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La Onda de Los Torogoces de Morazán / Sebastian Torogoz / 2024

La Onda de Los Torogoces de Morazán / Sebastian Torogoz / 2024

For those unfamiliar with the history, Los Torogoces de Morazán blossomed alongside Radio Venceremos during the Salvadoran Civil War. One could call it the musical arm of the FMLN, the leftist guerrilla group vying to overthrow the US-and-Israeli-backed capitalist dictatorship in El Salvador. During the war, they not only uplifted the people’s spirits with cathartic and edifying mariachi music. They also used their songs to report from the front lines the outcomes of battles, atrocities committed by the capitalist forces, and so forth. This book provides an intimate portrait of how the group came to be and the inspirations for some of their most popular songs. All of it is written in Sebastian Torogoz’s gorgeously folk and studied tongue. It’s truly magical to read masterfully crafted Spanish sentences, famous for its run-on clauses, all in Torogoz’s campesino dialect. The musicality is embedded into the language. The book is a harrowing testiminio and an inspiring perspective on campesino organizing during the war.

My only criticism of the book is that Torogoz distances himself and the movement from communism, claiming that he and his campesino peers were never very versed in Marxism and were fighting for justice, equality, liberation, etc. In the same book and elsewhere in their catalog, however, they have odes and elegies to great Marxist commanders and theoreticians during the war. Even if this unfamiliarity with Marxist ideas was true during the war, at thirty-plus years of distance one would have expected Torogoz to do more research into who his bedfellows were. In recent events held in Chicago, Torogoz also claimed we should move beyond the dichotomies of left and right to something that delivers true change for the people. While I understand his likely disillusionment with the FMLN and the left at large—it has alternatively been crushed or sold out in most of Latin America—I think this muddies things rather than clarifies them for people both trying to enact change and understand history. I give it a 4.5 out of 5.

Activist Study: Araling Aktibista / 2020 / Mao and the Communist Party of the Philippines

Activist Study: Araling Aktibista / 2020 / Mao and the Communist Party of the Philippines

Araling Aktibista is a collection of writings by Mao and  the Communist Party of the Philippines meant to educate incoming members of the communist party. This book was introduced to me by an organizing friend passionate about its principles. I found the essay “On Liberalism” to be most instructive, as it is largely about speaking up about differences in meetings, rather than gossiping and moving in the interests of the collective, rather than behaving selfishly. Other aspects of this book I found much less productive and even frightful. There’s a section that discusses ingraining a class hatred into comrades so it becomes easier for them to commit violence against the bourgeoisie. Even if revolutionary violence is necessary, this seems like a dangerous position to advocate. Other times they advocate for top-down leadership models that enforce obedience by the lower levels of the organization in the name of “collectivism” as opposed to “personal interests.” While I agree in general that at some point the collective needs to bow before a decision, I would much rather decisions be made in a model more reflective of the processes Friere describes in Pedagogy of the Oppressed than the rigid paternalistic way they appear in this book. I also want to acknowledge that the top-down leadership may very well be necessary for survival during wartime and that the Filipino communist party does have a guerrilla arm that has been struggling against the government there. The more militant organizing strategies, however, do not seem relevant to the work of most organizers in the US, at least the ones I work with, that really need to figure out how to do mass organizing in today’s media and class landscape. 3/5

Double Book Review: What went wrong? The Nicaraguan Revolution: A Marxist Analysis / Dan La Botz / 2018 and The Sandinista Revolution: A Global Latin American History / Mateo Jarquin / 2024 

What went wrong? The Nicaraguan Revolution: A Marxist Analysis / Dan La Botz / 2018 and The Sandinista Revolution: A Global Latin American History / Mateo Jarquin / 2024 

Reading both of these histories side by side was incredibly illuminating. 

La Botz provided a wide-ranging overview, all the way from the independence movement forward. Readers get to read about filibuster William Walker, Sandino’s resistance, the Somoza regime, the original Sandinista regime, the neoliberal period led by Chamorro, then finally the Ortega regime. Although he’s occasionally old-timey in a weird white way, such as referring to indigenous people as “Indians,” he’s otherwise extremely astute on the hard facts and social dynamics. He diagnoses weaknesses and strengths in the organization structure of the top-down Marxist Leninist leadership, which failed to account for democratic processes. He then notes how this weakness led the state to exacerbate the conditions of a civil war, when it disappointed indigenous and peasant communities it claimed to represent, people who literally fought alongside the Sandinistas during the revolution. It had a great breakdown on the successes and failures of the literacy campaign, for example, that both lifted the country out of illiteracy and felt like a colonizing campaign for many indigenous communities. The last two sections of the book, both Chamarro’s victory (partially through US intervention) and Ortega’s rise. Chamarro’s and Ortega’s betrayal of the revolution are staggering to read, especially Ortega’s. This book definitely clarified the terrain for me, especially because there are Ortega apologists and tankies on the left who still celebrate Ortega’s dictatorship, despite its deep compromises with capitalists and its betrayal of basic human rights and progressive values. 

