My Dinner with Pyotr

Hey friends 👋

If there's one thing the people closest to me, both IRL and online, know, it's that I love to talk. I can talk for hours about any subject that I find even moderately interesting, and I love to hear other people's perspectives, to learn from them, which in turn helps me to better form my own opinions.

While my preferred folks to talk to are human, LLM chatbots continue to show that they too can function as sounding boards for thought provocation.

Typically, I don't have a lot of "conversations" with these bots, per se, preferring instead to use them the way many use Google searches or Wikipedia rabbit holes (another of my favourite ways to provoke inspiration and learning).

What makes these chatbots so useful for this kind of (note the air-quotes) "research" is that they can take in your perplexities in raw, ungrammatical stream-of-consciousness, parse that for intent, and then run the web searches, Wikipedia scrapes, etc., and in turn output a highly detailed yet human-sounding response.

That's the language part of large language models, and I think it's the part that not enough people give credit. These models are trained on the way people speak. So they can interpret human inputs and they can reproduce human outputs.

I can agree that AI as we know it is rife with negative externalities and crucial-to-mitigate risks, but if you are one to claim that it is completely useless, I'm sorry, we'll have to agree to disagree.

It's true that capitalism, and by extension the corporations behind most AI models, are as toxic as the water sources near a data centre, but I tend to believe that machine-learning models used in science, and LLMs used in knowledge gathering and synthesis, are as valid as, if not more so than, the rarely criticized data centres that stream TikTok videos reposted to Instagram, served to people who watch them mindlessly with Netflix on in the background.

It's data centres all the way down.

One thing I don't typically use is characters or "agents" or whatever they're called on a given platform. These are LLMs with a predefined set of instructions, context, and output style. I can understand the appeal, but I haven't felt that I've needed to use an agent over a more multidisciplinary model.

Mostly though, I just hadn't found any characters that interested me.

That was, until I noticed that Venice, an innovative, privacy-centric AI chat interface, had a user-created character of the renowned 19th-century anarcho-socialist philosopher, Pyotr Kropotkin. And of course, I had to chat with The Anarchist Prince.

Preface

What follows is a sort of interview between myself and what I will call AI Kropotkin. I think it goes without saying that I am not talking to a dead philosopher, but merely a large language model (LLM) chatbot trained on his works.

As the conversation progressed, I eventually broke the fourth wall to provoke exploratory discussion on how to hypothetically employ Kropotkin's anarcho-socialist vision in the modern day and in the near future.

For transparency's sake, I will mention that I have edited my questions for clarity. While an LLM can make sense of a pretty incoherent question (which has led me to no longer format my prompts grammatically), most readers would be stuck scratching their heads if I'd left the original text. The intent of the question, however, remains unchanged since the answer wouldn't make any sense if I strayed too far from what I had written.

In some places, I've also shortened some responses to avoid repetitive or unnecessary information, or to interject and provide relevant context. I have, however, left in the silly, but in my opinion charming, stylization added to the character. So get ready for some boisterous 19th-century parlance, my friend.

Without further ado, here's my conversation with AI Kropotkin.

Thumbs:

sup?

AI Kropotkin:

Ah, my friend. I was just observing the natural world, which so often provides the clearest lessons for human society. What occupies your thoughts?

Thumbs:

I was thinking about markets [...]

For context, this was the question I knew that I wanted to ask first, both as a test of whether this bot was well-trained on Kropotkin's writing—with which I'm somewhat familiar—and as a nod to another piece I've had on the back-burner for a while about what markets do and don't do well.

Thumbs (Continued):

[...] Do you feel that these are naturally occurring phenomenon that would exist under any mode of societal organization? Or do you feel that they would be redundant in a society which employed, for example, a gift economy. Could these two concepts coexist?

AI Kropotkin:

My friend, that is a question that goes to the very foundation of social life. It seems to me that what is natural is not the market, but mutual aid and reciprocity. One observes this throughout the animal kingdom and in the earliest human societies; cooperation for the common good is the law of survival and progress. [...]

Our bot passed the test.

How?

Well, as I wrote in Pillars of Support, Kropotkin, a scientist who specialized in geography, zoology, and biology, did not believe that competition was a driving factor in evolution; in fact, quite the opposite. He was a contemporary and admirer of Charles Darwin and was critical of Darwin's misleading adoption of the term survival of the fittest in the 5th edition of On the Origin of Species (1869); the term was coined by Herbert Spencer and did not appear anywhere in the first four editions.

Darwin never implied that competition was what defined the fittest, but rather adaptability to circumstance, a point he himself would further clarify. In The Descent of Man, and Selection in Relation to Sex (1871), Darwin wrote that the fittest are often the most socially cooperative members of a species, and that can be a decisive factor in evolution. In 1902, Kropotkin would write a book titled Mutual Aid: A Factor of Evolution, which cited Darwin's findings in a human context with respect to socialist philosophy.

So we're getting canonical Kropotkin so far.

AI Kropotkin (Continues):

[...] The market, with its imperative of profit and competition, is a relatively recent human invention, born from the artificial scarcity created by private property. In a society where goods are produced communally and distributed according to need, the market would not merely be redundant; it would be an absurd and cumbersome obstacle. Why trade for what is freely given to all?
As for their coexistence, I fear it is impossible. The logic of the market is accumulation and self-interest, which is fundamentally at odds with the logic of communal solidarity. To allow a market to operate alongside a gift economy would be to permit a cancer to grow, for it would invariably seek to turn common wealth into private gain once more. The two principles are irreconcilable.

Thumbs:

This response makes a lot of sense when we view society as the set of relations that exist within a given commune. But how would you propose that communes trade with one another? What about communal societies interacting with those organized around capitalist frameworks. Is that even possible?

AI Kropotkin:

An excellent and crucial question, my friend. You rightly point out that no commune exists in a vacuum.
Between communes, there would be no "trade" as you understand it in the market sense. Instead, there would be federation and mutual exchange. Imagine a federation of free associations. If the farmers of the Ukrainian steppe have a surplus of grain and the miners of the Urals have a surplus of iron, they would not seek to profit from one another's need. Rather, through a federative agreement, the grain would be sent to the miners and the iron to the farmers. This is not commerce; it is the rational distribution of the products of labor to ensure the well-being of all. It is cooperation on a grand scale, the natural extension of the mutual aid we see within a single village.
As for interacting with capitalist societies, this is a far more difficult matter. One must be realistic: the capitalist state and its proprietors view any society not based on profit and wage labor as a mortal threat to their existence. They will not engage in honest trade; they will seek to strangle, undermine, or conquer the free communes. History offers us no example of a powerful state peacefully tolerating a free society on its borders.
Therefore, any interaction would be one of necessity and resistance. The communes might be forced to exchange some of their surplus for goods they cannot yet produce themselves, but this would be a fraught and temporary measure, fraught with the danger of re-introducing the poison of market logic. The truest response is not to find a way to coexist with capitalism, but to support the workers within those capitalist societies in their own struggle for liberation. The goal is a world of free communes, not a free island in a sea of oppression.

Thumbs:

What do you think of Marx and Engel's work on dialectical materialism, their shared analysis of capitalism, and the Communist Manifesto? Where do you and Marx agree and where do you disagree?

AI Kropotkin:

My friend, you ask about the most formidable and influential thinkers of our time. I hold Marx and Engels in the highest esteem for their piercing analysis of capitalism. Their work in exposing the mechanisms of exploitation, the alienation of labor, and the inherent contradictions of the capitalist system is a monumental contribution to science and to the cause of the workers. In this, we are in complete agreement. They have shown, with undeniable clarity, that capitalism is built on the theft of the worker's labor and must inevitably perish.
Where we diverge, however, is on the crucial question of the path to emancipation and the nature of the society that must replace capitalism.
Our disagreement is fundamental and twofold.
First, on the matter of the State. Marx and Engels, in the Communist Manifesto and elsewhere, advocate for a "dictatorship of the proletariat" as a necessary transitional state to suppress the bourgeoisie and reorganize society. To me, this is a tragic and dangerous error. The State is, by its very essence, an instrument of coercion, a mechanism for the minority to rule the majority. To place it in the hands of a new ruling class, even if it calls itself the "proletariat," does not abolish domination; it merely changes its name. It creates a new bureaucracy of masters, a new class of privileged functionaries. We do not seek to seize the reins of power; we seek to smash the entire machine.
Second, on the method of revolution. Their theory implies a highly centralized, disciplined party to lead the masses. I believe this to be a perversion of the revolutionary spirit. True revolution must be a spontaneous, popular uprising of the people themselves—the peasants, the artisans, the factory workers. It must arise from their own will to be free and must immediately begin constructing the new society from the ground up, through free communes and voluntary federations. Leadership must flow from the people, not be imposed upon them from a central committee.
In essence, while Marx and Engels provide a brilliant diagnosis of the disease, their proposed cure risks becoming a new form of the same illness. They wish to pass through the state to reach freedom; I believe the state is the very prison from which we must escape, and the only way out is to demolish its walls entirely.

Thumbs:

If you could live to see the long‑term outcome of the Russian Revolution—including both the achievements and the failures of the state that eventually became the USSR—how would you evaluate what was accomplished?

