There are three million species of animals living in the tropical rain forests, and one of them, the red fire ant, lives underground, under constant threat of annihilation from flash floods. Nature doesn’t care. If a species wants to survive, it has to prove it deserves to. When the floods come, the fire ants hold on to each other, creating a living raft that can float until the water recedes. Months, if necessary. So how does a species figure something like that out? Instinct? Trial and error? Was there one fire ant who was being swept away by the rushing water… and grabbed on to another ant, only to find that together they could float? What if you were the one who knew what needed to be done… but you had no words? How do you make the others understand? How do you call for help?
Human beings are not the strongest species on the planet. We’re not the fastest, or maybe even the smartest. The one advantage we have is our ability to cooperate… to help each other out. We recognize ourselves in each other, and are programmed for compassion, for heroism, for love. And those things make us stronger, faster… and smarter. It’s why we’ve survived. It’s why we even want to.
Famous anarchist of Bulgarian origin. After primary school in Bucharest he adhered to socialist ideas through high school, then to anarchism after reading Kropotkin’s pamphlet “An Appeal To The Young”. Paraskev Stoyanov is known as the forerunner of Romanian anarchism, but also played an influential role on anarchist movements in France, Switzerland, Italy, Bulgaria and Russia. Recognized as the founder of modern surgery in Bulgaria, the Medical University of Varna, tuberculosis sanatorium and marine park are currently named after him. He was also a bicyclist and mountaineer. Friend of Mikhail Gerdjikov, Varban Kilifarski, Nikola Stoynov, Errico Malatesta, Peter Kropotkin, Alexander Atabekian, Élisée Reclus, Luigi Galleani, Louise Michel, Jean Grave, helped Max Nettlau in his research on Bakunin’s biography, translated Malatesta from Italian to Romanian, translated and published Kropotkin in Bulgarian.
"Amnesia is the colonization of memory. One is forced to forget everything rebellious about one’s life. The colonized mind is less likely to imagine a total revolt against this society if all traces of earlier revolts are suppressed. Everything from simple negative gestures to the hand in the cookie jar to late night crimes make memory precious to the individual; as soon as these breaches are forgotten the present becomes less and less pregnant: the stem of the flower is cut before the flower blooms. One is in despair over the absence of past freedom simply because the residue of past freedoms have been purged from one’s memory.
When asked how one knows that freedom is possible the rebel responds with examples of past freedoms. The rebel remembers the events, movements, and moments of one’s past that mark breaks with the dominant order. One knows that freedom is possible because everybody has experienced freedom: the taste of paradise is in all our mouths. To forget this is fatal. Amnesia can be combated by constantly digging back into our memories, by constantly becoming more and more aware of our mistakes and victories. No, we must not dwell in the past, we must be cruel with our pasts (and those who would keep us there), and yet we must be greedy with our pasts (and wary of those who would paint those pasts with the blackness of misery and impossibilities). Rebels must return to their own past with a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a knife in the other.”
"For me the logical extension of getting off to songs about insurrection, resistance and rebellion has always been – insurrection, resistance and rebellion. Punk rock made me want to never get a job, look like a freak and dedicate my life to fucking with all the assholes who mess up the world we live in. Punk made me want to give up drinking and be a political activist. To me, punk was never a surface where the rebellion was part of the aesthetics but a counter culture where we strive to be young until we die."
“We have nothing but our freedom. We have nothing to give you but your own freedom. We have no law but the single principle of mutual aid between individuals. We have no government but the single principle of free association. We have no states, no nations, no presidents, no premiers, no chiefs, no generals, no bosses, no bankers, no landlords, no wages, no charity, no police, no soldiers, no wars. Nor do we have much else. We are sharers, not owners. We are not prosperous. None of us is rich. None of us is powerful. If it is Anarres you want, if it is the future you seek, then I tell you that you must come to it with empty hands. You must come to it alone, and naked, as the child comes into the world, into his future, without any past, without any property, wholly dependent on other people for his life. You cannot take what you have not given, and you must give yourself. You cannot buy the Revolution. You cannot make the Revolution. You can only be the Revolution. It is in your spirit, or it is nowhere.”
“Historically, holism had been a break from the reductionist methods of science. Holism (…) is a way of viewing the universe as a web of interactions and relationships. Whole systems (and the universe can be seen as an overarching system of systems) have properties beyond those of their parts. All things are, in some sense, alive, or a part of a living system; the real world of mind and matter, body and consciousness, cannot be understood by reducing it to pieces and parts. ‘Matter is mind’ – this is perhaps the holists’ quintessential belief. The founding theories of holism had tried to explain how mind emerges from the material universe, how the consciousness of all things is interconnected.
The first science, of course, had failed utterly to do this. The first science had resigned human beings to acting as objective observers of a mechanistic and meaningless universe. A dead universe. The human mind, according to the determinists, was merely the by-product of brain chemistry. Chemical laws, the way the elements combine and interact, were formulated as complete and immutable truths. The elements themselves were seen as indivisible lumps of matter, devoid of consciousness, untouched and unaffected by the very consciousnesses seeking to understand how living minds can be assembled from dead matter. The logical conclusion of these assumptions and conceptions was that people are like chemical robots possessing no free will. No wonder the human race, during the Holocaust Century, had fallen into insanity and despair.
Holism had been an attempt to restore life to this universe and to reconnect human beings with it. To heal the split between self and other. (…) Each quantum event, each of the trillions of times reality’s particles interact with each other every instant, is like a note that rings and resonates throughout the great bell of creation. And the sound of the ringing propagates instantaneously, everywhere at once, interconnecting all things. This is a truth of our universe. It is a mystical truth, that reality at its deepest level is an undivided wholeness. It has been formalized and canonized, and taught to the swarms of humanity searching for a fundamental unity. Only, human beings have learned it as a theory and a doctrine, not as an experience. A true holism should embrace not only the theory of living systems, but also the reality of the belly, of wind, hunger, and snowworms roasting over a fire on a cold winter night. A man or woman (or child) to be fully human, should always marvel at the mystery of life. We each should be able to face the universe and drink in the stream of photons shimmering across the light-distances, to listen to the ringing of the farthest galaxies, to feel the electrons of each haemoglobin molecule spinning and vibrating deep inside the blood. No one should ever feel cut off from the ocean of mind and memory surging all around; no one should ever stare up at the icy stars and feel abandoned or alone. It was partly the fault of holism that a whole civilization had suffered the abandonment of its finest senses, ten thousand trillion islands of consciousness born into the pain and promise of neverness, awaiting death with glassy eyes and murmured abstractions upon their lips, always fearing life, always longing for a deeper and truer experience of living.” ―David Zindell