Aidan Cornelius-Bell
I’m a social scientist and activist looking to create systemic change that serves the proletariat. I care about compassion, justice, genuine equity, reciprocity and radical social change.
Dear friends,
I have been pondering the theoretical landscape of anarchism, particularly anarcho-syndicalism, and its tensions and harmony with Marxist thought. And, for kicks, let’s touch on Social Reproduction Theory and how it might intersect with these radical traditions. Buckle in, comrades – we’re in for a theoretical ride (you’re welcome).
Anarchism, at its core, is a political philosophy (sorry to all the triggered materialists) that advocates for the abolition of all forms of hierarchical authority, including the state, capitalism, and organised religion. Anarchists envision a society based on voluntary cooperation, mutual aid, and direct democracy. Yass, we’re in love. That said, there are many ‘strands’ of anarchist thought, some of them dicier and historically more “ehhh” than others, just like Marxists, in general, though they share a commitment to (individual, though sometimes individualist – yuck) liberty, collective responsibility, and a deep skepticism of centralised power. Remembering that capitalism is dually a conspiracy and reality, yeah, being skeptical of centralised power is good.
Emerging from these strands is a theory of anarcho-syndicalism, which emphasises the role of labor unions and worker-controlled industries as a primary conduit for revolutionary transformation of aforementioned political (economy) landscape. It came into being during the late in the 19th and early 20th century and sees the organised working class as the key agent in overthrowing capitalism and the state. We diverge from Marxism, where? The goal, here, is to replace these structures with a society managed by workers through democratic unions and federations. For the union makes us strong.
Okay, the divergence?
Both Anarcho-syndicalists and Marxists share a fundamental critique of capitalism and a vision of a classless, stateless society. Wait, wait, you said divergence! Well here it gets interesting, particularly when we factor in the failings of manifest “communist” nations (noting that no such thing has ever really existed).
Marxists (hello), with our emphasis on historical materialism as method, i.e., understanding history to understand how to change the now, and the primacy of class struggle, see the seizure of state power by the working class as a necessary transitional phase towards communism. Or, as Marx and Engels put it, the “dictatorship of the proletariat”. This allegedly creates time and space to defend the revolution and will gradually fade away as class distinctions disappear. Except that, again, this hasn’t happened. Countering this, Anarchists reject any form of state power, even if ostensibly wielded by the working class. In (almost, but not actually) a response to the Soviet Union and China as failed communist states. They argue that power corrupts and that any state apparatus will inevitably become oppressive, regardless of its initial intentions. Hmm, who is learning from historical materialism now?
This fundamental disagreement has led to significant historical tensions between anarchists and Marxists. The split in the First International between Marx and Bakunin, and later conflicts like the suppression of anarchists during the Russian Revolution, highlight these deep-seated ideological differences. At least historically. But, as we’re already seeing, there are also important “synergies” (did that word really come out of my fingers?) between anarchist and Marxist thought.
Both traditions offer incisive critiques of capitalism, emphasise working-class self-organisation, and share a commitment to radical social transformation – even towards a communist system. Indeed, for activist and radical practitioners today, there are those who draw inspiration from both traditions, synthesising elements of each in their theory and practice. Cool, so its sort of pragmatic? Maybe.
For instance, autonomist Marxism (for another day, sometimes shares similar individualist come libertarian impulses), with its emphasis on workers’ self-activity and rejection of vanguardism, shares much common ground with anarcho-syndicalism. Both see the importance of building counter-power within capitalism through worker-controlled institutions and direct action. Almost a reformist-first lens – but here’s another diverging point – the outcome, to anarchists, needs to be reached through the “final form” means. For many Marxists, there’s almost a softening of this which has actually allowed capitalist creep.