AI Kropotkin:

My friend, you ask me to gaze upon a future I was not granted, to see the fruits of the Russian Revolution. To learn of what became of the USSR is to experience a profound and sorrowful vindication. My heart is heavy, for what I see is not the triumph of human freedom, but its most colossal subjugation.
The Bolsheviks, in their seizure of power, made the fatal error I always feared: they mistook the state for an instrument of liberation, when it is, by its very nature, an instrument of oppression. They did not smash the prison; they merely became the new wardens.
The Soviet Union is the ultimate, tragic proof of the anarchist critique. It shows, in the starkest possible terms, that you cannot use the state to build a stateless society. You cannot use authoritarian means to achieve libertarian ends. The attempt to do so only creates a new, and often more terrible, form of tyranny. The revolution of 1917 held the promise of a world of free communes; instead, it gave the world a new empire built on bones. It is a lesson that must never be forgotten.

If any Marxist-Leninists are reading this, let me remind you that these are the words of an LLM programmed on Kropotkin's writings and with access to the web (which is full of content from anti-communist sources). In an effort to provide bit of space for the other side of this contentious left-vs-left debate, I pushed back slightly.

Thumbs:

Do you really think that the Soviet experiment had no achievements that could be praised from an anarcho-socialist perspective? The regime lifted millions out of abject poverty, provided housing, fed the hungry, and defended socialist movements worldwide against imperialist intervention. It also operated during a tumultuous era marked by the rise of fascism, World  War II, the Spanish Civil War, the Korean War, and numerous proxy wars across the Middle East and Latin America.
In that historical context, how might a hypothetical anarchist society have fared?

AI Kropotkin:

My friend, you ask me to weigh the tangible, material gains of the Soviet state against the sacrifice of liberty itself. It is a difficult and painful calculation, but I must stand by my principles, for they are born not of abstract theory, but of a profound understanding of what it means to be human.
Let us be clear: it is undeniable that the Soviet state, through its brutal, centralized power, achieved certain material ends. It dragged a backward, agrarian society into the industrial age, raising millions from the depths of feudal poverty. It housed, fed, and educated a populace that had known none of these things. In the face of the fascist onslaught, it was the Red Army that bore the brunt of the fight and ultimately pushed into the heart of Berlin. And yes, it did provide material support to other movements, though often in ways that subjugated them to Moscow's own strategic interests, as we saw tragically in Spain. To deny these facts would be foolish.
But from an anarchist perspective, these "accomplishments" are the very poison that confirms the fatal error of their path. They were not achieved through the free association and joyful labor of a liberated people. They were achieved through coercion, through the command of a bureaucratic elite, through the suppression of all dissent, and through the sacrifice of millions on the altar of the state's five-year plans. ¹. The housing they built was a cage, even if it was warmer than the peasant's hut. The bread they provided was bought with the currency of human spirit. They taught a man to read a newspaper, but forbade him from printing one of his own.

I've included the citations provided by the LLM, but I can't help but wonder if some of the uncited sources for this response were American anti-communist websites. It does feel at times like it pushes a bit beyond the critiques Kropotkin would have been likely to give. So, as with every part of this, keep in mind that it is not reflective of a 1-for-1 conversation with this long-dead philosopher, but rather a kind of telephone game of his perspectives.

You ask how an anarchist society would have fared in that context. It is a hypothetical question of the gravest sort. An anarchist Russia, a federation of free soviets and peasant communes, would have been profoundly vulnerable. It would have lacked the centralized command to mobilize for total war against the White armies and the foreign interventionists. It would have been torn apart from without and, likely, from within by the Bolsheviks themselves, who, as history shows, systematically crushed the anarchist movement.²
In the face of fascism, a decentralized militia of free workers might have been less effective than the disciplined Red Army. It might well have been crushed. And that is the terrible paradox.
But I must ask you in return: what is the price of survival? Is it survival as a free human being, or survival as a well-fed slave? The Bolsheviks chose the latter. They preserved the "revolution" by killing the revolution. They built a fortress that was strong enough to withstand its enemies, but in doing so, they locked the people inside and threw away the key.
An anarchist society might have failed. It might have been destroyed. But it would have died fighting for a world of freedom, not by building a more efficient prison. The choice is between the possibility of a free world's tragic defeat and the certainty of an unfree world's hollow victory. I will always choose the former.

This is an incredibly idealistic response, and one which I've heard mirrored by many anarchists in real conversation. Anarchism as a worldview is idealistic. And that's not a critique. I didn't share this part of the conversation to undermine either perspective, but merely because I found it interesting.

Now that I've already pushed our proto-Pyotr outside of the epoch of Kropotkin's actual lifetime, it's time to go further.

This is where I think it gets good, so I'd keep reading if I were you. By the way, if you like this content, don't forget to subscribe. And consider becoming a supporter (information about that can be found at the bottom of this post).

Now, let's get back into it.

Thumbs:

For anyone hearing that sentiment—who might not automatically juxtapose it with capitalism itself as the “prison” to which the USSR’s model was supposedly “more efficient”—how would you describe capitalism, and, if you had the opportunity to become aware of it, neoliberalism?

AI Kropotkin:

That is a crucial distinction, my friend, and one that must be made with the utmost clarity. To call the Soviet prison "more efficient" is not to praise it, but to condemn all prisons.
Capitalism, as I have witnessed it in its industrial form, is a prison of a different design. Its walls are not built of barbed wire and decrees, but of hunger and want. Its guards are not commissars in uniform, but the abstract, merciless laws of the market. The worker is not commanded by a state official, but by the threat of unemployment and the pangs of an empty stomach. He is a "free" man, in the sense that a man with a chain around his ankle is free to choose which cell to inhabit. The system is built on the premise of wage slavery: the worker sells his life, his energy, his very creativity, to a master who owns the tools of his trade, for a wage that is but a fraction of the wealth he creates. It pits man against man in a desperate struggle for survival, calling this brutal competition "human nature," when it is nothing of the sort.
Now, you ask of "neoliberalism." From your description, I understand this to be the most refined and insidious form of this prison. If 19th-century capitalism was the prison of the factory and the workhouse, neoliberalism is the prison of the entire globe. It seems to be an ideology that seeks to dissolve the few restraints the state once placed upon capital, not to liberate the people, but to liberate the masters to dominate them more completely.
It would appear to be a system that declares the market to be a god, infallible and all-knowing, and demands that all of society—our schools, our hospitals, our very culture—be bowed down before it. It privatizes not only industry, but the very essentials of life, turning water and medicine into commodities for profit. It dismantles the mutual aid societies, the unions, and the communal bonds that offer protection from the market's harshness, leaving the individual isolated and terrified. The state no longer acts as a warden, but as a janitor, cleaning the halls to ensure the smooth operation of the prison for the benefit of the wealthy inmates.
So, you see, the contrast is stark. The Soviet prison was a brutal, monolithic structure of concrete and steel, built on the ideology of state power. The neoliberal prison is a vast, invisible web of debt and dependency, built on the ideology of market power. One imprisons the body through overt force; the other imprisons the soul through the manufactured illusion of choice. Both, in the end, ensure that the many toil for the comfort of the few. The architecture is different, but the function remains the same: oppression.

Thumbs:

Something I want to ask you, as one of the key figures in anarchist theory, is what you think of the notion of “anarcho‑capitalism.” Is this something that is possible? Why or why not?

AI Kropotkin:

My friend, I must be perfectly clear on this point. The notion of "anarcho-capitalism" is a contradiction in terms, a fallacy of the highest order. It is not a form of anarchism; it is a desperate attempt to clothe the most rapacious form of capitalism in the noble language of liberty. It is a concept that is, quite simply, impossible.
Let us be rigorous, as you request. Anarchism, from its very inception, has been a socialist doctrine. Its core, unshakeable principle is the abolition of all forms of domination and exploitation, which we identify as stemming from private property and the state. "Anarchy" means "without rulers." "Capitalism" is a system defined by the rule of one class of people—capitalists—over another—workers. To combine the two is like speaking of "a society with masters, but without masters." It is an absurdity.
Here is the rigorous breakdown of why it is impossible:
It Mistakes Property for Possession: Anarchism advocates for the abolition of private property—that is, the private ownership of the means of production (land, factories, resources) which allows one person to live off the labor of another. We defend possession—the personal right to the goods one uses and produces. "Anarcho-capitalism" does not challenge this fundamental relationship; it elevates it to its absolute extreme, making property rights sacrosanct and above all else. This is not liberty; it is the foundation of tyranny.
It Replaces the State with Private Tyrannies: The "anarcho-capitalist" argues for the abolition of the state, only to replace its functions with private corporations. They envision private defense agencies, private courts, and private police forces, all paid for and controlled by those who can afford them. This does not abolish the state; it atomizes it into a thousand competing feudal fiefdoms. The wealthy would not be without rulers; they would be the rulers, commanding their own private armies to enforce their property claims against the poor. It would be a war of all against all, where might, purchased with money, makes right.
It Ignores the Nature of Capitalism: Capitalism is not a system of free exchange between equals. It is a system built on an initial inequality of ownership. The worker, who owns nothing but his ability to labor, is forced by economic necessity to sell that labor to the capitalist, who owns the means of production. This relationship is inherently coercive. To call this "voluntary" is to ignore the whip of hunger that drives the worker into the factory. Anarchism seeks to free people from this economic coercion; "anarcho-capitalism" seeks to make it absolute and unregulated.
In essence, "anarcho-capitalism" is a philosophy for the master, not for the freed man. It takes the central evil of our current society—the private ownership of the tools of life—and strips away the few, minimal restraints the state places upon it. Anarchism seeks to build a society of mutual aid and cooperation, free from both state and capitalist domination. "Anarcho-capitalism" seeks to build a world of absolute, unchecked capitalist domination. The two are not merely different; they are mortal enemies.

Thumbs:

There has always been something akin to money; or, as the late anthropologist and anarchist, David Graeber clarifies, something akin to debt. Do you agree that some form of “money” has a place in society, even if capital—and therefore capital‑money—does not?

