Manhunt: Deadly Games review: “Lefty” Hooligan, March 2021

There’s a point in the Netflix series Manhunt: Deadly Games when ATF agent, explosives expert and good-ol-boy Earl Embry says of Richard Jewell—the man falsely accused of the 1996 Centennial Olympic Park bombing by the FBI and the media—that he was an easy target.

“Fat. Southern. Poor.” Played by Arliss Howard, Embry drawls. “He’s presumed guilty ‘cause he’s a bubba. Yeah, well … Hey, I’m a bubba.”

During the media feeding frenzy following the bombing, a newspaper posts the libelous headline “The Bubba Bomber” over Jewell’s picture. A subplot in Deadly Games involves the North Carolina Regulators militia that might as well be called bubba anarchism. Welcome to this installment of American Exceptionalism: Extremist Edition.

The FBI smeared Richard Jewell for the Olympic Park bombing and never cleared his name. Eric Rudolph committed it on the sly, then went on to bomb two abortion clinics and the Otherside Lounge, a lesbian bar in Atlanta, Georgia, taking credit for these three bombings after fleeing to the Nantahala National Forest near Murphy, North Carolina. Described as one of the most remote places in the country by Manhunt, the Nantahala is 500,000+ acres of forested wilderness, deep ravines, compact foliage and over 30,000 caves. The wilderness and surrounding area is home to militias, survivalists, sovereign citizens and other people wishing to escape the Federal government, including the North Carolina Regulators. The Regulators militia trace their lineage to Colonial times when they fought against the British during the War of Independence. According to the Manhunt storyline, the Regulators then fought against the Continental Army, turning against George Washington when he became a Federalist.

Not quite true.

The gun toting, anti-abortion, homophobic milieu of the Regulator militia is portrayed sympathetically and lovingly, especially when compared to the invading army of FBI agents trying to capture the fugitive Rudolph by unsuccessfully occupying the town of Murphy and the surrounding Nantahala wilderness. Yes, the Regulators are an all white, all male paramilitary organization, but they are depicted as defiantly resisting the Federal government by practicing a well-armed decentralized direct democracy that engages in civil disobedience and direct action. They hold regular council meetings when any member can speak and decisions are made democratically. And when the Regulator’s leader, Big John, realizes they’re being played by Rudolph and contemplates working with the Feds to hunt him down, other militia members threaten to depose him using the militia’s own rules and regulations.

But is this fictionalized portrayal of American realities actually bubba anarchism? Antifascist researchers Spencer Sunshine (“Decentralization & The U.S. Far Right”) and Matthew Lyons (“Some Thoughts On Fascism and The Current Moment”) both imply there’s an American fascist exceptionalism when it comes to the US far right’s embrace of decentralization, in contrast to traditional Fascist totalitarian centralism. Devolving American white ethnonationalism down to county, municipal, and individual levels means recognizing the possibility of an ethno-pluralism where decentralized racial nationalist enclaves can exist side by side. “These ethno-pluralist views can facilitate a politics that, on the surface at least, is not in conflict with the demands of oppressed groups,” according to Spencer Sunshine, who grants it’s an “ethnic or racial pluralism that is opposed to multicultural and cosmopolitan societies.” Matthew Lyons contends that “[m]any of today’s fascists actually advocate breaking up political entities into smaller units, and exercising totalizing control [authoritarianism] through small-scale institutions such as local government, church congregations, or the patriarchal family.” I’ve scoffed that what such far right extremists want is “libertarianism now, fascism later.” But what if this is a genuine ultra right populism that is decentralized in form yet fascist in content? A unique decentralized American fascism? America seems to be full of exceptional exceptions.

“Ayn Rand is just a bad writer,” Karl Hess said after acknowledging her influence on him. “A misogynistic, solipsistic writer. Emma Goldman is actually the source of the best in Ayn Rand.”

Sitting in the large auditorium at Moorpark College, California circa 1970, he was scheduled to give a lecture on anarchism. But only me and three other people showed up, and for the life of me I can’t remember how I heard about the talk in the days before email, the internet and social media. Karl Hess—Barry Goldwater’s speechwriter who was rumored to have coined the phrase “Extremism in defense of liberty is no vice. Moderation in pursuit of justice is no virtue.”—had turned left anarchist and industrial worker skilled in welding in 1965. From 1965 to 1971 he worked with anarchist capitalist Murray Rothbard in an attempt to unite left and right libertarianism. He got involved in the appropriate technology and back-to-the-land movements, moved to rural West Virginia, and became a survivalist. Hess eventually returned to the rightwing fold and joined the Libertarian Party in 1986.

