To Change Everything

Humanity is locked in an asymmetric conflict with the institutions of authority.

The more powerful they get, the less capable we are.

The more glory accrues to them, the more impoverished we become.

The more riveting their spectacles, the more paltry our realities;

the more stable their structures, the less stable our lives.

The problem is not the people in authority, but the institutions themselves.

No matter who holds the reins, they produce the same petty indignities and power imbalances.

It’s not that they are broken; this is just what they do.

No piecemeal reform could fix them:

we have to rethink everything according to a different logic.

To change anything, start everywhere.

When a war goes on long enough, it becomes invisible.

We no longer see how militarized our society has become:

the borders, the security checkpoints, the ranking systems and disciplinary measures.

Instead of power over our lives, we have the rule of authority.

What’s the difference between power and authority?

The workers who perform the labor have power;

the bosses who tell them what to do have authority.

The tenants who maintain the building have power;

the landlord whose name is on the deed has authority.

Armies have power; generals have authority.

A river has power; a permit to build a dam grants authority.

There’s nothing oppressive about power itself.

Many kinds of power can be liberating:

the power to care for those you love, to defend yourself and resolve disputes,

to perform acupuncture and steer a sailboat and swing on a trapeze.

There are ways to develop your abilities that increase others’ freedom as well.

Every person who acts to achieve her full potential offers a gift to all.

Authority over others, on the other hand, usurps their power.

And what you can take from them, others will take from you.

Authority is always derived from above:

The soldier obeys the general, who answers to the president,

who derives his authority from the Constitution—

The priest answers to the bishop, the bishop to the pope,

the pope to scripture, which derives its authority from God—

The police officer answers to his superiors, just as the judge derives authority from the law,

and corporations derive theirs from the dollar—

Manhood, whiteness, property: at the tops of all these pyramids,

we don’t even find tyrants, just social constructs:

ghosts hypnotizing humanity.

We will never have power on our own terms so long as we seek it through authority.

In hierarchies, we only obtain power in return for obedience;

power and authority become so interlinked that we can barely distinguish them.

Yet without freedom, power is worthless.

Without authority, people have an incentive to work out conflicts—

to earn each other’s trust.

Trust centers power in the hands of those who confer it, not those who receive it;

relationships built on trust are more likely to be mutually beneficial.

A person who has earned trust doesn’t need authority.

If someone doesn’t deserve trust, why should he be invested with authority?

And yet whom do we trust less than politicians, CEOs, police?

There are many different mechanisms for imposing authority.

Some require a centralized apparatus, like the court system.

Others can function more informally, like gender.

Some of these mechanisms have been completely discredited.

Who still believes in the divine right of kings?

Others, like property rights, remain so deeply ingrained that we cannot imagine life without them

And yet all of them only exist on account of our collective belief:

they are real, but not inevitable.

The existence of slumlords and executives is no more natural, necessary,

or beneficial than the existence of emperors.

It’s not a question of fairness; as long as these mechanisms concentrate power,

most of us will wind up on the losing end.

All the revolutions of the 20th century only secured the right to be bossed around by someone of your own color, class, and creed.

The challenge is to create spaces in which no one can accumulate power over others.

How could we regain control of our lives?

Governments promise us rights, but they can only take liberties;

anything they’re powerful enough to guarantee, they’re powerful enough to take away.

Markets just reward us for fleecing our fellows, and others for fleecing us.

The only sure way to secure the things we care about would be to build leaderless mutual aid networks capable of self-defense.

Doing without the state wouldn’t mean ceasing to provide for those in need;

it would mean helping each other directly instead of feeding a bureaucracy.

Doing without property law wouldn’t mean you would lose your possessions;

it would mean that no sheriff or stock market crash could take away the things you need.

If it weren’t for state-imposed property rights, our relationships to things would be determined by our relationships with each other.

Today, it is the other way around: our relationships with each other are determined by our relationships to things.

We want to abolish domination altogether—not to manage its details more judiciously,

not to swap out who inflicts and who endures, not to stabilize the system by reforming it.

Rather than calling for more legitimate rules or rulers, let’s find our own strength and learn to use it together.

Even those who simply wish to exert leverage on the authorities must admit that the most effective way to do this is to develop the power to act autonomously.

But it would be better still to set our own agenda, on our own terms.

Our wager is that in standing up for ourselves we will find others who do the same,

and our struggles will unlock new possibilities for our lives.

Win or lose, this path offers the richest experiences and relationships that are possible today.

In a world ruled by petty despots, it produces heroes; in a time of predictable routines, it inspires adventures;

in the face of the humiliations of modern life, it offers us our dignity.

To change everything, start anywhere.

If any of this resonates with you, you may be an anarchist.