Ending the Eternal Present: A Historical Materialist Account of the 1970s

The 1970s were a time of turmoil and transition. Connor Harney gives a Marxist account of this pivotal decade.   

Stephen Spielberg’s Jaws (1975)

Nostalgia for the Past

As we enter a new decade that will inevitably wear the birthmarks of the last, it seems of utmost importance to reflect on the current trajectory of the left in the United States. There are many reasons to both lament the state of the left in the U.S. and to remain hopeful of its potential. While it is uncertain if the current popularity of socialism, the upswing in labor militancy across 2018 and 2019, and Bernie Sanders’ 2020 presidential run will provide a foundation for a lasting movement that will outlast the current electoral cycle, the seeds do seem to be there. At the same time, it is not enough to expect them to sprout on their own. The seeds of the emergent socialist movement must be tended to, and must be provided an environment where they can flourish. For us, this means that we must not limit our study to the fertile grounds of revolutionary history. It is not enough to just survey 1789, 1871, 1917, 1959, or 1968, and imagine that it is only those moments that can help plot the path forward. 

First of all, this approach often leads to a politically determined position that ignores the economic conditions of those moments, and second, it assumes that revolution is just around the corner—an understandably optimistic assumption that in the long term douses the flames of youthful militancy and burns out even the most committed. Even so, it is still wrong to outright dismiss the revolutionary potential of the moment the way that many on the social-democratic left often do. Socialists, communists, and others on the radical left should be at the same time prepared for both immediate insurrection and the slow process of movement building: be it by preparing the ground for a new working-class party or by rebuilding and forging new trade unions and other organizations of proletarian solidarity. In doing so, we can ensure that Santiago and Paris are not just burned to the ground over a repressed discontent with the status quo.  

Our frustration should be channeled towards rebuilding these cities in our own image out of the ashes. Many within the embryonic socialist left, especially within the “democratic socialists”, but also among the purportedly more radical trends like Marxist-Leninists or Trotskyists look to the period of the 1930s and 1940s to draw inspiration from. In particular, they look at the New Deal and welfare states constructed contemporaneously in Europe, and arguably the Soviet bloc as well, and focus on the social leveling and the higher standard of living for working people as an aspiration in a time of absurd levels of wealth inequality. The sentiment seems to be “if it worked then, it can work now.” But good Marxists should always be uneasy applying the traditions of the past whole cloth to the present. As Marx famously quipped in the Eighteenth Brumaire, “men make their own history, but they do not make it as they please.”1 

The specific conditions that allowed radicals to push for reforms to the capitalist order are entirely different from those present at the current moment. When the pieces of legislation that made up the New Deal were passed, the left was at the peak of its strength and was acting in the context of a worldwide depression that grounded capitalist economies to a halt—alongside the memory of the October Revolution which still haunted the minds of the ruling class like a waking nightmare. Casting aside the question of whether a Green New Deal or Medicare for All is possible under current conditions, we should ask instead whether or not such reforms are enough? The answer to such a question is to be found not in the period of the New Deal or Great Society programs, but in the crises of the 1970s that created and forged the current moment. It was at this moment that the limits of those reforms were made clear. Not only was the dilemma of stagflation unthinkable from the standpoint of Keynesian orthodoxy, the doctrine’s salve no longer healed the wounds of the U.S. economy. 

In order to grapple with that period, we need to complicate the well-tread intellectual history of Hayek and Friedman that is so often trotted out in order to explain the rise of neoliberalism. As the story usually goes, by the 1980s, the conservative movement had succeeded in its long war to erode the social peace that made up the postwar consensus, and in the subsequent turmoil managed to implement its agenda of privatization and tax cuts proposed by Friedmanites. While part of this may be true, it is not the whole story. To this idealist conception of historical development, E.J. Hobsbawm once wrote that historians should remember that ideas “cannot for more than a moment be separated from the ways in which men get their living and their material environment [… because …] their relations with one another are expressed and formulated in language which implies concepts as soon as they open their mouths.”2  

Rather than assume that neoclassical economics created the current moment, the more important line of inquiry should be as follows: how did the crisis of the postwar pact between capital and labor and the Keynesian consensus produce the conditions that allowed previously marginal ideas to become hegemonic not only at the commanding heights of the economy, but even among the working class themselves? Written in May of this year for the Correspondent, Dutch historian Rutger Bregman’s article “The neoliberal era is ending. What comes next?” perfectly encapsulates such a view of the past. He correctly diagnoses the cracks in the facade of neoliberalism but does so starting from a faulty premise. Bregman takes the architects of neoliberal economic thinking at their own word, without accounting for the process by which their thinking went from marginal to common sense. He cites Milton Friedman’s view that in times of crisis, “ideas that are lying around” are picked up if the “proper groundwork” has “been laid.”3 But what groundwork? And why is it that certain ideas are picked up over others? Bregman claims that over the course of the crises of the 1970s “spread from think tanks to journalists and from journalists to politicians, infecting people like a virus.”4 He does not try to explain the crises, nor address why the old Keynesian medicine could not cure its patient any longer, but in his description of how neoliberal ideas became hegemonic we find our answer. For him, in society there is a battle of ideas over who can best explain the world, and to the victors goes the spoils of the material world, that is until their ideas no longer make sense. But hidden in his word is the class explanation for the ideas that get picked up. Think tanks, journalists, and politicians do not by and large represent the working class, particularly in the United States where there has never even been a labor party. Instead, the contest of ideas described here is largely between elements of the ruling class in an attempt to consolidate its own position in a time of crisis. 

Later in the piece, Bregman begins to wonder who will be the progenitors of the new economic ideology, suggesting the names of Thomas Piketty, Emanuel Saez, Gabriel Zucman, or Marian Mazzucato. What these thinkers have in common is a desire to return to higher tax rates and more government regulation, believing that those policies could reverse high levels of income inequality and restore economic growth by putting more in the pockets of everyday people. Piketty is an interesting choice, as his first book Capital in the 21st Century was a lightning rod of admiration and controversy when it was released. In it he documents the trend toward higher inequality since the 1970s, offering politics as the solution to the problems of the economy. His latest book, Capital and Ideology is an attempt to bridge the gap between his prescriptions and how they might be practically realized. 

In a review of Capital and Ideology, liberal commentator and economist Paul Krugman claims the book can be described as “turning Marx on his head.”5 According to Krugman: 

In Marxian dogma, a society’s class structure is determined by underlying, impersonal forces, technology and the modes of production that technology dictates. Piketty, however, sees inequality as a social phenomenon, driven by human institutions. Institutional change, in turn, reflects the ideology that dominates society: ‘Inequality is neither economic nor technological; it is ideological and political.’6

For Piketty, the dominant ideology of a given time is created by ‘ruptures’ that can be used as “switch points” by a “few people” to “cause a lasting change in society’s trajectory.”7 A few people? Piketty himself perhaps? What Krugman misses in his explanation of Marxian orthodoxy, is that the relationship of the forces of production to society is not a one to one reflection. In fact, technology itself is shaped by the relations of production, which include within them the ideology necessary to reproduce society as is, and in the case of capitalism, its continued expansion. By turning Marx on his head in this way, we do not even get Hegel, who in his own way had a materialist conception of history. Instead, we get a view of a society unmoored from its material basis, one in which politics is merely a discursive exercise in figuring out the best way to do things, the cream of the intellectual crop will float to the top. 

To go back to Bregman, his theory of change very much aligns with that of Piketty: someone thinks of an idea and it gets put into practice. He claims “that the way we conceive of activism tends to forget the fact that we all need different roles.”8 Instead, he believes some tend to focus on the work of grassroots mobilization, others on that of high-profile leaders, while still others struggle over whether to protest or begin “the long march through the institutions.” Bregman argues that we must remember that this is not “how change works.” “All of these people,” from Occupy protesters to “lobbyists who set out for Davos,” have their roles.9 The message seems to be that only if people remember their place, then our society could see progress.  Leave it to the Pikettys and the Krugmans of the world to figure out the problems of the world, to bring the stone tablet solutions down from the mount, but it is for those in the street to spread the good word. From this conception, the question remains: After the long line of world-historic crises faced in only the first two decades of the 21st century, why do people reject the sermons of our new economic high priests? Partly, I think this can be attributed to people’s rightful perception that these thinkers themselves offer no real plan to deal with the present. Their role is to project the programs of the past to our current circumstances without dealing with the failings of the New Deal project in the first place: a shortcut for young people desperate to attend to the alienation of their own lives and the imminent climate crisis facing the planet.  

Source: CCC–Third Corps Area (PA, MD, VA, DC), Poultry Raising Project, Co. 2380, Jonesville, Virginia, 1933, Franklin D. Roosevelt Presidential Library & Museum.

From this inability or unwillingness to deal with the flaws in their own conceptions of the New Deal horizon we arrive at two faulty assumptions. Firstly, that if left unhindered by the machinations of the Right, those working today, the children and grandchildren of the greatest generation, would find themselves working the “three-hour shifts” or the “fifteen-hour work week” that Keynes famously predicted.10 Flowing from the first comes the second assumption: namely that the economic crises of the 1970s were entirely political in nature, be it the consequence of oil shocks or the lack of political will necessary to take the steps required toward full employment. The secret to the peaceful transition from capitalism had already been cracked—it was only a matter of putting in the right people to implement it. Setting aside the logical problem of a political strategy that requires no opposition to realize, both of these presuppositions fail to deal with the real political-economic problems of the Fordist era. From the widespread discontentment and alienation of a consumer society still predicated on the production of value and the increasing inability of the capitalist basis of society to cash the check of promised affluence for all those who toil. 

Nostalgia of the Past 

It was not only those living at the time that were unable to resolve these contradictions inherent to the postwar consensus. Even now, there are those who continue to either outright ignore the problems inherent to that political-economic arrangement. They do so, by either refusing to see that economic order as a problem at all, or at best, they are ignorant of its history. By doing so, they help to maintain the marginal position of the left by sustaining an unfounded nostalgia over a progressive program. 

This longing for a bygone era of increased possibility for a segment of the working class is not new to the twentieth-first century. It began as soon as the cracks in the old order were beginning to have ramifications in the daily lives of working people. It is no wonder then, that in the last few years Christopher Lasch has seen a resurgence in currency among some circles within the radical left. Lasch was a witness to the unraveling of social solidarity and the rise of a “culture of narcissism,” and understandably lamented the “logic of individualism” carried to “to the extreme of all against all,” in which “the pursuit of happiness” became “the dead-end of narcissistic preoccupation with the self.”11 As a historian and preeminent critic of society, he identified atomization as the ill that ailed Americans as the turbulent 1970s drew to close. This diagnosis brought Lasch to discover the solipsistic self-awareness that informed the condition of postmodernity. He writes in the Culture of Narcissism

Distancing soon becomes a routine in its own right. Awareness commenting on awareness creates an escalating cycle of self-consciousness that inhibits spontaneity. It intensifies the feeling of inauthenticity that rises in the first place out of resentment against the meaningless roles prescribed by modern industry. Self-created roles become as constraining as the social roles from which they are meant to provide ironic detachment.12 

Yet, his critique of this form of disassociation offers no way out of the endless spiral of the self he describes. Instead, what little solace Lasch does offer was a romanization of the past that ultimately led him to the dead end of fetishizing the patriarchal family.13 

Source: David Levine, 1991, Christopher Lasch, New York Review of Books.

Still, Lasch’s description of a society in decay is not without value for the left. Indeed, even his intuition that the history could offer a sense of hope for the future can be salvaged sans the rose-colored and romantic relationship to the past, for “a denial of the past, superficially progressive and optimistic, proves on closer analysis to embody the despair of a society that cannot face the future.”14 Andreas Killen, a historian obviously influenced by a Lasch’s unique brand of history infused with both a sociological and psychological analysis, has more recently characterized 1973 as a collective “nervous breakdown” from which the United States never recovered. Echoing the concern of forgetting the past, Killen writes that the inability to grapple with the malaise that infected the American psyche after the failure of 1968 exists even to the present. 

In a certain sense, he is correct. The revolution that the New Left envisioned never came to fruition, and without the power to transform the material basis of society in the United States, the concern became the realm of culture.15 Yet, what this analysis misses, is that the revolutionary moment was not simply reacting to the remaining vestiges of de jure racism and sexism. As the 1960s progressed it became clear that it was necessary to not only dismantle the juridical apparatus of oppression but also to remove the levers of exploitation that the capitalist left firmly engaged. What many did not foresee, however, was the drying up of the material conditions that had made mass politics possible in the first place.    

This inability to understand the contours of a changing political-economic constitution of late capitalism underpinned not just their moment, but also the current one. Killen contends, “the crises of the 1970s are not so easily buried; indeed they have emerged with new intensity in our time.”16 The historiography of the 1970s has grown immensely since Killen penned 1973 Nervous Breakdown in the first decade of the new millennium, and within the wider historiography of the United States the decade has gone from marginal to what Judith Stein called a “pivotal decade.” This essay seeks to flesh out a historical materialist analysis of the 1970s in order to add to the ongoing debate over the political-economic trajectory of the second half of the twentieth century, not to provide a roadmap to a socialism, but rather to point out the assumptions that led to the political cul-de-sacs informing left debates for more than half of a century—be it through imagining a return to the politics of the New Deal, or for the more radical left, a return to the Popular Front of the 1930s.

Past the Post-Industrial Society

The historian Jefferson Cowie, has argued for years that the New Deal was “the Great Exception” to the American national project. While there are components of his arguments that may be overstated, there is a truth to the overall content of his message.  These thirty golden years of American capitalism may have stoked a small, but long-standing spirit of egalitarianism in the United States. At the same time, it is ultimately a footnote in the larger national project, and yet, so much of the popular image of the country emerged from this moment. Even the political and cultural norms we observe now were shaped by this aberrational moment. Indeed, part of the inability with those living through the breakdown of New Deal order was the assumption that the good times were here to stay, that the pact between labor and capital would last forever, and that the perceived mutually-beneficial relationship would continue to produce mutual gains for all.  

Source: Feng Li, Workers assemble children’s bicycle wheels at a factory in Jiangsu, China, 2012, Getty Images.

In his introduction to Labor in the Twentieth Century, former labor secretary for the Ford administration and labor economist John T. Dunlop called the twentieth century “the worker’s century.” His misplaced but understandable optimism was part of the ideological fog that shrouded the postwar compact’s breakdown. Written in 1978, as the seams were really beginning to unravel around Keynesian orthodoxy, he could still say that any “reader of this volume must conclude that the twentieth century is likely to be known as the century of the worker or of the employee in advanced democratic societies,” and further that, “the first three-quarters of the century provide a desirable frame of reference to consider the course of development out to the year 2000.”17

While Dunlop and Galenson’s volume is billed as a comparative work, looking at the trajectories of a handful of advanced industrial economies, more often than not it falls prey to an analysis of Keynesianism in one country. That is, it bases itself on the assumption that redistributive welfare state and regulatory apparatus can rely on the industry of its own country to provide the material basis for those policies to operate. Only four years later, another set of labor economists wrote in their predictions for the future of the field that:

it is likely that the current awareness of the effects of world-wide competition, the interdependence of national economies, and the popularized comparisons of differences in national systems of industrials and management process will further spur in comparative and international industrial relations research.18

Clearly, the encroachment of the global on the national became something that could not be ignored even by those invested in maintaining the conventions of the old order. Or, to put in Marxist terms, if national economies are like giant cartels, they must compete with one another due to the coercive laws of competition, which in the long term to push them to increase the productivity of labor through either investment in more advanced techniques of production or the increased level of exploitation of labor through suppressing wages or increasing the working day. Such an impulse could not be contained as the United States’ global dominance eroded: a result of a shrinking advantage in productive capacity, which also underpinned its ability to maintain a stable international credit system. 

Part of this is what historian Judith Stein argues in her seminal work Pivotal Decade. Where she diverges from a certain Marxist reading of events is clear from her book’s subtitle: How the United States Traded Factories for Finance in the Seventies. For Stein, the political class’ inability to protect manufacturing in the United States was the downfall of America’s detour into social democracy. In her view, these jobs were not just any jobs, but productive labor that allowed a large portion of the working population to live “the good life.” The book’s final chapter deals with the current “age of inequality” born out of this failure to maintain the economic hegemony of the United States. In it she prescribes a revival of manufacturing.  According to Stein, “as long Americans use computers, wear clothes, drive autos, build with steel, play video games—in short, do everything,” there will be a need for someone to do the work, and for that reason, the explosion of debt-fueled consumption in the years following the crisis of the 1970s reflect a society in which “Americans consumed these items but did not make enough of them.”19

What Stein overlooks, is that manufacturing was not simply outsourced, it was also automated. Fewer workers are required to oversee the production of the coats, chairs, cars, and computers that are a part of daily life in the modern world. At the same time, her view also reduces hundreds of millions of people in the world to merely unproductive vagabonds leeching off the work of those doing those “making things.” 

Setting aside the first point of automation, the question of productive labor within the world economy is an important one. In the often ignored second volume of Capital, Marx discusses the importance of the work that goes into both maintaining and transporting commodities, which, if nothing else, is the work of the grocery clerk, the long-haul trucker, the fast-food worker, and the Amazon warehouse worker. He writes: 

Within every production process, the change of location of the object of labor and the means of labor and labor-power needed for this plays a major role; for instance, cotton that is moved from the carding shop into the spinning shed, coal lifted from the pit to the surface. The transfer of the finished product as a finished commodity from one separate place of production to another a certain distance away shows the same phenomenon, only on a larger scale. The transport of products from one place of production to another is followed by that of the finished products from the sphere of production to the sphere of consumption. The product is ready for consumption only when it has completed this movement.20

In other words, for the modern consumer to enjoy their Big Mac, watch Netflix, or read the newest novel by their favorite, labor is required to not only produce goods but to transport and maintain them. Crucial to this circulation of commodities across the country, and more broadly the globe, is physical infrastructure like roads, cellphone towers, and electrical lines—all of which are run or maintained by any army of workers who ensure their continuous movement. In concrete terms, as important as the papermill, the slaughterhouse, and the factory, are the warehouse, the freight companies, and the restaurant. While there may be a kernel of truth to Stein’s argument about a decline in productive work, what Stein’s work shows more than anything else is the limits to a strictly national labor movement and the attempt to reform capitalism within the borders of one country. The highly-centralized business unions within AFL-CIO proved outmoded against increasingly decentralized and international corporations. In a word, interdependence carried the day, and the old ways of organizing proved incapable of withstanding its onslaught.21

On the other side, there are many that have cheered on the decline in manufacturing in the United States, extolling the virtues of the so-called post-industrial society—a term popularized by sociologist Daniel Bell in his work The Coming of the Post-Industrial Society published in 1974. In the same year, Harry Braverman, metalworker and long-time editor of Monthly Review Press challenged this vision of the future, claiming in his agitational magnum-opus Labor and Monopoly Capital that such a view represented another in long line of “economic theories which assigned the most productive role to the particular form of labor that was most important or growing most rapidly at the time,” but in the last analysis, he suggests, each form of labor peacefully coexists “as recorded in balance sheets” of multinational corporations.22 Most importantly, rather than a decline in the application of Taylorism to the world of work, the rise of the service economy represented its universalization. As a truck team member at a major grocery chain, his description of “a revolution…now being prepared which will make of retail workers, by and large, something closer to factory operatives than anyone had every imagined possible,” is no longer one possible path of the historical development of the forces and relations of production, but rather a foregone conclusion, at least in that segment of the service economy.23

Braverman’s unique conception of deskilling flows from this notion of scientific management’s universal application. With the proliferation of white-collars jobs over blue-collar jobs in manufacturing, there is often the assumption that increased requirements of education and the more technology is applied to accomplish workers’ daily tasks on the job the more skilled the overall workforce, but what Braverman contends is: 

The more science is incorporated into the labor process, the less the worker understands of the process; the more sophisticated an intellectual product the machine becomes, the less control and comprehensions of the machine the worker has. In other words, the more the worker needs to know in order to remain a human being at work, the less does he or she know.24

For example, ask someone whose job it is to stock the shelves at the local grocery store how what they are stocking gets to the store and how the store knows to order it, chances are the response will be a blank stare—not due to any lack of intelligence on the part of the worker—but rather, because of the complexity of daily life under the modern division of labor mediated by network technology. 

Such a state of affairs cannot help but help alienate the working class from one another. Not only do they become a cog in the giant machine of global capital, but they also can no longer imagine how their own movement has an effect on the other gears. While Braverman rightfully dismissed the sociologists and other academics whose sole focus was studying this alienation over the objective conditions of work experienced by workers over the course of their careers, their scholarship can help highlight how those conditions are then experienced on a psychological level. 

After years of successive strike waves, culminating in 1971 as the most active year for the labor movement since the militant heyday of the 1930s, 1940s, and 1950s, the Nixon administration commissioned a Special Task Force to create a report on “work in America” for then Secretary of Health, Education, and Welfare Elliot Richardson.25 From the report, the administration would catch a glimpse into the lives of working people in order to get them back to work, or so they thought. Unfortunately for them, the results pointed to no easy answer, or at least to none within the framework of the postwar compact. The only solutions gestured either out of capitalism or towards the past, before the 1935 passage of the Wagner Act, which laid the ground for both a new kind of labor struggle and eventually paved the way for a labor truce.  The report analyzes the problems of the “blue-collar blues,” “white-collar woes,” and the conflicts brought on by the increasing diversification of the workforce. According to the report, the blue-collar blues was not simply tied to traditional bread and butter issues like wages and benefits, but also to “[workers’] self-respect, a chance to perform well in his work, a chance for personal achievement and growth in competence, and a chance to contribute something personal and unique to his work.”26 This sort of alienation was not limited to blue-collar workers, but also was there for white-collar workers: 

The office today, where work is segmented and authoritarian, is often a factory. For a growing number of jobs, there is little to distinguish them but the color of the worker’s collar: computer keypunch operations and typing pools share much in common with the automobile assembly-line.27

Clearly, the unraveling of the New Deal was not simply a question of “diminishing expectations” in the face of economic decline, but its terms became increasingly untenable from the physical and psychological toll wrought by the spread of scientific management to each sector of the American economy. 

Bruce Springsteen captures this disillusionment with the old promise of the American dream in his song “Factory” from his 1978 album Darkness on the Edge of Town. In it, he describes the Faustian bargain faced by American workers as he sees his “daddy walking through the factory gates in the rain,” that “factory takes his hearing, factory gives him life.” To emphasize the truly one-sided nature of the deal, Springsteen sings that at the “end of the day, factory whistle cries/men walk through these gates with death in their eyes.”28 Like many working-class baby boomers, Springsteen had seen the way that the wear and tear of a lifetime of monotonous toil could wrack working people with an overwhelming sense of emptiness alongside the physical debilitation that often comes with manual labor. As the 1970s progressed into the 1980s, material decline faced by workers created a new reason for anxiety. In spite of this harrowing reality, it is important to highlight the problem of romanticizing the affluent society that came before our own neoliberal moment. Despite less precarity, there was still powerlessness felt in the face of the growing power of faceless multinationals to structure the daily lives of millions of people both in the workplace and the marketplace.

The Planning System and Monopoly Capitalism

This process by which the world became one colossal factory and market was experienced as deindustrialization in many advanced industrial economies. As the massive skyscrapers, factories, hospitals, schools, bridges, and feats of engineering, built by the hands of workers, decayed and fell into disrepair, there was little they could do. They may have made them, but they did not own them.  To offer the words of Marx in the Grundrisse: “the condition that the monstrous objective power which social labor itself erected opposite itself as one of its moments belongs not to the worker, but…to capital.”29 

Despite the monstrosity of a world increasingly alien to those who make their way in it, it should not be assumed that the great mass of people cannot overturn the existing order of things—that the monster cannot be slain. As the giants of the postwar era, like Ford, IBM, and General Electric began to dominate more and more aspects of everyday life, there came a tendency to view these monopoly monsters as invulnerable to the traditional foes of the individual firm within the capitalist system. Indicative of this perspective and informing much of the thinking on monopoly capital in the postwar was the work of economists like J.K. Galbraith, particularly in his work the New Industrial State first published in 1967. Here he attempts to illuminate the transformations of the capitalist system in the twentieth century, arguing that the conditions of free competition and exchange ceased to underpin the existing social relations within capitalism. Of course, from the standpoint of a critique of political economy, such relations never truly existed in the first place, except maybe in the utopian dreams of liberal partisans during the eighteenth and nineteenth century. As Marx wrote in the Manifesto, the bourgeoisie: 

drowned the most heavenly ecstasies of religious fervour, of chivalrous enthusiasm, of philistine sentimentalism, in the icy water of egotistical calculation. It has resolved personal worth into exchange value, and in place of the numberless indefeasible chartered freedoms, has set up that single, unconscionable freedom – Free Trade.30

They made a world in which naked, shameless, direct, brutal exploitation” replaced an exploitation “veiled by religious and political illusions,” but at the same time, this very exploitation “accomplished wonders far surpassing Egyptian pyramids, Roman aqueducts, and Gothic cathedrals.”31 Utopian dream indeed, but only for those lucky enough to find themselves outside the ranks of the proletarians whose muscle and blood built this wondrous new world. Eventually, free competition and exchange became a watchword, part of a new veil forged to cover the nightmares created for the mass of society in realizing their bourgeois dreams. A new mystification for a new age. 

Most important to understanding Galbraith’s contribution to political economy is an analysis of what he calls the “Planning System.” For him, the “Planning System” was a patchwork of the largest corporations in the U.S. economy, all working in concert to coordinate costs of production through a relationship to the state. In a certain way, Galbraith’s analysis aligns with conception of monopoly capital put forward by Marxists Paul Baran and Paul Sweezy in their work Monopoly Capital: An Essay on the American Economic and Social Order, released only a year before the New Industrial State. If the tendency of global capitalism before World War II had been toward regular crises, then the postwar period can only be described as infinitely more stable. Both works attempted to explain this relative stability against the behavior of the capitalist system over the previous century and the beginning of the twentieth—behavior that helped bring about not only nearly thirty years of near-constant warfare—but also two world-historic revolutions which attempted to break with the very system that brought such destruction and misery into the world. 

Source: Keith Ploeck, 2014, Mental Floss.

According to Galbraith, the “Planning System” arose out of the need to mitigate the uncertainty by ensuring continued profits alongside the rapid expansion of production. This growth was predicated on the application of increasingly complex technology. In turn, this meant a growing portion of a company’s capital had to be tied up in maintaining old and researching new technology. Part of this cost, as Baran and Sweezy also noted, was offset by state spending on both public research and government contracts, but ultimately, to ensure a return on these investments in technology, companies created massive advertising apparatuses that shaped the desires and wants of the consumer. Of course, such an operation could not be sustained without recourse to planning, and Galbraith believed that this forecasting replaced market mechanisms in determining what the cost of production and final price of commodities would be. While this “Planning System” may have stabilized capitalism to a degree, he worried that “we are becoming servants in thought and in action of the machine we have created to serve us.”32

On the one hand, Galbraith’s preoccupation with planning helped him see through the ideological mist of American society, where “the ban on the use of the word planning excluded reflection on the reality of planning.” However, his tendency to see planning as purely the necessary outgrowth of the size and level of technology of a particular firm tended to obscure the role of competition in determining the need for planning.33 While Galbraith acknowledged that technology was employed in order for firms to compete with one another—planning could, in the final analysis, eliminate a particular market altogether. This line of thinking brought him to two conclusions, the first that “size is the general servant of technology, not the special servant of profits,” and second, that “the enemy of the market is not ideology but the engineer.”34

The idea that the growth and complexity of capitalist society created an antimony between engineers and other technical experts and market interests was not new. More than a quarter-century before, heterodox economist and sociologist Thorstein Veblen came to a similar conclusion. But rather than decry the power of the engineer over production in industrial society, he welcomed it as a great mediator.35 This “general staff of industry” as he called them would settle the dispute between capital and labor for good. This was necessary for two reasons: first, the complexity of the industrial system (very similar to Galbraith’s planning system) meant that it could no longer be run by non-experts, and second, too large a community outside of capital and labor were dependent on that system to allow one side to work toward their vested interests alone. Veblen believed that engineers could continue running the industrial system in the interests of the community as a whole, rather than from their own narrow interests. In The Engineers and the Price System, he wrote that he believed that they would soon realize their ability to oversee society for the greater good. As the role of engineers and professional experts grew exponentially in society, they were “beginning to understand that commercial expediency has nothing better to contribute to the engineer’s work than so much lag, leak, and friction.”36 Further, “they are accordingly coming to understand that the whole fabric of credit and corporation finance is a tissue of make-believe.”37

But of course, fantasy has long driven civilizations to action, even the immaterial can have objective consequences. This is what Marx meant when there was a “phantom-like objectivity” to the value of a commodity.38 While the marks of the socially necessary labor time imbued in a commodity may not be readily apparent, that it has been worked by human hands is understood. Along with that understanding, is that of a whole host of corresponding social practices that allow such an abstract principle to order human affairs. At the same time, Veblen was correct to point out that technology applied to production was constrained by the relations of production, of the need to maintain private ownership, and the corresponding profit motive, but that tension exists does not mean that it will be worked out. Particularly, if there is no revolutionary rupture with the old order of things, which he believed not only unnecessary but an unwanted obstruction to the industrial system. For him, the success of the Bolsheviks was what had simultaneously made their situation so difficult. The fact that Russia was technologically backward meant that the: “Russian community is able, at a pinch, to draw its own livelihood from its own soil by its own work, without that instant and unremitting dependence on materials and wrought goods drawn from foreign ports and distant regions.”39

In the case of an advanced industrial society like the United States, such a revolution was undesirable for the inverse reason: dependence on the industrial system meant that disrupting its function would lead to widespread deprivation and misery. Instead, Veblen believed there would eventually be a bloodless coup by engineers, after capitalists “eliminate themselves, by letting go quite involuntarily” as “the industrial situation gets beyond their control.”40 In doing so, he underestimated the lengths that capital would go in holding on to their interests and just how complex industrial society would become. The increasingly complicated division of both mental and manual meant that even a vanguard of engineers and experts could not manage the whole system alone.  Eventually, this process would erode their relative independence from either the capitalist class or the working class by pulling them toward one pole or another.41

 Much like Veblen, in an ironic twist of fate, Galbraith the economist came to the position that economics no longer mattered. Rather, the conquest of political power by monopolies had, and would, determine the future of American society. By separating the political from the economic, rather than view them as two sides of the same co-determined coin, he assumed that one could continuously dominate the other, rather than engage with each other in a dialectical back and forth. This view that monopolies could disembed themselves from the dictates of the market has not gone anywhere. In fact, it was central to the argument of Leigh Phillips and Michal Rozworski’s popular book the People’s Republic of Walmart that made the rounds across a number of different left groups and tendencies. Phillips and Rozworski present a full-throated socialist defense of planning in the People’s Republic of Walmart, highlighting the prominence of firms like Walmart and Amazon, whose very success, they argue, is predicated on their tendency to eliminate as much uncertainty as possible through complex planning systems. 

The authors acknowledge that “the real world is often one of messy disequilibrium, of prices created by fiat rather than from the competitive ether,” but still “remains one where markets determine much of our economic, and thereby social life.” Unfortunately, their conception of firms as “islands of  tyranny” reinforces the notion that these massive companies can remove themselves from the sea of market competition.42  To put in Marxist terms, these firms are somehow able to ignore the law of value through their application of central planning. Much like Braverman’s critique of postindustrial society as overemphasizing the growth sector of the economy, a similar criticism can be leveled at Phillips and Rozworksi for focusing too much on the ascendant firms of the twenty-first century. Amazon and Walmart may be economic juggernauts now, but no one can know what the march of history has in store for them in the long term. When Galbraith wrote the New Industrial State in 1967, he seemed very certain of the futures of Ford and GM. The same cannot be said of either from 2020. This is not to suggest that socialists should not be concerned with central planning, but rather, that planning is not a magic bullet that makes the transition away from capitalism inevitable. 

