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Post Covid Riot Prime Manifesto – Red October [Part IV]

After Post Covid Riot Prime Manifest and Post Covid Riot Prime Manifest Next Level“Doc” Mccoy started a new series: Post Covid Riot Prime Manifest – Red October.  On September 28 we published Post Covid Riot Prime Manifest – Red October [Part I]. On October 17, 2022, Part II. On October 27, 2022, Part III. Today we continue and finish the Post Covid Riot Prime Manifesto – Red October series. Here is Part IV.

Originally published by Non Copyriot. Written by “Doc” Mccoy. Translated by Riot Turtle.

All 3 series in one PDF: Post Covid Riot Prime Manifesto, Post Covid Riot Prime Manifesto – Next Level and Post Covid Riot Prime Manifesto – Red October. Post Covid Riot Prime Manifesto Trilogy – Full Version – PDF Version

Online Reading: https://enoughisenough14.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/PostCovisRiotPrimeManifestTrilogyEnglish.pdf

Print-version: https://enoughisenough14.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/PostCovisRiotPrimeManifestTrilogyEnglish-print.pdf

Fifty-six: Mother, if Satan would ask God for forgiveness, do you think he would? – Snabba Cash (Fast Cash). Day after day burying the fallen, mothers and fathers wailing over their daughters and sons, still so young, thousands at the graves that must always be dug anew. Night after night burning barricades, Molotovs on the facilities of the repressive forces, every morning the same anxious questions, where are the companions? Have they fallen into the hands of the enemy, stayed home out of fear, overslept from exhaustion, been kidnapped, arrested, in prisons, police stations, in unknown places? Who will appear again in their ranks tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, or in a week, a month, scratched, bruised, sick in body and soul, still these cicatrice that cannot be talked about because actually there are no words for them. Continuing, not giving up, to have gone so far already. Having to win in order to give everything a meaning. To be able to defend all the dead to oneself. Failure is death. Certain death. So gathering again, hugs, deep looks from tired eyes, yalla. Somewhere the American president announces that we will win. Improves quickly, but that is exactly what is meant.

Memories of Homs, another uprising, of Aleppo, where everything seemed to be going well, but which then became a place of eternal horror. Barrel bombs, day after day, Russian air reconnaissance, first the hospitals, then the improvised medical centers, doctors, nurses, wounded, sick, the primary operational target. An insurgency that was betrayed a thousand times, to which every world and regional power sent its auxiliaries, an insurgency that was denounced and abandoned by the world’s leftists because anything organized beyond their own limited conceptuality seems suspect. Betrayed and sold until the Islamists were able to make easy prey. So now cheap solidarity addresses from morons in some entertainment show, somewhere between commercial breaks and the next bloated wishy-washy thing. Where everything is empty and meaningless in the metropolis, identity is appropriated; colonialism never stopped.

So now the Iranian companions must win. But how can that be done? When it has to be possible? And even if, when the enemy weakens, his foot troops begin to desert, soldiers refuse to shoot at their families, their neighbors, at unarmed girls and boys, when funds begin to be moved out of the country, when foreign flights are fully booked, when the famous tipping point appears on the horizon, when all this becomes possible. After how many weeks, months, after how many dead, people missing? So, when all that becomes possible that a whole generation dreams of, to finally get even with the clerical fascists, to be able to take revenge, to be able to chase them out of the country… “We” will win, the US president said. He means that in exactly the same terms. If the Iranian leadership falls, it will take Iraq, Lebanon, half a region with it. It’s an instability that none of the global players want at the moment; the terrain of hegemonic power is being fought out elsewhere right now. So what can it look like, the victory, or will it be a Pyrrhic victory, a few cards reshuffled, all remembering the fate of the uprisings, the revolutions that shook the Arab region, the Maghreb, parts of Africa in 2011 ff and the dreariness that took hold of the souls of the proud, apparent victors only a little later. Some of the Syrian revolutionaries say that their revolution was not really defeated, that the uprising changed something between the people, created something fundamentally new, something that is irreversible. Maybe they are right, maybe we all have to think of “the revolution” as something quite different, something beyond our previous imagination. There will be no going back to 1979 in Iran, no monarchy, no reformed clerical project, no Western modernity, nothing that has existed, that exists now. Perhaps we should trust that the revolution will always reinvent itself, must reinvent itself, because historical realities change. That only the revolutionaries live in yesterday, or rather those who claim most loudly for themselves to represent the revolution. And the only thing that stays certain is that we will not let them get away with it. No matter what they claim about themselves, with which they want to make us believe that they are no longer our enemies, that they never were. Perhaps the gods can forgive, we have a whole world to mourn, they robbed us of a whole world, a world that cannot be replaced. We are part of the struggle of the Iranian companions. Either we are, or we are not people who are in struggle. In the streets of Tehran, Sanandaj and Khash, our future is also being negotiated. We are deeply indebted to the Iranian insurgents for sacrificing so much for all of us, for our strategic option of holding the mortal enemies of humanity accountable, because in this historical momentum all insurgencies are objectively intertwined, because we know more about each other than we think, because our lives, our destinies depend on each other, in this global monstrous world that they, our mortal enemies, have created.

