Imaginal Machines by Stevphen Shukaitis. Autonomedia (2009).

At every level, Imaginal Machines is a subversive text. Against the rising tide of complacency, Stephven Shukaitis sketches out new possibilities for political engagement that are at once seditious and savvy. Resolutely anti-disciplinarian (in both senses of the word), he leaps recklessly from philosophy to art criticism to social movement studies. In the book’s opening pages, Shukaitis promises to “connect Surrealism with migrant workers, the Industrial Workers of the World with Dadaism, and back again.” Against all odds, he does so, and with great aplomb. From its non-linear organization to its whimsical typeface, Imaginal Machines courageously defies convention. Throwing caution to the wind, the book explodes the limits of both what can be said and how it might be said.

Stylistically, Imaginal Machines is both entertaining and terrifically complex. The text overflows with prescient metaphors, digressions, in-jokes, and parenthetical observations. But these quips and asides are not merely adjunct to the primary text but rather rival the “main” narrative for attention. The subtext quickly becomes the surface, and in an affront to neo-positivist ways of knowing, Shukaitis bends his lyrical prose sideways and backwards, without ever compromising lucidity. Reflecting the uncertainty of postmodern times, nearly every declarative statement comes paired with a qualifier or a caveat. The result is a text that folds in upon itself with multiple levels of meaning.

The body of the text is centered around a series of case studies (though the notion of a case doesn’t align with the author’s method). Shukaitis takes us on a whirlwind tour of what others have called “alternative institutions” (several of which he was involved in personally) and offers a probing introspective analysis. Yet unlike other recent assessments of the global Left “scene,” which tend to be optimistic to the point of absurdity (for example, We Are Everywhere, NowTopia, Real Utopia), Shukaitis maintains his (self-)critical edge throughout. Indeed, Shukaitis is keenly aware that—by most measures of success—the Left is losing badly. For example, in a chapter on worker self-management (WSM), Shukaitis describes his four-year-long involvement with a worker-owned record label in vivid detail. But ultimately, he concludes that WSM may have limited radical potential (though his argument is significantly more complex), and in the process offers the type of deep self-critique that is painfully absent in most
Left circles.

The term Imaginal Machines merits some explanation. As Shukaitis notes, his title is borrowed from a term coined by Peter Lamborn Wilson (aka Hakim Bey), itself a derivative of Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari’s desiring-machine. So the imaginal machine is “a particular arrangement or composition of desires and creativity as territorialized through and by relations between bodies in motion.” The idea of outer space figures prominently here. For Shukaitis, the metaphor of space is relavant precisely because it represents that which cannot be (entirely) known. In science fiction film, the music of Sun-Ra, and the popular imagination, space functions as a zone of limitless possibility. Shukaitis suggests that a politics bounded by the coordinates of the known world is hopelessly constrained. Instead, “an imaginal landscape is a precondition for actually finding a northwest passage in the physical world.” Whether or not space is operating at the level of metaphor here, it is a powerful heuristic device.

Imaginal Machines is often remarkable for what it doesn’t do. Though the concept of “radical imagination” emerges as a dominant theme, Shukaitis self-consciously refuses to mention C. Wright Mills, whose Sociological Imagination is usually considered among the most important contributions to the concept. For a traditional social scientist to write a book on the “imagination” without explicitly invoking Mills would approach blasphemy. But Shukaitis is no traditional social scientist (though he may be a blasphemer). Likewise, Karl Marx appears mainly through his metaphors (the architect and the bee, the old mole, “storming heaven”). Yet Marx lurks in the deep crevices of Imaginal Machines’ pages and his influence is never far from the surface. Though the book is, in part, a critical encounter (rencontre) between autonomist Marxism and poststructuralist theory, this is not Shuakitis’ main intellectual project.