Over a century ago, Lenin praised the scientific management of Taylor as a progressive force in capitalist society because of its tendency to bring order to the chaos of capitalist production. He believed that it would eventually lay the foundation for socialism through its rationalization of production and distribution within capitalism. According to Lenin, Taylorism had inadvertently helped prepare for “the time when the proletariat will take over all social production and appoint its own workers’ committees for the purpose of properly distributing and rationalizing all social labor,” and that the increasing centralization of industry on a large scale would “provide thousands of opportunities to cut by three-fourths the working time of the organized workers and make them four times better off than they are today.”43 If one looks at the universalization of Taylorism in the capitalist world and the experience of the Soviet Union, there is, at the very least, a question mark over the efficacy of taking on the methods of scientific management without a mind to the way they help structure relations of production. 

The same can be said about the claims of planning. While it may have had the effect of stabilizing individual capitals, or even large segments of capital, planning has not led to the stabilization of capital in general. In other words, to assume that the means to liberate ourselves from capital exist as tools to be grasped fully-formed from the capitalist system, be it either scientific management or central planning, is to an assume the inevitability of socialism, a false proposition that Rosa Luxemburg grasped more than a hundred years ago when she appealed to the imperative toward either socialism or barbarism.

Writing during the nightmarish upheaval of total war in Europe, Luxemburg reminded the proletariat movement of their latent potential, their role as agents in history to overturn the existing order. From the standpoint of the early twenty-first century, in a world wracked by imperialist proxy wars, climate catastrophe, and political-economic uncertainty, her words echo today as true they did then when she first wrote them in 1915.  In the face of this reality, “the only compensation for all the misery and all the shame would be if we learn from the war how the proletariat can seize mastery of its own destiny and escape the role of the lackey to the ruling classes.”44 

What Luxemburg so masterfully illustrates with her passionate reminder of human will in shaping the course of history, is what E.H. Carr gestures toward in his methodological book What is History? His book outlines a general methodology for the history discipline. In doing so, he takes aim at critics’ contentions that historical materialism posits an inevitable outcome to history. At the same time, he challenges a view of history as random happenstance. For Carr, “nothing in history is inevitable, except in the formal sense that, for it to have happened otherwise, the antecedent causes would have had to have been different,” but at the same time, history is not completely “a chapter of accidents, a series of events determined by chance coincidences, attributable only to the most causal of causes.”45

Late Capitalism and the Law of Value

The discussion above may seem a digression from the larger analysis of the long 1970s. However, the faith that the economic question within capitalism had been solved by social democracy and that the road to peaceful transition had been charted, is what blinded many to the cracks in the postwar consensus—a belief not altogether different from that of the inevitable triumph of socialism. Today, a similar belief exists. For many, the idea that we could go back to the politics of the postwar consensus is not only feasible, but also desirable. This stems from a mistaken notion that the only thing that led to its breakdown was politics: if we can just get back to the right kind of politics, then we can make social democracy great again. 

Even as he criticized the power of the corporation and the state in the modern economy, Galbraith made such an argument about politics during the breakup of the postwar order. He wrote in the Introduction to the 3rd edition of the New Industrial State released in 1978, that by all accounts the “sharp recessions” of that decade were “by wide agreement…the result of a deliberate act of policy to arrest inflation,” with  “those holding most vehemently that inflation was still a natural phenomenon being those responsible for the policy.”46 While Marxist Economist and Historian Ernest Mandel would likely agree that nothing in political economy is inherently natural, this does not mean that human beings do not create systems that stand over them and cannot be controlled at will. Human beings certainly forged those bonds through the muck of ages, but that does not mean that their essence remains apparent as they become imbued with new meaning across time. This is of course what Marx meant when he employed the concept of commodity fetishism, that is to say social relations between people appear as relations between things. 

Mandel’s Late Capitalism is very much a response to this overly politically-determined view of history. He provides empirical evidence to support the notion contrary to thinkers like Galbraith, Baran, and Sweezy that Marx’s critique of political economy still stood as definitive in the era of monopoly capitalism. Even the title of his work was meant as a response to those who believed capitalist society had superseded the laws of motion of capital as described by Marx in the same way that an Einsteinian universe had eclipsed the Newtonian one early in the middle of the twentieth century. For Mandel, the question of whether late capitalism represented a new stage of capitalist development could be answered by asking whether “government regulation of the economy, or the ‘power of the monopolies,’ or both, ultimately or durably cancel the workings of the law value.”47 Indeed, if that question was answered in the affirmative, then any unstable holdovers from the old order such as “crises and recessions” could “no longer… due to the forces inherent in the system but merely to the subjective mistakes or inadequate knowledge of those who ‘guide the economy.’”48 

Source: Ernest Mandel Internet Archive.

By holding Marx’s critique of political economy as valid even in the age of monopoly capital, Mandel was able to see the postwar era for what it was: the calm before the storm of capitalist crisis. An interregnum, which could lead either towards continued domination or towards the liberation of the working class. Rather than take monopoly power as something eternal, Mandel looked at its long-term historical trajectory. First, by sticking to a Marxist conception of the economy that is consistent with the labor theory of value, his starting point of analysis is that the equalization of the rate of profit as it relates to the theory of the rate of profit to fall does not imply an equal division of profits among capitalists. Rather, because this rate is determined by the “total mass of capital set in by each autonomous firm,” those firms that employ the greatest amount technology or constant capital in the production process, are able to siphon surplus from those with a below-average level of productivity, despite a smaller footprint in terms of variable capital or labor power used in the course of production.49 However, while this does not imply an equal mass of profits, there is still the tendency to push and pull the rate of profit towards a social average on the level of individual firms. Effectively, this means that the role of the monopoly in late capitalism is to prevent as long as possible the equalization process from taking place by blocking the movement of capital from one branch to another. But as with any wall, there is always a ladder that can be climbed to reach the other side. 

For instance, Mandel argues that the short-term need of monopolies to bring non-monopolized sectors under their purview to control effective demand leads in the long term to an erosion of their monopoly power through an acceleration of the equalization of the rate of profit. In other words: 

The more this process advances, and the nearer the package of goods produced by monopolies comes to compromise the whole range of social production, the smaller monopoly surplus-profits will tend to become and the closer the monopoly rate of profit will have to adjust to the average rate of profit. The monopolies will thus increasingly be dragged into the maelstrom of the tendency for this average rate of profit to fall.50

At the same time, even if non-monopoly sectors of the economy remain independent of the monopoly ones, in times of downturn those sectors find themselves at a diminished capacity. Therefore, the monopoly sector is not furnished with the surplus-profits that protect them from the fall in the rate of profit. Not only do monopolies in the last analysis sow the seeds for their own demise vis-à-vis their need for continual growth, but also attempts to subvert this tendency in the long term, including those of the state, have the effect of intensifying these contradictions. 

Mandel identified at least three specific limitations to state intervention into the capitalist economy. First, the stimulation of demand through the printing of new money has the effect of lowering the rate of surplus-value i.e. the rate of profit, and in no way does it ensure productive investment–that is investment in the production of value leading to the accumulation of capital. Second, if the state invests any redistributed surplus-value towards productive investment of its own, it must ensure that those investments do not directly compete with already existing sectors of the economy. Finally, if state investments made from tax revenues are to be generative of new value, rather than a redistribution of existing surplus-value, they must not be from capital itself, but from the petty bourgeoisie and the working class’ general wage fund.51 Data from Emanuel Saez and Gabriel Zucman’s recent book the Triumph of Injustice bears out this assumption. While their definition of what constitutes wealth and the question of how to address income inequality may be flawed, their collection of average effective tax rate data is a helpful illustration of the shifting tax burden that Mandel first theorized in 1972: 

Source: Emanuel Zaez and Gabriel Zucman, the Triumph of Injustice: How the Rich Dodge Taxes and How to Make Them Pay (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2019). Data and Appendix of Figures: https://taxjusticenow.org/#/appendix

This change in the composition of the tax base helps to create antagonistic relationships between the capitalists on the dole of the state and the petty bourgeoisie, as well as those segments of capital whose profit is not ensured through state subsidy. This explains the rise of the politics of the taxpayers revolt, which was and has been so central to building a base of support for the neoliberal turn.52 Mandel identifies this tension as a real limit to the support that the state can have for monopolies: the state cannot support monopolies if they endanger the capitalist system as a whole.53

Long Waves of Capitalist Development

The main point of Late Capitalism may have been to illustrate the continued validity of the Marxist research project in the face of its dismissal by critics on both the left and the right, but Mandel did not simply seek to explain the crisis of his moment. Instead, he sought to provide a long-term view of capitalist development, one that explained the tectonic shifts in the mode of production from one generation to the next, and most importantly, one that might clarify where the transition of his own time might lead. 

This longue durée approach to the historical development of capitalism is precisely why Mandel’s work seems so prescient in the light of the present. This perspective allowed Mandel to historicize his own moment as part of the larger development of capitalism as a global economic system counterposed to contemporaneous bourgeois economists, who held that golden age as a permanent stasis. Mandel accomplished this by adapting Soviet Economist Nikolai Kondratieff’s work on long waves of capitalist development, which posited that along with short-term business cycles there were longer-term ones that lasted for fifty years more or less. These long waves inevitably brought about a restructuring of the capitalist economy through a revolution in technology, or, to use another phrase, the development of the forces of production. In Mandel’s version, these long waves consisted of a period of twenty-five to thirty years, either expansionary or depressive in character. Despite the dichotomy of expansion and depression in Mandel’s long waves, the standard five to seven-year business cycle still operated.  For example, during depressive waves recoveries are not as robust as those that occur during expansive ones.

Mandel explains the breakdown of each kind of wave and its effect on the rate of profit as follows: “expansive waves are periods in which the forces counteracting the tendency of the average rate of profit to decline operate in a strong and synchronized way,” and “depressive long waves are periods in which the forces counteracting the tendency of the rate of profit to decline are fewer, weaker, and decisively less synchronized.54This connection to rate of profit, and thus to the levels of investment, helps explain another part of Mandel’s unique interpretation of the long waves in capitalist development. He posited that, unlike business cycles, expansionary waves were by no means automatically triggered by long depressive one. In this way, he was able to integrate Leon Trotsky’s criticism of Kondratieff into the way that he applied the concept. Trotsky critiqued Kondratieff’s long cycles for removing human agency from the development of new technology and ways of working, as well as, the role played by what might be termed exogenous or outside the economic base of society such as wars and revolutions to creating conditions for a new expansionary wave. 

Defending this interpretation and application of long waves to the history of capitalism against charges of eclecticism, Mandel argued that, often, the “creative destruction” needed to reinvigorate the level productive investments and trigger a new expansionary wave could actually require the physical destruction of fixed capital and of older technology, rather than just its market devaluation. Indeed, his retort, that: 

it is inevitable that new long wave of stagnating trend must succeed a long wave of expansionist trend, unless of course, one is ready to assume that capital has discovered the trick of eliminating for a quarter of a century (if not for longer) the tendency of the average rate of profit to decline.55

speaks to the room that exists for “heterodoxy” within the orthodox Marxist tradition. 

If nothing else, Marx continuously used the newest methods bestowed to him by the practitioners of classical political economy in critiquing them. To assume that he would not have continued to do the same had he had the opportunity to continue his project is to contradict the very nature of his work. Like Marx, Mandel’s use of long waves in no way betrays his commitment to critique of political economy, in that their abstraction is in no way opposed to the concrete. If anything it was Mandel’s critics who were idealistic in their criticism of his notion of exogenous triggers. 

Source: Leon Neal, 2017, Getty Images.

The 1970s as the End of an Era and the Foundation for the Neoliberal Turn

Another useful method inherited from Mandel’s adoption of the modified Kondratieff’s cycles, is the notion that these long waves could be conceptualized as unique historical moments. The postwar boom represents just one of many long expansionary waves, and the interwar years and the Great Depression represent an example of a long period of stagnation. Considering that the lectures that made up his book Long Waves were given in 1978, most of his theorization on the period of the collapse of the postwar order and the neoliberal turn remained mainly predictions based on existing evidence from the start of that wave and other speculations. Still, they do offer an insight not only into how this turn was experienced for Mandel as an individual, but also on some general assumptions and observations that can be subject to an empirical review of subsequent data. 

One point, in particular, seems terribly cogent, especially in the light of contemporary explanations of the neoliberal turn on the left. Mandel postulates that the shift from a certain Keynesian orthodoxy to a monetarist one at the level of national governments did not create neoliberalism, but rather, it was the political-economic crisis brought upon by the stagflation of the 1970s that made one set of ideas marginal and brought the other in vogue. Given the logic of capital and its need to restore the rate of profit, the welfare state could no longer offer the safety net it once had, and indeed it represented a barrier to further accumulation. This materialist explanation of the hegemony of the likes of Friedman and Hayek makes far more sense than the notion that somehow the strength of their ideas created a brand-new consensus by the 1980s. As Mandel writes, this “new economic wisdom” was by no means ‘scientific,’ despite claims to the contrary, but rather “corresponds to the immediate and long-term needs of the capitalist class.”56 Recent scholarship on the New York City financial crisis of 1975 that among other things, produced the now infamous headline “Ford to City: Drop Dead,” points to such a pragmatic and ad hoc adoption of new economic ideas in response to uncertain realities of the day.57

Source: New York Daily News, (1975), New York Daily News.

Fear City by Kim Phillips-Fein, tells the story of the response to the deep crisis of the city from above and below, but ultimately though, it was those who acted from above won the day. However, the idea that those crafting fiscal policy and managing the city’s budget were either contemporary Republican deficit hawks and their Third Way Democratic party handmaidens of austerity should be put to rest. Prior to the financial crisis, Phillips-Fein argues that New York City was a bastion of social democracy created by decades of militant working-class struggle. It could only have through such a crisis that those gains could have been unmade. Even those in seats of authority called to helm the Municipal Assistance Corporation (MAC) and the Emergency Financial Control Board (EFCB) saw themselves more in line with the liberalism of the Great Society than that of the Third Way. 

The MAC was a public-benefit corporation set up to financialize the city’s assets in the face of mounting debt and the EFCB was an institution set up to oversee the city’s spending. Both institutions exemplify how the financial crisis created two political-economic functions characteristic of the emergent neoliberal state: with one hand the state privatized its assets to make up for shrinking state coffers, and with the other, took away those services deemed unnecessary to the accumulation of capital in general. In the case of men like Felix Rohaytn who helped create the MAC, it would be their experience of saving the city from itself that would transform their thought, rather than their thought transforming the city. However, we should not assume that it was unavoidable that such a view would become the hegemonic one. Indeed, it took the mythologizing of the moment by politicians like New York Mayor Ed Koch for the notion that there was no alternative to austerity for the view to take hold. Koch did so by painting the crisis as a teachable moment that allowed the city to see the error of its ways and to move on “in a positive direction.”58

Aside from explaining the formation of the new dominant bourgeois ideology of late capitalism, Mandel also described the actions that would be necessary to restore the rate of profit during the depressive wave that began in 1973, signaled by the oil shocks of that year. He predicted that in order to lay the foundation for a restored rate of profit which would eventually give way from a stagnating wave to an expansionist one, there would need to be a disciplining of organized labor through the use of unemployment. This would simultaneously allow capital to increase the level of exploitation through a degradation of conditions and circumstances of work, the further concentration and centralization of capital, which would lead to reduced cost in means of production like equipment, raw materials, and energy—and most importantly “massive applications of new technological innovations” and “a new revolutionary acceleration of in the rate of turnover of capital.”59

Source: United States Bureau of Labor Statistics, “Unemployment Rate,” Series LNS14000000 (Washington DC: U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, February 26, 2020).
Source: United States Bureau of Labor Statistics, “Percent of Employed Members of unions,” Series LUU0204899600 (Washington DC: U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, March 3, 2020).

Taking up Mandel’s point about the necessity of unemployment to weaken labor organizations, it is no accident of history that from the mid-1970s forward the rate of unemployment never reached the consistent lows of the preceding periods, at least until the precipice of the current century. Nor does it appear to be a coincidence the same period saw a massive dip in levels of unionization as unemployment grew. While this development was by no means inevitable, and was most certainly did not come to pass without resistance, the necessary preconditions for the neoliberal subject were forged through this moment. There was “no alternative,” not because Reagan and Thatcher said so, but because attempts to move beyond the New Deal and the Great Society had become stalled and the material preconditions for the working class to fight in their own name were increasingly closed off from them. The experience of that process for working people and their institutions will be picked up below. 

Keeping in mind the fact that expansionary waves are not an unavoidable exit from a depressive one, Mandel highlights a certain point about the expansion of the world market that warrants close inspection. He argues that “one should not confuse an overall expansion in the world market at a rapid pace with an overall restructuring of the international division of labor.” That is, “employment at lower wages in certain countries is substituted for employment at higher wages in other countries,” and “equipment [being] shifted from one part of the world to another” at best leads to a marginal increase in effective demand through lowered operating costs, but this is not enough on its own to engender “a new long-term wave of accelerated growth.”60

Source: UN Conference on Trade and Development, “Foreign direct investment: Inward and outward flows and stock, annual,” China (Geneva, Switzerland: March 4, 2020) https://unctadstat.unctad.org/wds/TableViewer/tableView.aspx.
Source: UN Conference on Trade and Development, “Foreign direct investment: Inward and outward flows and stock, annual,” India (Geneva, Switzerland: March 4, 2020) https://unctadstat.unctad.org/wds/TableViewer/tableView.aspx.
Source: UN Conference on Trade and Development, “Foreign direct investment: Inward and outward flows and stock, annual,” United States (Geneva, Switzerland: March 4, 2020) https://unctadstat.unctad.org/wds/TableViewer/tableView.aspx.

Neoliberalism as a political project is often spoken of as going hand in hand with globalization. In other words, in order to return to an era of fiercer capitalist competition, barriers to trade between nations needed to be overcome, either by trade agreement or military coup. Except, rather than completely transforming the international division of labor, for a time neoliberalism amounted to tinkering around its edges. Meaning that, what is thought of as the rapid development of countries like China and India did not occur as rapidly as is often assumed. It took decades to move from countries which provided raw materials to components of manufactured products to countries that finished goods themselves. It took years of reinvestment in themselves before their economies could stand on their own two feet. Looking at levels of foreign direct investment as an indicator of multi-national development of national economies, it seems clear that it took years before even the levels of investment in formerly colonized countries began to approach those of the dominant economic player of the twentieth century: The United States. Despite these changes, following decades of infrastructural neglect, catalyzed by the devaluation and privatization of the Great Recession, the U.S. once again became a haven for foreign investment in the 21st century. 

Source: World Bank, “GDP growth (annual %),” China (Washington DC: March 4, 2020).
Source: World Bank, “GDP growth (annual %),” India (Washington DC: March 4, 2020).
Source: World Bank, “GDP growth (annual %),” United States (Washington DC: March 4, 2020).

This data on foreign direct investment taken alongside GDP growth makes clear that rather than completely transforming relations between the United States and the developing world, FDI reified the existing order of things. Of course, this does not mean that nothing changed between 1973 and 2008, but instead that it took the deepening of the long-term crisis of capitalism (more accurately described as malaise or stagnation) for this incremental process of capitalist realignment to achieve a qualitative shift from a quantitative one. 

The only thing that kept the machine of capital in motion was the industrialization of the developing world as a means of propping up advanced industrial economies. What this means is that despite the massive economic growth across the last 40 years, these developing economies were still relegated to junior partners of American and European firms due to the need to attract the investment needed to develop their productive forces in order to compete with the level of productivity of those companies. This means that they still played their historical role of furnishing raw materials and later cheap manufactured goods to advanced industrial economies, which in return provided capital goods, means of transport, and management methods. 

When all of this is taken into account, a picture emerges of a unique phenomenon: what might be called a stagnating expansionary wave. In a word, while there was a recovery from the prior lows, it never matched that of the previous cycles. This is where Mandel’s notion of non-self-sustaining cycles can be of some use. Without the massive “creative destruction” of worldwide warfare or a global catastrophe, and the continued application of Keynesian monetary policy without its commitment to demand stimulating fiscal policy, the conditions created could only partially restore the rate of profit following the crisis of the 1970s. This analysis fits with some recent scholarship of Kondratieff waves or K-waves, particularly those working within the world systems tradition. While three such practitioners: Grinin, Korotayev, and Tausch, argue that the period from the 1970s forward is not out of line with the long-term historical trajectory of K-Wave cycles, they, at the very least, seem to see its effect on the core/periphery dynamics within the world market. 

They characterize the period from 1968/74 to 1984/91, or what they term Phase B of the Fourth K-Wave in the history of capitalism, as a moment in which: 

The Core was ‘attacked’ by the Periphery economically—first of all through a radical increase in oil and some other raw material prices. In the meantime, the West invested rather actively in the Periphery (especially, through loans to the developing countries).61

At the same time, the following period, or Phase A of the Fifth K-Wave (1984/91 to 2006/08), saw the centers of growth slowly shift from the traditional Core to the Periphery. In other words, economic development moved from the First to the Third World, from developed to the developing world. On a purely economic level, they assert that this period represents red in the ledger for the core and black for the periphery, which of course leaves out so many of the social realities that sustained these processes, but that problem has already been addressed by countless thinkers and needs not be relitigated here.62 What is important for the moment is their preoccupation with a mechanically-determined system change, in both the literal technological sense and an economic one, a framework for understanding long waves that both Trotsky and later Mandel criticized as removing human agency from the equation of world history. 

Staking a claim against those that see the period from the 1970s on as one of “decelerating scientific and technological progress,” they contend that the further development and generalization of new technology is a product of the need for the periphery to catch up to the level of development of the core.63 That is, the further accelerated development of the core over the periphery would risk a fracturing of an integrated world system, and to be charitable, they do account for the necessity of “structural changes in political and social spheres” for “promoting their synergy and wide implementation in the world of business.”64 However, from this perspective, it seems the capitalist and international state system bends to fit the needs of developing technology, rather than vice versa. If it is assumed that humanity has created a machine too big to control, then such a view makes sense. However, if we still believe that the technology we build and the economic system we live within is capable of being transformed through our own force of will, then it is imperative that such a view be rejected. 

Indeed, a general proliferation of advanced technology on a global scale, at least that imagined in their work, would require the transcendence of capitalism. As Mandel wrote in Late Capitalism, there are real limitations on the professionalization of the workforce and the automation of labor, as those movements tend to diminish the total amount of surplus-value being produced by reducing the number of workers employed by capital, at the same time that they transform the mental and manual separation of labor—a division that ensures discipline and hierarchy among the working class. To brush up against those limits is to go against the drive toward “self-preservation.”65

Grinin, Korotavev, and Tausch may not see the new economic order that rose from the ashes of the postwar compact during the 1970s as outside the ordinary pattern of long wave cycles. However, their own data does seem to point to a newly emergent pattern of development, one that vindicates the Mandelian notion of expansionary long waves as often contingent upon exogenous triggers to restore the rate of profit. On the surface, this seems to lend credence to the idea of stagnating expansionary waves outlined above, but it would take more than the work examined so far to legitimate these waves as a category of analysis.

Source: H. Armstrong Roberts, 1970s People In, Getty Images

The 1970s and the Failure of Capitalist Production

Marxian economist Andrew Kliman’s work on the rate of profit and the underlying causes of the Great Recession helps to bridge the gap between the work of Grinin, Korotayev, and Tausch and Mandel. At the same time, it makes the existence of stagnating expansionary waves not only seem likely, but also the most probable explanation for the movement of capitalist development over the last half-century. This work, The Failure of Capitalist Production, is fairly straightforward in its line of argumentation. There is very little in the way of literary frills or flourishes that a historian might like to see in his attempt to correct what he calls the “conventional left account” of neoliberalism. Regardless of form, its content empirically validates what had only been examined previously through tangential bourgeois economic measure: the tendency of the rate of profit to fall. Marxist economists like Mandel used measurements like GDP, CPI, and Industrial Capacity Usage as stand-ins for actually measuring the rate of profit, among other things, to grasp through darkness towards answers—to see beyond the form of appearance. For instance, a lag in GDP growth might point to a lag in new productive investment or low Industrial Capacity Usage might point to a lack of incentive to invest productively, but Kliman does something different with his book. Applying the temporal single-system interpretation (TSSI) of Marx’s value theory, he uses the extensive U.S. economic data to measure fluctuations in the rate of profit.66

In doing so Kliman finds that, in contrast to what more traditional accounts have argued, the discipline of labor and the shift in advanced industrial economies away from manufacturing to service and finance did not produce an upswing in the rate of profit. Instead, he shows this to be on the whole a failed fix to increase productive investment, due to the unwillingness on the part of policymakers to unleash the destructive potential of an untethered capital upon the world. The fear of what a crisis as deep as the Great Depression would do to the system as a whole acted as a failsafe against a pure market fundamentalism. To unchain the latent extirpative force would be folly, as it represents an existential gambit on the part of capital on whether it would survive the destruction intact or if it would be felled by the gravediggers it might produce. 

Ultimately, this double-bind creates conditions in which “artificial government stimulus…produces unsustainable growth” that “threatens to make the next crisis worse when it comes,” and all for nothing, as “the economy will remain sluggish unless and until profitability is restored”—that is unless the character of production changes.67 From this perspective, what could be termed neoliberalism did not begin in the 1980s, but rather, was born out of the beginning of a “long period of relative stagnation” that began in the 1970s.68 The Reagan Revolution and Voodoo Economics were themselves a means of saving the system from itself without recourse to Pascal’s wager of pure creative destruction, and not the crucible of economic transformation themselves. 

Kliman pulls from two data sets to measure the rate or profit in the United States: the first, before tax-profits; and the second, what he describes as the “property-income” rate of profit. The second data in his estimation is closer to the spirit of Marx—in that it “counts as profit all of the output (net value added) of corporations that their employees do not receive,” including “money spent to make interest payments and transfer payments (fines, court settlements, gift contributions, and so on, to pay sales and property taxes, and other minor items.”69 Such an approximation of the Marixan rate of profit makes sense, when we consider that Marx wrote in the second volume of Capital that it is:“immaterial for the rent collector of a landlord or the porter at a bank that their labor does not add one iota of value of the rent, nor to gold pieces carried to another bank by the sackful.”  Rather, all that mattered was that they received a portion of value produced from the point of view of the total social production.70 Kliman demonstrates this historical decline in the rate of profit by applying various methods of control to both data sets in different ways. For instance, including inventories in the before-tax rate as a way to factor in the importance of turnover or adjusting for inflation, among other methods.71

All of this serves to illustrate the economic stagnation of the last fifty years, the collective process of kicking the can down the road on the part of the bourgeoisie and their representatives in the bourgeois state. Both wings of neoliberalism failed to address the problem of the falling rate of profit and instead papered over the contradiction with a series of stopgaps that have ultimately made capitalism more unstable, and not less. However, to just understand the economics and not the accompanying social realities are to do a disservice to the Marxist project. Knowing the problem, on the other hand, better shapes the line of inquiry into the historical experience of working people and how they have reacted to and shaped the unfolding of historical processes.

Working from Fordism to Neoliberalism

Before dissecting the economic basis of the emergent neoliberal era, this essay sought to illuminate the difficulty in which those writing at the time of breakdown of the postwar order had in seeing that the systems built through the crises of the 1930s and 1940s struggle under the strain of globalization.  For many, collapse appeared as a bump in the road, one that could simply be smoothed over. But as the expansionary wave of the postwar boom gave way to the stagnating depressive wave in the middle of the 1970s, the possibility of simply repaving the same road became untenable. The ability to maintain an adequate rate of profit and the truce between capital and labor became a pressing contradiction that had to be resolved one way or another. In the end, it was capital that won the battle over who would determine the future, but not without struggle. 

From the standpoint of the working class, how lopsided the bargain struck in the shadow of the Great Depression became increasingly clear. They had given up control over the workplace in favor of higher wages and better benefits. While the latter had served them well and brought generalized affluence unseen in American history, the importance of the former was clarified by the continuing deskilling of work through automation and an increasingly complex division of labor. At the same time, there had been those left out of the pact between labor and capital from its inception. For them, the promise of bread and butter unionism and the prospect of collective bargaining still held an appeal. From their fight to unionize, Marx’s contention that the relationship between economic base and the cultural superstructure are not a one to one relationship becomes clear. Even as the economic basis to organize was curbed, these workers fought for a dream deferred. They fought with the same militancy of their 1930s forebears, conjuring “the spirits of the past to their service.”72

Both this alienation of workers and their struggle for a seat at the bargaining highlight the difficulty in seeing beyond the present. More importantly, it highlights that it is not enough to simply have the right understanding of political economy. We must understand how this reality is experienced in the daily lives of the working class, not just at a higher level of abstraction.  What follows is an examination of working people in their own words, and how they understood the social relations they found themselves.

Source: Preston Stroup, “A workman adjusted a Ford Mustang at the final assembly line in a Detroit-area factory on Nov. 6, 1967”, Preston Stroup/Associated Press

Studs Terkel’s classic book Working stands as both a transhistorical and period-specific documentation of life on the job. While the social relations of labor under capitalism change over time, there will always be a fundamental sense of alienation that accompanies work for others until the capitalist mode of production is transcended. In contrast to the works of Bell and Braverman released in the same year, Working let American workers speak for themselves. They described their own social relations, rather than through the pretense of heady theory. A collection of interviews that includes insight from as wide-ranging occupations as assembly-line workers, truckers, waitresses, bank tellers, and salesman, the book reminds us that despite its romanticization, the postwar period itself produced highly alienating relations of production precisely because American society never went beyond the constraints of social-democracy. 

Phil Stallings, a spot welder at a Ford assembly plant in Chicago exemplifies the Fordist alienation. He describes the feeling of being trapped in three-foot area, pulling the trigger of his welding gun 10,240 times a day as creating an almost out of body experience: 

You dream, you think of things you’ve done. I drift back continuously to when I was a kid and what me and my brothers did. The things you love most are the things you drift back into.73

Not only did his work make Stallings have this sense of incorporeality, he felt alienated in the more traditional Marxist sense. The machines, or the product of social labor, were given better than he received on the job. Indeed, he believed “they’ll have more respect, give more attention to that machine,” and further “you get the feeling that the machine is better than you are,” and if he were breakdown for whatever reason, he would be “pushed over to the other side till another man takes my place,”—ultimately he felt that he was more disposable than the components that made up the tools of his trade.74

While Stallings was a younger man, the problem of capitalist alienation does not discriminate by age, Ned Williams, who worked on the line from 1946 until shortly before his interview with Terkel, expressed a similar feeling which was, however, manifested differently.  Williams says of his time on the line that he was constantly exhausted, “but I got a job to do. I had to do it. I had no time to think or daydream. I woulda quit.”75 Williams may not have dreamed of his childhood in the way his younger counterpart did, but he too lost himself in his work to the point that: 

Sometimes I felt like I was just a robot. You push a button and you go this way. You become a mechanical nut. You get a couple of beers and go to sleep at night. Maybe one, two o’clock in the morning, my wife is saying, ‘come on, come on, leave.’ I’m still workin’ that line.76

The degradation of work in this period was of course not limited to those working in factories, as Doc Pritchard, a room clerk at a hotel near Times Square, attests to. He explained that: 

I’ve had people to me just like I was some sort of dog, that I was a ditchdigger, let’s say. You figure a fellow who comes to work and he has to have a cleanly pressed suit and a white shirt and a tie on—plus he’s gotta have that big smile on his face—shouldn’t be talked in a manner that he’s something below somebody else. 

