Author: avisbabel
Incatenati alla corona
Entrare nel vivo
Speranza
Albert Soubervielle en L’idée anarchiste, n.5, 8 maggio 1924
Un’arte antica
«A dirla in breve, tutti i Numi aborro»
Eschilo, Prometeo incatenato
Molti secoli dopo la tragedia di Eschilo, il figlio di un contadino scozzese si imbatté in un fenomeno che il Prometeo della leggenda non avrebbe rinnegato: il fuoco, come conoscenza e come arte. Venuto ad annettere alla Corona britannica le isole del Sud Pacifico, James Cook descrisse così nel suo diario la visione che gli apparve quando raggiunse le coste australiane nel 1770: «Ovunque siamo, vediamo fumo durante il giorno ed incendi di notte… Quel continente è un continente di fumo». Questa arte del fuoco abilmente gestita dagli aborigeni consentiva loro di coltivare terre aride (con la tecnica agricola del debbio), di favorire certe sostanze che attirano le prede, di formare boschi aperti o mantenere praterie erbose che favorivano la caccia. Ogni giorno, centinaia di fuochi aborigeni mantenevano ciclicamente un paesaggio a mosaico che alternava campi, praterie e foreste aperte. La specificità pirofila di parte della flora australiana di arbusti è tale che ancora oggi addirittura un quinto di quelle specie hanno bisogno del fuoco per la germinazione dei loro semi.
Ma cosa volete che un piantatore di bandiere capisca in materia d’arte prometeica, lui che fin dal suo primo approccio si rivolse a colpi di moschetto agli abitanti di quelle terre? Dopo aver ampiamente sterminato gli aborigeni (passati dai 750.000 dei tempi di Cook ai 20.000 del 1920) e represso non senza resistenza le loro pratiche incendiarie al fine di introdurre bestiame e recinti, i coloni non si resero nemmeno conto che i loro allevamenti estensivi di pecore avevano sterilizzato il terreno di quel fragile ambiente in meno di una generazione. Se a questo si aggiunge il fatto che l’Australia è diventata a poco a poco una gigantesca miniera a cielo aperto (con 60.000 miniere abbandonate e 400 ancora attive), si arriva ai giganteschi incendi che stanno devastando quel continente dal mese di novembre.
In primo luogo, quel megafire ha fatto abbondantemente parlare di sé perché sta divorando un paese ricco sorpreso dalla sua furia, al punto che il suo governo attende ormai l’arrivo delle piogge estive come se fossero un nuovo messia. Poi, poiché a differenza del precedente storico di vastità ancora maggiore (un’area di 117 milioni di ettari era bruciata nel 1974-75, ossia undici volte più di oggi), questo non sta interessando solo l’interno più desertico ma direttamente il volto radioso del paese situato sulle coste orientali e meridionali: le metropoli di Sydney, Melbourne e Canberra, così come numerosi bacini di turisti (parchi nazionali e altre riserve naturali allestite). Per tre volte da novembre, è stato dichiarato lo stato d’emergenza per una settimana nelle province del New South Galles e della capitale, causando l’evacuazione forzata di 100.000 persone (tra cui 30.000 beoti vacanzieri) e l’intervento dell’esercito. Il dispiegamento sull’area di cinquemila soldati con ampi poteri — che vanno dalle evacuazioni forzate e le requisizioni di beni alla sospensione delle libertà in vigore — con aerei, gipponi blindati e navi da guerra, dà un assaggio di cosa sia una qualsiasi gestione statale di una catastrofe che mette in pericolo i suoi interessi. Un rapporto che consente anche di coordinare meglio pompieri e assassini in uniforme per gerarchizzare le priorità, poiché una infrastruttura critica da preservare viene sempre prima di qualsiasi abitazione, e una miniera di titanio, o tantalio, o torio, o nichel, o litio, o carbone, o tungsteno con cui l’Australia rifornisce a profusione l’industria di morte viene sempre prima di qualsiasi famiglia di koala.
