“Angels of History”: Andy Battle on our relationship to the buried past and a collective future beyond the catastrophic present

In his piece for The Boston Review, titled “Angels of History,” Common Notions editor and historian Andy Battle reflects on a philosophy of history usable for our struggles to come, where “the past holds the key to escaping a future whose promise is paralysis and death.” Glimpsed from a moment resurrected from seventies British public television when avant-garde film briefly surfaced and interrupted the flow of current events and mass communication, “Angels of History” stokes Walter Benjamin’s notion of “a secret agreement between past generations and the present one,” to conjure the myriad spirits and demons of the destituent processes at work against the present order and its negation of the past and our future.

"Benjamin, his life cut short by the Holocaust, never visited the United States. Still, the philosophy of history he articulated in the midst of catastrophe resonates in meaningful ways with the Black radical tradition as imagined by writers like Cedric Robinson and Robin D. G. Kelley, a tradition that has always germinated in the fields and in the streets before it is codified and written down. What they share is an embrace of historical consciousness against capitalism’s obligation to erase the past, a series of carefully tended connections with the traditions of the oppressed, a suspicion of what is glibly called “progress,” an awareness that prophecy is a political act, and an unembarrassed emphasis on the negative moment—a “total rejection” of an intolerable condition, a revolt that guarantees nothing but liberation, even if that comes as death. Too rigid an emphasis on blueprints and solutions—on guarantees—can concede too much to the oppressor and obscure the way in which the negative moment is also a positive one. Binaries are illusions. Weakening the police strengthens the forces of care."

Click here to read the full article, “Angels of History,” The Boston Review (April 1, 2021) by Andy Battle.

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Marcello Tarì's English-language Debut There Is No Unhappy Revolution Out Now : )

“In There Is No Unhappy Revolution, as if revolution were the only happiness we might pursue, Marcello Tarì makes a powerful case for the persistent questioning and existential interruption that accompanies that pursuit, and fuels it, and constitutes and ruptures its vagrant, open end.” —Fred Moten, author of In the Break: The Aesthetics of the Black Radical Tradition

“It is hard today to escape the perception that financial violence and fascism are suffocating every possibility of happiness . . . There Is No Unhappy Revolution shows a possible way out from this despair.” —Franco “Bifo” Berardi, author of Futurability: The Age of Impotence and the Horizon of Possibility 

Common Notions is pleased to announce the publication of the first book in English by Marcello Tarì. Known for his Italian translation of the Invisible Committee’s The Coming Insurrection and his writings in French and Italian on Autonomia and other radical movements of the 1970s, with There Is No Unhappy Revolution he offers a powerful guide to the place of destituent thought in the revolutionary task of making life worth living.

Over a hundred years after the October Revolution, amidst our current civilizational crisis, is it still possible to think and build communism? Yes, Tarì responds, provided we radically rethink the tradition of revolutionary movements that have followed one century to another. At the heart of this rethinking is not the question of how to constitute a new order of things, but rather how to interrupt (or destitute)—on a juridical, ethical, and existential level—the present which “trap[s] within it a past that does not pass and a future that does not arrive.” Get Your Copy : )

Tarì insists that revolution requires that we learn how to overthrow the ruling order without establishing a new one. In short, it means “destituting” power and pursuing new “forms of life” outside of the suffocating grasp of capital and the state. These forms of life are not goals for the future, but emerge from a now that is all there ever is. They are forged in struggles that refuse the present order of things with a powerful and incessant “No!” Forged in struggles like those that tore across the United States last summer, and will continue to spread, whose relationships to the resurgent social-democratic movement in this country remain to be settled.

In There Is No Unhappy Revolution, Tarì seeks to grasp the unprecedented and disruptive content of contemporary revolutionary moments while, at the same time, charting a discontinuous and fragmentary theoretical line that runs from Walter Benjamin and Bertolt Brecht to Giorgio Agamben and the Invisible Committee. Offering both a militant philosophy and a philosophy of militancy, Tarì writes, “by communism, we mean the real movement that destitutes the present state of things.”

