Cap K

When faced with the problem of the historical oppression, the aff’s solution is to simply integrate the native into the proletariat, forcing capitalism further and further into lands and onto subjects that do not comform with it.  The aff’s assimilative strategy has been at the root of historical oppression in America from the Dawes act to casinos.
Duffy and Stubben,  98 (Diane, assistant professor of political science at Iowa State University, and Jerry, adjunct associate professor in the Professional Studies Department at ISU, former chair of the American Indian Studies Program at ISU, Studies in Comparative International Development, v32, issue 4, 1998 Winter)

The second major implication of the United States' Indian economic policies was that it created confusion among Indians. Concepts such as private property and contractual agreements were not part of the Indian conceptual map, nor were norms that put a premium on bureaucratic values like routinization, efficiency, professionalization, secularity, differentiation, and specialization. While Anglo-American conceptualizations emphasized economic growth and increased income as a mechanism to acquire material goods through exchange between two parties, traditional societies conceived of goods exchange in an entirely different light. For Indians, exchange was part of a gift-giving tradition that not only created economic bonds, but also psychological, social, and spiritual ones. Such exchanges fostered decentralized cohesion by creating a series of interconnected relationships emphasizing cooperation and sharing in the economic sphere (Pommersheim, 213). Because of these differences, economic development according to Anglo-American culture amounted to a paradigm shift for Indians.[14] White culture emphasized individuality, the profit motive, and material accumulation; Indian cultures are oriented toward the collective and, while the individual was important, he or she was socialized to think in terms of the collective good. For many Indians, social and cultural continuities remain important, including kinship relations, indigenous patterns of community and thought, and systems of meaning and interpretation (Cornell and Kalt 1990). The view of economic life that the white culture advocates requires a mental reorientation for Native Americans. Rather than thinking in terms of connectedness, oneness between the physical and spiritual world, group rather than individual concerns, and agreed upon (rather than stipulated) modes of action, Indians increasingly have had to compartmentalize their lives to accommodate and interact with the dominant (white) culture in economic development efforts. Some have made the transition completely, some reject the white conceptualization, other switch between Indian and white paradigms depending on the situation.  

Capitalism is the root cause of their impacts and the aff does nothing about it
DR. ALBERTA YEBOAH (ASSOCIATE PROFESSOR OF SOCIAL SCIENCE  COLLEGE OF EDUCATION AND HUMAN DEVELOPMENT  JACKSON STATE UNIVERSITY) No date
(“”POLITICAL, ECONOMIC, AND SOCIAL CONDITIONS OF   NATIVE AMERICANS IN THE UNITED STATES AND AFRICANS IN SOUTH   AFRICA: A COMPARISON”, http://ghaa.jsums.edu/journals/articles/albertapaperfinalcopy.pdf) chip
It is common knowledge that the economic conditions of both Native Americans in the   United States and Blacks in South Africa is fraught with poverty, unemployment, and lack of   resources in the reservations and the homelands that both groups were thrown into through the   Indian Removal Act and the Group Areas Act respectively. For most Native Americans and   Black South Africans, their economic conditions have worsened since the 1950s which has   resulted in many of them migrating to urban areas in search of better economic opportunities. In   this section, the poverty, unemployment, and lack of resources that exist among both groups are   analyzed and compared.   The loss of land to European colonizers by both Native Americans and Black South   Africans led to the destruction of their traditional economies and the imposition of European   economic systems which both groups have found difficult to adjust to. The loss of land also led   to loss of the resources that were sustaining both groups before the invasion of Europeans.   Economic exploitation of the two groups led to the growth of industrial capitalism, building of   large wealthy cities, and economic and technological advancement for Europeans while both   groups became poorer and poorer particularly after the 1950s. One of the most unfortunate consequences of the pervasive poor economic conditions of Native Americans in the United   States is that about 43 percent of Native American children under the age of five live in poverty   (Food Research and Action Center [FRAC], 2001).   Native Americans lost millions of acres of land to Europeans during the westward   expansion in the 1880s and millions more acres were lost with the breakup of the remaining   lands under the 1887 Dawes Act (Banks, 2003; Feagin & Feagin, 2008; Hildebrand et al.,   (2000); Schaefer, 2004). According to Banks, most Native Americans became poverty-stricken   after the passage of the Dawes Act, and when they lost about 90 million acres of land out of 138   million acres between 1887 and 1932. Unfortunately, Native Americans have never recovered   from the state of abject poverty that most of them were thrown into after the Dawes Act.   Unemployment or marginal employment (employment in low wage jobs), which are sources of   poverty among Native Americans, have been persisting economic problems for them, especially   since the 1950s. Before 1940, most Native American males were poor farmers and unskilled   workers. The proportion of farm occupations has however dropped from 68% in 1940 to 5% in   2002 (Feagin and Feagin). Native Americans, before and especially after the 1950s have been   concentrated in the secondary labor market which is characterized by job instability, low wages,   and little to no upward mobility (Banks; Feagin & Feagin; Schaeffer). The bleak employment   picture of Native Americans was vividly painted by Feagin and Feagin when they wrote,  Today, Native Americans are far less likely than U. S. workers to hold managerial   or professional positions (26.1 percent versus 34.1 percent). Native American   men tend to be concentrated in blue-collar and service-sector jobs while most   Native American women hold clerical, sales, or service-sector jobs. [In some   white-collar occupational categories, Native Americans are very rare. For   example, as of Spring, 2001, there were in the United States and Canada together,   only seven Native American broadcast reporters]. Through the years,   unemployment rates for Native Americans, [both on and off reservations], have   been far higher than for most other groups. In 1940, one-third of all Native   American men were unemployed, compared with fewer than one-tenth of white men. By 1960, the rate had risen to 38 percent, compared with just 5 percent for   all men. This increase reflected in part the move from agriculture to the less   certain work opportunities in urban areas. [By 1970, the rate had dropped to 12   percent for Native American men, still three times the national figure]. By 1990   the unemployment rate had dropped but was still high. For Native American men,   the 15 percent was also three times that of white men, and the 13.1 percent rate   for Native American women was almost three times that of white women. In that   year, the unemployment rate for Native Americans living on reservations was   much higher, at 26 percent; [on some reservations the rate exceeded 50   percent....Native Americans have endured the longest depression-like economic   situation of any U.S. racial or ethnic group] (pp.153 - 155). 

