So fashy! So chill! We make our own rules, fr fr. Voluntary vibes only. Everyone’s chasing their bliss, no cap. Nobody’s broke, nobody’s flexing—just perfect balance, like ✨divine pizza math✨. So fire. But here’s the thing, anarchy is not a vibe.
Imagine this: you never wash a dish again, ever, pizza spawns in the fridge, weed flows like tap water, no barking orders, no bosses, no boomers. Sleep when you want, vibe when you want, you’re the main character. It’s utopia, it’s ✨freedom✨, it’s “I do what I want and still get snacks.”
No chores, no bills, no consequences—just vibes, snacks, and infinite autonomy. You’re vibing so hard you forget what day it is, you’re free, you’re sovereign, you’re glowed up.
And then—Dad wakes you up to get ready for class. Suddenly it’s 7:15. Your socks are wet. The pizza was a dream. You’ve got a group project with the kid who ghosted the last two meetings. The vibe is gone. The system is back. And you realize: you’re not free—you’re just unsupervised and well-lit.
Anarchy Dreaming
You thought anarchism was just vibes. No rules, no chores, no consequences. Just snacks, soft lighting, and a collective that somehow always agrees. But then someone ghosts the chore wheel. Someone eats the last slice and calls it resistance. Someone refuses to mediate conflict because “hierarchy is violence.” And suddenly, your utopia is just a messy house with bad lighting and passive aggression.
Voluntary cooperation sounds idyllic—like a soft chorus of “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” drifting through a summer night. It works, until someone refuses to play nice. The group chat stalls. The vibe collapses. Someone calls the cops because no one else can manage the situation. At that point, mutual aid isn’t enough. Good intentions can’t resolve conflict when one person refuses to cooperate. Your crew can’t even handle dishes. The group chat implodes over snacks. One edge case and the whole vibe folds. That’s not freedom. That’s just chaos with emojis.
The Vision Was
Anarchism didn’t start with vibes. It was a political philosophy built to refuse oppression—by kings, cops, landlords, bosses, and anyone else. The word comes from the Greek anarkhia, meaning “without rulers.” They believed in self-governance, mutual aid, voluntary association, and direct action. Let’s define these terms:
Self-Governance means to clean your own drama without calling the manager. Mutual aid is sharing snacks, meds, and rent money because survival isn’t a solo game. Voluntary association means choosing your people, not getting assigned a group project by the state. Direct action is fixing the problem yourself instead of filing a complaint and hoping it gets read—no middlemen, no waiting for permission.
Proudhon said owning stuff just to flex was theft. Bakunin clocked the state as a power trap—always rigged, never neutral. Goldman came in loud for free speech, queer love, and fighting like hell for care. Kropotkin looked at nature and said, “Helping each other is how we survive, not beefing.”
Burn It Down!
So much of what Proudhon, Bakunin, and Goldman evangelized depends on a toxic depiction of the zeitgeist of their time. These were some bitter people. Rooting a utopia in bitterness doesn’t go well. Pissing your misery on everyone else is wrong. Proudhon said “property is theft.” No. Property is survival. Men can wander. Hunt. Drift. Women need a nest. Land. Tell a woman she’s stealing the ground she lives on and she’ll fight you. And she’ll be right.
Bakunin
Bakunin called the state a trap—“political organization itself as the source of oppression and exploitation.” On that point, he wasn’t wrong. He saw through Marxism’s promise of worker liberation and recognized the danger of centralized power. The so-called “dictatorship of the proletariat,” he argued, would become a one-party state ruling over the people, not by them.
His alternative was radical: dismantle the state, abolish hierarchy, and replace it with freely federated communes—voluntary associations of economic producers, organized from the bottom up. It was ambitious, idealistic, and structurally fragile.
Because Bakunin wasn’t just anti-authoritarian. He was anti-governance. And that’s toxic. His refusal to build durable systems left a trail of chaos. He disrupted, divided, and refused accountability.
Goldman
Goldman fought for free speech. Now we’re debating it again—because social media moderation metastasized into cultural control. Moderation is a necessary evil in any public forum. But at this scale—billions of users, trillions of posts—it’s a whithering task. Even with AI, even with intent, the system can’t keep up. So, it defaults to control, curated feeds, and invisible biased hands. It’s become an agenda-driven, authoritarian tool of the elites. I’d move the boundary toward more libertine.
Kropotkin
Kropotkin’s “helping each other . . ” No shit. What do you think Christians have been doing this whole time? So . . . the answers of these three aren’t really answers. They are the same old answers dressed up in a new Prom gown. And the same old problems. Freedom from property ownership, the state, and unmoderated speech doesn’t improve things. What it does is make things worse.