Fifty-seven: “Our violence is political, it is there to remind the world of our ability to defend and attack when hunger lurks, when our children stare at an empty refrigerator, when our rights are trampled upon, when we are denied our inalienable right to live in dignity and freedom.

In recent years we have used them with a special sense of strategy. Cortège de tête, black block, roadblocks, car reduction, free mouse actions, sabotage of speed cameras, wildcat strikes, blockades of refineries and logistics platforms, occupations of universities and shopping malls, of traffic circles and farmlands: We forge our arsenal in struggle; we learn to use our weapons and collective tools in struggle.” – Les Gilets Jaunes Invisibles (1). All lines of confrontation are converging at the moment, the ecological movements, the movements from the suburbs and the surplus proletariat, the queer and women’s movements, the movements of the racially oppressed, the migration movements, the struggles of the core proletarian workforces who are still organized, the revolts in the triconts. Meet on this terrain where the mechanisms of integration, the woke diversity end and the naked violence of the commandos prevails. The new fundamental social antagonism arises in these places, seeks and finds the confrontation with the armed line of defense of the doomed world. What still needs to be understood in general terms is the way in which these alliances can be forged in the long term, how a common language and conceptualization of the present can be appropriated, from which a fundamental revolutionary movement can emerge that generates counter-power in real terms. Rediscovering itself in the contradictory needs of the different actors, understanding the enrichment that this contradictoriness carries. The anti-globalization movement failed because of the immaturity at the time, the treasure of its experiences in terms of heterogeneity, diversity of tactics, flexibility, fundamental offensiveness, must be recovered, rediscovered and reinterpreted. And just as there is no more storming the Winter Palace anymore, there are no more red zones to conquer. We are already far beyond them. The task now is to develop ideas about what kind of consistency liberated zones should have, how these places should be understood in the first place. In any case, it is necessary to understand that these places are primarily places of consciousness and relationships, spatially seen fleeting states of aggregation, which are immediately abandoned when the balance of power changes concretely to our disadvantage, in order to move on, the presence of revolutionaries is that of being nomads, who move from conflict to conflict, not to be seized by the (still) superior opponent, leaving behind invisible filaments, depots, promises, alliances, conspiracies, friendships, waiting for the maturity of time. For the day when we can finally risk stepping out of the shadows without being crushed by their destructive machinery. Then everything will be rewritten. But no one can guarantee us whether we will be victorious. But for the first time in a century, we have the chance to start the fundamental overthrow.

Fifty-eight: “I had felt with all the power of my fast-circulating blood that my death would not rob this tree of its shining beauty, that it would only rob the world of my gaze.” – Jorge Semprú. What a Beautiful Sunday. The fascist power option is not back, it never disappeared, the OAS, Gladio, the Greek obrist regime, the fascist Turkish military coup in 1980, the mobilization of “60 million against six terrorists”, the open threat of the extralegal killing of the RAF prisoners in FRG in 1977, De Gaulle’s threat of a state of emergency and a military government, the march of the hundreds of thousands of “decent people of France” on May 30 1968 in Paris, the fascist option has always been a counterrevolutionary one and at present, not only in Latin America in the form of the various fascist coups by CIA’s grace. The narrative of the ‘end of history’ went hand in hand with the narrative of ‘civil society’, social opposition as participation, shoulder-to-shoulder with power. Anti-fascism as a state doctrine, now there is a lot of howling when secret services and the police apparatus simply continue what they have been doing for decades, making common cause with the fascists in the back room of power.

Nevertheless, the electoral successes of the far-right parties, their increasing influence in broad sections of the population in recent years, naturally also create the conditions for the insurgent movements. It will not always be as easy as in France, where the fascists were simply punched out of the Gilets Jaunes movement. We can see in Germany that the agreement of the very largest parts of the (radical) left with the totalitarian state in the pandemic state of emergency enabled the fascists to successfully carry out grassroots work on the streets for two years, we see that the left is not able to bring even rudimentary people to the streets for a ‘hot autumn’, but the fascists can pick up people exactly where they ended in the protests against the totalitarian Corona measures.

But the question regarding a fascist renaissance is more fundamental and not limited to Western Europe. In essence, the crucial question is whether or not fascist groups and parties will succeed in mobilizing beyond the ballot box. Their project is exclusively one of resentment; they have no ideas to offer about the actual organization of the empire in the Endgame. As a nascent part of the power apparatus, they are bound by the necessities of maintaining the conditions of exploitation; they cannot get out of that routine. But two essential aspects remain to be considered: first, they can pose a serious threat to us on the streets and ideologically bind parts of the proletariat potentially ready for rebellion to themselves; and second, the instability that accompanies the intensification of the management of the omnipresent, permanent crisis always harbors the danger of momentum of its own, which can also make a ‘fascism of despair’ possible as the last resort of the Empire.