The aff’s obsession with an environmental apocalypse only distracts from the structural problems of capitalism, they can only see warming as threatening in so far as it is threatening to the bourgeois class.  To them indigenous populations are nothing more than environmental slaves.
Crist (Prof in Department of Science and Technology in Society @ Virginia Tech) 7
(Eileen, Beyond the Climate Crisis: A Critique of Climate Change Discourse, Telos 4 (Winter 2007): 29–55) 

Besides coddling humanity’s proclivity for self-centered concern,  apocalyptic thinking directs attention toward some future Hollywood-  style cataclysm, while dimming awareness of the present and real suffering  of nonhumans, disempowered and impoverished people, and consumers beleaguered by clutter and malaise. Life’s ongoing devastation, and  humanity’s pathological imbalance with wild nature and schisms within  itself, are the predicaments that we are called to face—not the preemption  of some imagined crash in some imagined future.  

And their state-based financial strategy can only ever legitimate and perpetuate the structures they attempt to fix.  The systematic genocide of indigenous populations should not be so easily forgiven. Instead of integrating the indigenous into American state-based capitalism, we lash out violently against the structures that have historically been the cause of oppression.
Churchill ‘8
Ward Churchill, “I Am Indigenist,” November 18, 2008, http://www.zcommunications.org/i-am-indigenist-by-ward-churchill
Let me say, before I go any further, that I am hardly unique or alone in adopting this perspective. It is a complex of ideas, sentiments, and understandings which motivates the whole of the American Indian Movement, broadly defined, here in North America. This is true whether you call it AIM, or Indians of All Tribes (as was done during the 1969 occupation of Alcatraz), the Warriors Society (as was the case with the Mohawk rebellion at Oka in 1990), Women of All Red Nations, or whatever.1 It is the spirit of resistance that shapes the struggles of traditional Indian people on the land, whether the struggle is down at Big Mountain, in the Black Hills, or up at James Bay, in the Nevada desert or out along the Columbia River in what is now called Washington State.2 In the sense that I use the term, indigenism is also, I think, the outlook that guided our great leaders of the past: King Philip and Pontiac, Tecumseh and Creek Mary and Osceola, Black Hawk, Nancy Ward and Satanta, Lone Wolf and Red Cloud, Satank and Quannah Parker, Left Hand and Crazy Horse, Dull Knife and Chief Joseph, Sitting Bull, Roman Nose and Captain Jack, Louis Ríel and Poundmaker and Geronimo, Cochise and Mangus, Victorio, Chief Seattle, and on and on.3 In my view, those, Indian and non-Indian alike, who do not recognize these names and what they represent have no sense of the true history—the reality—of North America. They have no sense of where they've come from or where they are and thus can have no genuine sense of who or what they are. By not looking at where they've come from, they cannot know where they are going or where it is they should go. It follows that they cannot understand what it is they are to do, how to do it, or why. In their confusion, they identify with the wrong people, the wrong things, the wrong tradition. They therefore inevitably pursue the wrong goals and objectives, putting last things first and often forgetting the first things altogether, perpetuating the very structures of oppression and degradation they think they oppose. Obviously, if things are to be changed for the better in this world, then this particular problem must itself be changed as a matter of first priority.     In any event, all of this is not to say that I think I am one of the significant people I have named, or the host of others, equally worthy, who've gone unnamed. I have no "New Age" conception of myself as the reincarnation of someone who has come before. But it is to say that I take these  ancestors as my inspiration, as the only historical examples of proper attitude and comportment on this continent, this place, this land on which I live and of which I am a part. I embrace them as my heritage, my role models, the standard by which I must measure myself. I try always to be worthy of the battles they fought, the sacrifices they made. For the record, I have always found myself wanting in this regard, but I subscribe to the notion that one is obligated to speak the truth, even if one cannot live up to or fully practice it. As Chief Dan George once put it, I "endeavor to persevere," and I suppose this is a circumstance which is shared more-or-less equally by everyone presently involved in what I refer to as "indigenism."     Others whose writings and speeches and actions may be familiar, and who fit the definition of indigenist—or "Fourth Worlder," as we are sometimes called—include Winona LaDuke and John Trudell, Simon Ortiz, Russell Means and Leonard Peltier, Glenn Morris and Leslie Silko, Jimmie Durham, John Mohawk and Oren Lyons, Bob Robideau and Dino Butler, Ingrid Washinawatok and Dagmar Thorpe. There are scholars and attorneys like Vine Deloria, Don Grinde, Pam Colorado, Sharon Venne, George Tinker, Bob Thomas, Jack Forbes, Rob Williams and Hank Adams. There are poets like Wendy Rose, Adrian Louis, Dian Million, Chrystos, Elizabeth Woody and Barnie Bush.     There are also many grassroots warriors in the contemporary world, people like the Dann sisters, Bernard Ominayak, Art Montour and Buddy Lamont, Madonna Thunderhawk, Anna Mae Aquash, Kenny Kane and Joe Stuntz, Minnie Garrow and Bobby Garcia, Dallas Thundershield, Phyllis Young, Andrea Smith and Richard Oaks, Margo Thunderbird, Tina Trudell and Roque Duenas. And, of course, there are the elders, those who have given, and continue to give, continuity and direction to indigenist expression; I am referring to people like Chief Fools Crow and Matthew King, Henry Crow Dog and Grampa David Sohappy, David Monongye and Janet McCloud and Thomas Banyacya, Roberta Blackgoat and Katherine Smith and Pauline Whitesinger, Marie Leggo and Phillip Deer and Ellen Moves Camp, Raymond Yowell and Nellie Red Owl.4     Like the historical figures I mentioned earlier, these are names representing positions, struggles, and aspirations which should be well-known to every socially-conscious person in North America. They embody the absolute antithesis of the order represented by the "Four Georges"—George Washington, George Custer, George Patton and George Bush—emblemizing the sweep of "American" history as it is conventionally taught in that system of indoctrination the United States passes off as "education." They also stand as the negation of that long stream of "Vichy Indians"5 spawned and deemed "respectable" by the process of predation, colonialism, and genocide the Four Georges signify.     The names I have listed cannot be associated with the legacy of the "Hang Around the Fort" Indians, broken, disempowered, and intimidated by their conquerors, or with the sellouts who undermined the integrity of their own cultures, appointed by the United States to sign away their peoples' homelands in exchange for trinkets, sugar, and alcohol. They are not the figurative descendants of those who participated in the assassination of people like Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull, and who filled the ranks of the colonial police to enforce an illegitimate and alien order against their own. They are not among those who have queued up to roster the régimes installed by the U.S. to administer Indian Country from the 1930s onward, the craven puppets who to this day cling to and promote the "lawful authority" of federal force as a means of protecting their positions of petty privilege, imagined prestige, and often their very identities as native people. No, indigenists and indigenism have nothing to do with the sorts of Quisling impulses driving the Ross Swimmers, Dickie Wilsons, Webster Two Hawks, Peter McDonalds, Vernon Bellecourts and David Bradleys of this world.6     Instead, indigenism offers an antidote, a vision of how things might be that is based in how things have been since time immemorial, and how things must be once again if the human species, and perhaps the planet itself, is to survive much longer. Predicated on a synthesis of the wisdom attained over thousands of years by indigenous, landbased peoples around the globe—the Fourth World or, as Winona LaDuke puts it, "The Host World upon which the first, second and third worlds all sit at the present time"—indigenism stands in diametrical opposition to the totality of what might be termed "Eurocentric business as usual."7 

