The Horizontal Mambo

My most frequent reader [1] over the years -- and only regular correspondent -- expressed an interest in Bookchin.  I think that being my reader is worth a lot, so I tried to wrap my mind around some core ideas, and provide something I hope at least is amusing to think about, and find responses to.

So the following is my critique of Bookchin’s horizontalism, written without reading the source material.  It is a true essay; an attempt. If I am in error, I am open to learning.

[Update: looks like I did not refute Bookchin, as much as Graeber and the anarchist society depicted in Le Guin's "The Dispossessed"...]

 
1. the need to exclude.

One of the fundamental flaws in purely horizontalist organizing is the lack of effective mechanisms to exclude bad actors, whether they be infiltrators, opportunists, or even just disruptive individuals. Any movement serious about building power will face sabotage—both from external forces trying to undermine it and from internal dysfunction. The problem is, without some form of structured authority, there’s no way to enforce discipline or maintain strategic focus. Decision-making by endless consensus leaves movements vulnerable to concern trolls, agent provocateurs, and the paralysis of bad-faith actors who can derail efforts from within. True democratic organizing isn’t just about inclusion; it’s about defending itself from co-option and sabotage, and that requires some level of hierarchy. Even if leadership structures are decentralized, there must be clear lines of accountability and the ability to remove those working against the movement’s goals—otherwise, it’s just an open door for disruption and decay.

When I was a debate coach, with about 50 kids in my program, I was into anarchism, and ran my program on as anarchistic lines as you could and still have kids about to show up to tournaments and follow the rules of the games. We had a lot of success, in part because my students learned how to think strategically... by doing (Cp They Hate your Freedom).  But one problem, among many, was that this created a power gap that was filled by some really shitty kids. This bad dynamic would grow to the point of them humiliating and bullying me -- which happened to be after my father had died, so I was not in any place handle that... Oh well, moving on; what’s a week without linking to something by David Chapman, especially that piece on Geeks, Mops, and Sociopaths? Bookchin better have real strategies for dealing with this that take into account charisma and misaligned incentives.


2. shock doctrine

Back to the macro-political picture. The right understands that power is not won through moral arguments but through readiness and opportunism. They have perfected what Naomi Klein called the shock doctrine—using moments of crisis, whether real or manufactured, to push their agenda while opponents are disoriented. Historically, before the rise of the modern bureaucratic state, the right was often disorganized, relying on old aristocratic wealth, and frankly lazily constructed mystique, rather than strategic coordination [2]. This gave liberalism and the left (mind, not the same thing) the openings for their greatest victories. But since the Baby Boom, especially in the U.S., that dynamic has reversed. The right has built a network of think tanks, media ecosystems, legal organizations, and donor-backed political machines that allow them to act decisively the moment an opportunity arises. Meanwhile, the left, often stuck in reaction mode or internal debates over process, fails to seize its own moments, allowing the right to dictate the terms of history again and again.



3. Occupy as test case.

Occupy Wall Street was a warning. I understand there is a lot of room to come back with “that’s not real Bookchinism,” and I am willing to learn on that score, but my essential point is still that rather than experimenting with leaderless consensus organizing, that was the moment to have concrete policy demands. It became proof became proof that without a strategy for power, even the most explosive movements can fizzle out. The refusal to articulate (non-process) goals or establish structures for decision-making meant that, despite capturing global attention, Occupy couldn’t convert momentum into lasting change. This really saddens me when I consider David Graeber, with whom I had a few pleasant interactions with on Twitter. He was kind, insightful, and deeply committed to the idea that new ways of organizing were possible. But in the end, the movement’s aversion to structure made it easier for the establishment to wait it out, while the right-wing machinery kept grinding forward.  A “central committee” to craft the party line is pretty damn helpful for leftist politics. Movements that follow the Occupy play book will always be outmaneuvered by those who actually know how to wield power.


4.  “cultivate your garden”

At a certain point, you have to ask: Is this really worth it? Dedicating your life to a struggle that will likely crush you, alienate you, or just leave you exhausted feels like a losing bet. At best, people see you as a weirdo; at worst, you make real enemies who will ruin your career, your reputation, or worse.  And what’s cool, is they won’t even do it in the open...  They’ll fuck you up by smear campaign.  Hell, that’s why I go by "Candide" in the first place. Like Voltaire’s character, I’ve come to realize that all I can do is cultivate my own garden rather than chase grand political dreams that will only drain me. As an autistic person, I’ve also come to see just how unpersuasive I am in these kinds of spaces. Organizing, persuasion, rallying people to a cause—these aren’t my strengths, and if I’m not able to effectively spread ideas, then I’m not a viable link in the chain of political change. Some people are built for that kind of work, but I’m not one of them. And if that’s the case, why spend my life fighting a battle I’m not equipped to win?

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[1] Well, I do have at least one more dedicated reader. Me. Two metaphors for here: a scrapbook, and a place to let my freak flag fly. I am a mild mannered, church attending family man. But that leaves me craving something that is my own... And this, as well as a lot of hiking, is it.

[2] Watching that mystique slow, veeerry slowly, wear away (and on the flip side, continue to work in situations where to modern eyes it should have been impossible) was one of the more interesting things I gained from my systematic historical study.