A year ago today, I wrote a post describing the difficult time I’d had that year attending a local “Reunion” (family camp) put on by Community of Christ. That reminded me of a post I’ve been meaning to write for months about this year’s much more positive experience at Reunion, so it’s time to get those thoughts out of my head and into a post.

Over the past couple of years, I’ve read a fair amount of anarchist fiction, and I’ve found that I like it. A lot. I don’t know that I’m ready to become a committed anarchist in the real world, but I love the way that anarchist fiction does two things: first, it dares to imagine a better world than the one we live in; second, it believes that human beings are capable of collectively creating this better world—and without being forced to do. One of my favorite imaginings in this genre of fiction comes from Ursula K. LeGuin’s The Dispossessed, where Shevek (the main character, from the anarchist moon Anarres) explains to some colleagues that in his home, everyone pitches in to take care of undesirable tasks like cleaning up waste (I can’t remember if this is human waste or industrial waste or something else… I really need to get a copy of this book so I can reference it for posts like this).

This week, I’ve encountered Ursula K. LeGuin’s anarchist vision of what a university could be as well as a number of reminders of how much things aren’t like that vision.

This book was repeatedly mentioned in Scott Branson’s Practical Anarchism, so I’ve wanted to read it for a while. It took me three tries, but I finally followed through and just finished the audiobook.

It is a fascinating book for the way that it dares to imagine a way that society might be different than what we know now. Wikipedia says that the original subtitle was “An Ambiguous Utopia,” and that tracks with what I read, in that the book isn’t blindly naïve about the anarchist society that it lifts up. There are still bad people acting in bad faith, there is poverty and famine, and one of the themes of the book is about the risk of getting entrenched in old ways of thinking, even if those “old ways” are the ones portrayed as being better than “other ways.” (As an aside, the protagonist of the book is also imperfect, most notably in an act of sexual assault that he’s more or less absolved of by the narration, which is the part of the book that least sits right with me).