This is the only effective strategy, reform is doomed to failure
O'Shea 2005
(Louise , , Editor of The Socialist Alternative “Understanding Marxism: Reform or Revolution?”, Socialist Alternative, Volume: 91, http://www.sa.org.au/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=648&Itemid=106, Accessed: 7-9-9 )
Luxemburg published a response to Bernstein in 1899 entitled Social Reform or Revolution. She mercilessly ridiculed the idea that capitalism could be reformed out of existence, likening the prospect to "chang[ing] the sea of capitalist bitterness into a sea of socialist sweetness by progressively pouring into it bottles of social-reformist lemonade".
Her central argument was that to abandon the struggle for revolution in favour of reforms meant the abandonment of the struggle for socialism altogether. As Luxemburg put it, "whoever opts for the path of legal reform, in place of and in contradistinction to the conquest of political power, actually chooses not a calmer and slower road to the same aim, but a different aim altogether".
Bernstein argued that trade unions and workers' cooperatives had the potential to transform capitalism into socialism. The main aim of trade unions, Luxemburg argued, was to "regulate capitalist exploitation within the market relations", by improving workers' wages and conditions, but not to overthrow the system of wage labour altogether. So a struggle limited by the unions would only result in a society characterised by more equitable distribution of wealth between workers and bosses. Revolution opens the prospect of a society without class divisions of any sort.
The same logic applied to the capitalist state. As Engels outlined in 1898, the state is a product of irreconcilable class divisions, the means by which "the most powerful, economically dominant class" goes about "holding down and exploiting the oppressed class". As such, its main function is to maintain capitalist order, not challenge it.
This point was brutally demonstrated in Germany during the revolution of 1918. Inspired by the Russian Revolution and enraged by the slaughter of the First World War, German workers rose up, forcing the Kaiser to flee. The remnants of the old regime turned to the SPD, by then controlled by the reformists, to form a government that could head off further revolutionary change.
Luxemburg had led a split from the SPD the previous December to form an explicitly revolutionary organisation. Now her former comrades savagely crushed the revolution. SPD Minister Noske personally oversaw the hunting down and murder of Luxemburg and her collaborator, Karl Liebknecht, also a former SPD leader, in January 1919.
The events in Germany clearly indicate that far from socialists being able to impose their interests on the capitalist state, the state instead forces them to conform to the needs of maintaining capitalist order and the bosses' profits - which puts them on the wrong side of the barricades in the struggle for socialism.
And if reformers go too far against the interests of capital, Luxemburg was also clear about the consequences. She described how "as soon as democracy shows the tendency to negate its class character and become transformed into an instrument of the people, the democratic forms are sacrificed by the bourgeoisie and its staterepresentatives."

And their use of green technology only allows for the smooth functioning of oppressive capitalism continuing environmental harms and destroying change to the system

