Confessions of an anarchist

Anarchists associate in “groups.” These, for obvious reasons, seldom muster more than a dozen members each. Whilst the Anarchist creed—the elimination of authority in all its forms—admits of no kind of organisation whatever, still it must be admitted, in justice to a section of the party, that some of them profess to believe in a form of “voluntary co-operation,” as distinct from the “coercive” institutions of government. I say “profess to believe” advisedly, for I have never yet found the practices of Anarchists square with their professions. In vain do we look in the Anarchist party for a sample of organisation. There is none. Attempts at organisation among them have been frequent, but all have ended in ignominious failure. The fact is, the Anarchists are incapable of organisation, and, far from being fit for a “society without government” (could such an anomaly maintain itself a day), they have shown themselves incapable of managing a decent-sized apple stall. The manifesto of the “Associated Anarchists” bears out what I say. “We have been present,” say the issuers of this manifesto, “at many of the meetings of our Anarchist comrades, where discussions of important matters were to be conducted, and where it was hoped that some mutual and collective agreement would be come to as to an expression of opinion and as to action. In every case, however, where perfect unanimity was not hit upon, as it were, by accident, it was found impossible to decide anything in the shape of a general opinion of the meeting, or with regard to what action should be taken by them in all these particular and important affairs. Instead of this, violent altercations have arisen; the utmost disorder has prevailed, and the whole of the meetings, from the standpoint of organisation, have been absurd farces and ridiculous frauds.”

At Anarchist conferences it is amusing to observe the shifts to which the “companions” are put, to obviate the inconvenience arising from this lack of system. At these so-called conferences and congresses there is no chairman (he being a “relic of authority”), and it is always left to “individual initiative” to start the discussion on matters concerning the “propaganda.” The consequence is that order is conspicuous by its absence. Anyone can roll off a speech when he likes, where he likes, for as long as he likes, and on any subject he likes. No vote is taken of the feeling of the “comrades” present—who, by a convenient fiction, are supposed to be delegates of the various “groups”—consequently no action is taken, and the so-called conference resolves into a mere talking shop. So loosely are the party affairs carried on that anyone can gain admittance to a “group,” and anyone can enter their congresses even without being a member of a group. No credentials are asked for, and it is not an extraordinary occurrence to see one or two detectives sitting among the “comrades.”

The names of some of the “groups” are interesting, inasmuch as they indicate the thoughts uppermost in the Anarchist mind: the Torch, Alarm, Rebel, Necessity, Ni Dieu, ni Maitre (no God, no master), Firebrand, Liberty, Revenge, Free Initiative, British Nihilists, etc. The last-named “group” loudly prated their belief in the “propaganda of action.” They talked of naught save dynamite and daggers. They were the party’s dare-devils. (And if daring consists in breathing fire and slaughter all the twenty-four hours of the day, then the Anarchists are the pluckiest folk I know of.) One of the British Nihilists managed to muster up sufficient courage to perform the revolutionary act of firing a revolver at the House of Commons, doubtless expecting to see it collapse, like the walls of Jericho at the trumpet’s blast. As a result of the Deptford Group’s propaganda, Rolla Richards blew up three post-offices in South London with pennyworths of gunpowder, “in memory of Ravachol, Santo, Bourdin, Polti,” and others.

The “Associated Anarchists” were not long in becoming dissociated. They were a body of about a dozen youths who had become disgusted with orthodox Anarchist “organisation.” They decided on reform, and accordingly drew up a code of “non-compulsory agreements.” Members on joining agreed beforehand to voluntarily abide by the decision of the majority (the contrary of Anarchist principles), but still were free not to so abide. They printed and published the Alarm (an alarming little sheet printed in gorgeous blue, like an oilman’s circular). Dissensions soon arose among the associates as to the management of this property. A minority of two, in the exercise of their “individual liberty,” claimed the lot to do as they liked with, and shut the door in the face of the other “brothers,” who, in their turn, “burgled” the premises at dead of night. Then the minority called in the police (by no means strange for Anarchists). However, a reunion took place between the opposing factions, and everything went as merrily as a marriage bell, until, one fine day, the majority found that this time the minority had sold up all the happy home and pocketed the proceeds! And now, dear reader (as they say in tracts), just picture in your mind the beauty of Anarchy adopted nationally!

Some of the groups, for obvious reasons, adopt a disguise of respectability! Thus, the “South London Progressive Association,” which met at one of the coffee-houses in the Old Kent Road, was a group of Anarchists. So also was the “North London Progressive Association” of Kentish Town. The Jewish Anarchist Club in Berner Street, E., was known as the “International Workpeople’s Educational Society,” and was composed of the lowest class of Russian and Polish Jews. The “Deptford Educational Society,” which met above a shop in New Cross Road, was a group of English Anarchists, who dissolved soon after the conviction of Rolla Richards for blowing up post-offices in the neighbourhood. Another Anarchist club was the Scandinavian Club in Rathbone Place. The Commonweal Group met in a mews off Gray’s Inn Road. Its members were believers in the “propaganda of deed,” and were often in the hands of the police.

The old Autonomie Club, in Windmill Street, Tottenham Court Road, was the home of a number of groups: the French, German, and Italian groups; the “Knights of Liberty” and the “Young Anarchists”—a group of mere boys who actually conducted classes for the study of explosive chemicals.

Some of the so-called groups comprise only one or two individuals. For instance, Freedom speaks of the “Somer’s Town Group” as being very active. This formidable revolutionary organisation comprised three individuals—one of whom, in true Anarchist fashion, appointed himself secretary, treasurer, librarian, and everything else. The two men who composed the Torch group after its founders, the Misses Rossetti, had left the movement, appointed themselves delegates to one of the May Day Celebration Committees, wrote out their own credentials, and sat and voted on every proposal brought forward. This “group” was the loudest in shrieking for the admission of Anarchists to the International Socialist and Labour Congress held in London in 1896, and was the originator of the agitation having that object in view. The cool and impudent demand of these self-elected and unrepresentative nonentities to sit and vote side by side with bonâ fide trade-union delegates representing thousands of members, is only equalled by its astounding hypocrisy, for Anarchists profess not to believe in democracy, voting, or representation, and consequently have no place in any organisation based on democratic principles.

The English Anarchists (who, by the way, are looked upon by their foreign and practical brethren more with contempt than “fraternity”) are to-day a mere handful, and the “party” is becoming smaller and beautifully less owing to the numerous secessions of the more intelligent, who, in course of time, become disgusted with the lack of system, want of order, and contempt for moral conduct which pervades the practical section of the party. I doubt if there are fifty Englishmen in London of the Anarchist persuasion. The strength of the entire movement may be judged by the fact that their oldest established, and now only existent organ in the Press—Freedom—has a paltry circulation of about 500 copies monthly throughout the entire country.

Very few of these “groups” exist otherwise than in name. By this I mean that few are conducted on genuine business-like principles, such as the periodic appointment of officers, the holding of weekly or fortnightly members’ meetings, the issuing of balance-sheets, and so on.