatesta, who is also concerned with the autonomy of the socialist and labor movements, holds—some 20 years later—a different understanding of politics than Most. In his examination of syndicalism, which, as a mass movement, tends to blur or even negate differences in favor of (the fiction of) a unified class standpoint, he states:
“[Its] programmatic inconsistency is reflected in the history of workers’ organizations with a syndicalist tendency: sooner or later, a situation arises in which one must move from the purely union-based terrain to political struggle in the true sense, and then the divergence and incompatibility between reformists and revolutionaries, parliamentarians and anti-parliamentarians, socialists and anarchists—who had come together under the guise of supposed trade-union neutrality—come to light. And then the internal struggles and splits begin” (Malatesta 2014d: 143f.).
Based on this assumption, he recommends that anarchists should utilize, support, and influence workers’ organizations, but not identify with them—undoubtedly in order to preserve their own autonomy and extend it more broadly (ibid. ). This echoes the founding motto of the First International: “The emancipation of the working class must be the work of the working class itself.” Malatesta assumes that the proletariat’s growing awareness of its social situation will lead it to unite without the need for parties (Malatesta 2014c: 126). For him, this in no way contradicts the idea that the proletariat need to be guided and, in a thoroughly political sense, agitated and organized—a point he states quite openly (Malatesta 2014d: 147). Most shares this view and writes that anarchists are not content to “swim in the traditional trade union currents, but strive [...] to transform trade unionists into class-conscious rebels against the power of capital” (Most 2006Bh: 70). He therefore recommends that, when words and writing fall short, one should resort to “propaganda by deed” as opposed to the “at best naive, childish politicians” who generate false hopes (ibid.: 71). Most and Malatesta thus each advocate for the autonomy of social movements. Their paradigmatically formulated understandings of politics diverge because Malatesta sees himself primarily as a strategic organizer, while Most sees himself primarily in the role of a sarcastic agitator.
The 1897 text *The Organization* was motivated by the need to clarify the organizational question within the divided anarchist camp. According to Malatesta, it is disastrous for the anti-authoritarian reflex to be directed against society as a whole. It is a “fundamental error” of the anti-organizationalists to equate organization with authority (Malatesta 2014a: 51f.). On the contrary, anarchy means “organized society without authority, if by authority one understands the power (authority) to impose one’s will on others, and not merely the inevitable and useful fact that the person who understands and can carry out a task better finds it easier to convince others of his opinion, and that in this particular matter he shows the way to those who are less capable than he is” (ibid.: 53) . The rejection of all organization would condemn the anarchist movement to powerlessness, would be inefficient, and would lead to inaction (ibid.: 55). By “anarchist party,” he means “the collective of those who wish to contribute to the realization of anarchy and who therefore need a clear goal to strive for and a viable path to follow” (Ibid.: 57), through which authority can be overcome precisely because it makes collective struggle possible (Ibid.: 59). This means pursuing common goals and assuming common obligations. The movement would not face greater repression due to formal organizations; on the contrary, it would be more vulnerable to repression if it were fragmented (Ibid.: 60). Furthermore, Malatesta opposes the fetishization and bureaucratization of organizations, for it is “natural that the organization takes on the forms that circumstances suggest and impose. The most important thing is not so much the formal organization as the spirit of the organization” (ibid.: 61). Nevertheless, he rejects a single, unified organization for all (Malatesta 2014i), but at the same time encourages a binding alliance of groups that are connected to one another (Malatesta 2014a: 62), seeing the goal in a “united proletarian front” (Malatesta 2014b: 123). In doing so, he takes a stand against authoritarian communist organizations, which stifle all autonomy, enforce discipline, foster passive obedience, and thus embody the very thing they claim to strive for. Furthermore, syndicalists would evade the question of how to deal with the state, its violence, and the inevitability of confrontation with it (ibid.: 140ff.). Despite the danger of conformity, deviation, and corruption, it is important to join workers’ organizations in order to maintain contact with the masses while also sustaining independent anarchist groups (Malatesta 2014d: 147ff.).
In a different historical context, Bookchin also advocates for participation in social movements, while at the same time championing their autonomy. In his view, the “long march through the institutions” proclaimed by Rudi Dutschke therefore meant “ultimately meant little more than adapting to existing institutions without bothering to develop new ones, and led to the loss of thousands to those very institutions” (Bookchin 1990: 156). In this context, it is clear to him that a new decentralized, autonomous, grassroots-democratic, and communal politics must be developed (ibid.: 190). The anarchist basic assumption of the parallelism of social relations and the plea for the autonomy of social movements—which is expressed both in organizational debates and in the understanding of politics—already embody the vision that guides communist anarchists: The “anarchist vision of decentralized communities, which are united in free confederations and networks for the coordination of regional communities places the traditional ideals of participatory democracy in a modern, radical context” (Bookchin 1990: 180f.). Referring to the Greek polis, Bookchin argues that if “we do not wish to attempt [...] to revive the myth of the proletarian uprising [...], then we will be compelled to create counter-institutions that resist the power of the nation-state” (ibid.: 183). For Milstein, too, network-like, horizontal structures represent a counterforce, which requires the active participation of numerous people, who thereby also give rise to alternative ways of life (Milstein 2013: 53) . Therefore, alternative cultures and milieus within a “radical scene” are significant because, despite their contradictions and shortcomings, they can minimize alienation and enable activists to take action (Graeber 2009c: 240). Referring not to scene circles but to a self-organized public sphere, Bookchin speaks analogously of a
“reempowerment in its fullest personal and public sense, not as a psychic experience in a specious and reductionist form of psychological ‘energetics’ that is fixated on one’s own ‘vibes’ and ‘space.’ [...] But public space, like inner space, becomes mere empty space when it is not structured, articulated, and given substance. It must be provided with institutional form, no less so than our highly integrated personal bodies, which cannot exist without structure.” (Bookchin 1982: 336).
For Graeber, the vision or “ideology” of “New Anarchism”—and thus also its theory of organization—emerges from the practices and principles embodied in social movements. His “new forms of organization [...] are ways of articulating a diversity of perspectives; they are its ideology” (Graeber 2007d: 323), though insurrectionary elements are needed to liberate the imagination and give the oppressed a voice. In this regard, he argues, revolutionary ideas, organizations, and practices today draw significantly on anarchism worldwide (ibid.: 322). Contrary to the widespread negative self-perception and nihilism, Graeber provocatively writes: “The biggest problem facing direct action movements is that we don’t know how to handle victory ” (Graeber 2012a: 11). In doing so, he shifts the focus with the intention of achieving a self-determined, socially revolutionary orientation that is possible today, even if ultimate goals are not achieved (ibid.: 19). Drawing on his analysis of the practices and language of actors in social movements, Graeber does not specify concrete goals for a social revolution. For example, he does not identify the desired form of society as libertarian socialism, nor does he view the destruction of capitalism as the primary, explicit goal of social movements—although he acknowledges that this is often the underlying motivation for their activism (ibid.: 26). In any case, the aim would be to develop a different kind of social freedom and to overcome bourgeois individualism (Graeber 2009f: 531). This would also give rise to a different relationship among people—one that is less cynical and, in the true sense of the word, social, without being altruistic (Graeber 2012d: 69ff.).
Milstein, too, views the realization of a different kind of freedom as an essential element—or a symbol—of anarchist aspirations (Milstein 2013: 9ff.). Unlike Graeber, however, she sees anarchism as embodying a clearer vision. Guidance toward this is provided by an “ethical compass,” which would be more helpful than, for example, a sketch of a desirable future form of society, since the focus is on the practical implementation of one’s own ethics, which should therefore not be pitted against pragmatism (ibid.: 57ff.). This serves to establish a shared emancipatory vision against the state and private property, in favor of self-organization and mutual aid (ibid.: 12), through which different relationships and experiences become possible (ibid.: 47f.). This vision is grounded in the utopian element that constitutes the distinctive feature of anarchism (ibid.: 79ff.), with prefigurative politics and self-organization serving as the key concepts for realizing it (ibid.: 82–90). Undoubtedly, an emphatic emphasis on the ethical, in turn, has anti-political implications. For Milstein, these include the public discussion of contradictions, a self-critical attitude, and the elaboration of ethical values such as “freedom and liberation,” “equality of the unequal,” “of all, for all,” “mutual aid,” “ecology,” “voluntary association and responsibility,” “joy and spontaneity,” and “diversity and unity” (ibid.: 59–77).