Jarquin’s book, on the other hand, is written with more fire and focus, narrowing its attention to the Sandinista revolution itself, capturing the zeitgeist and delineating the diplomatic efforts that enabled and ended the revolution. Jarquin’s great argument is that reductionist Cold War analyses of the Sandinistas fail to account for the bold statesmanship of several Latin American countries to defy the US’s will to take down Somoza and later end the war without totally annihilating the Sandinistas. In Jarquin’s book, you’ll get the excerpts from Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s Nobel Laureate speech and other cultural contexts that will make you feel the heat of the situation. 

I give both books 5/5 and consider them some of my most important reads in 2025. My degree in Latin American studies really should’ve made me learn more about the Sandinistas. Up until recently, I didn’t realize how pivotal it was to understand Central America as a region in order to understand the countries individually. You cannot understand the political conditions of the Salvadoran Civil War without understanding the Sandinistas. 

More Everything Forever: AI Overlords, Space, Empires, and Silicon Valley’s Crusade to Control the Fate of Humanity / Adam Becker / 2025 

More Everything Forever: AI Overlords, Space, Empires, and Silicon Valley’s Crusade to Control the Fate of Humanity / Adam Becker / 2025 

As someone who is not in the sciences, I am grateful for Adam Becker’s at times painstaking breakdown of Silicon Valley's wildest claims about the future of Tech. Anyone who has spent time in this realm knows that there is a huge array of weirdos and weirder ideas, from the Zizians and their absurdly reductionist radical utilitarian ethics to Elon Musk and his foolish ambitions to go to space. Becker takes the time to point out the flawed science and contorted logic of tech elites, heralding the coming of the singularity, attempting to conquer mortality, as well as colonize Mars. Tech elites present these pitches to politicians, business elites, and the public as arms races necessary to solve the world’s greatest struggles, from climate change to pestilence. More Everything Forever sometimes suffers from taking the ideas too seriously and being so totalizing in its criticism of these tech elites. Many are simple charlatans, and there’s something particularly grating about dealing with an effective altruist’s particular brand of bizarre thought experiments. Becker focuses too much of his attention taking their arguments in good faith, in my opinion, and fails to account for their political craft, that is, how they are accumulating power and manufacturing consent for projects that will build the surveillance state, enrich their coffers, and impose their will on humanity. Instead, Becker  ends with a very weak romantic nod to leverage our resources to implement progressive socialist policies. What an excellent desire and what a feeble follow-through in terms of a plan. In doing so, Becker falls into a classic liberal trap: assuming the worst of the capitalist class can be reasoned with and not making adequate plans to take power away from these men hellbent on destroying the planet in the name of their own egos. 3.5/5  

States of Defeat / Eric Vázquez / 2025

States of Defeat / Eric Vázquez / 2025

In States of Defeat, Vázquez skillfully tours the reader through post-war Central American literature, all of which imagined themselves in solidarity with its leftist struggles, and discusses how different authors and actors dealt with the difficult questions of solidarity. The selection of materials is astute, capturing a range of authors who really did a shit job, such as David Stoll and his destructive critique of Rigoberta Menchu, and those who wrestled with the legacy of the revolutionary movements with nuance, like Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz. Vázquez’s takes are spot on and insightful. States of Defeat is extremely readable as an academic book. Vázquez writes with incredible verve. Taken as a whole, the chapters provide a great breadth of ground for people looking to explore how others have handled the challenge of leading solidarity movements. 5/5 



Broadcasting The Civil War in El Salvador / Santiago / 2010

Broadcasting The Civil War in El Salvador / Santiago / 2010

I started to read this in grad school, but like Miguel Marmol, I got distracted and finally returned to it this year. It’s an absolutely incredible memoir that recreates the lost diary of Santiago during the rise of Radio Venceremos. The diary was lost after a military attack, and Santiago was so distraught that his comrades agreed to help him reconstruct it. Narratively, the work is incredible, not only giving readers a glimpse of the drama of the war, battle after battle, but also tracking how the guerrilla nurtured their humanity, love, and joy throughout the process. The meat of the project is a 5/5. 
That said, I was surprised by epilogues that celebrate the end of the war, heralding it as a win, despite the less than ideal circumstances that prompted the new era of neoliberal democratization. This makes it seem like the guerrilla was fighting for democracy and not for social and economic justice. On one hand, I understand the need to present the peace accords as a viable pathway forward and the need to put aside the bitterness with your best foot forward. The FMLN didn’t have a pathway to win the war, so they had to bend to what they could achieve. It just reads poorly knowing all that was to come. 

