Anarchy

Anarchy pt. I: Philadelphia

Anarchy
n., pl. -chies.
1. Absence of any form of political authority.
2. Political disorder and confusion.
3. Absence of any cohesive principle, such as a common standard or purpose.
[New Latin anarchia, from Greek anarkhiā, from anarkhos, without a ruler : an-, without; see a–1 + arkhos, ruler; see –arch.]*

I saw some video the other day about the "New Anarchist" movement in Philadelphia. Note: I'll try to refrain from using quotes everywhere I use the word "Anarchist" but it's going to be difficult as the vast majority of the "Anarchists" I've seen were living quite comfortably off of their parents/friends, working some "Capitalist" job or bumming money and food from others. One of the head Anarchists was a chubby guy in his mid-20s with a tweeker cut (a ponytail with the head shaved short on either the side like a 17 year old Korn fan), bad skin and a shoddy goatee. He was talking about how Philadelphia was the birthplace of America so it's only natural it should be the birthplace of the Anarchist revolution. Let's not even get into the fact he's proclaiming himself part of the birth of the Anarchist Revolution. When pressed for what it was exactly he was fighting for he said "I'm fighting against Capitalist Repression" (even though he was holding a Pepsi), and that the goal of the Anarchist movement is to show that you can survive without any cops, teachers, politicians, bosses or anyone in charge. Wow, awesome plan. I'm all for different ways of living but I want to see people with realistic answers and pragmatic plans, not chubby suburban tool-bags waving the flag of an ideology that's on par intellectually with a toddler. Or at least on par with a 14 year old pubescent dork with a Sharpie getting his hands on "Never Mind the Bollocks" for the first time(great record by the way).

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Anarchy pt. II: Berlin

There is an amazing squatter population in parts of Europe. When I was in Berlin last year it appeared to weigh in at about 25% of the general population. Go to neighborhoods like Kreuzberg and every building is spray painted from top to bottom; some with banners for the websites and myspace pages of artists who live in the previously abandoned buildings. There's no need to go to bars when you can walk down the street and follow the music into some Soviet-era apartment building where squatters have turned every room into some kind of cash bar/dance party. I found an old red-brick military base on the river that had been overrun by squatters and where there was a makeshift bar with a patio and $2 beers, a skate park in one building, a rock wall in another and countless parties going on in the rest of the buildings. It was a Tuesday night and there were small groups of people being eerily illuminated by the old flood lights smoking weed, playing music and walking from building to building. We were walking around in amazement when a parade of ambulances came in to the compound and someone was pulled out of the skate park on a stretcher which led to a general melee so we headed back to a much more capitalist, although Big Lebowski themed bar.

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Anarchy pt. III The Free People's Republic of Christiania

D had told A and H that my wife and I were rare examples of dignified Americans, the kind that don't wear sports apparel and with whom you could hold a civilized conversation about topics beyond primetime television programming. It was our second night in Copenhagen and we had been casually drinking beer since lunch and were still carrying cans of Tuborg as we walked to their apartment in the center of the city. Their apartment was a large, street level one bedroom with hardwood floors and big windows that opened right onto the main street. We were introduced and started drinking wine straightaway with A playing me Scandanavian bands on his iPod and H in the kitchen getting dinner ready. He was telling me about BMX and how he had been organizing races and getting tracks set up all over Europe and his hope was to see BMX come into the mainstream in Scandanavia. We were having a great time and by the time the food came out I was getting dangerously drunk from the wine. We had an amazing meal and then press-pot coffee which woke me up but the damage was done and it was taking everything in me not to turn into a drunken werewolf in front of this generous and refined couple, flipping over the table and running off into the night. Must remain civilized.... I was thinking about this when A got a call on his cellphone from a friend who was going to a show in Christiania and so stuffing our pockets with Tuborg we left their place and headed to Christiania, drinking on the subway and with A telling me about the British committing an act of terrorism in the 17th century by bombing Copenhagen's harbor. After walking along a long stone wall for a couple hundred yards we came to the large wooden sign reading "CHRISTIANIA - You are now leaving the EU" and on either side were large concrete barricades used to keep out the police.



You can learn about the place here: Current.tv Videos and thread about Christiania but essentially it's an old Danish military base that squatters claimed in the 1960s and saw as the perfect opportunity to create a new society from the ground up as the base had basically all the necessary means for a self-contained society. So the hippies and anarchists claimed it as a free nation independent of Denmark and the government let them have it as they actually have protection and rights there and in other parts of Europe. They also set up an impressive hash trade and there was a street called "Pusher Street" where vendors would sit at folding tables and sell hash and weed. Things were going dandy until a few years ago when someone got killed in a gang fight, which brought on the heat and the police conduct regular raids now. On muiltiple occasions however the citizens of Christiania have effectively fought the police off, barricading the gates and lobbing Molotov cocktails and huge rocks at them, and so the police and citizens of Freetown have stuck a kind of uneasy balance.

We got through the gates and walked around the spray painted buildings a bit and after talking to A's friend we walked up a spray-painted staircase into a large two story building. On the top floor we paid a cheap cover and walked into the main hall where bands were playing and beer was something like $1.50 U.S., so we got huge beers and made our way toward a long bar by the stage. They were projecting films and images of the citizens fighting off the police in a raid, and in fact the entire show was a memorial for some large raid that had happened two years earlier. The bands were all pretty sub-par and one band had skateboards all over the stage and hats of different U.S. sports teams, doing some form of confused rap. When you travel abroad you realize two things: 1) our vapid American culture is sadly everywhere and 2)it's not quite American culture but more like a diluted, confused version of our culture. It's like the game Telephone but with popular culture. The whole scene was totally surreal and at one point I was talking to this random guy smoking a hash joint and he asked where I was from. When I told him California he lit up like a pinball machine and said he wished he could move there and the he was jealous of me for living in the coolest place in the world, while I was jealous of this dork for taking for granted a kind of dumb freedom we could never enjoy in California without a massive police presence shutting the place down and shooting everyone in sight within 2 minutes of the first amplified riff. I said "Yeah and in California we dance like this" and started throwing my arms up in the air and flailing around wildly. He started doing the same and I spotted him a few minutes later doing my California seizure dance towards the front of the stage. I can only hope it's spread like wildfire. We left Christiania like sailors on shore leave, arm in arm and with me screaming "Ya elska Christiania!!", "Ya elska hashish!" and the Electric Six song "Gay Bar" but replacing every other "Gay Bar!" with "Denmark!". We walked into a bar, bought a round of beers and walked outside with them because the bar was so packed. Then we decided to head back to A and H's place so we just took the beers with us, and we all drunkenly went up to the attic where they said a ghost lived (to the chagrin of their neighbors) but I was the scariest thing up there by far and we went to bed.

- Joel

*Dictionary. The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition Copyright © 2007, 2000 by Houghton Mifflin Company. Updated in 2007. Published by Houghton Mifflin Company. All rights reserved.