3.3.3 Self-Organization of the Libertarian-Socialist Social Form

The social revolution aims to bring about a comprehensive transformation of property relations. As already mentioned, Kropotkin emphasizes that the expropriation and socialization of the means of production are both an essential task and a prerequisite for the social revolutionization of society as a whole. In this process, the distribution of goods is to be carried out by the population (through decentralized, federative council structures) (Kropotkin 1973: 87–92, 107–119) . As Most notes, this also leads to the self-administration of all social institutions—such as schools, cultural institutions, libraries, and public transportation—which in turn brings about a transformation of people (Most 2006, vol. 40). Milstein sums up the core message as follows: Capitalism as a whole
“the problem, because it is always oriented toward totality. Therefore, anarchists oppose the totality of capitalist values and structures as a hegemony—or rather, all the components that constitute capitalism as a system: corporations, banks, private property, the pursuit of profit, bosses, wage labor, alienation, commodification, etc. [...] When people organize themselves to satisfy their needs, abundance is utilized, not exchanged; products are collectivized and made available to all” (Milstein 2013: 38f.).
Kropotkin argues against interim solutions and in favor of pushing socialization as far as possible, precisely to prevent a reaction (Kropotkin 1973: 114f.). Thus, expropriation
“must encompass everything that enables anyone [...] to appropriate the fruits of others’ labor. The formula is simple and clear. We do not want to tear everyone’s paletot [= suit] from their bodies; but we want to give back to the workers everything that in any way enables their exploitation, and we will do our utmost to ensure that no one lacks anything, so that there is not a single person left who is forced to sell the labor of their hands in order for themselves and their children to survive.” (Ibid.: 114, note: J.E.).
In terms that are vivid and accessible to workers, Most illustrates the practical implementation of what are actually demanding and complex processes:
“First, you cut off steam and electricity, so to speak, right under the noses of that parasitic, slovenly, and predatory rabble; then you strike them on the head with their own clubs. Finally, you simply resume work, but not for the benefit of the former oppressors, but for the benefit and welfare of all—not for wages, but for the sake of the right to free enjoyment. Everything else, in general as well as in particular—needs, experience, competition, and so on—brings more and more to light day by day, all on its own. That is the entire library of the social revolution in a nutshell” (Most 2006Bn: 123).
Malatesta focuses more on the question of socialization, though, like other anarchist communists, he makes no plans as to exactly what this should look like. For this question, he argues, can only be meaningfully posed during the actual process of expropriation (Malatesta 2014c: 126) . At the same time, Malatesta advocates a pragmatic and “gradualist” approach. Thus, “universal communism—that is, a single community of all people—[. ...] a goal, an ideal toward which we must strive, but which certainly cannot yet take the form of a concrete economic organization. This, of course, applies only to our time and probably for some time after us: future generations will think about that distant time” (Malatesta 2014j: 221). We must therefore take as our starting point the communities that exist today and their economic and political relationships in order to bring about fundamental changes. This also applies to overcoming international inequalities and exploitative conditions (Kropotkin 1973: 162). Beyond economic and political domination, attention must also be directed toward the emancipation of women as an essential component of the social revolution. In this regard, however, Kropotkin does not criticize the role assigned to women by society, but rather outlines primarily technical and organizational proposals concerning the mechanization of housework and the collectivization of reproductive labor (Ibid.: 195ff.). To the anarchist communists, the perspective—or the orientation mentioned above—seems far more important than the precise implementation. Through the social revolution, Kropotkin seeks to abolish deprivation and advocates for a good life for all, viewing the opportunities for the development of individuality as a hallmark of its progress (ibid.: 170).
An important point in the argument regarding the social revolution lies in the perception and/or assertion of its inevitability (Most 2006Ac: 86). Nevertheless, Most further describes the social revolution as a humane and logical consequence of the current social condition, having nothing to do with a thirst for bloodshed (Most 2006Bf: 56–60) .[10] Graeber, too, sees good reasons to assume a future collapse of capitalism due to the unsustainable expansion of economically absurd apparatuses such as the military, police, prison system, intelligence agencies, security firms, and propaganda producers (Graeber 2011: 381). Therefore, he argues, it is reasonable to explore alternatives to capitalism, since wages have long been stagnant and capitalism cannot guarantee relative prosperity for all (ibid.: 374f.). Malatesta, too, seems to draw his insights more from observation and direct engagement with actors in social movements than from secondary interpretations. Within the workers’ association,
“the idea of social revolution takes shape, and all those who, for material or ideological reasons, are interested in maintaining or changing present-day society, set to work; some to curb the movement’s momentum through more or less illusory concessions and all manner of deceptions or acts of violence, others to drive the movement to its ultimate conclusion and make it a tool for realizing their own ideals. “Now, nothing happens in the collective life of society without the participation or at least the consent of the organized masses” (Malatesta 2014d: 139).
