Voting

It seems pertinent, in this time of electionary foment here in Aotearoa, to address the current political crisis.

Here in Aotearoa we are currently being bombarded with propaganda and hysteria regarding the impending democratic ritual that justifies the authority of what is known as the New Zealand Government.  This process involves the shameless fixation on characters and either building or demolishing their esteem.  For reasons I do not understand, people respond to this process as if it was in some way meaningful.  They respond to it in exactly the same way they would  a soap-opera or a "reality" TV show in which their favourite characters may get "voted out".  These people fail to in any way to contextualise the phenomenon or to objectively consider the information they are receiving from the media.

There are others who take themselves more seriously and apply more analysis of the various candidates by discussing "issues" or "policies".  They apply a more sophisticated form of character politics by constructing what they perceive to be personal images of all the political parties based on what they promise to do after the election.  The promises, while appearing to be serious issues affecting peoples' lives, society and the environment, are as fictitious as the characters ritually raised and burned periodically because everybody knows that promises are not kept.  The political parties, in listing their post-election policies, are merely drawing an image of themselves to appeal to their particular corner of the so-called "public".  Like those who choose their favourite Idol contestant, the one with whom they can most identify, they choose their favourite political party, to define and elevate themselves, like those who say, "We won," when their favourite sports team wins.

We define ourselves and thus create boundaries.  We are supposed to place ourselves on a spectrum between left and right, to separate ourselves from the idiots or the scum on the other end of the spectrum.  Are these scum the same people we have an enjoyable conversation with until we suddenly find out who they are voting for?  Is this left-right spectrum a meaningful way of separating ourselves from our fellows?  The left-right spectrum is simply a difference in economic policy, whether the mechanisms of politics are set up in a way that channels money to those with or without resources.  It is an admission of the success of capitalism to redistribute the wealth and the moral right associated with it, or an ambivalence or lack of faith in the mechanisms of capitalism.  This in no way defines me as a person and I refuse to place myself on this spectrum.

In fact, I refuse to define myself on any of these party-politic images.  I refuse to distance myself from those around me with arbitrary boundaries imposed from above.  We are told we live in a post-colonial period, that we live in a reasonable social democracy, and that we should be grateful.

Why should I bother to vote?

In Aotearoa, perhaps more than any other English-speaking country, the indigenous people we tried to squash are in the process of reclaiming their mana, though perhaps only in relation to the rest of us, who were colonised thousands of years before the Māori.  We are all colonised and we all continue to be distanced from a direct experience of the world in which we live, instead settling for a mediated, commentated experience.  We denounce military coups and forget how our own government was established.  We imbed ourselves in an abstract and arbitrary universe in which the news media is the oracle, the economy is god and the government is the heavenly hierarchy and then we lament that our false reality is not translating successfully to our actual lives.

"The desire to live, to continue, becomes more and more indecisive, more and more phantom-like."
(Frantz Fanon, The Wretched of the Earth)

I vote because there is only one thing worse than thinking voting will change anything; thinking that not voting will change anything.  I sympathise with my friends in Australia and USA who don't bother to vote and I do vote for the very same reason.  Here in Aotearoa in 2014 we actually have someone to vote for.  I am not suggesting we will make huge political progress as a result, I am not saying that I believe in or am even aware of their stance on blah-blah 1 or blah-blah 2, but I witness, in my peripheral observation of the political process and its noisy media emanation, a modicum of integrity, a delicate and almost miraculous quality to maintain in the political arena.  While we drive full-speed towards the political failures of Australia and USA we have the opportunity to redirect the train.  We have an intelligent engagement with a political process that can still be influenced.  I would never put myself in that situation, so I can respect reasonable individuals who place themselves in the political world and, however naively or cynically, try to influence it.

My faith lies in the hope that it will collapse, and in the meantime we can only minimise damage.  It is clear that nothing of value can be achieved on a political level, and so I vote for those in whom I can see integrity, because I trust the strength of the human soul, not ground down with political dogma and heirarchy, to stand up against stupidity and violence.  Meanwhile, real change is manifested with real responsibility, in our lives, in our society, in our environment.

