Against Think-Tank Socialism: a Review of ‘Inventing the Future’

Jean Allen reviews Srnicek & Williams’ ‘Inventing the Future’, which calls for an intellectual counter-hegemony to neoliberalism. Does this proposal for counter-hegemonic institutions really put anything new on the table, or just reflect the prevailing organizational norms of the existing left?

When Inventing the Future came out, it immediately became the target of a series of relatively uninteresting critiques. This wasn’t accidental: the book is very self consciously a gadfly text meant to sting the left into a particular strategy, and it is purposefully oriented in opposition to much of the Left’s practices. This makes it the difficult kind of book where, despite its flaws, the critiques are often worse than the book itself. Despite the small uproar the book created, few of these reviews hit the mark. This problem comes from an utter lack of critical tools available to current socialists which have produced few critiques that are able to take in the entirety of Srnicek & Williams’ argument.

One could separate Inventing the Future into two arguments: first, their practical one, and second, their policy platform. These proposals, including the abolition of work and the furthering of automation (or “Fully Automated Luxury Communism”, or FALC as the meme goes), understandably got most of the attention, alongside their argument that the left should surrender its particularism and return to a universalist and future-oriented viewpoint. Because there has been quite a bit of writing on this aspect of the text, I will bracket it, excepting a discussion of what these arguments meant from a practical standpoint.

In the period when Inventing the Future was written, the Left was at an interregnum. The long wave of direct action based activism, which in the United States started shortly after McCarthyism ended any hope for Communist politics, had been running on fumes through the entirety of the 00s, with some of the most inspired texts of the time acting as a basically total critique of activism as it currently existed (from nihilist communism to communization to the post-left). The frontism and isolated activism of the Bush years were unable to survive into the Obama administration, and along with every other Left in the world the American left was completely incapable of responding to the financial crisis, a failure which brought the beginnings of the newest act of the ongoing rightward shift which has afflicted world politics and which we are currently dealing with the problems of.

Occupy seems to many to be the bright point during this period, the beginning of a new, anti-capitalist politics. But if Inventing the Future is any proof, the ‘new politics’ emerged mostly in negative. Occupy, which was set up by the Adbusters milieu, had a strict opposition to hierarchies, goals, or mediation of any kind, which made it if anything more of a culmination of post-left tendencies around during the 00s than the beginning of something new. And the new socialist groups which emerged immediately after Occupy, from Jacobin to the left accelerationists, were very much formed around a critique of the politics that surrounded Occupy.

Srnicek & Williams characterize these tendencies as ‘folk politics’, a term which includes many of the left’s horizontalist, particularist, and localist aspects under one critique: that they are all products of the left’s inability to look beyond the horizon and theorize what the future should look like. To quote their “#ACCELERATE MANIFESTO“:

We believe the most important division in today’s left is between those that hold to a folk politics of localism, direct action, and relentless horizontalism, and those that outline what must become called an accelerationist politics at ease with a modernity of abstraction, complexity, globality, and technology. The former remains content with establishing small and temporary spaces of non-capitalist social relations, eschewing the real problems entailed in facing foes which are intrinsically non-local, abstract, and rooted deep in our everyday infrastructure. The failure of such politics has been built-in from the very beginning.

There is unquestionably a degree of truth in this critique. As I argued in my review of Kauffman’s Direct Action, the greatest tragedy of the repression that characterized the 90s and 00s is that it led to the Left forgetting its own history—and with that, it lost the context for the strategies and tactics it used. It, therefore, theorized its own weakness by retreating into a series of strategies which justified its own weakness: a fear of cooptation went hand in hand with remaining within one’s cultural milieu, horizontalism was substituted for larger organization building, and a fetishization of powerlessness became an excuse for lack of political ambition.

The alternative that Srnicek & Williams propose is in many ways better than what came before: the post-left era’s distaste with envisioning the future,  the narrowing of its ambitions to promoting simply the possibility of an alternative. A conversation between the primitivist post-left and left-accelerationists needs to happen. Whatever the shortcomings of both tendencies, between the absolute bound of FALC and the absolute limit of primitivism, I think the left can begin to etch out a vision of a better future.

But that ‘better future’ is only significant to us in so far as it provides a map of practices with which to implement that future. Which moves us from the policy platform to their practical program: how do they plan to implement this post-work future? Well, through think tanks, of course.

Yeah.

There are two ways of conceiving this argument, which are associated with ‘broad’ and ‘narrow’ definitions of what the authors mean by think tanks. I will address the broad definition quickly because that is relatively easy to do. The broad definition of a leftist think tank includes all leftist activities which work towards changing the ‘common sense’ of society. It would include book clubs, journals, even this blog. This definition has a certain internal consistency, and I would agree with this in an analytical context.

The issue is that if one proposes this as a novel solution to the problems of the left one is quickly confronted by the fact that intellectual projects have been a major aspect of the left since its inception. Occupy, the very object of Srnicek & Williams’ objections, was started by a call to arms from none other than that leftist thinktank, Adbusters. Which may lead to the conclusion that Srnicek & Williams merely want slightly different think tanks proposing slightly different policies more in line with their own, an argument which ignores both a large section of their practical analysis and the tone with which they present their argument. Thus while I would agree that most intellectual activity can be placed under the same banner, it would be disrespectful to Srnicek & Williams to argue that they were avidly and excitedly proposing the creation of something which clearly existed right in front of their faces.

So what is the narrow argument for think tanks? Inventing the Future presents this strategy through an analysis of the rise of neoliberalism and the think tanks and intellectual groups who slowly moved the ‘common sense’ of bureaucrats in various governments until pro-market policies were the only option imaginable within the halls of power. These groups worked over elites in all circles for decades building a ‘counter-hegemonic’ consensus and, over the course of decades, toppled the competing Keynesian consensus. Srnicek & Williams propose that we recreate this strategy in reverse, working to create counter-hegemony and to build a new common sense out of ‘non-reformist reforms’, seemingly common sense goals which are unachievable under capitalism.

This ‘operational’ aspect of Inventing the Future has been seriously under-critiqued (with some notable exceptions), usually being glossed over before turning to what one agrees or disagrees with regarding the book’s programme. Indeed, the sense one gets from many reviews is that these “think tanks” are merely set dressing, a machine that produces the actual ideas up for debate. This is why the book is such a perfect target of an organizational materialist critique because it allows us to place this text in its context and critique it holistically rather than flipping through the practice to yell at the theory.

The unsuitability of a ‘neoliberalism in reverse’ strategy, of creating socialist think tanks that slowly change the status quo, is not limited to the standpoint of future socialist transformation—such a strategy requires utterly different resources than the socialist movement currently has and is likely to have in the years to come. How is one to build a movement to support these discourses and not just come back to the same formation that led to the book’s writing?

This structure is detailed in their last chapter, titled Building Power. In it they critique the limited unity of the whole Movement of Squares era, forced by either proximity or by opposition to tyrannical regimes, and that they should replace this with a ‘populist’ unity which can connect issues of class, race, gender, and sexuality together into a singular logic. This is a perfectly fine concept, but then comes the kicker:

From the anti-globalization movements, to Syriza in Greece, Podemos in Spain, numerous Latin American movements, and Occupy across the Western world, these movements have mobilized large cross-sections of society rather than just particular class interests.

Ignoring that the Marxist in me wants to scream about just how ‘particular’ the class interests of the proletariat are, let’s speak to the way that the left-accelerationist/Jacobin tendency uses this language of left-populism.

Left populism as a discrete strategy dates to the mid-80s when Ernesto Laclau and Chantal Mouffe wrote Hegemony and Socialist Strategy. They build on Gramsci’s concept of hegemony: that an advanced capitalist state can rule through cultural consent, mediating between different factions within the ruling class and between the ruling class and the middle class. Laclau & Mouffe combined this argument with developments in linguistics to create what they refer to as left populism, post-Marxism, or radical democracy. Through this analysis, they advocate for a strategy wherein the creation of counter-hegemonic discourses—which would not be tethered to those old leftist constructs like the working class or the left-right divide—would be allowed to create a movement which mediates between different groups of the popular classes.

This analysis gained increasing popularity in the Left in the late 00s, coming into force after the Occupy movement with the parties Srnicek & Williams cite, in the Jacobin left in the United States, and in the left-accelerationist tendency that produced Inventing the Future in Britain.

Setting aside the tragic—but no less absolute—failure of Syriza, Podemos seems like a good example of this model in action. The transformation of the party from a body of ‘radical democratic’ councils to a centrally managed electoral party which was really an apparatus of a ‘neo-Leninist communications theory’ seems like the ideal move from folk politics to accelerationist politics as defined in Inventing the Future. And it was seen as such and lauded in other connected milieus as the next big thing after Syriza’s failure against the troika of European and financial interests.

The fact of the matter is that this discursive strategy has failed. Podemos lost much of their momentum after the transition to this more central and ‘normalized’ party, especially after a right-wing party—Ciudadanos—appeared using the same kind of discursive strategies. The party now seems stuck in third place, despite having unified with several other groups since the 2015 elections. Similarly, left-populist movements in the rest of Europe don’t seem to be getting the massive success despite all the old bugbears they drop, up to and including replacing the red flag with the national one and accepting right-wing arguments about migrants and the importance of the nation.

The sad conclusion of this is—even in the ideal state that Srnicek & Williams point to—this discursive strategy of building an intellectual group who has a party does not work. Hegemony is more than a series of common sense ideas, more than can be overcome with any number of memes, jokes, articles or dinner table arguments. It is supported and created by a series of institutions, most of which aren’t democratic. As is clear in the case of Ciudadanos, or more recently with “Abolish ICE”, it is an immensely easy matter for the media to co-opt and defang radical discourses. The discursive strategy proposed by Srnicek & Williams fundamentally misdiagnoses the problem and proposes a solution that is critically incapable of solving it.

Which brings us to a larger question: why was the book’s central argument in favor of an intellectual-activist axis ignored? Why was most of the fervor at Inventing the Future based on its platform rather than its program?

Let us return to the ‘broad definition’ of a think tank, which consists of any kind of intellectual activity, and consider the makeup of the left at the time. In 2013–2014 when Srnicek & Williams were writing Inventing the Future, the Anglophone left could be narrowed down to two kinds of non-party groups: more directly activist groups, and an increasingly large nexus of blogs, Tumblrs, Facebook pages, journals, newspapers, and magazines which all sought to do basically what Srnicek & Williams describe—to change the common sense, to develop a counter-hegemony through their intellectual activity. So this think tanks-as-vanguard ideal represented an agreeable organizational situation for leftist intellectuals. A world where their intellectual work was not only important but gave them leadership over the broader left is really the best endpoint for an intellectual property rentier one can imagine, so it makes sense that the critiques one could see in larger media outlets were not the organizational/strategic argument that “media outlets should be the vanguard of the left”, but what specifically that vanguard should do.

Thus, the failure of criticism that surrounds Inventing the Future implicates not just the left accelerationist/Jacobin tendency, but the whole US left, as being fine with the structure of the thing if prone to quibble over the details. But as I noted, if we accept that the medium-term goal of Inventing the Future is merely to recast the Anglophone left into an intellectual-activist axis in which the intellectuals are in charge, then we return to the precise thing that the book was written against: a magazine calling for action.

This is not to diminish their accomplishments. The tendency which Inventing the Future is a part of has played a part in the greatest expansion of the Anglophone left since the 1970s. I would not even disagree that intellectual and discursive work is going to play an important role if the Left is to continue to work towards socialism. But it cannot be the only work and it cannot be primary. Intellectual work needs to be connected to the organizations of the working class if we want to avoid cooptation and recuperation, to keep pushing forwards. The act of invention, despite the popular myth, does not stop in the garage. It involves steps of engineering, funding, testing and manufacturing, a process which includes far more than just the individual genius who discovers a new technique. Similarly, if we are to win then we cannot be satisfied with merely schematizing the future, but need to build it as well.

Memo on DSA Electoral Campaigns

DSA member Peter Moody looks over DSA’s electoral strategy and its current application, specifically in the Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez campaign, arguing that the task of making candidates accountable to the organization is far from complete. 

The Democratic Socialists of America seems poised to have two members in the next sitting of the House of Representatives- albeit elected on the Democratic Party ballot line- which would be historic for both DSA and the representation of self-described socialists in Congress generally.

This would also be notable in terms of the group’s electoral strategy, as these candidates are well-known as members of DSA, and one of the candidates in particular- Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez- has been endorsed by the national organization and received material support from it; this has also been true to varying degrees for a number of candidates for state and local office.1  This represents a shift for the organization- likely brought on in part by the ‘successful loss’ of the Bernie Sanders campaign, which helped start the ball rolling in terms of membership to get DSA to its current claimed figure of 50,000.

Previous DSA interventions in elections can probably be best described as uneven.  While it is best known on the left for promoting a strategy of ‘realigning’ the Democrats- working with trade union leaders, left liberals and progressive social movements to transform the party into a social democratic formation- its official stance has historically been one of agnosticism between explicit realignment and more tentative support for building some sort of independent political formation.  In practice, however, DSA has given at least tacit support to the Democrats and generally looked askance at electoral efforts to the party’s left- whether in the form of non-socialist radicals like the Greens, or explicitly socialist campaigns. Nevertheless, such efforts were indeed tacit: little energy or organizational resources were spent promoting Democratic candidates. Even when DSA had elected officials previously (including former Democratic member of Congress Ron Dellums), such candidates went largely unremarked, the unspoken logic behind such a stance is that socialism was saddled with too much baggage to be electorally popular outside of some minor-edge cases, and the duty of socialists was to act as the best builders of the ‘broad, progressive’ camp in order to either promote reforms or at least keep conservatives from winning office and ‘making things worse’.

In a post-Sanders political environment, however, things have changed in DSA’s estimation.  Now that some conception of socialism has entered into the wider American consciousness as a positive, the group has taken a much more proactive approach of supporting particular candidates who are DSA members. By and large, the candidates it supports are still running on the Democratic Party ballot line, but are evaluated against a document passed by DSA’s national convention last August- now the national organizations’ priority is given to supporting ‘open socialist candidates’.  Furthermore, the convention document begins to flesh out a commitment to “building a mass socialist political formation in the United States” and speaks of developing candidates (and by extension, elected officials) who are “accountable to DSA’s political agenda and who can serve as the base for increasingly assertive and widespread independent socialist electoral activity in the coming years”.

The accountability question is a vital one.  In an electoral strategy document adopted by DSA’s national political committee earlier this year, which fleshes out the principles adopted at the August convention, the desire to hold candidates running with DSA endorsement accountable to the politics and platform of the organization runs strongly throughout.  In particular, the document correctly notes some of the weaknesses of DSA’s earlier electoral efforts. Under the old method, the resources of DSA largely existed as campaign fodder, subordinate to the candidate running; once elected, said candidate possesses not only access to elected office but also the power of incumbency and but all of the resources (staff, skills, experience, a donor list) required to run a successful campaign and stay in office. On the other hand, the organization has little leverage over the candidate and little to show for the work of its volunteers.

The piece goes on to argue- again, correctly- that this model had the practical effect of subordinating the broader organization to the elected official, rather than the other way round: in order to retain association with the elected official they had to be provided with resources and loyal support, while criticism of their actions had to be either muted or silenced completely.  With such an arrangement, the elected official then had the freedom to pursue whatever agenda best suited their own political career, and DSA either needed to stop supporting said official- thereby losing the much-coveted access that they were aiming for by supporting them in the first place- or provide left cover for what may have ended up being an increasingly centrist or right-wing agenda, undermining the very politics that a socialist organization is supposedly fighting for.

Thus, from the perspective of rhetoric, DSA’s electoral strategy document represents an encouraging, if hesitant, step forward.  Unfortunately, practical proposals for how candidate accountability is to be achieved are rather thin on the ground, which leads to a de facto slide towards the previous model of jockeying for candidate access, while committing greater energy and resources.  This is compounded by DSA’s rather loose political and organizational nature, which purports to place local initiative and the free expression of members at the center of its practice. This is largely positive when it means the rank and file of the organization have the ability to self-manage their own activity, but can also mean that candidates and electoral work can still be treated in the same localist approach.

This slippage has already started in the case of DSA’s highest-profile candidate- Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez.  While she prominently featured her DSA support during her campaign for the Democratic nomination (and still calls herself a “democratic socialist” on her website), her Twitter profile was largely scrubbed of DSA content after the primary, and DSA endorsement now only exists on her website as one among a constellation of progressive and left-liberal groups also supporting her campaign – as opposed to the prominent place that one would hope for the organization of which she is a member and supposed representative (and to which- again hopefully- she is accountable).  Moreover, Ocasio-Cortez has made public statements pitching herself as a loyal Democrat, seeking to support all party nominees regardless of their actual politics.  This has led the New York City chapter of DSA to publicly criticize (if perhaps rather mildly) her position. It is positive that this unconditional Democratic Party loyalty is not going unchallenged, but is yet another sign that any process of developing candidate accountability to DSA itself has a long way to go.

A version of this article originally appeared in Issue 1228 of the Weekly Worker, the paper of the Communist Party of Great Britain.

How Empires Die

Rosa Janis argues for a theory of crisis and social decay that uses elements of Marx’s Tendency for the Rate of Profit to Fall as well as the concept of fragility. Crisis must be understood as something not simply occurring in the economy, but the entire society as a whole. Yet the question remains whether an emancipatory politics can emerge from the stagnation and decay of civilization. 

The rhetoric of civilizational decline is often associated with the radical right, as the major theorists of it, from Nietzsche to Spengler, were quite plainly reactionaries. The specific imagery that is invoked in describing civilizational decline—a once great Civilization sliding into decadence, collapsing under the weight of its moral failure, with loose references to the Roman Empire—is something that’s fundamental to the radical right to the point where many cannot think of the life cycles of empires without drawing it back to Spengler.

However, there are left-wing—in particular, Marxist—theories of civilizational decline, the obvious one being the ‘fettering thesis’ where the social relations of production are thought to be holding back the productive forces:

“At a certain stage of development, the material productive forces of society come into conflict with the existing relations of production or – this merely expresses the same thing in legal terms – with the property relations within the framework of which they have operated hitherto. From forms of development of the productive forces these relations turn into their fetters. Then begins an era of social revolution. The changes in the economic foundation lead sooner or later to the transformation of the whole immense superstructure.”

Let us turn instead towards what Henryk Grossman sees as implied by Marx’s crisis theory in Capital, Vol. 3: a theory of world-historical decline specific to capitalism. Whereas Marxist decadence theory might often be suspected as an attempt to rearticulate moralistic condemnations of degenerative culture in historical materialist terms, the law of breakdown as elaborated by Grossman is expressed purely in terms of political economy. Grossman’s theory of breakdown is based on the tendency for capitalist recovery to be less and less effective every cyclical crisis, showing a long-term tendency towards the ‘breakdown’ of social reproduction itself as it becomes increasingly impossible to extract surplus value. What I am proposing here is an alternative to Grossman’s theory and other forms of what is referred to in Marxist circles as crisis theory. It will also be proposed here that it is important to highlight the existence of Marxian theories of civilizational decline and crisis that are separate from the crude mystical understandings put forward by the radical right. In the theory that will be outlined in this article, it will primarily be a crisis of capitalism that is the trigger of this broader civilizational crisis, particularly the relationship between cheap labor and technological stagnation (something that has existed in non-capitalist societies such as the Soviet Union and ancient Rome). We will be referring to this theory as the ‘stagnation theory of crisis’ as it is primarily focused on the stagnation of production and its consequences.

Labor and The Progress of Productive Forces

In the first section of chapter 3 of Towards a New Socialism, W. Paul Cockshott and Allin F. Cottrell begin to lay out an interesting argument about labor and technological progress. They start off with speculation of the Roman Empire’s decline. It seems strange that Rome, despite possessing the key to the 18th century in the waterwheel and having a relatively advanced grasp on science for the time period, did not go into an early version of industrial capitalism. The authors explain this apparent anomaly by thinking about the class dynamics of Rome. Rome was a slave society meaning that labor was incredibly cheap, as all the owner would need to pay is the initial price for the slave and then feeding them scraps. There was no incentive for a slavery-based mode of production to use labor-saving devices such as the waterwheel since slave labor was already cheap. In this theory, if ancient Rome had not been a slave-based mode production with cheap manual labor easily available, they would be forced to advance their mode of production beyond the limits set by slavery. (pg.32)

The authors connect this observation on ancient Rome to the grievances of economic reformers in the Soviet Union. One of the criticisms made by economic reformers was that the low-level wages that were common in the Soviet Union (since the government provided basic things like housing automatically to working people) lead to labor being wasted. The Soviet Union was plagued by incredible inefficiencies of the economy. Slower technological progress compared to the West, wasted labor and constant shortages plagued the Soviet Union throughout its existence to the point where the Heterodox Trotskyist Hillel Ticktin claimed that USSR was so inefficient that it could not possibly be capitalism of any kind and that it was something wholly unique to history. For Ticktin Soviet society was defined by its inefficiencies, a “non-mode of production”. However, the authors of Towards A New Socialism offer insight into how these inefficiencies may not be completely unique to the Soviet Union.

While maintaining that Capitalist societies are more efficient modes of production than actually existing socialism or the slave-based production of Rome (since unlike those modes labor was paid for with higher wages), capitalism might still have the same fundamental problem that both those societies had, which is the continuing process of labor being devalued by the drives underlying all of these societies. Under Capitalism, there is a constant drive to pay workers less for their labor due to this being profitable in the short term and the Capitalist class is driven by profit. However, as in Rome and the USSR, this devaluing of labor has long-term consequences that the capitalists cannot perceive, as such overarching tendencies within capitalism are hard to spot in the constant struggle for profit that defines the capitalist mode of production. The long-term trend is that the devaluing of labor leads to stagnation of technological progress, which in turn becomes an issue of stagnation of the economy and the rest of society, as we have seen with the slave mode of production and what is commonly referred to as Actually Existing Socialism. The authors of towards a new socialism give an example of this process in action with IBM. IBM in the 1950s and 60s had automated the production of memory cores almost completely. In order to keep up the demand for their computers they kept on making this process even more driven by automation, yet when they were able to find factories in “the Orient” they shifted investment. While these factories were way less productive than their more automated factories, they had access to cheaper labor, making up for the inefficiency of this manual production process by being more profitable than the high-tech factories (pg 44).

This idea that capitalism still has the fundamental problem of stifling technological innovation by undermining its main incentive (i.e. reducing the amount of labor that’s needed to create things that are needed for human consumption) has merit. The authors of Towards A New Socialism proceed to argue that their ‘new’ socialism will not have this problem. This is because under their model of socialism, currency is merely a means of measuring labor time directly as it takes the form of labor vouchers. Having labor vouchers over money as we currently know it would mean that labor would be more expensive than it is under capitalism since every minute goes into the workers’ labor voucher wages rather than every 32 minutes that the worker normally gets back in wages under capitalism (which is calculated by the authors on pg 15). This increase in the price of labor would give economic planners and the workers involved with production incentive to invest in more labor-saving technologies than they would in previous modes of production.

While in Towards a New Socialism this idea of devaluing labor being a cause of stagnation is a convincing rebuttal to the usual claims thrown out by capitalists apologists about socialism lacking the incentives for innovation, there are some interesting implications that are not drawn out explicitly by the authors which ought to be explored more. Paul Cockshott, a co-author of Towards A New Socialism is a proponent of The Tendency of the Rate of Profit to Fall (TRPF) as being the main source of capitalist crisis, yet what he shows in Towards a New Socialism is a tendency within capitalism that goes directly against what is the fundamental drive behind TRPF, something  is theorized as a counter tendency to this tendency. With Paul Cockshott and its other theorists, TRPF is based on the promises of technological innovation being incorporated into the production of commodities reducing the amount of labor going into commodities and thereby reducing their value causing the profits of overall capitalist industries to fall as a result. The independent and dependent variables of crisis are switched in these two theories. In TFRP the independent variable is automation of production while the dependent variable is expensive labor while in the prototype of the theory of stagnation that is given in Towards a New Socialism the independent variable is cheap labor and the dependent variable technology. This switching of the variables, while being motivated by the same desire on the part of the capitalists for profits in the short term, and leading essentially to the same result of slowing down of economic growth have opposite processes leading different causes with the same unintended consequences. If Labor is not too expensive for the capitalists, but actually cheaper than automation, then there is no process that gives incentive for capitalists to replace the worker with automation. Cockshott and Cottrell, while simply trying to respond to the typical capitalist argument about technological innovation under socialism unintentionally undermined their own theory of crisis and laid the groundwork for a whole new theory.  

The Tendency Towards Increased Fragility

“Crisis Theory: The Decline of Capitalism As The Growth of Expensive and Fragile Complexity” from the blog Cold and Dark Stars(3), while being a short blog article, is probably one of the more interesting contributions to Crisis theory in a while. It sets to create a Marxist theory of crisis based on the growth of fragility under capitalism. The definition of Fragility that the author of the article is working with is Nassim Nicholas Taleb’s one, which is mathematically defined as harmful, exponential sensitivity to volatility. Taleb, being an expert on statistics, sees fragility in all large and complex human endeavors which leads him towards Libertarian politics. However, the author of the Cold and Dark Stars article proposes that Fragility is not something that is only created by government but by capital itself. The author provides a large amount of evidence, drawing on data coming from everything from the bloated American healthcare system to the crisis of sciences. While the author himself does not apply the categories that we are about to apply, I find it helpful to divide the kinds of fragility that he is describing into two categories. The first category is meant to describe the fragility that comes from the broader economy becoming more dependent on financial speculation and monetary liquidity, or in Marxian terms the creation of fictitious capital to hide the long-term decline in profits with short-term gains we will refer to as financialization (as it is based on the growth of the financial sector). The second category is somewhat broader in terms of its scope since it will be covering almost everything from direct production of commodities to industries like health care and education, what connects the fragility and all of these things is the expanding size of the managerial and specialist subclasses of the bourgeoisie in all of these sectors of the economy and in society as a whole.

The author provides enough evidence for the drive for short-term profits being both the underlying drive behind the growth of fragility in the entire economy and the direct cause of financialization. However, the second category of fragility that is covered in the article does not seem to be profitable either in the short term or the long term since the subclasses of managers and specialists are extremely expensive for the capitalists class. Just to give one example, in the American healthcare industry there has been a massive expansion in the number of specialists in the industry to the point where they outnumber general physicians. Yet specialists are still paid almost twice as much as general physicians even though there is a massive shortage of general physicians and the government has to pump money into the healthcare industry to keep it from collapsing (4). The same is true of Academia, which suffers from a glut of bureaucrats who are paid more than teachers that are actually needed and the government is again forced to foot the bill for all of this. Bureaucratization is not profitable even in the short term so the drive for short-term profits even though we will argue that it still remains an underlying part of the growth of all fragility in the economy. The direct cause lies in the process of acquiring cheap labor over technological innovation that happened relatively recently in history.