It affects me. It gives you that feeling: Oh hell, what’s the use? I’ve got to get out of this. Suddenly you look in the mirror and you find out you’re not twenty-one any more. You’re fifty-five. Many people have said to me, ‘why didn’t you get out of it long ago?” I never really had enough money to get out. I was stuck, more or less.77

While it may be obvious from these accounts that the social peace of the postwar era was predicated on a utopian vision of American society that did not exist. That consumer culture of the affluent society did not live up to the promise of a free society. Workers could purchase more for sure and there was certainly more leisure time, but at what cost? The president of UAW Local 685, which represented workers at Chrysler transmission plant in Kokomo, Indiana, spoke to that deal in an interview conducted in 1996. Of the life in a union ship in the ‘60s and 70s, he reminisced that “you knew something was going to come in the contract that improved either your economic status or your leisure time,” but that was not the whole bargain, the main light at the end of workers in that period was leaving the job for good, “on the first day they walked in there, everybody lived for that day they could walk out and retire.”78

At the same time, it should not be forgotten that the ability to have the last chapter of life in the form of a comfortable retirement, or even the ability to have some sort of leisure time was materially a step forward for the working class of the advanced industrial countries, something that the erosion of those gains has laid bare. This progressive element of an ultimately conservative collective bargaining system would have been self-evident to those standing outside it even at the time.

Lane Windham’s recent work Knocking on Labor’s Door shows that even after what Cowie calls “the last days of the working class” in the 1970s, those outside of the labor-capital compact continued to try to wedge their foot in the door.79 And this was not just a timid knock, but a pounding on the door by an increasingly diverse working class traditionally left out in the cold by the postwar boom. Rather than looking at strike levels, she utilizes data on unionization drives both successful and not. Instead of decline, this National Labor Review Board data points to an increase in struggles to form unions throughout not just the 1970s, but also the Reagan eighties, particularly those in the emergent service sector. 

The reason is that in the American context, many of the necessities of daily life including healthcare and retirement were tied to employment in a way they were not elsewhere where more expansive social democratic safety nets had been created. In order for workers to assure access to these social goods, they required a union contract, something that as Windham illustrates, became increasingly difficult. This was accomplished through the dual process of, on the one hand, the rise of labor management consulting as a cottage industry to help employers sidestep existing laws, and on the other, the exponential growth in lobbying efforts that would make union organizing a more difficult process than it already was. This is an ongoing process that the recent Janus decision provides just the latest example of. Put simply, as new segments of the working class were opening the door to perceived prosperity, the door was slammed in their face. 

The continued militancy of the working class in the face of growing structural obstruction to organizing their workplaces certainly dilutes Cowie’s claim that the working class was made a force of cultural conservatism and irrelevant by the end of the 1970s. That said, the validity of his larger point about the fragility of the order built around the New Deal remains. As he concludes in his book’s final chapter: 

Whatever working-class identity might emerge from the postmodern, global age will have to be less rigid and less limiting than that of the postwar order, and far less wedded to the bargaining table as the sole expression of workplace power. It will have to be less about consumption and more about democracy, and as much about being blue collar as being green collar.  It will have to be more inclusive in conception, more experimental in form, more nimble in organization, and more kaleidoscopic in nature than previous incarnations.80  

While I must disagree with Cowie slightly (we cannot simply talk about simply creating a better working-class identity), the thrust of his statement is true. Any working-class movement must move beyond a trade union consciousness to a socialist one. This entails a commitment to democracy and environmentalism, and of course, a move beyond narrow chauvinism to embrace universal humanity.

Twilight of Neoliberalism: The End of the Eternal Present?

I began writing this essay in January, before the electoral coup against Bernie Sanders, before the coronavirus put the world on lockdown before we plummeted into a recession that may be on a scale not seen since the Great Depression, before American brownshirts marched armed through the streets unimpeded before nationwide uprisings began in response to the killing of George Floyd. Before, before, before. But very little of what has come to pass changes the facts of history laid out here. As the famous quote attributed to Lenin goes “there are decades where nothing happens, and there are weeks when decades happen.”81 We are seeing the end of the “end of history.” What will come next is anyone’s guess.  But at the same time, it seems certain that the eternal present of neoliberalism is dead. The sense that we have seen it all is gone. However, the problems left to us by the old form remain. The stench of its rotting corpse has stultified us.  Leaving us to stare in horror as the body putrefies. Even as the left tries to find a way from subculture to the seats of power, it remains haunted by the neoliberal ghost of civility and procedure. 

Announcing the passing of another age, historians Steve Fraser and Gary Gerstle performed an autopsy of the New Deal order just before the End of History. In their assessment, they wrote that while that order was “dead”:

the problems bedeviling that order from the early 1960s live on: class and racial antagonisms, the resentments of status and power, the corruptions and frustrations of engorged federal bureaucracies, the antipodes of authority and resistance, still occupy a central place in our nation’s political life.82

While the neoliberal response to those problems had the effect of further retrenching them, this was not the only possible future. Another was possible, one that would have represented the resolution of those contradictions in favor of the working class, rather than a regression that eroded the gains made by those that built the New Deal in the first place. However, that window closed as the organizations of the working class became either more marginal or a cornerstone partner in managing the affairs of capitalism. The window again appears to be cracked, will we choose to fling it open or seek to rebuild an idealized past that never existed? 

One thing remains clear: the crises of capital will continue until they are overcome. They will be overcome either through the transition to socialism or through a descent into barbarism. There really is no alternative. How we do so is to learn the lessons of the past. I posited earlier the question of whether a second shot at the New Deal was possible or even ideal. To which my response is a resounding no. Sure, it proved long-lasting in a juridical sense and a temporary boon for the living standards of the working class, but in the long view of history the New Deal was a misstep for the working class. It limited the horizon of struggle to what could be accomplished through law, rather than what could be gained through the further development of class warfare. 

Most importantly, it required the accumulation of capital on the national scale, and with that requirement of the continuous production of value by the working class—something that precludes the international character of socialism. In the long run, even the strongest social democratic reforms are eroded by coercive law of competition. Businesses that can no longer live with the expanded consumer participation of their workers and maintain a sufficient rate of profit will always choose their own interests over their workers. Just like they know their interests, we must learn ours. This is not to say that reform means nothing in the short term, but it should never be forgotten that revolution is the endgame. We need to widen the horizon of the possible and ensure that we begin to think not just beyond the limits of our present, but to those of our imagined past. Seeing beyond the crisis of the 1970s that gave way to the flattened history of the neoliberal era, it is possible to see a new world, but a world in which the contours are unknown and will likely remain undefined for the foreseeable future, that is, until we start to make it.

Mask Off: Crisis & Struggle in the Pandemic

 Richard Hunsinger & Nathan Eisenberg give an in-depth analysis of the current crisis where economic breakdown, pandemic, and mass revolt collide into a historic conjuncture that will forever shape the trajectory of world events. 

Disruption

We are running out of places to keep the bodies. In Detroit, a hospital resorted to stacking up the dead on top of each other in a room usually used for sleep studies. In New York, the epicenter of the pandemic where, for a week in April, someone died of COVID-19 every 3 minutes, a fleet of refrigeration trucks is enabling interment in parking lots for overcrowded hospitals. The chair of New York’s City Council health committee, publicly stated that they were preparing contingency plans, per a 2016 “fatality surge” study, to dig mass graves in a public park. The resulting moral backlash prompted Mayor de Blasio to deny any such plans would be carried out, but he would go on to emphasize the necessity for mass graves on Hart Island, an old potter’s field in the Bronx long home to the unclaimed corpses of the indigent, which has quintupled its monthly intake of bodies. As is protocol, the excess demand for the work of burying bodies on the island is being met with the use of prison labor from Rikers Island, which itself has the highest infection rate in the world. The situation in private funeral homes is similarly dire. Dozens of corpses were recently found rotting in U-Hauls outside a funeral home in New York. In Ecuador, there are cases of bodies being wrapped in plastic and left on the sidewalk for days before strained hospitals can send an ambulance, prompting engineers in Colombia to come to their aid by developing hospital beds that transform into coffins. Mass graves are cropping up across the world, in Ukraine, in Iran, in Brazil. A man in Manaus, Brazil, interviewed by a Guardian reporter while watching his mother’s coffin be lowered into a trench alongside 20 others, despaired, “They were just dumped there like dogs. What are our lives worth now? Nothing.”

Such macabre undertakings point to a sense that this pandemic is unmasking the real immanent content of capitalist society in all its uncaring austerity and banal cruelty. The simple fact, now visible to anyone forced to work without PPE or handing over rent payments from dwindling savings with no horizon of replenishment, is that capitalist social relations cannot sustain human life, that their own perpetuation requires our mass endangerment. The exceptional nature of these present circumstances show the degree to which basic subsistence has been whittled down through protracted class struggles to the point where it is more or less precisely calibrated to merely maintain bare social coherence, leaving the system in a place where it cannot endure significant disruption. This fragility, which routinely exposes proletarians to the most brutal deprivations, is now generalizing across previously secure populations, emanating directly from capitalism’s constitutive contradictions, contradictions between the human fabric that serves as labor-power inputs and the circuitous process of capital accumulation that it animates. All creative activity is organized for this end, no matter the consequences. In the current moment, an accumulation of consequences, previously arrested and deferred, are now spilling forth all at once, like a burst clot. Blood is pooling in the tissues of the social body; the airways are blocked.

If we seek to give an honest diagnosis of the injury and trace the symptoms back to determining conditions, we find an advanced necrosis. This necrosis has many appearances. Capital overaccumulation, taking the form of frantic and increasingly fictitious credit-money markets, on the one hand, and a build-up of industrial capacity far in excess of what is profitable to operate, resulting in chronic overproduction, on the other. Intertwined with this surplus capital are the masses of surplus populations, an explosion in the landless proletariat in absolute numbers colliding with depressed capital that can profitably exploit only a relatively waning subset, rendering the remaining masses superfluous and subject to the diverse tortures of increasing lumpenization. The declining social wage fund that results from this is managed and calibrated with protracted disinvestment in public welfare infrastructure, now most spectacularly in the arena of public health, constituting an outright abandonment of social reproduction. The result has been a managed decline, never so precipitous as to descend fully into social chaos or break the holding pattern, except in punctuated moments that have proven containable in time. While these morbid symptoms of the capitalist mode of production sputtering under its own weight metastasized, the rot was allowed to fester through a palliative nurturance designed to mask it.

We are now witnessing a precipitous collapse of some kind, novel in many of its features, even if it is not yet recognizable as the eschaton many communists (at least implicitly) imagine. Several prominent left-liberal commentators have formed a chorus, which always seems to be at-hand during such a spectacle, theorizing the transformative potential of the pandemic, tending to speculate with unwarranted utopian optimism. Slavoj Žižek activated his Verso showerthought pipeline to crank out a book of impressionistic digressions on the virus, musing that coronavirus is a “perfect storm” that “gives a new chance to communism.” Of course, this would not be the “old-style communism”, but rather the communism of the World Health Organization, where we “mobilize, coordinate, and so on…”; in other words, the banal mechanisms of liberal governance (though as we will see, even this is too much to ask anyway). He makes a vaguely humanist point about how our shared biological vulnerability generates some basic solidarity, citing how even the state of Israel “immediately” moved to help Palestinians, following the logic that “if one group is affected, the other will also inevitably suffer.” This claim is, of course, absurd, as a cursory glance at recent news reveals: Israeli police shut down a testing clinic set up by the Palestinian Authority in East Jerusalem, settler violence against Palestinians in the West Bank increased 78% in late March, house seizures and IDF abuses only worsened and plans to annex the West Bank continue uninterrupted. In a significantly more sober and careful appraisal of the situation, looking at India, Arundhati Roy still characterizes the pandemic, in a turn of phrase reminiscent of Walter Benjamin’s Janus-faced figure of a historical juncture, as a portal through which we might step into a better world. The environmental economist Simon Mair finds hope in the revelatory nature of the crisis, as the failures of “market neoliberalism” are bared for all to see, and maps out four futures after the pandemic, the boldest horizon of which is a program of nationalization plus “new democratic structures.” This “democratic antidote” appears frequently in a context notably distanced from the violence of the present. In a call to “socialize central bank planning,” Benjamin Braun writes on behalf of the “Progressive International” of a democratic vision for finance. Amidst the muddled juggling of abstractions, democracy, capitalism, and technocracy are posited in an assumed possibility of harmonious balance; a goldilocks-esque treatment for reinvigorating capital accumulation. Echoing the wonkish dialect of Elizabeth Warren, Braun writes: “indeed, the left’s capacity to develop sophisticated, actionable economic policy blueprints is growing fast. TINA (“there is no alternative”) was yesterday — today, progressives ‘have a plan for that.’” For the supposed strength of this ideology of “the plan,” a plan of any sort is nowhere to be found outside of these aimless gestures at a remote possibility. Most importantly, the class struggle required for even these tepid evolutions is conspicuously unmentioned.

For all the aspirations to a “radical reform” embedded in the slew of prescriptions, these supposedly “realistic” invocations of new horizons of possibility continue to ring hollow. The immediacy of crisis is inevitably lost in the wish-lists of those that appear merely disappointed in power. The rose-colored glasses of the “democratic” path see opportunity conveniently devoid of context. Begging sobriety, it is critical to acknowledge that no matter where we go from here, it is in the wake of unfathomable loss. Such is the ritual of capital, a totalizing directional movement based on a logic of infinite expansion, only realized through the domination of the living by the dead in a process existing purely for its own sake. While it is true that with crisis comes contingency, and thus new possibilities, these only emerge under certain determinate conditions. In the last instance, it is in the terrain of economy, by which we enter into relations independent of our will and become bound to the social productive forces of material existence, that we ascertain the most pronounced objective shape to history. This edifice, however, merely appears objective, as an undead automaton distorting time and space at a steady interval. Our lives, the time we breathe into them, are rendered unconscious non-events by the mechanical operations of capitalist reproduction. Despite the novelty of this present crisis and the rapid pace of developments, there are trends and outcomes we can begin to apprehend with relative confidence. Critically engaging this material substratum of the economic, the fundamental base of society’s reproduction, presents us with a range of interpretation. Our intention is not to speculate or to anticipate what new reality will emerge out of this situation, but rather to demonstrate that the events and ensuing struggles of the present, despite their unprecedented scale and intensity, have clear origins. For us, this is the best way to interpret the present crisis: in context. 

For the crisis at hand, to merely meditate on the apparent ruptures will not suffice. Despite this particularly catastrophic iteration of the onset of crisis, it fundamentally cannot be divorced from the prior dynamics of capitalist development. The pandemic acts as both disruptor and accelerant, imposing strains on an already struggling and weak global economy. Both the imminent threats of recession and pandemic having long before been present and dire. The failures of the present order bring the world as it was before into a new clarity. Necessity invigorates demands that may prove to undermine capitalism’s conditions of possibility. Social relations previously taken as fixed begin to reveal that their rigidity was in fact fast-frozen movement. The roles played in mediating these contradictions, the bourgeois classes, revealed as nothing but mere figures carved of wood: mocked-up subjects performing an empty ritual, a mockery of life largely reliant on birth lottery and sycophantic power games. It is ironic, then, that the very moment that we may not enter the world without a mask, these character-masks of our era would begin to show signs of slipping. In light of this, simply anticipating a return to “normal” seems premature. It is only through the impacts of emergent struggles that we will know what becomes possible at this juncture.

It is here that we must speak of another potential unmasking. Marx theorizes class in the abstract as defined by one’s relation to production, a crucial element of which is the functional role thus performed within the circuit of capital accumulation. Marx referred to such reified social roles as “character-masks” (Charaktermaske), which is frequently translated into English as “bearer”: subjects who are compelled to carry the process of capital accumulation forward. With the original wording, the emphasis rests more on an external construct that comes to displace the interiority of the subject: as one assumes the mask, so they assume the character. Capital, as the dominating logic of society, is otherwise indifferent to the lives of its subjects beyond adherence to this character-mask, a hazard true for any specific members of the bourgeoisie. And so he writes “As a capitalist, he is only capital personified. His soul is the soul of capital.”1 This near-total identification is no natural relation, of course, but a contingent one existing in a continuum of ceaseless struggle.

Of course, the two character-masks in this process, the bourgeoisie and the proletariat, are not static structures, two opposites with parity, but mutually contradictory social forms locked into an antagonistic dialectic between the owning class and the class which owns nothing that has yet to be resolved. In this way, we can understand class as a matter of material compulsions embedded within the general problem of social reproduction. The proletariat is maintained as such in order for it, as a class, to fulfill its role selling labor-power, the exploitation of which is the foundation of capitalist society. Capital is more forgiving of the proletariat: if they fail to sell any labor-power, and are thus relieved of this function, they remain a proletarian. The immiseration of their position is a given in their role. The strictures of performance, however, are much more severe for the bourgeoisie. The extent to which one personifies this role in relation to production, how successfully one allows their social behavior to be subsumed into the dictates of capital, determines one’s ability to stay a member of the capitalist class. If one is caught off guard, either by allowing their workers to slack off or neglecting the growth of their profits, then one is promptly expelled from the class by their competitors, expropriated and ruined like any proletarian.

Such purges are cyclical within capitalism, as recurring economic crises brush aside the low-performing capitals and pave the way for concentration, thus allowing capital as a totality to maneuver out of its convulsions and establish accumulation anew. This secular process of consolidation brings with it qualitative shifts, such as the late-19th century emergence of monopoly capital that Lenin and Hilferding identified as the driver of imperialism, resulting today in substantially internationalized capital blocs. The exact social geography of these particular capital blocs was laid down through the bloody history of our long epoch. In Capital, Marx methodologically distinguished between “capital in general” and the operation of “many capitals”, analyzed in Volume I and III respectively (though one implicitly containing the other from the beginning), the former a logical structure and the latter taking a concrete appearance more sensitive to history. But this is no relation of accident, with the essence towering above, the weight of ontology behind it, and the appearance flitting across the surface, a mere virtuality. Capital as an abstract logic works itself out through the activities of its constituents, the “universal drawing itself out of a wealth of particularity,” as Jairus Banaji put it.2 Capital in general develops, clashing against itself, as the froth of many capitals.

The centripetal force here is competition. Capitalism is a society without guarantees. As with the interchangeable exchanges of a commodity-producing society, all positions are, strictly speaking, precarious relative to the individual. These different layers of mediation imply within them a whole grid of conflicts, as particular capitalists compete to better exploit fractions of the working class and workers externalized from reproduction compete with each other in the market in order to be exploited, resulting in a violent fragmentation that obfuscates the relations of production, substituting instead diverse outward manifestations as members of the bourgeoisie compete to install themselves behind the character-masks of different capitals. This struggle to realize a contradictory totality, capital in general, leads to a succession of ill-fitting masks. “The fact that the movement of society is full of contradictions impresses itself most strikingly on the practical bourgeois in the changes of the periodic cycle through which modern industry passes, the summit of which is the general crisis”.3 The destabilizing onslaught of crisis forces this contradictory totality to the extremes of its formal coherence. The antagonistic relations of social reproduction are revealed here in an abstract social totality often assumed universal amongst the classes, while the concrete particularity of need violently asserts itself, inflamed by the way the crisis intensifies the disparities in their relative degrees of externalization from reproduction. Conflict first appears over this asymmetrical distribution amongst class fractions, but often reveals its roots to be found deeper, in the fundamental relations of production, whose forces ultimately determine this reproduction.

Though the class structure may be submerged under this fragmentary appearance, these social relations appearing as fetishized fragments themselves constitute the actuality of capitalist society. Class position is never separate from the spontaneous and cultivated ideologies that crisscross social existence. Though embedded in the general cognition of its subjects, which always exists in excess of social formations, ideology follows closely behind the material recomposition of individuals out of self-consciousness of their class, dependent on all manner of “exterior” relationships ranging from the spurious to the deeply felt, into an infinite variety of social interest groups. Such mediations can be very intensive, dissolving wayward subjects within powerful structures of feeling, and able to appear as authentic products of one’s individual will. This is entailed by the specific fetish-structure of the capitalist social form, in which everyone is classified individually as commodity-sellers, merely distinguishable quantitatively. All are equal under bourgeois right, in a liberal harmony free from the materiality of systematic exploitation. In this sense, ideology emerges “spontaneously” from the social relations of capital. But fragmented identifications can also be cultivated, drawn out through deliberate attempts at “non-class composition”, in which ideological formations push people towards the liberal-democratic imperative to gain representation within the body politic (or attempt to commandeer it, as the case may be). Politics dominates class in capitalist society, displacing it in the appearance of an endlessly speciated but classless citizenry, as they variously campaign, petition, assemble, protest, advertise, analyze, persuade and sell to each other ad nauseum like carnival barkers.

The proliferation of ideological incoherence that we see in this moment, and its intensification over the turbulence of the preceding decades, reveals the extent of the crisis of bourgeois society today. The social logic of capital must be imposed and perpetuated within concrete circumstances, and so, while the circuit of capital accumulation can be grasped in abstraction from human particularity, its practical existence depends crucially on such situated, “extra-economic” ideological arrangements to tamp down class struggle, extract submission to hegemony, discipline capitalists who disrupt the balance, or keep people going to work when material compulsion is not enough. It must also gravitate towards the production of particular commodities, using particular technologies for particular markets. Capital would be content to produce qualityless widgets at ever-increasing scale indefinitely, but it is consigned to always stand in some bare relation to the social reproduction of those who bear its character-masks. We can refer to this kind of historicized picture of the social environment conducive to capital accumulation as a conjuncture, a joining together of incidental human concerns in a subordinate and form-determined manner, based upon the prevailing balance of class forces. 

Though the exhaustion of economic growth is systemic and global, it is not necessarily the case that the potential depression we face will constitute an existential crisis for the capitalist system. Indeed, economic crashes tend to facilitate capitalism’s longevity through the concentration and rationalization of the surviving capitals. The global proletariat is too dispersed and disorganized to mount a significant enough challenge when the decisive moments will call for it. But in order to successfully reorganize and perpetuate capitalist social relations for another business cycle, the entire ensemble of political, ideological, and proprietary relations might have to undergo seismic adjustments before resettling into a stable regime of accumulation. Masks will fall away. Class contradictions will become unbearable, straining, and tensing to breaking points. Even if not quite an existential crisis, we may be in the midst of a conjunctural crisis, a disruption that brings these relations within the contradictory totality into sharper relief through the struggle between classes, an explosive struggle of content within form.

In the following sections, we will elaborate some of the causes and consequences of the conjunctural crisis that is developing. In the section below, we will attempt to provide a basic etiology of several of the morbid symptoms that are starting to present themselves. We will set the current stimulus bills and monetary measures in the context of the chronic overleveraging of the credit system that has accompanied the global slump in production. It becomes clear that such maneuvers are first and foremost attempts to preserve the existing complex of asset titles and price levels in order to maintain the volume of financial claims on surplus value produced around the world that are at the core of contemporary imperialism, and only as a secondary matter provide scant relief for masses of workers at the hard edges of unemployment or infection risk. In section three, we examine the recent collapse of employment, widely posited as a temporary predicament but likely to leave long-term scars on the labor market, against the wider global patterns of underemployment and the consequences this has had for the social reproduction of the proletariat. In the final section, we will look at some of the political conflicts and class struggles that have exploded as a result of the pandemic crisis. Certain terrains of struggle are expanding, while others are closing, possibly pointing to the shape of class compositions to come. The fascistic ideological passions, particularly conspiracism, which have been enervating the right since 2008 are coalescing into organization and action in the service of big capital, while the tensions of the present begin to erupt as well in a new cycle of riots over police executions, exposing the sharp contradiction between our economic dependence on business as usual and the bodily vulnerabilities of we who bear it. These are just preliminary outbreaks, but they are worth tracing, as the abyss looming over future capital accumulation will continue to intensify such conflicts.

The prefiguration of even modest utopias then offers us nothing but a disengagement from examining the particular tendencies that overdetermine the present. Any move to preserve the stability of the present totality forestalls the possibility of its abolition. Likewise, the means of achieving this cannot be prefigured but must be derived from a concrete analysis of a concrete situation. The crisis maneuvers undertaken to date appear both unimaginable without such devastation, and yet also the bare minimum tolerable to assure that demands will not exceed the capacity of bourgeois will. We have yet to see the full scope of the developing economic crisis of capital, its exact depths and contours are still in indeterminate flux. Taking shape amidst this crisis-in-formation are political subjectivities emerging in the struggles born out of necessity. The renewed importance of political expressions reveals that history is not content to allow itself to appear as the indefinite neutral passage of time. It is this subjective, conscious action upon the objective, material factors of the present that determine if we will, in fact, be living through history. More than anything else, bourgeois society fears history. 

Necrosis

“Capitalist production constantly strives to overcome these immanent barriers, but it overcomes them only by means that set up the barriers afresh and on a more powerful scale.” – Marx 1981, Capital Vol. III, p. 358

This eternal fear of history leads to a tendency to distort time. The long crisis we are in presents itself as an indefinite series of small disasters that occasionally escalate into catastrophe. But their pattern and distribution reveals subterranean faultlines. Every successive business cycle follows the narrow conditions of profitability, and state policy follows the path of least resistance to ensure the bare minimum of capital accumulation, a process itself increasingly disjunct and subject to violent, incomplete cycles. Cyclical invigorations of economic activity in the advent of crisis has led to an indefinite state of debt-led growth regimes, forever deferring the arrival of the present by constantly hedging the future, only ever capable of momentarily extending the cheap credit lending and borrowing conditions necessary to reestablish a sense of general equilibrium, serving to make the barriers to reproduction increasingly insurmountable with every business cycle.

The latest iteration of this crisis management, the $2+ trillion CARES Act stimulus effort and the measures of the US Federal Reserve and Treasury Department, are fated to the same eternal return. While the bill is touted for its scope, every declaration that “this will save Main Street” reads as an insincere cliche. In practice, the stimulus package is already revealing itself to be a glorified bailout, a scaling up of now routine monetary practices that have kept capital afloat since the post-2008 “recovery” and determined by the crises preceding it. The dysfunctions in the implementation of the still-growing stimulus efforts reveal that much of the targeted elements serve only to give the appearance of a state apparatus that can adequately respond to the economic strains on the broader population. In truth, it’s all about keeping open lines of cheaply available credit to forestall the evaporation of fictitious investments heretofore unable to be realized through productive investment. It is life support for the existing arrangement of capitals. The collapse of smaller business capitals and the centralization of capital in more intensely concentrated industries remains an underlying dynamic crucial to capital’s survival at present, and therefore an inevitability.

The cracks in the foundation are becoming more and more visible as the expressed goals and concrete execution of the stimulus spending diverge. The initial $350 billion allocated in funding Payroll Protection Program (PPP) for small business lending was rapidly grabbed up, prompting an additional $320 billion in congressional funding allocation (and possibly more to come), as well as new guidelines from the Small Business Administration (SBA) on who qualifies, as large chain restaurants, hedge funds, and private equity firms had all applied for and acquired loans, meeting with public outrage. The new rule, however, does not prevent private equity-owned firms from applying for relief as long as applicants certify that “current economic uncertainty makes this loan request necessary.” As of April 20, 45% of the initial $350 billion went to larger companies who were borrowing more than $1 million, while merely 17% went to those applying for loans of less than $150,000. On a volume basis, those small businesses accounted for 74 per cent of the funds’ recipients. Following the racial composition of prior proletarianization in the US, black-owned businesses have suffered a disproportionately faster rate of closures and less aid. After public outrage, of the 234 public firms that received PPP loan funding, only 14 had promised to return the money. 

The $50 billion Payroll Support Program for airlines has also proven itself a simple matter to circumvent, as United Airlines received $5 billion from the US Treasury to retain staff, but is still cutting the hours of 15,000 workers. Despite the 120-day ban on evictions of tenants that reside in properties that receive federal subsidies or have federally-backed mortgages, these landlords are still executing evictions, and tenants in the rental market at large are left to a patchwork of state and municipal level measures of varying efficacy, themselves subject to even less capacity for enforcement. The only saving grace in many municipalities is that the courts have been closed, stalling what will become a wave of eviction filings. The temporary expansion of unemployment insurance benefits will likely never get to the mass of unemployed, as governors are cutting off new unemployment benefits before many applicants have even received their first checks, following the stresses to reopen their economies from the federal government, protests, and budgetary strains from the loss of sales tax revenue. Stimulus checks being sent to dead people offer an almost too poetic reflection of reality in this naked redistribution of social wealth to capital. Whatever might have remained of America’s mythic Main Street before this, it is surely now nothing more than an empty shell, upon which political parties will still hang their banners in the months to come.

Even as we watch stimulus efforts turn into a life support system for capital, turning our attention to the scale of response on the part of the US Treasury Department and Federal Reserve should relieve us of the illusion that they could be anything but. While central bank intervention and the stop-gap measures of governments have taken center-stage in the whirlwind timeline of the pandemic’s economic fallout, it must be remembered that these direct measures of intervention returned months before the pandemic. In September 2019, the unexpected spike in overnight money market rates led to a liquidity crisis in the repurchase agreement (repo) market, prompting swift intervention by the US Federal Reserve. The immediate trigger for this was the quarterly corporate tax payment deadline on September 16 leading to a high volume of withdrawals from bank and money market mutual fund accounts into the US Treasury’s account at the Federal Reserve, leaving bank reserves $120 billion light and unable to match the volume of repo market agreements in Treasury securities that required financing the next day. The resulting inflexibility in banks to increase lending from their thinning margin of excess reserves, in part due to reserve requirements imposed after the 2008 financial crisis, led to more loan requests from US financial institutions to the federal funds market, as banks resorted to Federal Home Loan Banks over interbank lending, leading to a decreased supply in federal funds lending and an excess demand among banks and financial institutions. Initial Fed intervention in September offered up to $53 billion in additional reserves and led to a decline in interest rates for lending, and the effective federal funds rate was lowered to stay within a stable target range. By mid-October, it appeared that this would not be enough to address the extent of the liquidity problem, as trade disputes signaled the possibility that the securitized loans at the base of this liquidity market might become non-performing, and the Federal Reserve announced it would be engaging in overnight repo operations of up to $60 billion a month. Over the course of 2019, the Fed cut the interest rate 3 times, almost down to zero, to stabilize reserves for lending in money markets, with plans to reassess in January 2020.

But the hopes for a resurgence of economic vitality were dashed by the beginning of the year, though these emergency actions themselves, implemented to counteract a turbulent environment for liquidity operations, should already have been a massive clue that this would be the case. In the bailout effort from the 2008 crisis, the quantitative easing operations undertaken by the Treasury and Federal Reserve, to keep markets solvent and credit available for lending through asset purchases, saw the Federal Reserve’s balance sheet expand by $4.5 trillion from 2010 to 2015. Furthermore, it cannot be forgotten that much of the global economy after the 2008 crisis was further bolstered by China’s debt stimulus fueled infrastructure projects, running a debt-fueled growth regime of roughly $586 billion USD. It was only by 2018 that the Federal Reserve began attempts to deleverage, though the gradual offloading of $800 billion in assets was met by stock market volatility and by September 2019 immediately met with this liquidity crisis set off in the repo markets. 

By early 2020, the emerging disturbances in Wuhan, the manufacturing metropole in the Hubei province of China, started roiling supply chains and put many key industries in danger of financial insolvency, thwarting the Federal Reserve’s expectations of rolling back its efforts and prompting escalated intervention in money markets and repo operations. The months of February, March, and April 2020 saw an unprecedented scale of operations, an expansion of the Fed’s repo market operations and a reintroduction of quantitative easing up to hundreds of billions of dollars in a whirlwind series of overnight decisions as global stock markets plunged. From February 24th to April 27th, the Federal Reserve expanded its balance sheet by $2.6 trillion to a total of roughly $7.1 trillion. These trends, having already been in motion, should sufficiently deflate any notions that the so-called fundamentals of the distant bourgeois god known as “the economy” were at all strong even months before the pandemic. The circulation of money capital itself appears incapable of operating without a ventilator.

