Submitted by DeathToAmerica in Anarchism (edited )

Statism and capitalism are only upheld because of the proletariat who willingly carry them on their shoulders. If it weren't for their obedience to their masters, the system would be defeated tomorrow.

Individualists aren't as sympathetic towards the worker class as social anarchists are. If the Bonnot Gang shows up to the bank that you work at, and you try to stop them from robbing it, why should they give a shit whether you've got a badge or not? You are emulating the function of a cop in upholding the violence of capital.

Bruno Filippi:

Row after row of those who are more morally than physically chronic consumptives, pinheads, cripples, hunchbacks, blind; horrible faces sculpted by vice, by syphilis, by alcohol.

Whose toothless, yellow, slobbering mouths vomited against my horrible insults.

All the hatred that gurgles in your throat, forming two rivulets of slobber that run down from the corners of your mouth, does not move me from my indifference.

Still you shake your fist, which was trained to toss dung. And you women insult me as well, you in whose womb human sorrow perpetuates itself. You are all vile, vile! Despicable beings, worthy of the whip! Crawling reptiles in search of one filthy crust of bread, dogs who lick the hand of anyone who beats you! Is it for you, really for you, that I must rise up in revolt?

For you, for your children and your mothers?

Carcasses rotting in resignation, worm-eaten mummies of a decadent society, you deceive yourselves. I wouldn’t give the tiniest drop for your cause, nor even waste a cigarette on you.

Go on with your descent into the mud. While you bring yourselves down, I will climb. I will rejoice in seeing the degeneration that makes its way inside you. I rejoice. I rejoice.

Day after day, your forehead recedes, your mouth becomes more sinister. Day after day, the stigmata of putrefaction are noticed under your yellowing skin.

And I laugh, I laugh!

What a joy to be present at the collapse of a world, to see blood, corpses, rot everywhere!

Meanwhile the bourgeoisie and the people deceive each other and slaughter each other.

I am here, amused by all this bustling about.

Here a Kaiser, there a Wilson and everywhere people who moan and don’t rise up.

Into the mud, reptile!

I do not want to unite with the multitude of those who flatter the proletariat, excusing them, praising them, adorning them with wreathes. No, oh distinguished windbags, your verve disguises nothing. The “people” is always there, idiotic, cowardly, resigned. And I, who consider myself superior, desire to be so, and both the bourgeoisie and the proletariat will pay for my superiority. You languish in hunger and hardships, you vegetate, bestially fertilizing wombs with a swarm of ragged, filthy, scrofulous, stunted brats.

Force! You raise your cowardly lament in chorus! You say that you are hungry. You stretch out your hand in front of the shop window full of jewels. Do it, take it! You complain to each other about the war when you yourselves are its authors, and it continues because you put up with it! But I flee from your putridity that would sully me. Proudly alone, I break the chains that link me to you and separate myself from the pack of mangy dogs, submissive to the shepherd. I will wander the world alone carrying my hatred and scorn everywhere. Alone in struggle. Alone in victory and in defeat. My ideas will be the poison that must end up intoxicating you and you tremble before me as before the King, the supreme!...

And meanwhile, I laugh at your grotesque and bloody throng, I laugh so much that I no longer see anyone, and it seems to me that humanity is an immense gangrenous sore that perpetually disgorges thick putrescent pus. And this sore is moved, shaken, covered with scabs that later disappear in order to make way for another disgorging of putrescent matter.

And I laugh and laugh!...

He wrote this around the time of the first world war, when the sacred proletariat were slaughtering each other by the millions on the orders of their bourgie masters.

Killing people going out of their way to enforce capitalist property norms on you while you are striving to overcome this tyranny is fair game to most insurrectionists.



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rot wrote

Not sure how I feel about this.

A lot of bad takes here about the working class, some of which is elitist/ ableist, I'm sensing a sort of lack of empathy; I don't want to say psychopath but the quotes above sound like a stereotypical crazed killer


rot wrote

True, but he's exceptionally bloodthirsty as well. The working class cannot be an Anarchists enemy, wanting to purge undesirables is completely opposite of Anarchism.


arduinna wrote

I feel like he brings up good points yet is still too hostile about it- I feel myself agreeing but at the same time repulsed in that he goes way, way too far about it.


rot wrote

This exactly. I'd be fine if his rage was concentrated at rulers and military but killing the teller at a bank for not being Anarchist enough is way off.