I’m sure from Hess’s perspective, it was all just anarchism. No need to split hairs. For someone like me who kept tabs on his career, he was extremist, pragmatic and quintessentially American. I don’t subscribe to linear political spectrums, or circles where left and right tendencies meet at opposite authoritarian and libertarian poles. And constructing politics as a horseshoe doesn’t help. Karl Hess engaged in serial extremism, moving from right to left and then back right again. With A Common Sense Strategy for Survivalists and his quixotic 1992 run for governor of West Virginia, Hess arguably reimagined the rightwing politics of bubba anarchism. There was no mystic libertarian fusion, no matter his advocacy that left and right anarchism work together however.

As for Deadly Games, the producers concoct a plausible storyline, drawn from speculation rampant at the time, that the FBI approached the Regulators with evidence that Rudolph had also constructed the Olympic Park bomb—a weapon of mass murder—to tarnish his rightwing Christian hero cred for the abortion clinics and lesbian bar bombings. To prove, in fact, that Rudolph was not ideologically or religiously driven but rather motivated by a god complex desire to kill large numbers of innocent people and law enforcement personnel. The Regulator militia turns against Rudolph and the last episodes of this Manhunt series swoons over scene after scene of FBI and Regulator troops commingled, rank in rank, combing the Nantahala to ferret out Rudolph. This Fed/militia working together kumbaya moment is also pure fantasy.

I’m tempted to ask whether there’s something in the water that accounts for America’s exceptional political craziness. I understand that culture has an outsized effect on character formation, although I’m dubious about the idea of a national character. I remember never feeling more American in my sense of humor, friendlessness and informality than when I was traveling abroad and homesick. But when I was studying the Articles of Confederation—the first national government the US had before the Constitution—as a graduate student, I realized America was more committed to decentralism than I’d originally thought.

Frederick Engels wrote that: “A revolution is certainly the most authoritarian thing there is; it is the act whereby one part of the population imposes its will upon the other part by means of rifles, bayonets and cannon.” Revolutionary anarchism during the Spanish civil was rabidly anti-clerical, slaughtering priests and burning down churches as lingering instruments of feudal oppression. In my estimation, form rarely trumps content. The patriarchal, homophobic, racist content of the fascist American far right certainly supersedes their anarchistic organizational forms. Does Spanish anarchism’s vehemently atheistic, anti-religious content, with its resulting brutally authoritarian consequences, nullify its admirably decentralized structures and revolutionary governance?

As for Karl Hess, the balance sheet is decidedly mixed. During his left anarchist phase, Hess was a defender of the Black Panther Party and avid supporter of the New Left. He joined and worked in organizations like SDS and the IWW. During the same period however he worked to build bridges between left and right anarchists with Murray Rothbard—a profoundly nasty anarchist capitalist who defended property rights over liberty and presaged the alt right in his vicious racism, misogyny and homophobia—voicing nary a criticism of this piece of shit. Hess didn’t descend into vile fascist scapegoating during his final survivalist/libertarian phase, but that’s small comfort to those who appreciated his legacy. I often think that Karl Hess’s left anarchism was simply an aberration, well-intentioned but a detour from his overall rightwing trajectory.

Manhunt is intended to be an ongoing anthology series, the first season being Unabomber. Theodore Kaczynski’s anti-technology, anti-civilization rant became the cornerstone for both  rightwing green primitivism and post left anarchism, and both Ted Kaczynski and Eric Rudolph were high profile bombers eventually tracked down and captured by Janet Reno’s FBI under Louis Freeh. The acting and production values in both Unabomber and Deadly Games are excellent, although I dispute some of the history and historical interpretations in both. One nifty touch is in the last episode of Deadly Games, we see Eric Rudolph entering ADX Florence Supermax prison to serve a life sentence where he takes the cell across the hall from Ted Kaczynski.