While it adheres to some extent to traditional book-publishing conventions, Imaginal Machines strives to be a rhizomatic text with no beginning and no end—only a boundless middle. Characteristically, most of the book’s conclusions arise from the embedded case studies, while the book’s final chapter (the “actual” conclusion) opens up far more questions than it provides answers to. In the section on work and self-management, Shukaitis at one point recommends a politics based on “the constant immanent shaping and creativity that will not allow itself to ever be totally bound in a fixed form.” There is a sense here that Shukaitis is commenting on the very text he is producing—or better yet, the “work” of book-writing. If there is an enemy in Imaginal Machines, it is the idea of closure—that struggle should at some point cease, that the revolution should be contained, that organizations should seek permanence.
This opens the question of failure, another major theme in the book. For the post-9/11 Left, most of the last decade has been characterized by moods that don’t translate well into English—malaise, ennui, schaedenfreude, and melancholia. Large street protests seem to have quieted down, while, at the same time, the ever-resilient late capitalist state has demonstrated a unique ability to co-opt dissident movements. Of course, as Shukaitis reminds us, this is nothing new. thirty years ago, the threat of worker militancy and factory occupations famously portended the rise of worker participation committees, quality circles, and the team concept—a blow from which most unions have yet to recover. More recently, in continental Europe, widespread protests around (against?) precarious work were “answered” in the form of “flexicurity” (flexible security) regimes—a Phyrric victory at best. Yet accelerated cycles of recuperation—defeat via compromise—may well be a unique feature of post-Fordism. The task then becomes devising a politics that can resist the overarching tendency toward capture—even temporarily.

Here, Shakaitis draws heavily on the notion of infrapolitics, as posited by James Scott and popularized by the cultural historian Robin Kelley. Much like Deleuze’s minor politics, Kelley’s infrapolitics suggest a “hidden transcript of power…or a space that is somewhat encoded or otherwise made less comprehensible to those in power.” Shukaitis argues that in order to avoid recuperation, resistance must operate largely in the sphere of infrapolitics—beyond the watchful gaze of the state—and speak in ways that defy understanding. Perhaps the answer to Guyatri Spivak’s prescient question “Can the Subaltern Speak?” is a definitive “yes”—but not in ways that are universally intelligible.

The audience for Imaginal Machines is sure to be broad. On the one hand, the book is written by a movement insider with extensive knowledge of the contemporary American Left and is grounded in real political struggles. On the other, Imaginal Machines is a sophisticated endeavor, deeply informed by high theory (especially of the Italian autonomist and the French poststructuralist variety). Yet Imaginal Machines is not just another “social movement study” by an academic from the distant perspective of a “neutral” observer. Shukaitis constantly reminds us that actually-existing political practice is already immersed intheoretical presuppositions, just as good theory emerges from real struggles. But Shukaitis transcends and ultimately dispenses with the classic binary between “theory” and “practice” by masterfully weaving both into a seamless narrative. The result is the rare academic book that is certain to appeal to activists and organizers, but does not compromise its scholarly integrity in so doing.

This is a unique and extraordinary text that deserves wide attention. Just as Baruch Spinoza famously posed the question “What can a body do?” Shukaitis seems to ask “What can a book do?” The answer, it appears, is far more than we think.

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“If the Hanoi Hilton could not break John McCain’s resolve to do what is best for his country, you can be sure the angry Left never will.” — President George Bush, addressing the RNC via satellite feed, September 1, 2008

“I Am The Angry Left.” — T-Shirt seen at demonstration outside RNC, September 2, 2008

For casual observers on the east coast, the most enduring memory of the 2008 Republican National Convention is probably the chorus of Republicans who interrupted McCain’s acceptance speech chanting “Drill, Baby, Drill” while pumping their fists up and down, like a sea of oil rigs on the Alaskan tundra. For 19-year-old Elliot Hughes, one of 800 protesters arrested during the four days of street protests outside the convention hall, the memories are likely to be somewhat different. Speaking at a press conference immediately following his release from jail, he told reporters, “six or seven officers came into my cell, and they took — one officer punched me in the face…. And the officer grabbed me by the head, slammed my head on the ground [points to a visible gash on his forehead]. And I was bleeding everywhere. They put a bag over my head that had a gag on it. And they used pain compliance tactics on me for about an hour and a half.” When asked about the incident, Ramsey County Sherriff Bob Fletcher neither confirmed nor denied the allegations, but noted Hughes was “extremely disruptive in jail,” and “it took some force to control him.”