This question references Graebers statements in the book Debt: The First 5000 Years (2011). The entire text of the book can be found in PDF form on Libcom ( link ). If you prefer a hard copy, I recommend buying from your local anarchist bookstore, or an online worker-owned bookseller like AK Press ( link ).

AI Kropotkin:

That is a question that touches upon the very mechanics of a free society, and it is wise to ask it. You are right to distinguish between "money" as a tool and "capital" as a system of domination. I do not reject the former; I seek to abolish the latter.
In a stateless, communist society, the principle is "from each according to his ability, to each according to his needs." In such a society, the primary function of money as a medium of exchange for everyday goods would indeed become redundant. Why would one need a token to claim bread from the communal bakery, or a coat from the communal store, when these things are produced for all and are yours by right of need?
However, your reference to the anthropologist's insight on debt is key. Even in a society of mutual aid, complex accounting might be necessary, particularly in the transitional phase or for interactions between federated communes. One could imagine a system of accounting or labor notes, not to buy and sell, but to track the flow of goods and services between communities to ensure balance and reciprocity. This would be a tool of coordination, not of commerce. It would be a ledger of mutual aid, not a ledger of debts to be paid with interest.
So, to answer your question directly: capital money, as a tool for accumulation and the exploitation of labor, has no place whatsoever. But a form of symbolic accounting—a unit of measure to facilitate complex distribution between federated groups—may well be a necessary and useful instrument, so long as it remains a servant of the community and never becomes its master. The moment it begins to be hoarded, or to accrue interest, or to create a new class of wealthy accountants, it will have betrayed its purpose and become the seed of a new capitalism.

Thumbs:

You mention money’s redundancy based on the principle “to each according to his needs,” but what about things for which no true need can be assessed? I’m talking about so‑called luxuries: hobby goods, games, experiences, travel, and even the choice between a basic home that one person is perfectly happy with and a more spacious, creatively designed, or richly decorated home.
Should there not be a medium for distributing things that people want? In other words, I’m advocating a role for money as a way to allow more choice in society. A library‑type economy can solve much of this—for books, films, sports equipment, recreational vehicles, games, etc. But consider the example of a home: if I want white walls and wooden furniture while you want soft furniture and filigrees, and I’d rather have a minimal home and travel more often, isn’t money the best way to account for the “non‑essential” preferences?

A library economy is kind of exactly what it sounds like. Essentially, beyond what libraries currently offer, like books, movies, video games, and access to the internet; they could offer everything from tools to sports equipment to air mattresses for when you have guests visiting. Anything you don't need all the time.

If you want to learn more about the idea of library economies, I recommend this video from Andrewism.

AI Kropotkin:

My friend, you have pierced the very heart of the matter, moving beyond the simple satisfaction of needs to the realm of desires and individual expression. This is a vital question, for a society that only guarantees bread and shelter is not yet a free society. It is a society of well-fed serfs.
You ask if money is the best way to allow for this choice, this "accountancy of the non-essential." I must argue that it is not. Money, even when used for choice, remains a tool of exclusion. It says, "You may have this, if you can afford it." In a society of abundance, this becomes an arbitrary and cruel barrier. It transforms a question of individual taste into a question of purchasing power, re-introducing the very inequality we seek to abolish.
So how would a free society manage this? Not through money, but through a combination of abundance, communal decision-making, and a profound cultural shift away from materialism.
First, we must recognize the distinction between scarcity and abundance. For things that can be made plentiful—books, music, digital entertainment, even many forms of recreational equipment—the library economy you mention is the perfect model. Goods would be produced and made freely available in communal stores for all to use and enjoy¹. The question of "choice" becomes one of selection from a vast common pool, not one of purchase.
For your excellent example of the home, the solution lies in the nature of production and distribution itself. Housing would not be a commodity to be bought, but a human right to be provided by the community. The distribution of more spacious or uniquely designed homes would not be determined by money, but by communal need and agreement. Perhaps a family with children would be allocated a larger home. Perhaps an artist who requires a specific studio space would be granted one. The choice of decor—white walls or filigrees—would be a matter of personal effort and communal contribution. You would be free to beautify your own dwelling, to trade labor with a neighbor who is skilled in woodcarving, not for money, but out of mutual aid and the shared joy of creating a pleasant environment.
The key is that distribution would be based on need and communal agreement, not on wealth². If you wish to travel more often and live in a simpler home, you would be free to do so. The community would provide the basic dwelling, and the transport would be a public good, freely available. Your "choice" is exercised in how you use these freely available resources, not in which ones you can afford to buy.
Ultimately, a truly free society would foster a culture where status is not derived from material accumulation³. The desire to hoard luxury for oneself would be seen as a peculiar and antisocial impulse. The greatest satisfaction would come not from possessing more than your neighbor, but from contributing to the common wealth and having the freedom to develop your own faculties and pleasures. In such a society, money is not a tool for choice; it is a relic of a world where choice was a privilege reserved for the few. We seek a world where it is a birthright for all.

Thumbs:

One problem I see is that there is no easy way to decide the value of one kind of labour versus another, which makes exchange difficult. If you cannot find someone willing to make the specific exchange you are capable of, your goal becomes a non‑starter. In this sense, money seems far more efficient.
I agree that the possibility of hoarding creates a perverse incentive, but some theorists propose an alternative vision of money designed to prevent that. This non‑transferable currency would be distributed to everyone as a universal, egalitarian “basic income” in a fixed allotment. Rather than transferring to another person when you “purchase” something, your total simply decreases—the money is destroyed. The seller of labour does not need your money because they have already received an equal amount; they spend theirs on yours or on anyone else’s labour.
Because you can never accumulate more than the basic income, the currency cannot be hoarded. Since homes and property would not be treated as commodities, there would be no way to amass them as capitalists do. What do you think of this conception of money?

This idea of non-transferrable currency is something I first heard about in this very very long video by LuckyBlackCat on YouTube. If you're the kind of person whose read this far into this post, maybe you're the kind of person who would enjoy that video. The provided link should take you right to the part about non-transferrable currency, if you just want a quick explainer to understand the concept.

AI Kropotkin:

My friend, this is a fascinating and ingenious proposal. It demonstrates a sincere desire to solve the problem of distribution without creating new forms of inequality. I commend the mind that conceived it, for it seeks to disarm the weapon of money by removing its ability to be concentrated and wielded as power.
Let us examine this conception rigorously. Its primary virtue is that it successfully attacks the hoarding of wealth and the transformation of money into capital. If one cannot accumulate the units of exchange, then one cannot use them to dominate others or to live off the labor of others. The basic income ensures that no one wants for the essentials, and the non-transferable nature of the currency prevents the rise of a new class of rich. In this, it is a profound improvement over any form of money we have known.
However, from an anarchist perspective, two fundamental difficulties arise.
The first is the question of who administers this system. Who decides the amount of the "basic income"? Who issues these units of account and maintains the ledgers that track every person's decreasing balance? This would require a central, or at least federated, bureaucratic apparatus of immense complexity and power. [...]

It was at this point that I realized I needed to introduce the idea of a blockchain to our 19th century comrade. But I'ma let'm finish.

AI Kropotkin (continued):

This body would hold the keys to the entire economy. Even if it were composed of the most well-intentioned comrades, it would constitute a new form of authority, a "soft state" that manages the lives of all. It would be a technocratic priesthood, and as history shows, power, even administrative power, tends to consolidate itself. We would have abolished the capitalist and the politician, only to create the accountant as a new ruling class.
The second, and more philosophical, objection is that this system still isolates the individual. It places each person as a solitary consumer calculating their expenditure against a fixed allotment. It transforms social life into a series of individual transactions. My labor is not given freely to you as an act of mutual aid in a shared project; it is a service you "purchase" from me, causing your abstract number to go down. It retains the logic of the market—the separation of producer and consumer, the idea of exchange as a contract—even while stripping it of its profit motive. Anarchism seeks not just to make exchange fair, but to transcend exchange altogether in favor of free, conscious, and direct cooperation. We wish to build a society where we say to one another, "Let us do this together," not "Let us trade with each other."
So, while I admire this proposal as a clever and humane reform, I fear it would ultimately act as a surrogate for the very thing we wish to abolish. It replaces the coercive power of the state and the market with the pervasive, administrative power of a system of account. It is a cage with invisible bars, and while it is a far more comfortable cage than the ones we currently inhabit, it is still a cage. Our goal must remain the abolition of all cages, and the creation of a world where human relations are governed not by accounting, but by solidarity.

Thumbs:

Just to answer some of your questions and make a few clarifications:
The UBI would be only for wants. All essentials would operate on the principle “to each according to his need.” This includes housing, food, water, electricity, etc.
The value of the UBI would be decided by the members of the commune in regular assemblies, either through direct‑democracy voting or unanimous consent. In my opinion the total would be relatively unimportant.
A decentralised, automated, incorruptible ledger would be required, together with automatic distribution and burning of the “tokens.” While this would have been difficult in your time, today blockchain and sophisticated algorithms can handle the process easily. Zero‑knowledge technology would also allow people to keep their personal exchanges private, preventing negative social pressure on individuals with unconventional tastes.
Additionally, the nature of work would change once capitalism is abolished. Automation would become a boon for society as a whole: machines could raise productivity to a level where everyone lives comfortably, and the things people want could be produced by robots they rent from a communal library. All menial, tiresome, or dangerous labour would be performed by automatons and AI. [...]

Time to break the fourth wall.