In the pursuit of short-term profits, the capitalist class begins to ship manufacturing jobs from the Core to the semi-periphery (to put it in world-systems theory terminology). The trade-off for this shift in investment is that in exchange for short-term profits the capitalist class has to deal with the lack of incentive for technological development and the new glut of unemployment in the core nations. The unemployment of manufacturing jobs in the core nations is a serious issue given that these manufacturing jobs were the backbone of the labor aristocracy with their high pay,  good benefits and in the United States, in particular, the promise of homeownership. The capitalist class, being short-sighted up until this point, proceeds to respond to the problem that they have created with a short-term solution that is even more problematic than the one before by pushing the majority of people who once had manufacturing jobs into service work. As a response to this shift to the service sector, the capitalist class also needs more managerial people as a result of the increase in logistics that comes from having a more global system of production set in. They cannot simply expect all proletarians to simply accept their precarious job at Walmart, so they proceed to turn the educational system into a  lottery for access into the managerial class, pressuring everyone in the lower classes to go to college as a means of escaping the hell that the capitalists have created. There is a relatively large number of people who end up being able to go through the crooked hoops of college and the capitalist class has to do something with these college kids so they push them into unproductive bureaucratic and specialist positions. These college kids are the lucky ones who get to be a part of the cruel ever-expanding Kafkaesque machinery, weighing down capital with every arbitrary bureaucratic position created.

As alluded earlier, financialization, the ever-increasing amount of fictitious capital that is pumped into the economy is the second form of fragility that is created by capital stagnation. The concept of fictitious capital is practically universal in all forms of crisis theory and it serves the same purpose in each form, which is to stave off whatever contradictions within the capitalist economy are leading to crisis with a constant stream of money that does not come from real growth in the economy (which can only come from the process of extracting surplus value from the producers). This stream of money comes in the form of stocks, debt, credit, loans and inflation. While financialization on paper seems to create economic growth, the fictitious nature of the capital that they are pumping into the economy will only hit the capitalists like a brick wall when they realize that they’ve invested so much money in the stock of companies that are not actually profitable and all the stuff that was bought with credit by average people (everything from apartments to cars) cannot be paid back because their wages are so utterly meager. These sort of situations that come from fictitious capital are why it is not only fictitious but a form of fragility, as it seeks to solve the problem of capital stagnation with another layer of complexity, trying to spin the plates of debt, credit, stock, etc. in order to make up for letting the plate of technological innovation drop to the ground. The Capitalists are trying to keep everyone distracted from their blithering failures by creating more problems for themselves in the future.

Before moving on from fragility we should address an argument made by the author of the Cold and Dark Stars essay against The TRPF theory of crisis, as it can be broadly applied to the theory being speculated in this paper or really any theory of that focuses on one variable of an event over others…

“The greatest flaw of the  “orthodox” Marxist approach is its dependence on pseudo-aristotelian arguments. The TRPF model is based in a logical relation between very specific variables, which are the costs of raw materials and machinery (constant capital), the costs of human labor (variable capital), and the value extracted from the exploitation of human labor (surplus value). This spurious precision and logicality is unwarranted, as the capitalist system is too complex and stochastic  be able to describe the behaviour of crisis as related to a couple of logical propositions. One has to take into account the existence of instabilities and shocks, as the mainstream economists do.”

This is a very weak argument, as while capitalist crisis much like any other complex process that comes under the scientific microscope, can and probably does have multiple variables. It can easily be argued that some variables are more important than others due to their directness in triggering the process that we are looking to study, and focusing more on said variables over others is not “pseudo-Aristotelian logic” but rather just a normal part of the scientific method. When we focus on technological stagnation as the main variable of our theory of crisis we are doing so not to completely discount that there could be other variables involved in the process but rather to pick out the one that is seemingly more important in the process than others and focus on that variable in relation to others.

Crisis: from the Base to the Superstructure  

Often when analyzing crisis Marxist and in particular Marxian economists have a tendency to avoid talking about the implications of crisis that lie slightly outside of their field of study. If we genuinely hope to break away from the limits that are imposed by hyper-specialization on the research program of historical materialism then we must engage in not only what is considered to be the more objective “base” of society as one would do in Marxian political-economy but also it’s more subjective “superstructure”. While it may be flawed to frame anything in Marxism in such terms, we can still use this “base-superstructure” framework to help us trace how a crisis that is purely economic can spread from the base of the economic sub-structure to the superstructure throughout the whole of society. When we start to think about crisis in this genuinely historical materialist or at the very least Hegelian manner, we begin to move away from seeing the crisis of capitalism in purely economic and political terms but as a much larger disease that spreads all across the body of our society, causing everything from the stock market to the minds of next generation to rot away. Here we will map out how crisis grows into the social sphere.

Crisis starts with growth in the fragility of institutions all across society, not just the ones that can be thought of as purely economic like businesses or the stock market, but also schools, the family and the church. Starting at the home we see an established family structure that has been created by industrial capitalism in the United States, that of the nuclear family. The nuclear family structure is highly atomized compared to previous iterations of the family as an institution within society. It is generally smaller, having one caretaker (usually still a woman) for the children (instead of the extended family helping raise the children) and another who is the breadwinner, usually still a man. (4) While the numbers for these roles have started to change we need to look at why they have changed. Why was there an increase in the number of women in the workforce? ( 5) Why are birth rates are dropping? (6) Why are people getting married at later parts of their lives than they did before? (7) Some would answer these questions by pointing to the slow rise of “left-wing identity politics”, as the values that are promoted by said identity politics undermine the stability of the family. This a slightly updated version of the answer that was given by social conservatives like Phyllis Schlafly, echoing the political wave of social conservatism that came about in the 80s. This answer may make more sense today than during the period of time in which it was originally put forward, with social justice discourse being so prevalent in the media, yet it cannot explain why “left-wing identity politics” has won in the long term given how social conservatism basically dominated the 80s political and social climate.

The explanations of the political right that put politics and culture first are completely inadequate because even while they were losing ground they had cultural and political dominance over the United States.he only real explanation for the breakdown of the nuclear family along other bastions of American conservatism can be found in the economic sphere. What made the nuclear family a viable form of social life in the United States for a relatively long period of time given capitalism’s continuous instability was ironically enough something that American conservatism has been focused on destroying,  the social democratic welfare state. The 4 million loans handed out by the Federal Housing Administration or guaranteed by the Veterans Administration from 1935 to 1951 along with flood of money that came from the post World War II economy, with strong unions, good-paying factory jobs and decent public schools creating a labor aristocracy that was the perfect combination of socially conservative, relatively privileged due to property ownership and white as Wonder Bread.(8, 9, 10). This created a postwar political consensus that valued anti-communism fused social reaction and Social Democratic economics over radicalism of any kind.  This consensus was good for the American Empire yet went against the short-term interests of the capitalist classes as they were forced to provide more for their workers through wages, benefits and government taxes. This conflict between the short-term interests of the capitalist class with the long-term interests of the American Empire would play out over the latter half of the 20th century going into the 21st.

There were two major blows against this social conservative/economically Keynesian consensus that would lead to its downfall. First was the rise of the American civil rights movement as African-Americans, along with other minority groups who had continually been shut out of American life and enjoying the wealth created by the postwar prosperity, began to demand basic political rights along with economic reform in the late 60s early 70s. This wave of rebellion by minorities led to a retreat of the social norms that had defined American life for the longest time. The second was a global recession around the same time that was defined by Stagflation, Stagflation being a term to describe high inflation existing alongside high unemployment. The Stagflation recession of the early 70s can be seen as a relatively small side effect of the Nixon administration switching from the gold standard to Fiat currency. Keynesian economics of the time could not account for Stagflation as inflation was supposed to automatically lead to a reduction in unemployment, so this was a blow against the social democratic policies of the time. This allowed for a Capitalist offensive to be waged under the banner of conservatism, as there was the base of white labor aristocrats who were deeply frightened by their declining prospects and the gains made against their authority by the civil rights movement and liberalization of social values in general. Figureheads of the American conservatism like Reagan could provide them with a soothing narrative about an evil liberal media elite slowly destroying their way of life while undermining the existence of the base of white people that the conservative movement was trying to appeal to by removing the things that helped the labor aristocracy exist in the first place such as strong yellow unions and government aid for housing.

Helping to carry out the strangling of the nuclear family, American conservatives proceeded to break their promises about government spending and the reduction of bureaucracy. They continued to expand the size of the American military, letting bureaucracy grow in the private sector to ridiculous degrees while continuing to pour money into corporations who were abandoning the American working class, earning the Reagan administration a high deficit. (11) American conservatives along with the rest of the politicians of the ruling class are fine with Keynesianism so long as it benefits the people who are lining their pockets. This is not to say that American conservatives were the only ones who became more and more dependent on the Capitalist class to give them support as they enacted policies that would slowly aid in the annihilation of their base. Democrats had found that they could avoid having to deal with competing with Republicans over the white working class if they could feed off of the last bits of energy coming out of the civil rights movement,  ignoring the economic demands of this movement as they had a vested interest in carrying out the demands of their capitalist masters. The capitalist class had been emboldened by stagflation and the recession, seeing an opportunity to devaluing labor while not being able to comprehend the long-term problems that would come with this. The overall Democratic strategy would not be viable until American conservatism proceeded to lose steam in the 90s and the last bits of social democracy were stomped out of the party by the Third way fanatics of the party. They proceeded to outmaneuver the Republican Party on issues that they traditionally were “strong on”. Crime, defunding welfare and government spending all became Democratic Party issues along with mixing the rhetoric of the civil rights movement with blatant racist dog whistles about “welfare queens”. The uncomfortable mix of wokeness and racism can be seen as sort of a transitional phase of the Democratic Party to its more modern ideology of Social Liberalism as it was still trying to win over the remnants of the labor aristocracy and petty bourgeois whites that are the core base of the Republican Party.

The nuclear family unit becomes weaker through this process of cheapening labor as their incomes drop, financial issues being one of the leading causes of divorce in the United States. (11) The time spent trying to make up for the drop in income leads parents to leave more of the important process of socializing their children to public schools which are underfunded and dominated by an ever-expanding bureaucracy. Even if the teachers want to help the children, they are incentivized to teach for a test, being less of a surrogate parent than the students might need since their parents are wrapped up in financial issues. Responsible adults that give the students the important values of compassion and kindness to their students are left in a void. If teachers, parents and other figures of authority are failing at socializing the youth then the process of socialization becomes the duty of various forms of media. The Internet in particular has become the main force behind forming how children build relationships which the whole of humanity. The Internet as a particular vector of socialization is probably one of the most damaging to society overall as it leaves children at the whims of adults who are acting completely anonymously, unable to be held accountable for their actions and allowing children with antisocial tendencies to create communities around their issues which end up being self-reinforcing. We can see social decay in the rise in the number of people diagnosed with mental illnesses in the United States (12), in particular among youth (13), with mass shootings becoming a normal spectacle in the America media. One can point to the example of the cult of personality that spontaneously formed around the recently deceased woman beating psychopathic rapper XXXTentacion. The rapper’s death was met with a wave of mourning which then turned into rioting by his young fans. (14) The youth fanbase of XXXTentacion heavily identifying with him due to his lyrics covering issues related to mental illnesses. (15)

This image of an anti-social and amoral culture can easily be dismissed as the rantings of someone who is out of touch with the culture. It can even be described as reactionary given that cries of decline are associated with the political right. However, these seemingly small and innocuous trends within our society become much more frightening when we take into account much larger developments in the political economy. When we look at the whole structure from top to bottom, we start to see that the growing sense of alienation that we feel from one another, the dread of the future that is so widespread in our culture that we have become obsessed with nostalgia, and the constant need to pop an ever-increasing amount of drugs just to get through the day, are not just irrational passing thoughts but the same kind of instincts that other animals feel before a tornado that makes them panic, primitive instincts that drive them to run from danger. We are beginning to realize that the American Empire is dying and that if the scientists who talk about climate change are right we are going to drag the whole world with us.(16)

We’re trapped in the belly of this machine and the machine is bleeding to death (17)

Insurrection and Defeat in Bavaria, 1918–19 (Part 2)

Alexander Gallus concludes his saga on the Bavarian Soviet Republic and tries to draw political lessons from its failures. 

The leader of the Bavarian November Revolution lay on the street in his own blood. As the shocked adjutants gathered around the lifeless body of Kurt Eisner, three soldiers with rifles and hand grenades ran towards them, shouting, “And now we shall pay a visit to Parliament! Time to clean up.” Appalled at this call to revenge, one of Eisner’s associates—Benno Merkle—grabbed one of the soldiers. He pointed at the corpse, crying “Look at the one you want to avenge! If he could say any last words he would say: don’t avenge me!” 1

Renouncing violence and striving for a peaceful revolution, the pacifist followers of Eisner were outdone by the reality they had gotten themselves into. Getting a hold of the nationalist assassin Count Arco von Valley, a crowd pummeled him, shooting his throat and lodging a bullet in his skull. After being brought to the hospital unconscious, at the order of Merkle, von Arco did not stabilize to stand trial for another few months, until August of 1919. With the assassination of Eisner, revolutionary calls overflowed the streets of Munich. During a meeting of Parliament that same day, Erhard Auer—the SPD rival of Eisner—was wounded and two other members of parliament shot from the revolver of a council leader. With the remaining parliamentarians escaping from the city to northern Bavaria, it was clear that the floodgates which were opened would not be closed again any time soon.

As the local poet Oskar Maria Graf described the events following Eisner’s assassination:

The bells started ringing from all church towers, the trams stopped at once, here and there a red flag was being hung out a window with a black ribbon, and a heavy, uncertain silence came down. All people walked downtown, with grimaced faces. . . suddenly a fully laden truck with red flags and machine guns drove by, and from it loudly came calls: ‘Revenge! Revenge for Eisner!’. . . The masses started streaming through the city. This was different than the 7th of November. . . The thousand little storms became one, and a single, dull, dark and uncertain eruption started.2

‘Munich’s Awakening’

By all estimates, more than 100,000 of the 600,000 inhabitants of Munich marched at the funeral procession for Eisner. All those vaguely sympathetic to revolution showed up, even those who, in due time, through the extended failure of the revolution, were to be drawn into the fascist reaction around the Thule society and bribed by the German military. Many later SA members and leaders showed their support for the revolution and attended Kurt Eisner’s funeral march alongside Russian prisoners of War. As his authoritative biographer Volker Ullrich shows, Adolf Hitler was a part of the leading procession carrying Eisner’s coffin. 3 Workers and soldiers discussed emotionally how to carry forth the revolution. As it were, however, confusion, phrase-mongering, and anarchistic idealism were on the order of the day in the councils and no effective government came about from the escalation.

Late February negotiations between SPD and USPD in the northern German city of Nürnberg, came to a conclusion, after a week of intense discussion, to form a temporary coalition that was to last a mere three weeks. Feeling safe to recommence a meeting of Parliament for the first time since the tumultuous day (February 21st) of the assassination, the congregation on March 18th voted SPD’s Johannes Hoffmann as Bavaria’s Prime Minister. Within the ruling system of “dual power”, however, this government had little substantial claim to do things as it saw fit, and set its headquarters in the northern Bavarian city of Bamberg.

The eyewitness Ernst Müller-Meiningen says of those tumultuous days, “only those who were in the middle of things back then knew that the government was without real power, that the councils had all the guns, and hence the power”. 4 As mentioned in the first article, councils, despite their harboring of radical sentiment, were tolerated as a safety valve by the bourgeois, through social-democratic politicians and their military friends manipulating and fighting for their politics within them. Indeed, many social-democrats and independent social-democrats were later successful in adding workplace councils to the constitution of Germany, lasting until today.

Many prominent members of the Independent Socialists were strongly in favor of and involved in the struggle for councils, such as Däumig and Koenen nationally or Sauber, Maenner, Hagemeister in Bavaria. This was not meaningfully discouraged by those in the party who in fact feared revolution. It could actually be argued that a naive belief in councils within the party was cleverly utilized by such figures as Haase and Kautsky, who presumably never desired them at all. The belief in councils as bringing about socialism was naive precisely because the mere propagation of and even organizational work for councils (for whose creation there was much effort expended by the Bavarian revolutionaries and Communists) did little to solve the problem of the political leadership of workers. Often, throughout the Bavarian councils, their creation did nothing to further the actual political program needed to get to a system run by workers but saw opportunist demagogues like Hitler (who was as of yet still a politically unknown and awkward figure) get elected as council leaders.

In his article “Driving the Revolution Forward”, Kautsky harshly denounced the Spartacists because of their ‘street actions’ and their calls for ‘total control to the councils’; yet, not a harsh word is dealt to those leftists of his own party, who, according to historians like Morgan and Beyer, were equally or perhaps even more dedicated to the council idea and involved in its implementation than many Communists. With mass strikes in early 1919 shutting down large swaths of the country’s train system, it was the USPD’s most radical party branches which suffered and failed to send delegates to the Berlin Party Conference of March 2 to 6. Comprising roughly 20% of the party’s membership, the USPD’s largest party branch in the town of Halle (a local stronghold of the latter communist party), sent a mere 2 out of 176 delegates. Bavaria, another radical stronghold with almost 10% of the party’s members nationally, sent a meager 4 delegates. 5 The believability to which this was just mere coincidence, without foul play or party machinations, must be left to the reader’s imagination.

At the Party Congress, it was the party left’s most well-known figure, Däumig, who was elected as party chair, next to Hugo Haase. As a reminder, it was Haase who had (although, begrudgingly) stood before the Reichstag to read the Social-Democratic Party’s statement in favor of the Kaiser’s war credits… Causing an unprecedented scandal at the Berlin Congress, Haase refused to serve as party co-chair with Däumig. Morgan states, “Däumig, never one to push himself forward, then withdrew his candidacy” 6. Largely dominated by empty compromises, the party’s meetings between the 2nd and 6th of March provided no clear plan to approach the German proletariat with, nor one for the future of the party.

The fact that perhaps as many as 50% of its members were not proportionally represented at the congress, was unfortunately not exploited by Däumig and the left, who would have had great cause to stall and explode operations to win members’ sympathy for a fight against the right and ‘moderates’, and for their programmatic aspirations towards a dictatorship of the proletariat. Alas, Däumig, who had wisely called the rebelling Spartacus League a ‘suicide club’, proved himself no grander socialist and revolutionary, failing to transcend the blinding bureaucratic morass of German social-democratic tradition inherent in the USPD. Incapable of translating the urgent needs of workers into clear party program and direction, this party which was to win over a third of the SPD’s branches, failed the people at a crucial moment, when the lives of countless socialists and workers hung in the balance in the face of a militarist repression which sought to violently destroy the popular desire for socialism.

Back in revolutionary Bavaria, Eisner’s USPD successor and delegate Ernst Toller (who had foiled an early assassination attempt on the Prime Minister), scrounged a fighter plane and WWI ace fighter pilot in a last-ditch attempt to reach the Berlin conference. Recounting what was then a novel human experience, Toller wrote:

“Under southern blue skies we start. I sit behind the pilot in a small space. Through a small square hole on the floor bombs had been thrown on human beings and houses during the war, now it serves as my window to the disappearing earth. It’s my first flight. The black forest, the green fields, the tan mountains and valleys become flat, colorful, fenced in squares from a kids toybox, bought in a store, put together from kids hands. Suddenly clouds tower over us, the earth is covered in fog, strangely pulling me to it. The desire to fall, to sink comfortably, confuses my senses. […] Suddenly the airplane swoops down, sinking, and before I can put on my safety belt the machine whizzes down vertically towards the earth and drills its nose into the field.” 7

Surviving the crash landing in rural Bavaria with mere bruises and bloody noses, Toller and his pilot stumbled through the field to take shelter at a restaurant, ominously filled with conservative peasants, before hijacking a train and returning to Munich. Returning for the all-council congress, Toller reacted harshly to his party colleague Felix Fechenbach’s speech, which warned of an impending civil war and urged them to further negotiate with the bourgeois government of Parliament. Two days later Ernst Toller was elected head of the USPD in Bavaria. Splitting the party from the national USPD, he promised in a lofty speech to abandon its prior cooperation with the SPD, to not participate in Parliament, intending instead to work towards establishing a dictatorship of the Proletariat and cooperating with the Communist Party, (KPD), which began to have a local presence with the opening of their Münchner Rote Fahne on February 28th. It, in turn, had no intention of cooperating with the soft-hearted successors of Eisner.

Eugen Leviné

At the beginning of March, the Berlin Central Committee of the KPD sent, among others, the Russian born revolutionary Eugen Leviné to Bavaria (not to be confused with the ‘idol’ of Bavarian communists, Max Levien). Upon his arrival in Munich, Levine commented in a letter to his wife that “my friends here are most childish.” Against their “naive” support for the anarchists and idealistic council leaders, he strove to tactfully educate the local KPD members. Valuing the importance of making clear to workers certain necessary goals of struggle through speeches and articles, introducing cadre building to the KPD local – and setting a strong contrast to the vague prophetic moralism of Eisner and his successor – he, not unlike many of his party comrades, neglected the importance of other matters of politics. Before being sent to take over the Münchner Rote Fahne, Leviné had tremendous success agitating for the KPD in the Rhineland at the onset of the November revolution, but was of the minority KPD delegates at its founding congress which voted to boycott working for the advancement of communist views within both parliament and the reformist trade unions

Beside the eternal debates within Munich’s councils, the SPD government of Hoffman was busily consolidating its power in northern Bavaria with the Army, reneging on its pledge to keep various USPD members on its cabinet. The independent organization of right-wing death squads, such as the Knight von Epp’s Freikorps division, meanwhile accelerated. Incidentally, one of von Epp’s local Munich recruits was the rapist Josef Meisinger, later executed Second World War criminal and “Butcher of Warsaw” as he was to be known in his employ as Commander for the Nazis. The declaration of a Soviet Republic in Hungary on March 21st of 1919, with the communist Bela Kun at its head, only accelerated the revolutionary ambitions of the mass of workers and soldiers, and also the activity of this reaction.

Communist poster from revolutionary Bavaria: ‘For 8 hour work day, higher wages and development of social laws’

With the victory of the communist-led council revolution of Hungary, revolutionary dreams became very widespread in Bavaria. Just six days before Hungary’s new declaration, the Soviet government of Ukraine sat in Kiev after the Bolshevik’s successful military offensive against the German puppet regime there. That meant that only Austria – where the tremendous level of working-class organizing in Red Vienna saw solidarity calls for a Soviet government, and massive socialist demonstrations grew larger daily – stood in the way of the Bavarian Soviets having a land connection to Soviet Russia. Lenin promised to send three million Russian soldiers to secure the European revolution.

While the Munich KPD was busily responding with an excited and optimistic communique to the Hungarian revolutionaries, Eugen Leviné was not unaware of the leviathan and consuming struggle in Russia as well as the danger of the Bavarian situation:

It seems to me that in Munich far too much importance is placed on high politics and that an excessive preoccupation with the problems of a great future results in neglecting the essential tasks of the moment, vital for establishing that future. True, we defend the principles of the Soviet system but we have yet to create the prerequisites to guarantee the establishment of that system. These prerequisites do not exist, and, while at the Bavarian Soviet Congress, Comrade [Max] Levien advocated and defended on principle the Soviet system, he will surely share my opinion that the proclamation of a Bavarian Soviet Republic under the prevailing conditions of the country, would be disastrous and would have disastrous consequences.” 8

These “prerequisites” to him were not just the consolidation of the Communist Party to win a stated majority in Soviets, but for communists to actually enhance their activity in, and themselves further the building of councils. His belief was that Communists ought to “speed up the building of revolutionary workers’ organizations[!]. . . We must create workers’ councils out of the factory committees and the vast army of the unemployed.” The indecisiveness of such vague terminology by Levine was unfortunately not restricted to mere rhetoric. It was more so the highest expression of communist politics in revolutionary Bavaria.

The reality and actual situation of “high politics” in Germany and Bavaria were, however, that overall a third of all parliamentary votes went to the SPD and another two-thirds to liberal and conservative parties, with marginal (yet not insignificant) votes for the USPD. The Munich KPD and Levine’s approach – of on the one hand attempting to criticize left illusions, while on the other encouraging it in its active delusions, ordering workers and party members in Munich to organize councils – was contradictory and, indeed, dangerous and reckless; This is simply because of the immense size and domineering strength of that camp in Germany which infamously advertised themselves making “Sausages out of Spartacists”.

Calls by the 1st Bavarian infantry regiment and worker demonstrations for a pronouncement of a Soviet Republic of Bavaria rose to a fever pitch in the first week of April. SPD delegates from nearby Augsburg, compelled by the general mood and at their members’ forceful insistence, were sent to Munich with the demand to proclaim a Soviet republic. Emerging coalition talks in Munich by representatives of the USPD, SPD, Farmers’ Union, and anarchists were all joyously unified in their desire to fulfill the goal of creating a Soviet Republic after the model of Hungary. Dreading the growing influence of the KPD, military leader Schneppenhorst, the ‘Noske of Nürnberg’, and the SPD, participated in this ‘council republic’ from above in order to manipulate proceedings, stall and buy time for their military consolidations.

Asserting that this premature “seizure of power” by the Soviets would play directly into the hands of their more nefarious enemies and drown the councils in blood, Levine unpopularly interrupted the second coalition meeting with a speech denouncing the proclamation of this ‘pretend Soviet Republic’, refusing any cooperation in the government. Spending the last of Rosa Levine’s savings on taxi fares, the KPD sent speakers throughout the city for two days, trying to warn the people of the inevitable and dangerous failure of this proposed republic. Regardless, two days later, on April 7th, the people of Munich woke up to the news that they were, as of midnight, now living in a “Dictatorship of the Proletariat”. On the same day, most large cities and provinces of the state of Bavaria proclaimed their allegiance to this new “era of the end of Capitalism” as well.

It did not take long for this sham Soviet republic to be exposed as such, and the Rote Fahne fervently expressing the Communists’ desire to build a ‘real soviet republic’. Nürnberg’s central council had voted to oppose joining the Soviet Republic, hence giving the SPD government of Hoffman a last refuge in the state, and a base to organize against the frivolous revolution. Quickly, within just two days, the central councils in city after city were being overrun and rendered useless by counter-revolutionary students and soldiers. In Munich the SPD was split in half on a vote whether to support or abstain from the ‘Revolutionary Central Council’ government it had two days earlier encouraged the creation of, at the cynical initiative of Schneppenhorst.

Nonetheless, the new Soviet government, with Toller and his isolated Bavarian Independents at the helm, went about holding erratic meetings and signing declarations. With lots of discussions and ‘little positive constructive work’ as anarchist leader Mühsam later honestly reflected, discontent and confusion widespread among workers and soldiers. Levine’s biting critiques of the sham soviet republic very well held back little in his articles. Moreso, however, his articles heated up the Bavarian situation – a situation that was politically hopeless. Perfectly aware of the Freikorps organizing, the German Army’s rustling, and the SPD’s brutal consolidation of power throughout the country with Noske’s martial law over Germany, he agitated for a day where, “soon”, the actual Soviet Republic was to come.