AntiFa Goes to Church
Antifa says it’s just vibes—no HQ, no rules—but receipts say cult behavior. They’ve got buildings, cash flow, and squad-level coordination that screams “actual org.” Trump called them terrorists—no cap—but the legal system’s still side-eyeing that label. Their public claims? Sus. The choreography’s too tight to be just vibes.
Antifa behaves like a church. Social pressure and purity logic enforce an unwritten orthodoxy. Members conform to shared tactics and ideological norms, often without formal vetting. The movement repeats its rituals—black bloc attire, direct action, doxxing campaigns—with precision and reverence. These liturgical gestures define its rhythm.
Evangelism runs deep. Outrage fuels the gospel. Members treat memes and manifestos as sacred texts, circulating them like scripture. They punish dissent and treat nuance with suspicion. When someone falls short, the group responds with public shaming and digital exile. Any deviation threatens the path to utopia.
Members contribute regularly—bail funds, gear drops, travel stipends—coordinated through mutual aid networks and encrypted channels. They maintain sanctuaries: buildings, safe houses, Discord servers. These spaces function as sacred ground, anchoring the movement’s rhythm. Antifa doesn’t call itself a religion or a cult, but its behavior often mirrors both. At times, it echoes NXIVM—ritualized, insular, and enforced through social control.
More Bitterness ≠ More Better
We won’t tantrum our way to a better world. Bitterness corrodes. C.S. Lewis in the Screwtape Letters, “To us a human is primarily food; our aim is the absorption of its will into ours, the increase of our own area of selfhood at its expense.” The one shared characteristic of Proudhon, Bakunin, Goldman and AntiFa is a cultish addiction to bitterness. Bitterness that is eating the life in them.
Stay with me while I lay down some facts. In Daniel Goleman’s Emotional Intelligence, he writes, “When the amygdala is triggered, it can take over the brain, flooding it with emotion and shutting down rational thought.” Let me break his words down: the more wound up we get the dumber we get.
So, the bitterness of the three saints of anarchism is kept alive by AntiFa and other fellow travelers. AntiFa has the advantage of support from Left wing elites and Democrat Party Progressives. This is their civil war. Victory achieved once Trump is lynched. Followed by the genocide of Salmon Voldemort’s loyalists. Glory!
You are Crunchy and Taste Good with Ketchup
First thing. Revolution doesn’t eliminate the need for governance. Bakunin’s passion for destroying the state is a tantrum turned lifestyle. It blindly trusts that freely federated communes organized below upward will engender better behavior. I don’t share his optimism.
AntiFa itself chants Bakunin tropes and tells the world it is just a vibe. It’s not a real organization. This is delusion. In operation it is an organization with hierarchy. The disconnect between the vision and the practice is sharp. The way they operate is an instance of what they fight against.
Because governance is a core need even AntiFa recognizes. The LARP fantasy of a post democratic, post capitalist utopia doesn’t hold once it encounters real people with real needs. It also doesn’t fare well with the few who won’t behave. Most people are good. The good people are not the worry. It is the few who are not good that poison the utopian visions of Proudhon, Bakunin, Goldman, and AntiFa. This is made worse by a shared zeitgeist rooted in bitterness.
The Better Way
The answer is ancient and absurd. It begins with mercy and grace, otherwise expressed as compassion. Start by giving grace first. Next, we are forgiven so we can keep the past in the past. And so we can walk closer to embodying Christ. Yes, I’m saying Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life everlasting [John 14:6 ESV].
Emotional Roots Matter
If Jesus was anything, he was anarchist. The difference is in the emotional root of AntiFa and Christ. AntiFa’s root is bitter where Christ’s root is life. AntiFa only knows destruction. They have no answer post apocalypse. Not so with Christ. Two millenia and billions of followers are proof that Christ’ way is light and life. Do you, boo. As for me and my house, we will follow Jesus.
What I hear from AntiFa:
- We demand that we are treated the way we want to be treated. Failure will be punished with violence IRL and online.
- We demand that things must change to our satisfaction and we won’t stop until we are satisfied.
- We will do big things with energy and passion that push our ideals forward.
Three Principles That Heal Bitterness
Last thing: three easy principles that are an antidote to the bitter elixir of Antifa:
- Treat people the way you want to be treated. You are hearing the Golden Rule, “Here is a simple, rule-of-thumb guide for behavior: Ask yourself what you want people to do for you, then grab the initiative and do it for them. Add up God’s Law and Prophets and this is what you get.” [Matthew 7:12, The Message]
- Change the things you can change and leave be the things you can’t. The Serenity Prayer.
- Do Small Acts of Kindess with Great Love Mother Theresa said, “Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.”
I wrote NUUSA and thought I was done with this. 1700 words later I guess not.