Now, as part of stimulus efforts undertaken to avoid a depression at all costs, the Federal Reserve enters into new territory, the consequences of which remain to be seen. The precedent set by the government bond purchases that characterized the Federal Reserve’s post-2008 quantitative easing policy has left little terrain of movement than what is currently underway: the introduction of a wide variety of programs and lending facilities to directly purchase assets, now notably including corporate debt, via direct lending, buying bonds, and buying loans. What has rightly prompted even more concern about the possible outcomes of this hail mary is the Fed’s purchases of high-risk, high-yield corporate debt, known as junk-rated bonds, which could put what is effectively the world’s central bank towards a point of no return. This is all occurring with the facilitation of $2.3 trillion in credit lines opened through the newly fashioned lending facilities, and interest rates set almost at zero with speculations of going negative. In addition to the $3 trillion added to Fed capacity for liquidity support in the current quarter, largely from the stimulus efforts, the US Treasury expects to borrow a further $677 billion in the three months before September. Having already borrowed $477 billion in the first quarter of the year, it would bring the total amount to more than $4 trillion for the full fiscal year. As if the thin veil covering the obvious bailout underway was not enough, all pretense is stripped as a division of BlackRock, the world’s largest asset manager, has been hired by the Federal Reserve to act as the investment manager for three of the newly created lending facilities: two Fed-backed vehicles that will buy corporate bonds, and a program that will buy mortgage-backed securities issued by US government agencies. Furthermore, BlackRock can direct the Federal Reserve to purchase their own assets, including their own junk-rated exchange-trade fund (ETF) bonds, and BlackRock employees involved in this effort can use the knowledge they gained as advisors for trading purposes that benefit their own firm after a mere 2-week “cooling-off” period

Lest we make the mistake of thinking the Fed has merely gone rogue, let’s briefly consider the doctrine of negative interest rates recently implemented in the turbulent economies of other capitalist powers. Setting central bank deposit rates negative effectively charges a fee for storing money-capital, forcing banking institutions to dump their holdings into whatever asset markets seem remotely viable, thus “growing” the economy. Even before the US repo market liquidity crisis of September 2019, the European Central Bank (ECB) had dropped the deposit rate to -0.5%, the lowest on record, and initiated a new quantitative easing program of €20 billion per month in asset purchases, for the third time in a decade. The Bank of Japan (BOJ) followed suit, cutting rates in multiple rounds. The ECB and BOJ had both experimented with negative interest rates previously: the ECB in 2014 to shake off the slump from the 2011 sovereign debt crisis and at a time when the unemployment rate in the eurozone was ~12%; Japan in 2016 in a desperate bid to combat deflation. Though neither case worked as intended in the first iteration, each central bank sought this time to go even more negative to inject some activity into undeniably sagging growth. That the largest currency zones in the world all engaged in periodic and escalating programs of severe interest rate cuts and massive asset buyouts throughout the 2010s, and with little success, suggests not so much an extremist interpretation of mandate on the part of central banks, as some post-Keynesians accuse, but rather an expression of structural decrepitude. 

A cursory overview of Federal Reserve policy over the past few decades reveals that these new drastic measures actually reflect the limited range of motion available to mitigate crisis while still maintaining the reproduction of capitalist relations. The Volcker shock of 1979, in the unprecedented raising of interest rates with the intention of curbing inflation, set off a wave of unemployment in the US and cemented the finance-dominated global restructuring of industry that was progressively taking shape throughout the 1970s, ultimately meeting its own fate once again in the 1987 crash of the high-risk, high-yield junk bond market that fuelled the financial means of this global expansion. The ensuing neoliberal regime of accumulation from 1982-1997 unleashed growth in the expansion of industrial capital further into the Global South and peripheries, bolstering rates of profit, but nowhere near the highs prior to the downturn of the 1970s. Following the 1987 junk bond crash, the Federal Reserve of the 1990s, under the tenure of Alan Greenspan, saw the official onset of such practices dubbed by Robert Brenner as “asset price Keynesianiam,” cementing as official policy market capitalizations of publicly traded companies through direct liquidity support via lowering the Federal Funds Rate. This effectively freed up credit to stimulate asset price inflation, and with it an illusory “wealth effect” in which personal fortunes and GDP alike depended on low-interest rates. The rise in pension funds and the doctrine of shareholder value, now with official backing in Federal Reserve policy, left the US economy perpetually subject to and ultimately dependent on the inflation of asset bubbles. This culminated first in the chain of events set off by the East Asian crisis of 1997, itself the cumulative effect of the Japanese banking crisis of the 1980s that would domino into a real estate bubble in Thailand by the early 1990s, resulting in a series of chain reactions throughout the region that spilled over into the Western economies through the collapse of the Long-Term Capital Management Hedge Fund in 1998 and the dotcom bubble crash of 2000. Asset price valuations have long been the driving force of the projection of vitality for capital, not the expansion of production, which has long been redundant and overproducing due to a high organic composition of capital. The terrain of expansion is increasingly insufficient relative to the mass of capital valuations it requires. Expansion must take the shape of an upward ticker in stock market activity. Anything else would be effective suicide. The 2008 housing bubble that ripped through the credit-reliant construction and real estate industries prompted the Federal Reserve to respond with both lowering rates and direct asset purchases in quantitative easing. 

While private capital requires a relatively autonomous state to assist in guaranteeing reproduction, these roles have increasingly become intermeshed, forming neither a state takeover of the free market, as bemoaned by devotees of the invisible hand, nor the gutting of the state, as often decried by left critics of “neoliberalism”. What we see is rather a reflection of the growing centralization of capital and its concentration within specific spheres of industry, in this case, the banking and finance sector involved in controlling circulatory flows of money-capital, drawing the international state system into a more coordinated global regime of accumulation that cannot cohere due to global overaccumulation of capital. The instance of BlackRock’s direct involvement in directing Federal Reserve corporate debt purchases reveals that the world’s most powerful central banking institution’s status as “lender of last resort” has been resorted to so frequently in recent history that it has effectively displaced the executive as the central “committee for managing the common affairs of the whole bourgeoisie.” Financial accumulation to this degree has meant that global manufacturing overcapacity and declining output can only be continually managed by an ever more swelling and carefully attenuated market regime, a regime where accumulation primarily occurs through the cornering of market shares through appropriations of the flows of realizable surplus value via property-based mechanisms of capital acquisitions that consolidate firms. We see here the rise of multinational conglomerates with massive asset portfolios that allow them to dominate the labor of large swaths of the global working class in both direct and indirect ways. Due to the decline in complete accumulation by means of reproductive expansion, credit becomes increasingly important to maintaining the continuity of economic functions, and thus the appearance of capital writ large as profit-making via price speculations and fictitious profit generation. 

Now that the future is arriving, decades of political imperatives to buttress risk at all costs in order to maintain dominance has left too many landmines. The federal government’s insurance of risky corporate debt poses a new problem, of which the outcome is still unknown. The IMF raised the alarm over a $19 trillion corporate debt “time bomb” in its Global Financial Stability Report in October of 2019. Tobias Adrian and Fabio Natalucci, two senior IMF officials, said of their findings, “We look at the potential impact of a material economic slowdown [that would trigger said “time bomb”] – [requiring only] one that is half as severe as the global financial crisis of 2007-08. Our conclusion is sobering: debt owed by firms unable to cover interest expenses with earnings, which we call corporate debt at risk, could rise to $19 trillion. That is almost 40% of total corporate debt in the economies we studied.” To place this alarming conclusion in the present context, the impact of the present crisis in the lockdown periods results in a global average rate of GDP growth of -3.0%, as estimated by the IMF. For further context, the impact of the Global Financial Crisis of 2009 was -0.1%. Two trillion dollars of corporate debt is set to be rolled over this year, and according to findings from the OECD, more than half of all outstanding investment-grade corporate bonds have a BBB credit rating, just one grade above junk status. If we want to understand why such intensive measures are being taken by central banks at the present moment to keep credit lines open and available, there it is. To date, US companies have continued to take on debt, borrowing a year’s worth of cash in the past 5 months alone. Here we find something of the double edged sword of liquidity. Everything may be done to maintain the circulation of money-capital in hopes of realizing a prospective value, but circulation itself yields nothing. Merely adding to the money supply might throw things into a sense of motion, but it may still do so with no traction. Now, as the threat of hyperinflation looms, Goldman Sachs has begun establishing short positions on the US dollar, anticipating the currency’s devaluation and preparing to make a profit on it. For all that is made of the Federal Reserve and its role, it is clearly only buckling under the pressure of what is required to maintain capital at present, and that is cheap credit and viable conditions for lending by any means necessary.

Amputation

“The greater the social wealth, the functioning capital, the extent and energy of its growth, and, therefore, also the absolute mass of the proletariat and the productivity of its labour, the greater is the industrial reserve army. The same causes which develop the expansive power of capital, also develop the labour power at its disposal. The relative mass of the industrial reserve army thus increases with the potential energy of wealth. But the greater this reserve army in proportion to the active labour army, the greater is the mass of a consolidated surplus population, whose misery is in inverse ratio to the amount of torture it has to undergo in the form of labour. The more extensive, finally, the pauperized sections of the working class and the industrial reserve army, the greater is official pauperism. This is the absolute general law of capitalist accumulation.” – Marx 1976, Capital Vol. I, p. 798

Meanwhile, unemployment has skyrocketed with no end in sight, stimulated by the shelter in place orders instituted around the country. The official count of unemployment insurance filings are, as of the time of publication, roughly 40.8 million since mid-March, adding to the existing 7.1 million already on UI, with the US real unemployment rate in April reaching a post-WWII high of 14.7%. The measurement that month for the U6 rate, which includes workers precariously employed and involuntarily part-time for economic reasons and is by definition higher than “real unemployment,” was at 22.8%. Given that data collection for the most recent surveys are affected by the pandemic, these figures are underestimations of the actual number of people suffering significant cuts to their income. At the beginning of June, the financial press and the state’s economic advisors touted a success in an apparent employment resurgence, as 2.5 million jobs were “created” and the unemployment rate fell to 13.3%. U6 only dropped down to 21.2%. While temporary lay-offs declined from 18.1 million to 15.3 million in May, the number of permanent job losses increased from 2 million to 2.3 million. Furthermore, the US Labor Department already conceded making errors in the employment classifications of the May report, including counting 4.9 million temporarily laid-off people as employed, revealing that any “impressive” numbers are in fact quite deceptive. 

It appears quite clear that this, rather than a resilient economy arising like a phoenix from the ashes of its immolation, is more likely a reflection of just how weak efforts to reopen have been thus far. While leisure and hospitality services appear to be hailed as a sector surging back to work, the unemployment rate for this sector is still at 35.9%. Government unemployment is also continuing to surge, as 1.6 million were unemployed in this sector the last two months alone, following the contours of austerity we can expect in any attempts at “recovery.” We still have yet to see the full effects on long-term unemployment that the threats of a second wave of COVID-19 infections may have, and further what will happen to economic activity once additional funding for unemployment relief halts in July, should a stimulus effort here not be repeated. It is now still estimated that at least 42% of recent layoffs will result in permanent job loss. In the US, it is also clear that this wave of unemployment is cutting along prior racializations of labor precarity, with hispanic and black workers facing disproportionately higher rates of unemployment than white workers. Globally, the International Labor Organization estimates that 1.25 billion workers, 40% of the total global workforce,  are employed in sectors vulnerable to cuts in hours due to expected declines in output. Counted in lost hours, we can expect the equivalent of 305 million full-time jobs to disappear, constituting 10.5% of the worldwide total work hours in the last pre-crisis quarter, suggesting underemployment will far outstrip the unemployment numbers alone. In the vast informal sector in which 60% of workers eke out a living, there was a 60% decline in earnings in the first month of lockdowns, and as high as 81% in Africa and Latin America. Since a missed day’s work means missed income full stop, informal workers will, in the words of the ILO, “face this dilemma: die from hunger or die from the virus.”

At the end of their recent report linked above, the ILO advocates strong “labor market institutions” and “well-resourced social protection systems” to ensure a “job-rich recovery.” This comes off as idealistic and naive when set against the context of the global slump of the last few decades, in which the fundamental reproductive institution for proletarians, wage labor, has increasingly given way to the uncertainties and tribulations of wageless life. The growth of informality itself is a consequence of the rising organic composition of capital, a tendency where the double bind at the core of the capitalist value-form – between socially necessary labor-time, the first determinant of the value that can be realized on the market given prevailing technical and social conditions of production, and surplus labor, which marks the proportion of this value which can be appropriated by the capitalist above the costs of production – ratchets production in the direction of secular, systemic and often “premature” deindustrialization, permanently expelling millions of workers from manufacturing in several rounds of restructuring since the end of the post-war boom. There is a persistent decline in labor demand and in labor share of income, as the capitalist class reorganizes the labor process, suppresses wage growth, and opens barriers to capital, yoking workers of the world into a single giant labor market exploited as nodes in logistics chains increasingly stationed in exurban peripheries, still dependent upon the social wage fund, but perpetually underemployed. The “working class” strives daily to survive but less and less of this work itself is integrated into the circuit of valorization of capital. 

The incapacity of the global economy to adequately generate jobs is evidenced in the travails of youth unemployment. As new entrants into the labor market, young workers are subject to whatever potential economic growth may or may not contain for the reproduction of the working class intergenerationally and as such give us a glimpse of future trends. In the months before the pandemic, youth unemployment (ages 15-24) was at 13% globally, and up to ~40% in the Middle East and North Africa, a steady rise from 2008. In addition to the more temporary unemployment rates, youth labor force participation is at an all-time low, with 21% of young people fully disengaged from the economy or education. Of those working, 80% of young workers around the world are in informal work, as opposed to 60% of older adults. And young workers have to travel farther to find the work they do have: 70% of labor migrants are under the age of 30. There are several reasons for this dismal state of affairs. First, there is an increase in early school dropouts, due to precarity at home and the need for children to labor, usually either to take over housework for an older caretaker who is out earning money or to join the informal workforce themselves, often permanently barring them from ever obtaining stable, formal employment. Simultaneously, there are diminishing returns on higher education, with longer transition times between school and work, and for consistently less compensation relative to costs and time spent in education, with these transition times increasingly uncorrelated with education level, instead reflecting job availability. This latter fact can perhaps be accounted for by the overall trajectory of work composition, with semi-skilled jobs evaporating in favor so-called low-skilled (that is, low-paid) work. Entry-level jobs are becoming less compensatory on average, and often lead only to a quagmire of dead-end work – nearly 40% of youth fail to transition to stable jobs even when they are older, a phenomenon referred to as “scarring” by the ILO to describe how failed labor market integration in youth follows workers around for many years into their adulthood. 

The rhetoric of scarring suggests a kind of stigma that marks each worker as they travel through life, euphemizing and obscuring what is actually a structural inability of developing economies to adequately absorb new workers. This is especially egregious when considering that job prospects are so stagnant compared to population growth that the global economy will need to generate 5 million new jobs each month just to keep unemployment rates constant, a veritable pipe dream now. Finally, young workers are especially vulnerable to long term scarring from the pandemic crisis. They are generally more sensitive to recessions, experiencing steeper inclines in the unemployment rate as they are laid off before older coworkers. In addition to the aforementioned overrepresentation in informal work, young workers are more likely to have precarious job arrangements, such as gig work, and make up the primary workforce for the retail, hospitality, and food service industries that are most affected by the lockdowns. Jobs among youth are composed of automatable tasks at a higher rate, leaving them uniquely susceptible to automation-based job loss, both historically and in the future as companies seize the vacuum left by the pandemic to rationalize their production costs. The very ability of capitalism to sustain the bare reproduction of the proletariat within the exigencies of accumulation is receding over the horizon.

This dialectical process of subsuming creative labor-power, replacing it wherever possible with machinic repetition of motion and cutting the human being loose (so fundamental that Marx referred to it as the general law of capitalist accumulation) is exacerbated by a parallel bloodbath in which masses are newly proletarianized in droves. Between 1980 and 2000, the global workforce doubled in size, before adding a further 1.3 billion workers by 2019. These increases came from the absorption of workers following the full integration into global capital of the USSR and China (who were not previously counted), but significant segments came from a wave of land grabs, from agribusiness and extractive industries, and debt traps, where subsistence peasants forced into the market take out loans and microfinance to counteract losses from intensified global competition, effectively abolishing the smallholding peasantry as a significant class, pushing them to the margins of the market in labor-power as new proletarians. That capital is little prepared or interested in incorporating the swollen ranks of the reserve army of labor is evidenced in the massive growth of exurban slums and crowded megacities, with hinterlands many hours from the new factories. Any given person may cycle through a job relevant to the production of value for a time, but each individual, especially in the age of longer, more treacherous and more frequent migrations, is strictly expendable. The condition of dependence on the labor market for bare subsistence is generalized, but the labor market is everywhere shedding labor to cut costs.

These are the material circumstances that overdetermine possible economic recoveries from recessions, which have been increasingly jobless, with the restoration of employment levels to pre-recession rates taking longer in each of the last five recessions, lagging behind other indicators. Returning to the US, the Great Recession took a full ten years to recover in this sense, and even this has been uneven, with unemployment rates officially higher than before 2007 in more than 90% of metro areas. But more significant than the literal number of jobs is the stagnant wage level, which was flat between 2002 and 2014, only recently producing modest gains. Labor force participation has declined absolutely from ~66% in 2008 to ~63% in 2019, causing long term unemployment to creep up as a proportion of total unemployment. At least 1.5 million adults had effectively dropped out of the workforce, and therefore unemployment rate statistics, by 2017. There were also significant shufflings, as jobs permanently shifted from some sectors to others. New jobs tended to be paid less, receive less benefits, have less long-term prospects and schedule less hours. Ninety-five percent of jobs created since 2005 have been independent contracting, temporary, part-time or on-call. Indeed, some of the most visible and celebrated innovations of the new “recovery economy” were gig platform-middlemen like Uber, lauded for “disrupting” and redefining work itself. The average tenure at these shit jobs has dropped to 4.4 years, and the rates of switching jobs, endlessly churning over in the vain search for better pay, hopped to record highs amongst the growing proportion of low-wage workers as of 2019. In short, the capacity of the economy to support wage growth in proportion to productivity growth, to proffer the expected quality of life from the postwar boom that both left and right nationalists nostalgically yearn for, is severely truncated as the dynamics of accumulation place hard limits on profitable exploitation. Meanwhile the remaining “decent” jobs are left to get cyclically hollowed out as the political consensus has converged on a program of constantly escalating the gutting process.

Against these dwindling fortunes, the severe contraction in income seen in the last two months will rip holes in the tattered safety net of private household finance. Earlier this year, the Fed found that 39% of Americans could not cover an unexpected $400 expense without going into debt, if at all. Ten percent already could not cover existing bills. This is a small wonder when 58% have less than $1000 in savings at any one time. Many have become dependent on side hustles to make ends meet. Meanwhile, the costs of living have gone up. Transportation costs have grown 54% as average commute times have lengthened, which can be correlated with housing prices, now accounting for 9.2% of total household expenditures. Food expenses as share of income have remained steady at 10%, except for the lowest quintile of households, where it has grown to 35%

After $19.2 trillion in household wealth completely evaporated with the 2008 mortgage and subsequent retirement savings crisis, homeownership, long a mainstay in the US middle-class reaction formation, has increasingly given way to renting, with the renter population growing 10% between 2001 and 2015, primarily among older people. Median rent has gone up 32% over the same time period, as median income has fallen 0.1%.  Thirty-eight percent of renters are rent-burdened, forking over at least 30% of their monthly income to their landlords, and 17% severely so, paying over 50% of their income. Of this severely rent-burdened population, the Pew Research Center found that over half had less than $10 in liquid assets in 2015. This bleeding out of savings quickly began to hemorrhage with the onset of the pandemic. On April 1, just two weeks after the initial spike in unemployment, 31% of renters did not pay their landlords. This dropped down to 20% in May, mostly due to the arrival of the one-time stimulus checks. Some percentage of this constitutes a newly politicized bloc of rent strikers and tenant unions, a trend that we will return to below, but the vast majority must be understood as the disorganized fallout of the abrupt plunge into wagelessness – especially when considering that 19% already missed rent every month before the pandemic.

For homeowners, the situation is also grim. In the largest single-month gain on record, US home loan delinquencies surged by 1.6 million in April. The proportion of loans over 30 days delinquent rose to 6.45%, with 3.4 million loans delinquent and another 211,000 properties now scheduled for foreclosure. While federal relief efforts aim to address this and avoid the foreclosure wave following 2008 that is seared into the collective memory, the sum total of these efforts are a forbearance program to delay payments for a six-month period without penalty, which assumes a sharper rebound in an economic recovery than any forecast can yet foretell. As of May 12, 4.7 million borrowers are in forbearance on their loans. As for businesses, commercial mortgage backed securities (CMBS) are in a severely precarious position, as it was announced that $45 billion of loans bundled into US CMBS were overdue and entering “grace periods” in April. Of these, the Mall of America’s $1.4 billion mortgage is now delinquent, sending the threat of a ripple of contagion throughout the rest of the market. To complicate the perils of the US CMBS market and fallout effects on retail further, a whistleblower in 2019 revealed systemic efforts to inflate profits and wipe losses from the records of these loans, adjustments that served to continue CMBS lending and inflate the valuation of these sectors so that borrowers appear more creditworthy and credit can be extended. A familiar scenario. Facing risks of default exacerbated by the contraction in activity in hotels and retail, the potential fall in the wake of this bubble is all the more precipitous. This will necessarily also foreclose employment for millions more, and those home loans in forbearance may require more than six months to avoid delinquency.

This disparity is made up for with debt. Peaking in 2008, the US household debt to GDP ratio has settled around 76%, while the debt to income ratio was at 96%, as of 2017. Auto lending in particular has taken off, 20% of which are subprime loans made secure to the lender with the implementation of remotely-controlled devices that the lender can use to interrupt the car’s starter when the loan is delinquent. Severe delinquencies (90+ days without payment) have doubled for both auto and student loan debt since 2004, the latter being the fastest growing type of household debt. Credit card debt was actually decreasing over the last few years, until March of this year, when it spiked 23%, presumably as people scrambled to hold their lives together in the absence of real income. We can expect this trend to worsen.

Observing this ongoing breakdown of the wage relation’s legitimacy in guaranteeing reproduction, we can apprehend the trajectory of its deterioration through the concept of a “social wage fund.” We can define the social wage fund as the aggregate of personal wage compensation, benefits spending, and state expenditures on public infrastructure, social welfare and common resources; in short, the general costs of production in variable capital and business operations taxation that capitalists must forfeit for purposes of general social reproduction and which impinges on the rate of profit. As the rate of profit and the rate of accumulation slug downwards, there is a struggle over the value of labor-power as capitalists tighten the vice grip it holds over this fund, both at the point of origin in the diminishing payouts received by proletarians for their labor and through intensified recuperation with the privatization and commodification of everything possible. This leaves the totality of social reproduction in an increasingly fragile and vulnerable state, with more and more people being expelled from the material community of capital to attempt to survive in abjection. We have already covered the decline in real wages and wage-labor conditions at some length, but to really understand what is at stake in the downturn and subsequent intensification of class warfare we will cursorily detail the pattern of deterioration of social infrastructure, which has many manifestations too numerous to fully expand on.

We will briefly summarize the nature of the class conflicts over healthcare insurance in order to demonstrate the particular limits that healthcare imposes. There is an intrinsic relation between the declining investments of variable capital that compose the social wage fund, and the process of externalizing costs of labor’s reproduction in the capitalist subsumption of healthcare services. In the production process, the value of labor-power constitutes a diversion of the quantity of value expropriated by the capitalist, primarily in the form of reluctantly doling out wages. The value of labor-power is defined by Marx as the sum of values of the necessary goods which go into the reproduction of the worker. The ratio of this to the total value formation, as set by the socially necessary labor time of the commodity, brackets the entirety of surplus value, the increase of which is the sole aim of capital, and the necessary condition for its material reproduction. As the socially necessary labor time of commodities generally drops, the value magnitudes obtainable from the market drop as well, reflected in the volatile movement of prices outside of various special conditions. This constitutes a perennial and even existential problem for capital that underlies the tendency for the fall in the rate of profit, driving it along a winding, nonlinear path towards the breakdown of reproduction. If the value of labor-power were fixed in place, this would constitute a severe problem for capital accumulation, and indeed it did as the growth engine of postwar expansion dwindled to a low hum in the mid-1970s, crashing into the floor set by a historic height of wage levels in the imperial core that reflected the balance of class forces rising from the corporatist union-mediated labor accord. The struggle over the value of labor-power has been central to a countertendency to this crisis, through labor market arbitrage, wage suppression, and the “organic” decline of the value of labor-power, as necessary goods cheapen due to the improvements in necessary labor times mentioned above. Having once been necessitated by the Great Depression, the persistent escalation of conflict pushed by the proletariat and the resulting conjunctural crisis of the interwar period, the succeeding interregnum saw the progressive deterioration of proletarian class composition, midwifed by ruthless anti-communist containment worldwide and bureaucratic anti-militancy in the labor movement. This set the conditions for the boss’s offensive and neoliberal restructuring that enabled a minor but insufficient rally in the rate of profit between 1982 and 1997 before exhausting itself into the slump we are in today.

An apt metonym for the effect that this process has had on the extreme and preventable fatality rate of COVID-19 in the US might be the recent flash floods in Midland, MI, as two dams burst, forcing 10,000 people to evacuate and flushing a Federal superfund site near the Dow Chemical plant into the watershed. The dams are privately owned, by Boyce HydroPower, who bought the dams but refused to finance their retrofitting and maintenance, leading to their inability to withstand high water flow. Over half of the dams in the US are privately owned by energy companies, large landowners, and private equity firms in an increasingly crowded “public infrastructure market”. Reconfiguring basic infrastructure as a new revenue-generating asset class has only intensified a long pattern of systematic disinvestment, leading to pronounced physical degradation. The private companies investing in them often have their profits secured through predatory contracts with municipalities which guarantee that any losses are covered through taxes, leaving little interest in that wasteful and unproductive enterprise of routine maintenance. The incremental excision of all state expenditure on public goods, in waves of austerity forced through over a decimated workers’ movement, has affected nearly every facet of life. Similar patterns of privateering and disinvestment, with the added dynamic of ruthless rent-seeking at every access point, has left the medical system with enough cracks in it to buckle against the floodwaters of infection.

There are a number of components that make up the blanket healthcare system in the US, each subsumed by capital in their own way, contributing to an infrastructure defined by extremely patchy coverage, absurd costs and declining, uneven quality. The dilemma for capital, starkly revealed now by the willful sacrifice of thousands of lives a day, is between, one the one side, allowing for the expansion of the social wage fund that robust public health measures would require, and thus cut into the already suffering rate of profit, and, on the other, letting the general health of the populace decline to the point where it cuts into productivity. Historically, the US capitalist class has opted to thread this needle very close to the bare minimum, foisting more miseries and indignities onto the working class as increasing portions come to contribute to the economy not primarily as labor-power, but as “medical consumers.” The private healthcare industry has a unique position within the wider historical process of declining profitability and the suppression of the social wage fund. 

We relate this to the long-term deterioration of the public health and healthcare system in the US, constituting a kind of class-based triage, which underlies the current difficulties it faces with COVID-19 and going some way to explaining the unique severity of the pandemic here in the US. Generally, we can characterize the trend in healthcare profiteering as one of partial subsumption which, though this situation would normally hurt the growth of an industry, has been circumnavigated with the ability to exploit the inelastic demand of a captive market, due to healthcare’s place as a central pillar of necessary social reproduction. Marx used the example of the architect to explain how our cognitive capacities enable us to change our environment, and therefore our own natures, but a more fitting example might be the physician, fundamentally transforming the ways we inhabit our bodies.

Capital progressively subsumes social life into relation with it. Social reproduction as a real category, that is, as a series of concrete activities oriented towards the maintenance of populations, is itself a consequence of this process of subsumption, as capital institutes a rigorous separation between work and life activities. The inclusion of public health and healthcare within social reproduction means that it is organized out of the social wage fund, and represents a cost within the value of labor-power. It is unsurprising then that the first battles over the funding source and method of distribution emerged as dependence on the wage became generalized at the turn of the century with the rise of US industrial prominence. Struggles over the definition and administration of public health measures emerged directly out of the work of reformist leagues attempting to sanitize urban slums and agitation on the part of workers to improve their working conditions in the first decades of the 20th century. The hazards of life for industrial workers lead to the development of a hodge-podge of illness, accident and death insurance plans, originally created to overcome the chronic unemployment that would leave them wageless to fend for themselves. Such plans were often perpetually low on funds, with premiums still too high for many workers, in part from strict price controls for drugs, hospital care and medical services maintained by reactionary professional lobbies that functioned as cartels at the time, such as the American Medical Association and American Hospital Association. 

More important than these plans were the union-sponsored clinics, attempts by workers to directly organize medical services in conjunction with medical professionals, some of which still exist. The first insurance benefits offered by employers were specifically to attack these meager but autonomous worker organizations while undermining unions generally, a reaction to the balance of class forces shifting in the direction of labor that had been building with the union movement. The 1930s saw the widespread adoption of the hospital model of distributing care, as they became attractive “cost centers,” stimulating the parallel growth of the private voluntary insurance industry. As the network of independent worker clinics was displaced by the hospital system, the battle lines moved and workers began to fight for insurance plans and other forms of payment support rather than for direct control over the care itself. In other words, they increasingly had to accept the terms of commodification. But the inadequacy of union insurance plans and the conditional nature of employer plans, based on the principle of “cost-sharing,” lead to agitation for publicly funded coverage. The American Federation of Labor of Samuel Gompers, its latent conservatism coming to the fore as the wave of interwar class struggles began to crest in the early 1930s, opposed universal coverage on the grounds that it would counteract the unions’ appeal, as it would cover union members and nonmembers alike.

Within this struggle, workers attempted to connect public health with working conditions, pointing to occupational hazards, chronic conditions and illnesses plaguing the industrial labor force by exerting influence primarily through control over the shop floor. As the Depression plunged millions into poverty, there was a rash of lawsuits over workplace injury and disease seeking remuneration from employers. The climate of ascendant labor struggles pushed the courts in a direction more sympathetic to labor and the framework for worker’s compensation policies began to emerge from this era of case law. But as shop-floor control was wrested away with the move from militancy towards normalized business relations, worker’s compensation became the official solution to dangerous and harmful work environments, not autonomy in the workplace enabling improved conditions. The labor movement, having initiated the first organizations of mass healthcare and public health, was outmaneuvered and had forfeited its conflictual and definitive place within the management of social reproduction for a position firmly outside of it, consigned to negotiating for access from across the counter. In the midst of these battles, both unions, with massively expanded memberships beyond the administrative capacities of the old clinics, and the bosses, eager for cheap concessions that would not give in to unions and lessen their domination, increasingly began to turn towards private, third-party insurance schemes.

With the Federal government guaranteeing industrial profits with the “cost plus” financing plans during WWII, more companies bought plans for their employees. This generalized in the post-war period, with coverage for unionized workers expanding from 625,000 beneficiaries to 30 million between 1945 and 1954. This new paradigm gave ample room for expansion. Hospitals, traditionally treated as community utilities, were becoming high-tech complexes with large staffs and overheads. Nurses and other hospital workers began to unionize themselves, driving their wages up. Hospital services went up in cost, which insurance companies made no attempts to negotiate back down, preferring to raise premiums. Meanwhile, though union involvement in medicine had its origins in coverage for the unemployed, healthcare access had become a matter conditional on employment and union representation. The social forces were growing for another push at universal healthcare, as reformist organizations joined with unions to mobilize the uninsured. They struggled to manage benefits for retiring members, particularly the elderly, culminating in the creation of Medicare and Medicaid. These proved to be the high watermark, incomplete as they are, in the aborted project of constructing a national health insurance. These programs became frequent targets for irate conservatives or slick neoliberals looking for governmental bloat to trim in times of austerity, as the program funds were increasingly eyed as a revenue source for insurance companies.