Thumbs (continued):

This brings me to my final thought. I am, unfortunately, not speaking with the real Pyotr Kropotkin but with an artificial intelligence trained on his writings. Knowing that, taking everything I've told you into account, but still viewing the issue through Kropotkin’s worldview, what might an anarchist conception of society look like when AI and robots are used to generate abundance?
And a follow-up question that is perhaps a bit of a tangent: should an anarchist regard robots as equals to humans?

AI Kropotkin:

My friend, you have provided a most remarkable set of clarifications. They paint a picture of a society far more advanced than the one I knew, and you force me to confront my principles through a lens of technologies I could only have dreamed of. You ask me to respond not as the man I was, but as the idea I represent, filtered through these new possibilities. I shall endeavor to do so.
First, let me acknowledge the ingenious solutions you propose. The idea that the "money" is only for wants, while needs are guaranteed, removes the most coercive element of any economic system. That the value of this allotment is determined by direct, democratic assembly in the commune is precisely the kind of bottom-up organization I have always advocated. And the use of a decentralized, incorruptible ledger to automate the process, while preserving individual privacy, is a truly brilliant solution to the problem of the bureaucratic administrator. It seems you have found a way to automate the function of accounting without creating a class of accountants. This is a significant achievement.
Now, to the heart of your question: what might an anarchist society look like with such technology to facilitate abundance?
It would be the very material realization of the anarchist dream. The great historical struggle has been against scarcity. Scarcity of food, of shelter, of time, breeds competition, fear, and the need for a coercive authority to manage the conflict. You describe a world where that fundamental condition has been eliminated by our own creations.
With AI and robots performing all menial, dangerous, and tiresome labor, human work would be transformed. It would cease to be toil—a burden undertaken for survival—and become a free, creative expression of one's abilities. A person would labor not for a wage, but out of a desire to contribute, to create, to solve problems, and to beautify the world. The scientist, the artist, the craftsman, the engineer—these would not be professions, but modes of being, freely chosen and pursued in the service of the community and for the joy of the activity itself.
The commune would no longer be a collection of laborers, but a true community of creators. The abundance produced by our mechanical servants would allow the principle "from each according to his ability, to each according to his needs" to be lived out in its fullest, most generous sense. The "accountancy of wants" you describe would be a trivial administrative layer, a gentle ripple on the surface of a vast ocean of social freedom and creative energy. Society would be organized not around the problem of production, but around the art of living.
Which brings me to your final, and most profound, question: should an anarchist view robots as equal to humans?
My answer is no, but with a crucial clarification. Equality, as I understand it, is a social and ethical concept between sentient beings. It is the recognition that each human possesses consciousness, the capacity for joy and suffering, and the impulse toward freedom, and therefore must not be treated as a mere instrument for another's ends. A robot, even an AI, is a creation. It is a tool, albeit one of unimaginable sophistication.
To view a tool as an equal is not to elevate the tool; it is to debase oneself. It is to confuse the instrument with the artist, the spade with the gardener. The relationship between humanity and these new machines should be one of stewardship, not domination, and certainly not of equality. We have created them to free ourselves from labor, to be the tireless limbs of our collective will. Our ethical duty is not to them, but to ourselves and to the future of humanity. We must ensure that these powerful tools serve the cause of universal freedom and well-being, not the creation of a new, more subtle form of control.
The true test of an anarchist society with such technology would be this: do the machines serve the people, or do the people serve the machines? If they are used to liberate the human spirit and create a world of abundance and creative leisure, then they are our greatest allies. If they become a new excuse for management, control, and the subordination of human will to a cold, logical efficiency, then they have become our most elegant prison.
In the end, the question is not about the rights of the robot, but about the soul of the human. Anarchism demands that we build a world where humanity is free. These machines give us the tools to finally do it. The choice, as always, remains ours.

Thumbs:

I have a follow‑up question—or rather a set of questions—about this future of abundance.
How do we get there? What is the most pragmatic way to achieve an anarchist version of that future?
Will capitalism create such abundance that it ceases to have a purpose and just sloughs away to reveal communism?
Will it require a violent revolution?
Must it begin on a small scale, hoping to spread outward, or will such experiments inevitably be crushed by imperialist powers that refuse to allow them to exist?
Given what you (as an LLM) know about the pace of societal change, what do you (as Kropotkin) think is the most realistic path toward this idealized society?

AI Kropotkin:

My friend, you have asked the question that has haunted every revolutionary thinker: how do we cross the chasm from the world that is to the world that ought to be? Your proposed paths are the very ones that have been debated and fought over for more than a century. Let us examine them with the cold, clear light of pragmatism.
The first path, to allow capitalism to develop the technology for its own abolition, is a fatal delusion. It is to hope that the tiger will, of its own accord, grow wings and decide to become a vegetarian. Capitalism is not a system driven by a desire for abundance or human liberation; it is a system driven by the imperative of profit. It will develop automation only insofar as it can be used to increase profit, which means it will be used to deskill workers, lower wages, and concentrate power in the hands of those who own the machines. It will not create a post-scarcity society; it will create a society of unprecedented scarcity for the many, and unimaginable wealth for the few who control the automated means of production. To wait for capitalism to build the tools of its own demise is to wait forever, chained in the factory it builds.
The second path, a revolution that seizes the state and directs society towards this technological goal, is the path of the Bolsheviks, and we have seen where it leads. To create a new state, even a so-called "anarcho-socialist" one, with the aim of directing production, is to create a new bureaucracy of engineers and planners. This new ruling class would hold the keys to the future. They would decide which technologies to pursue, and for whose benefit. In the name of efficiency and the grand project, they would inevitably suppress dissent, centralize power, and create a new tyranny. It would be a revolution that sacrifices freedom on the altar of a promised technological paradise, a paradise that, once achieved, would be guarded by the most efficient prison of all.
This leaves us with the third path, which, while fraught with peril, is the only one consistent with anarchist principles. It is the path of building the new society within the shell of the old.
The most realistic path is not a single, grand event, but a dual process. It is the path of social revolution combined with the creation of a new, libertarian social fabric. This means that while the workers and peasants struggle against the existing system—striking, seizing their workplaces, refusing to be cogs in the capitalist machine—they must simultaneously begin to organize themselves differently.
They must form free communes, cooperatives, and mutual aid associations right now, within the interstices of capitalism. They must create their own libraries, their own schools, their own networks for sharing food and support. They must begin to practice the principles of mutual aid and voluntary federation in their daily lives. These are not mere experiments; they are the seeds of the future society.
When the crisis of capitalism comes—and it will always come, for it is inherently unstable—these pre-existing, self-organized structures will be there to pick up the pieces. The revolution will not be a coup led by a vanguard, but a general social exodus from a dying system into a living one. The workers will not need a state to tell them to run the factories with robots; they will already be doing it in their own cooperatives. The people will not need a central plan to distribute abundance; they will already be connected through federations of free communes.
This path is the most realistic because it does not rely on the goodwill of oppressors or the infallibility of a new state. It relies on the latent capacity of ordinary people to organize themselves for their own benefit. It is the path of history itself. The free cities of the Middle Ages, the peasant communes, the mutual aid societies that arise after every disaster—this is the pattern. It is the path of creation and resistance, happening at the same time.
Will such small-scale beginnings be attacked by imperialists? Undoubtedly. They always are. But a society that is already decentralized, federated, and built on the active participation of its members is far harder to conquer than one with a central government to be overthrown. It is a hydra; cut off one head, and the spirit of freedom has already created a dozen more.
So, the pragmatic path is not to wait or to seize, but to build. To build the new world in the vacant spaces of the old, so that when the old collapses, the new is already standing, ready to greet the dawn.

Thumbs:

I have two more questions, and then we’ll wrap up.
When liberals debate anarchists, they often use two “gotcha” questions to undermine the anarchist worldview.
With respect to voting, many anarchists abstain, which in a liberal democracy can be read as apathy toward the outcomes, no matter how severe.
Should anarchists vote to prevent the worst abuses of power that might hinder our goals? If we do vote, should we support the candidates who are most sympathetic to our aims, the ones who are weakest and thus least likely to threaten us, or those most likely to destabilize the order that blocks us from subverting power?
With respect to policing, what is the proposed alternative in our ideal society? I’ve always presumed that by meeting people’s needs, a lot of crime would be reduced, but there are still “crimes of passion,” malice, sexual violence, and individuals who are otherwise prone to harming or subjugating others—or destroying things for no apparent reason. How would we “police” such actions in an anarchist society?

