Our Struggle Series: What Is and Isn't Politically Real

Our Struggle is a militant theoretical series dedicated to dismantling the illusions that pass for politics in our time. It refuses the comfort of spectacle, symbolic resistance, or shallow identity performance. Instead, it seeks to build a strategic framework grounded in material conditions, emotional clarity, and the sober recognition that we are, in fact, at war—against entrenched power, liberal containment, and the internalized habits that dull insurgency before it begins.

This installment presents the first and second attacks in the series. The first attack targets the conflation of political activity with political realness. The second attack critiques bad hope—the culture of aesthetic, quasi-real activism that lacks research, coordination, and material consequence. Together, these attacks clear the ground for insurgent, disciplined struggle.

The introduction to this series is available here.

Before making clear what is and isn’t politically real, and diving in to our first attack, it is important to establish that what is politically real is not exhausted by political practice. Of course, what is politically real can be practiced—but so too can individualist anarchists and centrists organize rallies and engage in political activities. What they cannot do is engage with given circumstances and factors. Therefore, while they may participate in political activity as individuals, as political thinkers they are—unironically—doing what performance artist Vermin Love Supreme does. Vermin has stated that if elected president of the united states, he will pass a law requiring people to brush their teeth. He has campaigned on a platform of zombie apocalypse awareness, time travel research, and the promise of a free pony for every american. That has more potential for emerging as a politically real framework because—at least in the case of ponies—it deals with the possible.

A detailed assault on centrism and individualist anarchism will follow, but for now it is sufficient to note that the naivete of a centrist who believes in balancing oppression and non-oppression within a political landscape is akin to someone picking up a yin-yang symbol and saying, “This is the answer.” This shows that such centrists are not concerned with the real, but with the symbolic. And as for individualist anarchists—well, they certainly exist. That’s the gist of their program: “I exist, and all others should too, untethered by external elements.” But I digress.

Now, engaging with given circumstances and factors through political practice does indeed make something political—but practice executed in response to given conditions should not have pragmatic and realistic ends, but rather pragmatic and realistic means. This is because while realpolitik is indeed a real politic, during the Cold War the united states often supported authoritarian regimes that were human rights violators in order to theoretically secure the greater national interest of regional stability. This practice continued after the Cold War, raising the importance of primary, secondary, and even tertiary pragmatic and realistic means.

The notion of the “pragmatic” itself demands scrutiny. The Mystery Gang-style pursuit of all information, encouraged by Henry Kissinger and his devotees like Joshua Cooper Ramo, is largely based on what is determined to be pragmatic. Often, this is realism in the Hobbesian "war of all against all" sense—readily conceded as pragmatic. A logical consequence of danger is a narcissistic drive to preserve one’s life, but sometimes the drawbridge falls into the moat, the enemy is present but largely overestimated, and now a solution must be found to get out of the mess of one’s own defenses. Of course, a truly pragmatic solution would have prevented the situation in the first place—but a “sadness of all with all,” a depression born from material suffering, often accompanies the narcissism of realpolitik as practiced.

A real politic is incomplete without depression, just as a developing baby’s mind constantly navigates between narcissism and depression. The importance of moral imperatives arising from material suffering will be explored later alongside the critical role of public memory—but now it is time to move forward.

In light of the distinction between political practice and political realness, we must delve deeper into the notion of the politically real. Understanding political realness goes beyond mere engagement in political activities. It requires a comprehensive examination of the complex circumstances and factors shaping a given political landscape. Only by exploring the essence of political realness can we effectively navigate the intricacies of the political realm.

Understanding political realness is crucial not only for navigating the political realm but also for assessing what is politically possible. The politically possible includes the practical boundaries and constraints within which political actors operate. It requires examining the prevailing political climate, public opinion, institutional structures, and power dynamics. Exploring the interplay between political realness and the politically possible allows us to determine how change and progress can be pursued in the current political context.

The prevailing political environment in the unites states of america is exceedingly conservative. This might not be apparent in the full spectrum of political activity, but it is evident in terms of deviation. Even on the left, there remains immense pressure to conform—not just in method but in emotional register. To protest correctly. To be civil. To pose with signs and smile for selfies. To perform.

