Tag: Food Not Bombs

Rhizomes and Anarchist Infoshops: Deleuze & Guattari in Practice?

I’m writing a piece on infoshops in the 1990s, which led me to revisit an earlier essay I wrote on our Antidote Infoshop and Food Not Bombs in Ithaca in 2018. I wrote it as I read Deleuze & Guattari’s A Thousand Plateaus, which helped me think through the rhizomatic forms of anarchist organization. I don’t necessarily agree with much or all of the piece anymore, and it is notable that the Ithaca anarchist groups it highlights each fell apart within a year… But I still think it is interesting. Here is a brief excerpt from the middle of the piece:

Alternative infrastructure and anarchist organizations more broadly should be organized in fluid rhizomatic networks to resist state control. Here, anarchists can benefit from Deleuze and Guattari’s exploration of the possibilities of non-hierarchical rhizomatic networks of organization.[1] Counter to all efforts to develop hierarchies and centralize control, we should fight for decentralization and fractal organization; as the Curious George Brigade argues, “fractalized resistance cannot be adequately met by predesigned management and crowd control strategies.”[2]

Against a hierarchical, arborescent organization of thought and practice, Deleuze and Guattari pose another mode of organization: the rhizome. Anarchist infrastructure and organization are largely structured as rhizomes already, but this principle should continue to be embraced more consciously.

Rhizomes have six main characteristics. The first two are principles of connection and heterogeneity. That is to say, “any point of a rhizome can be connected to anything other, and must be.”[3]

Third is the principle of multiplicity, which treats the multiple “as a substantive, ‘multiplicity’ […] Multiplicities are defined by the outside: by the abstract line, the line of flight or deterritorialization according to which they change in nature and connect with other multiplicities.”[4]

Fourth, the principle of asignifying rupture, holds that rhizomes can be broken at any spot but continually reform along new lines. “There is a rupture in the rhizome whenever segmentary lines explode into a line of flight, but the line of flight is part of the rhizome. These lines always tie back to one another.”[5] In this principle, Deleuze and Guattari provide a strategy for how to practice rhizomatic expansion by following deterritorializing flows.[6]

Finally, the fifth and sixth principles are of cartography and decalcomania. Against the “tree logic” of “tracing and reproduction,” D&G argue that “the rhizome is altogether different, a map and not a tracing. […] What distinguishes the map from the tracing is that it is entirely oriented toward an experimentation in contact with the real.”[7] This experimentation in concrete projects is core to the anarchist approach.

Networks of anarchist infrastructure should turn a potential weakness—the fluid and often ephemeral nature of autonomous spaces—into a strength by organizing rhizomatically. Each node within the network should make as many connections as possible to other spaces and draw lines to connect them. The network should embrace its ever-shifting quality and constantly reconfigure itself, moving fluidly around shifting nodes. And finally, anarchists should continually experiment with new organizations and institutions, never falling back on tracings of previous efforts.

This relates as well to the common anarchist organizational form of the affinity group. Affinity groups are small collectives of people (usually around five to ten) who naturally share certain affinities regarding political practice and ideology. They often begin as or become close friends. As the members share common affinities, the goal is to operate as a unit and thus be more effective politically. Deleuze and Guattari write of the multiplicity of the wolf pack in a manner reminiscent of an affinity group.

among the characteristics of a pack are small or restricted numbers, dispersion, nondecomposable variable distances, qualitative metamorphoses, inequalities as remainders or crossings, impossibility of a fixed totalization or hierarchization, a Brownian variability in directions, lines of deterritorialization, and projection of particles. […] The pack, even on its own turf, is constituted by a line of flight or of deterritorialization that is a component part of it.[8]

Rather than attempt to organize more traditionally in formal structures, anarchists embrace the small, shifting multiplicities of affinity groups that come together for specific actions and projects before dispersing again to new areas and pursuits.

[1] Indeed, as I plan to argue in subsequent academic work, one can trace a genealogy relatively directly from Deleuze and Guattari’s work in the 1970s to contemporary anarchist practice in the United States, via Italian Autonomia and the West German Autonomen.

[2] The Curious George Brigade, Anarchy in the Age of Dinosaurs, 45.

[3] Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus, 7.

[4] Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus, 8-9.

