Change the World Without Taking Power has already been widely debated, especially as regards the political connotations of the book. For that reason, it is difficult for the reviewer to fuel the political debate with fresh considerations; but a short comment on the theoretical ground of the argument may hold interest, nevertheless. If the core of the book is the notion of fetishism, its starting-point is the scream against the horrors of capitalism: a two-dimensional scream that comprises rage and hope, and which is rooted in the experience of the evil of capital, and the projection beyond it of an alternative otherness. Thus, Holloway stresses once and again that the starting-point is an active refusal: a scream that implies a doing that points to the negation of what exists; doing not just as work, but as the whole movement of practical negativity. Then, the base of his theoretical reflection would be the 'scream-doing' and its movement against limits, against containment, against closure: in short, subjectivity. Although Holloway qualifies this starting-point as a concrete scream-doing against the misery of capitalist society, I would argue that this is just the rhetorical point of departure of his argument. Holloway does not offer any characterisation of the kind of negative practice involved in this scream-doing, except for a short list of empirical examples composed of some predictable collective struggles and individual acts. On the contrary, the actual starting-point of the argument is the most abstract and universal notion of human doing imaginable, but not the negative practice that arises from our active scream of opposition to capitalism. Holloway's real premise is the amorphous social flow of doing, in which 'past doing (of ourselves and others) becomes the means of doing in the present' and 'our doings are so intertwined that it is impossible to say where one ends and another begins' (p. 22). (1) Furthermore, the material constitution of the 'we' who scream is the outcome of 'the conscious and unconscious, planned and unplanned, braiding of our lives through time' (p. 22)--not the result of the movement of negative practice. After posing this theoretical premise Holloway shows, by analysis, that embedded in the social flow of doing lies a power-to-do, 'a uniting, a bringing together of my doing with the doing of others' (p. 24). Power-to will be the implicit material substratum that becomes power-over when both doing and its social flow are broken by the separation and private appropriation of the done. It is the critique of this separation--of done from doing, of existence from constitution, of conception from realisation, of subject from object--that leads the argument to its 'turning point': the vulnerability of power-over; in other words, the dependence of the powerful on the powerless, of the done on the doer. However, in order to grasp the source of this vulnerability it is crucial to understand, first, that the antagonistic mode of existence of the broken doing is the movement of the antagonistic relations between contents and the forms of existence of these contents. Power-to; doing; done, are the contents dominated and denied by their social forms--power-over; labour; capital. In short, the whole secret resides on quite a simple point: that no matter how much the done dominates and denies the doing, the done depends absolutely on the doing for its existence. Everything else is an illusion, albeit a very real one. By this analytical path we arrive at the notion of fetishism which is, according to Holloway, the way in which the rupture of doing was conceived of by Marx. Then, the last theoretical step of the argument will be to infuse movement into the notion of fetishism, by transforming the hard approach into a form-process approach: fetishisation. In my view, there are some fatal flaws in this argument. …