Senza ironia, la situazione è tale da venire descritta in loco «Chernobyl del clima». Non perché l’Australia è il terzo produttore mondiale di uranio con il suo radioso giacimento Ranger sfruttato nel bel mezzo del famoso parco naturale di Kakadu per rifornire le centrali giapponesi, ma perché le colonne di fumo rilasciato nella stratosfera da questi mega-incendi che si moltiplicano dall’Amazzonia alla Siberia e dal bacino del Congo all’Artico, fungono già da modello per studiare le conseguenze di un eventuale inverno nucleare. Tuttavia, proprio come Chernobyl o Fukushima, questa catastrofe non ha proprio nulla di «naturale», la sfrenata devastazione dell’ambiente non è un semplice errore di negligenza dell’attuale organizzazione sociale suscettibile di essere corretto una volta riconosciuto dai suoi dirigenti, ma una delle ovvie conseguenze del capitalismo.
Come tutti i miti, quello di Prometeo è stato oggetto delle più diverse interpretazioni, poiché la loro funzione è proprio quella di mobilitare il passato in funzione dello sguardo da portare sul presente. E come avrebbe potuto sfuggirvi il Titano greco, lui che rubò con un atto di ribellione il fuoco sacro dell’Olimpo per portarlo agli umani, prima di essere condannato da Zeus a restare incatenato mentre un’aquila arrivava ogni giorno per divorargli il fegato? A partire da quel fuoco sottratto, simbolo di conoscenza, alcuni si sono soffermati ad esempio sugli scontati tormenti di Prometeo come una metafora della paura del futuro; altri l’hanno usato per mettere in guardia gli umani da una volontà di onnipotenza tecnica al limite dell’eccesso; e altri ancora lo hanno talvolta invocato in nome del destino mitico delle masse proletarie in marcia verso la grande sera.
Ma cosa accadrebbe in fin dei conti se, invece di rifugiarsi dietro il mito di un necessario intermediario trafficante di fuoco, ci si sbarazzasse una volta per tutte della sua figura per voltarsi verso l’utopia e agire in prima persona? Quella delle coscienze individuali insorte, quella dei favolosi Titani che spezzano le catene forgiate dagli dèi moderni dell’autorità e del progresso. Oh, come sembrerebbe allora assurdo ad ogni essere la cui protesi tecnologica non serve né da coscienza né da cuore, chiedere ai tiranni di risolvere un problema di cui sono la causa! Oh, come sembra più che mai tempo di fermare tutto noi stessi sviluppando quest’arte antica, diffusa e mirata, contro tutto ciò che ci distrugge. Perché ciò che non aveva capito un esterrefatto James Cook prima che i suoi discendenti cospargessero l’Australia di veleni, è che il problema non è il fuoco, ma contro chi e contro cosa sia indirizzato.
[Tradotto da Finimondo. Avis de tempêtes, n. 25, gennaio 2020]
From One Vulnerability, Another
On the microscopic scale, the destruction of autonomy (the reduction of spaces to determine your life) through the introduction of evermore technological prostheses can only give way to a biting despair. A sensation that correlates with the degree of depreciation and abrasion that you’re subjected to. The wheel of progress turns ever faster. Before, broad transformations in society could span several generations. Today, inside the space of one generation it sometimes seems that you’re not born in the same world. This explosion of speed requires an extraordinary capacity of human beings to adapt. In response there’s a whole range of functional “defects” towards the world’s conduct. For example this can be manifested in neurotic or bodily illnesses. Human beings don’t live isolated in outer space but indeed inhabit this planet. Every adjustment to their “habitat” influences their possibilities and capacities to reflect, but also to feel and act. This is of course not a privilege of the hyper-technological society that we know today.
We could say that every civilization works in this way. Thus the question acquires more depth; from which point on does a sharp adjustment in the habitat leads to a loss of autonomy, a suppression of freedom? If every adjustment is not in itself contrary to freedom? But these are questions that by far surpass the modest reflection of this article.
Translated by The Local Kids (Issue 7 – Summer 2021) from Avis de tempetes, #39, March 2021]
Nyctalopes
If there is one open secret that has been going around in the world of children for decades, it is undoubtedly that which the fox confided to the Little Prince: «It is only in the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye». Would it be mere coincidence that the heart that pronounced this phrase in the middle of the last century, while not wearing the military livery, slipped easily into the journalist’s rags, for example to denounce the «republican crimes» of Spain of 1936-37 in the major nationalist newspapers? Or that as a fervent admirer of a Marshal reconciling the Frrrrench people under his rule after the debacle was rewarded with a nomination to the provisional committee of the Rassemblement pour la Révolution nationale [National Popular Rally, collaborationist under the Vichy regime] (1941)? As some pointed out later on another occasion, the most important thing in matters of official trifles is not so much to be able to refuse them as to not deserve them. On 31st October [2020], therefore, his pathetic heirs of Master 2 Security and Defence of the University of Assas were not wrong in adopting the name of Saint-Exupéry for their sixteenth promotion, recognizing in him the alliance between «literary genius and military spirit: honour, respect, courage and love of country.». Apparently, it seems the essential can sometimes leap to the eyes all the same! But let’s move on.