Strip Ourselves

I am barren with desolation.
My life is a well of emptiness with a ladder that I choose not to climb up and out of.
I am trapped in my own assumptions and conveniences.
Pity me not, but love me and desire me and invite me to foreign paradises.
Become a yearning throbbing genital of the earth and draw me in, become my lover or my confidant, exist with me in the most intense sobriety of presence.
Cry with me, become pathetic, sob into my warm body and slap me 'til I sob too.
Let our naked bodies feel exposed and safe together, let our genitals meet in calm acceptance.
And then we shall dive into the ocean and she shall take us as we are and strip us of our pretensions.
We do not enter her with togs or with surfboards to hide from her or conquer her, we allow her salty goodness to refresh us and deposit us in a sandy sunny world not entirely the same as the one we dived in from.
And then we burn our hair and our clothes in a fire of driftwood and we no longer subscribe to the shame and personality that have obscured our power most of our lives.
I am naked beneath my clothes and I am a real living human being beneath my culture.
I am hot-blooded, breathing and desiring, weeping alone and overwhelmed with the beauty of a veiled humanity before me.
I cannot rave at the masses because my sanity holds me back almost as much as my fear of arrest.
I am the masses and I am listening carefully for the secret to unlock my life from the profane time adulthood has thrust upon me.
I remember sacred time from childhood, and I have rediscovered it in the wild, in the pure wilderness of earth, in the wildman in my body and in the purity of my fellows.
How can I tell you I want to eat you without appearing as a sexual predator?
How can I tell the world I want to be eaten when I am so comfortably marginalised by my comfy social democracy?

I transform the moment I am experiencing into the eternity we all deserve.  I reject the historical crisis we have talked ourselves into as I reject the culture that has structured this conversation.  Time begins anew whenever we choose, when we celebrate the New Year, when we submit to the ocean, when we strip ourselves and walk out into the night.

from Anarchy – a novel I can't be bothered finishing

The stage was set for another democracy performance.  This elaborate and expensive play had been performed once every three years in New Zealand for many years.  It was nothing new.  And yet each and every time there was the promise of something new, something special.  The possibility that the act of democracy would elect an individual who would create profound change in our world, in our country.  An individual who would go that extra mile, who would take it further than anyone had taken it before.  Who would align with the values and the needs of the Mainstream Kiwi and our government would explode in bursts of colour and light, symbolic balloons and streamers would erupt from the beehive like a swarm of love and leadership.  But every year the country ended up with a spineless slug, of sufficient matter to fit into any square hole or ergonomic office chair that happened to already be lying around in parliament.  They were the anti-revolutionists.  Heading, with every passing year, as New Zealanders values become broader and more open-minded due to inevitable creep of globalisation and secularism, towards centrism; the entire political spectrum shrinking into a dash and readily becoming a full stop.  A This-Is-What-You-Get end to the wonderful ancient invention known as democracy.  Is the inevitable end to democracy a slow but certain self-consumption?  A swallowing of one's self?

The billboards stood tall and strong like meercats staked to the ground.  At every corner they proudly display the smiling faces of their digestible candidates

I walked down the street and I saw one of those fucking political signs and I said, “Goddamn politicians, make me pay for their propaganda.”  It looked like that thin plasticky shit so I thought I could just yank it off the wood, but it cut my fuckin' hands up and I ended up leaving the stupid thing, completely attached.  And some stupid old lady was staring at me like I was defiling a religious image of Her Majesty Mary of Nazareth or something and I just glared at her like, “what?” and she just kept walking, like pretending she hadn't been giving me the evils and I stared up at that big billboard with that smiling rich prick in the suit and I said, “I'm gonna fuckin' destroy you and your shit-eating grin.”

            When I got home I told my flatmate Albert about it and he said, “So?” and I said, “Doesn't it piss you off?” and he said, “No.  Why should it?”  And I walked away in a huff.  I live with such morons that I just can't stand it.  If they could at least figure out how to do the dishes properly I wouldn't mind, but even that's a big challenge.  Sometimes I have visions of blowing the back of their heads off with a handgun and then I wonder whether I could get away with it, but I never come up with a good enough plan and I always get bored pretty quickly cause I guess if I was going to shoot someone it would be fucking Winston Peters or John Key.  Don Brash saved his own skin getting out of politics fast enough.  But if I saw him on the street he'd get the hiding of his life.

            I called my mum 'cause I wanted to have a proper conversation with someone and she just told me that we have left-wing and we have right-wing and you may agree with one or the other, but we're lucky that they both balance each other out and what we are left with represents all New Zealanders.  I told her what if you think they're all bloodsucking leeches with as much moral power as a store-brand battery and how can you vote for little electronic bunnies that have no personality and no commitment and have to be wound up by months of public funding and she said, “What?”  I decided to get literal and get eloquent and try to speak in my mother's language and so I asked her what she thought of the concept of anarchy.  “It's an absurd idea,” she told me.  “For starters, how does a country run without any organisation or laws?  For second starters, how can anarchy be a concept and how can it be a political system because as soon as it becomes organised it ceases to be anarchy and without any sort of organisation how is it going to overcome the firmly established institution of democracy?”

            “I'm not about to form an anarchist group, Mum.  I'm just exploring possibilities that offer us a little more than democracy has.”

            “It's futile.”