Cultish / Amanda Montell / 2021

Cultish / Amanda Montell / 2021

I read Cultish mostly because the line between cult and an organization being held together by a powerful magnetic leader can get blurry. I am curious how cult dynamics play out in a variety of different political, activist, and organizing settings, and figured Montell’s book might be a decent place to start. Overall, Cultish covers a broad swath of different leaders and settings, looking at each with a decent amount of attention and rigor. What she calls linguistics, I’m pretty sure is just a commonplace rhetorical analysis, but whatever. The rhetorical analyses and descriptions of different cultlike settings was moderately interesting, though not really relevant to my interests directly. She identifies common cult tactics, like the creation and enforcement of in-group lingo, as well as the severe consequences community members face when they attempt to leave. The narration, level of research, and so forth, felt more surface level, akin to a podcast-level, and less worthy of a whole book. Montell has been running her “Sounds Like a Cult” podcast for over four years now, so it seems like once she figured out the formula, she ran with it. Montell rightly hedges a lot, acknowledging that academic research is pretty allergic to the term “cult” because the term mostly exists to stigmatize organizations one dislikes for a number of fair or unfair reasons. A lot of the tactics toxic organizations use could be really healthy in a different context. The book was fine, just not the cup of tea I was looking for. 

I also met Montell once for the Utah Humanities Book Festival, and she was very warm and considerate, so I generally feel the need to tell people, she seems like a genuine, thoughtful, interesting person.  3 out of 5.

Red Rosa: A Graphic Novel on Rosa Luxemburg / Kate Evans / 2015 

Red Rosa: A Graphic Novel on Rosa Luxemburg / Kate Evans / 2015 

Movingly rendered and succinctly narrative with an impressive balance of personal life details, including brooding romances, and nuts-and-bolts Marxist analysis. The book covers impressive episodes from her life, relationships to animals, and all in a riveting pace I read in one sitting. Despite some sexual content, I think this is perfect for an entry level introduction to Rosa for mature adolescents, especially as its portrayal of relationships is complex. 5/5 

Imperialism, the Highest Stage of Capitalism  / Vladimir Lenin / 1917

Imperialism, the Highest Stage of Capitalism  / Vladimir Lenin / 1917

I cannot pretend to comprehend all of the economics in this book. However, this book did clarify to me the ways all capitalism leads to competing monopolies embarking on competing imperialisms. It made me a lot less sympathetic to the arguments of the leftist technofeudalist thinkers, like Varoufakis. Beyond that, to me this book was vegetables. I hope to understand it deeper as I study more, but for now, feel like I’ve gotten what I could from it. 3 out of 5. 

Miguel Mármol / Roque Dalton / 1987

Miguel Mármol / Roque Dalton / 1987

I began to read this book in grad school and was sidetracked for over a decade. I regret that sidetracking. I would have saved myself years of political and personal confusion had I taken the time to prioritize it. Mármol’s biography, as narrated and re-constructed by Roque Dalton and Mármol, captures the liveliest cantankerous voice of the 1930s Central American revolutionary movements in a biography that is at once harrowing, hilarious, and heartening. Whether describing the charms and joys of his impoverished childhood or the humiliations of his tortures, incarceration, or betrayals by his ex-wife and comrades, Mármol never fails to captivate. Included in this biography are miraculous stories and anecdotes of survival of a truly Christian magnitude. This book deserves a thrilling movie, a graphic novel, and more. 5/5 

Double Book Review: Civil Resistance and If We Burn

Civil Resistance: What Everyone Needs to Know / Erica Chenoweth / 2021 and If We Burn / Vincent Bevins / The Mass Protest Decade and the Missing Revolution / 2023 

I read Civil Resistance at the recommendation of a friend. If anyone else gets recommended Civil Resistance, I recommend you read If We Burn, instead, as it tackles the same questions in a much more intelligent and captivating manner. 

Below is a brief list of my qualms with Civil Resistance. 

  1. It does not know who its audience is. There’s a portion of the book that lists and discusses different methods of civil resistance. She spends a bit of time delineating when and why tactics like self-immolation, hacktivism, hunger strikes, leaks, property destruction and riots are  "civil resistance" and not. None of this is objectionable necessarily, but there's a tendency for baby organizer books to be advanced and rudimentary at the same time, which I think is just a weakness in writing. Like, hey, reader, I'm gonna explain street art to you since you need that, but also SELF-IMMOLATION even though you clearly still need street art explained to you. 