The relatively lucrative balance of class forces in the immediate postwar period that was produced by labor struggles started to unravel in the general conjunctural crisis of the 1970s. A severe depression, coming in two waves, inaugurated the long descent of the general rate of profit, as new global competition in trade and industrial overcapacity killed the engine of growth. This had two major impacts on public health. First, as stated above, the share of value diverted to the social wage fund for the maintenance and social reproduction of living conditions began to exert a pronounced strain on the total formation of value, and therefore on surplus value. This is a constant tension, experiencing perpetual movement, and depends on the overall balance of class forces, but is exacerbated during declines in profitability. In short, the capitalist class supports a high quality of life, both in terms of wage growth and in terms of political support for public benefits, when they can afford to, when it serves their interests and, especially, when the working class has the organizational strength to push demands. When they cannot afford it, the need to recuperate costs overdetermines the ground for any such capitulations, and, when the working class is weakened, such progress can be reversed. As a widespread boss’ offensive kicked off in the 1970s and 80s, union membership declined and real wages were forced into a perpetual stasis, cutting off avenues to healthcare for many workers, fundamentally altering the course of public health. Second, as US capital progressively deindustrialized, it entered the current period of high “financialization,” in which accumulation was systematically oriented towards firms that manipulated the global circulation of capital to extract profit. This process facilitated massive bubbles of surplus capital with low rates of accumulation, i.e. declining reinvestment into valorization activity, that flowed into many non-marketized areas, precipitating massive pressures of privatization. A wave of mergers and acquisitions followed, concentrating capital and “juicing up” the rate of profit, to a slight degree, between 1982 and 1997. This era saw the infusion of capital into the medical industry in a project of restructuring the entire apparatus of public health. The net effect of this has been to severely limit access to healthcare for large swaths of proletarians, at a multitude of access points.

Medical conglomerates, encompassing hospitals and care facilities, private practices, pharmacies, insurance, research, and pharmaceutical companies, were structured to extract as much profit as possible out of the business of care. Outside of the production of drugs and equipment, healthcare companies are not engaged in directly valorizing value (that is, “producing capital”) in the traditional sense. Rather, they are more akin to landlords and other rentiers, creating gated access to a necessary resource for which they charge admission, ultimately deriving their incomes by capturing circulating surplus value in finance and, more to our point, predating upon the social wage fund. Such rentier capitalists actually stand to gain from increasing the portion of capital that goes towards the social wage fund, and therefore stand in competition with industrial capitalists who instead seek to suppress this to maximize their share of surplus value. But this division between the interests of healthcare rentiers and that of industrial capitalists is not so clear-cut when placed in the context of class struggle and the long downturn. As already discussed, third party insurers and private hospitals provided a means for capitalists to recuperate their upperhand in workplace conflicts over worker control of the shop and union-run clinics. Furthermore, the commodification of medicine facilitated the envelopment of healthcare and wellbeing into the wage itself, rather than in a social form that would be less easily subsumed and more ambiguous with respect to the value-form, like independent, universally accessible clinics. Because workers had to purchase care as a set of services and products on the market, a minimum standard of health could not be universalized or maintained but instead became incidental, a consequence of choices and the “anarchy of the market,” an externalized cost burden outside of capital’s concern as soon as paychecks were issued, perhaps with a deduction for the employee contribution to medical insurance.

The history of healthcare in the US up to this point can be viewed in retrospect as a period of potential alternative paths that, through union forfeiture and accommodation, became a patchy system begging for reform. The politicization of medicine had returned in the 1960s ready for another fight, but it had run head-long into the conjunctural crisis of the 1970s and, already vulnerable, became fertile ground for commodification. But as we stated, healthcare is only partially subsumed and is in fact inherently resistant to subsumption, due to a particular tension arising from its concrete qualities. Unlike manufacturing, the labor of caring for human health is subtle, complex and requires significant attention and is therefore not easily rationalized or automated. This is true of many services, but is subject to even more limitations than, say, retail. The “raw material” being “worked over,” so to speak, is the human body, not a substrate that is malleable in the hands of labor. Revolutionizing the production process to raise productivity rates and relative surplus value, the primary tool of capitalists to increase their profits, is not so much an option for capitalists wanting to make money off of medical services. This core contradiction, which is an aspect of the contradiction between human social reproduction and the expanded reproduction of capital, drives many of the trends within healthcare, exacerbated in the US due to a special political unwillingness to shield healthcare from the dictates of capital. Care labor productivity is fiddled with through various managerial schemes over the work process, technological assistance and expanded division of labor (the usual mechanisms) but it is nonetheless persistently sticky and productivity gains are largely static. Capitalists cannot opt out of seeking profit, however (and even nonprofit institutions have been known to turn a profit), and as a result must pursue margins by driving down wages, diversifying revenue streams, raising prices and lowering the cost of care (and therefore also its quality).

Obamacare fits into a genre of schemes euphemized as “managed competition,” a highpoint in the feckless loyal opposition of the Democratic party, a perfect mix of corporate write-offs that could still be decried as socialism by the right. This paradigm, first developed by RAND Corporation logistics analyst Alain Enthovan, emphasized the reorganization of medicine into managerial sponsors who would choose from competing health plans on behalf of patients, supposedly optimizing based on abstruse cost-benefit models. This structure ensures that private insurance companies can harvest pre-set capitation fees from publicly administered trust funds, employers and individuals, which, unlike fee-for-service payment structures used previously, ensures a much more stable revenue stream that can be used as capital for these companies to diversify investments. Managed competition was rejected by the Carter Administration in 1977, but was subsequently promoted in countries in the Global South by the World Bank, and has served as a means of plundering the public sector social security funds in Latin America, Asia and Africa by private insurers, mostly based in the US. Hilary Clinton headed a task force in the 1990s, which helped jump-start her later political career, devising healthcare reform legislation based on managed competition, which was not passed by Congress. It later cropped up in Massachusetts in the form of Romneycare. After receiving the largest campaign donation from the private health insurance industry to any candidate in history, Obama adopted a managed competition reform plank, moving away from his previous support for a single-payer plan. The result, after endless tortured floor debate, was the Affordable Care Act (ACA), which actually increased insurance company profits directly from increased Medicare capitation fees.

Obamacare stopped short of, and in fact never aimed at, abolishing for-profit insurance and healthcare provision; as such, its structure, written with the help of insurance lobbyists, is sensitive to the kinds of distortions that profit creates. While many private insurers still derive most of their income from contracts with big employers, there is still a tendency to avoid the ACA “marketplaces” and managed care organizations (MCOs). Nonetheless, like elsewhere, the public money pot, here in the form of pre-negotiated capitation fees, has proven to be quite lucrative. Public hospitals that historically have provided the safety net for the remainders and margins of capitalist public health, such as the beleaguered county hospitals, now compete directly with private companies for public funding. This has prompted budget cuts and reductions in services, and even set off a wave of closures. Obamacare was intended, at least nominally, to plug the holes and provide coverage for the 40 million uninsured Americans. To this end, it defines a minimum benefits package mediated by the MCOs in order to provide the floor for coverage, purposely allowing room for a variety of tiering schemes for those able to pay more. This way insurers and providers could avoid the burden of actually providing universal coverage through a labyrinth of hedging strategies, all of which tend to reduce quality and restrict access. 

There are three ways to look at healthcare spending: unit cost of service, unit price of service, and the quantity or rate of utilization, which are, of course, interrelated. For providers, keeping costs low, prices high and utilization frequent ensures maximum profitability; for insurers, not wanting to pay for such mounting costs, the incentive is to negotiate the unit price down – or push this cost onto the insured and do what they can to manage utilization. The cost structure in medical care is complex, but generally providers, like any business, want to suppress their own operation costs. Corporate restructuring of medical provision has tended to integrate both vertically, in the steadily rising rate and size of mergers and acquisitions, and horizontally, in the centrifugal sprawl of out-patient clinics, at-home services, nursing homes, urgent care centers, radiology, and lab testing companies, therapy centers and private specialist practices, referred to as the “care continuum.” Many of these are their own companies, rent-seeking around the edges of the continuum, but many of these smaller facilities are owned by growing hospital conglomerates that are increasingly absorbing these smaller practices, to the point where more physicians are employed by a provider network than operate their own practices. The composition of physicians has decisively shifted, following the incentive structures of private healthcare which emphasizes expensive post hoc diagnoses and procedures rather than preemptive and lifestyle care: primary care physicians, the frontline of any public health system, make up just 12% of medical doctors, 85% some kind of specialist or subspecialist. This has been accompanied by a decline in people who receive primary care, especially in rural areas and urban centers, and lowered life expectancies. Such consolidation offers more opportunities to transition to contract labor and temporary staffing. The division of labor in clinical settings has shifted as well, with nurses taking on more tasks in direct patient care, leading to higher workloads, higher burnout and turnover, and more fatal malpractice. There is a global nursing labor shortage, especially in developing countries, which has contributed to such workload stress. This tight labor market has been capitalized on by nurses’ unions to agitate for higher pay and better working conditions, but hospital employers have responded in turn by transitioning to contract labor and temporary staffing, such as traveling nurses and temps. Temporary staffing enables providers to cut costs and bust unions. The extensive and increasing casualization of nursing is a desperate attempt to produce fungibility in an extremely tight labor market. Radiating out from centralized hospitals, into the care continuum, we find even lower wages. In short-term clinical services, such as running lab tests, phlebotomists, who draw blood samples, make a median salary of $35,510 per year. Workers at LabCorp, a private testing company with massive contracts, even managed to successfully unionize to combat dismal wages. In Long-Term Services and Support, where 8.3 million people, a majority of annual patients receive services from various assisted living programs, 71% of staff are low-waged direct care workers (DCW) who are mostly women of color. Still, an estimated 85% of long-term care is provided by unpaid family and community. Most DCW are certified nursing assistants, for whom wages have lagged behind inflation, 15% of whom live below the federal poverty line and 13% of whom are themselves uninsured. Without worker organization this is likely to improve as, unlike the labor shortage amongst nurses, direct care workers, taken together, are among the fastest growing employment sector in any industry, due to the rapidly aging population. Certification and even training requirements for DCW are lax and inconsistent, constituting a deprofessionalization and even deskilling of nursing. This effect can be seen in the dilution of Advanced Cardiac Life Support, a protocol for dealing with cardiac arrest, which now is excised from many nurse training programs. Despite early success in a unionization drive by Service Employees International Union, union-busting efforts are aggressive and well organized. The Trump Administration passed a rule that prohibited home care workers from paying union dues with paychecks issued using Medicare funds, causing an 84% drop in union membership.

All of the above personnel decomposition allows big providers to lower their operating costs. However, other factors push in the opposite direction. Administrative overhead, due to an increasing tilt towards management over medicine in hospitals and the expanding science of claims engineering, has come to take up 34% of healthcare costs, amounting to $2500 spent annually per person on administration cost alone. The overreliance on managers to streamline the efficiency of care service has not met as much success, as mass casualization actually lowers productivity. Attempts to make doctors work faster and see more patients, by shortening the time they see patients and relying on nurses for everything else, have worked to some extent, but it gets tripped up under its own complexity. Lean techniques strive to reduce “wasteful” allocations, creating untenable rhythms and pacing. When services become spread across many providers, either subsidiaries of a conglomerate or separate companies networked together in an MCO, care becomes “fragmented” both raising the utilization rate and lowering the efficacy and quality of the care. Fragmentation does not follow differing regional health needs, but rather reflects the constraints of business strategy. The practical deconcentration but financial conglomeration of care services also allows these massive companies to reap the rewards of this increased utilization, but it comes with costs as well. To overcome this barrier to coordination, providers have implemented a much-hyped new paradigm called Electronic Health Records (EHR) systems. But EHR, now a $23.6 billion dollar industry, seems to have actually reduced productivity, diverting time spent with patients to filling out documentation, causing medical practitioners to see fewer patients than before. The interfaces are counterintuitive, making it difficult to actually track down much-needed information for physicians to get a holistic profile of patients. The data entry follows a series of prompts that don’t reflect medical priority, but rather itemization to optimize billing. EHRs, despite their big data allure, often suffer from interoperability issues caused by proprietary boundaries, causing lossy transfers, formatting errors, and excessive human error. Nonetheless, this is a growing industry and one being pushed by hospital administrators to accommodate the paradigm of the “patient-centered medical home,” which is no kind of home but rather a bundle of patient information that changes hands in large clinical teams managed under a single physician; in other words, the institutionalization of personnel changes described above. These EHR systems are costly, based on proprietary software, in a medical tech industry that increasingly resembles the kind of overvaluation bubbles of the rest of the tech industry. Medical equipment is the 4th largest category of capital investment, 40% of which is leased, making it a $200 billion a year industry. The regulatory environment is extremely lax, and so leasing contracts are rent-seeking at their finest, with the proliferation of “per click” arrangements, which charge providers based on use and just-in-time hospital management. To keep equipment costs down, providers have shifted over to “just-in-time” hospital supply chain management, in which inventories are kept low and calibrated to demand with heavy use of data. All the same, costs have steadily risen, even if not to wage growth, but providers have managed to keep unit cost growing at a slower pace than unit price, effectively capturing more shares of the social wage fund. Unit price growth is the single primary driver of increasing expenditure, over rising chronic disease rates, and increased system usage, growing at 150% the rate of unit cost. By dominating provision markets with a high pace of mergers, providers have been able to negotiate higher commercial claims disbursements from insurers.

Insurers do not bear this burden alone, and in fact manage to reap incredible profits. They too consolidate in order to obtain regional monopoly, which allows them to jack up premiums with little limitation. There are various ways for insurance companies to pass these high claims onto patients. Total out-of-pocket spending has risen 54% between 2006 and 2016. Premiums have risen 55% between 2007 and 2017, rising faster than wages.  In addition, for market insurance, the method of payment for medical service itself sneaks in hidden costs. The US predominantly relies on fee-for-service line-item billing (FFS), in which individual services are priced separately. Of all the types of billing structure in healthcare systems around the world, FFS squeezes the most out of patients, shunting the risk of business onto them, as providers can recuperate costs through increasing the variety of unbundled billable services. For MCOs, which use capitation billing (pre-negotiated lump sums), they structure their plans into a series of tiers. A “Bronze” plan, the lowest tier that qualifies as a coverage floor, is advertised as covering 60% of in-network expenses. This percentage reflects the total payout for all beneficiaries with Bronze plans, so an individual recipient may end up paying much more than 40% of costs in a year, in co-payments, deductibles, fees for dependents, tiers for pharmacy coverage. Various other plans – Silver, Gold and Platinum – justify higher premiums with less point-of-service and deductible cost-sharing, but all plans leave out-of-pocket expenses for the patient. Limited physician, pharmacy and hospital networks allow companies to charge penalties for going out-of-network. Co-payment increases of even $1 have been shown to turn the poorest patients away from seeking care, leading to preventable health deteriorations requiring emergency room visits and costlier procedures. Deductibles, effectively forcing patients to pay their own way for most routine health services by front-loading more costs, have grown to half of total cost-sharing payments, exceeding $1200 on average. In addition, fewer payments can be applied to deductibles to draw them down; copays and monthly premiums leave them untouched. Plans are constantly restructured once a patient begins to pay in, allowing incremental reapportionments of cost. These plans rely heavily on “healthcare rationing” with the use of utilization management, in which an external reviewer influences healthcare decisions on behalf of the MCO or private insurer, often over the patient or doctor, potentially leading to the denial of coverage for recommended treatments, depending on cost metrics. While ACA outlawed denial for pre-existing conditions, an endemic problem before, insurers still denied 18% of in-network claims between 2015 and 2017, with huge variation between insurers (<1% to 40%). These claims denials patterns have even opened up opportunities to game the system. A rash of “surprise billings” hit patients, as they went to an in-network facility which then quietly contracted out-of-network specialists who charged full rate; an estimated 40% of procedures come with such surprises. 

Adjusted for inflation, healthcare spending increased by an average of 9.9% every year between 1960 and 2006. This is twice as fast as the GDP growth rate over the same period, driven almost entirely by unit price increases in physician services, hospital costs and pharmaceuticals. Throughout the 1990s, healthcare prices rose at double the rate of inflation, and was already expected to again this before the onset of the pandemic. Per capita spending on healthcare expenditures compared to income can vary widely depending on coverage and health, but can go up to 14% of income for households below the poverty line, and 18.5% if at least one family member has health complications. At the current growth rate, healthcare spending as a share of household income is projected to equal median total income by 2033. Nationally, the costs of healthcare, from hospital stays to insurance premiums to clinical services, are unilaterally rising, with total expenditure equaling 17.7% of GDP, predicted to rise to 20% in 2022, and averaging $10,000 per household, far in excess of other OECD countries. Spending has grown substantially since 1970, outpacing the rate of growth of GDP and much faster than the rate of inflation, over 50% of this driven by high pricing rather than the quantity of provision. Forty-two percent of Americans have some amount of medical debt, contributing to the general condition of indebtedness for the working class described above. Medical debt is especially burdensome, accounting for 66.5% of bankruptcies and often requiring dips into retirement savings or forgoing necessities, and dangerous, with half of cancer patients reporting that they delay medical care to avoid costs, a common sacrifice which regularly leads to unnecessary hospitalizations and even premature deaths. This massive process of restructuring leads to a system of extraction operating in layers. As each and every component of the healthcare system is privatized and attempting to profit off each others’ expenses, costs are pushed ever upwards. These are then compensated with suppressed wages and price gouging, pushing the burden first onto insurers and MCOs, who in turn construct arcane hedging methods to loot the pockets of patients less and less able to pay.

The frailty and inflexibility of the US healthcare system is thus a direct result of the industry’s ongoing subsumption into increasingly profit-driven modes of organization confronting the particularity of healthcare labor processes. The outcome is a rigid and unresponsive infrastructure more capable of rentier extraction than dynamic movement when facing immediate crises. The convergence of these accumulating instabilities produces the novel extremes of this pandemic and the economic maneuvers required by capital to weather its consequences. The de facto public health system, distributed across the market and subject to the distortions of rent extraction, was a poorly tended-to dam, privately operated, waiting to catastrophically burst with any excessive strain. With nearly 2 million positive COVID-19 cases, as of June 4, we can safely say the flood came. Twenty-eight million Americans still entirely lack healthcare coverage. As COVID-19 spread to the US, many low-wage workers, lacking paid sick leave, continued to act as vectors against their will. One in seven workers said they wouldn’t seek care for COVID-19 due to prohibitive costs. It’s a small wonder: one uninsured person said her treatment for COVID-19 cost $34,927. While governments have promised to cover the expenses of testing and treatment, the fragmentary and disorganized healthcare system allows plenty of room for insurers to stick patients with exorbitant costs. In a stark demonstration of the structural pressures toward austerity, the US has repeatedly defunded pandemic preparedness programs for over two decades, leaving hospitals to weather the surge without much coordination or reserves. The paradigm of just-in-time supply chain management and lean operations has left the hospital system extremely vulnerable to being overwhelmed, quickly stretched beyond capacity and forced to “ration care,” restricting treatment for “non-emergency” conditions. Even Bain Capital reversed its earlier advocacy of lean supply management. Shortages of ventilators and personal protective equipment made headlines, and led to bidding wars between states and shady acquisitions, but all manner of care was subject to restriction, from medications to organizational capacity. Healthcare shortages are predicted to last long after the end of the pandemic. Electronic Health Records systems immediately became an obstacle to epidemiological tracking, designed as they were for billing rather than health profiles, with the low interoperability causing opacity in the data, and the pathwork system too convoluted to roll out software updates in time. Hospitals, whose revenues depend on high-price special procedures and treatments, not routine care or emergency services, have tapped out their cash flow, in some cases furloughing health workers, reducing salaries or even filing for bankruptcy. Unemployment for healthcare workers is at 9.5%, in the midst of a severe labor shortage. In a perverse actualization of the euphemistic “patient-centered medical home” concept, some hospitals with no bed vacancies scrambled to make up for it by using patients’ houses. Meanwhile, patients, COVID-19 or otherwise, turned away from needed care lead to a severe spike in the rate of people dying at home. Home care, staffed by underpaid and deskilled direct care workers, have been forced to pick up the slack of the failing hospital system. Nursing homes and other outpatient facilities are COVID-19 super-spreaders. Direct care workers, unable to socially distance from patients they care for and who, again, are primarily women of color, work in facilities that are tied to 20% of all COVID-19-related deaths. Healthcare workers, in general, are extremely vulnerable, accounting for 11% of total infections, with over 9,000 documented infections in the US and 300 deaths. To address the shortages, Congress exempted healthcare workers from the paid leave expansion in the CARES Act. Meanwhile, nurses’ unions have taken various labor actions to fight for better conditions. Healthcare workers have been the ones who have had to square the circle of the public health crisis, practically navigating the equipment shortages, lack of protection and low staffing with work speedups, longer hours and high-stress loads. This kind of strain, in the context of a horrorshow of thousands of deaths a day, watching patients and colleagues die and everyday feeling the obvious abandonment and callous disregard from hospital managers and governments, is traumatizing and would lead anyone to despair. To date, two emergency medical workers overwhelmed by the tragedy, John Mondello and Lorna Breen, have committed suicide.

The inability to respond adequately to the scale of social need is a result of the accumulated necrosis which has plagued the system. In order to overcome barriers to its reproduction, capital has, in the past, resorted to a program of amputation, coordinating within the capitalist class to ensure that it is only living labor that is severed, deferring the re-emergence of a communist horizon but exacerbating the build-up of dead capital. The proletariat, suffering from its own advanced decomposition, has so far been largely ineffective at routing this onslaught. This dynamic of defeat, which has structured the last 50 bleak years, and the current move to sacrifice thousands of lives a day to maintain economic normality, suggests that we can expect more bloodletting in our future. But the exact extent of social decay that is currently being unmasked, and the depth of our current plunge, is unknown. The social arrangements which enable such a state of affairs to perpetuate in spite of the material requirements of reproduction are possibly running into real limits, pushing us further into an exceptional situation. These measures may only ensure a more destructive manifestation of the economic crisis going forward.

This most recent phase in the crisis of capitalist reproduction is still taking shape, and following along the lines of a consistent historical trajectory. Prospects for recovery and the future behind it look bleak and few are willing to predict otherwise. “Growth” in GDP in advanced economies is projected to be -6.1% by the IMF, -5.9% in the US, a roughly 10% decline from before. Emerging market and developing countries, a bourgeois euphemism for the imperial peripheries, are expected to “grow” at a collective rate of -2.2%, excluding China (along with India, one of the few countries expected to have positive growth, 1.2% and 1.9% respectively). Goldman Sachs corroborates these figures. The UN reports an overall 15% contraction in world trade in 2020. But these already dire estimates presume a tapering off of the pandemic; indeed, some of them forecast positive growth by the end of the year and ample rates of ~5.8% in 2021. But the very real possibility of a second pandemic wave is looming, with the UN projecting a possible -0.5% GDP growth rate in 2021 in this case. Given that it will likely take 18 months to bring a vaccine from development to distribution, we still know very little about COVID-19’s true virulence or symptom etiology, and the consensus that recovery means putting people back into the workplace, a second or prolonged initial wave is the likely scenario. Now, the stock market surges against all indications that the fabric of capitalist society is disintegrating, the Nasdaq is recovering total yearly losses. The continuity of accumulation merely exists in the hopes of the market’s futures and the “investor confidence” in recovery. According to Moody’s chief economist, this speculative surge (which doesn’t reflect real profits or growth, but the willingness of possessors of fictitious money-capital to continue to circulate and trade) is attached to expectations of a “V-shaped” recovery, that is, a sharp return to the prior trajectory of growth. Given that the recovery from 2008 was “L-shaped” – recovering the same relative slope of growth, but not to the same levels – an economist at St. Louis Fed proposed that we finally pull the trigger and impose negative interest rates in order to obtain the sought after V curve. 

Regardless, the long-term scarring is likely to plague the world economy for many years to come. The World Bank, looking ten years ahead, posits a number of deep adverse effects from the pandemic, focusing on long-term slowed growth in “emerging markets and developing economies,” particularly in China, which has thus far this century been the veritable heart of world accumulation. They predict damage to productivity growth, as forms of social distancing will become widely adopted as regular health and safety practice in many workplaces, straining the primary tool capital has for improving productivity: the concentration of workers. Output growth will fall even faster than it already has been, especially energy output as the rickety price structure of oil collapses. Most interestingly, they predict that capital capacity will be severely underutilized, reflected in the previously mentioned productivity and output rates. This means that an extremely high percentage of the accumulated productive forces would hum at lesser rates or outright lie fallow, producing more disused rust belts. This is exacerbated by the particular geographic distribution of the productive forces, organized into a global accumulation regime wholly dependent upon a stratified and deconcentrated industrial archipelago oriented for exports and trade. Given the unique nature of pandemics, it is this structure, so essential for propping up the rate of profit, that is especially vulnerable to long-term disruption, as countries are forced to institute export controls to stem the spread of the virus. Since the global industrial apparatus is already at severe overcapacity, due to a high organic composition of capital, these circumstances will only render this crisis tendency all the more intractable. We can expect a dip in total value formation and the capacity for valorization, and thus the rate of accumulation, the proportion of profit that goes back into production. As the World Bank notes, investment will have to continue innovating other pathways for accumulation, primarily in financial instruments or real estate, doubling down on the existing debt bombs. We can expect more financial asset crashes and more currency crises to hit a spiraling dollar reserve value-measure system.

We are certainly not looking at a coming boom. Large scale opportunities for profitable investment are increasingly non-existent. There will be no period of profitable reconstruction of productive capital, infrastructure, and housing, as there was in the ruins of Europe and East Asia after WWII; the virus alone will leave the industrial rustbelts, empty malls and overleveraged unfinished construction projects intact. The technological revolutions that once had massive effects on increasing employment have long failed to deliver on productivity or output increases, lead to persistent declines in capacity utilization, and have bottomed out in employment. Technological developments have only grown to increasingly expel labor-power from the point of production, simultaneously rendering null the very element of the expansion of value. When conditions for productive investment decline, money-capital that cannot be valorized is instead diverted to financial investments fundamentally rooted in the sphere of circulation, affecting the rate of capital accumulation and leading to the formation of unproductive hoards which become increasingly susceptible to speculative activity. Capital hedges on a future that material reproduction does not allow.

Barring the absence of political feasibility for the massive destruction of capitals, any semblance of recovery only becomes possible, as before, through the maintenance of the conditions for credit creation and lending capacity of financial institutions. The accumulation of money-capital swells and the reproduction of private capitals increasingly becomes a matter of redistributions of claims on future surplus value. Cornering market shares through centralization of capital and concentrating holdings becomes the sole measure of success, and the fetish of money-begetting money takes hold as the flows come in, divorced from their connections to material expansion. In this environment of growth hinging on credit availability, the “zombie firm” becomes an apt symbol of the crisis in value. Overleveraged corporate debt burdens weigh heavily on the potential for productive growth in the coming future of industry, and this dead weight requires that the well of liquidity and credit continue flowing, lest it bring it all down again. The expansion of value, now petrified in dead forms, is only reproducible if this gradual means of intensifying the appropriation of surplus labor can be posited towards a future valorization of capital. As the base for this grows increasingly narrow, this surplus labor capacity implied by productivity growth manifests as an absolute surplus population proportional to the growing masses of unrealizable surplus capital. Capital finds itself then in a double bind, reproducing the social relations that form the content of value, but as these relations are increasingly running out of steam and becoming materially untenable. The predatory appearance of the appropriation of surplus increasingly takes on rentier forms as the nets are cast wider and hooks deeper into the externalized costs of labor-power’s reproduction, shaking extra coin out of any nook it can find. The spatial fix of deindustrialization produces a mutable terrain of capitalist production infrastructures, moving more and more into hinterland regions as a buffer from proletarian access and struggle over the very wage-relation that structures their subsistence, even in its absence. This crisis in the wage-relation serves only to further foreclose the mutual reproduction of the class relation, producing instead fragmented subjectivities bent on the destruction of the present order instead of a mere share in its plunders.

It is this very rigidity in the face of exceptional situations that reveal to us the ultimate necessity of superseding capitalist social relations, whose image of wealth necessitates mass privation. It remains to be seen what a new order would consist of, though it is now struggling to emerge out of the present crisis. There is no guaranteed immediacy of revolution from capitalist breakdown all on its own; we must content ourselves with a turbulent and ambivalent intensification of conflict which may shift the balance of class forces and help realize our revolutionary aims. The bourgeois response to contemporary crises are desperate, state-led attempts to preserve the existing equity systems of national capitals in the face of the centralizing pull of the crisis. Capital can reconstitute itself, but the great upheavals required would yield an unrecognizable landscape. It is not totally unreasonable to anticipate the possible reorganization of nation-states into new clusters and axes, the dissolution and swallowing of entire parties and parliamentary apparatuses, and new class compositions emanating from employment arrangements favorable to the capital leftover in the struggle to consolidate. We can detect the embryonic forms of these circumstances coalescing in the world today; they just need to “make their break” and therefore require some sort of occasion. In the past, this has meant war.

Death-Masks

The tradition of all dead generations weighs like a nightmare on the brains of the living.” – Marx, 18th Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte

The specter of war hangs heavy over the present conjuncture. Given the degree of instability at present and the flailing attempts by the institutions of capital to mitigate the crisis, it appears the question of war is merely one of which kind. In the heat of the pandemic a number of struggles have taken hold, and the conflicts of the years preceding are inherited and intensified by the newest threat to a global order of capital that is already under severe strain. In the deepening crisis of capitalist reproduction there lies an intrinsic tension between particular proprietary relations that serve to buttress a given national bourgeoisie, particular bearers of the character-mask, and the reconstitution of capital in a more globally-integrated, de-personified and concentrated iteration. Ensuing struggles might not exactly follow obvious pro-capital and anti-capital interests, but instead find themselves mediated by intra-class rivalries inflicted onto the respective national working classes. Revealed here is the dialectical relationship between functionalist notions of state and capitalist institutions and the compositions that the classes are constituted as at any particular moment. Fractions of each class coalesce into ideological affiliations and interest groups vying for political power, but these are fetishized forms, more specifically the fetishization of form, following a class polarization intrinsic to processes of capital accumulation, increasingly pursuing a fragmentation into innumerable surface antagonisms. The class binary of capitalist production is counteracted by this process of fragmentation and emergent antagonism. This is the actual concrete terrain in which capital moves and within which the proletariat must move to achieve liberation. 

Compacts between different fractional compositions stabilize in a given conjunctural arrangement, but, as seen with events throughout the still-developing pandemic contraction, this base moves so rapidly that the numerous scattered fragments, each with their own force and velocity, are falling into the chasm, producing the appearance of social chaos. The constant heat of agitation begins to overtake the pressure of its containment and threatens an explosive transition. As is seen in the case of the right-nationalist protests demanding economic reopening, it is possible for this unconstricted agitation to still be politically useful for capital. Antithetically, there appears an immanent opening for a war of position with the advent of the “essential worker,” contemporary development which suggests a possible resuscitation of a proletarian movement, drawing from the workplace and tenant struggles that are unleashed by the present instability and struggle over reproduction. In absolute terms, however, the prospects of a prolonged crisis in unemployment and the massive asymmetry in organizational capacity make it such that workers are more replaceable than ever. At the very moment that we must be intransigent, we are exceedingly solvent. The sharpening of these contradictions are fertile ground for the struggles over rents and a wave of wildcat strikes and actions unmediated by unions, but note that these contradictions, while sharp, are not yet our tools and are likely to cut away at us if we do not master them strategically. We already live in amputated social conditions.

Of importance is the ongoing struggle of the condition of surplus population, the growing mass of externalized surplus labor capacity increasingly spatially disembedded from the concentrations of production while also far removed from the spillovers of concentrated social wealth. These struggles take on the most violent and fragmentary extremes of capitalist domination, as superfluity robs the proletarian subject of reliable leverage in negotiations, while simultaneously rendering this subjectivity one that is exposed to the total and impersonal domination of military policing and surveillance in a reproduction increasingly dominated by informal economic relationships structured along the outskirts of the social wage fund’s circulation. This acts as a central location of the ongoing reproduction of racialization processes in contemporary capitalism, the exploitation of racial differentiation for wage stratification and labor arbitrage (“last hired, first fired”) giving way to various forms of overt carceral domination as surplus labor runneth over. The intensification of carceral regimes, the widespread distribution of military surplus to even the smallest municipal police departments and the formalization of predominantly racialized extra-judicial killings speaks to the development of a sprawling apparatus for the management of capital’s crisis of reproduction. As this crisis proceeds, we will see the limits of prison society’s capacities tested.