When we bring Social Reproduction Theory (SRT) to the dance floor things get even more interesting. SRT examines how the reproduction of labor power – the daily and generational renewal of workers’ capacity to work – is essential to the functioning of capitalism. This includes activities like childcare, housework, education, and healthcare, which are often unpaid or underpaid and disproportionately performed by women. Here, once again we’re advancing an “intersectional” approach to the revolution – this should be table stakes at this point (yet it sadly isn’t). SRT and anarchism integrate well already: Anarcha-feminists have long emphasised the importance of challenging patriarchy alongside other forms of hierarchy. SRT, then, provides a theoretical framework for understanding how gender oppression is intertwined with capitalist exploitation, enriching anarchist analyses of power and domination. SRT’s focus on the commons and collective forms of social reproduction resonates with anarchist principles of mutual aid and community self-organisation.
The intersection of anarchism, Marxism, and SRT offers interesting ground for developing more holistic revolutionary theories and practices. Particularly given there are likely more activist practitioners who employ anarchist modes today than Marxists – particularly with the strength of anti-marxist propaganda. While not specifically compatible, Piper and I have just recently begun arguing that synthesising some of the best insights from these traditions – still leveraging a historical materialist approach – we can better understand the multifaceted nature of oppression and exploitation under capitalism and develop more effective strategies for resistance and transformation. Or, at least, that’s the plan – this is a very new area, but one that shows real promise theoretically (as the more experienced anarchists and Marxists look on laughing).
Of course tensions remain. How do we balance the anarchist emphasis on individual liberty with the need for collective organisation? How can we build powerful movements capable of challenging capital and the state without reproducing hierarchical structures? And many more questions (than answers) which seem to be pushed into back-room conversations rather than truly animating debates among radicals. But there’s a few more things to unpack, here, before I leave you for today. Specifically individualism – raised above – and the potential dangers for society therein.
In anarchist thought, there is a strong current of individualism, particularly in the tradition of Stirner and some strands of American anarchism. This emphasis on individual autonomy and self-realisation is, in many ways, a natural response to the suffocating authoritarianism of state and capital, but, like libertarianism it will lead to deeply problematic outcomes.
The danger lies in how easily this individualist impulse aligns fundamentally with, and is consequently corrupted by, neoliberal ideology. When we focus solely on individual freedom without adequately addressing systemic inequalities and collective responsibilities, we risk reproducing the very atomisation that capitalism thrives on. In essence it is a short tumble from “I should be free to do as I please” to “I’m not responsible for anyone else’s wellbeing”. This individualist bent manifests, particularly historically, in various ways within anarchist spaces. We might see it in the rejection of all forms of organisation or accountability, in the fertilisation of “lifestyle anarchism” which prioritises personal rebellion – flatly just “bad behaviour” – over collective struggle, or in the dismissal of all forms of identity-based organising and struggle as “divisive”.
The consequences of this can be severe, particularly for the most marginalised. When we fail to recognise how systems of oppression operate collectively and intersectionally, we leave those most affected by these systems to fend for themselves. A Black trans woman, for instance, faces interlocking systems of racism, transphobia, and misogyny that cannot be adequately addressed through individual action alone.
Lest we think this is solely an anarchist problem we must turn our critical gaze to similar issues within Marxism. While Marxism is fundamentally a collectivist philosophy, it is not immune to individualist distortions, particularly in its encounters with Western liberal thought. One such manifestation of this is the figure of the “exceptional” revolutionary. The idea that through sheer force of will and correct theory, an individual can transcend their social conditions. This can lead to a cult of personality around revolutionary leaders, ironically reproducing the hierarchies that socialism aims to abolish.
Further, the tendency in some Marxist circles to reduce all oppression to class dismisses other forms of marginalisation as “identity politics”. This class reductionism is, in its way, a form of individualism – it assumes that if we just get our individual relationship to the means of production sorted out, all other issues will magically resolve themselves – lol. This approach fails to account for the complex ways in which capitalism, colonialism, and hegemonic ideology intertwines with and reinforces other systems of oppression. It leads to “colour-blind” socialism that, in practice, centres the experiences of white, male, cisgender workers while marginalising others.