  2. I wastes its time with silly baby organizer questions like “has civil resistance been effective against racism?” “What about against corporations?” It's just silly baby questions anyone with a modicum of historical understanding can connect dots. The author claims civil resistance ended slavery, which is a mic-drop moment of stupidity. Because of course civil resistance was critical to ending slavery, and no, it was not nearly sufficient enough. Like have you heard of the civil war and Sherman's march? The UK didn't end slavery "in response to armed and unarmed revolts" alone necessarily, either. The Black Jacobins explains how the UK was losing the upperhand against other slavers and it economically behooved it to abolish slavery, take the moral upperhand, and use the newfound position as abolitionists to manipulate opponents colonial holdings. Hey Haitian slaves, we'll help you overthrow the French if you let us become your economic overlords and give you your "freedom." etc.

  3. There seems to be far too much determinism in how she views the aftermath of violence and nonviolence. For example, she blames Palestinian violent resistance for moving Israelis to the right. While she’s certainly right in part, she doesn’t take into account that 1) there's been global shifts to the right, suggesting other material and economic circumstances, like social media, etc, contribute to the problem 2) the other option for Palestinians and many other groups is a silent genocide. 

The tricky thing about her sort of analysis is we can't compare movements with what would've happened otherwise and for movements with a lot of dynamism and pressure, this book provides maybe just a reminder of the risks and benefits of violence. To be clear, I'm all for civil resistance. It can and has worked to get concessions from states. If that's your only goal, then it's clearly the wiser path. Civil resistance is also a critical step in any revolutionary process. You won't be able to lead a people's army if you can’t lead a well-coordinated boycott or civil disobedience campaign first. Marxist Leninists are sure to bristle at the ways this book is confusing the masses on what is effective protest and how to determine what sort of protest would be most effective. 

If We Burn, on the other hand, is written by a journalist who trailed and interviewed movement leaders in Egypt, Ukraine, Brasil, Turkey, China, and elsewhere for years to understand the shape of their civil resistance movements, and why and how they failed. Rather than encouraging folks to pursue the same tired strategies or pointing out with an almost doomerist tone that most strategies fail to yield substantial and long-lasting concessions, Bevins challenges readers to get more creative, organized, and centralized in the face of defeat. Notably, he pointed out that of the leaders he interviewed globally, when they shifted perspectives, they universally shifted towards wishing they had been more centralized and hierarchical, rather than decentralized, so that when it came time to seize power they would have been ready. They realized, there is no such thing as a political vacuum. Political power will be seized with whoever has the means and will to do it. You can’t just remove a bad actor and expect things to work themselves out. Things can always get worse. 
While Civil Resistance includes decontextualized, shallow descriptions of a range of social movements, If We Burn provides in-depth narration shaped by key movement figures and an invested leftist journalist’s analyses. Civil Resistance deserves a 1 out of 5, especially compared to If We Burn, which I’ll give a 5 out of 5.

Communists in Closets: Queering the History 1930s-1990s / Bettina Aptheker / 2023

As many shortcomings as this book may have, I found it an incredibly valuable window into the communist movement in the United States, especially in terms of capturing the zeitgeist of different eras and connecting the dots between major historical events and how they impacted the lives of our communist queers. It was beautiful and heartbreaking to see how the Black Freedom movement, the Red Scare, the Cultural Revolution in China, so forth and etc collided in the lives of our progressive forebears. Communists in Closets tracks the inspiring forging of solidarities and the heartbreaking exclusion of the minoritized. It made me realize you cannot understand the BIPOC history of the United States without understanding Marxism and the communist movement’s critical role, long obscured by K-12 public education in the United States. 

Bettina Aptheker is the perfect, somewhat sus narrator. A red diaper baby (that means she comes from blood-red communist parents!), Bettina had privileged access to the movement. Her first job was literally working for WEB Du Bois, for example. This privilege is not untroubled. Aptheker gained notoriety for outing her father as her sexual abuser after his death in her book Intimate Politics, first published in 2006. Her communist stripes, however, were first earned in publishing a major history of the trial of Angela Davis, which she both recorded and organized in support of Davis. She’s about 80 now and there are occasional gaffs in her writing. While her racial politics are usually solid, she refers to a particular neighborhood as historically “Negro” at one point. She also has a strange moment where she talks about how one elder communist feminist was, of course, anti-Trump and, somehow just as obviously, a Hilary Clinton supporter. The book deserves to be criticized for its writing style, as Aptheker’s portraits read a bit quaint, by which I mean to say it routinely feels like a grandmother is telling you long-winded stories. Aptheker occasionally indulges in litanies of awards her acclaimed queers earned in a way that provides a shallow, if lettered, understanding of the impact of their work. As much as these shortcomings might rub some readers wrong, the historical material was so poignant for me, that I was engrossed in the reading. 