For example, at the Las Cruces rally held in solidarity with the Women’s March on Washington after trump’s first election victory, one could see what appeared to be political engagement. Protesters like Jackie Miller carried signs equating trumpism with fascism. Others, like Eleni Philippou, analyzed structural factors like patriarchy and whiteness behind trump’s rise. Anger was present, yes—but often filtered through appeals to civility, unity, and hope. When asked to speak to future generations living under a potential fascist regime, most responses leaned toward apology or abstract resistance: “We’re sorry, we blew it.” “Never give up.” “Resist.”

This is the problem when political practice is mistaken for political realness. Holding a sign with a swastika beside trump's name or snapping a photo at a rally might register as dissent in a performative sense, but what makes dissent politically real is how it engages with concrete conditions. Does it respond to the actual violence of the state—or merely reaffirm the acceptable boundaries of protest?

Activist Lucas Herndon noted this when he said that real resistance would occur not just in marches, but in legal battles, courtrooms, and sustained demands to elected officials. Yet even this realism, while pragmatic, sits within a framework of constraint. Moira and Daniel Moga emphasized peaceful protest, but acknowledged that violence, though undesirable, may not always be avoidable if initiated by the state. As conditions worsen, the means-versus-ends distinction collapses. Nonviolence becomes anachronistic if the state has already committed to violent repression.

This leads us deeper into political realness. One masked protester at the J20 demonstration punched fascist richard spencer in the face while wearing black bloc. That act was not performative—it was material and viscerally real. It forced confrontation with the limits of acceptable resistance. That punch stirred more debate and fear than rows of protest signs. It showed that sometimes rage is rational, and peace is its own form of complicity.

When I asked **** *********, a former editor at The GroundUp, why many protesters responded to abuse with politeness or avoided making space for rage, **** said: “People don’t like to go beyond what is happening right now. They like to live in the moment.” In other words, they prefer symbolic action in the present over materially consequential deviation that could fracture the consensus of polite liberal dissent.

This feedback loop of acceptable protest reflects not political realness, but the substitution of symbolism for structural engagement. Holding a sign is not wrong. Chanting is not futile. But stopping there—and mocking or exiling those who go further—is mistaking ritual for substance.

So, in assessing political possibility within a conservative environment, one must ask: are possibilities foreclosed by the state, or by a popular unwillingness to deviate? Political realness requires deviation. It requires emotional registers like rage, tactical ambiguity, and moral clarity—not based on appearances, but on what is risked.

Is this due to laziness? A lack of leadership? A failure to grasp what’s truly at stake? It’s difficult to answer, as much leftist theory seems to reject orderly decision-making and accountability. Leftist action suffers from this theoretical miasma. "Bannerism"—the support of distant struggles through often unrequested gestures like banner drops—is a praxis based on faulty projections. Worse than symbolic protest, a banner drop becomes an event, prompting discussion of impact while providing none. It’s a quasi-real action—bad hope.

To clarify: the theory of solidarity isn’t bad faith. But bad hope emerges in how it’s received and enacted.

Consider Anarchist Black Rose/Rosa Negra’s “sectoral analysis,” which claims no peasant sector exists in the u.s., so no analysis is needed. This ignores peasant farmworkers and the neo-feudal conditions they endure. Farmworkers have long been excluded from basic protections under the National Labor Relations Act (1935) and the Fair Labor Standards Act (1938). Reverend Richard Witt of Rural & Migrant Ministry said: “We have been part of their legacy of shame.” Margaret Gray, author of Labor and the Locavore, noted that people romanticize farmers and forget they are businesspeople.

How could an organization with such a provocative name dismiss this reality? Because the far left often lacks research. It relies on sloganeering, provocation, and performance—but delivers quasi-real action. The general public has little respect for it.

A colleague once said during a cocktail hour, “I’d respect the left more if it had data instead of quotes from Marx.”

This alienation from real political action—this theoretical disconnect—comprises our second attack.

Victory begins with analyzing the given circumstance—not planning an idealized end in mind (which we don’t have), but planning with pragmatic and realistic means.