SOURCES:
“On Authority” by Frederick Engels
Dear America and Mostly on the Edge autobiographies by Karl Hess
“Some Thoughts On Fascism and The Current Moment” by Matthew Lyons
“Decentralization & The U.S. Far Right” by Spencer Sunshine (unpublished)
Manhunt: Deadly Games by Spectrum Originals on Netflix

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American fascist exceptionalism?: “What’s Left?” September 2019 (MRR #436)

If you can’t tell the difference between glorification and ridicule—does it matter?

—Spencer Sunshine

I read recently that San Francisco’s Financial District, called “Wall Street West,” is being downgraded. The district is both downsizing economically and shrinking physically. Financial services are moving online and it’s just too damned expensive for employees in downtown banking and financial companies to live in the city anymore, thanks to the booming tech industry’s gentrifying impact on San Francisco. I remember back fondly to Sunday, February 16, 2003, when a quarter of a million people protesting Junior Bush’s invasion of Iraq shut down the Financial District and briefly the Bay Bridge. Mass anti-war protests continued to disrupt “business as usual” in Wall Street West for weeks to come.

I’d forged my leftist politics and love for street action during the ’70s, but America’s steady rightward reaction and the sudden international collapse of the Soviet bloc over the next two decades depressed the hell out of me. The resurgence of Left activism with the Iraq War was quite heartening. I wanted to be in the thick of those demonstrations despite having fractured the big toe and one of the sesamoid bones in my right foot in an accident several months before. I was hobbling around in great pain but nevertheless elated to be experiencing popular street politics once again, exhilarated to be roaming the city with a small group of friends demonstrating, blockading traffic, participating in impromptu sit-ins, engaging in general vandalism and mayhem, etc. I had my black bloc gear in hand, but I was in no shape to participate in those tactics.

Then, out of the swirling chaos, an odd vision materialized. Tony marched along Market Street at the head of a one-man parade. I’d known Tony from San Diego where he’d played in hardcore punk bands and belonged to an infamous Maoist communist party. We met again when we both moved to the Bay Area, when Tony was a postmodern Leftist studying at UC Berkeley and in post-hardcore bands. Now, he was dressed in a pure black Army combat uniform, shouting anti-war slogans. Black combat boots, black trousers with black tactical belt, black jacket over black t-shirt, black patrol cap, black megaphone. “1, 2, 3, 4; We Don’t Want Your Fucking War! 5, 6, 7, 8; Organize To Smash The State!” So why the all-black getup? Was it parody or was Tony serious? Had Tony gone full anarchist and was this a militarized black bloc outfit? Was it some homage to Third World socialist revolution, paying tribute to the VietCong and the EZLN? Had Tony joined the Army or the police and was he now a Special Forces or SWAT recruit? Had Tony perhaps gone rightwing fascist and was he aping the Falange or SS wardrobes? Or was this all camp, an elaborate, theatrical performance piece? My signals were getting crossed.

I was simultaneously intrigued and bewildered, befuddled by the semiotic mixed messages.

I’m in the middle of a three-part series on Third Positionism, a type of “red/brown” politics that claims to “go beyond Left and Right.” Those politics are dead serious about mixing far left and far right elements into a confusing new type of Fascism that, in the case of Perónism for instance, attempted to fuse extreme nationalism with pro-working class initiatives. Third Positionism might prove as baffling as my reaction to Tony, but it’s nevertheless genuine. Let’s talk instead about deliberate obfuscation by the far right in throwing up ambiguous slogans, symbols, memes, texts, ideas, etc., calculated to muddy any political or social discourse.

In Spencer Sunshine’s unpublished piece “Industrial Nazi Camouflage,”* he discusses the evolution of the industrial music scene, noted for its fascination with the taboo and transgressive. Warning that it’s never a good idea to play with Nazi imagery because you can’t control how such imagery is interpreted, Sunshine is intent on figuring out who in the industrial music scene was innocently flirting and who loved Nazism, who was being ironic and who was offering a sophisticated critique, who was obsessed and who was willing to commit, who believed in fascism theoretically and who was engaged in fascist activism. He periodizes that scene into a time when individuals and bands were fascinated with but not yet committed to Nazism, to active Nazi participation between 1986 to 1996, and finally to lying profusely about those involvements back in the day as well as their current fascist commitments. Ultimately, Sunshine suggests that if you can’t tell whether something is genuine or a joke, or someone is being upfront or engaged in camouflage, does it really matter?