I especially loved the portrait of Lorraine Hansberry, although I worry Aptheker may have leaned a little too heavily on Imani Perry’s work here. There was one moment in particular where Aptheker describes how Hansberry met with two other prominent Black communist women to organize resistance against the US coup of President Arbenz’s socialist government in Guatemala. This moment of international solidarity, to know that Black women in the blistering racism of the 1950s, saw my Central American kin and fought for us, stopped me in my tracks and moved me nearly to tears. Most heartbreaking of all, all of these women were lesbian yet so deeply closeted that they likely never knew about one another’s sexual orientations for the entirety of their lives. Aptheker does a profoundly good job showing how the closet psychologically tormented these prominent communists, who continued to risk their lives and well-being for the communist movement, despite its rejection of them. Such unfaltering love in the face of such cruelty is perhaps the queerest thing about this book. 

I also found the 5/5 movie Salt of the Earth through this book. The movie starred Rosaura Revueltas, a prominent Chicana lesbian! I am always happy to learn more about Paul Robeson, who was not queer, but appears throughout the book as a prominent communist. Turns out white mobs used to try to stop his performances and lynch concert goers. 

I love this book despite its blemishes. 4 out of 5.   

The State and Revolution / Vladimir Lenin / 1917

I admit I stayed away from Lenin, fearing he’d be a difficult and academic read. I was sorely mistaken. Lenin writes with a spunky lucidity, sparring with anarchists, opportunists, social democrats, and others to delineate the Marxist path to communism. The State and Revolution is a must-read for any would-be abolitionist and leftist of any persuasion. Lenin masterfully sinks his teeth into the strategic weaknesses of his peers and builds a firm argument for the need for a proletariat-led revolution and dictatorship of the proletariat. These WWE-style takedowns better makes me understand the divisions among leftists better, as the urgency of the revolution and the truly opposing perspectives inevitably create a powder keg in dangerous circumstances. While I have my own criticisms and questions about the work--how do we ensure that state power does not corrupt revolutionaries, as it has in the Soviet Union and China?, for example--this is the strongest theoretical ground I have found to stand on at the moment. Looking forward to reading more Lenin and dipping into more Marxist theory soon. 5 out of 5. 


Yin Xin Tang: Journey into the Center of Yourself / Wei Fo Jung / 2024

As a practitioner of qi gong under the tutelage of master Wei Fo Jung, I found his book useful in introducing me to the range of arts important to the practice of the yin xin tang school of martial arts. Some of these elements may be surprising, like the art of eating or the art of sleeping, where traditional masters offered thorough instructions for how to intentionally do something for maximum health and benefit, which we all mostly just do mindlessly. Some elements of this book will mean more after a student has some concrete experience to connect for the texts. For example, the lineage chapter clearly states that one of the roots of yin xin tang is the practice of tantra. This meant very little to me until Master Jung introduced tantric elements into my actual practice. Many of the explorations here are introductory glances into profound arts, such as meditation or the study of the mind. In one charming journal entry, for example, Master Jung describes a conversation he had with his master as a child about the nature of the self. The journal entry doesn’t arrive at any clear answer or distinguish in much depth the journey to attempt to arrive at an answer. That’s fine for an introductory text, intended to inspire and accompany study with a master, not replace it. In that sense, readers should not expect this book to teach them yin xin tang, but rather introduce them to the core areas of practice in yin xin tang and some of their history. That’s all. 4 out 5 


Defectors: The Rise of the Latino Far Right and What it Means for America / Paola Ramos / 2024

Defectors would have been a more useful book if it was published a couple of years ago, but better late than never I guess. For those of us who are politically conscious and aware of the news, Defectors will hardly offer anything new. Ramos does, however, synthesize research, news, and observations about the Latino right in a useful and clarifying way, if only to let us know there’s likely not a weird unexpected factor we hadn’t considered yet. 

Briefly summarized, Ramos identifies the three elements fueling the Latino far right as traditionalism, trauma, and media spheres in the global south.  

This is a surprisingly white supremacist history of Utah Latinos.

Because Ramos is a journalist, however, and not a historian, she fails to trace the historical roots of some of these traditions. For example, Ramos rightly identifies the patriarchal, family values in most contemporary, traditional Latino households, as well as the white supremacist threads in the ideology of a Latino far right leader who defended the statues of Spanish colonizers and celebrated only his Spanish heritage. She failed to identify how common national racial myths, such as mestizaje, perpetuate racism. Defectors makes it seem like these people emerged out of the mists, when I’m sure racist Latinos were apart of nearly every major Latin American populace in the United States. In Utah, this includes figures like Danny Quintana, who celebrated his Latin connection to the Roman empire, one-upping backward white people who descend from less civilized white stock. This part of the book was by far the most annoying and untenable, because what Ramos failed to articulate is that some Latinos are just white, far-right, and fascists and have represented those factions historically in their homelands. Latinos are so far from ideologically, ethnically, or racially monolithic, and Defectors behaves as if we once were. 