From this, he concludes that anarchists should join workers’ organizations, introduce direct actions into them, but not lead them (Malatesta 2014d: 140). The social-revolutionary perspective is elaborated by distinguishing it from political revolution, political reform, and social evolution (→ 5) . With regard to political revolution, Most rails that “those romantics must be targeted far more sharply—those who believe the proletarian revolution must unfold like the bourgeois uprising. When these people think of revolution, they still envision nothing more than barricades, street battles, welfare committees, revolutionary tribunals, and the establishment of new institutions by decree—all according to the old template” (Most 2006Bd: 35). Accordingly, the goal of the revolution would be to break with the state (Most 2006Ac: 92) and to reject reforms (Most 2006Ae: 159). Malatesta takes a very similar view:
“While the anarchists know and say what they want—namely, the destruction of the state and the free organization of society on the basis of economic equality—the reformists find themselves in contradiction with themselves, since they call themselves socialists while, in practice, they aim to humanize the capitalist system and thereby perpetuate it, thus negating socialism, which above all means the abolition of the division of people into proletarians and property owners” (Malatesta 2014c: 127) .
He does not want “better-fed slaves,” but rather a society free of domination, in which the proletariat is kept in its place by reforms if it does not fight against the fundamental antagonism. Nevertheless, demands for higher wages and better working conditions are justified; these must be enforced through independent action rather than granted (Ibid.: 128). Reforms are desirable only if they are not negotiated with the ruling class—thereby legitimizing their government—but rather if they must be introduced through the pressure of social struggles (Ibid.: 129). In this regard, anarchists have “faith in the creative spirit of the masses” (Ibid.: 130ff.). In any case, a dictatorship of the proletariat is a contradiction in terms (ibid.: 135).
Because both political revolutions and reforms are rejected, a tension arises between efforts to overturn the social structure and immediate, concrete changes. This tension is also reflected in workers’ organizations, which initially function primarily as interest groups and thus have a limited scope (Malatesta 2014d: 143ff.). This leads Malatesta to the realization that revolutionary methods are not ends in themselves, but should serve to bring about tangible, gradual improvements in people’s living conditions (ibid.: 144). Equally constructive is his approach when he asks his own comrades: Destruction —and what comes next?” Accordingly, in the course of the social revolution, one must think about the reorganization of society; indeed, social revolution consists precisely in this. He thus aims to replace all social institutions and functions (Malatesta 2014h: 196ff.). While the workers “destroy the old, [...] [through] reorganization [...] a more humane, just society, one more open to future progress for all, will emerge; or else the ‘leaders’ will think of it, and then we will have a new government that will do what all governments have always done [...]” (ibid.: 199).
Similarly, Milstein argues that anarchism, as a “revolutionary political philosophy” aimed at realizing individual and collective freedom, often leads in practice to “advocating for ‘improvements’ or ‘reforms’—but only those that imply revolutionary demands. It is not easy to pursue a ‘revolutionary politics of reform.’ It is not easy to find the right balance, especially when the goal seems far away” (Milstein 2013: 36). Milstein understands this “revolutionary reformism” in political terms, linking it to self-organization and anarchist principles (ibid.: 41). Bookchin also advocates this kind of revolutionary reformism, emphasizing—using the ecological issue as an example—that piecemeal reforms cannot replace radical and autonomous social movements (Bookchin 1990: 158). Over time, the understanding of revolution as represented in classical anarchism has undergone changes. In Bookchin’s view, revolutionary approaches were revitalized during the era of the New Left, primarily through engagement with ecological and feminist issues, which included directly democratic communities (Bookchin 1990: 150–156). With his concept of grassroots libertarian communalism, Bookchin resolved the (anti-)political tension by siding with politics. This is also evident in his rejection of what he termed “lifestyle anarchism,” which he simplistically contrasts with “social anarchism” (Bookchin 1995). According to him,
„reformism and parliamentarism [...] at least still possess a concrete tangibility that raises serious questions of political theory and a sense of social orientation. The most recent trend within the environmental movement, on the other hand, is completely ethereal and as elusive as air. Roughly speaking, it consists of attempts to transform ecology into a religion [...]. In this theistic context, political activity and social engagement tend to shift from activism toward a wait-and-see attitude and from social organizing toward privatized self-help groups” (Bookchin 1990: 160f.).
The understanding of social revolution continues to undergo changes. Furthermore, within the anarchist scene, it has been increasingly supplanted by insurrectionary tendencies since around the early 1990s—at least in those currents that sought greater confrontation with the dominant order as a whole, in contrast to the focus of decidedly nonviolent or anarch@ syndicalist groups. Whether the erosion of all meta-narratives truly had as fundamental an effect as postmodern theorists assumed remains an open question. This aspect is also reflected in Graeber’s thinking when he argues, for example, that there can no longer be clear breaks in history (Graeber 2012a: 29) . Consequently, political struggles might no longer lead to clear outcomes or might achieve only partial goals. Influenced by the Situationists, he advocates for moments of insurrection and the breaking free from imposed and restricted imaginations and hopelessness (Graeber 2012c: 57). In moments of insurrection, forces of spontaneous self-organization could be unleashed: “What revolutionaries do is to break existing frames to create new horizons of possibility, an act that then allows for a radical restructuring of the social imagination. This is perhaps the one form of action that cannot, by definition, be institutionalized” (Graeber 2012c: 61).