It is here that SRT offers valuable insights for radical thinkers. By highlighting how the reproduction of labor power occurs through a complex web of social relations – in households, communities, and institutions – SRT reminds us that our very existence as “individuals” is dependent on collective labour, much of it unpaid and gendered. Such an SRT-informed approach helps us see how struggles for individual liberation bound with collective liberation. It pushes us to think about how we can create forms of organisation and community that support individual flourishing without sacrificing collective responsibility.
It does not discount the value of collectivism, collective action, mutual aid, and tenets from both Marxism and anarchism – but rather invites us to continually reflect on the mesh of social relations that humans exist within to critique all of them for the presence of anti-human thought. For anarchism, this might mean developing more robust theories of collective decision-making and accountability that don’t rely on hierarchical authority. For Marxism, it could involve a more intersectional approach which recognises how class exploitation intersects with other forms of oppression in ways that can’t be reduced to a single (class) axis.
In both cases, it is fundamental that we recognise that true “individuality” – the full development of each person’s potential – can only be realised through relations of solidarity and mutual aid.
Our freedom is bound with the freedom of others. We are not free until we are all free.
Who knows if this one makes any sense, but in essence there are important lessons from all activist praxis. If we stick to only the theoretical and praxis camps with which we are familiar, we inevitably miss things. In this way, drawing from, in particular anarcho-syndicalism, we can reimagine institutional organisation in a way that benefits workers, not capitalists – and if we get there through advancing the tools of the revolution as the tools of praxis, we’re really doing both anarchism and Marxism together. And god knows we need left unity.
In solidarity,
Aidan
Dear friends,
I am fortunate to hold a role which affords me the ability to take leave. And gladly, I have a few days off this week, mostly to pack up our house as we move twice in the next six months. But, I can’t help but ponder the capitalist transformation of universities into profit-driven, productivity-obsessed institutions. You can think of this blog as a form of therapy, right? “They’re on a break but still harping on about capitalist infatuation with destroying academia, like, go lay on a beach you loser”. This capitalist interference in academia, again not suggesting there ever was a golden era, has led us to the latest in a very long line of hellish thought technologies imported wholesale from the corporate world – a culture of “publish or perish,” or “teach while underwater”. In this model, emphasis is given to “quantity” not quality, and certainly not to diversity. Amidst a litany of responses to this – the first, most common, being capitulation under the weight of hegemony, the second, being the exodus of the ruling class from the profession as their ill-gotten hoards support them, and competing thirds, for our discussion today, activist and “slow” responses.
“Slow academia” [1] is a concept which stems from the broader “slow movement” (that, according to Wikipedia authors, anyway, originated with “slow food” in the 1980s). This approach advocates for a more reflective, deliberate engagement with scholarship, pushing back against the commodification of knowledge and the erosion of time for deep thinking. Hot stuff, yeah? Well, maybe. Let’s dig into it.
Slow academia seeks to counter the quantification and marketisation of academic productivity, the precarious employment conditions pushing scholars to overwork, and funding models that prioritise quick, “impactful” results over long-term inquiry, sustained scholarship, and contributions into communities. The movement seeks to emphasise work-life balance, rejecting the always-connected culture that has colonised our world – after all, the hegemon suggests, if you’re not working, or scrolling Zuck’s propaganda orifices, you not really worth existing as a human. However, as is often the case with movements that challenge the status quo, capitalism has found ways to co-opt and twist aspects of slow academia to serve its own ends.
We talked previously, in passing, about the seizing of “mindfulness”, “work-life balance” and other leisure initiatives which have been co-opted into mini-industries, and which fundamentally place responsibility on individuals for failures, burnout, and “problems”, rather than addressing systemic issues. The concomitant rebranding of exploitative practices as “flexible” or “autonomous” work, are just a few examples of how the language of slowing has been commodified and stripped of any critical edge. Remember when everyone was super excited that Google’s corporate offices had pingpong tables? But then you realise no one could use them because they were so over worked? Nah, but notions of “happy work environments” are so frequently propagandist that the grim reality of forced return to office mandates, ever increasing despotism and micromanagement, and psychological torture carried out on behalf of the CEO are just the status quo – at least in most universities, and the Go8 with a pool table and game room for the professional staff that’s only gathered dust since the VC did the photoshoot in there shows that these glossy addons add one thing: propagandist dust – not lived realities.