When it comes to the historical traumas, Ramos sometimes does not articulate some of the deeper contexts behind the masses’ reactions either. For example, her prescient discussion of Salvadoran dictator Bukele failed to adequately describe the gang crisis in El Salvador and the factors that led up to it. For those unaware of the right wing movement in Latin America, from its evangelists to the Republican funders and the fascists eager to bootlick Bukele and Pinochet, this book is critical reading.

As someone who has lost confidence in the social integrity of the Latino label for a while now, considering its net just too damn wide to meaningfully organize around, I found some of Ramos’s appeals to Latino identity to be too romantic. That said, I am inspired by the works of groups like Mijente, who organize and fund Latinos nationwide. I read this book, as a part of Mijente’s book club although I wasn’t able to attend the in-person gatherings. Learn more about mijente here: https://mijente.net/

Overall, I give this book a 4 out of 5, as its info feels spot-on. I just wish it occasionally fleshed a topic out in greater depth. 

Technofeudalism: What Killed Capitalism / Yanis Varoufakis / 2024

Known for his charisma and charming writing, Varoufakis is one of the leading leftist figures arguing that our economic system has fundamentally transitioned so that its axis rotates not around capital, but cloud capital, thereby ushering in the age of technofeudalism. While the distinction between technofeudalism and capitalism may seem like technical minutiae to most folks--and likely is--for political strategists and organizers especially, it is critical to have clarity on who are enemies are and how to best combat them. 

The term technofeudalism does a great job at singling out our greatest enemies of the moment--the tech oligarchs--and describing their vice-like grip on the economic system. Anushka would argue that the critique of technofeudalism make the bloody-thirsty capitalists of our day almost seem like poor victims of these new gangsters, and Varoufakis himself argues in the last pages of Technofeudalism that we would in fact need to create a broad base coalition including capitalists of many stripes to defeat the challenge technofeudalists pose. The risk here is that people forget that we need to dismantle capitalism in order to escape these hellish cycles of history. In “Critique of Technofeudalism” by Evgeny Morozov in New Left Review, the author outlines technofeudalists thinkers, including Varoufakis, but also including right-wing thinkers (Thiel and Yarvin). Morozov covers impressive ground outlining the differences between feudalism and capitalism and ultimately arrives at the conclusion that as ugly as this phase of capitalism is, it doesn’t merit another term because companies like Google and Facebook earn money through much more than just “rents.” 

As a non-economist, I have few horses in this fight. Reading Varoufakis, however, did clarify for me some of the basics of global economics and the challenges tech oligarchs pose, and he did so in really captivating and easy-to-parse prose. Because of this, I highly recommend his book. Morozov may be more correct, but he was way more academic and drier. Ultimately, I think most of us just need to understand the grip these bastards have on the globe better and Varoufakis can help you get there quicker. As the US continues to undergo a technical coup and flagrant Nazism spearheaded by tech oligarchs who subscribe to right-wing technofeudal theory, Varoufakis focus seems more and more necessary, although I admit I’m unsure if he is technically correct--I simply am not an economist. 

Wednesday February 26th, Robert Evans published a summary of a warning Democratic insiders are sharing among themselves about the dangers of Curtis Yarvin, Elon Musk, and “Neo-Reactionaries.” The letter outlines what could be called a technofeudal plan to dismantle the United States. Technofeudalist might ultimately still be capitalists, but I think the term is worth retaining for understanding how they view themselves within the capitalist landscape. For me, the dramatic speed of technological evolution--we’re literally in a world with killer robots and AI-boyfriends--justifies a terminology that distinguishes this phase of capitalism from the last. 4 out 5.

Pedagogy of the Oppressed / Paolo Friere / 1968

Many professors and ethnic studies students are at least aware of Pedagogy of the Oppressed and many have at least read chapter 2, which distinguishes the vertical banking method of education from a horizontal dialogic one. I decided to read the whole book because Ceiba Collective wanted to begin doing study groups and the committee decided a leftist book on pedagogy felt like a good place to start. I’m grateful I read the whole book, especially because of chapters 3 and 4, which argue that dialogic problem-based education is essential for revolutionary struggle. Everywhere you see liberals and the left talking about the desperate need for better messaging, sloganeering, etc. Friere would argue they’re doomed if they simply play the same game of the right, manipulating the masses and treating them as incapable of building solutions to their own problems. Friere argued for the need for dialogic problem-based education through every level of the revolution, building a strategy for struggle alongside the working masses. This is critical, because if we only win through messaging, every victory of the left will be short-lived as the masses will not have developed the critical thinking skills to see through the lies of their enemies. For me, this is the most interesting part of his argument, and worth debate in leftist organizations.