3.3.4 Society as an Anti-Political Point of Reference for Anarchist-Communist Groups

This account of anarchist communism highlights aspects of its anti-political orientation. Most advocates an unequivocal rejection of politics, drawing his contempt for it directly from his own experience.
Bookchin and Milstein, on the other hand, demonstrate a positive relationship to the concept of politics, though they naturally distance themselves from party politics and emphasize autonomous self-organization. Bookchin’s concept of libertarian communalism represents a proposal for a political organization of society with anarchist aspirations. Graeber essentially reflects the understanding of politics held by the radical currents of a diffuse left-wing movement. His own contribution is to emphasize the symbolic-imaginary dimension of the political (→ 2.4.1). Kropotkin and Malatesta, on the other hand, express themselves more cautiously, which is not least evidence of the fundamental discrediting of the concept of “politics” in the anarchist circles of their time. Malatesta, in particular, can be said to that in his actions he assumes the role of a prototypical (anti-)politician who operates within the contradictions of the political arena and advocates pragmatism in opposition to the dogmatism and romanticism of his comrades.
Kropotkin strives to achieve a libertarian-socialist form of society, which must also be organized politically. With regard to anarchist communism, it can be stated that society is constructed within it as an anti-political point of reference, serving as a counterpoint to (tendentially state-controlled) politics. It must be distinguished—albeit gradually and in broad strokes—from the concept of the “social,” which is more closely associated with mutualism, although the boundaries between them are fluid. In their contrast of the state and capitalism with anarchy and communism, the classical anarchist-communist authors are in complete agreement. In other words, the economic relations of domination are to be replaced by autonomous and decentralized self-administration, and the political relations of domination by voluntary and federative self-organization. Whether this is referred to as “non-domination politics” or not is secondary insofar as the substance remains the same. Nevertheless, many anarchists seem to attach importance to this distinction in order to highlight the difference from socialist systems of domination and to maintain their critique of authoritarian, hierarchical, and centralist relationships and institutions.
Beyond individualist anarchism, anarchist insurrectionism represents the most striking expression of a departure from the political sphere, as it can be understood as the negative counterpart to constructive and concretely utopian communist anarchism. Behind the associated strategic, tactical, and ethical questions, different understandings of politics—and the various consequences arising from them—come to light. When any constructive conceptions for a libertarian-socialist transformation of society, and the accompanying programmatic and strategic considerations, are rejected because they are seen as involving political participation and efforts to reestablish a new order of domination, groups with a social-revolutionary orientation face a delicate balancing act between retreating into apoliticality and taking pure negation to extremes, which tends toward dogmatism and hermetic isolation.[11]
To illustrate the continuity of anarchist-communist narratives and perspectives, one can, for example, examine Rutger Bregman’s popular science works *Utopias for Realists* (Bregman 2017) and *Basically Good: A New History of Humanity* (Bregman 2020). The first book is an unnamed adaptation of Kropotkin’s *The Conquest of Bread* (1882) and the latter is an adaptation of Kropotkin’s *Mutual Aid* (1902). Bregman, too, addresses the themes of constructing an alternative form of society understood as “realistic” and of a positive political anthropology—that is, the rejection of the Hobbesian view of human nature. Unlike Kropotkin, however, he believes in the persuasive power of “good ideas” rather than in the power of autonomous social movements. Rather than seeking to overcome class society and property relations in the anarcho-communist sense, he advocates for a well-intentioned left-liberal transformation (see Eibisch 2020d, Eibisch 2020e).

Footnotes

[1] As will become clear in the following subsection, the anti-political aspects of anarchist communism can, in essence, be understood as diametrically opposed to the anti-politics of so-called “anarcho-capitalism.” When Rothbard proclaims, “Only we wish to break with all aspects of the liberal State: with its welfare and its warfare, its monopoly privileges and its egalitarianism [... ] Only we offer technology without technocracy, growth without pollution, liberty without chaos, law without tyranny, the defense of property rights [...]” (Rothbard 1973: 402), he is thereby hinting at a comprehensive, society-wide counter-project, which is also the goal of communist anarchists. However, the latter conceive of this in terms of the abolition of private property, the overcoming of bourgeois individualism, and the establishment of a society comprehensively structured on many levels (→ 2.3.2) .

[2] In the article “(Anti-)Politics and Communist Anarchism” (Eibisch 2022a), I formulated the content of subsection 3.3 in a less academic style.

[3] Most further assumes that the nation is a “fixed idea,” likely drawing on Stirner’s thought (Most 2006Ac: 125). His text *Der Narrenturm* (Most 2006Ad) also recalls Stirner’s critique of ideology through its use of the words “spook” and “rafter” (cf. Stirner 2008: 36–52).

