What’s striking about this is how much it refuses a politics of either exodus (the return to some lost human community and/or nature), separation (autonomy as class that can stand apart from the systems it is embedded in and fight from there), or representation (the negotiation of competing interests on the basis of displacement into single individuals or councils to stand in for many)—the three options that arguably constitute the majority of political thought, including of a radical bent. Instead, sabotage tends to suggest a form of inflection, one that sees the ground of its daily activity as a diachronic map and tremendous reserve of materials, aspects, and properties constantly contested and open to inversions. It suggests, in part, that we begin to treat that ground—the lived terrain of capitalism—as itself an enormous inhuman and self-drafting design project, both seemingly made for and by us, however viciously, and yet driven by principles and tendencies that can be assigned to no one, to no plan of action or authored project of accumulation.
To sabotage, then, means to let the negation vanish into that design, in a dissimulating mimicry of normal function that only shows itself as noise, turbulence, and a creeping sense that something is going on here
The connection between this form of cunning and design, especially as figured in the mode of the trap, is drawn out particularly well by Benedict Singleton. See, for instance, “Maximum Jailbreak“ . The failures it helps precipitate are posed unstably between malfunction and malevolence,