Elliot’s experience was but one of the more dramatic examples of an exceedingly brutal police reaction to militant protests that turned downtown St. Paul into a virtual war zone for four days and nights. While in recent years most police departments have become increasingly reliant on de-escalation tactics and so-called “soft” repression, the RNC seemed to signal the reversal of this trend. The RNC certainly marked the most aggressive policing of a US demonstration since the 1999 WTO Riots in Seattle, and probably the most fiercely contested political party meeting since the infamous 1968 Democratic Convention in Chicago. Police unleashed their full arsenal of “less-lethal” weaponry, deploying tear gas cartridges, pepper spray canisters, smoke bombs, concussion grenades, and rubber bullets with little restraint, not to mention the liberal use of nightsticks. In one of the most widely reported incidents, police used snowplows and dumptrucks to trap a group of 300 protesters on a bridge, ordering them to lie on the pavement with their hands over their heads as they awaited arrest. Most disturbing, police seemed to deliberately target the alternative media, shutting down the offices of the Twin Cities Independent Media Center and raiding I-Witness Video — a NYC-based video journalist collective with a record of documenting police brutality at mass demonstrations — three times. Democracy Now radio broadcaster Amy Goodman was also arrested in the course of the demonstrations, along with two producers, one of whom was bloodied in the process.

A bit of context is necessary here: All major party conventions are now deemed National Special Security Events, which means they are allocated special funds and overseen by the Joint Terrorism Task Force — a partnership between the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Department of Homeland Security components (Coast Guard, Immigration and Customs Enforcement, the Transportation Security Administration, and the Secret Service) and state and local law enforcement. In preparation for the festivities, the city temporarily deputized 3,000 officers from across the state to supplement its 600 regular officers. Meanwhile, 1,200 members of the Minnesota National Guard — many fresh from a tour of Iraq — waited in the wings in case things got testy. To fund these expenditures, St. Paul asked for and received $50 million from Congress. On top of that, the Republican National Committee had bought a $10 million insurance policy from the St. Paul police, pledging to spend its own money to stop any civil rights lawsuits. This insurance policy seemingly gave the police free license to engage in activities that were likely to get them sued. If past practice is any guide, the host city may eat some hefty fines, but not before harassing the crap out of the rabble with the aim of incarcerating them and/or intimidating and impoverishing them through legal fees and court appearances.

I attended the convention as a member of a political marching band known as the Rude Mechanical Orchestra. Our role was mainly ancillary: we would stand on the sidewalk and pump out tunes to diffuse tense situations while our friends in the street did the dirty work. Our repertoire ranges from a cover of 80’s glam-metal band Twisted Sister’s “We’re Not Gonna Take It” to a reimagining of Beyonce’s “Crazy In Love” (with anti-war lyrics). Oh, and we have some originals too. We rolled up to St. Paul in a veggie-oil-powered school bus, after having logged 1500 miles en route from New York. Upon our arrival in the Minnesota capitol, we were swiftly greeted by St. Paul’s finest, who interrogated our driver as part of a “routine traffic stop.” On day two of the convention, our bus was surrounded and barricaded by riot police for a four hour stretch, until they realized they had no justification to detain us. Both times, we got off scot free. Others were not so lucky.

The ironically named RNC Welcoming Committee was formed as “an information and logistical framework for radical resistance to the RNC.” The WC did not actually organize the demonstration, but instead provided a support structure for protesters coming to the Twin Cities. But because the WC was the public face of the demonstrations, police quickly labeled it an “organized criminal enterprise” with plans “to utilize criminal activities to disrupt and stop the RNC.” Even before the festivities began, the local police were already conducting preemptive strikes against known organizers. In mid-August the WC opened a “convergence center” — a space for protesters to gather, eat, share resources, and build networks of solidarity. On Friday, August 29th, 2008, as folks were finishing dinner and sitting down to a movie, the Ramsey County Sheriff’s Department stormed in, guns drawn, ordering everyone to the ground. This night-time raid resulted in seized property (mostly literature), and after being cuffed, searched, and ID’d, more than sixty individuals inside were released. The next morning, on Saturday, August 30th, the Sheriff’s Department executed search warrants on three houses, seizing personal and common household items and arresting five suspected leaders. An affidavit released several days later revealed that police operatives had successfully infiltrated the WC as early as one year before the convention, gathering information that led to the preemptive raids and arrests. (Many of the allegations in the affidavit are patently false and strain the imagination, such as the claim that anarchists planned to kidnap delegates and blow up tunnels leading to the convention center). A spokesperson for the National Lawyers Guild, which defended some of the protesters, told the press, “This is a political prosecution in its purest form, because no one is actually accused of physically doing anything that would be violent…They’re being prosecuted specifically for their political activities and what they advocated.”