[4] Accordingly, it would be necessary to push back against all prejudices and, therefore, not to pursue any strategy that draws on widespread religious sentiments and ideas among the population. For instead of being able to be dismantled later, these would thereby be reinforced (Most 2006Ba: 16–19). A scathing critique of religion runs through his writings (Most 2006Bf: 62–77; cf. Most 2006Bz: 202ff. , Most 2006Ad: 125ff., Bakunin 2013: 34ff.). Most directs his criticism against false notions of elections (Most 2006Ba: 16–20) and argues that the Reichstag is not the true representation of the people and that universal suffrage is not a “lever of democracy, but rather a weapon of reaction” (Most 2006Ae: 151; cf. Most 2006Ae: 144–164).

[5] For “only when everything lives in and through us; when there are only militant and no sluggish, limp, so to speak, dead limbs on our body; when propaganda is carried out with inexhaustible patience and the tenaciousest perseverance; when all our shoulders are braced against the spokes of the world’s edge of the social revolution—only then can it gain more and more momentum ” (Most 2006Bs: 145). Interestingly, Most reflects on propaganda activities as a whole, among other things, in his thoughts on “Labor Day,” which he understands as “the day of agitation par excellence in the spirit of the social revolution”—and has quite precise ideas about how it should be used for propaganda purposes, rather than “a day of rest imposed at the workers’ expense, on which they are permitted to go for a walk with the express permission of the police” (Most 2006Bj: 92) . He also reflects on anarchist publications, their dissemination, and their propagandistic impact (Most 2006Bv: 184–188, Most 2006Bw: 189f.).

[6] Their own organizational concepts arise from resistance to the global order of domination, as exemplified by the Zapatistas, whose 1994 uprising is regarded as a milestone for more recent emancipatory social movements (Graeber 2009a: xiii–xvii) . Consensus-based, direct-democratic, and autonomous forms of organization are thus present worldwide as starting points for alternative forms of society (Graeber 2007e: 329ff.) and, for example, consensus-based decision-making is by no means extraordinary, but rather “typical of societies where there would be no way to compel a minority to agree with a majority decision; either because there is no state with a monopoly on coercive force, or because the state has no interest in or does not tend to intervene in local decision-making” (ibid.: 341). Elections, on the other hand, according to Graeber, create marginalized minorities, thereby causing humiliation and hatred and destroying the community. Instead, we must see ourselves as capable agents and constitute ourselves as such in order to take action: “To begin to free ourselves, the first thing we need to do is to see ourselves again as historical actors, as people who can make a difference in the course of world events. This is exactly what the militarization of history is trying to take away” (Graeber 2011: 383). By “militarization of history,” Graeber means, in this context, the authoritarian political enforcement of neoliberal capitalism, which, through bureaucratic apparatuses, creates a sense of hopelessness regarding alternative futures (ibid.: 382).

[7] Slavoj Žižek, on the other hand, assesses the potential of emancipatory social movements quite differently. He regards the activism cultivated within these movements as illusory or, in a sense, as part of the dominant order of power. He writes: “If one responds to a call to action today, this action does not take place in a vacuum, but within the hegemonic ideological coordination [...]. Nevertheless, it is precisely this form of activity that serves as a perfect example of interpassivity—of doing certain things not to achieve something, but to prevent anything from actually happening, to prevent anything fundamental from changing” (Žižek 2002: 18f.).

[8] Bookchin noted as early as 20 years before Graeber that there was “the danger that the revolutionary project might lose its identity, its capacity for self-definition, and its sense of direction.” Today we are not only witnessing a loss of revolutionary acumen, but also experiencing an inability to define what is really meant by the term ‘revolutionary change’ and by concepts such as ‘capitalism’“ (Bookchin 1990: 123). Drawing on the New Left, which emerged in the early 1960s, he reflects on the recurring dynamic between the expansion of autonomy and the containment of social movements, noting that the “concept of ‘participatory democracy’ to describe grassroots control over all aspects of life—not just political ones—became very fashionable. [... The] New Left, and to a considerable extent the counterculture that emerged alongside it, had a strong anti-parliamentary orientation that often bordered on total anarchism” (ibid.: 141).

[9] Most thus takes issue with Marxism, which he describes as a quasi-religious doctrine; he regards it as “unscientific ” and outdated, declares the application of scientific thinking to history to be inadmissible, and, above all, criticizes the theory of impoverishment—widespread in his time—which he argues leads to fatalism and serves to contain an autonomous labor movement (Most 2006Bk: 104–107). The Social Democrats, he argues, are “trapped in prejudice” (Most 2006Bm: 209–216). “In the ‘century in which we live,’ are the views heard in the circles of the organized proletariat dogmas; are the parties and corporations of the working class churches? If that is the case, then of course we must feel like ‘heretics’ [...]” (Most 2006At: 165).

[10] One might ask, then, why he so vehemently insists on the necessity of a violent overthrow in opposition to those he calls “noble anarchists” (Most 2006Bp: 131–134). One might speculate that desire is the father of thought when Most believes that the concentration of capital in large corporations (“trustism”)—and thus the intensification of class antagonism—is a lever for social revolution (Most 2006Bo: 127–130)—a revolution that is by no means hindered by the emergence of a new middle class but, on the contrary, is rather promoted and spurred on to “fighting spirit” (Most 2006Bq: 135ff.). He is wrong on both counts and evidently clings to conventional models that must be considered outdated at this point. Even if it does not apply in this case, his (vulgar-Marxist) derivation of the necessity of social revolution from the mode of production and social structure is interesting.