Fifty-nine: “The desert is the proper place of krisis, in the original sense of this ancient Greek word that continues to obsess us: choice and decision. Do you not therefore think, my friends, that today we are all “pushed” exactly to this place? Perhaps the inevitable moment of decision has come for all of us? And do you not think that this is a decision that we should take together, starting from ourselves and not each for her/himself without taking into account others?” – Marcello Tarì; A letter to friends from the desert (2). Without a doubt, the world can only be understood, grasped, as a desert. But what now? The suggestion would be to simply assume it. To accept the inevitability. Not that it doesn’t hurt, it hurts endlessly. Not that it can be endured. It is not endurable. That there would be any consolation. There isn’t. In a period of a bit more than 500 years, the Western death cult has established a global desert.

And now they want us to finally despair, to go crazy, alone in the desert, without orientation, without hope. We are supposed to continue to listen to the instructions from the loudspeakers and follow them, only this would enable bare survival for us. We are supposed to wear masks when it is ordered rather than when we think it makes sense to do so. We are supposed to shun other people when it is ordered, we are not supposed to comfort our children in the neighboring room when they cry because they are highly infectious, we are all supposed to carry our QR codes with us all the time to be allowed to enter spaces or not. We should be prepared that none of this will stop, the next epidemic is waiting around the corner and only the keepers will know what to do when it does. We are supposed to be grateful for the distraction machinery that is generously provided to us for a small fee. We are all to become squealers. Who disregard the general commands, which are issued for the safety of all of us. We are to squeal loudly and point our fingers at anyone who evades the general welfare. We are to love and honor our fatherland again and be ready to die for its values on days like these. We are supposed to freeze joyfully and enjoy the parklets placed in the traffic-congestion zones. We are supposed to forget who we are because having our own identity only means appropriation. We are supposed to love our lives as prisoners and cherish our keepers. Without a doubt, we do not even deserve this desert. Just as children’s souls are broken with black pedagogy until they bury all their dreams in a sea of tears, we should finally settle down in this desert they have created.

But what if Marcello Tarì is right. If all that matters is how we decide, what choice we make, in this place where we find ourselves, regardless of what our part in it is, whether it was perhaps even inevitable that we find ourselves in this situation. I said it on another passage, I think we are historically free for the first time in over 100 years, maybe even more free than we were 100 years ago. Free to make our choices. The world has become a desert, but the desert also offers opportunities. The Bedouins, vastly inferior militarily, started their rebellion against the Ottoman Empire in the desert using guerrilla tactics, attacking remote military posts, sabotaging water supplies and the strategically important rail link between Damascus and Medina before they were able to take Aqaba. The desert is the place where we fall into despair, alone and isolated, or the place where we begin to organize our forces, far from the bases and reconnaissance units of our enemies.

Sixty: “Well, I was there and I saw what you did – I saw it with my own two eyes – So you can wipe off that grin, I know where you’ve been – It’s all been a pack of lies.” We live in tumultuous times. Haven’t we all secretly longed for this? Finally, no more next meaningless meeting, the next symbolic action. The next meaningless distraction. The next superficial encounter. The false friends, the insincere comrades, the empty slogans. Finally leaving all that behind, in the desert you can’t remember your name, we hear from others who are searching sincerely, who want a break, who want to experience something worth remembering. Here we are just a few, but we are not alone. Hundreds of thousands of people around the world are losing their livelihoods every day, their habitats are being destroyed. There is a general awareness of the end of the world as we know it, there is a general awareness of who is responsible for it. It’s not going to stop until we stop it. No one can take the responsibility for that away from us. We make the choices in these difficult hours, we have a choice. There is no luxury for all. There is no vacation camp communism. If you want luxury, you have to become corrupt or rob Gucci. If you want communism, or whatever you want to call it, which gets the beast off our backs, you have to get rid of your comforts. Especially your comfortable thinking patterns. All over the world people are revolting, probably none of these revolts started with tribunals about the right to participate in the revolts. Talk to the young people who riot on Halloween, listen to the people who are fed up with almost 3 years of state of emergency, finally organize with your fellow workers and neighbors and stop constantly calling for meetings and demonstrations to which only you show up, but not your neighbors and colleagues. We have to get rid of these rascals and their deadly exploitation machinery. With all means. The ripeness of the time has come. “Nothing is so likely to liberate our way of thinking in all directions with one blow from the constricting fetters of the templates as a revolutionary period.” – Rosa Luxemburg

Notes

[1] N’ayons pas peur des ruines, Paris Luttes Infos , October 16, 2022: https://paris-luttes.info/n-ayons-pas-peur-des-ruines-16180?lang=fr

[2] Marcello Tari: A letter to friends from the desert: https://enoughisenough14.org/2020/03/30/marcello-tari-a-letter-to-friends-from-the-desert/

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