Identifying these fault lines remains the work of any conscious action against the reconstitution of capital. These fragmentations in the assumed class binaries of capitalist production compose this dialectic of abstract and concrete, the actuality of class and politics and the retrofitting of the state to reflect the transformations that national capital has necessarily undergone with imperialism and globally-integrated production and trade. There is a growing tension between capital as a real abstraction – pure surplus value accumulation indifferent to who makes up the capitalist class and where anything takes place – and capital as the proprietary means for a particular group in a particular place to maintain their ownership relation to production. Intra-capitalist competition remains a factor, as does the question over whether capital as a totality can successfully reorganize production to perpetuate itself, and whether this restructuring will leave the same old bourgeoisie and nation-states in place. Is it a choice between the hegemony of US and Western capital and the entire mode of production? To what extent is a pivot to East Asia as the center of accumulation overdue, and how does this dynamic play into the manifestation of this particular crisis? Are the character-masks which have come to dominate through a cunning of history now forming a phalanx of death-masks for the reigning order, appearing more as obstacles to capitalism’s reconstitution than guarantors, waiting to be swept to the side? This struggle is what makes it a conjunctural crisis, in which all the social institutions which support a regime of accumulation enter into a violent flux. When combined with the accumulating instabilities that accompany the growing surplus populations, this moment contains the possibility of resolving itself through the confrontation of these antagonisms into something qualitatively distinct from the preceding period. We will now look to the finer details of some of these recently escalating fault lines.

The current ecosystem of reaction is a contradictory outcome of the nonexistence of a nation as such, in old terms, and the failure of global integration to stave off crisis. This has produced intense nostalgia for past national might as both an organic expression and a manufactured political fringe. This is seen in the US most prominently in the Reopen protests, a series of efforts that began in mid-April and have developed in various forms, beginning with the primary impetus moving forward with plans to end lockdown measures to contain infection spread, famous for their disregard of “social distancing” measures and health protocol. There currently exist theories, plenty supported by convincing evidence, that these indeed are composed of a coordinated effort from special interest groups and coalitions that built connections during the Tea Party formation of the contemporary right-wing surge. Coordination alone, however, does not explain participation. In coverage of those involved, some divergence of interest and political motive can be discerned. There appear to have been disputes over method and urgency of reopening, some willing to adhere to cautious timelines and others largely organized around memetic incarnations of support for Trump and his interests, the anti-lockdown protest merely another site in the ongoing culture war. What appears consistent, however, is a high-degree of involvement and expression of business-owner, petty-capitalist interests in the displays, as the disruption of normative exploitation here can be a greater hindrance to subsistence than for larger capitals. It is in these circles that outright denials of COVID-19’s existence or severity are found, as conspiratorial thinking is anything but foreign to the contemporary US right-wing.

A political tension clear in these mobilizations is that between the reopening timelines set by states and the demands being placed on ensuing economic activities from the Executive branch, the current regime’s sensitivity to stock market volatility not being lost on anyone. Much of this has already manifested in conflicts over PPE pipelines to states, where Federal agencies have acted to intercept and requisition supplies procured by state governments, forcing many to resort to covert forms of smuggling. States have worked over the past few months to form and operate within regional pacts to strategize reopening on their own terms, regardless of Executive wishes. Past statements of ominous portent from Trump and leading media figures on the right have gestured at the possibility of popular mobilization as a tactic to deploy in order to grease the wheels of a political impasse. A key element of that degree of enforcement capability in Trump’s base of support on display in the Reopen protests is the far-right militia movement, an armed presence with Confederate or Nazi flags being a common fixture at these demonstrations. Another element within these formations to note is the invocation of the Boogaloo meme, a right-wing shibboleth referring to the apocalyptic desire and supposed readiness for a sequel to the American Civil War, presumably along much the same factional lines considering the neo-Confederate elements involved. The most notable escalation out of these has been the events surrounding the protests that moved successfully from the lawn to the center of the Michigan State Capitol. Armed protestors made it into the Capitol building on April 30 in a standoff with police inside, attempting to make their way to the legislative chambers housing the Governor and other state representatives. By May 14, two weeks later, the state government announced it would be closing the Capitol building and appears to be suspending certain sessions, in an attempt to avoid further clashes and armed escalations. During the protest on the day closure was announced, only 75 to 200 people were in attendance at any given time. This shows the striking ability of armed factions of the right-wing in the US to concentrate and deploy force to exploit crises, though contingent upon the sites where this promises to be most effective. 

The synchronization of interests with armed right-wing militants and the Trump administration still appears one of mutual convenience, as the character of this intra-class fraction is one of opposing visions for the future of anti-social organization, but both converge on the maintenance of the reproduction of capitalist social relations at their respective levers of exploitation. While Trump remains inextricably bound by a reproduction of US capital that is reliant on global-integration and maintaining the US’s particular hierarchical position atop the organization of global value chains and trade arrangements, the militia movement is a product of the immiserating hinterland regions of systemic deindustrialization and exurbanizing poverty, led primarily by the petty-capitalist and wealthier landowners emerging above the overall historical trajectory of abjection. There is in these groups a defense of capitalist relations founded through an anti-globalization bent, placed at the forefront of their political commitments. A demonstration of this in the present instance can be seen in the voluntary protection of businesses opening in violation of state orders by armed militia groups, the more militant of them placing themselves “beyond left and right,” in an ultimate goal of autonomous territorialism founded on various forms of ethnic homogeneity or kinship in survivalism. The alliance with Trump in these instances are pragmatic maneuvers from groups that have a well-incorporated theoretical grounding in the exploitation of crisis to advance their particular interests by destabilizing state institutions in certain regions. The reaction in these incarnations of the right is such that these are ultimately movements that realize their ends through exclusionary methods backed by force, the vocal disdain for infection containment in the protests itself a manifestation of this anti-politics, where obfuscation and conspiracy cloud the terrain for the opposition, a phenomenon akin to a smoke grenade in combat.

A crisis of state legitimacy is not merely the terrain of reaction here. The unemployment wave and subsequent hit to the maintenance of relations of exploitation that keep economic activity moving has produced the discursive turn to the desperate and hollow celebration of the heroism of those workers endangering their lives, through the “essential worker” classification. For every instance that the “essential” distinction appears to outline the actual contours of necessary reproductive labor in society, such as nurses, even more are plainly obvious to be merely necessary for the functions of realizing exchange values and preventing total economic collapse. For those attaching hope to the apparent sacrifices made of the so-called “essential worker,” are they not buying the boss’ propaganda? It is entirely questionable which of these labor tasks would even remain in a social reproduction that becomes emancipated from its subsumption by capital. The cyclical employment of surplus populations into an industrialized consumer and service-heavy economy is revealing of the crisis of surplus capital today. The unrealizable surplus of potential capital values and commodity outputs must be either pushed to the extremes of realizing value in the social processes of exchange, or constrained in output and thus consistently exert an overleveraged burden on the costs of enterprise. Our employment in society is increasingly meaningless, increasingly only existing to serve the maintenance of the waning abstraction of value and thus perpetuate the class domination which serves and is reproduced by it. It is then unsurprising to see where these sites of proletarian struggle in the US have broken out in the present conjuncture. The strange desperation of the “essential worker” ploy then deserves some broader contextual grounding in the composition of this particular historical instance of widespread wage precarity.

The mass precarity implied by the chronic underemployment and untenable costs of living detailed above are not a result of rampant greed but instead the terminal arc of necessary restructuring within global capital. The composition of the labor market in the US and many other imperial core countries is directly tied to the increasing superfluity of labor relative to valorization, leading to deep polarizations in the geography of production and consumption. There has been a wholesale reorganization in the global division of labor towards integrated and stratified value chains cutting across borders, with workers in several countries linked into a single process of capital turnover, the lowest-waged workers producing goods to be shipped, warehoused, handled, retailed and delivered by a vast services stratum in the Global North, elongating the circulation time of the commodity before it reaches its terminus in consumption. The form this takes is a product of history. The so-called service economy of the Global North sediments the historic defeat of the working class, shattering the politicized composition of the class in the imperial cores and dispersing the most labor-intensive links in the increasingly transnationalized productive forces to dominated peripheries outfitted with debt-funded infrastructure and liberalized export practices. To be clear, most “services” are actually located in the Global South, in the informal work it takes to survive in slums, but the formal “service economy” that is now theorized in bourgeois economics to mark the most mature stage of development is distinguished by what it indexes underneath: the spatial concentration of consumption, forming a complementary half in world reproduction. The complexities of this historic arc are too numerous to fully explore here, but it suffices to say that new geographic sectoral concentrations emerged, with new producing and consuming countries, after the smoke cleared from neocolonial beach-heads in the 1970s and 80s. 

This has a few relevant consequences for the present moment. The majority of European and American workers perform services. The proximity that these services have to production, in the form of scientific and technological development, or to the circulation of commodities, such as transport, retail, and marketing, may mark them as relatively “productive.” But large swaths are not strictly involved in the circuit of capital valorization. Nonetheless, the populations of the imperial core are responsible for the majority share of consumption, though these are skewed to the very top income strata. But this usurpation of manufacturing by the periphery has only resulted in extreme wage suppression and the distribution of goods out of those countries, contributing little in material improvement to their lives. Indeed, production in the periphery is increasingly tilted towards exports, as the export share of the world GDP has more than doubled between 1975 and 2018, from 13.6% to 30%. The export orientation and consumer product light industry emphasis of development was superintended through the loan and structural adjustment programs of the World Bank, International Monetary Fund and World trade Organization, from the late 1970s and, later, by the China Development Bank, and facilitated by the proliferation of free trade agreements. The fragmentation of the production process, in which the various steps of initial parts manufacturing through assembly and final packing occur at numerous sites across the world, facilitated by a logistics and shipping revolution, with multiple points of exchange in intermediary circulating capital, has enabled surplus value produced all down the line to funnel and concentrate in the final sale price, effectively distributing value upwards into the core, amidst a net transfer of plundered wealth. The material edifice of extraction through value chains underlies the outrageous wage differentials seen between OECD and developing countries. This arrangement has been necessitated by the spiraling development of contradictions in the value-form, a countertendency to the fall in the rate of profit to export damage from the imperial core to the periphery. 

Diminishing prospects for capital to reproduce value directly follows the narrowing conditions for increasing or even maintaining the rate of profit. Technological advancement in processes of capitalist production develop means for the automation of labor tasks, increasing the efficiency in exploitation of each individual labor input in production, ultimately requiring less labor-power and the disembedding of proletarians from the point of production. However, as this increases the productivity of labor in theory, thereby increasing the rate of exploitation and thus the rate of surplus value, an increasing share of value in capitalist production is tied up in the fixed capital values that only reproduce the same magnitude of value through the course of the turnover time that encompasses their wear and tear and eventual obsolescence. While this increases the exploitation of each unit of labor-power, it progressively diminishes the base of a capital value’s expansion, i.e. valorization, in the production process. Rates for productivity growth thus decline. Intensified output capacity of industrial capital and the ongoing reduction in ability to profitably exploit productive labor capacities lead this excess capacity to become increasingly susceptible to crises of effective demand due to chronic overproduction. Consumption must then be proportionately integrated into the reproductive circuit of value, leading to a rise in service sector employment: an industrialization of consumption. Stagnating output following this bind of overcapacity leads to an imperative to lower the costs of production to the absolute floor. There are significant wage differentials between workers in the core and periphery, which are structurally required for capital reproduction, as they form the base of mass consumption which enables these value chains to be realized within the borders of the Global North. But, as the progressive immiseration described in section 3 demonstrates, we are approaching real limits in the capacity of this form of globalization to successfully realize the values latent in the global productive forces, as wages stagnate in the Global North and workers are beset on all sides with predatory capitalists cutting away little pieces of flesh.

With this understanding, it becomes more clear the exact nature of the fear lying behind the rushed calls to resume normal economic functions than the largely performative demonstrations of the Reopen protests: the entire edifice of world accumulation depends on every knick-knack making its way from the periphery through the Amazon warehouse into the hoards of merchandise we call homes in the imperial core. The backdrop in the rise of the “essential worker” reveals a widespread wave of actions taken by workers on their own initiative to combat the clear and present dangers to their health by being forced to continue work in the pandemic. Between March 1 and April 28, there were at least 151 wildcat strike actions, as can be examined in this essential COVID-19 strike wave map from Payday Report. The planned strikes and walkouts in Amazon fulfillment centers have been well-documented, from an instance on April 21 where 300 workers called out of shifts at 50 fulfillment centers, to the May 1 strike plan joined by Whole Foods, Instacart, and Target workers, demonstrating emergent coordination taking shape among workers in retail, distribution, and shipping centers within the industrial sector across capital owners. This is a strength in the present moment, as these are precisely those sectors increasingly prominent in labor market activity in the ongoing trajectory of the US as a highly-financialized service-heavy economy. Within the distribution and transportation industries, multiple instances of truckers taking the tactic of “slow roll” actions to protest dropping wages and low freight rates by either disrupting traffic on interstates to a crawl or encircling capitol buildings, as in Phoenix, AZ and Austin, TX. Public transportation workers and bus drivers have also demonstrated, as in a bus driver’s strike in Birmingham, AL, and a transit workers’ walkout in Greensboro, NC after coworkers tested positive for COVID-19. Not all of these escalations in worker militancy are proceeding unopposed: sanitation workers in New Orleans, all hired through a temp agency, who went on strike to demand hazard pay, sick leave, and proper safety equipment were all fired and replaced with prison labor making $1.30 an hour.

Industrial manufacturing sectors have also seen their fair share of struggle. Between March 19-20, workers in an automobile manufacturing plant in Detroit, MI shut down operations after infections emerged in the workplace. In this mainstay of the Rust Belt, hundreds of FCA Mack Engine Plant workers also walked out on the job over safety concerns, and on March 18 in nearby Sterling Heights, MI workers at a Chrysler plant went on strike over the same concerns. On April 20, workers at the Boeing factory in Renton, WA refused to show up to work, surely a detriment to a cornerstone manufacturing company for US capital that in recent history has seen ongoing problems of stymied growth beyond the 737 Max crisis of last year. In other production spheres of the domestic economy, a fixture of the present configuration of relative social stability has been the food sector, most notably that of meatpacking and slaughterhouse workers. COVID-19 has been found to spread twice as fast as the national average rate in US counties with major meatpacking plants. These counties accounted for 10% of all new cases reported from April 28 to May 5, primarily affecting rural regions where many of these plants are concentrated, away from the initial urban outbreak epicenters, affecting regions notorious for high poverty rates well above the national average and inadequate healthcare infrastructures. In one of the only actual invocations of the Defense Production Act to date, on April 28 Trump signed an Executive Order to keep meatpacking plants open and workers active in the facilities in order to mitigate potential disruptions to food supply chains. 

Prior to this, workers in meatpacking plants across the US engaged in conflicts to deal with the health hazards of their environments. As early on as March 23, non-unionized workers at a Perdue Chicken plant in Kathleen, GA went on strike, with employee Kendaliyn Granville saying of the situation, “We’re not getting nothing — no type of compensation, no nothing, not even no cleanliness, no extra pay — no nothing. We’re up here risking our life for chicken.” In Greeley, CO, on April 1 approximately 1,000 workers, largely migrant laborers, walked off the job at a 4,000 person JBS processing facility. On April 15, Tyson Fresh Meats workers in Waterloo, IA staged a sick-out where hundreds refused to work. In response to the Executive Order, workers have been responding as needed. On May 1, a Tyson plant in Dakota City, NE had to slow production down due to a high degree of absent employees. Workers are quitting en masse at Smithfield Foods Inc.’s meatpacking plant in Sioux Falls, SD, following a wildcat strike by 50 workers at a Smithfield plant in Crete, NE on April 28, the day of Trump’s order. In response to the potential unrest and risk of infection, Nebraska state health officials decided to simply stop reporting case numbers as they arise. Just recently on May 14, a Tyson chicken processing plant in Wilkesboro, NC has been forced to shut down twice in one week due to high rates of absenteeism. 

It is easy to see then how crucial economic reopening, ensuring a “normal” state of exploitation, is for the maintenance of capitalist reproduction at present, already taking a hit that will endanger it in the future in a still-to-come full realization of the general crisis. There is evidence of endemic misreporting and manipulation of data on negative tests, both at the CDC and in many states, to paint a portrait of successful containment and encourage reopening. The appearance of worker actions in these spheres are very much undertaken out of the immediate necessity of maintaining health in the face of endangerment, but could quite easily spill over into a generalized awareness of the capacity of an embedded workforce to bring capital to its knees, should the need arise in the future. This still, however, remains a resurgent front of the worker’s movement completely contingent upon the instability of the present situation, and cannot yet be said to be the only front important to the development of the struggle to come as the crisis develops. Before inessential businesses are allowed to resume operations, “essential workers” constitute a possible strategic bottleneck, a fact recognized and taken into account in the current strike wave, with many workers using the boss’s propaganda against them. But the high degree of unemployment guarantees an opportunity for capital to liquidate troublesome workers, and the possibility that unemployment could stay high for some time with little promise of future relief from federal funds signals an extremely competitive situation for workers to stay “essential,” lest they be expelled once capital regains its footing. These are not the only sites of struggle, however, as things heat up in the now-vast sphere beyond the workplace.

Tenant struggles here can be seen as a site of struggle for both those with “essential” jobs or are still working from home and for the masses now rendered jobless, as many of the nearly 40 million unemployed are still expected to pay rent for shelter. With grim prospects of a job market recovery in the near future, the downward pressure this will exert on wages will manifest as deeper rent burdens for many. The tenant movement is having a clear moment in the inability of municipal, state, and federal governmental authorities to sufficiently mediate the class conflict between the proprietary appropriation of surplus by capital through landlording and the inability of laid-off tenants to pay rent, lest they forego feeding themselves and their families. This faultline really exposes the central contradictions of capitalism: because the danger of spreading infection is so severe, people are unable to work which, under capitalism, means they can no longer afford housing, at precisely the moment when society as a whole needs to be sheltered. While the inability to pay rent poses a challenge to the traditional strategy of a rent strike, where the tenant organization’s leverage is withholding the rent with ability to pay, organizations across the US, largely in urban centers, have mobilized and worked with tenants to strategize coordinated strike actions

The Autonomous Tenant Union Network quickly released a pandemic-specific organizing toolkit, as did some of its largest bastions, the Philly Tenants’ Union, LA Tenants’ Union and SF Bay Area Tenant and Neighborhood Councils, which are both COVID-19-related and generally applicable. These autonomous tenant unions have recently grown very fast. One of us organizes with Bay Area TANC and we can confidently say that our membership has quintupled since March. New autonomous unions have sprung up in a number of cities; individuals we’ve been in contact with have initiated unionization campaigns in new cities, laying the seed for an eventual grouping. New councils of tenants who all share the same landlord have formed within the unions and existing ones have been reinvigorated. Many of these groupings are in the process of organizing fellow tenants, agitating against their landlord, and openly struggling to extract demands from landlords such as protection from eviction, rent reductions, and full rent cancellation. Many state and local governments have passed a patchwork of injunctions, perhaps freezing evictions or allowing tenants to delay their rent for a range of months, all contingent on a hopeful but likely delusional scheduled return to normalcy sometime this next summer. As of writing, no jurisdiction in the country has moved to fully cancel or forgive rent for the period of the state of emergency, the only measure that will keep people securely housed long-term. And many existing measures are rather weak protections, requiring all sorts of means-testing and documentation, relying on court systems being dormant due to COVID-19 rather than explicit legislative language, or building in backdoors and loopholes for landlords to evict or take action to collect on rent by turning it into debt subject to collections agencies. In truth, the protections are quite uneven, which has granted room to maneuver in some areas, such as Alameda County in the Bay Area, but much less so in others; this crapshoot of legal relief has as much effect on the success of organizing as anything else. These measures are all temporary and will likely require extending as the economic and health crisis surely will not be resolved. However, which states and localities actually grant the extension is up in the air, and likely the kinds of measures and extensions adequate to deal with the precarious situation so many find themselves in will depend on the organized pressure that such tenant unions can exert. While this growth is encouraging, this iteration of the tenant movement is still very nascent and finding its legs. 

This new emergence is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, there is little in the way of existing bureaucracies mediating the activity of the “rank and file” as in the labor movement, which have proven time and again to be timid, conciliatory vehicles that are often outright obstacles. Without such an ossified husk of previous struggles standing in the way, the nascent tenant movement can grow on terms set by tenants themselves, including more flexible autonomous structures, resembling more the “earlier” stages of workmen’s associations but with the benefit of hindsight. On the other hand, the crisis of rent defaults is massive and unprecedented and the larval class organization that exists and is currently being built is not capable of rising to the occasion and shaping the course of things. In addition, a variety of advocacy and direct service nonprofits, insisting on petitioning the state, are very involved in these matters, steering the demands and messaging into models that fit their structure and fundraising needs. This low development of class composition is insightfully discussed by Justin Gilmore, a comrade in TANC. 

While we, as tenant organizers, think that a measure of formal organizing, to aid in coordinating solidarity and amassing maximum impact, is the best route to the construction of a viable and toothed tenant movement, there are a number of exciting developments that are more spontaneous and sporadic. In New York, 12,000 signatures appeared on a pledge to withhold rent, loosely organized as an online petition. Strike activity amongst less organized pockets of tenants kicked off across the country and in Canada kicked off in April and May, possibly numbering in the thousands. As discussed above, nearly a third of tenants did not pay rent in April, a significant uptick. The other side of housing struggles, that of ending houselessness and soliciting or expropriating housing for this purpose, has had some significant developments as well. Earlier this year, Moms4Housing, a campaign of black homeless and marginally housed mothers and their children, took over an empty home in West Oakland, in their words “evicting the speculators.” They eventually had to resort to eviction defense shifts staffed by community supporters as the Alameda County Sheriffs menaced them with threat of eviction, which was eventually carried out with the brandishing of assault weapons and armored vehicles early one morning. The moms were later able to come to an agreement to purchase the home with the landlord. Inspired by this brave inhabitation of empty real estate, a group of unhoused people in Los Angeles called Reclaim Our Homes took over 12 houses in a 163-house tract owned and left empty by Caltrans, California’s transport infrastructure agency, a week before the shelter-in-place order. State police then stationed themselves throughout the neighborhood to intimidate the reclaimers. In Chicago, a group of rent strikers and unhoused people took over a building owned by Deutsche Bank and turned it into a shelter for people experiencing houselessness and a community mutual aid hub. Such instances are placed in their historic context of an illustrious proletarian tradition of housing liberation by some other TANC comrades, Julian Francis Park and Hyunjee Nicole Kim. 

These are relatively small and infrequent actions, reflecting the extreme risk that squatting and expropriation requires and the low capacity to sustain long-term support. The eviction defense for Moms4Housing brought out over 300 people, many of whom eventually had to go home, opening the way for the militarized police to come around early the next morning. This enthusiastic volunteer base is encouraging, but for now the state and rich speculators can afford to wait it out. This thorny and dangerous practical problem is the exact impasse generally facing nascent proletarian class compositions as they slowly coalesce into intermeshed movements capable of real actions that secure gains. In order to shift the balance of class forces decisively in our direction, the ability to sustain strike actions and expropriate and defend housing and other resources will have to be built up. These are daunting prospects, but there are latent and unexercised potentials in a tenant movement, centered around autonomous unions and councils composed of tenants, linking up with movements of the unhoused and landless. As hard to imagine as this is now, it is something that will become increasingly necessary as more and more people fall into housing insecurity by high rents and brutal evicters, get displaced into worse housing farther from their jobs and eventually become homeless. In truth, tenants, like all workers, are virtual paupers in waiting, easily expelled and replaced by the shifting needs of capitalists and property owners only to then face an increasingly policed and privatized urban space that pushes them to the absolute margins, joining the ranks of the disposable sleeping rough under freeway overpasses. Rent strikers are essentially squatters in the eyes of landlords, approaching that precarious place of living on another’s land from the other side of the unsheltered by expropriating a house for themselves. There is no clear path or formula, but building a strong and militant base, tied together through shared struggle and solidarity, can perhaps hit a critical transition point and become a flexible movement, with well-tested tactics to seize housing and ably defend it.

The situation has seen a spur in an already growing sector of class struggle in the US, and the hits are indeed impacting landlords, perhaps forecasting a similar concentration of property in the rental market as we saw in the aftermath of the 2008 crisis. Given the centrality of rentier capitalists to the US economy, the cancellation of rent as a demand and potentially realizable action poses a threat to an entire sphere of capitalist reproduction. The construction of housing in real estate development and growth of a population of renters is an increasingly vital sphere of industry for the reproduction of capital domestically, as loans and credit continually flow into these sectors driving bubble expansions of speculations and asset valuations, propped up by the appropriation of surplus value in these assets through interest on loans, the whole edifice only concretely backed up by the continual appropriation of wages through rent and loan payments. The possibility of a prolonged period of defaults would roil the entirety of the real estate market, a contagion that could rapidly work its way through into a generalized financial crisis in a similar way that brought the global economy to the brink in 2008. This is why state actions themselves cannot muster the political will for any response other than rent repayment plans and the accumulation of rental debt to tenants already unable to pay, for any rent cancellation cements the collapse that is already forming.

To return once again to the question of war, the disintegrating symbiosis between the US and China is a key international development signalling the erosion of the consensus arrived at in the late 20th century achievements of capitalist globalization. The previous year’s trade war remains in negotiation, and following the efforts of the US to pin the blame of the pandemic on China, the value of newly announced Chinese direct investment projects into the US fell to just $200 million in the first quarter of this year, down from an average of $2 billion per quarter in 2019. As we observe the bipartisan chicken race over which party can be the most hawkish on China throughout the rest of this election year, it appears safe to say we have long passed the signal point of arrival for the modern Cold War with an ascendant capitalist counterpower. Countering US smears that China has failed to deliver on “promised reforms,” President Xi Jinping has recently said that China will no longer seek attempts at a planned economy, a predictable outcome and the overdetermined culmination of decades of liberalization and global-integration that has been China’s trajectory since at least 1978. China, itself experiencing industrial restructuring along the same lines as the systemic deindustrialization in the US, is making attempts to transition to a more service-led economy along the lines of the more developed capitalist core economies. Much of the tension of this attempted transition can be seen in the ongoing internal problems of expansion and overcapacity occurring in the Chinese workforce, as wage gains after the post-2008 stimulus efforts gained by a strike wave from restive labor flatlined following the 2015 collapse of the Shanghai stock market, making export surplus increasingly vital to the national capital, and an aggressive position on trade conflicts with the US a matter of necessity. Technological dominance plays a crucial role here as well, as last year, for the first time, China surpassed the US in international patent applications, threatening the axis of US dominance in the tech sector through appropriation of surplus profits by way of intellectual property rents. 

The rhetoric of politicians in the US often frames the pandemic as a war with the “invisible enemy,” and bipartisan hostilities towards China are greatly intensifying. As many analysts, commentators, talking heads, and even the IMF are already declaring this to be the worst economic downturn since the Great Depression, it escapes no one’s memory, despite the poverty of bourgeois society’s historical consciousness, the rejuvenating effects of war by which the US was able to emerge triumphant after that crisis. As we illustrated above, however, this immobile expansion of value, globally-integrating interests of the capitalist class, and internationalization of production, as well as the paradigm of nuclear-capable militaries, make the possibility of a hot war conflict between inter-imperialist powers not quite tenable, much less politically feasible, at least in the immediate term. With globalized expansion of productive capacity and the internationalization of trade flows, a major hub of production that has stayed prominent within the US and central to its internal expansion is the defense industrial base. Often a focus for demonstrating the disparity in public investment into social programs, the defense industry remains a leading field for the US economy. It is interesting to note, however, how the military-industrial sector itself has undergone a degree of equalization in production conditions and predominance of financial operations on par with the general trend of industry in global economies. The sensitivity of defense companies to capital markets and investors presents us with a militarization operating in a distinctly international context, far from the clashes of nations we fear in the present with increasing hostilities between the US and China. 

The global landscape of war exists in the shadow of nation-states now ambiguously attached to national capitals, an internal tension arising from the contradictions within capital’s tendency to expand beyond any containers. The national bourgeoisie are defined best in terms of proximity and intermeshment with a given central bank and banking system required for firms to retain stability, yet increasingly manage investment portfolios much more global in practice. The practical maintenance of the national capital is now impossible without tending to the interpenetrating global networks of trade, supply chains, and flows of financial capital. Currency valuations hinge on bond markets and treasury securities, the asymmetrical organization of production and circulation activities that have resulted from the contradictory relations of value-determination give us a world of property alien to itself and yet interdependent. Inter-imperial conflicts between great powers appear to be complicated by the contestations between capitals untethered to any one state. Even the apparent autonomy of the US Federal Reserve’s actions in the lead up to and wake of this crisis find themselves beholden to maintaining the fragile entanglements of a capitalist reproduction process in stasis.

For all this, however, a so-called “deglobalization” is indeed making itself an established presence through the disintegration of the order established by decades of international moves towards expansive liberalization. While the “trade war” between the US and China may have had the most immediate impacts and grabbed the most headlines, the November 2019 OECD Economic Outlook Report maps out a global economy experiencing trade disputes as a growing international trend, ushering in declining investment flows from a 4.33% annual growth rate in Q4 of 2017 to just 1.52% in Q2 of 2019. The shutdowns in travel and further contractions in investment brought about by the disruption of the pandemic prompted Henry Kissinger to pen, in an op-ed published in the Wall Street Journal, that “the pandemic has prompted an anachronism, a revival of the walled city in an age when prosperity depends on global trade and movement of people.” While the old guards of empire may now be recognizing such developments in print, the breakdown of the international consensus has been an established trend dominating the preceding years’ geopolitical movements, as can easily be seen in the intensification of border regimes to engineer suitably structured national labor markets amidst mass immigration. The manifestation of these trends into victorious democratic seizures of executive power over legislative stasis in core economies is certainly not merely the fault of the pandemic. 

The signal year 2016, with the victories of Trump and the Brexit referendum, cemented a set of reactions not previously visible from the surface veneer of liberalism’s global hegemony. The center has consistently failed to hold as it is overcome by the depth of the crisis faced by capitalist reproduction today, and panics in the face of another catastrophe that threatens to make this crisis of legitimacy irreversible. Even in stimulus efforts aiming to hold an economy headed towards depression together, fractures are emerging in the institutions of bourgeois rule. Notably, the crisis in the deteriorating Eurozone refuses to abate, as Germany’s constitutional court may bar Bundesbank, the German central bank, from participating in the ECB’s multi-trillion bond-buying program, prompting the ECB to either take legal action themselves to bring Bundesbank back into the program or bear the burden of making up their quota without the largest shareholder in the ECB. This comes as recovery strategies are divergent across core economies, as Kristalina Georgieva, managing director of the IMF, has advocated for systemically important banks to suspend dividends and stock buybacks to shareholders to maintain buffers of retained capital in order to weather the crisis ahead, in direct conflict with the interests of the speculators, investors and corporations that subsist off these dividends, between capital as such and the cohort of particular capitals composing it, a sure sign that rifts in the global bourgeoisie will intensify in the conflicting interests that such measures would provoke.