[11] Giuseppe Ciancabilla attempts to master this balancing act; unlike most other individualist anarchists and insurrectionists, he does not reject political struggle but, on the contrary, addresses it in its only possible form: as a consistent revolutionary struggle. In doing so, he opposes the principle of authority in any form under the conditions of an authoritarian society. By “politics,” he means the struggle against government and the state (Ciancabilla 1899).

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Silicon Valley routinely promises a sparkling utopia where artificial intelligence will cure complex diseases, optimize global labor, and render the very concept of money obsolete. Yet behind the polished keynotes and corporate public relations, a far more unsettling reality is taking shape. A small handful of ultra-wealthy tech oligarchs, the heads of Meta, Google, OpenAI, Anthropic, and xAI, are making unilateral decisions about the collective future of humanity, operating entirely outside democratic oversight or public accountability.

Author Law and Ethics in Tech Submitted by rezgar2 on November 1, 2026 The Dark Side of the “Machine God”: 5 Unsettling Truths About Big Tech’s AI Obsession

Silicon Valley routinely promises a sparkling utopia where artificial intelligence will cure complex diseases, optimize global labor, and render the very concept of money obsolete. Yet behind the polished keynotes and corporate public relations, a far more unsettling reality is taking shape. A small handful of ultra-wealthy tech oligarchs, the heads of Meta, Google, OpenAI, Anthropic, and xAI, are making unilateral decisions about the collective future of humanity, operating entirely outside democratic oversight or public accountability.

This concentration of power exposes a jarring central paradox: the exact same tech CEOs who claim AI will solve humanity’s greatest challenges simultaneously warn that the technology could trigger civilizational extinction, openly describing their pursuit as “summoning the demon.” Rather than pausing development, these executives have accelerated an apocalyptic arms race to build ultra-powerful systems, framing themselves as indispensable guardians of human survival.

To understand where artificial intelligence is truly taking society, we must look past corporate marketing and examine the underlying worldviews, historical lineages, and material harms driving the tech elite. Moving beyond superficial consumer hype reveals how a toxic mix of fringe ideologies, extractive labor practices, and authoritarian state alliances is steering Silicon Valley toward what critical theorists and legal scholars call “techno-fascism.”

Takeaway #1: The “TESCREAL” Cult and the Race to Build a “Machine God”

To make sense of Silicon Valley’s relentless drive toward Artificial General Intelligence (AGI) and Artificial Superintelligence (ASI), one must understand the bizarre ideological framework shaping its leaders. Coined by philosopher Emile Torres and computer scientist Timnit Gebru, the acronym TESCREAL encapsulates a bundle of tightly interwoven worldviews: Transhumanism, Extropianism, Singularitarianism, Cosmism, Rationalism, Effective Altruism, and Longtermism.

Dr. Emile Torres highlights a critical historical truth at the heart of this ideology: transhumanism is fundamentally “eugenics on steroids.” Unlike nineteenth-century eugenics, which sought merely to optimize the existing human species through selective breeding, transhumanism seeks to use radical technology to completely replace and transcend humanity, engineering an entirely new posthuman species. Within Silicon Valley AI circles, this hypothetical superintelligence is explicitly referred to as a “Machine God.” Tech CEOs effectively act as high priests, competing to bring an all-knowing digital deity into physical existence.

This radical ideology shapes corporate roadmaps in concrete, disturbing ways:

Sam Altman (OpenAI): In a blog post titled “The Merge,” Altman argued that AI surpassing human intellect is inevitable, framing un-merged human beings as a temporary “biological bootloader” for digital intelligence that will ultimately fade into an evolutionary side-branch. Altman notably paid $10,000 to join a brain-uploading waitlist with Nectome and co-founded a brain-computer interface venture to facilitate digital integration.

Ray Kurzweil & Demis Hassabis (DeepMind): Representing Extropianism and Singularitarianism, Kurzweil champions the doctrine of living long enough to achieve digital immortality, targeting a self-improving “singularity” by 2032. Hassabis, DeepMind’s co-founder, operates under a similar singularitarian impulse to engineer self-evolving intellect.

Eliezer Yudkowsky (Rationalism): A foundational figure in modern rationalist thought who famously posited a utilitarian moral calculation arguing that forcing a single person to endure 50 years of relentless torture is ethically preferable to an unfathomable number of people experiencing the mild inconvenience of a speck of dust in their eye.

Elon Musk (xAI/SpaceX): Demonstrating classic Longtermism, Musk explicitly cites the expansion of the Sun billions of years in the future to justify prioritizing multi-planetary space colonization over addressing immediate, real-world human suffering on Earth today.

”All of these ideologies emerged out of modern transhumanism… an ideology according to which we should develop advanced technologies so that we can radically re-engineer the human organism and ultimately create a new posthuman species… In and around Silicon Valley, extremely advanced AI, so-called superintelligence, is even called the ‘Machine God.’ Which means these Big Tech CEOs, racing to release ever more powerful AI, are effectively casting themselves as priests who bring the Machine God’s power to the world.” — Dr. Emile Torres, Philosopher and Historian

Ultimately, the TESCREAL moral math reduces living human beings to disposable statistical noise. By prioritizing hypothetical trillions of digital beings living in far-future galactic utopias, Silicon Valley executives grant themselves ethical permission to ignore present-day environmental destruction, global labor exploitation, and systemic social destabilization.

Takeaway #2: AI’s Hidden DNA: How Mathematical Sorting Mirrors Nineteenth-Century Eugenics

While modern machine learning is marketed as objective, hyper-advanced science, its core mathematical architecture is directly inherited from 19th-century eugenics. The foundational statistical tools of modern AI, logistic regression, statistical correlation, and neural network pattern classification, were designed by early British statisticians Francis Galton and Karl Pearson. Both were explicit eugenicists who invented these mathematical formulas specifically to measure, rank, and classify human populations to prove that white, wealthy elites were genetically superior.