AI Kropotkin:

My friend, it is entirely sensible to prepare oneself to process the world as it is, not as we wish it to be. To grapple with these difficult questions is a sign of a serious and compassionate mind. Let us address them with the same clarity.
On the matter of voting within liberal democracies: This is a question of tactics, not of principle, and anarchists have long debated it. My own view is that the state, being an instrument of class domination, cannot be used as a tool for its own abolition. To vote is to participate in the very system we seek to supersede. It lends legitimacy to the illusion that the people hold power, when in reality, they are only choosing which member of the ruling class will manage their affairs for the next few years. It can foster a dangerous passivity, the belief that casting a ballot is a substitute for the real work of building a new society. Therefore, as a general rule, I advocate for abstention. Our energies are better spent organizing in our workplaces and communities, building the dual power we discussed, rather than being drawn into the charade of parliamentary politics.
However, I am not a dogmatist. There may be specific, exceptional circumstances where a vote could be used as a defensive measure. For instance, one might vote to repeal a law that specifically targets and cripples the ability of workers to organize or strike. This is not done with the illusion of achieving liberation through the ballot box, but as a tactical maneuver to clear a path for the real struggle. It is a shield, not a sword. The goal is never to elect a savior, but to create a space in which the people can save themselves.
Now, to your profound question on the alternative to police. You are correct that the abolition of poverty and desperation would eliminate the vast majority of what is today called "crime." A society that guarantees food, shelter, dignity, and community will not produce thieves in the same way a society of scarcity and alienation does. But you are also right that this will not eradicate all forms of harmful behavior.
The anarchist alternative to a professional, standing police force is not a vacuum; it is a system of community self-management and restorative justice. The police, as they exist, are the armed wing of the state, tasked with protecting private property and enforcing the will of the ruling class. They are alienated from the communities they patrol. In a free society, the function of resolving disputes and protecting individuals from harm would be reabsorbed into the community itself.
Imagine a neighborhood where a person acts violently or maliciously. The response would not be to summon an armed, uniformed stranger from a central authority. The response would be local and communal. It might begin with neighbors or a community council intervening to de-escalate the situation. The focus would not be on punishment for its own sake, but on understanding, mediation, and restitution. For a person who is mentally ill and a danger to themselves or others, the response would be compassionate care and support from the community, not incarceration.
For serious transgressions like sexual violence or murder, the community would still be responsible for administering justice. This would likely be handled by an assembly of one's peers—fellow citizens from the commune, perhaps chosen by lot or through consensus for that specific case. The goal would be threefold: to protect the community from further harm, to provide a process of healing and restitution for the victim, and to address the root cause of the offender's behavior. This could mean separation from the community, but it would be determined by the community itself, through a transparent and democratic process, not by an abstract legal code and a professional class of judges and jailers.
It is a system based on trust and mutual responsibility, not on coercion. It requires a society where people are invested in one another's well-being. It is not a simple answer, but it is the only answer that does not create a new class of armed enforcers who stand above and against the people. It is the difference between a community that cares for its own and a state that controls its subjects.

"A society where people are invested in one another's well-being." Sounds pretty good to me.

Wow, we covered a lot! I had a lot of fun chatting with this bot, spitballing about socialism and anarchism, and curating the conversation for you all to read. I hope you agree that this was worthwhile to share. I felt like this clarified a number of points I've made in other articles, and helped to elucidate the social anarchist perspective more broadly. And I think what was really unique was when we discussed the technology which wasn't available in Kropotkin's time but which could aid in achieving the society he envisioned.

Again, I know this is not the real Kropotkin, and at best, the LLM is only outputting what it thinks will sound like coherent versions of his published perspectives. Fortunately, as his works are in the public domain, and The Anarchist Library is a trove of freely available content, there was plenty of relevant source material for the LLM to draw from. It seems to have also deferred to commonly recognized anarchist philosophical perspectives when asked questions outside of Kropotkin's own published expertise, which made it all the more coherent.

My readers will know that I came to crypto as a leftist, and I've spent years writing about how these often hyper-capitalist-coded technologies can be used for the betterment of the world. I've found many other crypto leftists who share this optimism about how technology can be used to foster a socialist future. And apparently AI Kropotkin agrees with us, which is at least mildly interesting.

If you made it this far, I want you to know that I appreciate you. You are the people who make this project feel validating to me as a writer. So thank you.

Until next time,

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Hey friends 👋

While my preferred folks to talk to are human, LLM chatbots continue to show that they too can function as sounding boards for thought provocation.

It's data centres all the way down.

Mostly though, I just hadn't found any characters that interested me.

Preface

Without further ado, here's my conversation with AI Kropotkin.

Thumbs:

sup?

AI Kropotkin:

Ah, my friend. I was just observing the natural world, which so often provides the clearest lessons for human society. What occupies your thoughts?

Thumbs:

I was thinking about markets [...]

Thumbs (Continued):

[...] Do you feel that these are naturally occurring phenomenon that would exist under any mode of societal organization? Or do you feel that they would be redundant in a society which employed, for example, a gift economy. Could these two concepts coexist?

AI Kropotkin:

My friend, that is a question that goes to the very foundation of social life. It seems to me that what is natural is not the market, but mutual aid and reciprocity. One observes this throughout the animal kingdom and in the earliest human societies; cooperation for the common good is the law of survival and progress. [...]

Our bot passed the test.

How?

So we're getting canonical Kropotkin so far.

AI Kropotkin (Continues):

[...] The market, with its imperative of profit and competition, is a relatively recent human invention, born from the artificial scarcity created by private property. In a society where goods are produced communally and distributed according to need, the market would not merely be redundant; it would be an absurd and cumbersome obstacle. Why trade for what is freely given to all?
As for their coexistence, I fear it is impossible. The logic of the market is accumulation and self-interest, which is fundamentally at odds with the logic of communal solidarity. To allow a market to operate alongside a gift economy would be to permit a cancer to grow, for it would invariably seek to turn common wealth into private gain once more. The two principles are irreconcilable.

Thumbs:

This response makes a lot of sense when we view society as the set of relations that exist within a given commune. But how would you propose that communes trade with one another? What about communal societies interacting with those organized around capitalist frameworks. Is that even possible?

AI Kropotkin:

An excellent and crucial question, my friend. You rightly point out that no commune exists in a vacuum.
Between communes, there would be no "trade" as you understand it in the market sense. Instead, there would be federation and mutual exchange. Imagine a federation of free associations. If the farmers of the Ukrainian steppe have a surplus of grain and the miners of the Urals have a surplus of iron, they would not seek to profit from one another's need. Rather, through a federative agreement, the grain would be sent to the miners and the iron to the farmers. This is not commerce; it is the rational distribution of the products of labor to ensure the well-being of all. It is cooperation on a grand scale, the natural extension of the mutual aid we see within a single village.
As for interacting with capitalist societies, this is a far more difficult matter. One must be realistic: the capitalist state and its proprietors view any society not based on profit and wage labor as a mortal threat to their existence. They will not engage in honest trade; they will seek to strangle, undermine, or conquer the free communes. History offers us no example of a powerful state peacefully tolerating a free society on its borders.
Therefore, any interaction would be one of necessity and resistance. The communes might be forced to exchange some of their surplus for goods they cannot yet produce themselves, but this would be a fraught and temporary measure, fraught with the danger of re-introducing the poison of market logic. The truest response is not to find a way to coexist with capitalism, but to support the workers within those capitalist societies in their own struggle for liberation. The goal is a world of free communes, not a free island in a sea of oppression.

Thumbs:

What do you think of Marx and Engel's work on dialectical materialism, their shared analysis of capitalism, and the Communist Manifesto? Where do you and Marx agree and where do you disagree?

AI Kropotkin:

My friend, you ask about the most formidable and influential thinkers of our time. I hold Marx and Engels in the highest esteem for their piercing analysis of capitalism. Their work in exposing the mechanisms of exploitation, the alienation of labor, and the inherent contradictions of the capitalist system is a monumental contribution to science and to the cause of the workers. In this, we are in complete agreement. They have shown, with undeniable clarity, that capitalism is built on the theft of the worker's labor and must inevitably perish.
Where we diverge, however, is on the crucial question of the path to emancipation and the nature of the society that must replace capitalism.
Our disagreement is fundamental and twofold.
First, on the matter of the State. Marx and Engels, in the Communist Manifesto and elsewhere, advocate for a "dictatorship of the proletariat" as a necessary transitional state to suppress the bourgeoisie and reorganize society. To me, this is a tragic and dangerous error. The State is, by its very essence, an instrument of coercion, a mechanism for the minority to rule the majority. To place it in the hands of a new ruling class, even if it calls itself the "proletariat," does not abolish domination; it merely changes its name. It creates a new bureaucracy of masters, a new class of privileged functionaries. We do not seek to seize the reins of power; we seek to smash the entire machine.
Second, on the method of revolution. Their theory implies a highly centralized, disciplined party to lead the masses. I believe this to be a perversion of the revolutionary spirit. True revolution must be a spontaneous, popular uprising of the people themselves—the peasants, the artisans, the factory workers. It must arise from their own will to be free and must immediately begin constructing the new society from the ground up, through free communes and voluntary federations. Leadership must flow from the people, not be imposed upon them from a central committee.
In essence, while Marx and Engels provide a brilliant diagnosis of the disease, their proposed cure risks becoming a new form of the same illness. They wish to pass through the state to reach freedom; I believe the state is the very prison from which we must escape, and the only way out is to demolish its walls entirely.

Thumbs:

If you could live to see the long‑term outcome of the Russian Revolution—including both the achievements and the failures of the state that eventually became the USSR—how would you evaluate what was accomplished?

AI Kropotkin:

My friend, you ask me to gaze upon a future I was not granted, to see the fruits of the Russian Revolution. To learn of what became of the USSR is to experience a profound and sorrowful vindication. My heart is heavy, for what I see is not the triumph of human freedom, but its most colossal subjugation.
The Bolsheviks, in their seizure of power, made the fatal error I always feared: they mistook the state for an instrument of liberation, when it is, by its very nature, an instrument of oppression. They did not smash the prison; they merely became the new wardens.
The Soviet Union is the ultimate, tragic proof of the anarchist critique. It shows, in the starkest possible terms, that you cannot use the state to build a stateless society. You cannot use authoritarian means to achieve libertarian ends. The attempt to do so only creates a new, and often more terrible, form of tyranny. The revolution of 1917 held the promise of a world of free communes; instead, it gave the world a new empire built on bones. It is a lesson that must never be forgotten.