At this unquestionably particular time, what could an organ that despises the spirit of the barracks as much as State terrorism discern on the other hand? At first glance, between a deadly pandemic justifying authoritarian measures of all kinds, strengthening of the technological prostheses from work to school right to all relationships, the environment becoming increasingly devastated and artificial under the incessant blows of industry, or the absence of utopian horizons – that «unrealized but not unrealizable dream» as was defined by someone famous « authoricidal projectile thrown upon the pavement of the civilized» — it is true that times seem more favourable to the clouds of domination than to the social tempest. And that there would almost be enough to lose the memory of the time before, as if covid-19 had swept it all away.
Forgotten the brief start of an insurrection in Greece a little more than ten years ago, which had at the same time marked a possible in the heart of old Europe and shown the limits of lack of revolutionary perspectives that go beyond a simple riotous extension? Forgotten the possibilities opened up three years later by the various of uprisings on the other side of the Mediterranean, drowned in the blood of civil wars, crushed under the military boot or suffocated by religious and democratic sirens? Forgotten the uprising in Chile of barely a year ago, so powerful in its acts combining expropriations and massive destructions in the face of the military, but retreating at the last moment so as not to cross the threshold of the irreparable unknown, in a territory still traumatized by a ferocious past? Forgotten these recent North-American riots against the police, for once capable of overcoming the old divisions by starting to question one of the pillars of domination, without however succeeding in undermining all the others, if not through the enraged action of few minorities? Forgotten even the famous movement of the yellow vests, undoubtedly deeply linked to the demand for a better State, while being able, in the very name of its reformist postulate to regain a spontaneous taste for riot in the face of the one in place, or that of sabotage against various power structures through self-organization in diffuse small groups? Nonetheless a promising example of identification of the enemy’s structures, which did not content itself with toll booths, tax centres or radars but had, for example, also pushed exploration to the relay antennas, to the homes of elected officials or the electrical systems of industrial and commercial areas.
So would hearts swollen with rage be hit by amnesia all of a sudden during the repeated confinements as a result of analysing the horror of the world behind screens, and above all failing to take to the streets in order to take it on? Conversely could it be that, although bruised by the price to pay for all these exciting unaccomplished processes, they are nevertheless not resigned in the face of what these moments of rupture also involve in terms of destructive collective joy as well as individual re-appropriations of one’s existence? When a demon of revolt once said that revolutions are made of three quarters fantasy and a quarter reality, it was certainly not to content himself with endlessly dissecting the latter in reverse in order to sharpen our actions, but because he also knew that this precious lived fantasy can upset an entire life by giving it reason other than that of delaying death for as long as possible. Then, if it is true that we can only see well with our heart, our ever ardent one cannot fail to see that the authoritarian management of the pandemic and its consequences in terms of economic restructuration and technological acceleration hasn’t come at just any time, but is colliding head-on against these last ten years of uprisings, insurrections and revolts in an attempt to turn the page.
Faced with the misery of the existent we can repeat galore that order never acts alone, that the only battles lost in advance are those that are never fought, that it is not revolutionaries who make revolutions or that when dissatisfaction and discontent accumulate sometimes it only takes a spark to ignite the powder keg of social relations (be it a war lost by the State, an increase in transport fares, the controversial management of an epidemic, the immolation of a street seller, a new drastic budget plan, the umpteenth murder at the hands of the police…) All this is right but beyond the manifestations of anger that power now intends to bury under the weight of the health emergency, another movement is also developing, becoming less and less invisible while remaining essential, in spite of what the fox in the tale might say.
It concerns the individuals and small groups that have realized that in the face of the climate catastrophe the disaster was the industrial system itself and that it was better to tackle it at the (energy) source. That in the face of alienation or technological control, the problem must be solved at the roots by cutting its veins. That in the face of the State moloch and its growing militarization against the rioters, it was time to take the initiative according to one’s own timing in an asymmetric manner, without further waiting for social movements that would overrun the established framework before burning out.
