I write about fascism–the fascism of the past in the present. I write about some of those that stood up against it. About the self-imposed genocide by Spain of its own people during and after its suicidal civil war. That’s what I do for a living until my university sees fit to hand me a piece of paper. You made it, kid. Thank you very much, this is the happiest day of my life.
I write of the horrors of living in the grey zone of political prisoners. Of the shadow of the tyrant and his “justice”, for it is inevitably a HE, and he always proclaims to represent “civilization” and “law and order”. Francisco Franco called for a national crusade against the evils of communism which started in 1936 and never truly ended, not even after that bastard shoved off this mortal coil. He did as countless leaders of the Western world did. A trick within a lie, and most convenient; fighting the phantom of “Marxism” as a catch-all for every dissenter, rebel, objector, and “dissident”. The modern security state was tailor-made for Western fascism: intolerant, radicalized in its ethno-nationalism, dehumanized, and mechanized for slaughter. Ghouls operating drones engaged in the snuffing out of life.
Oh, but woe be on us! Behold these poor, pathetic bastards that still remember words like “empathy” and “solidarity”, for our humanity shall mark us for the slaughter!
Pity us, impractical sons of bitches, still focused on social justice and true equality!
Oh, fuck it, drink your latte. It’s only the end of the world o’clock. Turn another blind eye, it’s what we’ve always done. Go ahead and bomb the shit out of Yemen, Joe.
We serve evil. And when we do so without question, without remorse, we ARE evil. Our nation is a threat to life, to our very survival. We have all bathed in blood and rejoiced in it, drank our fill from the grail of Empire and praised its glories. Supported endless generations of mass murderers as leaders while choosing to be tribalized in partisan bullshit.
Bullshit! Your president is bullshit!
Bullshit! Your candidate is bullshit!
Bullshit! Your “democracy is bullshit!
Bullshit! Your country is all bullshit!
YOU are bullshit. YOU are a murderer.
Baby killer.
Baby killer.
Baby killer.
Cambodia and Laos long forgotten. Gaza is nothing but a lie! All victims have it coming! THOSE BABIES HAD IT COMING!
And yet I write. Click clack go the keys of my laptop. Nothing to see here.
There is a surreal quality to be writing about the lives of political prisoners and the networks they created and nurtured to resist totalitarianism while an apartheid ethno-nationalist state commits genocide with the blessings of the United States, while living in the United States. And yet to discuss anti-fascism in times like these becomes a matter of survival. Life in imprisonment is a liminal existence, regardless of it being an entire population like the Palestinians under the apartheid rule of Israel or a lone political prisoner during the Franco dictatorship. In both cases survival was a defiant act experienced in near stasis, without true roots above or below where to love, live, or die, and under the constant shadow of a violent death. In both cases the State exists as a death-giver, a ruthless executioner. An apartheid state and a fascist state both thrive on breaking their subjects’ humanity and impose an acceptance of inevitability. A child in Gaza and an anarchist prisoner in Carabanchel prison would have felt a kingship born from living under the constant fear of death, of experiencing life as a transitory survival, and of a continued existence as an act of resistance and sheer will. You did it, kid. Thank you very much, this is the happiest day of my life.
We made Francisco Franco’s Spain. We made Israel. We manufacture our own nightmares and call them friends. Then we kill for them. We are fascists. All of us. We breathe hate and export death. We deny the right to live, to love, to control our bodies, and we only live to serve and obey. We chant “FOUR MORE YEARS!” to one of the bloodiest bastards to have ever sat on the American throne.
Serve the State. Serve the state. To question is to be weak.
“But do you want Trump to win?” ask the feeble-minded genocide cheerleaders.
No. I want this country to lose.