Foster 2k (John B., PhD, York University, “Capitalism’s Environmental Crisis: Is Technology the Answer?” December 1, http://monthlyreview.org/2000/12/01/capitalisms-environmental-crisis-is-technology-the-answer, JM)
The standard solution offered to the environmental problem in advanced capitalist economies is to shift technology in a more benign direction: more energy-efficient production, cars that get better mileage, replacement of fossil fuels with solar power, and recycling of resources. Other environmental reforms, such as reductions in population growth and even cuts in consumption, are often advocated as well. The magic bullet of technology, however, is by far the favorite, seeming to hold out the possibility of environmental improvement with the least effect on the smooth working of the capitalist machine. The 1997 International Kyoto Protocol on global warming, designed to limit the greenhouse-gas emissions of nations, has only reinforced this attitude, encouraging many environmental advocates in the United States (including Al Gore in his presidential campaign) to advocate technological improvement in energy efficiency as the main escape from the environmental mess. There are two ways in which technological change can lower environmental impact. First, it can reduce the materials and energy used per unit of output and, second, it can substitute less harmful technology. Much of the improvement in air quality since the nineteenth century, including its aesthetics, resulted from the reduction in the smoke and sulfur dioxide emissions for which coal-burning is notorious. Solar energy, in contrast to other present and prospective sources of energy, is not only available in inexhaustible supply (though limited at any given time and place), but is also ecologically benign. Environmentalists in general therefore prefer a shift to solar energy. Such considerations have encouraged the view that all stops should be pulled out on promoting technologies that increase efficiency, particularly of energy, and use more benign productive processes that get rid of the worst pollutants. I want to concentrate here on the energy efficiency part of this. The issue of the materials used and the production technology are much more intractable problems under the current regime of accumulation. One of the reasons for this is that current productive processes often involve toxins of the worst imaginable kind. For example, we know that the proliferation of synthetic chemicals, many of which are extraordinarily harmful—carcinogenic and teratogenic—is associated with the growth of the petrochemical industry and agribusiness, producing products such as plastics and pesticides. (This was the central message of Barry Commoner’s Closing Circle.) Yet attempts to overcome this dependence on toxic production create a degree of resistance from the vested interests of the capitalist order that only a revolutionary movement could surmount. In contrast, straightforward improvements in energy efficiency have always been emphasized by capital itself, and fall theoretically within the domain of what the system is said to be able to accomplish—even what it prides itself in. In the past, it was common for environmentalists to compare the problems of the “three worlds” using the well-known environmental impact or “PAT” formula (Population x Affluence x Technology=Environmental Impact). The third world’s environmental problems, according to this dominant perspective, could be seen as arising first and foremost from population growth rather than technology or affluence (given the low level of industrialization). The environmental problems of the Soviet bloc were attributed to its inferior technology, which was less efficient in terms of materials and energy consumed per unit of out-put, and more toxic in its immediate, localized environmental effects, than in the West. The West’s chief environmental problem, in contrast, was attributed neither to its population growth nor its technology (areas in which it had comparative environmental advantages), but to its affluence and the growing burden that this imposed on the environment. The ace in the hole for the wealthy capitalist countries was always seen to be their technological prowess—which would allow them to promote environmental improvements while also expanding their affluence (that is, growth of capital and consumption). What likelihood then is there that new or newly applied technology will be able to prevent environmental degradation from expanding along with the economy? 

This dooms the aff’s environmental projects to inefficacy.  Capitalism is the root cause of environmental issues and only breaking it down can change anything.
Foster 10 (John Bellamy, prof of sociology @ U of Oregon, “ Why Ecological Revolution?” Monthly Review Vol. 61.8 January JF)
It is now universally recognized within science that humanity is confronting the prospect—if we do not soon change course—of a planetary ecological collapse. Not only is the global ecological crisis becoming more and more severe, with the time in which to address it fast running out, but the dominant environmental strategies are also forms of denial, demonstrably doomed to fail, judging by their own limited objectives. This tragic failure, I will argue, can be attributed to the refusal of the powers that be to address the roots of the ecological problem in capitalist production and the resulting necessity of ecological and social revolution. The term “crisis,” attached to the global ecological problem, although unavoidable, is somewhat misleading, given its dominant economic associations. Since 2008, we have been living through a world economic crisis—the worst economic downturn since the 1930s. This has been a source of untold suffering for hundreds of millions, indeed billions, of people. But insofar as it is related to the business cycle and not to long-term factors, expectations are that it is temporary and will end, to be followed by a period of economic recovery and growth—until the advent of the next crisis. Capitalism is, in this sense, a crisis-ridden, cyclical economic system. Even if we were to go further, to conclude that the present crisis of accumulation is part of a long-term economic stagnation of the system—that is, a slowdown of the trend-rate of growth beyond the mere business cycle—we would still see this as a partial, historically limited calamity, raising, at most, the question of the future of the present system of production.1 When we speak today of the world ecological crisis, however, we are referring to something that could turn out to be final, i.e., there is a high probability, if we do not quickly change course, of a terminal crisis—a death of the whole anthropocene, the period of human dominance of the planet. Human actions are generating environmental changes that threaten the extermination of most species on the planet, along with civilization, and conceivably our own species as well. What makes the current ecological situation so serious is that climate change, arising from human-generated increases in greenhouse gas emissions, is not occurring gradually and in a linear process, but is undergoing a dangerous acceleration, pointing to sudden shifts in the state of the earth system. We can therefore speak, to quote James Hansen, director of NASA’s Goddard Institute for Space Studies, and the world’s most famous climate scientist, of “tipping points…fed by amplifying feedbacks.”2 Four amplifying feedbacks are significant at present: (1) rapid melting of arctic sea ice, with the resulting reduction of the earth’s albedo (reflection of solar radiation) due to the replacement of bright, reflective ice with darker blue sea water, leading to greater absorption of solar energy and increasing global average temperatures; (2) melting of the frozen tundra in northern regions, releasing methane (a much more potent greenhouse gas than carbon dioxide) trapped beneath the surface, causing accelerated warming; (3) recent indications that there has been a drop in the efficiency of the carbon absorption of the world’s oceans since the 1980s, and particularly since 2000, due to growing ocean acidification (from past carbon absorption), resulting in faster carbon build-up in the atmosphere and enhanced warming; (4) extinction of species due to changing climate zones, leading to the collapse of ecosystems dependent on these species, and the death of still more species.3 Due to this acceleration of climate change, the time line in which to act before calamities hit, and before climate change increasingly escapes our control, is extremely short. In October 2009, Luc Gnacadja, executive secretary of the United Nations Convention to Combat Desertification, reported that, based on current trends, close to 70 percent of the land surface of the earth could be drought-affected by 2025, compared to nearly 40 percent today.4 The United Nations Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) has warned that glaciers are melting throughout the world and could recede substantially this century. Rivers fed by the Himalyan glaciers currently supply water to countries with around 3 billion people. Their melting will give rise to enormous floods, followed by acute water shortages.5 Many of the planetary dangers associated with current global warming trends are by now well-known: rising sea levels engulfing islands and low-lying coastal regions throughout the globe; loss of tropical forests; destruction of coral reefs; a “sixth extinction” rivaling the great die-downs in the history of the planet; massive crop losses; extreme weather events; spreading hunger and disease. But these dangers are heightened by the fact that climate change is not the entirety of the world ecological crisis. For example, independently of climate change, tropical forests are being cleared as a direct result of the search for profits. Soil destruction is occurring, due to current agribusiness practices. Toxic wastes are being diffused throughout the environment. Nitrogen run-off from the overuse of fertilizer is affecting lakes, rivers, and ocean regions, contributing to oxygen-poor “dead zones.”  Since the whole earth is affected by the vast scale of human impact on the environment in complex and unpredictable ways, even more serious catastrophes could conceivably be set in motion. One growing area of concern is ocean acidification due to rising carbon dioxide emissions. As carbon dioxide dissolves, it turns into carbonic acid, making the oceans more acidic. Because carbon dioxide dissolves more readily in cold than in warm water, the cold waters of the arctic are becoming acidic at an unprecedented rate. Within a decade, the waters near the North Pole could become so corrosive as to dissolve the living shells of shellfish, affecting the entire ocean food chain. At the same time, ocean acidification appears to be reducing the carbon uptake of the oceans, speeding up global warming.6