This is the case, for example, with the incendiary sabotages that relentlessly attack the electrical installations supplying the pumps of the open-cast lignite mine that is destroying the forest of Hambach (Germany), with the recent sabotages and blockages against the construction of the Coastal GasLink pipeline in British Columbia (Canada), with last October’s sabotage of a drilling machine planned to install a new wind farm in Tuscany (Italy) or with setting the offices of the State forest exploiter ONF in Aubenas (Ardèche) on fire at the beginning of October. Not to mention all the attacks that for years have been slowing down the advance of the nuclear waste landfill project in Bure, in particular with the help of sabotage against drilling along the old railway destined to serve the Cigéo works and the transportation of radioactive waste. So much beautiful energy expended to undermine those who fuel this deadly world.
Since the arrival of covid-19 at the beginning of the year and in spite of the consequent restrictions of movement that followed, the voices of the agile saboteurs have not gone silent, but their projectual autonomy has made them resonate with even more clamour during the various phases of self-confinement. If for example we consider the intentional cutting off of optic fibres and relay-antennas during the spring confinement, power can only lament the fact that the latter were put out of harm’s way just about everywhere every two days. Recently, a State lackey responsible for looking after these little problems similarly confided that over a hundred of them had suffered the same fate since the beginning of the year. If one had to give just one example of the multiple possibilities offered to bold hands in spite of the re-confinement in force since the autumn, it would perhaps be the sabotage north of Marseille of the second most important television site in the country in terms of television, radio and mobile phones, which occurred on the first of December: three and a half million people brutally disconnected, for over ten days for some!
Certainly enough to inspire the nyctalope individualities who, each in their own way, continue to light up the night to derail the trains of domination.
[Translated by Act for freedom now! from Avis de tempêtes, #36, Decembre 2020]
Off with the masks!
It wasn’t a very hot day that day. Yet the sun had shone all over the French capital. On 4th April 2019, a few men landed on the asphalt of some Paris airport. They had come from Libya with a mission: to seek the agreement of that State to unleash a vast military offensive.These men arrived in haste were emissaries of marshal Haftar, chief of the Libyan national army (LNA). Paris gave the go-ahead. A few hours later, thousands of LNA soldiers set off for the conquest of Tripoli, the Libyan capital in the hands of the national unity government (NUG), which international bodies recognized as the ‘legitimate government’ of a land torn by militias, parliaments, para-military groups, mercenaries and jihadists. Since 4th April, fighting has led to hundreds of dead and wounded between combatants and the population.
As LNA troops advanced, tens of thousands of people were fleeing, 13,000 of them just to escape from the battle of Tripoli that had begun. Other thousands prepared to board hastily improvised boats in attempts to reach Europe, which transformed the Mediterranean into a gigantic cemetery. LNA and NUG, a war between two power blocs, the one as detestable as the other. But that’s not all, it is never ‘just’ that. Other forces were at work in the shadow of ministries and gilded palaces, as in all the other bloody conflicts in North Africa, the Middle East and Central Africa: geo-political and commercial interests, balance of power and the powerful, market conquests, access to resources, military bases… all intertwined. First, though, let’s take a quick picture of marshal Haftar – it will help us to understand the rest. In 1969, Khalifa Belqasim Haftar participates in the coup that brings colonel Ghaddafi to power. In 1987, thanks to his training in prestigious Soviet schools, he leads the expedition troop of the Libyan army against Chad, whose bloody dictator Hissène Habré is backed by France and the United States. Defeated and held captive, Haftar is imprisoned in N’Djamena, the capital of Chad, where he changes flag and is entrusted by the United States with leading a ‘Haftar force’ in Chad to overthrow Ghaddafi. Another failure: in 1990, after the election of Chad president Idriss Déby, close to the Libyan leader, he is sent urgently to the United States.