Pedagogy of the Oppressed was specifically used to develop popular education with illiterate folks meant to organize them in defense of their community. Friere’s method was used widely throughout the world and in particular Central America during their revolutionary struggle in the last half of the twentieth century. At the same time, Friere’s advocacy for education also meant that his work was used to construct systems of mass education, which despite Freire’s advocacy for a revolutionary method, still served ultimately as a force to colonize the poor and indigenous, disrupt their ways of life in service of an education that frequently ill-prepared them for the challenges of their community. Gustavo Esteva is especially critical of Friere on this part, although his criticism is laden with the worst types of decolonial nonsense, such as arguing that illiteracy should be celebrated and cherished, as if many colonized people, including First Nations peoples throughout the Americas, didn’t have sophisticated reading systems prior to colonization.  4 out of 5. 

The Management of Savagery / Max Blumenthal / 2019

I picked up this book looking to better understand the history of US intervention in Afghanistan and the Middle East, as well as reactionary and perhaps revolutionary violent resistance against it. In order to contextualize Afghanistan, Blumenthal begins in the Cold War, when the US began arming tribal Islamists, including Al-Qaeda, who were frequently compared to US independence heroes and Star Wars rebels by interventionists. In particular, Blumenthal does a great job disentangling the ways the military industrial complex manipulates the media to sanitize allies, demonize targets, and muddy an admittedly complex terrain to audiences to justify intervention and pull Washington’s purse strings. Inevitably, Blumenthal ends up playing defense for the Assad regime in Syria, pointing out untrue propaganda against his regime, a move his critics see as apologetic but I see as simply nuanced. Blumenthal can be seen as a tankie by some, and that’s probably inevitable for a writer who spends so much time countering hyperbolic US propaganda against its enemy nations, who are of course as flawed and complex as any other nation. I particularly appreciated Blumenthal’s writing on the rise of Alex Jones, who had an early career as a 9/11 truther through documentaries like Loose Change, which I had watched as a middle schooler. I never connected the dots from Loose Change to the Sandy Hook massacre denialism to the rise of Trump. Blumenthal includes a skillful argument about how neocon and neolib US military interventions led to the rise of Trump by destabilizing once functional countries and increasing the amount of terrorism and refugees in Europe. This increase led to a rise in ultranationalism and xenophobia the far right thrives on. As someone who was too young during the 9/11 era and didn’t pay enough attention to the interventionist wars during the Obama era, Blumenthal provided an incisive and clarifying narration of the history I lived.  4/5 

The Undocumented Americans / Karla Cornejo Villavicencio / 2020

As an employee at a refugee-serving organization and former megaphone-wielding activist for undocumented folks, I admit I’m likely a mark for stories like the ones in The Undocumented Americans. However, since I spend quite a bit of time with these stories and the discourse around them, I usually have my fair share of critiques of how the stories are being told or used. Cornejo Villavicencio’s unvarnished depictions of the undocumented in all their human oddity, mundanity, and trauma resists the common romanticization of the immigrant community and creates an infinitely more familiar portrait of the undocumented. Cornejo’s coverage of Flint’s undocumented community and the undocumented who served as first-responders during 9/11 are especially provocative examples of the injustices undocumented folks suffer that usually get overlooked within the explosion of discourse around them. My only real criticism of the book is that at one point Cornejo Villavicencio critiques newspapers for referring to the undocumented as “undocumented workers as if all these men are worth is their labor” (paraphrase). For a community afforded so little, I get where this critique is coming from; however, I do see value in hearkening to the labor rights traditions of the left and in acknowledging the contributions of undocumented folks.  Regardless, I cried several times when reading this book and found its stories a useful reminder of the actual conditions too often invisibilized in the US. 5 out of 5.

Gangs of Zion / Ron Stallworth / 2024

Gangs of Zion / Ron Stallworth / 2024

I read this book at the recommendation of a former colleague for a Utah-related project of mine. From the author and subject of Black Klansmen, the book and the film, we have a follow-up project fleshing out his career as a gang unit police investigator and the so-called hip-hop cop in (drumroll) Utah of all places.