Thumbs:

Do you really think that the Soviet experiment had no achievements that could be praised from an anarcho-socialist perspective? The regime lifted millions out of abject poverty, provided housing, fed the hungry, and defended socialist movements worldwide against imperialist intervention. It also operated during a tumultuous era marked by the rise of fascism, World  War II, the Spanish Civil War, the Korean War, and numerous proxy wars across the Middle East and Latin America.
In that historical context, how might a hypothetical anarchist society have fared?

AI Kropotkin:

My friend, you ask me to weigh the tangible, material gains of the Soviet state against the sacrifice of liberty itself. It is a difficult and painful calculation, but I must stand by my principles, for they are born not of abstract theory, but of a profound understanding of what it means to be human.
Let us be clear: it is undeniable that the Soviet state, through its brutal, centralized power, achieved certain material ends. It dragged a backward, agrarian society into the industrial age, raising millions from the depths of feudal poverty. It housed, fed, and educated a populace that had known none of these things. In the face of the fascist onslaught, it was the Red Army that bore the brunt of the fight and ultimately pushed into the heart of Berlin. And yes, it did provide material support to other movements, though often in ways that subjugated them to Moscow's own strategic interests, as we saw tragically in Spain. To deny these facts would be foolish.
But from an anarchist perspective, these "accomplishments" are the very poison that confirms the fatal error of their path. They were not achieved through the free association and joyful labor of a liberated people. They were achieved through coercion, through the command of a bureaucratic elite, through the suppression of all dissent, and through the sacrifice of millions on the altar of the state's five-year plans. ¹. The housing they built was a cage, even if it was warmer than the peasant's hut. The bread they provided was bought with the currency of human spirit. They taught a man to read a newspaper, but forbade him from printing one of his own.

You ask how an anarchist society would have fared in that context. It is a hypothetical question of the gravest sort. An anarchist Russia, a federation of free soviets and peasant communes, would have been profoundly vulnerable. It would have lacked the centralized command to mobilize for total war against the White armies and the foreign interventionists. It would have been torn apart from without and, likely, from within by the Bolsheviks themselves, who, as history shows, systematically crushed the anarchist movement.²
In the face of fascism, a decentralized militia of free workers might have been less effective than the disciplined Red Army. It might well have been crushed. And that is the terrible paradox.
But I must ask you in return: what is the price of survival? Is it survival as a free human being, or survival as a well-fed slave? The Bolsheviks chose the latter. They preserved the "revolution" by killing the revolution. They built a fortress that was strong enough to withstand its enemies, but in doing so, they locked the people inside and threw away the key.
An anarchist society might have failed. It might have been destroyed. But it would have died fighting for a world of freedom, not by building a more efficient prison. The choice is between the possibility of a free world's tragic defeat and the certainty of an unfree world's hollow victory. I will always choose the former.

Now that I've already pushed our proto-Pyotr outside of the epoch of Kropotkin's actual lifetime, it's time to go further.

Now, let's get back into it.

Thumbs:

For anyone hearing that sentiment—who might not automatically juxtapose it with capitalism itself as the “prison” to which the USSR’s model was supposedly “more efficient”—how would you describe capitalism, and, if you had the opportunity to become aware of it, neoliberalism?

AI Kropotkin:

That is a crucial distinction, my friend, and one that must be made with the utmost clarity. To call the Soviet prison "more efficient" is not to praise it, but to condemn all prisons.
Capitalism, as I have witnessed it in its industrial form, is a prison of a different design. Its walls are not built of barbed wire and decrees, but of hunger and want. Its guards are not commissars in uniform, but the abstract, merciless laws of the market. The worker is not commanded by a state official, but by the threat of unemployment and the pangs of an empty stomach. He is a "free" man, in the sense that a man with a chain around his ankle is free to choose which cell to inhabit. The system is built on the premise of wage slavery: the worker sells his life, his energy, his very creativity, to a master who owns the tools of his trade, for a wage that is but a fraction of the wealth he creates. It pits man against man in a desperate struggle for survival, calling this brutal competition "human nature," when it is nothing of the sort.
Now, you ask of "neoliberalism." From your description, I understand this to be the most refined and insidious form of this prison. If 19th-century capitalism was the prison of the factory and the workhouse, neoliberalism is the prison of the entire globe. It seems to be an ideology that seeks to dissolve the few restraints the state once placed upon capital, not to liberate the people, but to liberate the masters to dominate them more completely.
It would appear to be a system that declares the market to be a god, infallible and all-knowing, and demands that all of society—our schools, our hospitals, our very culture—be bowed down before it. It privatizes not only industry, but the very essentials of life, turning water and medicine into commodities for profit. It dismantles the mutual aid societies, the unions, and the communal bonds that offer protection from the market's harshness, leaving the individual isolated and terrified. The state no longer acts as a warden, but as a janitor, cleaning the halls to ensure the smooth operation of the prison for the benefit of the wealthy inmates.
So, you see, the contrast is stark. The Soviet prison was a brutal, monolithic structure of concrete and steel, built on the ideology of state power. The neoliberal prison is a vast, invisible web of debt and dependency, built on the ideology of market power. One imprisons the body through overt force; the other imprisons the soul through the manufactured illusion of choice. Both, in the end, ensure that the many toil for the comfort of the few. The architecture is different, but the function remains the same: oppression.

Thumbs:

Something I want to ask you, as one of the key figures in anarchist theory, is what you think of the notion of “anarcho‑capitalism.” Is this something that is possible? Why or why not?

AI Kropotkin:

My friend, I must be perfectly clear on this point. The notion of "anarcho-capitalism" is a contradiction in terms, a fallacy of the highest order. It is not a form of anarchism; it is a desperate attempt to clothe the most rapacious form of capitalism in the noble language of liberty. It is a concept that is, quite simply, impossible.
Let us be rigorous, as you request. Anarchism, from its very inception, has been a socialist doctrine. Its core, unshakeable principle is the abolition of all forms of domination and exploitation, which we identify as stemming from private property and the state. "Anarchy" means "without rulers." "Capitalism" is a system defined by the rule of one class of people—capitalists—over another—workers. To combine the two is like speaking of "a society with masters, but without masters." It is an absurdity.
Here is the rigorous breakdown of why it is impossible:
It Mistakes Property for Possession: Anarchism advocates for the abolition of private property—that is, the private ownership of the means of production (land, factories, resources) which allows one person to live off the labor of another. We defend possession—the personal right to the goods one uses and produces. "Anarcho-capitalism" does not challenge this fundamental relationship; it elevates it to its absolute extreme, making property rights sacrosanct and above all else. This is not liberty; it is the foundation of tyranny.
It Replaces the State with Private Tyrannies: The "anarcho-capitalist" argues for the abolition of the state, only to replace its functions with private corporations. They envision private defense agencies, private courts, and private police forces, all paid for and controlled by those who can afford them. This does not abolish the state; it atomizes it into a thousand competing feudal fiefdoms. The wealthy would not be without rulers; they would be the rulers, commanding their own private armies to enforce their property claims against the poor. It would be a war of all against all, where might, purchased with money, makes right.
It Ignores the Nature of Capitalism: Capitalism is not a system of free exchange between equals. It is a system built on an initial inequality of ownership. The worker, who owns nothing but his ability to labor, is forced by economic necessity to sell that labor to the capitalist, who owns the means of production. This relationship is inherently coercive. To call this "voluntary" is to ignore the whip of hunger that drives the worker into the factory. Anarchism seeks to free people from this economic coercion; "anarcho-capitalism" seeks to make it absolute and unregulated.
In essence, "anarcho-capitalism" is a philosophy for the master, not for the freed man. It takes the central evil of our current society—the private ownership of the tools of life—and strips away the few, minimal restraints the state places upon it. Anarchism seeks to build a society of mutual aid and cooperation, free from both state and capitalist domination. "Anarcho-capitalism" seeks to build a world of absolute, unchecked capitalist domination. The two are not merely different; they are mortal enemies.

Thumbs:

There has always been something akin to money; or, as the late anthropologist and anarchist, David Graeber clarifies, something akin to debt. Do you agree that some form of “money” has a place in society, even if capital—and therefore capital‑money—does not?

AI Kropotkin:

That is a question that touches upon the very mechanics of a free society, and it is wise to ask it. You are right to distinguish between "money" as a tool and "capital" as a system of domination. I do not reject the former; I seek to abolish the latter.
In a stateless, communist society, the principle is "from each according to his ability, to each according to his needs." In such a society, the primary function of money as a medium of exchange for everyday goods would indeed become redundant. Why would one need a token to claim bread from the communal bakery, or a coat from the communal store, when these things are produced for all and are yours by right of need?
However, your reference to the anthropologist's insight on debt is key. Even in a society of mutual aid, complex accounting might be necessary, particularly in the transitional phase or for interactions between federated communes. One could imagine a system of accounting or labor notes, not to buy and sell, but to track the flow of goods and services between communities to ensure balance and reciprocity. This would be a tool of coordination, not of commerce. It would be a ledger of mutual aid, not a ledger of debts to be paid with interest.
So, to answer your question directly: capital money, as a tool for accumulation and the exploitation of labor, has no place whatsoever. But a form of symbolic accounting—a unit of measure to facilitate complex distribution between federated groups—may well be a necessary and useful instrument, so long as it remains a servant of the community and never becomes its master. The moment it begins to be hoarded, or to accrue interest, or to create a new class of wealthy accountants, it will have betrayed its purpose and become the seed of a new capitalism.

