IN DEFENSE OF ANARCHISM
ROBERT PAUL WOLFF
In Defence of Anarchism is a text I instinctively respond to, even as I find myself unable to endorse all its conclusions. Even as its intellectual bases have, gradually, been chipped away, the book’s unapologetic celebration of the individual’s moral autonomy still seems to reach after the gut principles which motivate my work.
As my first serious introduction to English literature, this book painted a raw, almost bizarre, picture of the Yorkshire moors. And yet, I found disturbing echoes of its destructive, dysfunctional, hysterical strains in the small Indian town of my childhood. As such, the novel was for me not a window into a different world but an unsparing mirror. Wuthering Heights postponed for me the realisation that the world was a saner, gentler place after all. But during my nourishing college days in Bangalore, I still owed much to the state of unease in which it left me.