            “It's futile.  You just have no imagination.  The times they are a-changin', Mum.  Democracy has left us with nothing but debt and depression.”

            “Oh, what've you been reading, Henry.”

            “Nothing, you know I don't read.  We've just been having classes at uni.  Everyone's anti-democracy at the moment.  You can get 500 bucks if you set up a club and this guy Jonas wants to set up an anarchy club and he said he's aware of the irony, he wants the money and he wants to stir some shit.”

            “Language.”

            “I'm just saying what he said.”

Jonas got his $500 and the Anarchists Anti-Club was formed.  Surprisingly for Jonas, people actually turned up to the first meeting.  Many were long-haired, scruffy and unshaven.  Wore dark clothes, slumped shoulders.  Others were well-dressed and confident, with a conspiratorial gleam in their eyes.  The first meeting was not very anarchic, which went along with Jonas's sense of irony, as it was largely taken up by the detailed rantings of an old man who claimed to be part of a failed communist party take-over of parliament.  He then moved to a commune on Waiheke Island and was disappointed to find it as pointless and irritating as flatting with way too many people who wouldn't do the dishes or replace the toilet paper.  He was, at 65, ready for some anarchy.  He was studying again because his wife left him.  These three interweaving stories were the feature attraction of Anarchists Anti-Clubs first successful gathering.  On the way out a giggling and apparently stoned individual kicked over some chairs and drew an anarchists “A” on one of the tables with a vivid.  If the details of this event were at all interesting, I would go into them.  Henry attended, curious.  “Organisation is so boring,” he commented to his girlfriend Michelle on the way out.  “I knooow,” she conceded.

End the British occupation of Australia

Less than 300 years ago Australia was invaded and colonised by the British without regard to the people already living on the land. The British Crown obstinately instigated a government for a land which does not belong to them and through no other means but force and time is the government recognised today as the primary authority on this continent. There is a natural authority which is all-pervasive and undeniable, however not economically relevant. There is a human authority that is thousands of years old, developing with the planet's oldest living human culture. This is also not considered relevant because it does not strengthen the control and economic dominance of the regime.

In this enlightened age when we have massive institutions like the United Nations to make sure human rights are supported by other massive institutions with excessive amounts of power we recognise that it is not acceptable, not legal, to invade and settle any land, dispossessing, dislocating and destroying its people. However the Australian government is allowed to stay because it will be too difficult to hand the authority back to the people who possess it naturally. It has been 230 years and this institution is now an established and permanent part of this country. The previous authority barely lasted 100,000 years.

We are as arrogant as we have ever been and now is the time not to make public apologies but to withdraw the illegal occupation of this land and return the authority to the people who have walked this land for thousands of years, the people who respect and understand this land, the people who belong to this land. Whether our family has been here for five generations, hundreds of generations or we arrived yesterday, this is our world and we deserve to be here. However, we have no right, legally or morally, to then impose European law on a continent in the Pacific and use this arbitrary illogical law, which clearly does not work because it requires Police and prisons to implement it, to intimidate, control and disempower people.

Recently I worked in the cherry capital of Australia, Young, labouring in the major industry of the town, picking cherries. We were received with warmth and curiosity by the locals, contempt and suspicion by the police. We heard plenty of anecdotal evidence to back up our experience that every year when many people come into Young to pick cherries for $0.70/kilogram they are targeted and harassed by the police, who converge on the town from surrounding areas for the picking season. Our experience was of being threatened and fined by the police for committing the heinous crimes of swimming naked and not wearing a seatbelt. It is easy to recognise the deep sickness in any institution by simply observing their behaviour. The government-funded gang known as Police have targeted and intimidated economically-supportive international travellers in one particular case in Young, presumably because of the cultural diversity and sense of chaos we bring with us.

Aside from the obvious overwhelming importance of the economy, the government's responsibility is to maintain a static obedient European capitalist monoculture here in the Pacific. Any threat to this monoculture must be policied and Policed out of existence. We are not able to maintain, let alone explore and enjoy, some of the oldest and richest human cultures on this planet because it doesn't reinforce the quasi-European monoculture that we are trying to enforce and maintain at the expense of everything and anything.

We should count ourselves lucky that we live in an age of democracy and not anarchy, capitalism and not survival, regulation and not chaos. How can we possibly survive in this world if we are forced to depend upon the land, if we are forced into a culture that is fluid and dynamic? If we do not heavily regulate this land and enforce these regulations with threats of imprisonment, people will die everywhere. We will die.

What could possibly be more of a threat to our noble desperation for civilised mind-control and wage-slavery than a nomadic people who don't wear clothes or live in houses? What can we sell them if they don't recognise the concept of ownership and they eat insects and other non-processed non-packaged non-marketed foods?

God help all of us who subscribe to a democracy that must be enforced by Police.