By then known as ‘the Americans’ man’, Haftar settles near Langley – where the CIA is located – and starts to work unsuccessfully towards Ghaddafi’s overthrow. In 2011, Haftar returns to Libya during the uprising that will lead to the fall of colonel Ghaddafi. At the beginning of the transition, he is promoted to general lieutenant and leads the ground troops of the Libyan armed forces for a short period. But the Islamists, who are the majority in the victorious rebellion, don’t forgive him for being ‘the Americans’ man’. Yet another failure: Haftar returns to the United States to his home in Virginia at the end of 2011. Back in Libya at the beginning of 2014, a country split in two (the Tripoli area and the Tobruk area) and counting on certain international support (including France, Saudi Arabia and Egypt), the marshal decides to create his own armed force, which is joined by local militias and members of the ex-Libyan army. Meantime, ‘the Americans’ man’ who wanted to affirm himself as the strong man of the country, also secretly becomes ‘the man of the French’.
As ENI, the Italian oil company, is securing important contracts concerning oilfields controlled by the government of Tripoli, Total [a French company] sets the score with the oilfields under the control of Haftar’s LNA. In fact it is in the castle of La Celle Saint-Cloud, in Yvelines, in the presence of Macron himself that in July 2017 a first ceasefire is signed between the government of Tobruk, whose armed hand is Haftar, and that of his rival in Tripoli. Even if the French aid is initially purposely discreet, it certainly doesn’t escape the attention of many Libyans, who have seen French special forces at work, of course in the name of the ‘struggle against terrorism’, alongside Haftar’s soldiers. After all, the fact that those soldiers have weapons made in France doesn’t prevent French arms companies from also selling their weapons to the rival government in Tripoli.
The bloody game is well-known: weapons are sold like doses, doses of death, according to the goals that the State hopes to achieve. Nothing could be more simple, you can see hundreds of armoured vehicles in one base, and appropriate rocket launchers in the other, as if to favour the latter’s superiority. The former base is satisfied with its purchase, the latter is even more so as it sees the brand-new armoured vehicles exploding at the other end of their remote-controlled devices. But happiest of all are the French companies and the French State, which have made profits from both sides while following their own strategic plans. The State’s motive has nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with the chatter about respect for human life, freedom, rights and justice.
This French Republic of freedom, equality and brotherhood is as putrid as the piles of rebel corpses on which it is built and continues to accumulate all over the world. If decades of dirty wars and ‘anti-terrorist’ operations conducted by the United States and Israel have associated these two States with all kinds of filth carried out in the name of their particular interests in the minds of most of the world population, France has generally succeeded in preserving its image as a ‘country of human rights’. Despite the numerous chips on its emblem during the Algerian war and the ferocious repression of national liberation struggles in its colonies, it continues to flaunt itself as though nothing had happened. Perhaps we’re wrong, but it is also by using this cultural legacy as a shield that France has always succeeded (especially in the last decade) in waging wars without suffering too much damage and in selling its bellicose expertise all over the world. Let us take the example of regimes subjected to certain criticisms and militarily supported by France, such as Saudi Arabia in its war on Yemen, the Congo torn by eternal ‘civil wars’ often in a context of competition for the exploitation of resources and precious metals, Egypt between rebellions and their bloody repression, Morocco during the Rif revolt, and so on. And this, of course, when it is not selling off its nuclear technologies or deploying its special forces to ‘fight the terrorists’ in Chad, Mali and Syria on the YPG side. But still the mask does not fall. It didn’t fall yesterday, nor does it fall today in the face of the classic example of the ‘proxy war’ being waged by Marshal Haftar.
The French State can safely continue to shine its emblem of republican values. Moreover, it also enjoys broad consensus among its subjects – yes, let’s say it, broad consensus. A passive, tacit, or generated consensus perhaps, or whatever you want to call it, but as a matter of fact it is there and supports its State’s politics. With the exception of the emotive waves linked to the international situation during the two Gulf wars or the one in ex-Yugoslavia – but that’s going back a long time – and while taking to the streets to express opposition to the horrible tricolour business of death is the least in a country where the habit of demonstrating has not been lost, the mask obstinately refuses to fall.
And yet things are now clear: from the beginning of the revolts and their consequent repression in North Africa and the Middle East, arms sales made in France have jumped from 4.8 billion euros in 2012 to 6.8 billion euros in 2013, then to 8.2 billion in 2014, 16.9 billion in 2015 and around 20 billion euros in 2016. Arms exports thus represent more than 25 per cent of all exports from the deadly Republic. Far be it for us to want to devalue the anger that has taken to the streets in recent months; we need to point out that there is something lacking in end of the month anger, if not a lot. For example, it lacks a certain depth in looking beyond one’s own back yard, beyond a mere, insipid and increasingly costly survival.