One of the ‘sham’ Soviet Republic’s ministers sent a message to Lenin in Moscow, describing an almost magical unity of social-democrats, independents and communists. While this was not untrue for some of the parties’ members, it ignored the fact that this utilitarian unity of circumstance had in fact not been a long fought out, sober, and principled unity en masse, but a hair-brained and dysfunctional unity achieved among an absolute minority facing dire odds. The arming of the working class, it was concluded, was to not be pursued on a systematic level. Implicitly, though not explicitly, this was the case because people like Toller were aware of their weak situation, that the German political majority of Social-Democrats and conservatives held sway in Bavaria, even if it could not show its strength openly at the moment.

The aggregate of relentless school-boy communist agitation and speechifying for a ‘real’ council republic resulted in a peculiar situation during a worker council meeting at the Mathaeser Brau beer hall; being allotted the council meeting opening speech, Levine’s words against the sham council republic and Ernst Toller were very heated. Things escalated to such an extent, that, by the end of the evening, the Communists declared the central council to be deposed, arrested Toller in the beer hall and declared yet another “revolutionary” general strike. Attempting to disarm the revolutionary guard by the next morning, the Communists are then faced with a strong will by these decried “petty-bourgeois” revolutionaries. Fist fights break out between the communist, USPD/SPD, and other workers. A warning shot is fired into the ceiling of the Mathäser by the government’s revolutionary guard. The general tumult and threats of the revolutionary guard to arrest the communists, in turn, are only pacified by the released Toller, whose futile attempts the next day to agitate against the communist general strike cannot stop the inevitable dynamics.

Meanwhile, Levine, in a private conversation with Mühsam, stated that the council republic was thoroughly stuck in the mud. As a matter of course, he said, one should not let Hoffmann take over or negotiate, but should work to get the council government out of the mud. Instead of acknowledging the utter hopelessness of the situation, communicating it emphatically to the people and entering into negotiations for the survival of the revolutionary movement, the Communists and left Independent Socialists continued to sow illusions in the working class by agitating and organizing for a better, more “communist” council system.

On the night of April 12th, Palm Sunday, the government of Hoffmann staged a Putsch against the Soviet republic. This was the instigator for a mass of outrage among workers. Mostly led by the KPD, workers took to themselves arms and ammunition. Spontaneously mixed together in action, workers from SPD, USPD and the KPD successfully disarmed a larger troop of counter-revolutionaries in a restaurant by noon of the next day. 9 After heavy fighting for the rest of the 13th, the revolutionary workers of Munich, led by the communist sailor Egelhofer, were the uncontested, and now armed, power in the capital city.

Thereafter, the revolutionaries disbanded the previously elected council leadership and formed a council’s Revolutionary Action Committee, with Levine at its head and two of its five seats handed to left Independents. Simultaneously, an advance of counter-revolutionary white troops marched towards Munich from the north, quickly cutting through scattered resistance. Ernst Toller caught word of the attack and, grabbing some comrades and supplies, headed towards the front in the nearest automobile. Reaching the suburb of Allach they encountered their men fleeing and a few isolated reds fighting back. Returning with heavy machine gun fire of their own and giving chase on horses, the red soldiers won back the main street and town of Allach. Roughly 10 kilometers and two towns had been won in two days of fighting before successfully driving back the white soldiers, beyond a creek and swamps by Dachau and the people disarming them in the town.

Declaring a six-day long strike for the workers to organize into a Red Army, the new central council, or Revolutionary Action Committee, was aware that, at this point, there was little way out except war. They had drawn blood, embarrassed the enemy (prideful German soldiers) by winning the battle of Dachau and formally organized a formidable Red Army, outnumbering all reactionary Bavarian military and paramilitary forces. Yet not even the seizure of power by the reds could change the ruling political balances in the land or the country; nor could the Soviet Republic of Bavaria convey the certainty of scientific socialism to the hearts and minds of Germans generally overnight through leaflets and propaganda, had they even had the organization or resources to carry out such campaigns. Bavaria was, in the overly-optimistic minds of a few (looking to its neighbor Austria and Red Vienna), to become the center for ‘carrying Bolshevism to Europe’. But as Levine had accurately described and predicted earlier, a truly revolutionary and communist Bavaria would be isolated. With none of its bordering states or nations continuing trade with the state, the economy would wither and its people starve.

In contrast to its two predecessors, the new government was at least able to introduce some routine under Levine’s leadership. However, this “routine” was strained to maintain a serious and confident character, given that there had been no preparations by the KPD to rule. Essential operations like telephone services were out of order after employees joined the bourgeoisie, with red soldiers wasting valuable days attempting to scrounge capable personnel, not just in idle telephone operations. At its headquarters in the former royal family’s Wittelsbach Palace, the Communist government was overrun by and felt compelled to listen to the fantastic plans of countless ‘dreamers and cranks’, in the hopes of winning administrative support and technical knowledge from the people. A task that apparently had been considered or planned for by the Communists as little as it had by the Independent Socialists.

Since March the miniscule KPD had refused cooperation with the USPD, on the grounds that that party was unsure of what it wanted and deluded by idealism. While this characterization by Levine was not inaccurate, the Communists themselves were just as deluded about the prospects of the revolution. In a speech to Berlin workers in 1917, Levine stated:

The USPD hung around our necks like a millstone. . . We must put an end to this unnatural alliance, this marriage of fishes and young lions. We cannot possibly act the part of the whip that drives the independents to the ‘left’. How can there be an alliance between a whip and a donkey which digs in its heels and declares: ‘You can go on whipping, but I won’t budge.’ If we continue to ally ourselves with the USPD we shall be the donkeys!” 10

In reality, the Communists were just as much cripplingly dragged towards the earth by the USPD’s adventurist or conciliatory millstones on their own as they would have been if they were working side by side. It is clearly more effective to challenge someone’s views within institutions that purport to have a democratic culture when standing close to them,  being able to reference commonly known principles and norms. The fact is that Levine failed to understand that while one may not be able to move a set Party anyway one wishes, one can influence its members and win influence over certain elements in a party’s leadership if that party is not yet clearly delineated for or against socialist revolution.

Long awaited, the final crackdown of the German reaction came upon Bavaria in the last week of April and the first week of May. Closing in around the capital, White Army forces, commanded by SPD military leader Noske from Berlin, committed many indiscriminate massacres with impunity. Executions of 30 Red prisoners in Starnberg on April 29th, a suburb 25 kilometers southwest of Munich, sparked outrage and tough fighting for the next few days on Munich’s western suburbs. While many of the most violent massacres were in fact perpetrated by the Freikorps groups, such as that of von Epp, it was the SPD leaders’ Army directives and ‘Execution Orders’ which provided the legal framework and policy for the ensuing slaughter. Lenin’s speech in Moscow on the 1st of May, proclaiming that the international day of Labor was being celebrated not just in Soviet Russia but also Soviet Bavaria, was not entirely up-to-date with developments.

A week-long civil and armed resistance by the Augsburg workers 60 kilometers west of Munich had been put down by the German Army on April 23rd. As a result of these experiences, White Army soldiers became increasingly frustrated at the guerrilla tactics of their enemies. In response to the grisly murders in the town of Starnberg, Munich city and Red Army commander Rudolf Egelhofer executed ten hostages from royal families and the Thule society, being held at the Luitpold Gymnasium in Munich. Used unanimously, by virtually all newspapers except the communist papers, as the only verifiable propaganda piece against the ‘bestial’ Soviet Republic, the unfortunate executions proved further fervor for the hatred of German Army soldiers against the ‘Bolshevik hordes’, leading to, among many others, 53 Russian POWs being murdered in the tiny suburb of Gräfelfing. It had been the German Army which introduced the execution of hostages and prisoners of war in the course of WW1. If anything, the Luitpold executions showed the weakness and lack of authority which the Red Army command had. For 30 Reds murdered in Starnberg by the whites (among many others), only 10 Thule Society reactionaries were executed. Hardly a punishing response.

Nevertheless, resistance against the whites was fierce, especially in Dachau, where the Red Army had proven itself capable of winning in battle. By April 30th, however, Egelhofer had reversed the ordered offensive from Dachau to take the adjacent northern German airport of Schleissheim and ordered a complete retreat to the city. More and more red officers at this point had defected, discipline within the Republic’s forces weakened by the failing course of events. Many returning soldiers from Dachau simply abandoned their post and duty due to demoralization at the ongoing political disputes between the USPD and KPD.

With the entrance of the Army into the city, pockets of armed resistance within the small area of Munich’s city’s limits lasted for three days, seeing bomber planes, artillery, flamethrowers, and conventional military and machine gun weaponry unloaded on the last fighters in the city. For weeks, public opinion was ruthless towards the ‘Spartacists’, with Army soldiers beating and killing many thousands, many victims completely unrelated to the Soviet Republic’s organization or its defense – Red soldiers, Catholics, Jews, Russians, older women, younger women, and older men, it did not matter to the German soldier. Once the rules of war were unleashed by the nation and turned inward, it proved hard to stop the killing, for another generation.

“Everywhere there were long moving rows of arrested workers, beaten bloody and bruised, with their hands in the air. To their sides, behind and in front of them, soldiers marched, yelling when a tired arm wanted to fall, rifle butting their ribs, thrusting blows with their fists on those trembling.  […] They are all my brothers, I thought contritely. […] They had all been dogs like myself, had to submit and cower their wholes lives, and now, because they wanted to bite, they are beaten to death.  […] For days, all one heard were the arrests and executions. […] The Soviet Republic had ended. The Revolution was defeated, the firing squads at work industrially…” 11

The German November and Bavarian revolutions had drawn to it large segments of the population which had been pushed to their brink physically and mentally through the experiences and consequences of the war, returning to an incredibly unequal and corrupt capitalist society. Many participants had little theoretical education on or understanding of socialism. With the dragged out failure of the revolution, its eventual bitter defeat and the physical destruction of its strongest leaders, many of its followers sought promise and leadership elsewhere. Enlisting as a Red Army soldier in April for the communist Bavarian Soviet Republic, and fighting for it, Julius Schreck became a close confidant of Adolf Hitler as well as the founding leader of the SS. Schreck went on to practice his revolutionary experience as an organizer for the Nazi’s infamous 1923 ‘Beerhall Putsch’ in Munich. 12

Red Army commander Rudolf Egelhofer’s execution

The cooption of the German worker movement’s aesthetic and socialist rhetoric for Fascism was not an invention of Hitler’s. Rather, it came from the cynical businessmen of the Thule Society and other bourgeois in the form of the DAP (German Worker’s Party) and was a clear tool used by these terrified gentlemen to reign in the mass discontent among the people. In fact, instead of joining the Thule Society inspired Freikorps groups which were mobilizing and attacking the Soviet Republic and Communists (such as Röhm, Wessel or even Strasser), the little clues left of Adolf Hitler’s activity point to an undecided man; one who participated in the revolution and who in July of 1919 was told to infiltrate the DAP for the German military who kept him employed. The rest of that story is well known.

Eugen Levine’s comment that there was too much focus on “high politics” (a reference to prolonged USPD/anarchist negotiations with the majority SPD and bourgeois representatives) was a curious comment in retrospect and one which, among other actions, shows his sectarianism and leftist deviation. The Munich Communists had a deep-seated tradition of tailing party-advertent anarchists who, as Hans Beyer says, might have been subjectively ‘real’ revolutionaries, but whose actions objectively thwarted the survival and success of the revolution. It was, in fact, the culturally dominant political trend of socialist idealism within the Munich left which was responsible for many of the aggressive and fatal delusions so deeply entrenched in the minds of the Bavarian militant minority, not the realistic “high politics” of “moderate” Independent Socialists like Felix Fechenbach.  

An unfortunate comment by Munich’s later Communist Party chief, Hans Beimler, addressed to the Nazis, that ‘We will see you again in Dachau!’, was sneeringly pounced upon and paraded by the Bavarian bourgeois press when their Heinrich, Heinrich Himmler, founded Nazi Germany’s first concentration camp in the bastion of Bavarian socialism, Dachau. In 1933, on his way to being detained to the concentration camp, Felix Fechenbach was shot by the SS for ‘attempting to escape’. Thankfully history is not static, however, and the final words at the camp were spoken from behind an assembly of Springfield and M1 Garand rifles. Yet, the real story and significance of Dachau have, as a consequence, yet to be told.

The tragic destiny of all the promising revolutionary leaders – from Levine, Egelhofer, Fechenbach to even the young Toller, but especially the thousands of nameless Republican defenders who paid the ultimate price, as well as innocent bystanders – should not be ours to embrace and elevate, but one to mourn, remember and learn from. Revolutionary adventurism and immature politics, both outside, but especially within its ranks, was not thoroughly confronted by the KPD, making the consequences of failing to circumvent and warn of the pompous and sardonic schemes of the willing and unwitting agents of capital long lasting and painful. Unlike few other places and moments in the chronology of the worker’s movement, the revolution of Bavaria displays clearly the importance of an intelligent socialist politics, and ought to be heeded as an ominous warning and lesson of history.

From Workers’ Party to Workers’ Republic

Donald Parkinson takes a look at the history of the First, Second and Third Internationals, arguing for an approach to party-building and political strategy that is informed by the positives and negatives of these experiences. 

KPD rally in 1924

This piece aims to be an engagement in wider debates occurring in the left on the question of the party and revolutionary strategy, particularly in the US. Calling for a “workers party” is hardly a unique position in US leftism. What this actually means, however, is a whole other issue, with much of the far-left attached to a strategy of lobbying the Democrats as a sufficient alternative. My aim here will be not to convince those who have failed to comprehend the obvious – that a party and participation in mass politics independent from the Democrats is needed if we want to achieve any radical political goals. In recent leftist history, it was perhaps a controversial point to argue that a new revolutionary workers party should be the goal of the left, with ideas of “horizontalism” and “changing the world without taking power” having active currency. In the diffused activist left around the time of the Occupy protests, a sort of anarchist common sense that parties and state power were inherently oppressive reigned dominant. Now it is clear to more people that to change the world one must engage in mass politics, and that to do so we must organize around a vision of change, or a program. This necessitates forming a party, an organization of people who collectively share a commitment to a program. Yet what kind of party we are fighting for is a topic of intense debate, regarding both its form as well as general strategic orientation. To develop a genuine Communist Party, we will need a positive vision of what we are working for. My aim in this piece is to help develop such a positive vision. I will begin with a historical overview of the party question, then critique modern Leninism, articulate what an alternative vision of a party and strategy may look like, consider the question of whether revolution is necessary and what it entails, and speculate on what a future workers republic that puts the working class into power (and on the path to communism) may look like.

As well as the general assumption of the necessity of a party, my arguments will rest on another general assumption, which is that we need to form a Communist Party instead of a simple Labor Party. Some may immediately insist there is no difference, and that communists are never separate from any general party of the working class. However, a party can have a working-class base and only fight for the interests of the national working class within the state as a sort of corporate group with interests that can be balanced with the needs of the whole nation. A Labor Party that merely fights for legislation within the confines of the nation to benefit the immediate position of said nation’s working class is not a party that fights for the actual long-term interests of the working class, which is to globally unite. In fact, such parties, because they are national in character, must help maintain the competitiveness of that nation-state on a global capitalist market. This means the party can only go so far even in benefitting its working-class base. It also serves to divide the working class along national lines. Following these criteria, such Labor Parties can be categorized as ‘Bourgeois Labor Parties’. They fight for the interests of labor within the confines of the bourgeois order, even if they at times come in contradiction. In the end, it is the goal of the bureaucracies of ‘Bourgeois Labor Parties’ to win the loyalty of the rank and file and smooth over these contradictions, often through appeals to nationalism and imperial projects.

Some leftist groups will argue that we must first agitate for such a party, and then form factions within it so communists can do entryism in order to transform the party into a vehicle for revolution. This approach is to be rejected out of hand. Communists should organize the kind of party that we need, which is not a bourgeois Labor Party that fights for the immediate interests of one national section of the class, but for the long-term interests of the world proletariat. This means a party organized around a program for a worldwide workers republic and the long-term goal of communism. A Communist Party cannot merely be a Labor Party with a red flag, but must directly agitate for communism and internationalism, fight against all forms of oppression, and disdain to conceal its aims. It must not merely sit at the bargaining table as a good faith representative of the class, but act as a party of opposition not beholden to loyalty towards the bourgeois rule of law and constitution. Before going any further into describing the ideal Communist Party, we shall look at the history of the First, Second and Third Internationals which represented the global communist movement at its height.

Marx speaks to the Communist League

From the Communist League to the Comintern

To begin, we shall start with Marx and Engels on the issue of the party and trace the development of Marxist thought through the Second and Third Internationals. Marx and Engels’ views on the state and politics changed and developed over time, as they did on issues such as colonialism and historiography. The topic of revolutionary organization was no exception.

Marx wasn’t the first Communist and became embedded in an already existing movement of revolutionaries that ranged from radical republican neo-Jacobins, utopian socialists, conspiratorial socialists aiming to follow the tradition of Babeuf, “True Socialists”, Chartists, and Proudhonian mutualists. The organization that became the Communist League, the League of the Just, was similar to the secretive societies in the tradition of Babeuf’s Conspiracy of Equals and politically dominated by Weitlings “true socialism”. Marx and Engels would, of course, renovate the League, infusing it with their materialist conception of history and political strategy oriented around class struggle. Yet the Communist League still retained the shell of a Communist organization rooted in a tradition that existed before Marx and Engels developed a concrete view of the party.

After the experience of the Communist League, Marx focused on his own studies before joining into another party-building venture. Marx, in an 1860 letter to the poet Ferdinand Freiligrath, described the Communist League as only a party in the “ephemeral sense” and compared it to the Blanquist Société de Saisons.1 From this, it is clear that Marx had developed a critique of the original Communist League and believed its organizational apparatus was suited for an earlier, less mature period of class struggle. A small militant minority acting in a mass uprising, the 1848 revolution, had proven to be insufficient for the needs of the proletariat. This critique of his old organization can be seen as influential to his later political career.

Marx, inspired by his involvement in the First International, would develop his own understanding of the party as a sort of mass workers association united around a minimum program of working-class independence. By this Marx did not mean that only waged workers could join the party or that the program would only benefit waged workers, rather, all members were disciplined around a program which expressed the general interests of the working class as opposed to the interests of other classes. For Marx, this entailed the abolition of the wage-system, with which would bring the emancipation of all humanity. It was not a party of the “whole people” as the bourgeois parties would proclaim, but a party of opposition rooted in the combined strength of the organized working class.

The combination of workers across countries culminated into the First International and could be seen as a general united front of different tendencies in the workers’ movement. There were public factions that openly debated their views and aimed for political victories through majoritarian democracy. Marx recognized his own tendency was not dominant, facing opposition from followers of Lasalle, Proudhon, Bakunin, and many others. Yet overall, it was no single ‘ideology’ or school of thought that dominated the International, beyond basic republican virtues. Rather, the party was united around a founding program, and its centralism was based on the party program. This was something the First International worked up to as opposed to a program that was forced on membership. It would be through democratic deliberation that unity would be found, even if Marx had no doubt his views should be implemented by the party (as does any political partisan).

This form of the party would influence the Second International after the First International collapsed over debates between the followers of Marx and Bakunin. Like the First International, the Second International was a federation of national parties with their own programs, bound to rules set at the general congress. Yet the level of centralism was low on the international level. Politically, the Second International was based on a compromise between the Lasallean “state socialists” and orthodox Marxists. The Lasallean current believed in using bourgeois elections to win funding for workers cooperatives and state workshops, endorsing a form of socialism that unlike Marxism directly embraced the capitalist state. In 1881 Karl Kautsky, set to become the leading theorist of Marxist orthodoxy, would condemn the “state socialism” of Lasalleans as “… socialism by the state and for the state. It is socialism by the government and for the government. It is thus socialism by the ruling classes and for the ruling classes.”2 For Marxism to consolidate itself in the Social-Democratic movement its adherents had to win the political struggle against other currents of socialism. This eventually became the case. 

In 1891 the largest party in the International, the German SPD, would draft the classic Erfurt Programme under the theoretical guidance of Kautsky which symbolized the achievement of Marxist domination over the party. This didn’t mean the entire International took up the ‘orthodox’ Marxist line, as dissident factions still existed. The classic instance is the example of Bernstein’s revisionists, who argued against revolution in favor of evolutionary reform to transform the capitalist state into socialism. Bernstein was also pro-colonialist, and while the Second International hardly extended beyond Eurocentrism in practice, in writing it was a majority anti-colonial party. Until 1914, Bernstein’s views represented a minority. While anarchists had been successfully removed from the party, the SPD accommodated these revisionist trends. While the Second International represented a continuity with the First International in its diversity of trends, it was relatively more consolidated politically while still retaining sharply divergent factions. The tension with the ‘revisionists’ in the Second International is illustrated by Rosa Luxemburg’s call for the expulsion of the revisionist wing in 1898. This move was unsuccessful, as Kautsky and Bebel defended their right as a minority tendency. The need for greater political unity around the program was seen as overriding these ideological differences, despite Kautsky’s intense scrutiny and critique of the revisionist wing.3

The general strategy of the Second International laid out by Kautsky in his classic Road to Power, can be summarized as a “strategy of attrition” or “revolutionary patience”. This strategy was somewhat based on arguments made to Wilhelm Liebknecht by Engels that the party should “not fritter away this daily increasing shock in vanguard skirmishes, but keep it intact until the decisive day.”4 In other words, one must build an army before going into battle. According to Kautsky, the party would grow increasingly large through success in electoral and trade union work, as well as through its “alternative culture”, which grew to include party schools, hiking clubs, cycling groups, a rowing club, socialist choirs, women’s associations, and mutual aid organizations along with a variety of party publications. Elections would show not only how much success the party had in winning over the general public but would mobilize the working class in political campaigns to develop their class awareness. The party also spearheaded the union movement, helping transform the union movement from guild-like organizations with sectoral interests into a unified trade unionist movement.5 Overall, as the crisis of capitalism developed, the ranks of the party would grow until the contradictions of capitalism would eventually lead to a moment of crisis where the party could take power and install a workers republic. The party must be careful not to rush into insurrection or provoke the class enemy into repression; the memory of Bismarck’s anti-socialist laws and how they held back class organization was not forgotten. This meant that the party should not simply fight for economic gains but also for democratic rights. These fights were seen to educate the working class in the art of politics and prepare the class to become the body able to govern society. While not all Second International parties maintained this principle, the German SPD refused to enter into electoral alliances in coalition governments with the bourgeois parties or send ministers into the executive government. The proletariat could only take power on its own terms when it had mass support and capitalism was in collapse.

Stuttgart Congress of the Second International, 1907

This general strategy still has much merit within it, yet has largely been rejected in whole by revolutionary Marxists in favor of the Third International (or Comintern) model that dismisses the Second International model as entirely reformist. There is a good reason for this – the strategy ultimately failed as the Second International parties developed nationalist tendencies. When the moment of crisis arose in WWI, the majority of parties became partisans of their own nation rather than their class. Internationalism was easy to proclaim, but when the tough moments came it wasn’t easy to live by. This, of course, led to the departure of radicals from the Second International and after the Bolshevik Revolution the creation of a Third, Communist International. Social democracy had split into reformist Social-Democrats and proper revolutionary Communists, and the Communist International, or Comintern, aimed to consolidate all revolutionary Communists in a single world party. The Comintern was an attempt to replace the decrepit Second International with a properly revolutionary Marxist organization, initially composed of veterans of the old Second International parties and minorities of newly radicalized workers, often straight out of the trenches. It was formed on the observation that global capitalism had entered a period of ‘Wars and Revolution’ where capitalism itself was in decline and the revolutionary proletariat ascendent. In a way, the initial Comintern saw itself as a “general staff” of the world proletariat, with each national section acting as a battalion that would be sent into battle in a global civil war against capitalism. Many workers joined the early Comintern parties wanting to immediately deploy to the front of this battle.6

The Comintern was founded not only on the assumption that the period of ‘wars and revolution’ demanded a shift in political strategy, but also that a radical break was needed from all aspects of the Second International. This was based on the correct observation that the politics of the Second International materialized as a right-wing distortion that led to the disaster of 1914. The Third International introduced a more centralized structure and required its parties to purge themselves of reformist influences. The idea was to make it impossible for someone like an Ebert or Schneiderman (SPD leaders who would come into government and have a hand in crushing the Communist Spartakus Uprising) to win leadership over the party. This centralized structure resembled a military chain of command, reflecting the view that parties were soon going to be engaged in armed civil war. It also reflected changes in the Bolshevik Party itself, from a more democratic mass organization to a militarized war party. For many radicalized workers and intellectuals, October had signaled the dying days of capitalism. It was the job of the workers of the world to join in and finish what the Bolsheviks had started. Purging the party was seen as a tool used to strengthen its ranks and maintain purity from the influence of reformists. This policy had appeal due to the treachery of Social-Democracy, which had once again helped the bourgeoisie spill proletarian blood in their role of the suppression of the Spartakusbund as well as its support for Kerensky’s provisional government in Russia, which had continued an offensive war in Germany. By its second congress, the Comintern had set up a non-negotiable list of 21 political conditions that its parties had to adhere to. Like any program, these 21 conditions were a way of setting the boundaries of party membership. This created political divisions with the reformist socialists over a variety of issues. Of these, imperialism was key, a wedge that separated authentic communists from social-chauvinists.

The Comintern made a deliberate effort to overcome the Eurocentrism of previous Internationals by attempting to form parties throughout the entire world. Anti-colonialism became a priority, reflected by the Baku Conference where Zinoviev called for revolutionaries in the colonial world to join the world revolution. For these reasons alone, the Third International was an improvement of the Second. Marxists moved towards a truly internationalist universalism which saw the entire world as having agency in the revolutionary process and struggled politically against internal European chauvinism. To quote Zinoviev in his debate with Martov at the Halle Conference (in response to Martov mocking Bolshevik efforts to win over third world revolutionaries at the Baku Conference), “‘the Second International was restricted to people with white skin. The Third International does not classify people according to the colour of their skin”.7 Whether or not the Comintern took the correct programmatic approach to anti-colonialism is another important discussion. Though with an increased centralization and a serious attempt to exist at an international scale, the Comintern was more of a proper “world party”. This was a vital correction of the Second International’s nationalist deviations. While they planned for the proletariat to take power in one country at a time, the Comintern properly aimed to unite the proletariat in a world revolution. What was then unclear was how protracted the struggle for a world revolution would actually be.