Treat it all as fascism or fascist adjacent is what I say.

The otherwise insipid, reactionary, ahistorical critique of the alt-right offered by Angela Nagle in Kill All Normies does get that the far right uses intentional obfuscation and ironic misdirection as deliberate tactics, as ways to maintain plausible deniability and camouflage their true intentions. They want normies to be confused about their true message, unable to know when to take them seriously and when to shrug them off. Gavin McInnes loves to make the distinction between a liar and a bullshitter in his sad career that includes a lackluster stint as a comedian. His internet “talk shows” often featured calls to violence as in “I want violence. I want punching in the face.” But when his critics lambasted him for promoting violence he invariably deflected such criticisms by demanding “Can’t you take a joke?” In one motion, McInnes and his ilk throw out threats of violence while simultaneously denying they are being threatening or violent, masking their intentions with crude humor or irony that they then claim their viewers simply don’t get. It’s the perfect ploy for the far right to seed confusion among people trying to suss them out.

The antifascist Left is neither confused nor amused however.

What then to make of some supposedly unique, if bewildering aspects of the far right in the US? Both antifascist researchers Spencer Sunshine (“Decentralization & The U.S. Far Right”*) and Matthew Lyons (“Some Thoughts On Fascism and The Current Moment”) imply there’s an American fascist exceptionalism when it comes to the far right’s embrace of decentralization, in contrast to traditional Fascist totalitarian centralism. George Lincoln Rockwell’s American Nazi Party pioneered the shift from white supremacy to white nationalism, allowing American fascists to parry Leftist calls for “Black Power/Black Separatism” with “White Power/White Separatism,” encouraging white nationalists to work with black nationalists along pro-segregation/anti-miscegenation lines, and developing the strategy of a white ethnostate that portended scenarios of side-by-side racialist nationalism. Drawing inspiration from American history, two ultra-patriotic movements arose opposed to the power of the Federal government; the Posse Comitatus Movement of the 1960s (from posse comitatus common law traditions) and the Militia Movement of the 1990s (from the colonial/Revolutionary War institution of the independent local militia). Both took the States’ Rights Movement further right. Deeply distrustful of government beyond the county level, Posse Comitatus proposed the county sheriff as the highest lawful authority whereas the Militia Movement insisted that any armed citizenry organized into decentralized militia groups was the highest civil authority. Given the various failures of the States’ Rights Movement, elements of these two movements within the Patriot Movement now propose extending white ethnonationalism down to county, municipal and individual levels, implying the possibility of an ethno-pluralism where decentralized racial nationalist enclaves can reside concurrently. Finally, there’s leaderless resistance as put forward by KKK member Louis Beam, which uses a decentralized, horizontal structure of small, independent cells to resist what is considered a tyrannical Federal government.

“[T]hese ethno-pluralist views can facilitate a politics that, on the surface at least, is not in conflict with the demands of oppressed groups,” according to Spencer Sunshine, who acknowledges it’s an “ethnic or racial pluralism that is opposed to multicultural and cosmopolitan societies.” Matthew Lyons argues that “[m]any of today’s fascists actually advocate breaking up political entities into smaller units, and exercising totalizing control [authoritarianism] through small-scale institutions such as local government, church congregations, or the patriarchal family.” Before declaring the US far right a unique American “wild west” Third Positionism however, consider that the alt-right’s flirtations with decentralization might be at the very least a purely defensive reaction to the exigencies of battling the Federal government. At most, it may be an outright deception designed to confuse and obfuscate. That the American far right on every level is enamored with the Führerprinzip leadership principle—from their own charismatic cult leaders to a president who governs by executive decree and routinely violates the Constitution—makes it likely in any case that the far right’s much vaunted decentralism will be the first thing abandoned come their fascist revolution.

I’ve talked about the libertarian-to-fascism/alt-right pipeline before, a process as disingenuous as the industrial music scene. For me, the far right’s appropriation of the Left’s aspirations for freedom and self-determination is the sly semiotic joke here. And thus our differences with them do matter.

* Spencer says: Both essays are available as special items for Patrons who give at least $2 a month to my Patreon. However, if you’re broke (and boy have I been there), drop me a line and I’ll send you copies: www.spencersunshine.com/contact.