Stallworth begins this memoir with a hamfisted rebuttal of Boots Riley. For those unaware, when the BlackKklansmen rollout began, Riley released a forceful critique of BlackKklansmen as revisionist history, copaganda, and pointed out Stallworth’s history of infiltrating radical Black organizations, including the one Riley’s father was a part of, as part of COINTELPRO. Stallworth fixates one aspect of Riley’s blistering and effective critique: turns out, Stallworth was too young to have participated in COINTELPRO. He definitely DID take part in infiltrating radical Black organizations, just not under the behest of the FBI. Stallworth lambasts Riley for this factual inaccuracy, completely missing the thrust of Riley’s critique. Everyone I love and care about would consider this a minor hiccup in Riley’s critique, since Stallworth did in fact break up radical Black orgs. 

For his part, Stallworth justifies infiltrating these organizations using explicitly anti-communist rhetoric and claiming they were a threat to national security. To the surprise of no one, a cop is a cop. What was mildly surprising and thoroughly entertaining was Stallworth’s confession to physically assaulting Riley at a dinner, where he boasts of squeezing his hand too hard and holding him hostage by squeezing a pressure point on his neck. Later on, he describes patting Riley’s back and telling him he just used the bathroom and didn’t wash his hands. He literally brags about making Riley “my bitch.” The moments reveal just how disgusting, insecure, and brute Stallworth’s masculinity is. What a weird little clown! 

The first bit of Stallworth’s memoir details his rise in the police department and the emergence of his “Black consciousness.” We see Stallworth refuse to tokenize himself in moments and opportunistically tokenize himself in other moments. He’s clearly a bullheaded person with a high tolerance for external criticism and disapproval as both his Black community and the officers on the force didn’t really like him much, it seems. He relates to Malcolm X, but never bothered learning the history of policing or thinking critically about solving societal problems, so he’s completely bought into the prison industrial complex as our best option it seems. 

There are two worthwhile histories described in this book. The first is the history of the JobCorps in Utah. Stallworth focuses in on this federal program, which took low-income, high-risk youth from major cities like LA and brought them to suburban Utah for job skills training, because JobCorps brought gang culture to Utah. Utah officials were in denial of this, because JobCorps stimulated their economies with fat federal checks to administer the program. In my opinion, the JobCorps also likely increased the racism of Utahns by making some of the few people of color visible in their communities, some of the poorest and in need in the country. Of course, their presence brought social problems that proliferate among any historically oppressed working class and racialized youth. For his part, Stallworth provides a sturdy critique of how the program was administered that actually shows a deep concern for these youth. It’s hilarious to learn more about white, Mormon gangsters of Utah committing petty crimes and aggravating to learn about the Pacific Islander Mormons swept up into gang culture as a reprieve from a racist society. Stallworth rebuts criticisms of his profiling of youth of color by providing anecdotes of families crying racism when they had proven gang ties and never by describing actual data and letting us know what his profile looked like. Overall, this is socially complicated territory, where actual racism is certainly at play, as well as actual violent criminal activity in some communities of color at the time. Stallworth’s voice and bias here is useful, even if I disagree with him, in painting the larger picture of what was happening in Utah’s lower income community at times. For his part, Stallworth genuinely went out of his way to do what he thought was right in revealing the way JobCorps was failing both youth  of color and the communities these youth were brought to. 

The second history tied into this one is the rise of gangster rap and its influence on youth. During the hysterical pearl-clutching of the Ice T, NWA, and Tupac era, Stallworth gained a reputation as a so-called “hip-hop cop,” where he would rap and breakdown rap lyrics in universities and serve as an expert witness in the “Gangster Rap Made Me Do It” cases. I listened with troubled curiosity about how Stallworth claims to have learned the “G-code” by listening to gangster rap. He became a fan of 90s gangsta rap, falling hard to Tupac’s consciousness in songs like “Dear Mama’ and “Brenda’s got a baby.” During this era, Stallworth became a N-word-whisperer for scared white people and elites. His representations of hip-hop culture were sympathetic, as he saw gangster rappers as expressing the genuine concerns of an oppressed community. He defended hip-hop culture in courtrooms and warned politicians against culture wars that simply made gangster rap cooler. While I agree that Stallworth’s experience as a cop, a Black man, and a fan of hip-hop, who self-studied sociology and ethnic studies to better understand the culture, give him some insight in the gang culture and communities of color, I believe these experiences gave him too much confidence. He acts as if hip-hop culture can substitute actually getting to know people. His relationship with community remains antagonistic, even in his somewhat believable anecdotes about former gang members saying he was the only positive male role model in their life. Even if these anecdotes were true, a handful of anecdotes hardly compare to the many other lives he likely ruined and made much more difficult in his role.  

Even when Stallworth is dead wrong, he still manages to be entertaining. 3 out of 5.