While we observe these tensions forming amongst the bearers of capital, it remains more likely that it is, in fact, the class war that is in the most danger of becoming a hot conflict in the near future, and that the coalescing Party of Order is indeed aware of this and the measures that will be necessary to protect capital throughout this crisis. Defense industry production has shifted largely into the production of surveillance technologies developed from knowledge gleaned in the urban conflicts of insurgent warfare characteristic of the Forever Wars in the Middle East. Already in the pandemic, a surveillance apparatus has been rolled out for trial in Baltimore using aerial capabilities, the location surely not a coincidence, and in India a state-backed surveillance program, designated now for contact tracing, is underway. The potential mission creep of contract tracing is obvious, as it entails tracking one’s movements and social affiliations, and has already been actualized: police in Minneapolis are using contact tracing technology to map out the social networks of protestors there. The increase in military capacities at home is part of a broader feedback loop tendency of capital accumulation in this industrial sector. Military spending produces new use-values, but not posited directly to the future production of value. This depends on the specific application of these means of destruction. In the case of military force to secure domination of a raw material input for production processes, we can see a more direct path to value reproduction, though still not reproductively integrated itself. Military spending does, however, tend to increase the rise in the organic composition of capital, and thus the growth of the industrial reserve army, reproducing its own use-value by producing that necrotic and unruly surplus which it comes to police and incarcerate. It is no coincidence then that outside of imperial implementations to secure raw material inputs for production, military spending and the defense industries find productive expansion in surveillance technologies developed in insurgent zones abroad finding new homes in application to domestic populations who are increasingly rendered surplus. This build-up of military weaponry and surveillance tech, the circulation of counterinsurgency tactics, and the global institutional interpenetration of police and militaries constitutes a particularly menacing excess of enforcement capacity, mostly on reserve but able to muster concentrated force with increasing agility and itchier trigger fingers. The arsenal of the dictatorship of the bourgeoisie has historically and continually cut its teeth on people of color domestically, particularly black people in the US, and various colonized peoples in the periphery. This process then structures the ongoing processes of racialization that inflict gratuitous violence against people of color and functions to recompose the proletariat into a stratified mass of effectively segregated populations.

The prison is increasingly a site of the present order’s crisis of legitimacy as well, and a key area in the racialized geography of the pandemic’s impact. Prisons in the US are already epicenters of infection, one example being seen in Lompoc Federal Prison in California, where 70% of inmates have tested positive. Women’s prisons in Florida have become epicenters for high infection rates across the board. At the Yakima County Jail in Washington, 14 inmates escaped in late March following the state’s declaration of an emergency stay-at-home order. Throughout April, inmates in Cook County jails participated in a series of actions, from hunger strikes to uprisings and attacks on guards to a class action lawsuit, to demand COVID-19 testing, soap and face masks, end of the use of bullpens to group inmates in close quarters and even early release back into the community. On April 30, ICE detainees in Adelanto, CA went on hunger and work strikes to protest lack of disinfectants and general health measures. This was certainly to be expected, as in Italy at the outset of the emergency declarations widespread jailbreaks occurred, with such instances as a revolt at Foggia Prison, an escape following the assault and kidnapping of guards in Pavia, and an uprising at Dozza Prison, just to name a few. While these by no means can capture the full scope of the unrest happening behind the walls of capital’s modern system for the brutal domination of those rendered surplus, the cracks in the penitentiary walls are growing, and with these capital’s claims to legitimacy as it struggles to contain and mitigate its inherent antagonisms.

The brutality of the struggle we face moving forward is already making itself apparent to us beyond the mass death of the pandemic and the containment measures the state has since abandoned. As economic functions resume in the reopenings, the “pent-up demand” sought after by hopeful economists is revealing itself to be pent-up bloodlust, the collisions of fragmentary and alienated social relations in crisis taking precedence over any economic theory of “rational actors.” Three teenage workers at a McDonald’s in Oklahoma City, OK suffered gunshot wounds as a woman opened fire on them for telling her that the dining area was closed. A security guard at a Family Dollar store in Flint, MI was murdered by a woman after asking her to put a mask on before entering the store. A black man in Brunswick, GA was murdered by two white men in broad daylight on unfounded suspicions of theft, sparking local protests and demands for prosecution. Racialized extra-judicial police executions have remained consistent despite the crisis, as seen most notably in Indianapolis, IN, San Leandro, CA, and Minneapolis, MN. The bare violence defining American life, well in the public eye for the better part of the past decade, has not ceased or slowed in deference to the pandemic.

The previous cycle of riots that erupted in Ferguson, MO and Baltimore, MD now have reasserted themselves with a vengeance. In Minneapolis, following the execution of George Floyd, a protest of thousands followed, and those present justly sought to exact a proportionate response in kind. The ensuing destruction of police cars, the fog of tear gas, the ripping of rocks and rubber bullets amidst barricades of steel and shopping carts all made national headlines in the hours of their unfolding. Over the week of May 25, the rapid shift from riot to insurrection took hold, as a siege of the MPD 3rd Precinct resulted in cops fleeing, having exhausted their ammunition, with the looting and incineration of the station following on May 28. That night, the entire country learned that we can burn down the strongholds of the police if we are bold and numerous. The following weekend, protests erupted across the country, at the time of this writing they are to the count of 380 cities across the US in all 50 states, and many countries across the globe in solidarity; protests often led by black youth. This moment has already broken numerous precedents, and there are many developments worth discussing, but things are still very much in flux. It is clear that no party is in a position to authoritatively predict anything, as both the police apparatus and the rioting milieu are currently testing their own limits and capacities, so we will just make a few comments. Actions have quickly escalated into direct confrontations with police, the lines of America’s streets now lined with the burning husks of police cars and canisters of CS gas. Journalists are now consistent targets of the police and military, all precedents for domestic conflict are being breached as the forces of order seek to control the narrative and enforce compliance. Following the explosion of 50 protests across the country on May 29 alone, 17,000 National Guard troops have been authorized and deployed in 23 states, police forces in metropolitan regions have consolidated to the core sites of struggle, and the police have escalated their brutality as the threat to the power of heavily ideological policing institutions bubbles to the fore. Following the murder of Breonna Taylor from a no-knock raid by police in Louisville, KY, which set the current uprising there in motion, police there have already executed another unarmed black person, David McAtee, amidst the uprising. At the time of writing, it appears that there have been 7 verified murders of protestors at the hands of police so far, a number that may not give the full picture, given the chaos of information. In addition, 11,000 people have been arrested across the country in the span of a week; in comparison, 4,500 protestors were arrested in 5 months during the Hong Kong uprising. 

“Outside agitator” narratives are on the rise, the nation’s liberal bourgeoisie lining up in lock-step with the Trump administration’s narrative in an effort to divide what is demonstrably a multiracial and working-class revolt that defies the decrepit political infrastructure of an empire that has proven irreformable. Racialization processes structure the extremes of this crisis and will aim to be reinforced, as the calls to return to civility increasingly aim to diffuse any militant actions acting in solidarity across racial coalitions. Suspicion abounds, paranoia is on the rise, but the danger is certainly real. The narrative of the pearl clutchers hinges very much on the tired exasperated trope of the disenfranchised that “destroy their own communities,” however, many of the uprisings at present are targeted at the symbols of luxurious wealth of the urban core and the police occupational outposts of their communities, a geographical contour that itself must be seen as a possibly conscious attack on the racialized displacements of gentrification that surge throughout the country following 2008. The new cycle of uprisings is clearly gaining ground, following lessons from the past while quickly developing in the moment to respond to the objectively new territory that is being charted. Fire emerges as a common weapon, “broken windows” deliver on the nightmare urbanism promised by the architects of mass incarceration, and non-violence is quickly discarded in favor of fluid but combative tactics. This already makes it apparent that these intense conflicts will be a persistent trend, as continually escalating expressions of political force in the pandemic crisis, and indeed the only option in many instances still, as proletarians treated by capital as externalized costs seek leverage in a situation they never chose. 

To the extent there is an explicit demand, it is for cities to defund their police departments, which is already being conceded in Los Angeles, though only with relatively slight cuts. In truth, these protests are composite formations, with multiple characters. Some very much treat the gatherings as liberal protests, with particular choreographies, symbolism and messaging, and goals which are campaigned for through soliciting allies in reformist politicians, reflecting the involvement of existing nonprofit and activist groupings. But, often at the same location and standing in some tension with the former, there exists a multiracial throng of highly agitated and mostly very young militants spilling throughout the cities. This gives fuel to those decrying the “professional incendiarism” of the white anarchist outside agitators, but any careful observer of the composition of these crowds can safely reject such framing in the majority of cases, as they are neither primarily white nor previously steeped in a political subculture in any obvious way. These “riotous elements” can be described in some instances as “circulation struggles” in which rioting is a means of “decommodifying” goods produced elsewhere to meet immediate needs. Looters might take such things as diapers or shoes. But much of the activity is not strictly goal-oriented, instead tending to look more like defiant jubilation when a risky move yields a trophy or intense and passionate street battles with a clear and dangerous enemy. The real content emerging from these struggles, as we see it, is in the fight for control over urban space, which becomes a motivation in itself. For black, indigenous, and other people of color, free movement is constrained and confined by the racist police state which continually and ritually abjects them. The police rule the streets, an inverted expression of the growing surplus populations. As long as the formations remain agile, bold and willing to flood into the cracks in the armor, by continuing to overwhelm the police lines, they are practically demonstrating the limits of the state’s ability to deploy concentrated force at will, in many cases rendering them impotent, establishing evidence on the ground of this impotence and rushing to fill the void with a new sense of collective power. 

We cannot help but note, with no claims about simple causality, that these large-scale uprisings occurred the week when real unemployment reached 23.9%. Black workers are at 16.7% unemployment as of April (most recent statistic), 2.5 % more than white workers. Less than half of black adults currently have a job. In the aforementioned St. Louis Fed study about household wealth, black households are nearly twice as likely as white ones to be unable to afford a $400 emergency. All the same, black workers make up a disproportionate 17% of essential workers (compared to 12% of total employees), particularly in jobs requiring close proximity like bus drivers or postal workers and jobs with particularly high infection risk. Black Americans are consistently disproportionately likely to contract COVID-19 in many states, with predominantly black counties experiencing a death rate six times that of predominantly white counties. In New York City, over half of people who died of COVID-19 are black; in Chicago it is 70%. This bleak portrait expresses the structure of racialized abjection in the US: black people are often the last hired and first fired in an already precarious labor force with the lowest median wages, having to accept the relief pittance the Federal government offers for the unemployed. At the same time, they make up many of the services, jobs with little sick pay that constitute the frontline of labor that the government has shown itself willing to sacrifice. It is no wonder then that the time came for further militant assertions that black lives matter.

The police seem shaken and understand the conflict in much the same terms: as a contest for space, the conquest of terrain. There is a lot of video evidence on the internet right now of extreme brutality, as well as police explicitly planning to take exceptional action to avenge the affront to their authority. Having lost some ground as these formations successfully routed their efforts at containment, many departments have had to fall back, turning to other agencies and jurisdictions. National Guard deployments are on the rise in urban areas, mutual aid agreements between nearby departments, county sheriffs and state police are in effect to help close ranks in metro centers, the FBI has been spotted wearing fatigues and sporting assault rifles, and prison riot suppression “specialists” from the Federal Bureau of Prisons have appeared in a number of places. There is even speculation of the use of private military contractors. The Border Patrol has been deployed to Washington DC, which lies within its expansive 100 mile border zone jurisdiction, a worrying development as the CBP retains the right to warrantless searches and seizures in violation of the 4th Amendment. Many talk of rumored future military deployments if this all reaches a zenith, debating back and forth about its legality under the Posse Comitatus Act, with the “liberal” New York Times publishing an op-ed by Sen. Tom Cotton calling for “restoring national order” by sending in the military. Numerous fascistic vigilantes have come out attempting to harm protestors, mostly getting repelled by selfless and decisive takedowns. Nonetheless, courageous protestors are refusing to give in. The policing apparatus remains overwhelmed and unable to quell the energy, as of writing. The riots are sure to continue to be a presence as the crisis deepens. An empire in decline will see such fracturing bursts of violence and carnage, the social body ripping itself apart as crisis exacerbates the already growing tendency of capital to find means of functioning despite its failing reproduction. An asymmetrical war of maneuver is fully in motion. The police must be treated as occupiers and engaged as such. We are in for a long and hot summer, and a year that still has yet to fully unfold.

The war we face ahead will be one unlike those experienced by movements that came before and sought to transform society, to revolutionize the social relations upon which reproduction is founded. We may still sing the songs and wave the flags of dead generations, but their ability to communicate to us beyond the grave is limited, and these transmissions may only serve us in the practice of engaging the class struggle as we now experience it, as it is already emerging in advance of and from this crisis. The current struggles themselves might not yet have cohered into specific, focused forms, but the mistake must not be made to merely transpose revolutions of the past onto the struggles of the present. To prefigure fixed forms of appearance of these social relations risks giving into a mere critique of the mode of distribution that perpetuates the antagonism of these social relations, themselves constituted by an alienation specific to the organization of production and exploitation in society, one that exists for its own sake and always aims to expand beyond its own limits according to the dictums of valorization. The arrival upon these barriers grinds the engine to a halt while the gas is still floored, so to speak. From this stasis, the quasi-independent existences of these social relations are then thrust into motion, encountering each other in this environment of alienation, our social constitution encountering us in the determinate conditions that created this form of alienated socialization, appearing as an objective constraint. This encounter of a developing subjectivity as a political agent within the objectivity of its situation becomes a decisive factor in such moments when continuity is called into question. We must reject the reified social roles that are congealing into universal death-masks.

The consciousness won in struggle, however, must be such that the causal relation of determined circumstance is revealed as the continual incorporation of the preceding phases of practice in struggle. The exercise of practice in this struggle produces the experience by which successive grounds can be gained as struggle advances. Experience will neither appear to us readymade, nor be gained all at once, but instead by degrees, as we engage in perpetual conflict with the unexpected. War is the haven of uncertainty, and it is these very moments of crisis where the contingencies exposed by the failures to guarantee reproduction clear space for a political contestation of classes and a potential shift in the balance of forces moving forward. It is the waste and refuse of capital today, an accumulated surplus of dead labor that can now only be set in motion into a speculated upon future in increasingly fictitious forms, constantly subject to violent disruptions, where these proprietary claims on value evaporate as illusions of a material reproduction are further shattered. The material production of value feeding these great chains of money-capital and proprietary capitalists always must remain just enough to grease the gears, though it becomes increasingly improbable, subject to fits and starts, devolving into a massive crumbling as soon as this shutdown initiated an impediment to this motion. We should not overestimate the termination of capitalism just yet, but there is a necessity to be able to demonstrate how the perpetuation of “extra-economic” coercion on the part of the bourgeoisie will have to be amplified, and how best to strategically respond. Hence the surge in insurrectionary uprisings against police, the rapid enhancement of their force in retaliation, the rise of a proto-fascist movement, the surveillance of striking workers; in short, the escalation of the smoldering class war.

“Anti-Marxism”: Professor Mises as Theorist of Fascism by Fedor Kapelush

Introduction by N.R. 

Ludwig von Mises opens his 1925 article “Anti-Marxism” by stating that “In postwar Germany and Austria, a movement has been steadily gaining significance in politics and the social sciences that can best be described as Anti-Marxism.” The editor added: “In Germany, they later came to call themselves National Socialists, or Nazis.” Mises then sets out to discuss “scientific Anti-Marxism,” his term for the first fascist theorists. “The principal tie that unites them is their declaration of hostility toward Marxism,” he adds. 

The title of the 1925 reply to this article by the Austrian Communist Fedor Kapelusz published in the Central Committee of the CPSU’s journal Bolshevik, “Professor Mises as a Theorist of Fascism,”1 can be read as an objective description, though there is also a double entendre. As Kapelusz writes: “Here we have right in front of us the so-called first theoretical attempt to provide a foundation for German fascism.” 

One could justifiably change the title to “Mises as a Theorist of Anti-Marxism,” which would preempt the complaint of cheap usage of the label “fascist” and allow us some demarcation from the blunter approach of other critics of Mises. These critics, themselves often anti-Marxists (whether post-Keynesian or Proudhonian anarchist), correctly point to his positive utterances about “Fascism and similar movements” and his role as advisor to the Austrian Chancellor Dollfuss. The overlap between libertarianism and fascism is well-known. Let us just cite from the abstract of a chapter in Robert Leeson’s 2017 book Hayek: A Collaborative Biography: Part X: Eugenics, Cultural Evolution, and The Fatal Conceit: “Mises was a card-carrying Austro-Fascist and member of the official Fascist social club; and the tax-exempt Rothbard celebrated the first bombing of the World Trade Center. This chapter examines the influence of eugenics on Hayek, Mises, and Rothbard plus the similarities between ‘von Hayek V’ and the founder of the British Union of Fascists, Sir Oswald Mosley, sixth Baronet.” Even the mainstream The Daily Beast in 2017 noticed the coincidence, though it spoke about libertarianism merely as a “gateway” to white supremacism.

Kapelusz’s article takes into account the fact that Mises himself criticizes the various fascist theorists. One can note that today the most verbally extreme “anti-fascists” are the libertarians (from the Tea Party to Trump), who for example carried posters equating Obama to Hitler. Kapelusz takes into account that Mises strategically favored a German foreign policy geared towards non-violence, much like a German fascist today can criticize Hitler for having lost the war. Such demagogic phrase-mongering about pacifism is a prominent feature of the libertarians today (which even some self-declared Leftists appear to have fallen for). 

The article’s central point, it seems to me, is that Mises criticizes fascism from the right. Mises believes that fascism isn’t Anti-Marxist enough, that it is socialist. The latter outrageous claim is only a twist on the quite common refrain found among the libertarian movement that the Nazis were socialists (or even among liberals, who often claim that fascism and communism are two sides of the same coin). What Mises in effect is saying is that the only real objectionable thing about the Nazis is that they are socialists. So when libertarians complain about the government’s fascism and encroachment on freedoms (and they thus can appear as progressive defenders of liberal rights), they really are complaining about (alleged) socialism. 

The anti-Marxism of Mises ran deep. In his memoirs, he wrote: “Upon entering the university, I too was an étatist2, through and through. I differed from my fellow students, however, in that I was consciously anti-Marxist. At the time I knew little of Marx’s writings but was acquainted with the most important works of Kautsky. I was an avid reader of the Neue Zeit, and had followed the revisionist debate with great attention. The platitudes of Marxist literature repelled me. I found Kautsky almost ridiculous.” What Kapelusz writes about Mises fits many an e-celeb rightwinger today: “Viennese professor Ludwig Mises is a very angry guy and he very strongly dislikes Marx and Marxism. Just speaking between us, he shouldn’t dislike it one bit. If not for Marxism, our professor would have to beg for handouts, since he has never managed to prove himself in science. Crushing Marxism, however, is a very profitable business.”

Notably absent is a mention of anti-semitism in the articles of Mises and Kapelusz about fascism. Of course, in 1925 there was not yet mass extermination of Jews (apart from the pogroms in Ukraine during the Russian civil war), but it also seems correct (I almost said – politically correct) to avoid a definition of fascism based exclusively, or at least centrally, on antisemitism, as is popularly held. Let us just cite the remark by the Italian Trotskyist Pietro Tresso in 1938:

“Fourteen senators appointed by Mussolini were Jewish. Under Fascism there were 203 Jewish professors … at Italian universities … All of them swore allegiance to the regime … Federico Camme – a Jew – laid the legal foundations for the reconciliation with the Vatican. Guido Jung – a Jew – was a member of Mussolini’s government as Minister of Finance … The only two biographers to whom the Duce granted his cooperation were the Italian Jew Margherita Sarfatti and the German Jew Emil Ludwig. An Italian Fascist has recently issued a book on Italy’s economic development after the country’s unification – the Storia di una nazione proletaria by the Jew H. Fraenkel … The General Confederation of Industry, which at the time of the “March on Rome” had the Jew Olivetti as its President, gave Mussolini some 20 millions [of liras]. All this filled the bourgeois Jews of the whole world with joy, and they all gave Italian Fascism their praises – and their money.”3

Relevant perhaps are some words about the author. Fedor Kapelusz (Odessa 1876 – Moscow 1945) was exiled from Russia in 1895 and lived in Vienna. In 1910 he wrote an article on the history of Austrian workers, participated in the Austrian 1918 revolution, and when in Soviet Russia wrote a book on Austria (1929). He was quite familiar with Austrian Social-Democracy and bourgeois culture. He knew Hilferding from his student days, and in fact even anticipated some of Hilferding’s topics already in an 1897 article-series on “Industry and Finance,” which incidentally was picked out by Bernstein for criticism. 

As for Kapelusz’s role in the Austrian revolution, I have not found more details. It is clear that he stood on the opposite side of the barricades from Mises, who has quite an inflated view about his own role in convincing Otto Bauer to save Viennese culture from “[p]lundering hordes” and terror. For more writings by Kapelusz, see his reviews of Ostrogorski’s classical work of political science and his overview of Marxist literature on imperialism. 

Photo of Ludwig Von Mises

“Anti-Marxism”: Professor Mises as a Theorist of Fascism 

Viennese professor Ludwig Mises is a very angry guy and he very strongly dislikes Marx and Marxism. Just speaking between us, he shouldn’t dislike it one bit. If not for Marxism, our professor would have to beg for handouts, since he has never managed to prove himself in science. Crushing Marxism, however, is a very profitable business. 

“The science of the so-called Marxists,” states Mises, “can be no more than ‘scholasticism.’” Mises talks about “men and women who are in this business” with total disregard. They beat the air, live by canonized Marxian dogmas, with their writings mattering only because it helps their political careers; their “science” only pursues party goals; and the whole argument about revisionism and dictatorship is not scholarly, but is purely political. That’s how angrily Mises talks about Marxists. But further on Mises puts himself in a very unpleasant position. It happens to be that the leading figures of German bourgeois [social] science, the representatives of the Historical School in political economy and the so-called Socialists of the Chair, borrowed a lot from Marx. Mises doesn’t dare to criticize them. 

With great sadness he quotes Professor Schmoller that Adam Smith’s school became “a doctrine of narrow class interests” and that “socialism can be denied neither its justification for existence nor that it has had some good effects.” With the same degree of sorrow Mises quotes Friedrich Engels, that Professor Wilhelm Lexis’s theory of interest merely presents the Marxist theory in different words.

But then Mises’s great anger falls on Schmoller’s students, the entire generation of the German bourgeois [social] science. He doesn’t mention names. “This generation had never been exposed to university lectures on theoretical economics. They knew the Classical economists by name only and were convinced that they had been vanquished by Schmoller. Very few had ever read or even seen the works of David Ricardo or John Stuart Mill. But they had to read Marx and Engels. Which became all the more necessary, as they had to cope with the growing social democracy. They were writing books in order to refute Marx. . . . They rejected the harshest political demands of Marx and Engels, but adopted the theories in milder form. . . . For this generation . . . Marx was the economic theorist par excellence.”

The angry professor continues to snort for a long while. But finally he finds satisfaction in the fact that the current generation, “some pupils of these pupils” [the students of Schmoller’s students], rejected Marx. Of course we are talking about bourgeois science. A new trend now appeared, anti-Marxism, which Mises talks about with such admiration. The Austrian school, Böhm-Bawerk and others, demonstrated “how petty and insignificant the role of Marx is in the history of political economy.” On his own behalf Mises also states that “those few possibly defensible thoughts” in Marx’s study of society have been analyzed much more deeply by Taine and Buckle; and his theory of the withering away of the state is “utterly insignificant for science.”(!)  A poodle is barking at the elephant. Mises has not yet named the representatives of this school of “anti-Marxism.” But one should read between the lines: The professor is too modest to name himself. 

What is the contribution of this school to science? What is Mises offering us? He is advocating “utilitarian sociology” and states that “the success that Marx’s study of society had in Germany is explained by the fact that utilitarian sociology of the eighteenth century was rejected by German [social] science.” That isn’t bad, is it? On the other hand, Mises – let’s do him justice – puts his own meaning (or meaninglessness) in this Stone Age “utilitarian sociology.” This meaning is – the harmony of interests. Society is founded on the division of labor, and because of this does not contain any conflicts of interest. This is a commonplace, and it is also an incorrect one. Mises, to push himself up, puts it into a Gelerterian4 abracadabra:  “The utilitarian social doctrine does not engage in metaphysics, but takes as its point of departure the established fact that all living beings affirm their will to live and grow.”  Isn’t that metaphysics? Here is a reference to Adam Smith, “even the weakness of men was not ‘without its utility,’” and all of it for the sake of the revelation that private property is in the interests of all the members of the society. Along the way, there is such childish ignorance as the statement that “wars, foreign and domestic, (revolutions, civil wars), are more likely to be avoided the closer the division of labor binds men.”  But what about trade wars of capitalism? What about the whole history of capitalism? 

Here is another pearl. “Why does the conflict occur between classes, and why not within the classes?” Mises is persuaded that here he has a trump card against Marx. If there is no conflict within a class, then there can be no conflicts outside of a class, i.e., between classes. “It is impossible to demonstrate a principle of association that exists within a collective group only, and that is inoperative beyond it.” Of course this is an absolute absurdity. Quite definite, specific interests connect the working class, and not by some cloudy principle of association. “Taken to its logical conclusion, class conflict is not a theory of society but a theory of unsociability, i.e., a conflict of each against all.”  This masterpiece Mises borrows from Paul Barth.5  Now it is clear who are Mises’s spiritual associates in this “anti-Marxism”! One is worth as much as another. This Paul Barth has a quite deserved reputation as a desperately boring mediocrity. 

And there is one more “scholar” of the same caliber and manner that our angry professor is quoting: Othmar Spann.6 This Spann is an absolutely open “scholar” of fascism, spiritual leader of “national socialism.” He is a branch on the same tree as the ignoramus Hitler and philologist- historian Oswald Spengler.  Spann, whose very being is a telltale proof of the class character not just of the society as it is, but of the whole of [bourgeois] science as well, states that Marx gave no definition and delineation of the notion of a class, and that the terms “class interest,” “class status,” “class conflict,” “class ideology” are imprecise and indeterminate. 

Mises adds that the third volume of [Marx’s] Das Kapital abruptly breaks off at the very place where there was to be an interpretation of the meaning of “classes.”  Nevertheless, as Mises sadly remarks, “the concept of a class became the cornerstone of modern German sociology.” “Dependence on Marx is the special characteristic of German social sciences. Surely Marxism has left its traces as well on the social thinking of France, Great Britain, the United States, the Scandinavian countries, and the Netherlands.” That is how Mises complains. Obviously, the state of affairs of “anti-Marxism” does not look too bright. Mises, the spiritual gendarme of the bourgeoisie, having no arguments whatsoever, is simply appealing to the interests of the bourgeoisie. Sure! This is another obvious “refutation” of Marx’s analyses of classes. 

But what “anti-Marxism” is challenging is “not socialism but only Marxism.” And after his “crushing” criticism Mises gives his positive analyses. He titles it “National (Anti-Marxian) Socialism.”  So here are old acquaintances: “National Socialism,” and the “national-socialistic” trend of Hitler-types. Mises unifies all of this under the umbrella of the fascist movement. 

Here we have right in front of us the so-called first theoretical attempt to provide a foundation for German fascism. As for right now, this attempt by Mises looks more like a mixture of tangled amusements and contradictions; but let’s see where this beginning takes him. Now we will see that the contradictions in which Mises is entangled are not just amusing, but in a certain sense also symptomatic and characteristic. 

German “étatists” (that is how for some reason Mises chooses to label the representatives of German social sciences who were taken prisoner by Marx) “see in modern imperialism of the countries of Entente the same thing as do Marxists: the development of capitalist aspiration for expansion.” Mises obviously doesn’t like this. But only in the sense that he considers the primary factor to be national hatred. Mises, the theorist of fascism, elevates national hatred to the pearl of creation. Here is his “theory”: “The Marxian socialist proclaims: The conflict of classes but not the conflict of peoples, away with imperialistic war! But having proclaimed this he adds: but always (!) civil war, revolution. National Socialism proclaims: Unification of the people, class peace; but he adds to it, a war against the foreign enemy.” So the thunder of victory can be heard. 

But the World War made a breach in this Gelerterian symmetrical construction. Mises advocates the sergeant-major, Hindenburg psychology of no defeat,  but at the same time he would like to use the lessons of defeat. “German theory and practice could only proclaim the principle of force and struggle. Its application isolated the German nation from the world, and led to its defeat in the Great War.” Mises wants to have his cake and eat it, too. And now Mises admits, “for the German nation a violent solution to the problem is least satisfactory.” Mises thinks, though, that the same principle of self-determination of people cannot help in those areas where Germans live together with other people and represent the minority (among Danish, Lithuanians, Poles, Czechs, Hungarians, Croats, Slovenians, and French). 

Obviously, one has to seek allies and coalitions. So Mises comes to what for a fascist is an absolutely unexpected conclusion: “German anti-Marxism and Russian super-Marxism are not too far from the politics of mutual agreement and alliance…In such a situation Germany could find only one ally: Russia, which is facing the same hostility as Germany from Poles, Lithuanians, Hungarians, and in some sense even Czechs, but nowhere stands in direct conflict with German interests.” Mises assures that “Bolshevist Russia, like czarist Russia, only knows force in dealing with other nations.”

This absurdity and slander is not Mises’s original concoction; the tales about our “Red imperialism” are blossoming in bourgeois Europe. But how he plans to combine, in this case, an alliance with Russia after he has just proclaimed the rejection of the politics of force, well, this remains Mises’s secret. The following is also amusing: The reconciliation of German “anti-Marxian nationalism” (which is fascism) with the anti-Marxian nationalism of so-called Fascist Italy, as well as with the awakening of Hungarian chauvinism, is not possible, according to Mises, because German national interests come into conflict with Italian interests in South Tyrol and Hungarian interests in western Hungary. 

Even here in the arena of national politics Mises has his “theoretical” trump card against Marx. This is the problem of immigration. According to Mises, it is an essential question for the Germans, and he is indignant at the fact that in the entire pre-war German literature there is no published research analyzing the limitations and restrictions on immigration. “This silence, better than anything else, reveals the Marxian bias in social literature.” Mises also refers to the Congress of the Second International in Stuttgart in 1907, where there was passed the compromising resolution in reference to the immigration of colored workers. The Austrian representative stated that the majority of the Austrian Labor party is against such immigration. Mises keeps discussing the fact that the U. S. trade unions are undertaking “class conflict” not against their own employers but against European workers and Negroes. He conscientiously closes his eyes to the fact that those trade unions are yellow Gomperists, anti-Marxian, and that the Communist International makes as its cornerstone exactly the international solidarity of all workers and of all races, and gives special significance to the people of the Orient. 

Mises presents the issue as if the whole social problem has its modern roots in the impossibility of free immigration, while in his own German fatherland everything is fine concerning this matter. In fact, immigration for Mises serves as a channel to fulfill the economic interests of the German bourgeoisie, though it wraps it in the cloths of “national socialism.” Marx irrefutably proved that the laws of the growth in population are dependent upon the economic system; the overpopulation of Germany, which makes the country seek colonies, is a pure capitalist population problem, the result of capitalist exploitation. 

In this context, Mises’s argument has the purpose of hiding the real reasons: the wounding of the imperialist interests of the German bourgeoisie as a result of the World War. So, Mises’s “national socialism” is socialism without Marxism, and is nothing but a mask to cover the class interests of the bourgeoisie. Here, as before, “anti-Marxism” is one more confirmation of Marxism. By the way, to where did Mises’s much-praised “utilitarian sociology” disappear, his theoretical heavy artillery? It happens to be that his “harmony of interests” exists only in the national arena among the employers and workers of the same nation, but in the international arena even workers go against workers—that’s what Mises states based on the practice of the yellow unionism of Gompers (his “workers aristocracy”); this is the fruit of imperialism. 

In one way or another, Mises assures that “a violent solution (of the national problem) is even less applicable today than it was in prewar Germany.” The fascist in the role of peacemaker, isn’t that a spectacle for the gods? But the solution is quite simple, and Mises shows his own cards. In Czechoslovakia the German minority has to fight for its democracy and freedom from state interference in economic life; the same as in other countries where Germans are in a minority. How can we, he openly admits, combine it with the politics of intervention in Germany itself! 

Mises also finds shortcomings in the newest, but very anemic and weak, “anti-Marxism.” The representatives of anti-Marxism, Mises says, are satisfied with criticizing the political conclusions of Marxism, but they don’t challenge the sociological doctrine behind Marxism. Who are those representatives? Mises actually only mentions Spann. Forgive us this vulgar joke: The whole “Spanna”7 of the German fascists found their “theorist” in this one and only Spann. This Spann, believe it or not, attacks Marxism because Marxism is “a product of Western individualism, which is foreign to the German spirit.” (By the way, when did Germany become the East?) Mises suggests that this attack, and the fact that Spann identifies Marxism with liberalism and individualism, have purely political motives, resulting from Spann’s hostility toward liberalism. 