When we rightly protest against policemen who maim demonstrators, when we denounce the companies that supply local forces with weapons, how not to make a link between these same companies and the fact that they manufacture the weapons that mutilate and kill in many other countries generously supplied by the French industry, and on a much larger scale? When we protest against fuel prices and increased taxation, how can we fail to make the link with the wars and massacres for oil in which the French State is at least co-responsible, if not instigator (as seems to be the case today of Marshal Haftar, a would-be military dictator)? It is not a question of pointing the finger at some slave in particular, but of the mechanism of voluntary servitude that aims to make us all victims and executioners, unless the chain of submission is broken. It is a question of understanding that the State of this country is a State in the widest sense of the word.
A State that takes care of everything: organizing elections and maiming its protestors, teaching human rights to other regimes and hiring mercenaries, preaching peace to countries at war and at the same time conducting military operations right, left and centre, crushing and torturing (what else is prison?) those who disturb or are superfluous and putting an omnipresent administrative apparatus at the good citizen’s disposal.
The French State is no different from its counterparts, what distinguishes them are the margins that each has to set to defend and impose the intertwined interests that the powerful have entrusted them with in the national framework. Margins of manoeuvre that create responsibilities to be paid one way or another…
And then, the humanitarian emblem of the French State must be smashed once and for all. In the nineteenth century, when this State consolidated itself on the corpses of the rioters in the colonies and the corpses of the insurgents of many revolutions drowned in blood (June 1848 and the Commune), an anarchist revolutionary, Ernest Cœurderoy, expressed a very special desire. Noting bitterly that liberal and socialist revolutionaries spent their time imagining a better State, a more just State… but basically still a totalitarian State by nature, though embellished with the values of the Great Revolution, he turned to the Cossacks. Hurrah! He wished for the descent of the Cossacks, of those vital energies hostile to chatter and political culture, of those terrible barbarians who leave only the ruins of hypocritical civilizations behind. He believed that a vast task of devastation of this world was necessary before the beginning of a vast task of building a new world.
Today, in the wars that the State is waging around the world, in the face of the repression it unleashes in the streets and at the borders, in the face of the social cannibalism it is stirring up among the population and uses to reaffirm its supremacy, chatter is useless. Denunciations are useless. Appeals to conscience are useless. First of all it is through fire that we must pass. With audacity, tearing off the mask that covers a war-mongering that would have us all accomplices. Neither their peace nor their war, Hurrah!
[Translated by Act for freedom now!, from Avis de tempêtes #16, April 2019]
To Seize the Moment, Still
While the militant entomologists continue in their dusty offices to dissect the composition of the heterogeneous movement of the yellow vests – not intersectional, proletarian, progressive or mute enough, depending on the taste – most of the antiauthoritarians ended up plunging into the battle, including those dragging their feet. Certainly while telling themselves and rightly so, that after all a social movement is nothing else than what each person makes of it. In the same way that before the Christmas holidays the school pupils entered the dance, or that demonstrations on Sundays started happening with women in yellow vests to put the spotlight on patriarchy, without mentioning the small troops of syndicalists who here or there try to reconquer ground by organising their own block. For a lot of people, in the end the question pertains to the classical mechanisms of politics, by adding rage to the anger, a tag to a slogan, in a contest of claims and presence tied to a quantitative vision of struggle.
[Translated by The Local Kids (issue 3, Winter 2019), from Avis de tempêtes, #13, January 2019]
To Seize the Moment
More than one hundred thousand enraged persons who for almost 4 weeks now occupy roundabouts and toll booths, who try to block or slow down the operating of logistical hubs and supermarkets, oil depots or at times factories, who gather each Saturday in small towns as well as big cities to attack local state headquarters and city halls, or just to destroy and loot what surrounds them. Behold, the autumn gives birth out of the blue to yet another social movement. Enough to have those who have a nose for the smell of herds come running to attempt to steer it, or just to be there where it happens, following the smell of teargas. Like during the syndicalist movement against the Loi Travail in 2016 (March till September) and its follow-up against the regulatory implementations in 2017 (September till November), or against the reform of the railway company this year (April till June). But it didn’t really go down like that this time.
[Translated by The Local Kids (issue 3, Winter 2019), from Avis de tempêtes, #12, December 2018]