[5] Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus, 9.

[6] “Always follow the rhizome by rupture; lengthen, prolong, and relay the line of flight; make it vary, until you have produced the most abstract and tortuous of lines of n dimensions and broken directions. Conjugate deterritorialized flows. Follow the plants: you start by delimiting a first line consisting of circles of convergence around successive singularities; then you see whether inside that line new circles of convergence establish themselves, with new points located outside the limits and in other directions. Write, form a rhizome, increase your territory by deterritorialization, extend the line of flight to the point where it becomes an abstract machine covering the entire plane of consistency. ‘Go first to your old plant and watch carefully the watercourse made by the rain. By now the rain must have carried the seeds far away. Watch the crevices made by the runoff, and from them determine the direction of the flow. Then find the plant that is growing at the farthest point from your plant. All the devil’s weed plants that are growing in between are yours. Later . . . you can extend the size of your territory by following the watercourse from each point along the way.’” Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus, 11.

[7] Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus, 12.

[8] Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus, 33.

From the Archive to the Infoshop: Reflections on Movement History

Forty sweaty people stood shoulder to shoulder in a crowded punk space listening to an old anarchist talk politics. Despite the familiar atmosphere, we were not between songs at a show. The crowd was gathered for one of the most popular events in a “Week of Anarchy” that I helped organize in August 2018 at our local infoshop, The Antidote. Ramsey Kanaan, founder of the anarchist publishers AK Press and PM Press, was animatedly sharing his experience organizing against the UK poll tax in the 1980s. Ramsey was sharply critical of the fact that our local political work was centered around Food Not Bombs and the infoshop. He argued that we needed to organize around more substantial political issues and engage in mass social struggle, as did UK anarchists fighting in the poll tax rebellion. Infrastructural projects might feel good, he maintained, but they would not lead to revolution. Let the Catholic charities feed people—they could do it better than Food Not Bombs, anyway.

We were indignant and a little defensive. Food Not Bombs and the Antidote Infoshop were the foundation for our political work in Ithaca. They helped us build community and find meaning in our own lives. Most of all, they were a living example of the new world we sought to build based in mutual aid and solidarity. And yet within half a year the infoshop fell apart; after another eight months I quit Food Not Bombs, frustrated by our lack of strategic vision.

Why did these projects fail? After much reflection and conversations with comrades, I concluded that these projects became ends in themselves which sucked up an enormous amount of time and energy. Rather than expanding our capacity to engage politically, they ended up constricting our field of vision. Frustrated conversations about this with my partner would often end with us saying “shit, was Ramsey right after all?”

Later, conducting dissertation research at the Brooklyn Interference Archive, I eagerly pored through numerous zines, personal reflections, and debates from the infoshop movement in the 1990s. I was shocked to read many of the exact same discussions and debates that we had had about our own infoshop, particularly the lack of political direction and the drain of energy. Without knowledge of the history of infoshops, we had tried to reinvent the wheel from scratch. Had we known about this previous generation of infoshops and learned from their errors, we could have avoided some major pitfalls.

Most importantly, perhaps we could have seen the danger of putting too much focus on maintaining the space itself at the expense of serious discussions about our political strategy. Had we been familiar with this history, we could have pushed ourselves to have more political discussions from the start, worked out a broader intentional strategy to build anarchism as a force in Ithaca, and positioned the infoshop as something that contributes to that broader strategy rather than being an end in itself. Of course, many participants did have their own sense of political strategy; the problem was that we did not have these discussions as a group. We fell into the trap that Joel Olson (himself an active participant in the 1990s anarchist movement) identified in his essential essay Between Infoshops and Insurrection, that all too often “infoshops and insurrection get taken as revolutionary strategies in themselves rather than as part of a broader revolutionary movement. In the infoshops model, autonomous spaces become the movement rather than serving it.”

Movement history is necessary because it brings these histories to a new generation of radicals. Not everybody can spend weeks in archives reading obscure documents from previous movements. Historians can compile these resources and interpret lessons from them for new waves of anarchist activity. This is what I hope to do with my own historical work. The highest honor I can imagine as a historian would be to someday see my book sitting on an infoshop bookshelf, marked as the material for an upcoming meeting of an anarchist reading group.