Many have had the idea of taking money from the rich, revolutionaries among them. Indeed: amid palatial banks and abundant wealth it is easy to wonder why analyses of capitalism fill miles' worth of bookshelves while big money is still flowing from bottom to top. Besides, an action to acquire money might be less humiliating than sending out another grant application. And wouldn't it feel good to relieve a project in Latin America or a group in Southeast Asia from the eternal hunt for funds? Wasn't there a man in Catalonia who took a big loan and passed the money on to political militants? Wasn't there an anarchist who channeled millions to the movement by mastering the art of forging checks? Unfortunately, among the side effects of "expropriation forte" are repression and prison sentences. A sustainable redistribution of funds needs solid crafts[persyn]ship if it wants to rest on golden floors. People engaging in such activities must have answers to a few questions: What do you want from life? Self-realization? Personal happiness? The happiness of others? Who are these others? How far away are they? Does solidarity end with your family, your friends, your country or your continent? Is your aspiration to make a revolutionary commitment or to temporarily join a working group? Do you want to grow old with your political practice? The existential framework required for illegal practice is not always comfortable: organizational discipline instead of personal self-realization, continuity instead of spontaneity, a bourgeois facade instead of subculture havens, solid convictions instead of discursive formations, secrecy instead of openness, selflessness instead of identity politics, and so on
"Turning Money into Rebellion: The Unlikely Story of Denmark's Revolutionary Bank Robbers" by former political prisoner Klaus Viehmann (imprisoned for his participation in the 2nd of July movement in Germany)