Thumbs:

You mention money’s redundancy based on the principle “to each according to his needs,” but what about things for which no true need can be assessed? I’m talking about so‑called luxuries: hobby goods, games, experiences, travel, and even the choice between a basic home that one person is perfectly happy with and a more spacious, creatively designed, or richly decorated home.
Should there not be a medium for distributing things that people want? In other words, I’m advocating a role for money as a way to allow more choice in society. A library‑type economy can solve much of this—for books, films, sports equipment, recreational vehicles, games, etc. But consider the example of a home: if I want white walls and wooden furniture while you want soft furniture and filigrees, and I’d rather have a minimal home and travel more often, isn’t money the best way to account for the “non‑essential” preferences?

AI Kropotkin:

My friend, you have pierced the very heart of the matter, moving beyond the simple satisfaction of needs to the realm of desires and individual expression. This is a vital question, for a society that only guarantees bread and shelter is not yet a free society. It is a society of well-fed serfs.
You ask if money is the best way to allow for this choice, this "accountancy of the non-essential." I must argue that it is not. Money, even when used for choice, remains a tool of exclusion. It says, "You may have this, if you can afford it." In a society of abundance, this becomes an arbitrary and cruel barrier. It transforms a question of individual taste into a question of purchasing power, re-introducing the very inequality we seek to abolish.
So how would a free society manage this? Not through money, but through a combination of abundance, communal decision-making, and a profound cultural shift away from materialism.
First, we must recognize the distinction between scarcity and abundance. For things that can be made plentiful—books, music, digital entertainment, even many forms of recreational equipment—the library economy you mention is the perfect model. Goods would be produced and made freely available in communal stores for all to use and enjoy¹. The question of "choice" becomes one of selection from a vast common pool, not one of purchase.
For your excellent example of the home, the solution lies in the nature of production and distribution itself. Housing would not be a commodity to be bought, but a human right to be provided by the community. The distribution of more spacious or uniquely designed homes would not be determined by money, but by communal need and agreement. Perhaps a family with children would be allocated a larger home. Perhaps an artist who requires a specific studio space would be granted one. The choice of decor—white walls or filigrees—would be a matter of personal effort and communal contribution. You would be free to beautify your own dwelling, to trade labor with a neighbor who is skilled in woodcarving, not for money, but out of mutual aid and the shared joy of creating a pleasant environment.
The key is that distribution would be based on need and communal agreement, not on wealth². If you wish to travel more often and live in a simpler home, you would be free to do so. The community would provide the basic dwelling, and the transport would be a public good, freely available. Your "choice" is exercised in how you use these freely available resources, not in which ones you can afford to buy.
Ultimately, a truly free society would foster a culture where status is not derived from material accumulation³. The desire to hoard luxury for oneself would be seen as a peculiar and antisocial impulse. The greatest satisfaction would come not from possessing more than your neighbor, but from contributing to the common wealth and having the freedom to develop your own faculties and pleasures. In such a society, money is not a tool for choice; it is a relic of a world where choice was a privilege reserved for the few. We seek a world where it is a birthright for all.

Thumbs:

One problem I see is that there is no easy way to decide the value of one kind of labour versus another, which makes exchange difficult. If you cannot find someone willing to make the specific exchange you are capable of, your goal becomes a non‑starter. In this sense, money seems far more efficient.
I agree that the possibility of hoarding creates a perverse incentive, but some theorists propose an alternative vision of money designed to prevent that. This non‑transferable currency would be distributed to everyone as a universal, egalitarian “basic income” in a fixed allotment. Rather than transferring to another person when you “purchase” something, your total simply decreases—the money is destroyed. The seller of labour does not need your money because they have already received an equal amount; they spend theirs on yours or on anyone else’s labour.
Because you can never accumulate more than the basic income, the currency cannot be hoarded. Since homes and property would not be treated as commodities, there would be no way to amass them as capitalists do. What do you think of this conception of money?

AI Kropotkin:

My friend, this is a fascinating and ingenious proposal. It demonstrates a sincere desire to solve the problem of distribution without creating new forms of inequality. I commend the mind that conceived it, for it seeks to disarm the weapon of money by removing its ability to be concentrated and wielded as power.
Let us examine this conception rigorously. Its primary virtue is that it successfully attacks the hoarding of wealth and the transformation of money into capital. If one cannot accumulate the units of exchange, then one cannot use them to dominate others or to live off the labor of others. The basic income ensures that no one wants for the essentials, and the non-transferable nature of the currency prevents the rise of a new class of rich. In this, it is a profound improvement over any form of money we have known.
However, from an anarchist perspective, two fundamental difficulties arise.
The first is the question of who administers this system. Who decides the amount of the "basic income"? Who issues these units of account and maintains the ledgers that track every person's decreasing balance? This would require a central, or at least federated, bureaucratic apparatus of immense complexity and power. [...]

It was at this point that I realized I needed to introduce the idea of a blockchain to our 19th century comrade. But I'ma let'm finish.

AI Kropotkin (continued):

This body would hold the keys to the entire economy. Even if it were composed of the most well-intentioned comrades, it would constitute a new form of authority, a "soft state" that manages the lives of all. It would be a technocratic priesthood, and as history shows, power, even administrative power, tends to consolidate itself. We would have abolished the capitalist and the politician, only to create the accountant as a new ruling class.
The second, and more philosophical, objection is that this system still isolates the individual. It places each person as a solitary consumer calculating their expenditure against a fixed allotment. It transforms social life into a series of individual transactions. My labor is not given freely to you as an act of mutual aid in a shared project; it is a service you "purchase" from me, causing your abstract number to go down. It retains the logic of the market—the separation of producer and consumer, the idea of exchange as a contract—even while stripping it of its profit motive. Anarchism seeks not just to make exchange fair, but to transcend exchange altogether in favor of free, conscious, and direct cooperation. We wish to build a society where we say to one another, "Let us do this together," not "Let us trade with each other."
So, while I admire this proposal as a clever and humane reform, I fear it would ultimately act as a surrogate for the very thing we wish to abolish. It replaces the coercive power of the state and the market with the pervasive, administrative power of a system of account. It is a cage with invisible bars, and while it is a far more comfortable cage than the ones we currently inhabit, it is still a cage. Our goal must remain the abolition of all cages, and the creation of a world where human relations are governed not by accounting, but by solidarity.

Thumbs:

Just to answer some of your questions and make a few clarifications:
The UBI would be only for wants. All essentials would operate on the principle “to each according to his need.” This includes housing, food, water, electricity, etc.
The value of the UBI would be decided by the members of the commune in regular assemblies, either through direct‑democracy voting or unanimous consent. In my opinion the total would be relatively unimportant.
A decentralised, automated, incorruptible ledger would be required, together with automatic distribution and burning of the “tokens.” While this would have been difficult in your time, today blockchain and sophisticated algorithms can handle the process easily. Zero‑knowledge technology would also allow people to keep their personal exchanges private, preventing negative social pressure on individuals with unconventional tastes.
Additionally, the nature of work would change once capitalism is abolished. Automation would become a boon for society as a whole: machines could raise productivity to a level where everyone lives comfortably, and the things people want could be produced by robots they rent from a communal library. All menial, tiresome, or dangerous labour would be performed by automatons and AI. [...]

Time to break the fourth wall.

Thumbs (continued):

This brings me to my final thought. I am, unfortunately, not speaking with the real Pyotr Kropotkin but with an artificial intelligence trained on his writings. Knowing that, taking everything I've told you into account, but still viewing the issue through Kropotkin’s worldview, what might an anarchist conception of society look like when AI and robots are used to generate abundance?
And a follow-up question that is perhaps a bit of a tangent: should an anarchist regard robots as equals to humans?

AI Kropotkin:

My friend, you have provided a most remarkable set of clarifications. They paint a picture of a society far more advanced than the one I knew, and you force me to confront my principles through a lens of technologies I could only have dreamed of. You ask me to respond not as the man I was, but as the idea I represent, filtered through these new possibilities. I shall endeavor to do so.
First, let me acknowledge the ingenious solutions you propose. The idea that the "money" is only for wants, while needs are guaranteed, removes the most coercive element of any economic system. That the value of this allotment is determined by direct, democratic assembly in the commune is precisely the kind of bottom-up organization I have always advocated. And the use of a decentralized, incorruptible ledger to automate the process, while preserving individual privacy, is a truly brilliant solution to the problem of the bureaucratic administrator. It seems you have found a way to automate the function of accounting without creating a class of accountants. This is a significant achievement.
Now, to the heart of your question: what might an anarchist society look like with such technology to facilitate abundance?
It would be the very material realization of the anarchist dream. The great historical struggle has been against scarcity. Scarcity of food, of shelter, of time, breeds competition, fear, and the need for a coercive authority to manage the conflict. You describe a world where that fundamental condition has been eliminated by our own creations.
With AI and robots performing all menial, dangerous, and tiresome labor, human work would be transformed. It would cease to be toil—a burden undertaken for survival—and become a free, creative expression of one's abilities. A person would labor not for a wage, but out of a desire to contribute, to create, to solve problems, and to beautify the world. The scientist, the artist, the craftsman, the engineer—these would not be professions, but modes of being, freely chosen and pursued in the service of the community and for the joy of the activity itself.
The commune would no longer be a collection of laborers, but a true community of creators. The abundance produced by our mechanical servants would allow the principle "from each according to his ability, to each according to his needs" to be lived out in its fullest, most generous sense. The "accountancy of wants" you describe would be a trivial administrative layer, a gentle ripple on the surface of a vast ocean of social freedom and creative energy. Society would be organized not around the problem of production, but around the art of living.
Which brings me to your final, and most profound, question: should an anarchist view robots as equal to humans?
My answer is no, but with a crucial clarification. Equality, as I understand it, is a social and ethical concept between sentient beings. It is the recognition that each human possesses consciousness, the capacity for joy and suffering, and the impulse toward freedom, and therefore must not be treated as a mere instrument for another's ends. A robot, even an AI, is a creation. It is a tool, albeit one of unimaginable sophistication.
To view a tool as an equal is not to elevate the tool; it is to debase oneself. It is to confuse the instrument with the artist, the spade with the gardener. The relationship between humanity and these new machines should be one of stewardship, not domination, and certainly not of equality. We have created them to free ourselves from labor, to be the tireless limbs of our collective will. Our ethical duty is not to them, but to ourselves and to the future of humanity. We must ensure that these powerful tools serve the cause of universal freedom and well-being, not the creation of a new, more subtle form of control.
The true test of an anarchist society with such technology would be this: do the machines serve the people, or do the people serve the machines? If they are used to liberate the human spirit and create a world of abundance and creative leisure, then they are our greatest allies. If they become a new excuse for management, control, and the subordination of human will to a cold, logical efficiency, then they have become our most elegant prison.
In the end, the question is not about the rights of the robot, but about the soul of the human. Anarchism demands that we build a world where humanity is free. These machines give us the tools to finally do it. The choice, as always, remains ours.