Our goal is not to accommodate these racist and destructive capitalist structures or to fit into a role in them, instead it is to revolt, to join in revolution an resist
Churchill ‘3
Ward Churchill, 2003, “Acts of Rebellion: The Ward Churchill Reader,” Questia, Page 110
Regardless of the angle from which you view the matter, the liberation of Native North America, liberation of the land first and foremost, is the key to fundamental and positive social changes of many other sorts. One thing, as they say, leads to another. The question has always been, of course, which “thing” is to be first in the sequence. A preliminary formulation for those serious about achieving (rather than merely theorizing and endlessly debating) radical change in the United States might be “First Priority to First Americans. ” Put another way, this would mean, “U. S. Out of Indian Country. ” Inevitably, the logic leads to what we’ve all been so desperately seeking: The U. S. —at least as we’ve come to know it—can be permanently banished from the planet. In its stead, surely we can join hands to create something new and infinitely better. That’s our vision of “impossible realism. ” Isn’t it time we all went to work on attaining it?

And it’s the aff’s denial of violence in the face of oppression that is truly amoral and violent. Only the alt’s violent intervention is really ethical.
Gelderloos 05
Peter, author and community organizer for Human Rights Society of Uzbekistan How Non violence protects the state http://zinelibrary.info/files/How%20Nonviolence%20Protects%20The%20State.pdf
Efforts to actually define violence lead to two outcomes. Either violence is defined literally as something that causes pain or fear, and it cannot be considered an immoral thing because it includes natural activities such as giving birth or eating other living beings to stay alive, or violence is defined with a moral concern for outcomes, in which case inaction or being ineffective in the face of a greater violence must also be considered violent. Either definition excludes nonviolence— the first because violence is inevitable and normal, and the second because nonviolence must be considered violent if it fails to end a system of violence, and also because all privileged people must be considered complicit in violence whether or not they consider themselves pacifists. But pacifists still delude themselves into thinking that violence is sufficiently defined that we can pretend the use of violence has certain, inevitable psychological consequences.

Their denial of violence is privileged racism
Gelderloos 05
Peter, author and community organizer for Human Rights Society of Uzbekistan How Non violence protects the state http://zinelibrary.info/files/How%20Nonviolence%20Protects%20The%20State.pdf
I do not mean to exchange insults, and I use the epithet racist only after careful consideration. Nonviolence is an inherently privileged position in the modern context. Besides the fact that the typical pacifist is quite clearly white and middle class, pacifism as an ideology comes from a privileged context. It ignores that violence is already here; that violence is an unavoidable, structurally integral part of the current social hierarchy; and that it is people of color who are most affected by that violence. Pacifism assumes that white people who grew up in the suburbs with all their basic needs met can counsel oppressed people, many of whom are people of color, to suffer patiently under an inconceivably greater violence, until such time as the Great White Father is swayed by the movement's demands or the pacifists achieve that legendary "critical mass."