While the Second International made rightist deviations, the early Comintern could be said to have made “ultra-left” distortions, in some ways regressing to the Communist League’s strategy of a militant minority acting in a semi-spontaneous mass uprising. If the Second International had a “strategy of patience”, the Third was plagued with a sort of revolutionary impatience, acting on the assumption of inevitable world revolution and increased faith in the power of a militant revolutionary minority. This was partly due to a desire to break from social democracy in favor of a more insurrectionary politics, a militant working class minority that wanted to fight the class enemy as soon as possible, and a misreading of the Bolshevik Revolution as a takeover by a small party. The break from the tactics of social-democracy had the benefit of allowing for the promotion of more militant tactics like mass strikes and accounted for the possibility of violent clashes with capitalist reaction before the seizure of power. However, this also would lead to a fetishization of direct action and spontaneity. For the most extremist members like Bela Kun, the party was conceived as a “militant minority” that would push the masses into revolutionary action as mass strikes erupted, inevitably throwing the proletariat into struggle against a decaying capitalism. While the Third International had become more willing to break the straightjacket of constitutional legalism, it overestimated both the capacity of the “militant minority” to spring the working class into action by intervening in waves of mass strikes, a process that could lead to the formation of Soviets that could command political authority and be lead by the Comintern parties to communism.

This tactic had a big problem: the majority of the working class was not aligned with the Comintern and still had loyalties to the SPD. The question of leadership of the labor movement had yet to be seriously dealt with, and the hegemony of Social-Democracy was underestimated. In its first four congresses, the Comintern would increasingly come to grips with this fact and tried to develop a strategy of winning the working class over from Social-Democracy. Lenin’s Left-Wing Communism: An Infantile Disorder can be seen as a polemic against tendencies in the Comintern that aimed rush into battle without winning leadership over the labor movement, and an implicit reminder that certain tactics of the Second International were still useful. Many of the “Lefts” Lenin was arguing against, like Herman Gorter and Anton Pannekoek, claimed that the historical situation had changed and that it was now necessary to abstain from elections and break with unions in favor of factory organizations. They saw such tactics as a remnant of an earlier phase of the workers’ movement which was made obsolete and even harmful by the tactics of mass strikes, with workers councils being the key forms of proletarian organization. Some “Lefts” were in favor of a minority “vanguard party” that would guide the spontaneous struggle of the workers’ councils, while others such as Otto Rühle were against party organization entirely. However, by making these bold statements about tactics and the historical periods they belonged to, the Lefts were incapable of adapting to changing situations. Strong theoretical chops and an ability to see past the opportunism of reformists were not enough without a keen sense of politics. Organizing for revolution requires tactical flexibility: the proletariat must use every tactic possible to win. For Lenin in his rebuttal to the “Lefts”, what was important was not tactics, but the animating principle behind them. Lenin argued winning elections and leadership of the unions were not tactics inherently corrupted by the legacy of Social Democracy, but rather tactics that needed to be utilized for revolutionary rather than reformist ends. If they failed to do so, they simply ceded ground to reformists. The left tendency in the Comintern was not simply reflected in the ideas of a few idealist intellectuals lost in abstractions and separate from the class struggle, but also within the rank-and-file itself. There was a strong distrust of Social-Democrats and the union bureaucracy among the rank-and-file and for good reason. This distrust would last through to the rise of Hitler, yet the rank-and-file of both parties also showed a willingness to unite from below. However, as long as long the as the SPD held hegemony over the German labor movement, the KPD would not be able to take power except via a putsch.

Responding to relative isolation in the broader working class movement and faced with the dominance of Social-Democracy even after the war, Comintern theorists like Bela Kun devised the “theory of the offensive” where the communist “militant minority” would attempt to incite militant conflict with the state, aiming to shake reformist workers out of their Menshevik boots and spring them into militant action against the state itself alongside the communist vanguard. The aim was to as Mao put it, be the spark that lit the prairie fire, to push the working class into action thought the militant vanguard. This strategy manifested itself in the KPD’s March Action which failed miserably and simply divided the working class movement even further. The KPD’s effort to “go on the offensive” did not see the Social-Democratic workers join Communist workers against the wishes of their leaders, it instead saw KPD and SPD workers fighting each other in the streets and an unleashing of state repression when already under constant threat from right-wing militias. Based on this experience, the idea of a minority or vanguard acting decisively to push the masses into more radical action was shown to be an ineffective strategy. There was no shortcut to winning a revolutionary majority. The March Action would be an astounding failure – hundreds of Communists killed, around 6000 arrested, and 4000 convicted including key party leaders like Heinrich Brandler. Party membership was essentially halved, with hundreds of thousands of workers leaving, slimming the ranks of the party from approximately 400,000 to 180,000.8

Bela Kun, leader of the failed Hungarian Revolution and advocate of the “theory of the offensive”.

The failure of the March Action, while not clear to all Communists, was a sign that the Comintern had to develop a united strategy to win mass working-class support. The solution that the Comintern arrived at was the United Front, which was first officially suggested by the party leadership in Paul Levi and Karl Radek’s Open Letter. The united front strategy called on the unity of the entire workers’ movement (including all the unions and the Social-Democrats) in campaigns for demands of higher pay, unemployment relief, price controls, emergency expropriations, the disarming of right-wing militias and the arming of the workers, and freedom for political prisoners. The letter also called for the involved organizations to not “conceal the disagreements that divide us” and simply “limit themselves to lipservice for proposed basis for action”.9  This meant unity in campaigns for these reforms, not meaning that parties surrender the right to critique each other and lose their political independence. This letter was published in the KPD party press approximately two months before the failed March Action, and with its disaster leading to the implosion of the party, the united front now seemed to clearly represent a superior strategic approach. By the 4th Congress of the Comintern, the need for winning a working-class majority through the united front tactic was recognized officially by the Comintern’s Executive Committee (whose authority was binding on all member parties).10

The United Front policy was a call for unity of the workers’ organizations for specific struggles, with each organization maintaining its independence and the right to critique each other. The united front policy was applied by various Communist parties differently, as it was received with great skepticism by those who were unwillingly forced to adopt it. Some communists, like the PCI’s chief theorist Amadeo Bordiga, argued the united front should only be applied ‘from below’, meaning without any official agreements made with the leaders of reformist parties. This was contrasted with a united front ‘from above’, which involved making agreements and alliances on the political level rather than merely uniting across party lines in economic struggles. This desire to draw a distinction in order to avoid making deals with the leadership of reformists reflected a real expression of hostility towards uniting with the Social-Democratic parties from the party rank-and-file. Yet this tendency in the rank-and-file was not universal, as workers had already begun to unite across party affiliation on their own before the united front policy was imposed formally. Ultimately, the distinction between united fronts from below or above was less than useful; even if leadership rejected cooperation, this would simply be more evidence that Communists had the interests of the workers at heart in the concrete class struggle. Simply making deals with reformist leaders for joint action was not the same as a political coalition with a capitalist party to make easy electoral gains while sacrificing one’s politics.

It also important to distinguish the United Front from the Popular Front policy, which is not a common alliance of workers organizations, but rather an alliance with the bourgeois state to restore the constitutional order. The Popular Front policy is an explicit call for national unity with the bourgeoisie for a cause that supposedly carries more importance than the class struggle. This policy means a sacrifice of class-independence, while the United Front policy aims to allow for common action while preserving class-independence. The United Front aimed to give communists an opportunity to push for class struggle against the acceptable bounds of reformists, whereas the Popular Front was a retreat into the bounds of reformism.

An example of the United Front policy being put to the test can be found in the great railway strike in Germany in February 1922. The strike was triggered by cuts and layoffs of workers who were on the state payroll, with no opposition from the SPD despite protest from the conservative railway workers’ union. When the strike launched, the SPD ministers in government banned the strike and threatened disciplinary action. In response, the KPD backed the strikers demands and called for the leaders of the Railway Workers Union, the Trade Union Confederation, the UPSD, and the SPD to all unite in defense of the workers’ economic needs and their right to strike. While the SPD leadership denied cooperation, locally, SPD workers and Communists were able to cooperate. While the main backer of the strike was the KPD, the strike eventually reached a level of 800,000 workers and became the largest transportation strike in German history. Through their attempts to unite all workers and support the strikers, the KPD was able to come out as a more powerful party with mass support. Zinoviev even praised the actions of the KPD in the German railway strike as a “textbook example of the proper application of the United Front tactic”.11

Despite this success, the United Front policy was not flawless. One of its more questionable elements was the concept of the ‘workers government’ where the Communists would form a halfway-house to the dictatorship of the proletariat through a coalition government with the Social-Democrats. The formation of ‘workers government’ was meant to create a crisis that would eventually put power purely in the hands of the Communist Party. This was based on the assumption that the dictatorship of the proletariat could only function with single-party rule, something which grew to become Comintern orthodoxy. This concept was also another ‘shortcut’ to seizing power without winning mass support, and relied on Social-Democratic votes to boost the parties position of authority. In 1923, the attempt to put the workers government tactic into practice in Saxony ended in failure and led to an unsuccessful insurrection that would foreclose hope of revolution in Germany for the coming years. Ultimately, the hope of climbing the ladder to power with the help of a ‘workers government’ was a chimera; the party had no alternative but to win a relative working class majority and displace Social-Democratic hegemony over the labor movement. This hope for spontaneity to fill in the gaps left by a lack of actual leadership over the class movement was the source of the Comintern’s ‘ultra-left’ distortion, but could also express itself in inconsistent opportunism.

Regardless of the flawed ‘workers government’ policy, the united front was an overall effective tactic that, when utilized, saw the greatest levels of growth in the Comintern.12  One can see this as a sort of realization on the part of the Comintern that its initial hope to form parties of civil war against an imminent demise of capitalism was a flaw. Communists were not guaranteed the support of the masses due to historical necessity – they had to fight for political support from the working class. This realization stood in contradiction to the logic behind the “theory of offensive”, and would continue to clash with it throughout the history of the Comintern, with the dominance of either approach not always reducible to a certain periodization. For example, it was after the successful merger with the USPD’s left wing at the Halle Conference when the KPD went on the suicidal March Action. Inability to unite around a solid strategy meant an approach of consistency and patience wasn’t pursued.

The rest of the history of the Comintern is a sad story. In the ‘third period, from 1928-1933, the parties fully moved away from their tactics of the united front and took up ultra-sectarian positions. This manifested most infamously in Germany with the KPD’s unwillingness to form a united front with the SPD against Hitler, leading to one of history’s greatest disasters when Hitler came to power without a serious united struggle against him by the working class. This idiotic ‘ultra-leftism’ would then be matched by the equally bankrupt rightism of the Popular Front, where Comintern Parties decided to forgo the struggle for socialism in hopes that the colonial powers of the world would back them against fascism due to their “democratic” characteristics. The bourgeois powers only opposed fascism to the extent it threatened the stability of their own empires.

One could judge from this history that the Second and Third Internationals were just shitshows with little redeeming qualities, essentially evidence that the 20th Century was proof of the impossibility of communism. It would be foolish to expect the first attempts at a global Communist Party to succeed, and despite their ultimate failure, they were the organized expression of the revolutionary working class at its height, with all their flaws and heroism in full display. As communists, we have no choice but to learn from our history. Ignoring the 20th-century communist movement or simply semantically distancing ourselves from the realities don’t make them go away. While the Second International primarily made rightist political errors, the Third International primarily made ‘ultra-left’ political errors. From this observation, we can come to a sort of center, where the positives and negatives of both Internationals can be learned from. This overall position, of building a mass party around a program for revolution through patiently consolidating the organized forces of the proletariat, could be described as “Centrist Marxism” or “the Marxist Center”. While the term ‘centrism’ is often used by Trotskyists as a term of derision, we use it here in this sense of a strategy that would mean patiently building up the forces of the revolutionary proletariat into democratically organized institutions, rather than trying to build a small “vanguard” or “militant minority” that will either intervene in a spontaneous movement or spark a revolution through armed struggle. It also entails a strong commitment to both Internationalism and democracy, emphasizing Marxism as in continuity with democratic and republican principles that developed in the struggles against Aristocracy, Monarchism, and Clericalism. Flexibility in tactics must be matched with a strong commitment to principles. One could say that the center strategy is a sort of pragmatism for the means of revolution rather than reform.

Aleksandr Vesnin, Proposal for a Monument to the Third International

Beyond “Leninism”

What would it mean for a party to accept the positive and negative lessons of both the Second and Third Internationals? To begin with, it would mean disregarding either as models to copy that we can identify as carrying some invariant “red thread”. Both failed, the Second International becoming an ally of the capitalist order and the Third International leaping into the ultra-leftist madness of the Third Period, the opportunistic Popular Front and eventually its full dissolution by Stalin. Today, much of what calls itself the ‘revolutionary left’ wants to essentially revive Comintern style parties, though perhaps only on a national scale. This attempt at revival, typically referred to as Leninism or Bolshevism, was last attempted in the United States with the New Communist Movement, having little to do with the actual history of Bolshevism before the Comintern. These views and the leftovers of this wave of Leninist party forming have come to represent what is seen as mainstream Leninism in the United States. Their results give us the micro-sects we have today; World Workers Party, Party for Socialism and Liberation, Freedom Road Socialist Organization-Fight Back, as well as countless Trotskyist groups that are all of varying quality in politics. In this particular section, when I refer to Leninists I do not mean the “Leninism of Lenin” which I very much admire, but rather the “Leninist movement” of attempts to form vanguard parties in the mode of the Comintern. What differentiates this mode of Leninism from orthodox Marxism is its embrace of the single monolithic party-state as a model for the dictatorship of the proletariat, the belief in a “party of the new type” that transcends the mass party through selective elitism, centralization around a specific theoretical line, and a militaristic chain of command that is not actually ‘democratic’ or ‘centralist’ but rather bureaucratic and autocratic.

Leninists argue the key innovation of their “party of a new type” was democratic centralism. Democratic centralism, most simply defined, is the hardly disagreeable formula of democratic deliberation combined with unity in action. By this definition, democratic centralism was also practiced by the Second International. Any democratic decision making requires centralism because the will of the majority needs to be enforced against the minority. The SPD, for example, voted as a bloc in parliament and had centralism enforced in the party, it was not internally a federalist organization (like other parties in the Second International) despite the wishes of its right.13 What made the “Leninist party of a new type” different was not democratic centralism. Rather than simple centralism, Comintern parties had a form of ‘monolithism’ to use the phrase of Fernando Claudin.14  In other words, Comintern parties emphasized centralism over democracy or often just disregarded democratic norms entirely. While this wasn’t absent in the Second International, the Third was born as a sort of militarized civil war organization rather than a political party in the sense of a mass workers association as envisioned by Marx. While this may have been justified at a time when an actual global civil war against capitalism was on the table, this is not the case right now – we are not living in the same era of ‘Wars and Revolutions’ as the leaders of the Comintern were. When modern Leninists claim the secret of their parties’ road to success is ‘democratic centralism’, it tends to mean an overly bureaucratized group that puts heavy workloads on individual members to make them more ‘disciplined’, and a lack of actual democracy in favor of a more militarized party structure. Factions are forbidden, ideological centralism (rather than programmatic centralism) is imposed from above, and groups aim to build an ‘elite’ cadre that tails existing mass struggles, hoping to bank in on them to recruit members. The Comintern model is simply a recipe for failure in today’s conditions, just another guide to building yet another sect that will compete for the latest batch of recruits. How this actually works in practice is exemplified by the state of actually existing contemporary Leninism in the USA.

Take PSL, FRSO-FB and the ISO as case studies. Alongside schemes to take over union bureaucracy, these organizations essentially form front groups that hide affiliation to any kind of communist goals and aim to mobilize students around the latest liberal social justice issues and work in alliance with NGOs to throw rallies of mostly symbolic value. Through these activities, the cadre (or inner group) of the Leninist organization hopes to recruit parts of the liberal activist community in order to grow their base of support and garner more influence in these social movements. The organizations themselves proclaim democratic centralism, but in reality, there is no public debate about party positions allowed between congresses. At the congresses debate, takes place as little as possible and is usually led by an unelected central committee that composed of full-time staffer careerists. By using their “militant minority” tactics to act as the “spark that lights the prairie fire” in popular struggles, the modern Leninists (with some exceptions of course) tend to tail these struggles instead of fight for a class-conscious approach to issues of civil and democratic rights. One tactic often used is to hand out as many of their signs as possible to appear larger in number, when in reality this is often protesting street theater backed by NGOs connected to the Democrats who are simply using leftists as useful idiots for “direct actions” against the Republicans. Usually, the rationale for this activism is to raise consciousness among liberals. Theoretically, by ‘riding the wave’ of spontaneous activism, the militant minority group will build up enough influence to launch an insurrection. This is a delusional hope. It leads to chronic involvement in activism that takes up time and energy but doesn’t build working class institutions that can actually offer concrete gains for working people through collective action. One could describe this general strategy of tailing social movements as ‘movementism’.

Cartoon referencing the New Communist Movement, the last major wave of Leninism in the US.

The critique of movementism has developed in Leninist circles, specifically by Maoists around the theorist J. Moufawad-Paul. He has written that movementism is the “ideological articulation of the default form of opportunism in the capitalist centre” and a product of internalized anti-communism.15 Yet the Maoist critique of the logic of economism and defeat that fuels movementism has no real alternative to offer beyond a fantasy of “protracted people’s war” where a mass movement grows in the process of waging a violent guerrilla struggle against the state. The actually existing Maoist alternative to the politics of movementism in the US is no better, mostly consisting of politically substanceless militant posturing and sectarianism. While the Maoists may be correct in their critiques of other Leninists, their alternative seems to entail acting like insurrectionary anarchists with red flags. Nor do they move away from the model of the “militant minority”- they instead double down on it with calls to “put politics in command” and boast about their supposed “military policy”.

While modern Leninist groups obviously have no organic or meaningful connection to the Comintern, it is still the reference point to which these organizations orient. Amongst Leninist organizations, the idea of the party as a minority “vanguard” that doesn’t rely on majority support is based on a misunderstanding of the Russian Revolution. Like bourgeois scholars, this misunderstanding views the October Revolution as a coup but embrace it, believing it to be evidence that a minority party can slip its way into power by being in the right place at the right time. This perspective leaked into the Comintern, despite Lenin’s protestations in Left-Wing Communism. Instead of critical engagement with the politics elaborated in the text  Leninists choose to use it as a guidebook for justifying rank opportunism. The idea of the militant minority channeling the energy of spontaneous mass action is essentially what unites both the early Comintern and today’s ‘movementism’ as well as the Maoist critics of movementism.

It is necessary to go beyond actually existing Leninism. This doesn’t mean disputing Lenin or distancing ourselves from his legacy; he was one of the greatest Marxists and revolutionaries of all time and his works and life are marked with political brilliance. Yet today, “Leninism” almost completely distorts or disregards the early Bolshevik party and its relation to the Second International and simply focuses on repeating the Comintern experience. What we need is to move beyond an attempted systemization of the Comintern and Lenin in particular, but rather continue the systemization of Marxism as a whole based on the entire history of class struggle. This is what Lenin did. Lenin didn’t see himself as a “Leninist”, creating a new stage of Marxism, but as an orthodox Marxist applying a system of thought to his own conditions. This doesn’t mean we should reject the most vital contributions of Lenin, for example, his views on revolutionary defeatism and imperialism. What it does mean is that much of what made Lenin great was already in Marx, Engels and even Kautsky. It means, much in the same way that Marx critically learned from the failures of the Communist League in developing his theory of the party, that we must critically learn from the failures of all past Internationals, especially the Second and Third (which historically had the most impact on mass politics).

Negative lessons, as in what not to do, are the easiest to pick from our history: we know the end result and can pick out where actors had incorrect judgment. But positive lessons, as in what we should do, are harder. The common orthodoxy of “Leninism” is that there are only negative lessons to learn from the experience of the Second International, and to suggest otherwise is to commit to reformism. Yet a mass workers party with class independence run on democratic lines is still relevant, despite its basic roots in the First and Second International. The strategy of these types of parties, to patiently build up forces through union and electoral struggles, organizing proletarian communities and building a sort of alternative center of power run by the working class – eventually to seize power and become the governing class – seems to make more sense than whatever kind of hope in spontaneous insurrectionism or a general strike that the left has to offer as an alternative. We can accept this strategy while also rejecting the social-chauvinism of the German SPD. We can also accept the advances of the Third International, especially in its aim to build a truly international party resolutely opposed to imperialism and the bourgeois state, willing to use non-legal means if necessary, and closed to nationalist reformists like a Bernstein or Bernie Sanders. We also can reject the bureaucratic, semi-militarized chain of command model taken up by modern Comintern-inspired parties in favor of a robust intra-party democracy, tolerating factions without enforcing rigid ideological centralism. As the First International did, we should aim for programmatic rather than ideological unity. As the experience of the Second International showed, it was necessary to draw the line somewhere and not tolerate reactionary views having a platform in the party. The future Communist International must develop programmatic unity through collective activity as a whole, and will probably never wholly have ideological unity. However, there must be basic minimum political standards enforced. Ideally, it is in a strong, clear program that one can develop these standards of principled unity. Yet one cannot make a formal rule that will prevent falling to the monolithism of the Comintern or opportunism of the Second International – it is also a question of ideological, of political debate.

The forces of the proletariat are weak and divided, it will take a long-haul approach to develop a party that can be a vehicle of independent political action. This doesn’t rely on any kind of ‘get rich quick’ scheme, where the party uses a mass line or transitional demands to attract the working class without actually convincing and winning them over to revolutionary politics. It means actually having to develop the actual organizational strength to put the working class into command of society. One has to essentially build a ‘state within a state’ which stands in opposition to the bourgeois order and command the loyalty of proletarians in their majority against the capitalist state. We cannot hope that crisis simply accelerates the working class into such misery that it has no choice but to go on mass strikes to form workers councils and then try to insert our militant minority into the movement to guide it on its proper track. Building a real alternative to capitalist rule requires, as Lenin pointed out, a principled core that is able to stay politically consistent while utilizing every tactic possible. No space left open in civil society, where we can agitate and educate, should be left unutilized. A class-independent workers party which does not neglect this fight is a necessity.

What Kind of Party

What does it mean for a party to be a “class independent workers party”? Should the “class party” be a vanguard party or mass party? To answer these questions, we must first look at the more abstract principle of “class interests” to understand what is meant by class independence. A workers party means, in a more plainly-spoken language, a proletarian party. For Marx, the proletariat is generally all those in society “without reserves”, meaning they own no property from which to subsist, and are forced to rely on the general fund of wages paid out by the capitalist, property-owning, class. The proletariat is not simply factory workers, but the entire section of society that relies on the wage fund to survive, in many cases they are not even formally employed. The proletariat has no existing property relations of its own to maintain. It performs cooperative labor on a global scale but mediated through the anarchy of the market. The broad proletariat can only liberate itself by cooperating across all its social divisions and collectively ending their separation from the means of production. Yet the bourgeois, propertied class, has interests in the maintenance of property relations that allow them to exist as a class. By nature, these two classes ultimately struggle not only over the needs of workers or the drives of capitalists on a day to day basis, but contest modes of production themselves. Class interests, however, are not derived from the subjective consciousness of individual members of a class, but from an abstract analysis of the capitalist mode of production. Because of the impossibility of liberation through reversion to small commodity production, communism is the only option for the liberation of the proletariat (and besides, self-employment for the entire proletariat via a return to petty commodity production is not a desirable or possible historical outcome). It can be said that the proletariat as a class because it is the class compelled to fight for communism, carries with it the interests of humanity, as communism entails the liberation of humanity as a whole. Yet only those without any real stakes in the capitalist system will never collectively, as a class, fight to abolish it.

When discussing class interests, we mean not only short-term needs like better economic conditions and expanding democratic rights, but the long-term need to overthrow waged labor and establish communism. By class independence we mean that the class interests of the proletariat are independent and exclusive to the proletariat and are antagonistic with the objective interests of all other propertied classes as they exist in capitalism – hence standing opposed to all class rule itself. There is a contradiction that cannot be resolved through any scheme of ‘harmony’ between the propertied classes (the bourgeoisie, their bureaucratic elite, and landlords) and the dispossessed class (the proletariat, which grows as small proprietors are knocked out of business and specialized labor becomes de-skilled).  Class independence means organizing around a program of politics that expresses the exclusive interests of the proletariat that differ from other classes – the need to overthrow the capitalist system, which only the propertyless proletariat has no stake in. It also means not forming electoral blocs with bourgeois parties, or aiming to win support from the bourgeoisie by changing the class program to de-emphasize communism or the seizure of state power by the waged class. A class-independent party and communist party essentially mean the same thing, if we accept the greater Marxist theory about the politics of class interests. An independent class program is, therefore, one which expresses not the subjective needs of the workers at a given moment, but on the overall role of the proletariat in history according to a Marxist analysis. Of course, a program must be more than simply words, but also express the principles which animate the day to day activity of the party.

Does a party that makes concessions in its program to small property owners lose its class independence? This question raises why it’s important to differentiate between a minimum and maximum program. The minimum program should be a set of measures that if enacted, will bring the proletariat to power. This should include the creation of a commune state, the arming of the proletariat, dissolution of the police and military, nationalization of monopolies, leading to a decisive break with bourgeois state power. It is not the abolition of the bourgeoisie (and therefore all class distinctions), but of their political rule initially in a certain region (the larger the better). The proletariat and bourgeoisie are still reproduced as categories, but capitalism exists in a state of decay, the bourgeoisie primarily existing in small production and the intellectual property of bureaucrats. Because of their role in social reproduction (often as specialists or producers of vital goods), concessions will have to be made to these classes for the proletariat to hold onto power without social reproduction breaking down. Therefore, a minimum program that makes certain economic concessions to small producers such as small business owners is not necessarily incompatible with the interests of the proletariat. Such demands, however, are incompatible with the maximum program, which express the final goal of communism. The full development of a socialized sphere of social reproduction will eventually leave small property relations in the dustbin of history, but this requires the long-term transformation of both the forces and relations of production. The small property owners will not immediately be forcibly collectivized by the proletariat in the same way as the largest monopoly capitalists will be. Because small proprietors control small patchworks of the economy, such as parts of agriculture and technology, they will not be easy to collectivize immediately -cooperation with these sectors is necessary to keep society running. They should be urged to form cooperatives and integrate into the socialized sector, but eventually, they will fall out business in competition with the growing socialist sector. The proletariat can’t cede too much economic power to small proprietors without risking its own power and having to limit democratic governance. A difficult balance is needed.

The minimum program should not be a set of measures that “complete the bourgeois-democratic revolution” either, as some suggest. There is no “completion” of the bourgeois revolution where all oppressive leftovers of the pre-capitalist order are destroyed, short of the proletarian revolution that transcends the bourgeois revolution altogether, eliminating all forms of class exploitation and oppression, including those that preceded capitalism. It should be a set of measures that change the form of the state such that the proletariat, or the working-class, is now the governing class. Such a society was called a “dictatorship of the proletariat” by Marx, but perhaps a contemporary, more politically viable term could be the “workers’ republic”. In the minimum program, some aspects may be reforms achievable under capitalism, but if enacted in full it should transform the bourgeois state to a workers republic; a metamorphosis from the dictatorship of the bourgeoisie to a dictatorship of the proletariat.

