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Granad(a) Collective, "On Décapitalisme"

"On Décapitalisme" Granad(a) Collective

I. gravity is the first law of force that is inscribed into our bodies. grammar is the second. social war is the third and self management is the fourth.

II. how do we decapitate capitalism? by cutting of its head. a rhizomatic internet devoid of its tags, a sentence with a lower-case beginning. an always emergent discourse without a title. decentralised institutions that become constellations of extitutions. deindividuated bodies in acéphalous collectives.

III. an “I” that is always decapitalised. we own no proper nouns just as i do not want to own you and you do not want to own me. only the Structures that we imagine to still be standing retain their brand names and ownership capital. structures that must be decapitalised and torn down.

IV. no longer anarchists or socialists or communists or marxists or situationists or nihilists or new hegelians or nietzscheans or surrealists. no longer any ‘ists’ or ‘-ans’ or ‘ishes’ or ‘ics’ and no longer any national identities. no more hyphens hugging our fragmented sense of self identification, only outstretched arms.

V. in english, we become we. en français, nous devenons l’on, ou simplement ‘on’. en espagnol, nos convertimos en nosotr@s, de-generad@s. «في العربي، نصبح نحن» and so on, in the manner of polylingual subway advertisements that implore you to ¡speak english like a native! we are not born into language but Institution inseminates it into us.

VI. we are many multiplicitous voices and we are one schizophrenic voice. when we listen, we can’t hear ourselves. we are deterritorialised mouths on hysterically anxious ribcages. we suspect an uncapitalism would resemble the uncommunism of totalitarian regimes. we escape the binary of blank and unblank; we decapitalise through de, not re, for what must come has not happened before. we destroy our discourse, we de-negate, we de-claim time and space.

VII. cycles of seven. when writing first came about it was magical - a telepathic spectacle of ideas and desires for whose who could not read. now many of us read but can no longer hear each other but pull at loose threads in the weaving of solidarity. writing’s secret fifth wall has been been breached; we must now rip a hole in its fabric to fold it in on itself.