In a sense, we might characterize the anarchist as a man without a country, for despite the ties which bind him to the land of his childhood, he stands in precisely the same moral relationship to "his" government as he does to the government of any other country in which he might happen to be staying for a time. When I take a vacation in Great Britain, I obey its laws, both because of prudential self-interest and because of the obvious moral considerations concerning the value of order, the general good consequences of preserving a system of property, and so forth. On my return to the United States, I have a sense of reentering my country, and if I think about the matter at all, I imagine myself to stand in a different and more intimate relation to American laws. They have been promulgated by my government, and I therefore have a special obligation to obey them. But the anarchist tells me that my feeling is purely sentimental and has no objective moral basis. All authority is equally illegitimate, although of course not therefore equally worthy or unworthy of support, and my obedience to American laws, if I am to be morally autonomous, must proceed from the same considerations which determine me abroad.
Anarchy, [Graeber] writes, is about gradually figuring out new ways of organizing everyday life "which will, eventually, make currently existing forms of power seem stupid and beside the point... there are endless examples of viable anarchism: pretty much any form of organization would count as one, so long as it was not imposed by some higher authority, from a klezmer band to the international postal service."
The difference as I understand is that small scale, local decision making is supposed to take priority over the will of the national government.
Someone who escapes arbitrary interference may doso in virtue of luck, cunning, or fawning; while not suffering interference in the actual world, they may suffer it in those nearby possible worlds where their fortune, wit, or charm fail. The person who possesses antipower, however, is not dependent on such contingencies for enjoying noninterference by arbitrary power: that no one has the capacity to interfere with them at will and with impunity means that even in those nearby worlds where fortune or wit or charm fails, they still continue to enjoy noninterference. This person enjoys the noninterference resiliently, not in virtue of any accident or contingency. Their antipower gives them the capacity to command noninterference, as we might say, and itself represents a distinctive sort of power.
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