A proper minimum program also avoids the pitfalls of economism, not simply focusing on economic demands of the immediate class struggle, but also demands that address the struggle for democratic rights of women and oppressed nationalities as well as the general tyrannical and anti-democratic nature of the state. This means taking up demands for sexual freedom, for freedom from censorship, for the right own firearms, and democracy in all sphere of life. To quote Lenin in 1890, “In waging only the economic struggle, the working class loses its political independence; it becomes the tail of other parties and betrays the great principle: ‘the emancipation of the working classes must be conquered by the working class themselves.’”16 The party must be a school of politics where the workers are trained not to follow orders, but to take politics into their own hands and constitute their class as one that fights for the liberation of all humanity. ‘Class independence’ should not be interpreted in a narrow economistic sense where the working class strictly fights for things that solely benefit workers. Rather, the working class should pose itself as the most militant and uncompromising force in these democratic struggles, leading them to give as much of a communist perspective as possible.

The workers’ party itself should be a prefiguration of the workers’ republic, in the sense of its internal governance. This means it should practice a form of democracy distinct from and beyond the democracy of liberalism. This means experimentation, investigating new forms of collective decision making and seeing what works. The party should be economically organized (as all parties are firms) on a cooperative basis with no salaries that allow for careerism. The Central Committee should be directly elected by the membership and recallable. Open debate and tolerance of factions, rather than the imposition of an ideological monolithism are key if the party wishes to demonstrate to the class that communism, not capitalism, is the truly free society.

The party is a workers party because it is organized in the working class districts, campaigns electorally primarily in these districts, and builds working class organizations of all kinds, such as tenants unions and mutual aid groups, in these communities. The party must present itself as a complete alternative to the existing bourgeois parties but just as serious. The majority of the proletariat does not even vote, as the blog Cold and Dark Stars pointed out, meaning that a working-class party would have to tap into the disappointments of the mass of the population with existing politics while offering a compelling alternative politics that speaks to their deeper sense of human solidarity to build a culture of class struggle. A form of “insurgent electoralism” is needed, one that aims not simply to gradually capture the pre-existing capitalist state machinery for the proletariat, but to use the election campaign as a ruthless propaganda tool against the bourgeois parties, to help delegitimize the bourgeois state, and legitimize communist politics. We won’t win simply by acting like professional politicians and pandering to the center, but by being the more dangerous vote in an election.

However, a workers party is more than just an electoral party, and if it is going to even succeed as an electoral party it needs a base to mobilize in the first place. It requires well-trained cadre and education programs for all members, and it needs to distribute these skills and knowledge amongst the membership as much as possible. By learning to run alternative unions, mutual aid societies, and election campaigns, we learn the skills needed to run society on new political grounds. The party becomes a smaller state within and without the state that grows through a course of the protracted struggle to become the hegemonic force in society and stands as an alternative center of authority to the existing bourgeois state when crisis emerges.

Becoming a “state within the state” would also mean forming what is often called an “alternative culture” by historians of the Second International-era SPD.17 This would include things ranging from party-run sports teams to free clinics to breakfast programs or hiking clubs. The point of such ‘alternative cultures’ is not just to draw in wider layers of the working class, but also to develop new forms of socialization contrary to capitalism and meet needs of workers that the capitalist state ignores. One thing that modern-day anarchists get correct is the need to create such an alternative culture within capitalism. However, largely due to self-imposed ideological limitations, anarchist subcultures do not have the working class orientation, level of centralization, institutionalization, and access to resources (as well as cultural barriers) to actually make an alternative culture that is appealing, and instead, create a mostly ‘DIY’ alternative to charities. A workers party would bring a level of professionalization and discipline to such activities, as well as incorporating them into a larger political project with democratic accountability to a mass movement, moving beyond the limits of current left ‘counterculture’.

We also should never forget the importance of the party school, which is one of the key aspects of the party. The party school should aim to not only educate its members in Marxism, but also in skills related to organization, finance, science, technology, and logistics. The party’s educational institutions work to not only raise the class’s own class-awareness in history but also their skills in fighting against capitalism and constructing an alternative order. Most importantly, party schools should not simply be transmission belts for a certain leader’s ideology, but also promote free thinking and debate. Marxism should be treated as an open system, a progressive research program in the Lakatosian sense that develops through critical inquiry. The party must, therefore, have an intellectual culture of open debate and collective deliberation, reflected in its own institutions. Though the educational institutions of the party, workers should develop a system superior at creating well-rounded individuals than bourgeois education, creating a model that demonstrates the potentials of the communist alternative.

As for the question of unions, a party should aim to win leadership of the overall union movement as much as possible. However, winning leadership is a means to an end and should strive to push the union movement towards industrial unions that break beyond the divisions of craft and skill. Forming one united union for all workers, both skilled and unskilled, should be the overall aim of the party. This is, of course, a lofty ideal to achieve, something hardly imaginable to happen until after the consolidation of a workers state. However, communists in the union movement should not simply call for more militant direct action from rank-and-file caucuses, but strive to win union elections and build relations with other unions. Rather than seeking to form a stratum within unions that is merely willing to push strike actions into more militant directions, the aim should be for the party to campaign for democratic reforms in the union and make them schools of socialism, eventually winning them to supporting socialism as a long-term goal. Simply forming caucuses for militant struggle is not enough; workers can engage in militant strikes but still hold reactionary views. Communists must take an active role in education by participating in union politics and holding strong positions against the union bureaucracy’s association with the Democratic Party, apoliticism, and general opportunism.

Communists should fight for industrial unions.

Some have argued that industrial unionism is impossible in the United States because of labor law. This relies on two assumptions – that labor law cannot be challenged by electoral action or simple mass transgression of the law. It is also possible that the existing unions in the United States, in large part, are too conservative to reform. However, the majority of US proletarians aren’t unionized, giving a large pool of potential recruits for a new union movement that escapes the straightjacket of the official unions. In a period where old institutions meet their limitations and new ones struggle to find footing in the terrain of modern capitalism, it is hard to say what exactly the general defensive organizations of the working class will look like. The need for such organizations is eternal in capitalism, and the constant dislocations caused in the working class by the brutality of market competition at some point make defensive class organization of some kind a necessity.

What the party does need to avoid in the unions is bureaucratic careerism. Union representatives of the workers’ party need to be subject to the party rather than their own career interests, which creates a phenomenon that moves the party’s politics to the right. This means the focus of work in the unions needs to be a form of base building as well as education amongst the rank-and-file rather than using opportunistic machinations to climb the ranks of the union.

League of Struggle for the Emancipation of the Working Class, a circle of intellectuals that preceded the Bolsheviks

From sects to parties to state power

How we can build such a party is no easy question. To begin to answer this seriously would require an analysis of the dynamics of the various sects of the left, and thinking of a way to transcend the dynamics of the sect system while moving toward greater programmatic unity. Many argue the best option right now is to work in the DSA; others in the Marxist Center network, and still others in the IWW. What is clear is that serious communists need to start working towards some kind of programmatic unity that could be the basis of a new party. Potentially, we could also derive lessons from the ‘united front’ tactic of the Comintern on how to unite and consolidate our forces despite the division of the left. Unity in common action can help communists overcome pointless divisions and find their broader programmatic unity.

The road to building such a party will not be simple and will require ideological and political struggles. It is important that these debates be had in good faith and publicly in the press of revolutionary organizations without either anti-intellectualism or obscurantism. Compromises on tactical questions will have to be made. Old historical struggles will have to be put to rest. Dogmatism, faith in holding the one true red thread of the communist tradition, or believing in the one correct interpretation of the “immortal science” (and thus the unlimited authority it grants), should be fought against with open debate and inquiry. Factions will have to be tolerated; people will have to tolerate losing votes without splitting in response. Clear lines of ideological demarcation will be drawn, and political tendencies will grow that reflect the diversity of the proletariat in all its forms. The general strategy of base-building can be seen as a sort of ‘bread-and-butter’ of party organizing. The general task of building institutions with a proletarian base outside the state and capable of exercising class power is key, and institutions that can exist both within and outside a political party must be created. Building power cannot be done within the bourgeois state. Rather, a workers party must build power by first building its own independent base, not merely “conquering” the base of another party. Electoral successes are not so much a source of power as much as they merely measure and consolidate existing power.

A workers party worthy of the communist name must be closely connected to the class struggle. It is not going to arise spontaneously out of the unions and other defensive organizations but will begin through the consolidation of communists who then take an active role in organizing such institutions. A communist party must not simply “intervene” in strikes after they pop off, but be an organizational expression of class power that helps increase the number of strikes and class conflict. It must aim to win leadership of the working class’ own defensive institutions democratically, not through bureaucratic machinations. The communists must demonstrate their party to be different, not only in name from the bourgeois parties but in practice, fighting as the vanguard in the class struggle, not only for economic aims but in the fight for democracy too. A historical example of what this would look like is the way CPUSA was in the vanguard of the struggle for black democratic rights. By demonstrating they are the vanguard in such fights against all forms of capitalist tyranny, the communists can win the support of the proletariat at large by giving expression to and clarifying their class interests. The communists bring to the rest of the proletariat the “good news” that collectively, they can transform the world to eliminate all exploitation and oppression. But to convince them a vision is needed, the purpose of a program is in part to help the public envision the kinds of changes the party is fighting for.

A communist party building mass support socializes humanity in a new way and prepares the class and human solidarity that will be the basis of communism. By representing a better potential world in its organizational form, it gives life to the hopes of a better world that is otherwise suppressed by capitalist society. The rise of such a party is only compatible with the capitalist order to a certain degree; eventually, capitalism will fall into crisis and the party will have enough power to launch a social revolution if it continues with a secular rate of growth (meaning long-term continuous growth over a period of time). This was assumed by SPD theoretician Karl Kautsky who saw the growth of the party’s success as inevitable due to the growth of the proletariat. But history proved to be more cunning than this at-first believable situation, as the development of the socialist movement was bifurcated into different competing currents while the labor movement itself never followed a simple secular trend of steady growth. The hopes of Kautsky and many of his early followers proved to be too ideal for the complexity of actual politics. As the party develops and consolidates its positions, it will at times lose or gain members and support while taking necessary principled stands on issues. What matters is that the party lives up to its class independence in deed and not just word and that it does not vacillate to accommodate the interests of the propertied classes in order to win support.

How could a such a party actually win state power? Could it do so peacefully through elections? Even if the party won a majority in an election and came to power on its own, if it began to actually implement a revolutionary program to throw out the old constitutional order, dissolve the military, and arm the people, in all likelihood the bourgeoisie would react to the transgression of their class power and property with a coup or armed revolt. In this case, the only option is to either defend the revolution through the armed working class or concede to the bourgeois military. It is because of this political reality that one cannot promise a “democratic road to socialism” without the eruption of violent civil conflict. The unlikelihood of radical social change happening peaceful and without civil strife, at least in the United States, is well articulated by the American revolutionary socialist Albert Parsons:

“I do not believe that capital will quietly or peaceably permit the economic emancipation of their wage-slaves. It is against all the teachings of history and human nature for men to voluntarily yield up usurped or arbitrary power. The capitalists of the world will for this reason force the workers into armed revolution. Socialists point out this fact and warn the workingmen to prepare for the inevitable.”18

In the end, we will have no choice but to “smash” the repressive apparatus of the bourgeois state, meaning in practice the dissolution of the police and military, arming the proletariat, and putting power in the hands of the working class by building a new form of representation fit for workers rule. Whether or not the party has a mandate for forming a workers republic shouldn’t be decided based solely on having a proper majority in the legislature itself. What matters is building up enough mass support and legitimacy that, when a crisis of political legitimacy most strongly expresses itself, the Communist Party represents the alternative pole of power with legitimacy from the majority of politically mobilized proletarians.

No matter how much support the Communist Party has, the transition to socialism can only happen if there is some rupture between the old ruling class and the newly-ruling proletariat which consolidates power against the collapsing regime- in other words, a revolution. In this case, revolution is simply defined as a change in which class governs the state. Such a change will require a radical rupture with previous forms of state and governance, passing political power into the hands of the masses. Since such a rupture would not likely be tolerated by the decadent classes, it is likely going to incite some form of armed struggle. It is exactly the change of power from one class to another that defines a social revolution. The hope for a rupture-less “democratic road to socialism” is merely a road to modernizing the welfare state. Unless there is a change in which class governs – in who shall rule whom – the bourgeoisie will never tolerate a transition to socialism by savvy politicians passing “evolutionary” or “non-reformist reforms” under their nose. A revolution may only be possible once the masses have been convinced that no other means are possible to solve the current crisis, and the only way towards a desirable change in society is through social revolution. The difficulty of this does nothing to negate the historical reality of bourgeois counter-revolution. The hope that a revolutionary rupture can be avoided in favor of ‘evolutionary socialism’, favorable among theorists influential in today’s DSA, is equally delusional as some immediate apocalyptic transition to communism.19

Let us look at a classic historical example. The abolition of slavery in the United States was attempted through gradual legislation when Lincoln’s Republican Party won elections on the platform of no longer expanding slave states. This prompted the slave states to form a confederacy and secede, leading to a war that began to reunite the nation but transformed into a revolutionary war to end slavery via military occupation of the south. Karl Marx was fascinated by the US Civil War for its political and strategic implications. It is likely this event influenced his views on how revolution would happen. Essentially, a revolutionary party would exhaust all means possible until either insurrection is the only way forward, or the bourgeoisie still simply launch a ‘slaveholders revolt’ and force a civil war that itself will call the existence of the bourgeois regime into question. One can look at the October Revolution similarly; the Bolsheviks and their coalition partners won a political victory in the Soviets and used it as a democratic mandate to overthrow the provisional government and form a Soviet Republic. The course of events, where the bourgeoisie went into revolt backed by imperialism via the White Army, forced the Bolsheviks to politically consolidate their regime through civil war. They did this through mobilizing the peasantry via the Red Army until 1922, finally leaving the harsh era of war communism toward the more stable New Economic Policy.

Post promoting the New Economic Policy, 1921.

It is a fool’s errand to tell the masses that a peaceful road to a workers republic, essentially a change in class governance, is something that can be promised. Even if it was possible and the government was able to enforce a minimum program without prompting civil war, it would still require mass civic mobilizations to combat sabotage by the bourgeoisie that would accompany a shake-up of property relations. Those who hope for a “democratic road to socialism” don’t desire a new revolutionary state that is backed by the masses. They treat the liberal state as a neutral site of class conflict that the proletariat can transform to its own ends over time, slowly enough to avoid a period of social conflict where a rupture in the class nature of the state will occur. This idea assumes we can sneak a revolution pass the bourgeoisie and ignores problems like capital flight that crash attempts at social-democratic reforms. This can’t simply be combated by a hope in pressure from “mass action in the streets”. And it ignores that the capitalist class will happily resort to breaking with democratic norms in face of a government that seriously threatens the rule of property if need be, even if socialists have a democratic mandate. In Chile, an attempt was made at an electoral road to socialism through the Popular Unity government that aimed to avoid a rupture with the bourgeois state and the possibility of Civil War. Instead of arming the working class and dissolving the power of the state, Allende’s government kept the military in place and hoped for their support. This led to workers being defenseless in the face of Pinochet’s counter-revolution against the Popular Unity government that installed a military dictatorship which had devastating consequences.

It would be outside the confines of this article to speculate in detail exactly how a future communist revolution will occur, what chain of historical events will lead to it, how a civil war against reaction will play out, and how such a society will transition to communism. There will no doubt be continuities with previous revolutions, but the communist revolution will also look like no revolution that ever has occurred. It should not aim to merely win a single nation to communism, but an entire continent so as to establish a “beachhead” for the greater world revolution (Latin America would be one example). While making room for the creativity of the masses, one must have plans and institutions that are dedicated to turning questions of revolutionary governance from abstract fantasies to concrete issues to be dealt with. This is ultimately the aim of the party. It must organize the proletariat more effectively than the bourgeoisie, acting as an institution that not only can form plans counter to the rule of the bourgeoisie, but has the means of enacting these plans. Yet the question remains: what is the role of the party after the social revolution?

The aim of the party, organized around a minimum program with the goal of establishing a workers republic, must use some type of political mandate to mobilize the proletariat to smash the bourgeois state and form its own. The party will play a key role in leading the initial revolution, provide necessary coordination across all factions of the proletariat and act as an alternative sovereignty that replaces the capitalist state. As the party establishes this new sovereignty its aim should be to dissolve into different factions within the representative bodies of the workers’ republic freely voted on and recallable by the entire public. The legislative and executive bodies must be merged, the government becoming a ‘working body’ of delegates. This process marks the beginning of the withering away of the state, but it does not mean that a unitary, centralized, and repressive (of the capitalist class interests) state ceases to exist. A representative system should be composed of municipal councils and a central communal council that are accountable to each other. The aim should not be decentralization towards regional autonomy, with various municipalities having their own forms of government or law, but rather coordination and centralization of all bodies around a common plan. The purpose of the party is to take a role in leading the formation of such a government and providing the leadership to give it coherence. It should not aim to establish a Marxist-Leninist-style one-party state, instead of using forms of radical democracy that it has developed in the process of building a working-class movement. This is the only possible way forward to form a workers republic truly built on the foundation of proletarian mass power and put the world on the road to communism.

 

From the Workers Republic to Communism

How the workers’ republic will transition into communism is a whole other question, one which requires both a look into earlier attempts at socialism and a dangerous willingness to speculate. We can only say this: in an early workers republic, the immediate goal will not be the nationalization of all property, even its socialization or collectivization. The primary aim of the workers’ republic will be to collectivize political power, putting it into the hands of the working class. Central to this is the transfer of actual armed power into to the hands of workers’ militias through the destruction of the old military and police. A key element of any state, despite which class is at its helm is force, and this force is controlled by those who control the arms that back it up. Lenin excellently summarizes the changes necessary in order to make this happen:

‘The people need a republic in order to educate the masses in the methods of democracy. We need not only representation along democratic lines, but the building of the entire state administration from the bottom up by the masses themselves, their effective participation in all of life’s steps, their active role in the administration. Replacement of the old organs of oppression, the police, the bureaucracy, the standing army, by a universal arming of the people, by a really universal militia, is the only way to guarantee the country a maximum of security against the restoration of the monarchy and to enable it to go forward firmly, systematically and resolutely towards socialism, not by “introducing” it from above, but by raising the vast mass of proletarians and semi-proletarians to the art of state administration, to the use of the whole state power.”20

Another goal of the new proletarian regime would be to end the existence of politics as a career. This demand is often echoed by the populist call to “get money out of politics”. However, removing money from politics doesn’t address the issue of bureaucrats creating fiefdoms of loyalty that shield their self-interests from public accountability. This phenomenon is not due to some flaw in human nature, where “power corrupts all”, but rather that bureaucrats use their specialist knowledge to hold a monopoly on decision-making and information in order to elevate themselves above others in status, thus developing interests similar to those of small proprietors. As long as bureaucrats exist due to the social division of labor, they will have these tendencies. What matters is that the workers’ republic uses democratic norms to make bureaucrats accountable (such as term limits, pay maximum, public supervision, recallability) as well as programs to simplify the political process and collectivize their skills for the masses to take hold of all aspects of political life.

The primary aim of the workers’ regime will be to essentially create and consolidate a new form of the state, rather than immediately destroy capitalism. Despotic inroads on private property will obviously be made, with the key commanding heights of the economy seized and the use of nationalization to fight economic sabotage. Workers will have to seize industries as the bourgeoisie flee, and the new workers’ state will make no constitutional sanctities for property rights. Initially, it will primarily be political transformations that occur, as economic transformations will take a longer period of time due to to the necessity of transforming forces and relations of production and to integrate the world economy. Such an approach may be called gradualist, whereas the seizure of power by the proletariat, on the other hand, makes immediate political changes. An immediate nationalization of all means of production and move to state rationing in place of markets will not actually abolish commodity production, but lead to the flourishing of black markets. Voluntaristic attempts to ban markets by fiat have a poor history, often simply being replaced by bureaucratic rationing prone to corruption. Under the initial economy of a workers republic, one can imagine a “market sector” primarily comprised of small producers, a “cooperative” sector of small producers self-socializing their property, and a “socialized” or planned sector. In fact, many of the initial steps made will not so much be direct negations of capitalism but the rationalization of state-monopolies towards greater efficiency. The existence of a market sector, no matter how small, is nonetheless a sign of the incomplete socialization of the economy; the question is not whether or not to abolish commodity production and have a planned economy, but how.

It is important to understand that nationalization is itself simply a means to socialization. Under a workers republic, a nationalized factory becomes the property of the state; it is still governed by a capitalist labor process, in many cases with technical division of labor that inherently creates a need for specialists and hierarchy in industry. While an industry can be nationalized, this does mean it has been transformed on a socialist basis or socialized. Key industries, especially those previously in the form of monopolies, can be nationalized and more quickly transformed into socialized industries that operate on a planned, worker-controlled basis, but even then this process requires a transformation of the entire division of labor that may take years (depending on the industry). Steps towards socialization, like workers self-management, should, of course, be actively pursued and implemented when possible.  As Lenin points out, nationalization is merely confiscation of property, socialization is a far more difficult task to carry out:

“Yesterday, the main task of the moment was, as determinedly as possible, to nationalise, confiscate, beat down and crush the bourgeoisie, and put down sabotage. Today, only a blind man could fail to see that we have nationalised, confiscated, beaten down and put down more than we have had time to count. The difference between socialisation and simple confiscation is that confiscation can be carried out by “determination” alone, without the ability to calculate and distribute properly, whereas socialisation cannot be brought about without this ability.”21

Simply put, the desire nationalize everything immediately after the revolution to wipe out all remnants of capitalism can only be a desire, the socialization of industry is not something that can be achieved by calling upon the inner willpower of the workers. This is because it runs against the limits of material conditions: the stability of the food supply, the provision of basic housing, reliance on skilled forms of specialized labor, and as Lenin points out, the ability to “calculate and distribute”. Many initial nationalizations may seize property to turn it into a munitions factory for the needs of civil war. Others may be to replace archaic and environmentally destructive forms of industry. It would be a mistake to nationalize all industries immediately and aim to set everything on an immediate course to socialization, especially since small proprietors will resist by turning to black markets and refuse integration into planned socialist production en masse. Small proprietors will either have to integrate into the planned sector of the economy, or eventually go out of business when faced with competition from the socialist sector.

The form of the state under a workers republic is the dictatorship of the proletariat, just as the form of the state in any bourgeois republic is, in the end, a dictatorship of the bourgeoisie. The phrase ‘dictatorship of the proletariat’ implies the existence of the proletariat, which itself implies the existence of capital. Hence, it would be wrong to say that the dictatorship of the proletariat moves beyond capitalism as a mode of production. Rather, the proletariat becomes the most powerful class within capitalism: capitalism is in decay. In the dictatorship of the proletariat, the proletariat has won the class struggle to become the leading class in society, having defeated the bourgeois state. Yet the class struggle continues on new grounds, now primarily against the petty-bourgeois and bureaucracy, which within them each carry class interests to restore various forms of class society. The proletariat must fight against these elements, not through violent campaigns of expulsion, but by transforming the economic base of society, transcending capitalism and class society itself. A key part of this is breaking down the mental/manual division of labor that at the core of bureaucracy and collectivizing skills held by specialists through mass campaigns combining education and labor. Because the proletariat holds state power it can use the power of centralized administration to take on such a task. The class struggle takes on a different form, becoming more directly about the transformation of social relations between humans.

One suggestion is that the transition will occur through the progressive reduction of labor time through the application of planning rather than primarily through nationalization of the entire economy and the enforcement of a rationing system. For some production, if there is not sufficient abundance, abolishing the commodity form in favor rationing may simply create black markets. Obviously, nationalization and the reduction of work hours aren’t mutually exclusive. It is important to note that in transitioning to communism, the focus should be on the process of transforming labor and other productive forces, reducing work hours, and collectivizing skills, rather than the percentage of the economy that has been confiscated by the state. Nationalization should be seen as a means towards achieving these goals, but not an end in itself. As we put the development of productive forces under new social relations via socialized scientific planning, new forces of production will be developed, which in turn develops our freedom beyond the limits of necessity and the ability to transform our environment. The two categories of social relations of production and forces of production can develop in a mutually reinforcing relationship. Developing communism is not a matter of privileging productive forces over relations of production or vice versa, but transforming both in a mutually reinforcing relationship.

In line with Marx, it makes sense to distinguish between a lower and higher phase of communism. The higher phase of communism implies a society where not only production is fully socialized, but distribution, meaning that has free access to goods without a form of money or rationing by the state mediating between humanity and the means of production. This is distinguished from the lower phase of communism, where socialized production is still on the basis of use but goods are distributed to the laborer according to their contribution of labor time (with some form of social insurance provided for those not able to work). The end of production based on exchange-value in favor of the direct production of use-values is a basic property of both the lower and higher phases of communism. Communism entails an end to buying and selling. This is what is meant by saying it is necessary to abolish the value-form. This is well summarized in the ABC’s of Communism by Bukharin and Preobrazhensky:

“The communist method of production presupposes in addition that production is not for the market, but for use. Under communism, it is no longer the individual manufacturer or the individual peasant who produces; the work of production is effected by the gigantic cooperative as a whole. In consequence of this change, we no longer have commodities, but only products. These products are not exchanged one for another; they are neither bought nor sold. They are simply stored in the communal warehouses, and are subsequently delivered to those who need them. In such conditions, money will no longer be required. ‘How can that be?’ some of you will ask. ‘In that case one person will get too much and another too little. What sense is there in such a method of distribution?’ The answer is as follows. At first, doubtless, and perhaps for twenty or thirty years, it will be necessary to have various regulations. Maybe certain products will only be supplied to those persons who have a special entry in their work-book or on their work-card. Subsequently, when communist society has been consolidated and fully developed, no such regulations will be needed. There will be an ample quantity of all products, our present wounds will long since have been healed, and everyone will be able to get just as much as he needs. ‘But will not people find it to their interest to take more than they need?’ Certainly not. Today, for example, no one thinks it worth while when he wants one seat in a tram, to take three tickets and keep two places empty. It will be just the same in the case of all products. A person will take from the communal storehouse precisely as much as he needs, no more. No one will have any interest in taking more than he wants in order to sell the surplus to others, since all these others can satisfy their needs whenever they please. Money will then have no value. Our meaning is that at the outset, in the first days of communist society, products will probably be distributed in accordance with the amount of work done by the applicant; at a later stage, however, they will simply be supplied according to the needs of the comrades.”