Get Your Copy : )

“Destitution always opens up a becoming. What remains of the militant is the practice of a form of life that lives life as incompatible with the world as it is. The work of their existence is to render our present reality impossible.” 


More Praise : ) 

“A bold and inquisitive attempt to rethink militancy and revolution through the paradigm of destituent power, outside of any progressive investment in governing the present. Beyond the end of communism, Tarì sketches the figure of a communism of the end, threading its way through contemporary insurgencies and unmanageable forms of life.” 
—Alberto Toscano, author of Fanaticism: On the Uses of an Idea

“A longtime militant, fellow traveler of the Invisible Committee, and author of one of the best books on Autonomia, Tarì’s work offers the fullest exploration to date of the concept of destitution.” 
—Ill Will Editions

“When we write of ‘power,’ we do not refer to any eternal substance or idea, but to that which is before, around, and within us, i.e., the power of capital. This is what we know, this is what we live, this why we fight.”

Marcello Tarì is a militant researcher of contemporary struggles and movements. He is author of numerous essays and books in French and Italian including Il ghiaccio era sottile: Per una storia dell’autonomia and Autonomie!: Italie, les années 1970, and is the translator of The Invisible Committee’s The Coming Insurrection. Marcello Tarì has lived in the last few years between France and Italy. There Is No Unhappy Revolution is his first book published in English.

Get Your Copy : )

Frame Up of Indian Political Prisoners Revealed

For Immediate Release

As Common Notions publishes the new edition of Colors of the Cage (2021) by political prisoner and human rights activist Arun Ferreira, news is breaking that makes it abundantly clear that, just like his earlier arrests, his current detention is based on falsehood and political repression.

Breaking news in the Washington Post

A Washington Post exclusive report reveals that key evidence in the Bhima Koregaon case being used to hold Arun Ferreira, Rona Wilson, Sudha Bharadwaj, Stan Swamy, Varavara Rao, and other activists in prison has been planted by malware. According to reporters Niha Masih and Joanna Slater, Arsenal Consulting, a digital forensics firm, discovered that malware was used to put incriminating letters on activist Rona Wilson’s laptop prior to his arrest.

“This is one of the most serious cases involving evidence tampering that Arsenal has ever encountered,” the report said, citing the “vast timespan”—nearly two years—between the time the laptop was first compromised and the moment the attacker delivered the last incriminating document.

This news follows appeals by numerous human rights groups and advocates including UN High Commissioner for Human Rights Michelle Bachelet, UN Special Rapporteur Prof. Mary Lawlor, the American Bar Association, and President of the Jesuit Conference Fr. Timothy P. Kesicki for the release of these activists and, in particular, the release of 83 year-old Fr. Stan Swamy who suffers from Parkinson’s disease. The Daily Beast reports, Swamy “is the oldest person to be accused of terrorism in India. To him, the arrest came as no surprise.… As a prominent human rights campaigner who has spent decades fighting for the rights of marginalized and Indigenous people (Adivasis), Swamy was the latest arrest in a sprawling 2018 case that has seen 16 human rights activists accused of being in league with the CPI (Maoist).”

Judges have not responded to these appeals and have rejected bail applications for the activists—even as thousands of prisoners have been released due to fears of COVID outbreaks. Fortunately, Fr. Swamy writes that his care is being provided by co-accused prisoners Arun Ferreira, Varavara Rao, and Vernon Gonsalves, who are being held in an adjacent cell, and by his cellmates: 

“During the day, when cells and barracks are opened, we meet with each other. From 5:30pm to 6:00am and 12 noon to 3:00pm, I am locked up in my cell, with two inmates. Arun assists me to have my breakfast and lunch. Vernon helps me with bath. My two inmates help out during supper, in washing my clothes and give massage to my knee joints. They are from very poor families. Please remember my inmates and my colleagues in your prayers. Despite all odds, humanity is bubbling in Taloja prison.”

This solidarity among prisoners is something that Ferreira returns to again and again in Colors of the Cage.

In fact, this solidarity is able to transcend prison walls. For example, in December 2020, on World Farmer’s Day Ferreira and his co-accused engaged in a hunger strike in support of protesting farmers’ demands that the Indian government repeal new laws that would deregulate agricultural markets and consequently devastate their livelihoods. As Ferreira writes of another hunger strike in Colors of the Cage, “Like the poor of our country, we had limited choice regarding the form of our protest.”