We are not going to achieve liberation by squatting in dilapidated housing or calling an apartment a “Commune” or “Spaceship” while mining crypto. We will make money as a community in a sustainable way, gain power, eliminate opponents, establish an insurgency, and overthrow the government.

This is war. It will be fought through maneuver, firepower, sustainment, and information superiority. From Army Field Manual 3-90 (Tactics): “The tactician who employs the more appropriate tactics given the existing situation has a distinct advantage over his opponent.”

This begins with the discipline to assess whether an ideology is good or bad faith—and then to analyze its organization and action. Questions that should be asked are:

I. Questions for Determining Political Realness

Does this political action engage directly with the material conditions it claims to address?

Is this action symbolic or structural? Does it risk anything?

Does this movement or strategy deviate from hegemonic liberal norms—or is it contained within them?

Is this protest calibrated to actual power structures, or is it a ritual of appearance?

Does this ideology or tactic confront the state’s violence, or is it designed to be tolerable to the state?

Who materially benefits from this action? Is there a measurable shift in power?

Does the political practice engage with the emotional register appropriate to its conditions—i.e., does it make room for rage, despair, and defiance, not just hope and civility?

Is the protest designed around what is practically achievable, or what is structurally necessary?

II. Questions for Diagnosing Bad Hope and Quasi-Real Action

Is this tactic or campaign based on a false projection of impact (e.g., banner drops with no material follow-up)?

Is this solidarity enacted in consultation with those struggling, or is it assumed on their behalf?

Is this action part of a trend or aesthetic moment, rather than a long-term strategy?

Does the action provoke genuine dialogue or confrontation—or merely reinforce existing alliances within an ideological bubble?

Does this form of activism actually challenge the thing it claims to resist—or does it simply create spectacle?

Does this action build infrastructure, institutions, or durable capacity—or is it ephemeral?

III. Questions for Organizational and Ideological Assessment

Is the ideology rooted in material conditions or abstract idealism (e.g., individualist anarchism untethered from structural analysis)?

Does the organization undertake original research, gather data, and map systems of power—or merely echo radical slogans?

Does the theory in use accurately reflect lived realities (e.g., has it accounted for conditions like the u.s. peasant/farm worker sector)?

Is the organization willing to self-correct and abandon false assumptions when confronted with data?

Is the ideological language used to galvanize or to obscure—to clarify or to perform superiority?

Are there feedback mechanisms between those theorizing and those doing—between intellectuals and organizers?

IV. Questions for Real Strategic Planning (Tactical and Operational Realness)

Are our actions oriented toward sustained operational momentum—not just isolated performances?

Have we assessed contingencies, not just end states?

Do we possess the logistical capacity (money, labor, intel, mobility) to sustain resistance?

Have we distinguished between the aesthetic of resistance and the machinery of insurgency?

Are we prepared to win—or are we merely prepared to be seen resisting?

Do we have an understanding of what it means to outmaneuver the enemy across domains—economic, ideological, spatial, and informational?

This framework of disciplined analysis—of ideologies, organizations, and tactics—is not academic nitpicking. It is the beginning of warfighting. If our goal is not to appear radical but to win, then the process of interrogation must become habitual. These questions are not rhetorical; they are tools. They must be applied to every action, every doctrine, every alliance—because the enemy is not just external. It is internal, ideological, and often cloaked in the language of resistance while functioning as delay, dilution, or fantasy.

We do not have the luxury of mistaking effort for effect or belief for capacity. And we certainly cannot continue to allow quasi-political actors to operate under the banner of political engagement when, in fact, their frameworks reject the valuation of material power altogether.

This brings us to our third attack.

It is not merely a critique of tactics or bad hope, but of foundational beliefs—specifically, the misassociation of centrists and individualist anarchists with politics itself. What they participate in is not political in the real sense. It is quasi-politics, often closer to abstraction, calculus, or lifestyle branding than to any genuine confrontation with power. The next chapter will examine this displacement more deeply—how symbolic equilibria, personal ethics, and post-material vocabularies have replaced power analysis, and what must be done to destroy that substitution.