To achieve such a task society will need to greatly develop its productive capacities and rationalize its social organization. Abolition of the value-form does not occur through fiat, repressing it through a “communist dictatorship against value”. The aim is instead to change the relations and forces of production to put society on a developmental path toward such an end. It is necessary to not merely negate the value-form and suppress the existence of commodity production in favor of bureaucratic rationing but to transcend the value-form by producing new social relations that allow for a non-alienating and non-exploitative form of social reproduction.

It should also be clear that communism is not a possibility on the national scale, because it requires the full cooperation of the world division of labor. A dictatorship of the proletariat’s ability to transcend itself and wither away as a state is reliant on the success of world revolution; as long as the world is capitalist, revolutionaries will have to make economic compromises with capitalism. What matters initially is that politically, power is in the hands of the proletariat. From there, the proletariat begins to take steps to socialism in line with what is materially possible, initially creating an embryonic socialized sector by seizing key industries and planning them, as well as putting them under workers control, and gradually increasing the amount of social product that is freely available to all despite the time spent laboring on said product. As production becomes planned scientifically according to human need, distribution can increasingly be done on a free, communal basis, what exists of the remaining market sector of small producers will fade away. One can think of Preobrazhensky’s notion of the law of planning and the law of value, where the law of planning grows with the socialization of industry to displace regulations of goods by the law of value.22The process should be done with care, at a pace that prevents major disruptions of social equilibrium. Merging labor with education to produce a surplus of skilled laborers is necessary so that specialists cannot use their knowledge as monopolies to benefit from. It will rather be collectively used to contribute to the general intellect of society.  

The new socialist society that develops out of the workers’ republic transitioning into communism will be a unique creation evolving from the shell provided by the old capitalist society, a creation of the proletariat taking production and science into its own hands. As more goods become socialized in distribution, the mental/manual division of labor eroded, and the necessary labor hours for all greatly reduced, people will have more free time, not only for leisure but to improve oneself and engage in the kind on non-alienated human flourishing that Marx claimed would become generalized. Such a society free of a repressive state will be a “free association of producers” where all of humanity forms a common, unified community.  Yet to get there, one must travail the class struggle, which is ultimately a political struggle: a struggle for power.

Dispatch on Brazil

Amelia Davenport interviews Hugo Souza, a militant in the Brazilian left, on organizing, the right-wing Bolsonaro’s campaign that is taking aim at state power with a reactionary neo-liberal agenda, and advice for leftists in the USA.

A messiah for the right?

AD: So to start, can you introduce yourself?

HS: My name is Hugo Souza, I’m a leftist from Brazil who belonged to an anarchist collective for a couple years and self-identified as a Marxist-Leninist for a decade before that.

AD: What anarchist collective were you involved with?

HS: Coletivo Mineiro Popular Anarquista, Compa, a branch of CAB (Coordenação Anarquista Brasileira – Brazilian Anarchist Coordination) which organizes in the especifista/platformist group Anarkismo.

AD: So what sort of organizing work did you do with them?

HS: I was a member of 3 movements. The first was MPL, or Movimento Passe Livre which was an organization that sought to fight mercantilization of public transport and promotes a self-managed, horizontal, cooperatively run model of public transportation. It was federated itself nationally and the Sao Paulo branch started the June 2013 protests.

I was also a member of MOB, Movimento de Organização de Base, which is a community organizing group also nationally federated that promotes community organizing. They mostly deal with illegal settlements, which are the initial stages of slums but not exclusively.

Last, I was a member of the Committee for Solidarity with the Popular Kurdish Resistance, which sought to bring awareness to the Kurdish cause.

In these three movements I took organizing roles, such as helping set up meetings, protests and such, took media roles, such as creating websites, facebook pages and publicity pieces in general, helped shape, reshape, found and design multiple organizations and also had a diplomatic role inside CAB and with regard to other organizations in Brazil as well.

AD: Shifting gears a bit, what do you make of the general state of politics in Brazil?

HS: Worrisome. We are going to have a fascist elected in a couple weeks.

AD: Brazil had previously been considered a part of the ‘Pink Tide’. What do you think changed to shift the electorate so far to the right?

HS: A combination of multiple factors. I believe the main one is a perception of an economic and moral crisis that was hammered by the media and the judicial caste, which portrayed the Worker’s Party (PT) as responsible for everything wrong in people’s lives. The media bombarded the public with negative information about the Worker’s Party. This fostered a sentiment known as ‘anti-petismo’ here. Neoliberal authors claim PT mismanaged the economy and public companies like the oil giant Petrobras. Petrobras is a matter of pride in Brazil since a nationalist campaign in mid 20th century called ‘the oil is ours’ made the issue crystalized in the public’s’ mind. PT was accused of robbing the government, trying to ‘Mexicanize’ (institute a PRI like dominance) Brazilian politics and hire their cronies to positions within the state.

People, in general, are afraid of Brazil becoming a new Venezuela, even though that is decidedly not the Worker’s Party intent, and there are also conspiracy theories about a sort of tropical Soviet Union known as ‘ursal’ which are widespread.

The scenario shifted gradually from pro-PT views to anti-PT, with the help of groups trained and funded by Steve Bannon and the Koch Brothers, decidedly through Whatsapp fake news posting. They created a sense of impending doom and presented a messiah to solve all the country’s issues: Jair Messias Bolsonaro. There is a history of messianic beliefs in Brazil dating back to the Portuguese Empire when a Portuguese king disappeared fighting the Moors and Portugal ended up being ruled by Spain. In the resulting power struggle, the Portuguese establishment tried to fight it by creating a “king in the mountain” lore. It is a phenomenon culturally relevant to the entire Lusophone world, known as Sebastianism. Sebastianism had a clear manifestation in a monarchist insurgency of poorer people in the 19th century against the newly established republic. In the 19th Century, they thought the lost king would return to save Brazil. The first choice for vice president for Bolsonaro was the ‘heir Prince of the Brazilian monarchy’, but he declined. Brazilians have a weird combination of an anti-authoritarian outlook in life with an acceptance of an authoritarian delegation of a carte blanche for politicians to do as they please as long as there are results.

AD: So you’re saying that a big factor here is a political belief in a Messiah figure. Did Lula play a similar role in the past?

HS: Yeah. The judicial caste sought to punish the Worker’s Party disproportionately, even arresting Lula without non-circumstantial evidence, and tarnished Lula’s image gradually. Lula still has such an image in the northeast of the country, but I believe in most of the country he is more rejected than supported, which does not mean he has little support nationally.

AD: What sort of response is PT mounting to Bolsonaro?

HS: Ciro Gomes was polling ahead of Bolsonaro. The PT response was to delay their candidacy as much as possible to 1 month before the election by making a bogus ballot with Lula as president, considering there is a constitutional amendment saying people with convictions are ineligible for 8 years I think, passed by PT itself, and spreading the word people should vote on whomever Lula decided.

Best case scenario they were relying on vote transfers to happen fast and there would be no time for a counter campaign, worst case scenario and my actual opinion is that they knew they could not win and were only competing with the Ciro Gomes campaign for a spot in the second bout of elections so they could lead the opposition and not lose hegemony as their right-winged rival PSDB did.

They sabotaged Ciro Gomes campaign by alienating parties from his campaign and fighting internal PT members who considered the thought of allying with him in the elections. We estimate PT controlled unions will become more radicalized again once they have to fight for their lives, but only to a certain point. PT has a good number of congressmen overall, enough to be a nuisance to a Bolsonaro presidency.

AD: If PT does not have an interest in socialism, either of the Bolivarian model or the old Soviet one, why are the Brazilian media and political establishment so hell-bent on their destruction?

HS: PT is currently dominated by Lula’s current which is similar to British New Labour in outlook, but there are more radical elements with no expression within the Worker’s Party. They also have a history of radical rhetoric so the establishment can frame it that way. And the Brazilian establishment does not wish to cede an inch of privilege.

They are literally bothered by poor people on airplanes.

AD: So the issue is not preserving capitalism but rather the position of established old money?

HS: No. PT has support from some of the oldest money there is. Agrarian elite, banks, international manufacturers…the Brazilian middle class does not wish to share places with people who were poorer before. Brazil before Lula had the worst GINI coefficient in the world, Lula changed it with very little effort, they invested more in photocopies than in social programmes and people thought they were bankrupting the country with welfare programmes. People were bothered with the ascension of the dirt poor to a less poor status… Literally bothered they were able to go to university and buy airline tickets.

AD: So it’s a reaction of the middle classes then? Would that be small and medium business owners or professionals in Brazil?

HS: Liberal professionals, medium business owners, a varied class. But small businesses are mostly proletarianized.

AD: Why do you think that the Haute Bourgeoisie backs PT despite their anti-elite rhetoric, and the liberal professionals back Bolsonaro despite his rhetoric against the “establishment” they seem to make up?

HS: The haute is divided. Some of it made more money than ever during PT, and is resilient about Bolsonaro, other parts of it embraced full-blown fascism because they can make more money. The middle classes think this crisis is PT’s fault. This section thinks it can make more.

AD: Interesting. What sort of response has the left given so far?

HS: They are making meetings all over the country, broad left meetings, to discuss strategy and support the Haddad campaign in neighborhoods. But I believe it will not be enough.

The Brazilian left abandoned a long time ago base work, and Pentecostals started doing it. The main Pentecostal leader in Brazil supports Bolsonaro and has put the weight of his church behind him

AD: Oftentimes the rise of fascism is accompanied by street violence. Has that happened much in Brazil?

HS: Yes.

AD: Is it organized or mostly “lone wolf attacks”

HS: There are hundreds of reported cases of LGBTQ+, women, black people and merely people with the #elenão hashtag on their bodies being attacked by Bolsonaro supporters. 3 Bolsonaro supporters carved a swastika on a woman with an #elenão bottom’s belly and the police claimed it was a Buddhist symbol. A woman was spray painting the hashtag #elenão near her place and got arrested, the police immobilized her violently took her to the station cuffed her from behind stripped her naked and told she’d only get out if she apologized and said ‘Ele Sim’ (slogan of Bolsonaro campaign). So there are lone wolf attacks, far right groups doing it and sometimes the police do it or cover it up, like in the Marielle case of which we suspect a police hit squad did it for 50k USD.

Master Moa do Katende, capoeira master, was stabbed 12 times in a bar after declaring he was not going to vote for Bolsonaro.

AD: So the police are firmly in Bolsonaro’s camp. What about the Gendarmes?

HS: We refer to the gendarmes as police here. The entire police military establishment is in Bolsonaro’s camp and he has connections to cop mafias in Rio known as milicias (militias).

AD: Does the left have any armed street presence?

HS: None. Gun control is really restrictive here.

AD: What about unarmed street defense?

HS: Leftist Brazilians are mostly hippies. Unions and some social movements have security though.

AD: There are some groups that have talked about base building on the Brazilian left like the Brigadas Populares. Have they been successful? If not, why so in your view?

HS: They have been successful with their proposal that was dealing with illegal settlements, but this right winged wave swore to sweep settlements down.

AD: Illegal Settlements?

HS: Yes. Proto-slums. Bunch of people invade a property and build houses. We call them occupations

AD: How did the Brigades relate to them?

HS: They mostly do the judicial aspect of their defense, but some Brigadas members in my city have criminal lawsuits on them accusing them of planning such settlements.

AD: So you’ve said the Brazilian left has mostly focused on the Haddad election campaign but that this won’t be enough. What do you think needs to be done?

HS: First I think the Worker’s Party and specifically Lula’s current needs to go. I will never forgive them for trying to blackmail the country into voting and supporting them with the threat of fascism. Second, the left needs to get back to doing base work and organize itself in perhaps a new formation without the vices of the old one. Brazilians will suffer a lot in the coming years, but maybe hard times can make harder people.

AD: Will it be possible to do the necessary work under fascism?

HS: It was possible in the dictatorship and it is possible now, the left just needs to get smarter, more organized and set their eyes on community organizing.

AD: Which groups would you identify with having the best chance of returning to community organizing? Or do you think entirely new formations are needed?

HS: Some groups like Brigadas, PCR, and CAB already do it, they could expand or a new formation could arise. I don’t know.

AD: As an American, Brazilian politics seem remote, is there anything you think left formations here could do to support the movement there?

HS: Funnelling money to organizations you choose and perhaps helping out refugees, although I’m not sure if that is possible under Trump. The Brazilian left desperately needs training in diverse skills too, such as digital marketing.

AD: Okay last question, do you have any advice for American communists and radicals dealing with conditions under Trump?

HS: The biggest lesson in both Trump and Bolsonaro is that people do not necessarily prefer centrist candidates over right or left ones. Moderation does not please more people. The right is not afraid to radicalize. Do not fear that either. Radicalize.

AD: Well put. Thanks so much for taking the time to be interviewed Do you have anything else you’d like to add?

HS: Yes. Bolsonaro is projecting himself as a new Pinochet. Neoliberals are siding with him over that. His minister of the economy will be a famous neoliberal economist and have free reign. There is a small chance the Worker’s Party wins. A recent poll was a technical tie of 52-48%. 3 million voters mostly in the Northeast which is a PT stronghold had their voting card nullified because they didn’t register their biometric information, and those 3 million were the difference for PT in the last election, so PT would have to turn even more the tide. Assuming PT wins, there is a risk of a full-blown military coup, already announced by many partisans of Bolsonaro including his vice president who is a retired military general.


And you are welcome. Thank you for having an interest in Brazil.

 

Missing Victory? Blanqui and the Paris Commune

Louis August Blanqui was a key revolutionary leader in the French Socialist movement. Yet when the Paris Commune erupted in 1871, Blanqui was in prison, leaving his core of followers without leadership. Failing to defeat inevitable counter-revolution, this experiment in social emancipation was crushed in blood.  How would have Blanqui’s leadership affected the outcome of the Commune? Doug Enaa Greene, author of ‘Communist Insurgent: Blanqui’s Politics of Revolution’ weighs in. 

Barricades of the Paris Commune

Rosa Luxemburg, reflecting on the lessons of the defeated 1919 Spartacist Uprising, wrote in one of her last articles:

The whole path of socialism, as far as revolutionary struggles are concerned, is paved with sheer defeats. And yet, this same history leads step by step, irresistibly, to the ultimate victory! Where would we be today without those “defeats” from which we have drawn historical experience, knowledge, power, idealism! Today, where we stand directly before the final battle of the proletarian class struggle, we are standing precisely on those defeats, not a one of which we could do without, and each of which is a part of our strength and clarity of purpose.1

While penning those words, Luxemburg must have pondered the fate of the Paris Commune of 1871, history’s first socialist revolution. The failure of the Commune has haunted generations of revolutionary, who have wondered what it could have done differently to survive. Karl Marx believed that any uprising in Paris would fail, but when the Commune was proclaimed, he hailed them for “storming the heavens.” Yet the Commune did not last – it was isolated from the rest of France, hampered by its own indecisive leadership, and crushed by the overwhelming power of the counterrevolution. Due to the proletariat’s immaturity and inexperience, the Commune was premature and its defeat was unavoidable. However, the sacrifices of the Commune were not in vain, the Bolsheviks learned important lessons from its failure and were able to successfully take and hold power.2 Yet was the Commune destined to be just another ‘glorious defeat’ in the annals of revolutionary history, or was victory actually possible?

In order for the Commune to prevail, any strategy would have to overcome two problems. First: the weaknesses of the National Guard – the main military force of the Commune – who not only never became an effective military force, but missed their best chance in the revolution’s opening days to take the offensive against the weakened counterrevolutionaries at Versailles. Secondly: there was no clear and decisive leadership in the Commune. One figure who could have overcome both these weaknesses to provide the needed military and political leadership for the Commune was Louis-Auguste Blanqui. Blanqui was the most legendary and uncompromising revolutionary in nineteenth-century France. Blanqui believed that a revolution needed to take the offensive to be victorious. He also possessed the prestige and moral authority capable of rallying both the National Guard and the Commune to his leadership. At best, a victory for the Commune would only be a military triumph. Since Blanqui neither appreciated nor understood the socialist potential of the Commune, its final shape would likely resemble the Jacobin dictatorship of 1793.

The Significance of the Paris Commune

Lasting only 72 days, the Paris Commune was a courageous effort by the oppressed to overturn social, economic and political inequality. In its place, the Commune created new institutions of collective power which broke the existing repressive and bureaucratic state apparatus in favor of a state based on universal suffrage, instant recall of delegates, modest pay for elected officials, and the fusion of legislative and executive functions. It replaced the standing army with the people in arms. The Commune attacked the militarism of French society, putting its faith in the unity of all peoples and internationalism. The Commune fulfilled a number of promises during its short existence: it separated church and state, nationalized church property, instituted free, compulsory, democratic and secular education, made strides toward gender equality, and encouraged the formation of cooperatives in abandoned workshops.  The revolutionary principles embodied in the Paris Commune continue to inspire revolutionaries across the world.3

The National Guard and the Seizure of Power

The main military force of the Paris Commune was the National Guard with 340,000 members in March 1871 – nearly the entire able-bodied male population of Paris. The National Guard possessed a long and proud history – its origins lay in 1789 Revolution when it was created by Lafayette as a citizen-militia. According to Robespierre, the National Guard defended the “citadel of the Revolution and the pure and upright citizens who conduct the revolutionary chariot.”4 During the Restoration (1815-1830) and the July Monarchy (1830-1848), the National Guard lost its revolutionary character. When the Second Republic (1848-1851) was proclaimed in 1848, the National Guard was rebuilt with a bourgeois leadership and was used during the June Days to suppress the Parisian proletariat. Under the Second Empire (1851-1870), Napoleon III again allowed the Guard to languish.

However, the outbreak of the Franco-Prussian War of 1870-1871 meant that the National Guard was revived. In August 1871, as the Prussians advanced, the government enrolled most of the Parisian male population into the Guard. As the war turned against France, the National Guard became more and more indispensable to the defense of the capital. Following the devastating French defeat at Sedan in September and the capture of Emperor Napoleon III, a Third Republic was proclaimed. The Republic proceeded to expand the size of the National Guard to 90,000 and now with most of the French Army captured, they were the only organized force capable of defending the besieged capital.

Yet the Republic was frightened of this democratic armed force based among the workers. The National Guard was different than normal armies with their elitist and hierarchical ethos. All officers of the National Guard were elected (except for the government-appointed commander-in-chief) and subject to recall (allowing the battalions to reflect the ever-changing popular mood). Although revolutionary influence was limited in the National Guard, workers were already growing suspicious and hostile to the government due to its greater fear of the armed workers than of the Prussians.

Government hostility was compounded by the desperate siege conditions in Paris. The Prussian blockade had cut off food supplies, completely ruined the economy, brought wide-scale unemployment for most of the middle class. Furthermore, the government did little to organize relief efforts since they were hampered by their belief in the principles of economic freedom and, according to Robert Tombs, they were “reluctant to cause public alarm or provoke the disappearances of food stocks underground into a black market. So it introduced a bare minimum of requisition and rationing. Government policy was incoherent and less than efficient. Requisitions and controls brought in piecemeal, often too late.”5 The burden of shortages, price rises, and long queues fell heaviest on working-class families (particularly women).6 During the siege, speculators amassed enormous profits, which only made the populace more receptive to revolutionary demands for price controls and social justice.  

Throughout the winter of 1870-1 conditions in Paris deteriorated even further as temperatures dropped to subzero levels. During Christmas, while people in working-class neighborhoods were dying of starvation, the wealthy districts and restaurants held festive celebrations with plenty of food. The Germans made sure Paris was reminded of war by periodical bombardment. By the time the Prussians lifted the siege in March, it was estimated that there were 64,154 deaths. According to Donny Gluckstein: “Workers suffered disproportionately, their death rate being twice that of the upper class.”7 The Republic maintained the National Guard out of necessity, and despite the low pay for Guardsmen, employment in the Guard for families could mean the difference between food on the table or starvation. As the siege progressed, more than 900,000 people became dependent in one form or another on the National Guard.

In January, the Republic concluded an armistice, which not only cost the country a large indemnity (to be paid on the backs of the workers), but surrendered the provinces of Alsace-Lorraine to the Germans. In February, elections to the National Assembly returned a monarchist majority who proceeded to approve the Armistice terms by a vote of 546 to 107. The National Assembly also appointed Adolphe Thiers as the President of the Third Republic. Thiers had a long career serving every French government since the 1830s. Under the Orleanist dynasty, he was Minister of the Interior (and later premier) where he had ruthlessly crushed the Parisian uprising of 1834. He had helped bring down the Second Republic by assisting Louis Bonaparte to attain the throne and became a deputy under during the Second Empire. Although Thiers was an early advocate of war against Prussia, he spoke out against the war when it was already lost. Through careful political maneuvering, Thiers distanced himself from the Government of National Defense when the armistice was signed. Despite Thiers’ service to so many different French governments, he appealed to almost every political faction. Thiers would be responsible for orchestrating the repression and the bloodletting of the Paris Commune.

Paris was outraged by this armistice and the elections. They had suffered heavily in the war, only to see the Republic prostrate itself before the invaders instead of rallying the people in arms to fight. The elections also raised the specter of a royalist restoration feared by Red and Republican Paris.
 
In a further blow to national pride, the National Assembly permitted the Germans to parade 30,000 troops through the capital on March 1. The National Guard called for continued resistance to the Germans and reorganized themselves by electing a Central Committee. Massive patriotic demonstrations were held on February 24 to mark the anniversary of the 1848 revolution. Parisians seized arms and ammunition to prepare for a final battle with the Germans. However, the First International, Vigilance Committees and other popular groups in Paris warned the National Guard against provoking a confrontation with the Prussians. Eventually, the Central Committee relented and the popular organizations decided to passively boycott the Germans. Communard participant and historian Pierre-Olivier Lissagaray offers this colorful description of how Germans were greeted when they entered Paris:

they were assailed only by the gibes of guttersnipes. The statues on the Place de la Concorde were veiled in black. Not a shop or cafe was open. No one spoke to them. A silent, mournful crowd glowered at them as if they had been a pest of vermin. A few barbarian officers were permitted a hasty visit to the Louvre. They were isolated as if they had been lepers. When they glumly retired, on March 3, a great bonfire was kindled at the Arc de Triomphe to purify the soil fouled by the invader’s tread. A few prostitutes who had consorted with Prussian officers were beaten, and a cafe which had opened its doors was wrecked. The Central Committee had united all Paris in a great moral victory; even more, it had united it against the government which had inflicted this humiliation.8

Before France signed the treaty, the National Guard and the revolutionaries in Paris were caught in a bind over how to back the war effort without also supporting the government. After the peace treaty was an accomplished fact, that problem was gone and nothing remained to distract the Parisians from confronting the government.

The National Assembly passed two provocative and vindictive decrees that brought antagonisms in Paris to the boiling point. First, the National Assembly moved to Versailles, fearing the insurrectionary mood in Paris. To all Parisians, this was a blow to the prestige of the capital. Secondly, during the war there had been a moratorium on debt repayment, which the National Assembly lifted on March 13. This struck hard both the impoverished working class and small shopkeepers. Lissagaray describes the impact: “Two or three hundred thousand workmen, shopkeepers, model makers, small manufacturers working in their own lodgings, who had spent their little stock of money and could not yet earn any more, all business being at a standstill, were thus thrown upon the tender mercies of the landlord, of hunger and bankruptcy.”9 Now the broad masses of Paris were united against the government in Versailles.

Disorder continued to rise in Paris, frightening the bourgeoisie and causing approximately 100,000 of them to leave before the revolution. The National Guard was no longer under government control, their newly appointed commander-in-chief viewed as a royalist and a defeatist.10 Versailles saw the National Guard was now a threat to their authority, property and social order. The National Assembly wanted to preserve order in the capital, but only had 12,000 regular soldiers under their command. Thiers wanted the Guard disarmed, but had to move carefully to avoid provoking an armed confrontation.

On March 18, Thiers sent troops into Paris to retake 400 cannons under National Guard control. For the Guard, these guns were symbols of the independent power of Paris and its revolutionary people.11 Initially, everything went according to plan and the soldiers seized the cannons. However, no one thought to bring horses to carry away the heavy weapons. So the soldiers waited, but word spread across Paris that they were being disarmed. The population gathered around the soldiers – who were miserable, demoralized and tired of war. Lissargaray describes how this confrontation led to the outbreak of the revolution:

As in our great days, the women were the first to act. Those of the 18th March, hardened by the siege — they had had a double ration of misery — did not wait for the men. They surrounded the machine guns, apostrophized the sergeant in command of the gun, saying, ‘This is shameful; what are you doing there?’ The soldiers did not answer. Occasionally a non-commissioned officer spoke to them: ‘Come, my good women, get out of the way.’ At the same time a handful of National Guards, proceeding to the post of the Rue Doudeauville, there found two drums that had not been smashed, and beat the rappel. At eight o’clock they numbered 300 officers and guards, who ascended the Boulevard Ornano. They met a platoon of soldiers of the 88th, and, crying, Vive la République! enlisted them. The post of the Rue Dejean also joined them, and the butt-end of their muskets raised, soldiers and guards together marched up to the Rue Muller that leads to the Buttes Montmartre, defended on this side by the men of the 88th. These, seeing their comrades intermingling with the guards, signed to them to advance, that they would let them pass. General Lecomte, catching sight of the signs, had the men replaced by sergents-de-ville, and confined them in the Tower of Solferino, adding, ‘You will get your deserts.’ The sergents-de-ville discharged a few shots, to which the guards replied. Suddenly a large number of National Guards, the butt-end of their muskets up, women and children, appeared on the other flank from the Rue des Rosiers. Lecomte, surrounded, three times gave the order to fire. His men stood still, their arms ordered. The crowd, advancing, fraternized with them, and Lecomte and his officers were arrested.12

After the mutiny, Generals Claude Martin Lecomte and Jacques Léonard Clément-Thomas were executed by their own men (despite efforts by the National Guard to prevent the executions). Those soldiers who did not join the revolutionary crowd escaped from the city and retreated to Versailles.  Now the Central Committee of the National Guard was the sovereign power in Paris. However, the exhilaration of revolutionary triumph would prove to be short-lived, as a civil war was about to begin.

The Weakness of the Commune and National Guard

On the morrow of the revolution, Blanquists in the National Guard, such as Émile Duval, argued for an immediate offensive against Versailles. The Blanquist Gaston Da Costa wrote in retrospect, political and social revolution still lay in the future. And to accomplish it the assembly that had sold us out had to be constrained by force or dissolve…. It would not be by striking it with decrees and proclamations that a breach in the Versailles Assembly would be achieved, but by striking it with cannonballs.” 13 The Blanquists argued that the counterrevolution had to be militarily defeated before any lasting social change could occur. The chances for a swift Commune victory appeared promising since they possessed a potential military force of nearly 200,000 National Guardsmen.14


According to the historian Alistair Horne, Versailles no longer had many loyal National Guard units under their command: “the ‘reliable’ units of the National Guard in Paris, which under the siege had once numbered between fifty and sixty battalions, could now be reckoned at little more than twenty; compared with some three hundred dissident battalions, now liberally equipped with cannon.”15 Thousands of regular troops were still German POWs, while those remaining to Versailles lacked discipline and there was a danger of them being susceptible to revolutionary propaganda. Despite the National Guard’s disorganization, their enemy was in even worse state and a swift blow could topple them. Instead of going on the attack, the National Guard relinquished their power and called for an election on March 26 to legalize their revolution by electing a commune. On March 30, the Commune abolished conscription and the standing army.