Colors of the Cage introduces Arun Ferreira to many who may not be familiar with him. In his introduction to the new edition Sidhartha Deb writes, “Ferreira’s subjection to torture and incarceration, however, was provoked by no more than a sense of injustice at the state of the world. A middle-class Catholic fired by liberation theology and Marxism as a student, his life as he describes it before incarceration consists of organizing in support of the deprived, invisible majority of India—villagers, slumdwellers, peoples of the Northeast and Kashmir. His unforgivable crime was to be opposed to both the neoliberal project opening up India for foreign capital as well as to India’s national project of subjugating everyone different from the Hindu elite.” 

In May 2007, Arun Ferreira was picked up at a railway station in western India, detained by the court, and condemned to prison for an expanding list of crimes: criminal conspiracy, murder, possession of arms, and rioting, among others added during his detention. In one of the most notorious prisons in India, he was constantly abused and tortured. Over the next several years as he began to write Colors of the Cage, each of the ten cases slapped against him fell apart. At long last, acquitted of all charges, he prepared to reunite with his family. As he exited the prison, moments away from freedom, he was rearrested by plainclothes police. He never got to glimpse his family waiting for him just outside the prison gates. 

Ferreira refused to surrender hope and continued to fight for his freedom. He succeeded and walked out of the prison in 2014 and then used his prison experience to become a lawyer for other political activists. In 2018, he was arrested once again in what is shaping up to be a major frame up. His next hearing is February 28th. As he continues to fight for justice, his memoir and his life are timely reminders that across the globe policing and incarceration are institutions in desperate need of being dismantled.


Order Colors of the Cage in paperback or ebook
Follow Arun Ferreira’s case at Front Line Defenders

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What Is Pop-Fascism? On Trump’s Counterrevolution

By Marcello Tarì

Translated by veggiemilk [at] riseup.net

This essay originally appeared in French on lundimatin

Translation originally published on It’s Going Down

Marcello Tarì penned the following essay in June 2019. We republish it here as it anticipates several themes of his first book in English, There Is No Unhappy Revolution: The Communism of Destitution, out from Common Notions in March.—Ed.


Matteo Salvini

Matteo Salvini

I write this in a country where Mikkel Bolt Rasmussen’s book, Trump’s Counter-Revolution, was recently translated and published by Les Éditions Divergences and has appeared as a valuable diagnosis for our time. These days, Italy is of particular interest to those observing the far-right in European government. The Minister of the Interior, Matteo Salvini, who seems as though he may as well be the head of the Italian government, or at least the weight that tips the political scale, is the perfect expression of the Trumpian model that Rasmussen examines in his text: the manner of self-presentation, the keywords, the use of police as the primary means of governing the population, contempt for formal rules, unscrupulous use of social media, interventionism on everything and anything, racism as the only form of weaponized propaganda, or nearly so, the anti-elite rhetoric—all elements which effectively unify far-right political action on a global scale.

Anti-migrant raids done by small groups of Italian neo-fascists seem like folklore when compared to governmental action, which has as its goal to enact a perfectly capitalist and democratic project. All of the old rhetoric of the former neo-fascism—the heroes, the eternal values, the natural community, the anti-modern mysticism, etc.—will have become almost completely outdated in the face of this ultra-fascist capitalism. This goes for anti-fascist rhetoric too, needless to say.

From the United States to France, Brazil to Poland, Italy to England, a ferocious counterrevolutionary force has appeared armed with an agenda, a vision, and a common language—this is to say, a global strategy. These things are often difficult to perceive as being necessary in anti-systemic movements, and they are clearly lacking in the declining left. This is one of the reasons that fascist capitalism seems to be picking up speed everywhere we look.

Nevertheless, the most interesting part of Rasmussen’s book does not consist of demonstrating evidence of the arrival of a certain “late fascism” but, for one, in the analysis of this governmental affirmation of the extreme right as an essential element of global counterrevolution, this is to say a reaction to the cycle of movements of 2010–2011—from Occupy, the Arab Spring and the Indignados to those of Black Lives Matter—and, also, in not separating the question of fascism from that of democracy.