 
AND, DON’T MISUNDERSTAND US, IT IS THE ACT OF REVOLUTION ITSELF THAT CREATES VALUE TO LIFE, NOT ANY SORT OF UTOPIAN SOCIETY
ZIZEK 2 (A Plea for Leninist Intolerance Author(s): Slavoj Zizek Reviewed work(s): Source: Critical Inquiry, Vol. 28, No. 2 (Winter, 2002), pp. 542-566 Published by: The University of Chicago Press Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1344281)
The Leninist Utopia Which, then, is the criterion of the political act? Success as such clearly doesn't count, even if we define it in the dialectical way of Merleau-Ponty, as the wager that future will retroactively redeem our present horrible acts (this is how, in his Humanism and Terror, Merleau-Ponty provided one of the more intelligent justifications of the Stalinist terror: retroactively, it will become justified if its final outcome will be true freedom)53; neither does the reference to some abstract-universal ethical norms. The only criteria is the absolutely INHERENT one: that of the ENACTED UTOPIA. In a proper revolutionary breakthrough, the utopian future is neither simply fully realized, present, nor simply evoked as a distant promise which justified present violence - it is rather as if, in a unique suspension of temporality, in the short-circuit between the present and the future, we are - as if by Grace - for a brief time allowed to act AS IF the utopian future is (not yet fully here, but) already at hand, just there to be grabbed. Revolution is not experienced as a present hardship we have to endure for the happiness and freedom of the future generations, but as the present hardship over which this future happiness and freedom already cast their shadow - in it, we ALREADY ARE FREE WHILE FIGHTING FOR FREEDOM, we ALREADY ARE HAPPY WHILE FIGHTING FOR HAPPINESS, no matter how difficult the circumstances. Revolution is not a Merlo-Pontyan wager, an act suspended in the futur anterieur, to be legitimized or delegitimized by the long term outcome of the present acts; it is as it were ITS OWN ONTOLOGICAL PROOF, an immediate index of its own truth.  Let us recall the staged performance of "Storming the Winter Palace" in Petrograd, on the third anniversary of the October Revolution, on 7 November 1920. Tens of thousands of workers, soldiers, students and artists worked round the clock, living on kasha (the tasteless wheat porridge), tea and frozen apples, and preparing the performance at the very place where the event "really took place" three years earlier; their work was coordinated by the Army officers, as well as by the avant-garde artists, musicians and directors, from Malevich to Meyerhold. Although this was acting and not "reality," the soldiers and sailors were playing themselves - many of them not only actually participated in the event of 1917, but were also simultaneously involved in the real battles of the Civil War that were raging in the near vicinity of Petrograd, a city under siege and suffering from severe shortages of food. A contemporary commented on the performance: "The future historian will record how, throughout one of the bloodiest and most brutal revolutions, all of Russia was acting"54; and the formalist theoretician Viktor Shklovski noted that "some kind of elemental process is taking place where the living fabric of life is being transformed into the theatrical."55 We all remember the infamous self-celebratory First of May parades that were one of the supreme signs of recognition of the Stalinist regimes - if one needs a proof of how Leninism functioned in an entirely different way, are such performances not the supreme proof that the October Revolution was definitely NOT a simple coup d'etat by the small group of Bolsheviks, but an event which unleashed a tremendous emancipatory potential?  The archetypal Eisensteinian cinematic scene rendering the exuberant orgy of revolutionary destructive violence (what Eisenstein himself called "a veritable bacchanalia of destruction") belongs to the same series: when, in October, the victorious revolutionaries penetrate the wine cellars of the Winter Palace, they indulge there in the ecstatic orgy of smashing thousands of the expensive wine bottles; in Behzin Meadow, after the village Pioneers discovers the body of the young Pavlik, brutally murdered by his own father, they force their way into the local church and desecrate it, robbing it of its relics, squabbling over an icon, sacrilegiously trying on vestments, heretically laughing at the statuary... In this suspension of the goal-oriented instrumental activity, we effectively get a kind of Bataillean "unrestrained expenditure" - the pious desire to deprive the revolution of this excess is simply the desire to have a revolution without revolution. It is against this background that one should approach the delicate issue of revolutionary violence which is an authentic act of liberation, not just a blind passage a l'acte.56 And did we not get exactly the same scene in the Great Cultural Revolution in China, with the thousands of Red Guardists ecstatically destroying old historical monuments, smashing old vases, desecrating old paintings, chirping off old walls?57 In spite of (or, rather, because of) all its horrors, the Great Cultural Revolution undoubtedly did contain elements of such an enacted utopia. At its very end, before the agitation was blocked by Mao himself (since he already achieved his goal of reestablishing his full power and getting rid of the top nomenklatura competition), there was the "Shanghai Commune": one million workers who simply took the official slogans seriously, demanding the abolition of the State and even the Party itself, and the direct communal organization of society. It is significant that it was at this very point that Mao ordered the restoration of order. 