With an offensive now ruled out, the Commune began negotiations with Versailles hoping to avoid bloodshed and secure municipal liberties.16 This was a forlorn hope since Thiers and Versailles recognized at the very onset that this conflict was a civil war and only side or the other would triumph. Moderates in both the Commune and the National Assembly made several futile, almost comical, efforts to broker a compromise. The negotiations and the Commune’s indecisiveness gave Thiers valuable time to rearm, organize, and negotiate with the Prussians to release French POWs and bolster his forces.

At the beginning of April, Versailles began skirmishing on the outskirts of Paris. The population was roused to a feverish state and was eager to fight. The majority of generals, including the Blanquists Duval and Eudes, supported an offensive sortie to take Versailles. After much hesitation, the Commune launched their first offensive in April, but Versailles was more than ready: “Thiers, having scraped the bottom of the barrel, having brought in Mobiles from all over the provinces and mobilized the gendarmes and ‘Friends of Order’ National Guards [National Guard members loyal to Versailles] escaped from Paris, managed to muster over 60,000 troops at Versailles.”17 By contrast, Lissaragay describes the deplorable state of the National Guard: “They neglected even the most elementary precautions, knew not how to collect artillery, ammunition-wagons or ambulances, forgot to make an order of the day, and left the men for several hours without food in a penetrating fog. Every Federal chose the leader he liked best. Many had no cartridges, and believed the sortie to be a simple demonstration.”18 The National Guard was poorly-led, organized and lost the battle.

Now, Versailles besieged Paris, cordoning off the city from the rest of the country as they amassed troops for an assault. If the Commune was to survive, they needed to create a centralized and organized army to challenge Versailles. Potentially, the Commune had a popular army who were willing to fight for a political and social ideal to the last drop of blood. The problem was that this energy could not be channeled into an effective fighting force. However, in two months, the Commune went through five War Delegates who could not overcome the inherent disorganization of the National Guard and implement an agreed-upon strategy. No leadership was forthcoming from the ruling Communal Council who were divided into several competing factions – Jacobins, Blanquists, Internationalists, and Proudhonists. The Blanquists and Jacobins supported tighter security, centralization and an emergency dictatorship to wage war, while the Proudhonist majority (and many Internationalists) opposed and any thought of “Jacobin centralism.” The Commune’s lack of leadership, inconsistent strategy and factionalism all served to benefit Versailles:


Thus, from the day it assumed office, the danger was apparent that the Commune might be overloaded, indeed overwhelmed, by the sheer diversity of desires as represented by so polygenous a multitude of personalities, ideologies, and interests. And there was no obvious leader to guide the multitude. Had Blanqui been there, it might have been quite a different story. But Blanqui was securely in the hands of Thiers, while Delescluze, the only other possible leader, was so ailing that he would have preferred nothing better than to have retired from the scene altogether. Thiers, it now seemed, had at least made two excellent initial calculations; one was the seizure of Blanqui, and the other had been to force the Communards to commit themselves before either their plans or their policy had time to crystallize.19

Following the April victory, Thiers tightening the noose around Paris. The Commune never overcame its weaknesses and broke the siege. In late May, a French Army of 170,000 men moved into Paris and crushed the revolution in a horrendous bloodbath that killed at least 20,000 Communards.

Partisans of the Commune fight to the death during the infamous ‘bloody week’

Louis-Auguste Blanqui

Could the Commune’s fate have been avoided? The presence of the sixty-six-year-old Louis-Auguste Blanqui could have changed everything. Blanqui (1805–1881) was one of the most revered, dedicated, and uncompromising communist revolutionaries of nineteenth-century France. He had participated in five abortive revolutions from 1830 to 1870. Blanqui’s revolutionary strategy was decidedly simple: a secret conspiracy, highly organized in a hierarchical cell structure and trained in the use of arms and the clandestine arts, would rise up on an appointed day and seize political power in Paris. Once the revolutionaries had power, they would establish a transitional dictatorship which would accomplish two things: serve as a police force “of the poor against the rich” and educate the people in the virtues of a new society. Once these twin tasks were completed, the dictatorship would give way to a communist society. Every French government since 1830 had seen fit to lock him up, hoping to silence his uncompromising voice of class war. Despite constant failure and imprisonment, Blanqui emerged from the dungeons every time to continue fighting.

Blanqui was mainly a man of action with no coherent theory, but a mishmash of eclectic ideas. Despite his theoretical weaknesses, Blanqui did have a keen grasp of insurrectionary tactics that came from his long days as a Parisian street-fighter. In 1868, Blanqui wrote a treatise on urban warfare, Manual for an Armed Insurrection. Blanqui had a thorough knowledge of the methods of street fighting, understanding the importance of organization: “There must be no more of these tumultuous uprisings of ten thousand isolated heads, acting randomly, in disorder, with no thought of the whole, each in his own corner and according to his own fantasy.”20 Organization, coordination, and concern for the larger picture would replace disorder, randomness, and individualism if a revolutionary insurrection was to prevail. He knew that insurgents who are motivated by an idea can be more than a match for a better-armed adversary: “In the popular ranks…what drives them is enthusiasm, not fear. Superior to the adversary in devotion, they are much more still in intelligence. They have the upper hand over him morally and even physically, by conviction, strength, fertility of resources, promptness of body and spirit, they have both the head and the heart. No troop in the world is the equal of these elite men.”21 Blanqui’s ethic is – if you lack the will to win or hesitate in carrying out what the revolution demands of you, not only will you lose, but you are a traitor to the cause you claim to serve. These lessons were not understood by the Paris Commune.

Yet Blanqui’s approach to revolution was voluntaristic – neglecting the role of the masses in their own liberation and placing almost superhuman faith in the ability of arms and organization to succeed, regardless of the objective conditions. He wrote once that “Armament and organization, these are the decisive agencies of progress, the serious means of putting an end to oppression and misery.”22 He believed that due to the unstable contradictions of bourgeois society that revolution could be launched at any time, provided there was a combat organization with a clear plan of battle and the will to win against insurmountable odds can unveil unseen roads to communism.

However, Blanqui was not simply a man of action and an insurrectionist, but a symbol. Alain Badiou argued that emancipatory politics is “essentially the politics of the anonymous masses,” it is through proper names such as those of Blanqui where “the ordinary individual discovers glorious, distinctive individuals as the mediation for his or her own individuality, as the proof that he or she can force its finitude. The anonymous action of millions of militants, rebels, fighters, unrepresentable as such, is combined and counted as one in the simple, powerful symbol of the proper name.”23

For members of the ruling class like Alexis de Tocqueville, he was the very personification of the radicalism of the dangerous classes who threatened their property. When de Tocqueville first saw Blanqui, his very appearance “filled me with disgust and horror.  His cheeks were pale and faded, his lips white; he looked ill, evil, foul, with a dirty pallor and the appearance of a mouldering corpse… he might have lived in a sewer and just emerged from it.”24 According to the novelist Victor Hugo, Blanqui was “no longer a man, but a sort of lugubrious apparition in which all degrees of hatred born of all degrees of misery seemed to be incarnated.”25 Blanqui was a specter whose every word and deed portended the end of order, property, and privilege. Marx recognized that Blanqui was a symbol of terror to the capitalist class and the beacon of hope for the working class: “the proletariat rallies more and more around revolutionary socialism, around communism, for which the bourgeoisie has itself invented the name of Blanqui.”26

Portrait of Louis August Blanqui

The Blanquist Party

During the latter days of the Second Empire, Blanqui’s revolutionary vision and stature attracted many workers and students who formed conspiratorial organizations to bring down the government. The Blanquists launched two failed coup attempts in August and October of 1870. When the Commune was proclaimed, they had members in the National Guard and the Communal Council. They were seemingly well-positioned to play a commanding role in the Commune. So what happened?

For one, they lacked the leadership of Blanqui himself who was in one of Thiers’ jails for the duration of the Commune. Yet only a few months before in September and October of 1870, Blanqui had offered “critical support” for the Republic’s war effort in his journal La Patrie en Danger. Blanqui’s support for the Third Republic confused and disoriented his party. According to the Blanquist militant Da Costa argues, “We cannot say this often enough: since the besieging of Paris by the Prussians, the Blanquist party had sent its men into the battalions of the National Guard, and in doing so lost all cohesion…. Blanqui’s cry of ‘the fatherland in danger,’ as meritorious as it was, was also a disintegrating factor for the revolutionary forces it disposed of until then.”27

Blanqui wanted a more vigorous military effort with a levée en masse and the creation of a revolutionary regime like the Jacobins to fight the Prussians. However, the Republic was unwilling and unable to implement these measures, so Blanqui turned against it and participated in a failed coup attempt of October 1870.28 When the coup collapsed, the Republic placed a bounty on his head and had to go into hiding. Eventually, Blanqui was captured by Versailles on March 17, the day before the foundation of the Commune. In a cruel twist of fate, Blanqui missed the revolution which he had worked for decades to achieve and his party was left leaderless at the critical hour.

Although the Blanquists held several leadership positions within the Commune and the National Guard, the historian Patrick Hutton says they “did not act as a consolidated interest group.”29 Without Blanqui at the helm, his party was incapable of acting effectively and decisively. The Blanquists failed to convince the Commune to in launch a first strike against Versailles,. They also lost their chance to take military leadership of the Commune during the opening days. The Blanquist general Eudes proposed constructing a revolutionary army led by Blanquist commanders (Duval, Chauviere, Ferre, and himself), but this plan was quashed by the Central Committee of the National Guard.30

Secondly, the Blanquist faction’s proposed emergency measures to fight Versailles were resisted by the Communal Council – who believed these would violate the principles of the revolution and democracy by instituting a one-man dictatorship and Jacobin terror. As the military situation continued to worsen during April, the calls grew louder from many outside the Blanquist ranks to create a Committee of Public Safety – harkening back to its 1793 predecessor which saved the First Republic from foreign invaders and counterrevolutionaries. It was hoped that the success of the original Committee of Public Safety could be repeated. Eventually, a majority on the Communal Council supported the creation of a Committee of Public Safety.31 However, it was not led by capable men who did not use the unlimited powers theoretically at their disposal. Instead, the Committee of Public Safety added to the organizational confusion of the Commune and was unable to prevent the final debacle.

On top of its own organizational difficulties, the Commune had to contend with real threats of subversion and deal with a hostile press. While many Communards believed repressive organs were unnecessary, the Blanquist Raoul Rigault who headed the Communards’ police force knew stern measures were needed to combat the counterrevolution. Rigault was a seemingly unlikely police chief, who began his political life during the Second Empire as a young flamboyant Bohemian and atheist militant in the Parisian student quarter. Yet he managed to expose police informers in the Blanquist organization of the 1860s. Blanqui praised Rigault’s talents: “He is nothing but a gamin, but he makes a first-rate policeman.”32 When Rigault banned four hostile papers on April 18: Le Bien Public, Le Soir, La Cloche, and L’Opinion, his actions were protested in the Communal Council and led to calls for his resignation, but he managed to stay on. Rigault went after suspected counterrevolutionaries such as the clergy and investigated monasteries and churches, believing that they held arms and hidden treasure. However, these repeated searches turned up nothing substantive. Although Rigault possessed a fierce revolutionary drive to do what the situation required, he was viewed by many as a “lazy and conceited, a man who reveled in the perquisites of office without being willing to face the responsibilities… Rigault continued to pass his afternoons in the cafes of the Left Bank, as had long been his custom, and left the bulk of the work to his subordinates.”33 Rigault’s fervor was not shared by the majority of the Commune and there was no structure to utilize him, so his talents were left without effective direction.

Rigault and the rest of the Blanquists recognized the fatal weaknesses afflicting the Commune and believed that the imprisoned Blanqui could overcome them and lead the revolution to victory. To that end, Rigault spared no effort to free Blanqui and once declared that: “Without Blanqui, nothing could be done. With him, everything.”34 Blanqui’s prestige extended far beyond the Blanquists, the rest of the Commune viewed him with awe. Initially, he was elected to the Communal Council (in absentia) and there was a motion in the Commune to make him honorary President (instead that honor fell to Charles Beslay).35 After these failures, the Commune negotiated with Versailles to free Blanqui, offering the Archbishop of Paris, their most valuable hostage in exchange. Thiers refused and the Communards made a desperate offer to trade all 74 hostages in exchange for Blanqui. Thiers did not budge. Karl Marx said that for Thiers, it was a wise decision to keep Blanqui under lock and key: “The Commune again and again had offered to exchange the archbishop, and ever so many priests into the bargain, against the single Blanqui, then in the hands of Thiers. Thiers obstinately refused. He knew that with Blanqui he would give to the Commune a head…”36 In the end, Blanqui remained in jail as his comrades were massacred on the streets of Paris.

Despite the Blanquists occupying a number of key positions, they were unable to act in a coordinated or decisive manner to shape either the Commune’s military strategy or its political policies. Without Blanqui, no one in his party possessed the same stature to provide the needed leadership and discipline.

The Choice

If Blanqui had managed to avoid arrest on March 17, what would he have done at the Paris Commune? Based on what know, Blanqui would have argued for a first strike against the routed and demoralized forces of Versailles. The brief window of two weeks before Versailles reorganized in early April was the one time when the Commune had a clear military advantage. Marx lamented that the Commune failed to go on the offensive:

If they are defeated only their ‘decency’ will be to blame. They should have marched at once on Versailles, after first Vinoy and then the reactionary section of the Paris National Guard had themselves retired from the battlefield. The right moment was missed because of conscientious scruples. They did not want to start a civil war, as if that mischievous abortion Thiers had not already started the civil war with his attempt to disarm Paris! Second mistake: The Central Committee surrendered its power too soon, to make way for the Commune. Again from a too ‘honourable’ scrupulousness!37


Blanqui knew that at the beginning of an insurrection, it was necessary to take the offensive or risk losing everything. While other Blanquists were ignored when they made the same case to the Commune and the National Guard, they may have listened to Blanqui with his tremendous moral authority. The National Guard did not attack when it had the advantage over a completely disorganized adversary, and the Blanquists were uncoordinated and leaderless. Blanqui’s presence and leadership could have provided the missing link needed to sway the National Guard and lead the Blanquists to launch an immediate offensive which could well have succeeded.

There has been endless speculation by historians on whether the Commune could have succeeded considering its own manifold disorganization and the forces arrayed against it and on Blanqui’s potential role in the revolution. Hutton argues that the Blanquist hope in their leaders was “a temptation to fantasy. In clinging to a myth of the Commune’s enduring viability in the face of its obvious failings, the Blanquists passed the frontier into that imaginary land wherein they could fulfill the aspirations of their aesthetic reverie free from the intrusion of harsh realities.”38

However, others beyond the ranks of the Blanquists have also stated that Blanqui could have provided the necessary leadership to overcome the divisions which plagued the Commune. For instance, the Communard Minister of War Gustave-Paul Cluseret who believed that: “If Blanqui were at Paris he might save the Commune. He would have taken the political conduct of affairs into his own hands, and have left me free to devote myself to the military defence of Paris. Accustomed to discipline, he would have disciplined his people, and would have allowed me to discipline mine.”39 The French historian, Maurice Dommanget, author of innumerable works on Blanqui, speculates that his presence at the Commune could have proven decisive: “With his organizational and military abilities, with his lucidity, the prestige that was attached to his name, Blanqui would rapidly have become the leader and the spirit of the insurrection. Jaclard believes that he would have the necessary resolution and sufficient authority to command the march on Versailles on March 19, this would obviously change the face of things.”40

Many Marxists have argued that Blanqui was the natural leader of the Commune. As mentioned above, Marx saw Blanqui as the Commune’s head. The Marxist Victor Serge lamented Blanqui’s absence from Paris: “The misfortune of Blanqui, a prisoner during the Commune, the head of the revolution cut off and preserved in the Chateau du Taureau at the very moment when the Parisian proletariat lacked a real leader, still troubled us as the worst kind of ill luck.”41 While Blanqui had little military experience beyond conspiratorial organization and street fighting, but then again, how much training did Leon Trotsky have when he organized the October Revolution and the Red Army?

The Belgian Trotskyist Ernest Mandel says Blanqui was not only “ the greatest French revolutionary of the 19th century” but added:

Everyone, including Karl Marx, considered him the natural leader of the Commune, in which his followers formed a minority around Vaillant. The Paris-based revolutionary government proposed to Thiers that he be freed in exchange for the release of all the Commune’s hostages, including the archbishop of Paris. But Thiers refused, demonstrating the extent to which the French bourgeoisie feared the organisational and leadership capacities of the great revolutionary, and the impact his political gifts could have had on the outcome of the civil war.42

Assuming that Blanqui was able to lead the Commune to victory over Versailles, this is only the beginning of their struggles. Here we enter the realm of pure speculation. A triumphant Commune would have to win over the rest of France. In reality, there were other communes in France in 1871, but they were revolutionary islands surrounded by a hostile countryside and peasantry opposed to the “Reds” and continuation of the war. If the Commune held onto power, they faced a prospect of renewed war with Prussia, which could be even bloodier. They would need to win over enough of the general staff, and although many of the officers may have opposed the Red Revolutionaries, they may have supported a new government committed to doing everything possible to achieve victory. Perhaps, Blanqui’s Commune would become a “French Yenan” –  a liberated zone which rallies the people in arms against a foreign invader. Yet the needs of fighting a war would mean that those alternative voices for social change such as radical workers, Proudhonists and Internationalists would likely be drowned out (or perhaps silenced by a new Committee of Public Safety?). It seems unlikely that the Commune’s advanced social ideas would survive the grim trial of war, assuming France prevailed at all.

Any victory for a Blanquist-led Commune would not have been a triumph for the socialist aspects of the Commune. Blanqui and his followers saw the Commune as a repetition of the Paris Commune of 1793, and not as the beginning of modern socialist politics. The Blanquists neither appreciated nor understood the socialist potential of the Commune. They failed to recognize the creative aspects of proletarian self-emancipation and mass organization which it represented. Blanquists such as Gaston Da Costa denied any socialist possibility for the Commune:

The insurrection of March 18 was essentially political, republican, patriotic, and, to qualify it with just one epithet, exclusively Jacobin… It is nevertheless impossible to argue that socialist ideas, if not doctrines, were not spoken of within the assembled Commune, but these affirmations remained verbal, platonic, and in any case foreign to the 200,000 rebels who on March 18, 1871, slid cartridges into their rifles in indignation. If they had truly been socialist revolutionaries, which our good bourgeois like to believe, and not indignant Jacobin and patriotic revolutionaries, they would have acted completely differently…. Neither Blanqui, if he would have led us, nor his disciples dreamed of creating this environment in 1871. At that time the Blanquists were the only thing that they could be: Jacobin revolutionaries rising up to defend the threatened republic. The idealist socialists assembled in the minority were nothing but dreamers, without a defined socialist program, and their unfortunate tactics consisted in making the people of Paris and the communes of France believe that they had one.43

While the Commune echoed back to the Jacobins by reviving the revolutionary calendar and creating its own Committee for Public Safety, it also marked the entry of the working class onto the stage of history as an independent actor. In this sense, the Commune was a harbinger of the future. The Blanquists could only commemorate, venerate and honor the revolution of 1871 as a holy relic like they did with the bourgeois revolution of 1789. For socialist revolutionaries such as Franz Mehring, the Commune raised new questions of socialist politics and mass working class organization far different than those of Blanquist conspiracies:

The history of the Paris Commune has become a touchstone of great importance for the question: How should the revolutionary working class organize its tactics and strategy in order to achieve ultimate victory? With the fall of the Commune, the last traditions of the old revolutionary legend have likewise fallen forever; no favorable turn of circumstances, no heroic spirit, no martyrdom can take the place of the proletariat’s clear insight into…the indispensable conditions of its emancipation. What holds for the revolutions that were carried out by minorities, and in the interests of minorities, no longer holds for the proletariat revolution…In the history of the Commune, the germs of this revolution were effectively stifled by the creeping plants that, growing out of the bourgeois revolution of the eighteenth century, overran the revolutionary workers’ movement of the nineteenth century. Missing in the Commune were the firm organization of the proletariat as a class and the fundamental clarity as to its world-historical mission; on these grounds alone it had to succumb.44

For revolutionaries such as Lenin, the many errors and missteps of the Commune – not crushing the counterrevolution, not organizing a disciplined party and army, building an alliance with the peasantry, or taking the commanding heights of the economy – were studied so that they would not be repeated. The example of 1871 enabled the Russian Revolution of 1917 to succeed: “without the lessons and legends derived from the Commune, there would probably have been no successful Bolshevik Revolution of 1917…”45 Lenin had a good reason for dancing in the snow when the Soviet Republic reached its 73rd day and outlasting the Commune.

Although Blanqui and his party did not grasp the Commune’s socialist potential, they do represent a choice that could have won a military victory. Whatever the faults of Blanqui, he understood that revolutionaries must launch a swift offensive to win. If Blanqui was present at the Commune with his leadership, revolutionary will, and moral standing, he would have championed that option.

The USSR’s Founding Mother

M.A. Iasilli on what Bolshevik militant Nadezhda Krupskaya can teach us about education and labor.

Krupskaya gives a speech during the Civil War in 1920.

Since researching the stages of national development in the Soviet Union, I came across a very interesting trend that places the female subject front-and-center in Soviet political history. Not only do women play a critical role in the Russian Revolution that brought forth the first socialist experiment in world history, but women are able to enhance their labor and educational agency post-Russian Civil War in ways that propel them into high places. For one, women are key players in the agricultural sector, and become the teachers for future generations of Soviet citizens, using their vocation as a political revitalization agenda. Policies such as eight-week paid family leave and universal access to education are instituted. Yet, they became ingrained among a generation of women who identify as political radicals committed to building a state of collective equality.

Notwithstanding, these developments did not happen in a vacuum. Women took constitutional priority in 1917 and were able to vote in the Constituent Assembly. Beyond that, the Soviet government launched a campaign in the 1920s called Zhenotdel, which aimed at improving the lives of women through education.1 While Zhenotdel was established by Inessa Armand and Alexandra Kollontai, the framework of this movement comes from a long strain of theory written by Nadezhda Krupskaya, Vladimir Lenin’s wife. Her insights into education and labor and ‘how women can help,’ is a crucial contribution to history glossed over by too many.

Male-driven focuses in Soviet history tend to oppress and distort extant historical records of female contribution and thought, as well as their interaction with state-formation and national development in Soviet studies. Likewise, Krupskaya is often portrayed as ‘the wife caught in the middle’ of the affair drama between Lenin and his mistress, Inessa Armand. Krupskaya has also suffered in Soviet historiography because of rather splashy attention placed on women like Alexandra Kollontai who — while serving as the Commissar of Social Welfare — wrote a lot about sex, which has naturally attracted more intrigue from scholars and readers.

Krupskaya was a radical revolutionary whose ideas on education and labor were monumental in Soviet state formation. While serving as one of the head editors of Iskra (translation, “Spark”)she was appointed the secretary of the publishing organization and worked tirelessly with her husband to ensure the publication was thorough and prompt in terms of distribution and engaging clarity. This position fit her well, as Iskra dealt primarily with mobilizing and educating activists and workers on the socialist movement happening in Russia. The publication would be one of the most marked variables in consolidating and directing the revolution. Krupskaya was able to utilize her specialization in education to propel her activism and later contributions to Soviet policymaking. Her political work was a proven success, as she was appointed to the position of Deputy Minister of Education in 1929 and served until her death in 1939.

Generally speaking, my hope is that this conversation brings additional inquiry into the subject of Soviet women, more broadly, while also revitalizing Krupskaya as a founding mother and leading voice in determining the political culture of Soviet civic life.

What seems most prescient is Krupskaya’s view on social relations, power, women, and labor. In her philosophy, Krupskaya recognizes how a lack of class consciousness can lead to an apolitical labor force with an apathy toward civic engagement. In fact, Krupskaya places education at the center of all these important matters; her theories on creating a civically engaged culture revolves around a public and private merging — a polytechnic process that engages dialectical materialism and vocation. This is historically relevant since the Soviet Union had been in a unique stage of state-formation where the threat of Western capitalist subversion was pervasive, and liberal compromise seemed imminent from provisional government sympathizers.

This should prompt thinking on how Krupskaya’s underestimated history can help us in today’s political battles. In the post-Janus age, workers are mobilizing in massive numbers to ensure they maintain viability and rights within the professional structures they operate in. Teachers, in fact, are leading the charge by becoming more political inside and outside the workplace to counter forces of privatization. This includes demonstrating for fair pay and the right to strike but also advocating better quality of education for their students. The recent movements in West Virginia, Arizona, Kentucky, etc., perfectly demonstrates this.

But the political and historical significance should be worth elaborating; teachers have historically been a leading voice for political change and continue to be in that effort — and this is a good thing for building connections within communities and with institutions.

Krupskaya’s writings can teach us a lot in terms of enhancing modern civic engagement along with encouraging curiosity for workplace politics. Public and private merging had mainly been a theory applied to women and youth. What makes this such a powerful notion is that it moves beyond the typical liberal “glass ceiling” rhetoric that tends to isolate women (and other marginalized groups) in a capitalist framework.

Mothers can still be mothers. She goes on to say:

We should try to link our personal lives with the cause for which we struggle. . . One has to know how to merge[emphasis added] one’s life with the life of society. I once heard a woman addressing her work-mates say: ‘Comrades working women, you should remember that once you join the Party you have to give up husband and children.’ Of course, this is not the approach to the question. It is not a matter of neglecting husband and children, but of training the children to become fighters for [socialism]. . . The fact of this merging, the fact that the common cause of all working people becomes a personal matter, makes personal life richer.2

This perspective reflects the notion of “praxis” as elaborated by Paulo Freire in Pedagogy of the Oppressed: ‘Through the tangible experience of struggle, the individual develops a keen awareness of their condition and overcomes colonization within the mind.’ This “liberation” brings forth a reexamined (and enlightened) sense of self, but one that is tied to the betterment of society. Furthermore, Krupskaya addresses her audience by emphasizing the training of children. She compels the future to see youth as the most valued recipients of her future solutions in education, to inspire them, and to bring awareness to the “gap” that exists between their personal lives and “that of society.”3

Contemporary liberals argue that women who are single mothers must often consider individualist pursuits that fall within the “American Dream” myth, ‘Get rich! No matter the cost!’. Though, as Nicole Aschoff points out in The New Prophets of Capital, all too often, this neoliberal narrative tends to further marginalize working-class single mothers from breaking out of capitalism and achieving the kind of social mobility that benefits them, their families, and their community. She states, “Today’s new, elite storytellers present practical solutions to society’s problems that can be found in. . . profit-driven structures of production and consumption.” In other words, women must accept the parameters placed around their agency by market-based forces and seek to modify their personal lives merely within those structures, without seeking to change capitalism itself. However, being conscious of the social class dilemma allows those dominated by the forces of capitalism to break out of the chains of material culture. Krupskaya emphasizes this constantly.

