GIVEN the vast wealth of poetry and prose that exists in this country, both old and new, it is a great pity that more Portuguese authors have not been translated into English. As far as the English-speaking world is concerned, therefore, Portugal is viewed as some kind of cultural backwater and it was only when I came to live here some three-and-a-half years ago that I discovered what many of us had been missing out on all this time.

One of the few Portuguese literary figures who has had most of his books translated into English, on the hand, is the communist author José Saramago (1922-2010). Whilst I don’t share certain of his political views, his novels often contain many unique insights and can offer an original critique of Western civilisation. In his 2004 work, Ensaio sobre a Lucidez (Essay on Lucidity), Saramago tells the story of a capital city at the heart of an unnamed democracy.

One day, after the citizens go to the polls to vote for either the left, right or centre parties, it is discovered that over 70% of ballot papers have been left blank. Perplexed by this state of affairs, the government asks its people to return to the ballot box one week later and this time 83% of votes have been spoiled. Desperate to ascertain the precise cause behind this mass show of protest, the government ultimately finds that there is no secret conspiracy behind it at all and thus no logical explanation. Labelling these non-existent troublemakers ‘terrorists, pure and unadulterated,’ the government even rounds up 500 citizens at random and has them jailed and interrogated. Again, there is no evidence of a conspiracy.

As Saramago’s novel reaches its climax, the government has resorted to inventing subversive plots in order to flush out any would-be extremists and even creates its own revolutionary leader. Finally, the government decides to remove its police from the city, transfers the seat of national power to another location and then seals the city altogether. In effect, the powers-that-be have become so utterly paranoid in the face of the people’s silent unity that they have effectively removed themselves from the equation.

In many ways, this little tale is rather similar to what we are hoping to achieve with National-Anarchism. Rather than seek direct conflict with powerful nation-states that would gladly crush us in an instant, we believe that it is far more productive to erode their power through non-cooperation. Once we stop buying into their System and use alternatives that strengthen our own communities at their expense – be it home education, localised currencies, black marketeering, homegrown produce or anything else – they, too, will begin to dissipate and withdraw in the way that Saramago’s fictional government was ousted by an unspoken amalgamation of determined citizens.