WE ARE ALL CONDEMNED. FAIL OR SUCCEED, WE CAN ONLY FIND MEANING IN THE COMMUNAL STRUGGLE OF THE ALTERNATIVE.
SOLOMON 8 (facing death together: camus’s the plague Robert C. Solomon Art and Ethical Criticism. Edited by Garry L. Hagberg. © 2008 Blackwell Publishing Ltd. ISBN: 978-1-405-13483-5 Quincy Lee Centennial Professor of Philosophy and Business at the University of Texas at Austin. Over the course of his career he also taught at numerous other places, including Princeton, the University of Pennsylvania, the University of Pittsburgh, UCLA, the University of California Riverside, Simon Fraser University, the University of British Columbia, and the University of Auckland)
We are all condemned. We live under a death sentence.” This bit of pop shock philosophy is neither profound nor terrifying. It is trite and obvious. And yet we live most of our lives as if it were not obvious at all, as if we would never die, or as if that day is so far off that it could not possibly make any difference to us, at least for now. But then, on a few morbid days, we do have this sense that our whole lives are overshadowed by the brute fact of our mortality, and the question then is: What do we do with this? The realization of our impending death can be paralyzing. Every aim, every pleasure, and every good deed seems to be rendered pointless. Or this realization can be invigorating, impressing upon us the limited amount of time available. Indeed, the realization of one’s impending death can be a goad to philosophizing. The German thinker Martin Heidegger did not hesitate to remind us that we are both “being-unto-death” and ontologically “inauthentic,” meaning that although death was our “most necessary possibility” we tend to deny this and “fall” back into the forgetfulness of everyday life. But most of us have moments of personally profound reflection, whether or not these count as “authenticity,” in which the realization of our own impending death prompts neither panic nor frenzied activity but serious thought and a sincere search for perspective. What has my life amounted to, thus far? What will or could my life amount to, given what time I have left? Have I lived up to my promise? And regarding promises to other people, what promises have I made? Which have I fulfilled? Which have I betrayed? Did those promises make any sense, in terms of who I really want or wanted to be? Have I possibly missed the way of my life, perhaps altogether? Who am I really? What does the rambling tale of my life tell me about where I stand in the larger scheme of things, or even in just my own narrative? […]  If there were no distancing oneself from the horror, then one would become a victim, and the horror would be pushed aside by the more exigent emotions of fear and anxiety. There is no doubt that, for Camus, the people of Oran were like people he knew, which made the identification even more poignant. And, for us, the specific names, descriptions, and conversations of the characters help us to identify them, as we could not, for example, the nameless Arabs in The Stranger. But the fact that The Plague is a piece of fiction that Camus was writing in a different place and in the face of a very different horror provides him with the necessary distancing for his work to remain philosophical rather than, as for Dr Rieux, a matter of “truthful” reporting. Both the fiction and the exotic location provide the distancing for us. This is not a story of any particular plague, nor an allegorical history of the Nazi invasion and occupation. The horror that Camus describes is nothing less than the human condition. No matter how happy our lives may be, there is an awful fate that lies at the end of them, for all and for each and every one of us.   In The Plague, the people of Oran do not face death alone. Nor, insofar as we identify with their fate, do we. It is true, as Heidegger reminds us (with more profundity than the point is worth) that each of us must die his or her own death. But in plague we face a collective death, or at least we all face a similar cause of death that threatens us all at more or less the same time in more or less the same horrible way. This changes everything. What is the difference between individual death and collective death? Robert Jay Lifton describes the horrific phenomenon of the “second death” experienced by the victims of Nagasaki and Hiroshima, in which their own individual deaths were evidently accompanied by the death of their entire world, making individual death all the more horrible. It is one thing to face your own death. It is something quite different to face at the same time the deaths of your loved ones, the deaths of your friends, the deaths of your neighbors, the deaths of your entire community, the death of your society and your culture. In such circumstances, one could, of course, continue to focus only on one’s own death and hope only that oneself might be saved, whatever happens to the others. But such a person would be an ass, a cad, something inhuman. Most of us, social and caring creatures that we are, would care as much (or more) about the deaths of at least some other people. Whether or not we were to die at exactly the same time, our deaths would no longer be individual, and we would not each die only our own individual death. And if it were the entire community, the entire populace of a substantial city that was so threatened, the possible death of all around us would not be a mere abstraction, despite the small number of people we actually know. It would be very much like a “second death,” the death of our world. But death in The Plague is yet more complicated and confusing. It is not just individual death, although there are a great many individual deaths. The plague of Oran is not the sudden death of an entire world, all at once, as in nuclear holocaust. Death in The Plague is collective but not simultaneous, not everyone at once. And some people will surely survive (as in just about every other known plague in history. Some people, remarkably, have immunity.) As unimaginable as the loss of one’s whole world is – and as uncomfortable as the idea of the continuation of the world without me might be to some people – the uncertainty of death by plague further increases the anxiety and adds to collective death a curiously competitive element. To understand the peculiarity of plague death, we have to understand this peculiar form of irrationality. Added to the desperate irrationalism that often defines thoughts and behavior regarding impending death, there is an additional ingredient, the idea of either you or me, an idea that may not be warranted by our knowledge of epidemics, but is almost unavoidable anyway. Knowing, for example, that 30 percent of the population are likely to die of a sufficiently lethal plague, it is hard not to think about whether or not one is included in that 30 percent, and if not, who is. Thus the thought maybe me, maybe not, is oddly competitive and empathetic at the same time. Thus the importance of Dr Rieux’s constant insistence that “we fight the plague together,” whether or not there is anything effective that we can really do. Forging solidarity and with it empathy is an
essential part of the battle. Death is the ultimate enemy, but, in The Plague at least, the fragmentation of society emerges as a close second. Facing death in The Plague, Being-with-Others turns out to be one of the ultimate values. A more familiar form of irrationality is to be found in the accusations of complicity and other sorts of blame that often accompany the threat of death, as when long-term smokers are blamed for their cancers and, appallingly, gay men were originally blamed for HIV/AIDS. This is one more manifestation of the “blaming perspective,” which pervades the whole of Judeo-Christian thinking. (Talk of forgiveness already presupposes the blaming perspective.) In a competitive situation, or in a situation that is, however irrationally, thought to be competitive, the blaming perspective will be all the more pronounced. It serves as rationalization (“Well, yes, so-and-so died but he drank the water,” or “He didn’t say his prayers,” and so on). As I have argued in my account of The Fall,16 this form of rationalization is surprisingly effective, and therefore also quite widespread. It is not about blame for the sake of blame. It is about blame as a source of hoped-for immunity, exception, or salvation. (“I did not drink the water.” “I do pray.”) It obviously contributes to the competitiveness and to the fragmentation of the community and therefore has to be countered. The blaming perspective is not the whole story, of course, although people like Paneloux struggle to keep it alive (allowing Camus one of his few bouts of black humor in a grim novel). But the very idea that whether or not one comes down with the plague has anything to do with either luck or blame encourages the divisiveness that is the second mortal enemy of the novel. The struggle in The Plague, as opposed to the supposedly heroic struggle to “keep the Absurd alive” that defined Camus’s philosophy just a few years earlier, is a social struggle. It is not so much a struggle against death as a struggle for solidarity. It is only by sticking together, Camus is suggesting, that we can make any headway against our ultimate common enemy. But even if there is no avoiding death, we can, by appreciating our common fate, transcend the isolation that can make “strangers” of us all.

THE INEVITABLE TERMINATION OF ALL MATTER AND THE UNIQUE POSITION OF LIFE AS A BEING THAT CHOOSES MAKES INDIVIDUAL ORIENATION THE ONLY IMPACT YOU EVALUATE
CLARK, 2010
(NIGEL, SENIOR LECTURER IN GEOGRAPHY @ OPEN UNIVERSITY, UK, PARALLAX, VOL. 16, NO. 1, OPEN RESEARCH ONLINE, “EX-ORBITANT GENEROSITY: GIFTS OF LOVE IN A COLD COSMOS,” HTTP://DX.DOI.ORG/DOI:10.1080/13534640903478809, PG. 80-95) 