The question, in particular, to which I think this book provides answers is the following: what happened in order for the powerful movements and insurrections which covered the globe at the beginning of the 2010s to have been seemingly overrun and then, honestly, defeated by the dark wave that’s drowning us all?

The fact that the author, in addition to being a militant communist, is an art historian is not unrelated to his capacity to interpret the new aestheticization of politics as essential to the implementation of social fascism around the world. Let us refer to the chapter “Politics of the Image,” where he arrives at this conclusion: “The image is not solely a medium, it has become the substance of contemporary politics” (p. 53). On the other hand, it’s a typical error of the left to regard the obvious coarseness [grossièreté] of the aesthetic-media operation of the pop far-right (if Trump uses televised models of entertainment, Salvini uses those of the bar conversation or football ultras) with the eyes of a moralist, believing oneself to be more intelligent, refined, civilized, or ultimately more “aesthetically appealing” [beau] than the likes of Trump, Salvini, Orban or Bolsonaro, instead of thinking about the radical politicization of the aesthetic as an indispensable weapon in the current configuration of this historical conflict.

In a letter Karl Korsch wrote to Brecht, he said that when it comes down to it, the Nazi Blitzkrieg was no more than the energy of the left concentrated and then released by other means: this energy which in the 1920s seemed to be spreading and pushing towards a Europe of [communist] Councils, which ten years later had been redirected and found itself used by its adversaries, who would launch the global working class into a gigantic and fratricidal “material battle” that would not be able to achieve any other end than the spiritual and material annihilation of the working class as it was, from which came the defeat of every revolutionary perspective of the twentieth century. At the moment of the defeat, Walter Benjamin had to acknowledge, much to his dismay, that the fascists seemed to understand better than the revolutionary left the rules which govern popular emotions and feelings, affects which today are still regarded by every nuance of the left with an air of superiority, if not outright disdain, and they always prefer “rational,” “common sense,” “progressive,” or “civic” arguments, which is to say all that which not only fails to convince practically anyone among the working class, but which, on the contrary, generates the opposite effect of producing even more hatred and resentment.

It is this which produced Trump, who “partially recuperated Occupy’s analysis concerning the financial crisis and bank bailouts” (p. 43), while in Italy, popular hatred of the elites was captured and redirected in the war against migrants, the Romani, and the ticks (ticks [zecche] is a name given to activists in Italian social centers). All of this has the backdrop of the obvious contempt of all those who feel the need to oppose the institutions of the European Union, which are destined, for better or for worse, to be transformed by “sovereignism”. In Brazil, the left’s corruption, its faith in the economy, its pretense to know how to govern capitalism better than others, its chronic distrust of autonomous movements, and, it goes without saying, its anti-revolutionary vocation have delivered the country an executioner of Bolsonaro’s caliber. We could go down the path of demonstrating this having happened in many other countries. The movements, for their part, have missed the kairos [kairos is an Ancient Greek word meaning the right, critical, or opportune moment] for transforming their power into a proper revolutionary force and a good part of this now returns against them. From this we gather a sort of political law which is of personal concern to us: in periods of significant change, each error of interpretation, each error of underestimation, each moment lacking in courage, every hesitation in the unfolding of a potentially revolutionary moment, contributes in an increase in the the power of the enemy, of fascism. The corollary of this law is that we must be done with every leftist affect which inhabits us.