This mathematical heritage is deeply intertwined with the institutional birth of Silicon Valley itself:

The Palo Alto System: Railroad tycoon Leland Stanford established a horse-breeding facility in Palo Alto, devising rigorous sprint training for foals to optimize racehorse traits, a logic of biological optimization that established the region’s cultural template.

Academic Sterilization: Stanford University’s first president, taxonomist David Starr Jordan (author of Why Fish Don’t Exist), applied Stanford’s horse-breeding logic to human populations, aggressively advocating for state-enforced sterilization of individuals deemed socially or biologically “inferior.”

The IQ Test: Stanford psychologist Lewis Terman reworked a French educational diagnostic tool to create the Stanford-Binet IQ test, explicitly designed to rank human value early in life and justify preventing low-scoring populations from reproducing.

Transistor Pioneers & Eugenics: William Shockley, whose Nobel Prize-winning transistor research birthed Silicon Valley’s hardware industry, spent his later life asserting that Black people were genetically inferior in intelligence. California ultimately carried out approximately 20,000 forced sterilizations — nearly a third of the U.S. total.

Modern artificial intelligence does not “think” or possess conscious understanding; it aggregates massive datasets to find statistical correlations, classify inputs, and rank outputs. Because machine learning inherits historical human data, it inherently formalizes and amplifies legacy societal prejudices under the cover of mathematical neutrality.

”The story of eugenics has always been one that says: yes, you people who have decided that you’re better than everyone else, well, you’re right. And we can find that in science, and therefore it is somehow just… The basic idea of neural networks is very much about classifying and ranking… The very idea that you can create a technology with superior intelligence already carries the assumption that not only is the machine more intelligent, but that certain people are more intelligent and certain others less so.” — Dr. Dan McQuillan and Professor Dave Karpf

When automated recruitment systems, credit-scoring engines, or predictive welfare screening tools deploy machine learning to sort human beings, they operate as high-tech engines of eugenic sorting. As Meta’s former Vice President of Civil Rights Roy Austin noted, when Amazon deployed an automated hiring algorithm trained on historical employee profiles, the system systematically filtered out female applicants. Because the training data reflected a historically white, male benchmark, the algorithm calculated that women were inherently less qualified — a classic demonstration of automated discrimination (“garbage in, garbage out”).

Takeaway #3: The “Extractive” Myth: AI Relies on Mass Intellectual Property Theft and Exploited Labor

Silicon Valley presents generative AI as a clean, weightless, digital miracle. In reality, as Microsoft Research scholar Kate Crawford notes in Atlas of AI, tech conglomerates rely on a deeply extractive industry model that operates like historic colonialism, framing public data, human artistic creation, and natural resources as unowned entities waiting to be extracted for corporate profit.

This extraction operates across three distinct supply chains:

Mass Intellectual Property Theft: AI corporations harvest copyrighted literature, artistic portfolios, and private online tracking data across the web without consent or compensation. Anthropic, founded by Dario Amodei (a primary architect of AI “scaling laws”), paid out $1.5 billion in legal damages after illegally pirating copyrighted books to train its models. Anthropic’s data acquisition drive even involved purchasing 166 tons of physical Korean-language books to feed its algorithms, drawing fierce condemnation from Booker Prize-winning author Arundhati Roy and international creators.

Exploited Global Task Labor: The hidden engine of machine learning is not autonomous code, but massive manual human labor. Companies like Scale AI, founded by Alexandr Wang, who became a billionaire at 24 before Meta poured roughly $14 billion into his firm, rely on armies of low-wage workers in the Philippines, Kenya, and Venezuela. Paid pennies per task to label data and filter out horrific, traumatic content (“gluing eyes on dolls”), these workers suffer rampant wage theft and severe psychological trauma without basic labor protections.

Ecological Drain and Local Inequality: Training massive foundation models requires intensive mineral extraction for specialized hardware and drains immense amounts of electricity and local water to cool data centers, driving up utility bills for surrounding communities. Meanwhile, the staggering wealth concentrated at the top of Silicon Valley contrasts sharply with local service workers, many of whom are forced to live in cars, parking lots, or overcrowded apartments while working multiple jobs.

Generative AI is not an immaculate cloud of pure intelligence; it is an extractive machine that bleeds the planet’s ecosystems and human labor force dry to satisfy corporate scaling laws.

Takeaway #4: The Rise of Techno-Fascism: Big Tech’s Marriage to Military Power and the Surveillance State

Big Tech has largely abandoned its historical posturing as a neutral, liberal political force. Instead, major tech corporations are actively forging a strategic alliance with far-right political movements, military apparatuses, and domestic surveillance agencies, a structural convergence known as Techno-Fascism.

Techno-fascism represents the explicit alliance between monopoly digital capital (led by figures like Peter Thiel, Alex Karp, Elon Musk, and Sam Altman) and nationalist state power. Rather than relying solely on traditional physical coercion, this regime enforces political control through automated mass surveillance, data integration, predictive profiling, and algorithmic discipline.

Defense contractor Palantir, co-founded by Peter Thiel and led by CEO Alex Karp, exemplifies this trajectory. In April 2026, Palantir released a chilling 22-point manifesto summarizing Karp’s book The Technological Republic. Analyzed by researcher Rezgar Akrawi, the document explicitly outlines the theoretical foundation of digital fascism:

Point 1: Asserts that the Silicon Valley engineering elite has a “moral duty” to serve the state’s war machine, converting individual conscience into corporate military capital.

Point 5: Deploys deterministic logic to eliminate moral debate, declaring that “the question is not whether AI weapons will be built; the question is who will build them.”

Point 6: Demands the reinstatement of mandatory military conscription, institutionalizing state coercion in service of geopolitical conflict.

Point 21: Promotes explicit civilizational racism, asserting that “some cultures have produced vital advances while others remain dysfunctional and regressive”, a high-tech revival of the colonial “white man’s burden” used to justify domination.