A Polytechnic Education

So how does education sit in the center of this? Lately, calls have been made to reform education to include programs like work-preparedness for higher education and the addition of vocational schools to accommodate more technically-inclined students. For Krupskaya, education is both ideological and technical. Children do not learn simply from a curriculum, but also acquire knowledge by exploring the world around them through work. One could observe how this reflects Plato’s classical theory of eudaimonia, where experience builds character and, in turn, brings forth the fulfillment of happiness. But Krupskaya’s theory is rather in the vein of Robert Owen’s utopian theory of nineteenth-century communal education Like Owen, Krupskaya believed that children will absorb and mimic their elders as they watched them work and would gradually begin to assist as they grew older. This kind of observational behavior is imperative for cognitive development.

Understanding how vocation intersects with standardized pedagogy (as we know it) upends the traditional educational process and prompts new mechanisms of learning. It also urges parents to be part of their children’s education and children to eventually grapple with the idea of social class. This is why she emphasized “polytechnics.” Krupskaya states,

The difference between polytechnical and vocational schools is that the former’s centre of gravity is in the comprehension of the processes of labour, in development of an ability to combine theory with practice, to understand the interdependency of certain phenomena, whereas in vocational school the centre of gravity is the acquisition by pupils of working skills.4

Work-preparedness, henceforth, is fixed with a comprehensive education in both political awareness and technical practice.

‘Woman, learn to read and write! – Oh, Mother! If you were literate, you could help me!’ A poster by Elizaveta Kruglikova advocating female literacy, 1923.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In 1923, Krupskaya helped commission a campaign called Down With Illiteracy!. Her push for national education reform catalyzed government programs and nation-wide propaganda to help move her initiative along. The long-term effects would appear groundbreaking, as the program resulted in over 60 million adults being taught to read and write between 1920 and 1940. This work is what led to her being appointed to the position of Deputy Minister of Education.5

Long-term data illustrates that 65% of Soviet women in 1960 were serving as teachers, university graduate assistants, librarians, and cultural education workers. Wages for teachers gradually increased in 1932 across the board, and workers and peasants began enrolling in pedagogical colleges, thus, increasing their status in society. Also, the growth in educational and professional attainment meant college-ready women on collective farms could achieve an urban education, an affirmative action goal of the state. 6

Krupskaya specifically believed women should carry out mobilization tactics among other women workers and peasants who were unable to conceive class consciousness through a means of education. In fact, through the aggressive implementation of Krupskaya’s re-education theories and writings concerning labor productivity, women began commanding respect within the agricultural space and other sectors of the economy. 7

Most would argue that capitalism historically produced a greater share of equality, across categories of race and gender. However, in the 1940s, the contrary was true. For instance, 15% of Soviet women in 1941 were engineers, as opposed to 1.2% of women in the United States in 1950. Another data point illustrates how 15% of Soviet women were lawyers in 1941 as opposed to 3.5% in the United States during 1950. Soviet women and American women in both 1941 and 1950 share a significant presence in the teaching profession with Soviet women obtaining almost 50% of teaching positions. 8

Not only were these reforms meant for the educational and professional advancement of individual women, but also to help bolster the goals of the greater community. These programs helped in fulfilling state-wide goals that led to industrialization, which had been lacking under the previous Tsarist regime. Not to mention, it also paved the way for a stronger institutionalization of Soviet governance and identity. Women had been at the center of these efforts and were consequential actors in bringing about such change, even during the more conservative years of the late 30s and 40s.

Building Socialism Through Building Community

Aspirations for the future encompassed collective goals of building the socialist state in romantic ways that sometimes seemed quixotic, but always found the individual possessed with personal ambitions to help achieve goals larger than themselves. Through memoirs, we can discover that passions of romance and self-gratification delayed for determination to build an idealistic future. Merging was a socio-cultural process as well. In that, it meant engaging in rhetorical and practical methods to achieve knowledge of humanity. For example, often times immigrant students teamed up with Soviet students to fully grasp new academics and understand Soviet culture in greater depth.9 Thus, merging becomes the catalyst that drives socialist political culture forward for the Soviet Union.

In an increasingly atomized society, the idea of merging assists in mitigating the alienation that manifests within unbridled capitalism. This should teach us an invaluable lesson about some of the goals of socialism, broadly. More so, learning about how socialism built a pedagogy that harnessed community and employed political introspection for the sake of enriching labor capacities is beneficial in today’s late-stage capitalism. There is a dual motivation in education, as taught by Krupskaya — one residing in the ‘awareness of class consciousness and the other concerning ‘activism or civic engagement’ en masse, a public and private merging. This merging as outlined by Krupskaya is a method that can result in the advancement of those most alienated in society today, as women’s contributions in the Soviet Union transcended every application of the social process.

The system described here was not always perfect. Certainly, the Soviet Union experienced many tumultuous periods, especially seen in Stalin’s consolidation of power. These occurrences are well documented in a spate of research that is most common. The point of this piece, however, is to refrain from exhausting the scholarly consensus in liberal discourse that can sometimes oppress the progressive nuances in Soviet history. Every nation’s history contains periods of injustice. Of course, these moments cannot be overlooked. Yet, it is also noted that Russian history and culture have suffered greatly from the perennial Cold War polemic, Communism’s shadow, and Russophobic attitudes in the West. All of which have hampered a great amount of scholarly exploration that deserves greater attention, and perhaps, recognition. No one need not look beyond Edward Said’s insight into the patronization of Eastern identities by Western superiority to understand this simple defense.

At the bare minimum, therefore, I want to demonstrate how education and labor can coexist at the center of society and drive some of the most transformative social change the world has ever seen. And that can come from any determined society seeking to strengthen the bonds of community.

Ideal and Real History: L.A. Kauffman’s ‘Direct Action’

Jean Allen reviews L.A. Kauffman’s Direct Action, a history of the protest movements that filled the gap between the New Left and the modern left that are often ignored and forgotten. Allen argues that these movements cannot be understood strictly in terms of their theory, but by grasping the realities that they faced as organizers.

For those of us on the left, the last year has brought a series of strange emotions. We have felt fear at the surge of nationalism, anger at the further retrenching of austerity policies, at the possibility of a war, at the possibility of more deportations, less welfare, a destruction of the environment and of the people. But the last year has also brought an unexpected amount of hope: organizing efforts have begun to come together in an inspiring way, and despite the disappointments of the Sanders campaign, this year has seen what the media is constantly calling the “revival of socialism”.

This is not fully accurate, since we have not seen just the revival of a homogeneous single ‘socialism’. What we have instead seen is the revival of a massive number of competing ‘socialisms’. To quote Endnotes:

One becomes a communist or an anarchist on the basis of the particular thread out of which one weaves one’s banner (and today one often flies these flags, not on the basis of a heartfelt identity, but rather due to the contingencies of friendship). However, in raising whatever banner, revolutionaries fail to see the limits to which the groups they revere were actually responding — that is, precisely what made them a minority formation. Revolutionaries get lost in history, defining themselves by reference to a context of struggle that has no present-day correlate. They draw lines in sand which is no longer there.

That is, the revival of socialism has not just come in the form of a new project; because that project coexists with the rebirth of a dozen old socialisms. It is in this environment that the publishing of L.A. Kauffman’s Direct Action is of particular importance. Because of all the radical histories revived, all of the ‘red threads’ of history which are being picked up, the one radical history which is almost universally derided is the one we immediately came from. This is not accidental: the rise of idiosyncratic leftist sects has happened precisely because of these escapes to the past promise an easy fix to the boring and difficult work of organizing.

This illusion, that the issues of the left have entirely to do with the annoyances of consensus decision making, affinity groups, or spokes councils, and that we could fix them by merely accepting some superior organizational form—or even worse, some obscure historiography—is idealistic crankism at its worst. Yet that idealism has had real effects: the disdain to which the newest generation of leftists have towards many of the struggles from the generation before them, cherry-picking specific movements they like, presuming that the period between the Vietnam War protests and Occupy was a vacuum of radicalism in which very little of value occurred.

Direct Action is a massively ambitious text, aimed at showing the origins and development of strategies and tactics we’ve come to see as the norm and the ways these tactics connected movements we have previously seen as separate. As far as I am aware, it is one of the first texts to deal with this topic in such a systematic way and, for all its flaws, it needs to be lauded. Without texts which contextualize our tactics and strategies, we are left with a kind of idealized history of struggle where practices and movements emerge from the ether. Without knowing the ways that past movements interacted and connected, we are left relearning the past and projecting present biases onto our forebears. We need work like this to illuminate our real history.


The text begins with what is simultaneously an obscure event and one of the largest mobilizations in American history, the May Day protests of the early 1970s. Mobilized to stop the Vietnam War, the movement was mostly composed of counter-cultural hippies and former members of the student movement. While there was some participation from the ‘Old Left’, the protest was most notable as the gathering ground of the white elements of the (then) ‘New Left’. This mobilization was met with escalated violence, as President Nixon brought in the National Guard, the Marines, and even sent in tanks and armored vehicles to oppose a series of long-haired free lovers.

The 1971 May Day protests are a good point to start a text like this, as it comes at the end of a long period in leftist organizing and the beginning of another period—fragmented both in fact and in self-understanding. There was a push towards decentralization and against the idea of mass organization itself, which had been a major goal through the 60s. Shortly before the event, a Bay Area group wrote a text which would come to define the struggles of the 70s and 80s: Anti-MassIn Anti-Mass, the fragmentation of the Left’s unitary goals was a positive rather than a negative, an aspect of the subversion of mass society and the building of something else.

The book illustrated the mood of the times, which brings us back to the opposition between ‘real’ and ‘ideal’ histories: the period from the 70s to now is often viewed as merely a series of fragmented movements each aimed at supporting its own particular form of identity politics. These advocates for unity often call for some form of labor universalism, where a reborn union movement allows for a way out of the dismal situation we have now. This is another example of ‘ideal history’: it sees current affairs merely as a series of contemporaneous mistakes in theory, rather than as a situation that has evolved over a generation of organizing. In doing this, this workerist position understates both the difficulty of rebuilding a radical labor movement and the reasons that these identity movements had for working on their own.

Direct Action shows why women, people of color, and gay/lesbian people felt the need to work on their own through this period. For one, many of these movements had a patronizing view of people of color. The Anti-Nuclear Movement’s own guidebooks suggested that the reason for their movement’s blinding whiteness was due to the ignorance of black people of the importance of anti-militarism and the possibilities of nuclear warfare. These patronizing attitudes continued on despite the nominal anti-racism of 80s activism, with white organizations infamously requesting the assistance of black or Latino organizations with actions after they had already been planned.

The status of women within these movements was yet more circumspect. Even in the growing galaxy of black and Latino organizations, women were often treated as mere grunts, if not as sexual objects. In that context, the creation of groups such as the Combahee River Collective made perfect sense. For all the attacks on the ‘particularism’ of the period, what can be seen with a deeper look is not a shallow desire for fragmentation but real disagreements: between the ‘universal’ white man and the difference in his shadow, between the possibilities of industrial growth and the critique of its environmental costs. These differences were—and are—real, and the attempt to do away with them by pretending that they are the creations of mistaken theorists is utterly foolhardy.

Going beyond a discussion of what motivated the identitarian turn, Direct Action turns to discussing the strategies and tactics which came out of—and benefited from—this activist landscape. Affinity groups, once an insurrectionary form used to organize in a way which avoided police infiltration, turned into a way to utilize the diversity of radical spaces. Blockades, which were a major aspect of the early anti-nuclear movement as a nonviolent tactic, were refined through the Earth First! and anti-globalization years, becoming a major tactic of the Black Lives Matter movement.

Kauffman’s book shows one other major theme: the transition of the protest form from being a tactic used in certain situations to being a strategy in and of itself. The major battles of the New Left period occurred in marches and protests, and as early as 1980 there were questions of “who we were doing this for”. This question, asked during a feminist protest of the Pentagon, was answered in a way that would become common through the period into now: “We were doing it for ourselves”. With the slow surrender of the left’s goal of creating a counter-culture—and the slide of the left’s counter-cultural elements into subcultural ones)—this explanation increasingly represented a surrender, an acceptance that the Left was merely one subculture among many. As the 70s turned to the 80s, the Left’s knee-jerk willingness to protest often led it into costly clashes with the police, clashes which would strain the already rough relationship it had with non-white movements.

This focus on the general development of strategies and tactics allows Kauffman to avoid the usual problems of histories of this era, which often replicate the perceived fractured nature of the left by focusing on a single group or cause. This tends to lead to major gaps or abrupt stops when a group is dismantled or a cause takes a lower priority. However, there was far more continuity than fragmentation on the individual level, with the same people moving from cause to cause, developing their tactics with an aim towards building a movement which had a space not just for socialism but for feminism, anti-racism, and LGBT issues.

While they did not succeed, this is no reason to cast this whole generation of radicalism into darkness to not be looked upon or learned from. Despite and because of its failure, the New Left still has many lessons to teach us. These lessons cannot be imparted if we view the period as merely a series of failed experiments or through a series of limited intellectual perspectives. We need to expand our lens both within these groups by looking at them as something more than the struggles of a few individual leaders and intellectuals; and across these groups to understand that the New Left was not the fractured mess it is often depicted, but was rather a continuous period of a group of people who fought for a variety of causes.

Kauffman’s willingness to connect and analyze these ‘gaps’ in our knowledge has its flaws but is a crucial first step towards understanding the period. Direct Action’s flaws just show that we need to look deeper into this period, not just at the level of individual academics studying the thought of individual organizations or intellectuals, but analyzing the continuity between these groups across the whole spectrum of the period.

Any text which strives for greatness is inevitably going to be disappointing to some degree: disappointment comes from the ambition of a text more often than any specific failings. The ambition and realization at the center of Kaufman’s Direct Action—that there is a whole history of the left that has gone without systemic analysis—could never be achieved in any one book, let alone one that’s a lean 256 pages long. The thing that Direct Action left me wishing for in the end was a longer and more comprehensive text. In this, Kauffman achieves what she set out for: piquing interest in a period that remains understudied.

There are points where the gaps are particularly painful, though. For a text that seeks to show that even in the ‘gap years’ between movements there was still organizing being done by a series of people aiming at a fuller emancipatory project, it is painfully telling that the ten years between the anti-Iraq War protests and Occupy pass by in almost as many pages. Even if we accept that nothing was really going on, that ‘nothing’ is still massively significant.

As someone who came into activism at the end of the Bush years, you could feel the effects of that ‘nothing’ everywhere you went. I distinctly remember an utterly normal meeting where my college group was discussing absolutely abstract questions where, nonetheless, fully half of the older members felt the need to take their SIM cards out of their phones for fear of people listening in. Yes, this came partially out of the sense of self-importance activists usually have—but it also came from a paranoia kindled by the very real repression activists suffered during the Bush years. Groups did multiple things to try to ‘get around’ this, from the sense of paranoia I encountered in my time on the student left to attempts to moderate—either in fact or in a false way—through the use of front groups. Or they embraced this creeping sense of nihilism; the 90s and 00s were the heydays of the post-left. Regardless of the individual choices of groups, the repression of the Bush-era worked: both at the level of the base—in that we’re starting from essentially zero with contemporary attempts to organize—and at the level of the superstructure—where leftists are working from an utterly fragmented place. Even in the case of this ‘nothing’ that was the decade between September 11th, 2001 and September 17th, 2011, there are still things we can learn.

Although the text is titled Direct Action and is specifically about the tactics developed around direct actions, the book also opens up a massive space. Just as the direct action movements of the 70s-00s are under-analyzed, the mutual aid and cooperative movements of the same period receive no mention virtually anywhere—only rare sideways glances at them in texts not devoted to the topic. In David Graeber’s book of the same name, Graeber talks about the long and dramatic history of radical spaces and venues in New York City and their attempts to stay open in a rapidly gentrifying city. This history has had real effects but has been virtually destroyed through activist turnover and lack of interest. Nearly every city in the Northeastern United States has some form of a community center which is usually known by locals as a punk venue, and nearly every one of these community centers has either a radical history or is currently staffed by radicals. Yet if you asked those radicals about the history of the center, you can rarely get a straightforward answer. The same can be said for community gardens, a major focus for environmentally-focused groups in the 80s that could lead to conflicts with the nominal landowners or with developers. Those gardens that survived being transformed into luxury apartments are still with us today, and yet the radical history of these spaces we walk by day after day barely receives thought—let alone books.

The text also brings up another fault, this time not so much with the book itself as with the entirety of our studies of the New Left. The amount of nitty-gritty archival work done of these organizations is severely lacking, which is a large part of why the studies of these groups tend to come across as being relatively shallow. Compared to the movements of the last century, which have been sifted through and worked over, the small details of the decision-making processes of these groups are rarely explored—outside of hyper-specific texts like Graeber’s work of the same name. This kind of work is of relatively massive import: I would argue that archiving and secondary analysis of that archiving is one of the most important things that we can do on the left today. These little details are more than just trivia—they’re the foundation of actually building a plausible sense of what we can learn from these movements—how we can replicate the things that worked and avoid the things that didn’t. It’s literally impossible to ask this of the text without it transforming into a 5000-page compendium, but it brings up this frustration never the less.

This complete lack of history cannot be disconnected from—on the one hand—the short lifespans of your average activist organization, and—on the other—the consistent repression that these groups have faced. This lack of history still haunts us. When I said that the Left was starting from zero, that was only halfway right: we are now starting now from less than zero from the Bush years. While I believe the era of activism Direct Action covers has come to a close, we are still working with the tactics inherited from the period. Unlike the period from the 90s to the 00s, we are recycling these tactics without knowing their history.

Precisely because of this, Direct Action is an excellent start at surfacing a deeply under-analyzed history. It succeeds precisely in what it meant to do, with even the frustrations further cementing its importance. At its core, it asks us to direct our attention away from the imagined histories which can so easily be used to bracket the past and to look towards a real history with many lessons yet to give. For that, it deserves none but the highest praise.

How to Play with Fire: Electoral Politics in the Heart of Empire

Ira Pollock examines the difficulties of left electoral strategy regarding the question of imperialism and affirms the importance of upholding strong anti-imperialist principles in electoral campaigns. Otherwise, the left itself can become an arm of the imperialist state.

The Left on Elections

The issue of electoral politics has long divided the Left. In contemporary discourse, the most visible dispute concerns the proper strategy for conducting campaigns. Within the Democratic Party, centrists and left-leaners disagree over the best way to win elections: should the party press leftward and focus on working-class struggles, or appeal to a moderate base, win over fence-sitting independents, and snag Republican defectors? For them, it’s largely a matter of strategy.

As you move to its left fringes and beyond the Democratic Party, the conflict morphs into a question of what core principles leftists should compromise to take state power. For instance, one debate within the ranks of DSA hinges on whether the organization should require endorsees to take a hard stance against the occupation of Palestine. In other words, it’s a question of strategy versus principles.

But all of this is only the tip of the iceberg. To even accept the terms of these debates, one must hold a matrix of positions that are by no means orthodoxy on the Left. Many socialists balk at the prospect of spending limited capacity on elections in the first place. For these leftists, to participate in electoral politics is to already lose the struggle for working-class power, to engage with it on the wrong terrain.

Sophia Burns, an incisive theorist and practitioner of revolutionary politics, offers a compelling articulation of why “building institutions outside of the state and against it offers a more effective road to social power than protests and elections.” The issue cuts deeper than just the most effective way to build power. It concerns whether it’s even possible for the working class to take power through elections. Burns’s is one of the more thoughtful accounts of why it isn’t, but some leftists are less sophisticated in their analysis.

Consider the circulation on social media of the following Rosa Luxemburg quote, taken radically out of context to justify electoral abstentionism:

“The entry of a socialist into a bourgeois government is not, as it is thought, a partial conquest of the bourgeois state by the socialists, but a partial conquest of the socialist party by the bourgeois state.”

Once you get this far left, the electoral debate is no longer one of strategy or principle, but one of power and agency. The crux of the question boils down to this: can proletarian agency be developed through electoral campaigns? That is, can the working class, broadly defined, build power through elections?

Questions of Agency

The first part of the electoral question asks whether an elected official can actually make their own decisions while embedded within the state apparatus. Once elected, do the parameters of the game so determine and channel the actions of participants that their discretion vanishes? Do elected officials actually wield state power or are they simply interchangeable cogs in the state machinery? An optimistic answer to this question is a premise of electoral work, an assumption baked into the whole project.

The second question is whether an elected official can exercise specifically proletarian agency through the state. Can they exercise that agency as a proxy for the working class and oppressed? Or has their social position changed such that any action they take serves some facet of capital or empire? For electoral campaigns to build proletarian agency, they must be able to partially capture the state by embedding a proletarian agent (the elected official) within it and build proletarian power enough outside the state to hold the elected official accountable to the interests of the working class. The only alternative is to bank on the ongoing moral fortitude of the candidate. So, can the agency of elected officials be proletarian in nature? Socialist electoral politics presupposes an affirmative answer to this question.

Though it is by no means a given, let’s grant that elected officials maintain their agency and that they can act as agents of the proletariat. What new dynamic do they acquire by wielding state power? One thing is certain: by capturing a piece of the state, the power of a leftist acquires a new, imperialist dimension.

Alternative Practice

Returning to Burns’s point concerning alternatives to electoral politics, her preferred strategy is called base building. This approach to building power is gaining steam on the Left. DSA Refoundation Caucus explains base building as follows:

Base building means constructing stable institutions that can bind our base together [by] building roots in the day-to-day fights of the broadest layer of the working class and oppressed…This means far more than just being able to move people to the polls. It means being able to move entire workplaces, neighborhoods, and campuses into fights on a day-to-day basis.

Refoundation does not explicitly oppose electoral politics but does favor an approach that builds working-class power independent of elected officials and outside state channels.

Sophia Burns identifies base building as one of four tendencies on the Left. These tendencies are 1) government socialists, 2) protest militants, 3) expressive hobbyists, and 4) base builders. These tendencies generally coexist and overlap within the same organization, but the schema is useful; it roughly coincides with different analyses of power and how to build proletarian agency. Electoral politics is the bread-and-butter of government socialists. It is, almost by definition, what they do.

Anti-imperialism exists within all of these tendencies. A promising example of such work within the base-building paradigm is the Tech Workers Coalition and its efforts to purge tech companies of Pentagon and ICE contracts. Another compelling example, one that incorporates aspects of both protest militancy and base building, was the 2008 dockworkers strikes, a show of structural power to demand an end to the U.S. occupation of Iraq.

Among these four tendencies, government socialism is unique in regards to the question of imperialism. Unlike the other three, successful government socialism, at least at the national level, endows its practitioners with an imperialist dimension to their agency. It gives them a seat at the table of global empire. Without great care, electoral work can turn leftists into actual, practicing imperialists.

Agency of Empire

Imperialism isn’t, strictly speaking, a capitalist endeavor. Capitalism often drives empire, but imperialist domination is not unique to capitalism; it is unique to statehood. The logic of capital accumulation and the logic of imperial expansion are often intertwined, though not identical. States of all types, capitalist and non-capitalist alike, have engaged in modern projects of imperialism. Accordingly, being anti-capitalist doesn’t necessarily entail being anti-imperialist. However, being a socialist does.

Socialism is intrinsically anti-imperialist because it is intrinsically internationalist.  Marx declared “Workers of the world unite,” not just workers in the core of empire. The proletariat can’t be free as long as it is under the yoke of the bourgeoisie or of an imperial oppressor. Accordingly, when playing the game of state entryism, being anti-capitalist isn’t enough. We must oppose empire if we are to sit at its helm.

By entering into the state apparatus, a candidate necessarily takes on a role in the operations of Empire. A federal politician must regularly decide how the world’s primary imperialist state acts on the global stage. From controlling military spending to authorizing new presidential war-making powers, it’s part of the job to make decisions with an intrinsic imperial dynamic. Nowhere else does a successful campaign endow leftists with the power to serve as architects of empire. Dockworkers can block shipments of munitions. Tech workers can pressure their employers to drop Pentagon contracts. In these spaces, leftists can be anti-imperialists, but they can’t accidentally take the reigns of empire and wage imperialist wars. When candidates in national campaigns succeed, they do gain this power. Where a weak commitment to internationalist principles might make poor socialists of other leftists, it makes active imperialists of elected officials.

Rules for Electoral Practice in the Core of Empire

To qualify for an endorsement from a leftist organization such as DSA, a candidate in a U.S. election should commit to internationalist principles. Particularly at the federal level, where a successful candidates agency can acquire an imperial dimension, this should be the top priority. Leftists can organize for other priorities at other levels of government and through alternative avenues without directly confronting the question of empire. At the federal level, the question is front and center.

At a bare minimum, when vetting potential national candidates, organizers should ask for an express commitment to anti-imperialism and to opposing U.S. wars. Any federal-level candidate that declines to make such a commitment should be disqualified from endorsement considerations.

A second level of vetting should concern specific issues. Does the candidate support eliminating military aid to Israel until it ends the occupation of Palestine? Does the candidate support legislation to end U.S. involvement in the Saudi war on Yemen? Does the candidate support a drastic reduction in military spending? Does the candidate support revoking the president’s authorization to wage the War on Terror indefinitely? For national-level candidates, the answers to these questions should be weighted at least as heavily as to those concerning domestic issues such as Medicare for All and housing.

Finally, and this is good practice for sub-national candidates and on domestic issues as well, consult the candidate’s record (if they have one). For federal candidates, closely scrutinize their record on foreign policy. Did they vote to authorize the invasion of Iraq? Have they voted to fund the occupation on an ongoing basis? Have they voted to increase the military budget? Did they vote in favor of a resolution to recognize Jerusalem as Israel’s capital? This record, if it exists, should be weighted more heavily than the candidates professed values. A federal candidate that has consistently supported military adventures, an expanded Pentagon budget, colonial repression overseas, or any number of other imperialist projects, should not receive leftist support regardless of their stated principles or credentials on domestic issues.

These guidelines should be a bare minimum for socialists practicing electoral politics in the heart of Empire. We cannot sacrifice the lives and dignity of those outside our borders for the sake of domestic priorities. Electoral socialists are playing with fire; they run the unique risk of becoming imperialists by virtue of their success. They must take this danger seriously. Medicare for All in the U.S. is not a victory if we must wage genocide in the Middle East to get it. Let’s not burn the world down to warm our home.