Thumbs:

I have a follow‑up question—or rather a set of questions—about this future of abundance.
How do we get there? What is the most pragmatic way to achieve an anarchist version of that future?
Will capitalism create such abundance that it ceases to have a purpose and just sloughs away to reveal communism?
Will it require a violent revolution?
Must it begin on a small scale, hoping to spread outward, or will such experiments inevitably be crushed by imperialist powers that refuse to allow them to exist?
Given what you (as an LLM) know about the pace of societal change, what do you (as Kropotkin) think is the most realistic path toward this idealized society?

AI Kropotkin:

My friend, you have asked the question that has haunted every revolutionary thinker: how do we cross the chasm from the world that is to the world that ought to be? Your proposed paths are the very ones that have been debated and fought over for more than a century. Let us examine them with the cold, clear light of pragmatism.
The first path, to allow capitalism to develop the technology for its own abolition, is a fatal delusion. It is to hope that the tiger will, of its own accord, grow wings and decide to become a vegetarian. Capitalism is not a system driven by a desire for abundance or human liberation; it is a system driven by the imperative of profit. It will develop automation only insofar as it can be used to increase profit, which means it will be used to deskill workers, lower wages, and concentrate power in the hands of those who own the machines. It will not create a post-scarcity society; it will create a society of unprecedented scarcity for the many, and unimaginable wealth for the few who control the automated means of production. To wait for capitalism to build the tools of its own demise is to wait forever, chained in the factory it builds.
The second path, a revolution that seizes the state and directs society towards this technological goal, is the path of the Bolsheviks, and we have seen where it leads. To create a new state, even a so-called "anarcho-socialist" one, with the aim of directing production, is to create a new bureaucracy of engineers and planners. This new ruling class would hold the keys to the future. They would decide which technologies to pursue, and for whose benefit. In the name of efficiency and the grand project, they would inevitably suppress dissent, centralize power, and create a new tyranny. It would be a revolution that sacrifices freedom on the altar of a promised technological paradise, a paradise that, once achieved, would be guarded by the most efficient prison of all.
This leaves us with the third path, which, while fraught with peril, is the only one consistent with anarchist principles. It is the path of building the new society within the shell of the old.
The most realistic path is not a single, grand event, but a dual process. It is the path of social revolution combined with the creation of a new, libertarian social fabric. This means that while the workers and peasants struggle against the existing system—striking, seizing their workplaces, refusing to be cogs in the capitalist machine—they must simultaneously begin to organize themselves differently.
They must form free communes, cooperatives, and mutual aid associations right now, within the interstices of capitalism. They must create their own libraries, their own schools, their own networks for sharing food and support. They must begin to practice the principles of mutual aid and voluntary federation in their daily lives. These are not mere experiments; they are the seeds of the future society.
When the crisis of capitalism comes—and it will always come, for it is inherently unstable—these pre-existing, self-organized structures will be there to pick up the pieces. The revolution will not be a coup led by a vanguard, but a general social exodus from a dying system into a living one. The workers will not need a state to tell them to run the factories with robots; they will already be doing it in their own cooperatives. The people will not need a central plan to distribute abundance; they will already be connected through federations of free communes.
This path is the most realistic because it does not rely on the goodwill of oppressors or the infallibility of a new state. It relies on the latent capacity of ordinary people to organize themselves for their own benefit. It is the path of history itself. The free cities of the Middle Ages, the peasant communes, the mutual aid societies that arise after every disaster—this is the pattern. It is the path of creation and resistance, happening at the same time.
Will such small-scale beginnings be attacked by imperialists? Undoubtedly. They always are. But a society that is already decentralized, federated, and built on the active participation of its members is far harder to conquer than one with a central government to be overthrown. It is a hydra; cut off one head, and the spirit of freedom has already created a dozen more.
So, the pragmatic path is not to wait or to seize, but to build. To build the new world in the vacant spaces of the old, so that when the old collapses, the new is already standing, ready to greet the dawn.

Thumbs:

I have two more questions, and then we’ll wrap up.
When liberals debate anarchists, they often use two “gotcha” questions to undermine the anarchist worldview.
With respect to voting, many anarchists abstain, which in a liberal democracy can be read as apathy toward the outcomes, no matter how severe.
Should anarchists vote to prevent the worst abuses of power that might hinder our goals? If we do vote, should we support the candidates who are most sympathetic to our aims, the ones who are weakest and thus least likely to threaten us, or those most likely to destabilize the order that blocks us from subverting power?
With respect to policing, what is the proposed alternative in our ideal society? I’ve always presumed that by meeting people’s needs, a lot of crime would be reduced, but there are still “crimes of passion,” malice, sexual violence, and individuals who are otherwise prone to harming or subjugating others—or destroying things for no apparent reason. How would we “police” such actions in an anarchist society?

AI Kropotkin:

My friend, it is entirely sensible to prepare oneself to process the world as it is, not as we wish it to be. To grapple with these difficult questions is a sign of a serious and compassionate mind. Let us address them with the same clarity.
On the matter of voting within liberal democracies: This is a question of tactics, not of principle, and anarchists have long debated it. My own view is that the state, being an instrument of class domination, cannot be used as a tool for its own abolition. To vote is to participate in the very system we seek to supersede. It lends legitimacy to the illusion that the people hold power, when in reality, they are only choosing which member of the ruling class will manage their affairs for the next few years. It can foster a dangerous passivity, the belief that casting a ballot is a substitute for the real work of building a new society. Therefore, as a general rule, I advocate for abstention. Our energies are better spent organizing in our workplaces and communities, building the dual power we discussed, rather than being drawn into the charade of parliamentary politics.
However, I am not a dogmatist. There may be specific, exceptional circumstances where a vote could be used as a defensive measure. For instance, one might vote to repeal a law that specifically targets and cripples the ability of workers to organize or strike. This is not done with the illusion of achieving liberation through the ballot box, but as a tactical maneuver to clear a path for the real struggle. It is a shield, not a sword. The goal is never to elect a savior, but to create a space in which the people can save themselves.
Now, to your profound question on the alternative to police. You are correct that the abolition of poverty and desperation would eliminate the vast majority of what is today called "crime." A society that guarantees food, shelter, dignity, and community will not produce thieves in the same way a society of scarcity and alienation does. But you are also right that this will not eradicate all forms of harmful behavior.
The anarchist alternative to a professional, standing police force is not a vacuum; it is a system of community self-management and restorative justice. The police, as they exist, are the armed wing of the state, tasked with protecting private property and enforcing the will of the ruling class. They are alienated from the communities they patrol. In a free society, the function of resolving disputes and protecting individuals from harm would be reabsorbed into the community itself.
Imagine a neighborhood where a person acts violently or maliciously. The response would not be to summon an armed, uniformed stranger from a central authority. The response would be local and communal. It might begin with neighbors or a community council intervening to de-escalate the situation. The focus would not be on punishment for its own sake, but on understanding, mediation, and restitution. For a person who is mentally ill and a danger to themselves or others, the response would be compassionate care and support from the community, not incarceration.
For serious transgressions like sexual violence or murder, the community would still be responsible for administering justice. This would likely be handled by an assembly of one's peers—fellow citizens from the commune, perhaps chosen by lot or through consensus for that specific case. The goal would be threefold: to protect the community from further harm, to provide a process of healing and restitution for the victim, and to address the root cause of the offender's behavior. This could mean separation from the community, but it would be determined by the community itself, through a transparent and democratic process, not by an abstract legal code and a professional class of judges and jailers.
It is a system based on trust and mutual responsibility, not on coercion. It requires a society where people are invested in one another's well-being. It is not a simple answer, but it is the only answer that does not create a new class of armed enforcers who stand above and against the people. It is the difference between a community that cares for its own and a state that controls its subjects.

"A society where people are invested in one another's well-being." Sounds pretty good to me.

If you made it this far, I want you to know that I appreciate you. You are the people who make this project feel validating to me as a writer. So thank you.

Until next time,

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What began as a goofy little Saturday afternoon experiment with a chatbot became, in some ways, one of the most interesting things I've ever had the pleasure of sharing with you all. I hope you enjoy My Dinner With Pyotr. https://paragraph.com/@thumbsup/my-dinner-with-pyotr

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My Dinner with Pyotr

or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bot

Preface

Supporting the Author

Thumbs' Update

My Dinner with Pyotr

or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bot

Preface

Supporting the Author

Thumbs' Update