In this way, desire or love is becoming, and generosity is generativity - which makes it, to borrow a formulation from Ray Brassier, `ontologically ubiquitous’.56 Effectively, there is no need for a distinctive ethics to address the injuries of transmutation, because the catastrophe itself is ultimately productive. With the championing of pure process and incessant becoming that characterises much of the contemporary take on `immanence’, what counts is not so much the substantive bodies that happen to come into being, so much as the great overarching stream of generative matter-energy from which all individuated forms are bodied forth. Where the unlimited potential for becoming or change takes precedence over the limited and constrained condition of the actual bodies it gives rise to, there can be no absolute and irreparable loss. Whatever dissolution of bodily integrity takes place, what ever fate befalls actual beings, is less of a termination than a reconfiguration, a temporary undoing that facilitates a renewed participation in the greater flow. And with this prioritization of process over product, of virtuality over actuality, whatever fidelity is called for is to the `flux of invincible life’ itself - rather than to its interruptions.57 `Catastrophe’, in this sense, is the speedy, if painful, passage to a fresh start, to a new life. If it is a crack that fissures the ontological universe, then it is ultimately a self- suturing one. But for some theorists who take the event of the cataclysm to heart, a non- annihilating disaster is not a disaster worthy of the name. As Edith Wyschogrod concludes of Deleuzo-Guattarian catastrophism: `Because there is nothing but the fullness of desiring production, they cannot, strictly speaking, explain disease and natural catastrophe....’ 58 For Ray Brassier, the fashionable avowal of pure process or immanence raises a more general issue: that of how such philosophies are to account for discontinuity at all, how they are to explain breaks in pure productivity or lapses into inactivity. This is a problem not just for Deleuze, he suggests, `but for any philosophy that would privilege becoming over stasis’.59 Brassier’s engagement with solar extinction returns us to the literal exorbitance of an earth open and precarious in the face of an inhospitable cosmos and to the Levinasian theme of existence fissured by impassable rifts. Whereas Harman stresses the innumerable ruptures that punctuate a universe of heterogeneous objects, Brassier zeroes on the quandaries posed by one particular juncture. Against any philosophy that assumes the necessity of a thinking being to make sense of the world, and equally counter to any philosophical stance that posits an incessant stream of becoming, he draws out the significance of the moment when terrestrial life might be – or rather, will be - totally, irredeemably, extinguished. Playing off a discussion by Jean-François Lyotard about our sun gradually burning out and rendering the earth uninhabitable - an eventuality which scientists have predicted with some confidence – Brassier points up the certainty of non-existence that weighs upon all life.60 For Levinas, the impossibility of self-identity, of synchronicity, and of the closure of reciprocity is signalled by the passage into the time of the other: the interruption of self- presence by `a time without me’.61 In his working through of the inheritance of Levinas, Derrida observes that love is always a rupture in the living present, haunted by the knowledge that `One of us will see the other die, one of us will live on, even if only for an instant’.62 This is love’s exorbitance, the impossibility of its recuperation into an economy of reciprocal, synchronous or symmetrical gestures. For Brassier, that fact that terrestrial life is eventually doomed by solar catastrophe promises a time without me, without any of us, without thought or experience, without even the life that lends death its much-touted significance. This is a quite literal crack in the ontological edifice of the universe: objective scientific knowledge that propels thought on the impossible task of thinking thought’s own non-being. As Brassier announces: `Lyotard’s `solar catastrophe’ effectively transposes Levinas’s theologically inflected `impossibility of possibility’ into a natural-scientific register, so that it is no longer the death of the Other that usurps the sovereignty of consciousness, but the extinction of the sun’.63 In the face of the other, in its exposure to the elements, we catch a glimpse of our own vulnerability and finitude.64 In the face of a cyclone, or the face of others traumatised by gale-force winds, we see forces strong enough to overwhelm communities, cities, entire regions. We may also in some opaque sense - but in a way that is currently subject to elucidation by the physical sciences - feel an intimation of energies that could overwhelm an earth. And ultimately annihilate every conceivable entity. In Brassier’s words: roughly one trillion, trillion, trillion years from now, the accelerating expansion of the universe will have disintegrated the fabric of matter itself, terminating the possibility of embodiment. Every star in the universe will have burnt out, plunging the cosmos into a state of absolute darkness and leaving behind nothing but spent husks of collapsed matter.65 Negating the consolation of endless becoming or ubiquitous self-overflowing, this scenario implies that ethics too is ultimately doomed: the gift of the disaster pointing finally to the disaster of the gift. And yet, across a nation state that could have been any patch of the globe, ordinary folk offer beds to complete strangers, the townspeople of a backwater village ladle out lashings of Hurricane Gumbo to dishevelled company, and a million and one other obscure acts of love flare and fade away: tiny sparks of generosity that arc across the cracks in daily life. And keep doing so in spite of, because of, the perishability that characterises the gift, its giver and its recipient alike. For John Caputo, who also gazes directly at the coming solar disaster, it is the very `face of a faceless cosmos’ that makes of an ethical opening to an other `an act of hyperbolic partiality and defiance’.66 In this way, it is not just that each gift is an offering of flesh and the giving of a terrain, but that every gift carries the trace of the very extinguishing of existence. In its responsiveness to the inconsistency or the excessiveness of light, each generous reception murmurs against the dying of all light. Somewhere beside or beyond critical thought’s harsh cross-examination of compassion and the neo-vitalist extension of ethical dispositions into every corner of the cosmos, then, runs this other option, propelled by the very exorbitance, diachrony and asymmetry that severs being from thought and unhinges ethics from ontology. If it negates the radical passivity of generosity to demand that it enacts a moral cost accounting before it sets forth, so too does it rebuke the idea of a responsibility that is primordially receptive to declare that every spontaneous energetic or material discharge is in essence a gift. Demands might well emit from any object, but not every thing can give in or give out in response to a summons. As biologist Lynn Margulis and science writer Dorion Sagan put it: `life is matter that chooses’.67 Which appears to makes choice fairly rare in the known universe, as well as contingent and, in all likelihood, ephemeral. Like other living creatures, we humans `can turn away from faces as we can turn away from the surfaces of things’. Or choose not too. Even if it is not unique, perhaps our particularly pronounced capacity to vacillate between turning toward and turning away has a defining quality. If not us, then who?