Another important element that Rasmussen brings to our attention is how Trump, faced with the metropolitan youth of Occupy and the African Americans of Black Lives Matter, knew how to mobilize white workers and employees who lived outside or on the margins of urban centers, who suffered the hardest blows of the economic crisis that began in 2008. In this way “Trump protested the protest, the objective of which was to violently push back any possibility of changing the system from top to bottom” (p. 41). Similarly, this is how justified rage against the metropolis was in many countries subdued and used by those who have always controlled the very same metropolises. We cannot let this happen again, which is why another corollary is that we must do away with the illusion, cultivated by the left, of the reappropriation of the metropolis or its alternative management: the metropolis is unreformable, uninhabitable, and taken hold of by a process of becoming-fascist henceforth evident to those who clearly see the reality of the situation. When we think of the Yellow Vests’ France and their anti-metropolitan vocation, it’s monumental that they’ve succeeded in avoiding a maneuver similar to those of Trump or Salvini, even if we haven’t yet seen the final outcome of the situation—again, even when it comes to the Yellow Vests, the political rule goes that if we don’t meaningfully and deeply strike, fascism will have every opportunity to use the force built up by the movement. If Rasmussen explains how the Trump effect succeeded in producing itself before the critique of structural racism brought by Black Lives Matter was able to be combined with a challenge to the capitalist mode of production, then, in France, one should bet on the combination of social contestation, anti-metropolitanism, and ecological critique before Power can cut communication between the different tendencies which, effectively, could just as likely develop into a broad revolutionary complex endowed with a major ability to strike as to become diverted and separated into several counter-revolutionary forces.

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We can thus not allow ourselves any optimism, and, to the contrary, as Benjamin wisely said, “to organize pessimism” is in these moments the only reasonable political motto there is. A new avant-garde that combines the ecstatic euphoria of revolt with revolutionary discipline must be born and allow us to “exit” [sortir]. The only art that counts is that of the exit, as Marc’O [a French playwright] told us a few days ago, in a perfectly surrealist style (on the necessity of a new avant-garde, refer to another recent text of M. B. Rasmussen, After the Great Refusal, published not without reason at the same time as the book on Trump). And I believe that this time it will be an avant-garde that turns its back on the future and directs its gaze to the bottom.

What is also particularly important in Rasmussen’s book is the discussion on the category of fascism as a current topic. Putting aside all of the false debates that will proclaim, among other things, that “fascism has returned” or that “there is no Hitler or Mussolini, not a single brown or black shirt to justify such an analysis,” the author treats fascism as any other ideological current (in the same way as socialism, anarchism, or liberalism have a history that changes them over time), and, consequently, in addition to presenting its local specificities and different ways of manifesting itself, fascism is not reducible to a single model, not even during the period between the two world wars, for that matter. This is why the swastika and fasces [fascist symbol of a bundle of sticks] have been replaced by Trump’s baseball hat and Salvini’s graphic t-shirts [sweats], and the difference between the formerly widespread portraits of the Leader versus having their faces and words on our screens 24/7. The only historical constant of fascism is found in the appeal to an imaginary community, native to the country, which identifies with the nation and the Leader who represents it, or, in substance, an authoritarian ethno-nationalism which expresses the desire, today as it has before, to oppose any means by which a revolutionary movement could emerge that would finally do away with capitalism.

Beyond all of this and the depth of the analysis of Trumpian America, Rasmussen offers us a crucial reflection on the question of democracy: “Fascism is not the opposite of democracy: it emerges from, believes in, and triumphs in its name when a crisis requires it to restore order and prevent a revolutionary alternative. Fascism is not an anomaly, but an inherent possibility in every democratic regime” (p. 134). This is why all efforts to oppose it with a democratic-antifascist front, from liberals to anarchists, are destined to fail. Furthermore, Giorgio Agamben already noted a few years ago that emergency laws announced by contemporary democracy are more hostile to liberty than those of historical fascism, and it is the likes of Trump and Salvini who don’t hesitate to define themselves as the most fervent defenders of the democratic system (thanks to, among other things, the fact that they were elected, as Hitler was during the time of the Weimar Republic). And if it’s true, as Mario Tronti wrote, that it’s democracy which vanquished and annihilated the working class, we cannot understand how it is still possible to believe that democracy can save the world from the ongoing catastrophe. It’s for this reason that Rasmussen concludes that the only alternative to fascism is one which aims for the destitution of a democracy that cannot be separated from capitalism.

“Sortir, sortir et encore sortir!” est notre seul mot d’ordre.

[“Exit, exit and exit still!” is our only motto.]



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Marcello Tarì is a “barefoot” researcher of contemporary struggles and movements. There Is No Unhappy Revolution, his first book in English, is out from Common Notions in March.