We must confront the uncomfortable truth that the slow academia movement, which in its current form, often reflects and reinforces existing privilege structures within the academy. It’s lovely to suggest taking it slow, publishing where there’s a community impact, engaging with students in more meaningful modes, and so on – but the institutional rules do not reflect this. For instance, my institution does not recognise publications in platinum OA journals, rather if it’s not in Scopus, it’s not an academic output – and there’s no pathway for retort. The ability to “slow down” requires job security, financial stability, and flexible KPIs not available to many academics, particularly precarious workers, early-career researchers and those from marginalised backgrounds [2].
Moreover, scholars facing intersectional challenges are doubly, triply exploited and often end up picking up the slow, or rather, slack of the tenured professor, thus the luxury of resisting productivity pressures is a bourgeois and race/gender/ability/class-gap exacerbating relation – not a distributed socialist reality. The movement has been rightfully critiqued for centring the experiences of white, Western, tenured academics, inadvertently reinforcing the very power structures it seeks to challenge [3].
To truly transform academia and resist the deeply corrosive effects of capitalism on scholarly life, the slow academia movement must evolve an intersectional, socially reproductive, and/or class consciousness. This means advocating for structural changes to academic employment and funding models, centring the voices and experiences of marginalised scholars, and recognising how “slowness” as a bourgeois construct amplifies extant vulnerabilities, oppression, and practices which the academy exploits with glee. While, of course, not all “slow” scholars can be tarred with a bourgeois brush, the majority of bourgeois older white men who colonise and tumefy all over academia’s spaces gleefully adopt a “slow” moniker as they put their feet up on the backs of black women, and so on. Rather than allowing yet another progressive, activist, practice to become colonised by the hegemon, we need to find systemic solutions to overcome overwork, micromanagement, manipulation, psychological torture and stress in academia, reimagining “slow,” perhaps, not just as a personal practice but as a radical critique of capitalist values in higher education.
Short thoughts for a fast day,
Aidan.
Berg, M., & Seeber, B. K. (2016). The slow professor: Challenging the culture of speed in the academy. University of Toronto Press. ↩︎
Mountz, A., Bonds, A., Mansfield, B., Loyd, J., Hyndman, J., Walton-Roberts, M., … Curran, W. (2015). For Slow Scholarship: A Feminist Politics of Resistance through Collective Action in the Neoliberal University. ACME: An International Journal for Critical Geographies, 14(4), 1235–1259. https://doi.org/10.14288/acme.v14i4.1058 ↩︎
Martell, L. (2014). The Slow University: Inequality, Power and Alternatives. Forum Qualitative Sozialforschung Forum: Qualitative Social Research, 15(3). https://doi.org/10.17169/fqs-15.3.2223 ↩︎
Dear friends,
Today I have some off the cuff thoughts about global heat death – revisiting an early theme (actually, the earliest in this particular incarnation of dispatches).
Yesterday I felt happy about expanding numbers of women-identifying YouTube creators – yes I still watch YouTube, I know ... who were interested in the intersection of technology and creativity – not because this is (or should be) rare, but because “in my day” the dominance of sexist men in that particular niche was incredibly overwhelming. But one of these creative sorts, you know how the algorithm goes – particularly with YouTube, a story for another post – popped up talking about creating a bespoke AI, fit for purpose if you like. As part of this video was discussion of the role of creativity and AI (re: “AI stealing all the creative work”) and, further, the rising electricity demands of the AI industry. This got me thinking of things to really truly test in my own environment.
Just recently I’ve been running a combination of tools on my Linux desktop machine – unfortunately “hamstrung” in AI land, at least, by an AMD CPU/GPU(Ryzen 9 7900X / RX 6750 XT / 32 GB DDR4) combo – to run local Large Language Models. I’m still a novice in this space, but I was more interested in the comparative time to response from, even a modest sized local model (i.e. 70b [1]), compared to commercial AI systems. I know this is a very unscientific test, but time to response on very short (“write me a poem about AI”) prompts is decent, probably around 1s. But the revelatory moment was in the massive spin up of fans and power draw from the wall (which I won’t pretend to have properly scientific figures for).