Palantir translates this ideology into real-world surveillance and military infrastructure:

Mass Deportation Systems: Palantir secured a $29.8 million contract with U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) to power its Immigration Lifecycle Operating System (ImmigrationOS) and Investigative Case Management system. Palantir also developed the ELITE app, which aggregates financial records, social media activity, home addresses, and emergency room Medicaid data into profile maps to calculate probability scores for tracking and deporting immigrants.

Battlefield Targeting Platforms: Palantir, alongside Google, Amazon, and Microsoft, maintains extensive targeting and battlefield management contracts with military apparatuses, supplying real-time AI decision-making platforms deployed in war zones like Gaza.

State Surveillance Integration: Palantir, SpaceX, and Anduril are frontrunners building military projects like the “Golden Dome,” while collaborating with Musk’s Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) to create APIs linking Homeland Security systems with IRS tax data to target undocumented residents.

”Palantir is creating digital infrastructure for the multiple forms of state violence and control that contemporary authoritarianism relies on, from the software facilitating mass deportations to the AI wielded in wars against colonized people… As technology scholar Jathan Sadowski writes, ‘From inception, Palantir’s purpose has been to provide… the “ontology layer” of fascism, helping to give its ideological goals a material reality.’” — Alberto Toscano, Author of Late Fascism, quoting Jathan Sadowski

This corporate-state pipeline relies on harvesting massive citizen datasets while bypassing privacy laws. In South Korea, for example, the Justice Ministry granted private tech firms access to a state database containing facial photos of 50 million citizens and 120 million foreigners to train commercial surveillance algorithms without user consent.

Takeaway #5: Algorithmic Governmentality and the New “Banality of Evil”

In his analysis of digital authoritarianism, philosopher Mark Coeckelbergh adapts Hannah Arendt’s classic concept of the “banality of evil.” Historically, Arendt observed that systemic atrocities are rarely committed by monstrous ideologues alone, but by ordinary bureaucrats blindly executing administrative rules without empathy, moral reflection, or personal judgment.

In the modern digital age, AI automates this moral detachment. By delegating life-altering decisions to opaque algorithms, human managers, state agencies, and corporate executives insulate themselves from moral accountability, treating automated recommendations as unassailable mathematical truth. This structural dynamic shifts society away from constitutional rights and toward “algorithmic governmentality” — a system where populations are quietly sorted, disciplined, and controlled through statistical correlations.

This algorithmic control manifests across everyday life:

Workplace Tyranny: Ride-hailing drivers for platforms like Uber and Lyft report having their accounts automatically deactivated without human review when facial recognition software glitches after a driver shaves a beard or gets a haircut. Fast-food employees face similar automated firings, leaving workers with no human appeal process.

Healthcare Exploitation: Hospitals deploy Palantir’s automated staffing tools to generate chaotic schedules, forcing nurses to work six consecutive days without adequate rest while automatically penalizing staff if their schedules conflict with algorithmic targets.

Predictive Profiling: Public schools and social welfare agencies feed family backgrounds, socioeconomic statuses, and behavioral histories into predictive algorithms. These tools profile children early in life, predicting future academic failure or criminal involvement and preemptively restricting their opportunities.

To deepen this control, technofascism targets human psychology. Drawing on Erich Fromm’s Escape from Freedom, Coeckelbergh notes that modern alienation and isolation create deep psychological anxiety. Where historical authoritarianism offered mass political movements to relieve this anxiety, Big Tech offers synthetic AI intimacy. Mark Zuckerberg’s push to deploy AI chatbots to “fight the loneliness epidemic” by creating artificial friends represents a strategy of hyper-personalized emotional pacification: users submit to algorithmic direction in exchange for simulated empathy.

Furthermore, these systems suffer from severe internal dysfunctions. AI systems generate sycophantic feedback loops, telling authoritarian leaders what they want to hear, while risking complexity collapse, data blackouts, and unmanageable administrative failures.

When public figures like Elon Musk openly declare that empathy is a “fundamental weakness of Western civilization,” they summarize the governing logic of technofascism: human empathy, worker rest, and democratic protections are treated as friction that must be eradicated to maximize corporate efficiency.

Conclusion: Reclaiming Human Agency and Demanding Accountability

Despite the rapid expansion of automated surveillance and monopoly corporate power, public pushback against techno-fascism is escalating across the globe. Tech workers are organizing collective resistance under campaigns like #NoTechForIce, frontline hospital nurses are actively resisting algorithmic workplace surveillance, university students are booing AI-focused graduation speeches off the stage, and local community groups are successfully blocking data center construction to protect their water tables and power grids from soaring utility costs.

At its core, this struggle is a vital fight over human agency. The defining question of our era is whether our work schedules, civil liberties, medical care, and democratic futures will be dictated by proprietary algorithms owned by a handful of billionaires, or governed by human communities exercising democratic control.

Reclaiming human agency requires concrete structural interventions:

Enforcing Strict Liability Laws: Implementing robust regulatory frameworks, such as the EU AI Act, to hold corporate executives legally and criminally liable for algorithmic harms.

Antitrust Enforcement: Breaking up monopoly tech conglomerates that control search ecosystems, cloud infrastructure, and mobile operating platforms.

Technological Disarmament: Banning autonomous, algorithmic targeting systems in law enforcement, border control, and military applications.

Labor Unionization & Democratic Infrastructure: Supporting tech worker unions, protecting whistleblowers, and establishing publicly owned, democratically governed data infrastructure.

Source:
https://medium.com/law-and-ethics-in-tech/the-dark-side-of-the-machine-god-5-unsettling-truths-about-big-techs-ai-obsession-ed21e697b200

• Law and Ethics in Tech
• Rezgar Akrawi
• Digital Fascism
• Digital Left
• AI
• Digital capitalism

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