Although some of the more prominent organizers had been taken out, the WC’s decentralized structure made it invulnerable to decapitation. The WC had divided Saint Paul into 7 sectors, so that organizing bodies throughout the country could coordinate their actions and blockade as many access points as possible. Operating in small, autonomous cells known as affinity groups, protesters with the stated goal of disrupting the convention blockaded highway on-ramps and busy intersections and destroyed corporate property. Others improvised barricades out of street signs and newspaper bins. At one intersection, protesters dragged a dumpster into the street and overturned it, filling the street with trash and debris. Peace Officers from the nearby permitted rally removed the dumpster from the street and set it upright on the curb, only to watch it get dragged into the street again minutes later. This sequence was repeated at least three times. Elsewhere, a car was driven into the center of a busy intersection, diagonally blocking traffic from both directions under a banner reading: NO WAR BUT THE CLASS WAR. EAT THE RICH. FEED THE POOR. A video circulated on YouTube shows a protester jumping an officer from behind as he attempts to make an arrest. (The officer subsequently retreats empty-handed). On the afternoon of September 4, thousands of Twin Cities youth walked out of their high schools and colleges in a citywide student strike against the Republican Convention, organized by Youth Against War and Racism.

Despite threats and public recriminations from the mayor and the superintendent, many high schools across the metropolitan region were reportedly shuttered. Although the heavily defended security perimeter immediately surrounding the convention hall was never breached, delegate busses from Connecticut and Alabama were delayed and Democratic pundit Donna Brazile was accidentally hit with pepper spray.

The award for “most creative protest tactic” goes to “Bash Back!,” a Chicago-based collective of trans-folk, queer youth, and anarcha-feminists clad in pink and blue, many brandishing magic wands and some with fairy wings. When confronted by the members of the incendiary anti-homosexual Westboro Baptist Church, the queer bloc chanted “We’re here, we’re queer. We’re anarchists, we’ll fuck you up!” while pantomiming gay sex acts, much to the consternation of the churchgoers. The reward for “most idiotic slogan” goes to the neo-Trotskyite Sparticist League, who raised placards advocating “Unconditional Defense of the Deformed Chinese Workers State against Imperialist Counterrevolution.”

Of course, all this was lost to readers of the New York Times, who had to turn to page 18 to find any protest coverage at all. The media, for its part, was mainly bewildered. The local FOX News affiliate reported: “At every turn, the peaceful protesters were overshadowed by the anarchists, who left a trail of vandalism in their wake, without cause or ideology, leaving police to wonder, ‘what’s still to come?’’’ (Apparently, those who identify ideologically with the anarchist tradition are “without ideology”). Another naïve television reporter asked a member of my band whether we were Obama supporters. To be sure, the convention attracted the usual mix of liberals, NGOs, and social democrats, many of whom still have illusions in Obama or the Greens, but their endless speechifying and permitted marches were overshadowed by more disruptive groups. The mainstream American left, in its pitiful state, cannot see beyond the bounds of party politics. History shows we can’t vote our way out of a war by backing the least offensive candidate.

At press time, eight individuals face charges of Conspiracy to Commit Riot in Furtherance of Terrorism, a 2nd degree felony that carries the possibility of 7½ years in prison under a “terrorism enhancement” clause normally reserved for prisoners of war. The last use of such charges in Minnesota was in 1918, when organizers with the Industrial Workers of the World on the Iron Range were charged with ‘criminal syndicalism’ for organizing unions. This comparison is surprisingly apt. Then, like now, we were reeling from an increasingly unpopular war in an era when dissent was equated with terrorism. In an open letter to allies, the defendants group writes, “These [conspiracy charges] create a convenient method for incapacitating activists, with the potential for diverting limited resources towards protracted legal battles and terrorizing entire communities into silence and inaction.”

Finally, it seems, the American Left has shaken off the post-9/11 malaise that tamed street protests in the half decade immediately following the WTC attacks. Despite Bush’s posturing, the Angry Left is back. In an email message circulated widely just after the convention, a collective associated with the demonstrations wrote, “the upsurge associated with the anti-globalization era was not a flash in the pan: if anything, we are stronger today than ten years ago.” Who knows what the next years may bring…

To support RNC arrestees — monetarily or otherwise — visit www.RNC8.org. 

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