Generating a 1500 word story, basically on complete nonsense because this particular model is no where near competitive even with the free tier of ChatGPT, for instance, made my 3sqm office hot – like I’d been playing Tiny Glade for three+ hours hot. Again, anyone who knows about measuring energy efficiency, comparing apples to apples, and has an interest in genuinely benchmarking technologies against one another is flat out scrunched into a ball of cringe right now, but the purpose of this very unscientific test stands. I wanted to get a feel for time, and energy, on a machine which I control, using a data set, model, and algorithm I control. And the results of this, ignoring everything I know about streamlining, caching, using more appropriate hardware, and so on, still make me incredibly “worried” about commercial AI solutions.
I’ve shared a litany of news stories on the extreme cost on power networks that commercial AI uses – to the point where Microsoft is recommissioning a nuclear power reactor for the sole purpose of powering just some of its AI infrastructure. But until you feel the heat coming off a computer generating a three line poem about itself, it doesn’t quite feel “real”. We are seriously looking at a global power consumption footprint larger than most nations with the combined use of AI as tech bros increasingly wet themselves with excitement – and the line-go-up capitalists get their jollies by suggesting automating workers’ jobs.
This accelerationism which is lauded – and genuinely so, by capitalism and its vanguards – middle managers, for instance – is accelerating global heat death. Not to mention the continuing deep inequity in AI use, not only at an infrastructural level where resources and materials are being diverted from nations to power bourgeois CEOs email writing, but also at the use-interface. As the proletarian hype for AI dies down, something we are right in the middle of with increasingly “bored” responses to the latest AI hype, particularly from coal-face workers who have seen the hallucinations completely derail BAU, the increasing bourgeification (making up words) of AI rolls on.
Instead of using LLMs as a tool for crafting social change, we’re seeing the working class turn away from these tools. And perhaps, given their inefficiencies and inequity, rightfully so – but that won’t stop capitalists replacing you with an LLM the minute they can get it just barely passably at your “standard”. Hand in hand with the deliberate mystification of the systems and tools that make, power, and generate AI, this abstraction of workers away from the means of production is a tale as old as time in our capitalist hell.
There are genuine solutions to these problems. Running local LLMs and seeing for yourself the limitations, power use, and possibility is a start. Investing in green(er) power sources, getting involved in community projects to bring AI tools to communities, and seriously and in an activist mode debating with capitalists about the use of AI to replace humans is all a start. My fear is, not only accelerated heat death but, accelerated worker replacement into increasingly deskilled roles while a mediocre, half-baked, environmentally destructive AI takes over the creative and intellectual work of the proletariat – rapidly increasing inequity in the first world, while AI currently continues to disadvantage expropriated and poorer countries right now.
I am excited about the possibilities and capabilities of LLMs as an augmentation tool. I benefit as much as anyone from the use of ML in analysing photo libraries, telling me what plants and birds are in photos, and so on. I’m certainly not a luddite. But I think that – in conjunction with a growing awareness of how much energy these tools use, the malice of capitalists in turning machinery of production against the workers, and the unequal and problematic distribution of global resources to keep a small minority comfortable – the context is “a lot” to process. Obviously disclaimers abound about no ethical consumption under capitalism, but I think that this kind of thinking about these problems needs to happen more, and I applaud those who are having this conversation with an audience [2].
So what do you reckon? Where are we headed with these technologies? Will we be further abstracted from knowledge of systems and tools than we are now? Will schools start teaching kids how to design their own AI? Or will we keep doing stupid shit like banning phones? I’m not hopeful that we’ll see radical shift in the way technology is taught and used, because after all it is anti-capitalist to believe in access, knowledege, and understanding – and damn that’s sad.
With trepidation,
Aidan