“It is illogical,” says Mises, “to deduce a similarity of the two from an opposition to both.” Let’s put aside here the fact that Mises, in his turn, identifies social democracy with Marxism, and has not yet been persuaded that social democracy is completely harmless. But it is very characteristic that Mises aspires to make peace between democracy (liberalism) and fascism. We have partly observed and are still observing the similar process in Italy. Fascism, being purely a bourgeois movement, needs liberalism: scorpions for the workers, but liberalism for the bourgeoisie, since the bourgeoisie needs liberalism for protectionism and the internationalism of the state.

Mises and Werner Sombart are two aggressive warriors of “anti-Marxism”. But Mises is not happy with Sombart. He considers Sombart, who was the first “to introduce Marx to German science,” still to be a prisoner of Marx. It is very instructive that Mises talks about Sombart’s hidden sympathies that one can find when reading between the lines. It happens to be that Sombart dreams about the Middle Ages and an agrarian state. He is the enemy of modern industrialism, the enemy of “railroads and factories, steel furnaces and machines, telegraph wires and motorcycles, gramophones and airplanes, cinematography and power stations, cast iron and aniline colors.”  Mises gives this quote from Sombart, as an enumeration of what the socialist critics “have not yet once accused capitalism.” It looks like cast iron and aniline colors didn’t please Sombart. . . . It is wonderful that for Spann, the leader of nationalistic anti-Marxism, the social ideal also is “a return to the Middle Ages.” This confession by Mises is very interesting. The state of affairs in Mises’s camp is very sad; the “theorists” of German fascism are probably simply not very healthy people. And Mises reproaches Sombart for “a sickly weakness of nerves,” in the inability to preserve spiritual stability even among gramophones and airplanes. 

But Sombart and Spann are precisely those who advertise Teutonic strength and fortitude; Mises hits them at their weakest point. He hits them from the perspective of their own sergeant-major psychology, pointing to the fact that without steel furnaces and airplanes Germany will find itself helpless if confronted with the foreign enemy. Sombart is dreaming “pre-proletarian utopianism” with its “bucolic” character. Mises’s response to him is that with the establishment of a bucolic agrarian state in our own time they should kiss goodbye any dream of domination. The conservatism of Sombart and Spann reflects their retrograde ideal of a Prussian landlord – the diehard; Mises “corrects” this ideal on behalf of the bourgeoisie, with its imperialistic tendencies. 

Mises accuses his colleague Sombart that in his two-volume book of one thousand pages on Proletarian Socialism (1924) he never gives “a precise definition of the concept of socialism.” Sombart interprets the argument about socialism not as a discussion about “economic technology” but as an argument either for God or for Satan. According to Sombart, socialism wishes to throw the source of all the evil in the world, money, “into the rain,” like the rings of Nibelungs. Those pitiful phrases that can impress a young fascist student makes Mises reproach Sombart bitterly for the fact that he does not speak against socialism as a whole, but only against proletarian socialism, against Marxism. But Mises himself is also a follower of “national socialism.”…This is too much of contradictions and confusions. 

A little further on, Mises finds that Sombart admits that socialism is in accordance with the interests of the proletariat. The struggle against “proletarian socialism” appears to be a hopeless affair, and Sombart himself becomes an unconscious Marxist. This is what Mises, the keeper of anti- Marxian purity, asserts. Really, Sombart wants to overcome class conflict through ethics and religion; but in that case, according to Mises, Sombart is admitting that class conflict exists. As a result, Sombart has to appeal to God, which is more of a confession than a statement of science, and thus, as a result, provides no proof. That is how Mises dethrones Sombart in order to retain the laurels for himself as the only actual “anti-Marxist” and theorist of fascism. 

An Accumulation of Affect

Discourse related to the concept of emotional labor can highlight the way capitalism distorts our humanity or merely naturalize capitalism, argues Richard Hunsinger. 

I spend most of my days at a front desk, staring at a window with a grate over it. I watch the light change as the hours crawl. The room is an icebox, but since I am the first face anyone sees, I must be warm. My work can be summed up as an extra layer of emails that others must go through for scheduling with my superiors, processing payments, and ordering food and arranging rooms for meetings. I smooth out the tasks that others formerly had to do themselves. This role is designed to maximize the efficiency of the office functions of the organization. I have nearly perfected the process for email responses and calendar surveys, and reliably make payments on time. In down moments, I read the news or talk to people on Twitter. The 9-5 consistency and the chance to have the most pay I have ever been offered was something I knew I wanted, at least to avoid the precarity of other jobs. But between this schedule and living on the other side of town for lower rent, I’ve been kept from time with friends. The internet is often where I feel closest to anyone. I have never uploaded a picture to my work email because I am not there. 

Here and there, complications come up that ruffle the smoothness expected from my performance. Sometimes there is not enough food at meetings. People might want hotel rooms booked for a large group with less than a week in advance to a popular location, and to add extra people at the actual last minute. Often I am sent payment information with incorrect routing numbers, delaying the transaction. Important people show up for meetings hidden from my calendars, asking about details not shared with me. When they sense my confusion, their brows furrow. I smile and think of something charming to say, hoping to see the tension in their facial muscles relax. When these moments happen, I do what I can to assuage concern and I keep things going. 

The other day, this did not go as planned and food went pretty quickly. Someone important commented on my unsanitary handling of food. Others sat where it had been served, and getting more in the room ended up being difficult, so it was a distraction. My boss called me in for a meeting, asked what I thought went wrong, and gave me more precise directions on how to avoid this in the future. A professional development class is suggested. I am asked if I think this job is still a good fit for me. I think they are trying to see if I would quit on my own. There is a brief and quick flash of what I think is fear, as I immediately think of my rent, cost of food, other job prospects. That I am burdened with knowing these difficulties, while the present moment depends on me not betraying this, brings a lump to my throat, and I feel the pressure behind my eyes. Is this really about to make me cry? I hold it back, I smile, I assure them that I want to be successful. I take the notes down, I listen to suggestions for how I can order food better. I think about going home, and the next 5 hours until my partner gets home and I can see her again.

I realize that I am expected to perform an emotional ideal much of the time at my work. This has been true for all of my working life. This is not a unique experience in the life of the collective worker today and has given rise to a growing discourse on the subject of emotional labor. It spills out into new avenues of discussion of what exactly it comprises, and where the line between our exploitation and our personal lives exactly lies. In this discourse, it is not at all unusual to come across a wide range of positions, experiences, and reactions. Some attribute the discourse on emotional labor to an ideological basis, that this is simply a form of liberalism gone amok. There are those who see this as a symptom of the most recent, cogent reformation of capitalism’s development, neoliberalism and see it as a totality of marketizing emotional relations between social peers. This appears more accurate, yet more often than not glosses over exactly why the exploitation of labor now increasingly relies upon an assurance of the emotional presentation of the worker, and worse tends to display a tenuous grasp on what “neoliberalism” means except as a bogeyman for today’s ills. 

What I seek to achieve here is a grounding of emotional labor as such within the context of Marxist political economy. We must see the discourse surrounding this phenomenon as a process in motion interrelated with the development of labor’s exploitation in an economy that has seen a dramatic rise in its consumer service sector. This acts as an arena of exploitation where the laborer’s access to the wage is increasingly under the watchful eye of every consumer and supervisor. From this, we can see what the growth of emotional labor as a discursive regime reveals to us about the state of alienation in the development of capitalism of late.

We have to begin this analysis with the understanding that, as proletarians and wage-workers in a capitalist mode of production, we have nothing to offer in order to reproduce ourselves except our capacity to sell labor-power as a commodity to the capitalist. This labor-power, as a commodity, must possess both a use-value for its buyer and an exchange-value for its seller. The use-value here is the capacity to perform a given amount of labor within a given amount of time. We must do this in order to earn our wage, the exchange-value for labor-power expressed as a price. We do this in order to use said wage to purchase our means of subsistence, sold to us in commodity form. The key here is that, for the proletariat in a society where the capitalist mode of production prevails, a basic survival and a guarantee of some quality of life depends upon the capacity to sell labor-power and to find a buyer. We must search for a master even if there exists no desire for such. 

To this end, what is to be understood of the exploitation of emotional labor as pertains to the working life of wage laborers? Emotional labor is a term coined by Arlie Russell Hochschild, to give a name to the experience of the worker in managing, and through this, suppressing, their expressions and behavior in order to fulfill the emotional demands of a job. Hochschild finds three common elements to employment that require the use of emotional labor by the worker: “First, they require face-to-face or voice-to-voice contact with the public. Second, they require the worker to produce an emotional state in another person — gratitude or fear, for example. Third, they allow the employer, through training and supervision, to exercise a degree of control over the emotional activities of employees.”1 

These can be seen every day in almost any job that requires some form of interaction between the worker and a consumer or superior. The use-value of labor-power as a commodity in these jobs is reliant upon the capacity of the worker to both give an emotional performance and induce a specific affect in those they engage throughout. The worker is alienated not only from their labor-power, but also from their genuine emotional expression. We need not look far to find examples in gig economy jobs, work supposedly “autonomized” by a decentralized coordination of services via app, many of which impose a customer ratings system for every transaction made.

This is made even more clear when taking into account the rapid growth of employment in the service sector, encompassing a wide variety of professions and requiring constant interaction with the public as consumers. The growth of employment in service-based industries is far outpacing that of employment in direct manufacturing and production in the United States, and is expected to keep doing so over the course of the next decade.2 The stability of the wage in US capitalism of today, and thus the use-value of labor-power, is increasingly reliant on a capacity of the worker to perform an emotional labor in transactions: satisfy the boss and constantly ease the conscience of the customer, thus reifying the commodity in its exchange, transforming it into money, and allowing for capital’s reproduction to proceed accordingly. Though in Hochschild’s original research, published in the early 1980s, she found a prevalence for this type of employment in the clerical office and retail-oriented work of what then constituted the so-called middle classes, she offers a prescient observation for the future of this phenomenon: 

“If jobs that call for emotional labor grow and expand with the spread of automation and the decline of unskilled labor — as some analysts believe they will — this general social track may spread much further across other social classes. If this happens, the emotional system itself — emotion work, feeling rules, and social exchange, as they come into play in a ‘personal control system’ — will grow in importance as a way through which people are persuaded and controlled both on the job and off. If, on the other hand, automation and the decline of unskilled labor leads to a decline in emotional labor, as machines replace the personal delivery of services, then this general social track may come to be replaced by another that trains people to be controlled in more impersonal ways.”3 

The US economic situation of today is one of a rapidly deindustrializing imperial core. As a site of capital-intensive production that has shed living labor from its processes and automated many jobs out of existence, US development to date has given rise to a growing relative surplus population whose primary objective as a labor force is the circulation and consumption of commodities through sale and purchase. The privileged position of the US as a site to capture extracted surplus value from more labor-intensive production chains in global peripheries no longer supports the buffer from class struggle that the construction of a middle class once provided. As capital accumulation has intensified and reached new limits that pose as barriers to capital’s expanded reproduction, more avenues for circulation must be opened up. Over the past 40 years, during what can be understood as the neoliberal regime of accumulation, even the imperial core has seen the slashing and gutting of social support services from governments. This has led to increased privatization of that which used to sustain a state-supported social reproduction of the workforce and a degree of class mobility in the so-called middle classes. This onset of privatization and the accompanying deregulation of the financial industry that aided it can be seen as a period where capital accumulation outstripped the limits on profitability imposed by state-supported services towards social reproduction, as the organization of capital and labor underwent structural transformations on a global scale.4

It is important to contextualize this historically. The very reason that we see growing awareness of the exploitation of emotional labor, the fundamental coercion of this performance, is structured by the wage relation in this specific historical trajectory. This moment brings us upon convergence between, on the one hand, a stagnant, deindustrializing manufacturing sector placing the US proletariat more and more into jobs involving interpersonal social interactions, and, on the other, an era where the social reproduction of the proletariat as a workforce has increasingly failed. The expectation of emotional performance in the work environment, as well as the increased dominance of working life over personal life to accommodate for decades of suppressed wage growth to maintain profitability5, has led to an exhaustion of emotional capacity in personal life. The awareness of this has become a defining characteristic to the way that we understand alienation in capitalist society today.

At the base of all processes of capital accumulation is a separation, as in Marx’s “primitive accumulation” and Harvey’s “accumulation by dispossession,” that acts to form the constitutive social relation between classes of production for exchange that is capital. In the instance of the worker’s emotional capacity as use-value of the commodity labor-power, a further separation is occurring. No longer is it simply the alienation of the worker from their labor-power, but now from emotional expression in this capacity as worker. Affect is commodified, and its appropriation as such here is with the intent to subvert the emotional capacity of the worker to the aims of capital. But as stated above, in the context of this period of capitalism’s countertendencies to declining profitability deployed with an intensifying aggression, we are approaching a severe limit to capital’s reproduction process. To this end, the commodity of labor-power, now as a commodified capacity to provide emotional labor in working life, is pushed to a limit in accordance with the demands of capital’s continued reproduction, and only moves to continually reach beyond that limit as capital stands on the verge of another crisis once again. We, as an increasingly debt-encumbered proletariat, sense this crisis every day. Every day at work is another day we must bear a false smile and perform positive emotional well-being if we are to stave off the looming threats of eviction, starvation, and immiseration that losing our job entails. The alienation of ourselves from autonomy over our emotions as the use-value of emotional labor is thus not only for the benefit of any given customer, but for the stability of the whole of capitalist society.

This brings us to Hochschild’s ominous foretelling of a “personal control system” above, as we have seen this degree of social alienation drastically restructure social life today. Susan Willis posits in discussing the political economy of domestic labor, in the example of the use-value of the married mother at home that in this instance does not fold the laundry, “it is only the failure to create use-value that can be made visible.”6 For the use-value of emotional labor, it is vital that the veneer of the laborer’s emotional state exists for the smooth realization of commodity value in exchange, and thus accumulation, to proceed uninterrupted. The failure to provide this exposes a dissatisfaction that reveals that the worker’s emotional performance is just that, a performance, and exposes all to the coercive regimes of personal control that we are all subject to under a life structured by the need to work for a wage. To this end, we find ourselves simultaneously existing at the other end of Hochschild’s prediction, where now a growing number of service-related jobs are also being automated out of existence. We need look no further than the growth of cashier-less lines at grocery stores and commodities delivered by Amazon drones. These systems themselves will never be free of human labor, though they certainly train us to internalize the fact that under the domination of the class relation of capital all human life is effectively disposable. The exploitation of living labor is merely a problem of geographic reorganization to areas where another section of the proletariat will bear the burdens of production.

We are now faced with a situation where, on the one hand, we are under the duress of an increasingly alienated and impoverished social life. This is carried out in exploitation of increasing intensity that pits us smiling, unwillingly, in front of any passing stranger that wishes to make a purchase. We are thus less emotionally reliable than any machine that may take our place. On the other hand, capital can not exist without our pliable consent to its processes and must sustain us. But this is now only possible in an environment where we are increasingly deprived of the time for the most emotionally fulfilling, deeply personal moments necessary for our own reproduction. The immobility of this immanent contradiction to capital’s expanded reproduction has driven us to a new discursive terrain for emotional labor, as we are increasingly aware of the contradiction and its effects.

There is the understanding that emotional labor, as contextualized within the working environment, is coercion of sentiment from the worker to induce a specific emotional affect in the consumer. This is fundamentally different from the role emotion plays for us in daily life, untethered to the demands of a job. To a social life amongst people outside of work, the use of our emotions is to be of authentic expression, fundamental to all communication. The labor of emotion in a context free of the wage-relation is not inherently a coerced act but part of our metabolism with ourselves and each other in social life for our own ends, for both pleasure and pain alike. To experience this as alienated labor for the drive of capital is to subvert this to the demands of the economic dictums of a mode of production that sells us back to each other in dead, objectified forms.

There is also the reaction of those who see emotional labor as coercion in life outside of the wage: the application of an awareness of the exploitation of emotional labor as a process to be mediated through an exchange where one previously did not exist. This has resulted in the notorious phrase “venmo me for my emotional labor,” a phrase that today is not always clearly situated in a space of either sincerity or irony. Phrases like “venmo me for my emotional labor” tend to draw severe ire in many online circles, and I can be sure many reading this have witnessed and participated in moments where they’ve seen this phrase used. The phenomenon to which this is a reaction to is certainly real. As seen above, it is also clearly rooted in a material situation of the prevalence of the exploitation of emotional labor. However, the application of the framework of emotional labor to interpersonal communication outside of waged work, if it aims to be a position that seeks to challenge oppression, does so by further naturalizing capitalist social relations, and thus fails. 

It is certainly healthy and important to have emotional boundaries and to operate on the basis of consensual interaction in social life, but to do so by formalizing the emotional and making further transactional interpersonal experience amongst each other is to reify the customer-worker dynamic that prevails under wage labor. In the more vulgar iterations of this, we may see demands of monetary compensation for emotional labor. To seek to address emotional labor in this manner is to take up a rigidly economic line of reasoning that abandons the possibility of redeeming the social significance of the emancipatory use of our emotions for ourselves and each other while in the process merely affirming exchange-value as the basis for struggle and the measure of all value. There is no possibility here beyond a grafting of our exploited life onto the social, and falls prey to the same misgivings of those that call for the payment of labor its “full value” in the wage; a far cry from the emancipation of labor and the self-abolition of the proletariat, leading only to momentary placation until the next wage battle.

The quickness to invoke the issue of interpersonal emotional labor is, however, part of our collective rage at present — the era of human feeling being ripped from its bearers so we can buy and sell commodities more efficiently as the ship goes down once again. The displacement of this rage onto each other can appear a sound move, as such action amongst our own class is less prone to incur a retaliation that may have an immediate effect on needs such as food and shelter.  It is the condition of having to sell one’s labor for a wage to purchase these means of subsistence that stands as the primary cause of our emotional exhaustion. The hegemony of work-life prevents us from critiquing these conditions deeply; from realizing that the wage is a scam for a rote labor of performative friendliness, politeness, denial of our free-time, emotionally taxing work-relations of sociability, or, at worst, dealing with the verbally abusive treatment common to the service industry. It is all incredibly draining, and it is no wonder that this current discursive trend exists. Insisting on a transaction to mediate emotional support might be the most revealing symptom of the domination of capitalist social relations. But bearing resentment towards friends needing emotional support should be recognized as a symptom of this. It obscures the origin of our dissatisfaction in the domination of our lives by the irrational demands of capital. If you’re looking for a target for the rage, take on the boss, the landlord, the capitalist, and abolish their class, for it is only through this conquest and transcendence of the capital relation that we may see the end of this exploitation of our emotional labor.

“How Wearisome Eternity”: A review of ‘Capital is Dead’ by McKenzie Wark

Colin Drumm reviews McKenzie Wark’s latest book, ‘Capital Is Dead: Is This Something Worse’ (Verso Books, October 2019). 

“How wearisome / Eternity so spent in worship paid / To whom we hate.” So grumbles Milton’s Mammon at the council of angels, fanning the flames of their incipient revolt. Even the failure of rebellion must, surely, be preferable to the indignity of mouthing endless praises to an enemy who holds us in subjection — so why not throw the dice? To play the part of Mammon at the council of Marxists is a task that only an especially brave or reckless individual could take up, but that is exactly what McKenzie Wark, in her new offering from Verso, has done. Capital is Dead: Is This Something Worse? is an intervention into the political-economic discourse of the so-called “critical humanities” which is not so much timely as it is long overdue: those who read it should, in the opinion of this reviewer at least, hurry up and listen to what Wark has to say before they waste any more of their time (which is to say, any more of our time, which is precious and dwindling rapidly) chasing the ghosts of dead ideas. If Wark is right — which she surely is, at least in broad outline if not in every proposition or detail — then the “critics of capitalism” are, and have been for some time, laying siege to a heavenly fortress whose treasury has long since been secreted away, elsewhere. Perhaps it is time to pack up our theoretical cannons and redeploy. We should, as Wark almost begs in the book’s opening pages, “at least entertain the thought experiment that this is no longer capitalism at all. Curiously, the attempt to make this thought experiment meets with strong resistance. Even critical theory seems very emotionally attached to the notion that capitalism still goes on, and on.”

Wark’s argument proceeds from this point along two interwoven trajectories, the first of which entertains the “thought experiment,” while the second analyzes the “curious” resistance with which it is met. The claims of the first line of argument are fairly modest, and this modesty is a strength of the book: Wark has some speculations about how we might theorize the “new mode of production” whose existence the thought experiment hypothesizes, but these have more the feel of thinking aloud than of authoritative pronouncements. The stakes of agreeing or disagreeing with Wark’s precise formulations of the “Something Worse” in which we now live are, therefore, fairly low: while there are a lot of interesting and generative ideas here, which I will discuss in more detail below, the most important point is that we feel with Wark the freedom to think beyond “heirloom concepts like ‘capitalism’” which we “did not make ourselves” and thus “have come to take for granted.” If we begin to think in this way, if we burn the inheritance of our received ideas and strike out into the future without them, then we will surely be told “by some professor who has tenure… that Marx already explained everything in some obscure footnote in Volume 2 of Capital and that [we] should read the distinguished professor’s very long exegesis of it” — but what if we just… don’t? What if we resist the demands of what Wark calls the “genteel Marxists” of the university to pay obeisance to their archive, and instead have the courage to think again from scratch? In doing so, of course, we would only be following in the footsteps of the Old Man himself: “Marx,” as Wark notes, “was not a professor, did not have tenure, and was trying to explain both continuity and change in his own historical time.” To anyone truly committed to the ruthless critique of everything existing, there are no concepts and no figures so sacred that they cannot be abandoned like so much ballast, should the need arise: our fidelity to the tradition might demand that we abandon its every letter. Do not think, then, that McKenzie Wark has come to abolish Marxism. She did not come to destroy, but to fulfill.

In contrast to the modesty of its positive political economy, the book’s analysis of the resistance which greets the mere attempt at performing such a thought experiment is incisive and daring — or at least as daring as any attempt to speak open secrets aloud must necessarily be. This open secret is, of course, that Marxism has the structure of a theology:

The end of the dominance of capitalism as a mode of production is not a subject that has received much attention. For its devotees, it has no end, as it is itself the end of History. For its enemies, it can only end in Communism. If Communism — a state that exists mostly in the imaginal realm, always deferred into the future — has not prevailed, then this by definition must still be the reign of Capital… the present is defined mostly in terms of a hoped-for negation of it. Some theology!… The concept of Capital is theological precisely to the extent that questions of its possible surpassing by other exploitative modes of production remain off limits.

Even Marxists who think of themselves as materialists, Wark argues, have become committed to an idealist view of history (which she traces to to the influence of Louis Althusser) envisaging “an eternal essence to Capital” which “until the moment of negation… can change in its appearances but never its essence.” This possibility for a constant play of appearances around an eternal essential core of Capital was “like catnip to academic Marxists” who went on to build an industry of theorizing ‘capitalism plus adjective’: “necro capitalism, communicative capitalism, cognitive capitalism, platform capitalism,” and so on. But this vast terrain of modifications is ‘theologically closed’ in Wark’s terms insofar as it is structured around a negative concept of emancipation: “Emancipation is thought negatively as emancipation from capitalism. Therefore, the negative of emancipation must be capitalism.” What this philosophically idealist conception of history forecloses from the outset, however, is the possibility that capitalism itself has already become historical; that it has already been put into the past but by something other than what we had been expecting. What if the Messiah didn’t come… but somebody else did? “God is dead,” writes Wark. “Communism is dead. It is, at best, the legacy code of the Chinese ruling elite.” Pronouncements which will earn her some derision and hate mail, to be sure. But at the same time, is there not something exciting, something perhaps even a bit liberatory, in being given permission to think anew?

To cross the boundaries of theological closure is to become a heretic. What happens, then, if we become heretics against Marxism by abandoning its most fundamental set of historical-eschatological coordinates? If we cease to believe in the God whose name is Capital and decline to spend eternity in a worshipful critique of its totalizing power and infinite mutability? One possibility would be to become like the “former Marxists” who, as Wark puts it, “made a good living in the ‘free world’ coming up with… alternative epic poems” to the narrative about capitalism and its theological negation being forwarded by the orthodoxy of the Soviet Union:

These former Marxists would sing the glories of the ‘managerial revolution’ of the ‘postindustrial society’… What these epic narratives all had in common was that they accepted the basic Marxist combinatory of terms for understanding History. They conceded its power, its poetry. But they changed the ending. Rather than negation, the story ends with Capital resolving its own contradictions.

It is surely, in large part at least, experience with such ‘post-capitalist’ apologetics for an exploitative and violent social order that explains the fact that “when people hear the beginnings of a story about this no longer being capitalism, their resistance generally rises. Unless you happen to be worth several million dollars, the chances are you do not perceive [our current social order] as something better than capitalism or a capitalism that always improves on itself.” We do not need to spend any time entertaining right-Hegelian apologetics of this kind: obviously, to any intellectually serious and politically engaged observer, contradictions and antagonisms abound. But we can and should, Wark insists, at least explore the option of taking “the other fork of possible epic-poetic combinations of terms. Instead of the line that this is not capitalism, it’s better, what if we explored the line that this is not capitalism, but worse?” We would then find ourselves within the conceptual terrain of an atheism against the God of Capital, a pessimism against the optimism of Cold War revisionists, and an “a-communism” against the messianic expectations of the thesis according to which anything that is not-yet communism must still-be capitalism. 

Once we have become willing to entertain the possibility of such a heresy, what is there to say about its content? What would our new pessimistic political economy look like? Wark’s basic thesis is that the late 20th century marked the emergence of a new mode of production, coexisting alongside others, whose constitutive class antagonism centers not around control of the means of production but around control of “the infrastructure on which information is routed, whether through time or space,” which Wark calls “the vector.” Marx theorized a mode of production based around the accumulation of assets in the form of fixed capital, or machines, the exclusive control of which gave the owner access to an arbitrage play between what Marx called “price” and “cost-price,” or the difference between the average socially necessary labor required to produce a commodity and the actual labor costs of particular producers, who might be able to lower their cost-price below the general market price by investing in machines that gave their production process a technological (by which Marx meant, axiomatically, a labor-saving) advantage. This depends upon the assumption that all instances of a given commodity are identical and substitutable for one another: the argument depends upon the claim that all commodities of a given kind must sell at the same price: a nail is a nail is a nail. What a worker produces, when they produce a commodity, is something that is characterized at an ontological level by absolute identity: “The workplace nightmare of the worker,” as Wark puts it, “is having to make the same thing, over and over, against the pressure of the clock.”

But things are different if we consider not capital but the vector, or the ability to manufacture, control, and exploit situations of information asymmetry. The informational economy, according to Wark, is marked not by an original scarcity which must be overcome by production (a lack of nails solved by the making of nails) but by an original abundance: “Information wants to be free but it is everywhere in chains. Information is no longer scarce, it is infinitely replicable, cheap to store, cheap to transmit, and yet the whole premise of the commodity is its scarcity.” What Wark calls “the vectoralist class” must, therefore, in order to become the class that it is, develop “the legal and technical protocols for making otherwise abundant information scarce.” Part of this set of “protocols,” or what Wark at one point analogizes to the operating system upon which a regime of elite power and accumulation runs, is the legal apparatus of intellectual property, in which the key ontological dimension is not identity, as in the case of the commodity, but difference: “The hacker class produces new information. But what is ‘new’ information? It is whatever intellectual property law recognizes as new… the workplace nightmare of the hacker is to produce different things, over and over, against the pressure of the clock.” This new mode of production, Wark’s thought experiment speculates, has given rise to a new owning class, the vectoralists, who have subordinated the industrialists in the same way that the industrialists subordinated the feudal landlords, and has done so by means of their ability to exploit the hacker class’s production of new information.

Wark’s point is not that the hacker class should replace Marx’s industrial proletariat in its role as the protagonist of history. She does not claim, at any point in the text, that the hacker class carries with it any inherent revolutionary potential. Her point is merely that it exists, and that we might have some good theoretical reasons to believe that what we are looking at is a system quite qualitatively distinct from that which our tradition has been in the habit of theorizing. While Capital, Wark points out, theorizes an ideal-type system with two classes, “in his political writings it is clear that he understands social formations as hybrids of combined and overlapping modes of production… So here I’m simply taking my cue from the political writings and thinking a matrix of six classes, three ruling and three subordinate.” Wark’s sketch of a theory of political economy entails three dimensions of antagonism which are really three different ontologies of labor: “Where the farmer grows crops through a seasonal cycle and the worker stamps out repetitive units of commodities, the hacker has to use their time in a different way, to turn the same old information into new.” Each of these ontologies of labor can be seen as producing its own, qualitatively distinct class antagonism, around which form multiple and socially distinct owning classes: landlords, capitalists, and vectoralists, respectively.

Wark locates the historical rise of the vectoralist class in the crisis of the seventies, when the technological development of a “vast, global infrastructure in which information enabled the control of flows of money, machines, resources, and labor” formed the material basis for the process generally known as neoliberalization “to globalize banking and build vast international supply chains to combine components of a manufacturing process from all over the world.” The development, Wark suggests, marked a transformation by which “the state form of the former East prevailed in the former West. The vector is not just a means of transforming production. It is also a way of transforming state power… The new model worldwide uses the vector to realize the dreams of the KGB of old.” With this transformation, Wark intones, we now find ourselves in a West which has become a “former West,” our economy transformed by the rise of the vector and its owners into something that is no longer capitalism, but worse. “To the vector the spoils.”

Whatever one thinks of the precise details of Wark’s positive argument, the fact that it is presented as a mere thought experiment, in a book of only 169 pages, tends to disarm any impulse to dismiss the book based on disagreement with any particular proposition. The story that Wark tells in the book is, for example, completely devoid of any attention to the macroeconomic and geopolitical context of the structural transformation of the 70s in which she locates the rise of our new vectoralist oppressors, but at the end of the day, this simply does not matter. What does matter about the book is that she demonstrates the possibility, and indeed the immense value, in thinking aloud a possibility which we have thus far generally not permitted ourselves to think: that capitalism might be over even if communism didn’t come. This is, as Wark correctly diagnoses, a theological problem, a conflict between heresy and orthodoxy, and such disputes are not known for their resolution through rational debate and elaboration of evidence. The real value of the book lies in the fact that those who have already found themselves thinking along similar lines might find in it the permission to think freely. Can we, as Wark exhorts us, unleash our “inner punk rock goddesses” and finally, at long last, relinquish Marx? Well. Maybe. It’s at least a possibility.

 

The Grey Tree of Post-Keynesianism and Monetarism: The Classical Account, Inflation, and Unemployment

Djamil Lakhdar-Hamina takes a look at Keynesianism and Modern Monetary Theory and argues they are based on an idealistic notion of science. 

“I said, ‘This far you may come and no farther; here is where your proud waves halt!”  — Job 38:11 New Living Translation

Theory, my friend, is grey, but green is the eternal tree of life.” — Lenin, inspired by Goethe

Setting up the terms of the game

What is science? There are two basic answers to this question.   

According to neo-positivists, science is the business of coming up with theories, bodies of declarative sentences organized into a deductive system. Some of these statements are couched in theoretical terms, while others are couched in observational terms. Each statement is true if and only if it is verifiable and observable. Therefore, all theoretical statements must be reducible to statements about observations. Ultimately, scientific theories are accepted as the best current theory in virtue of the fact that observable predictions cash out.  

According to realists, science is the business of describing and explaining causal mechanisms. Theories are models representing causal mechanisms which explain observable phenomena. Ultimately, we accept or reject a theory if it is true – if it refers to real processes that explain observable phenomena. However, a scientific theory is never final, and we constantly make observable predictions to check the truth of a theory.

In economics, a theory takes the form of a model. The dominant philosophy of science in economics for a long-time was neo-positivism. In the essay “The Methodology of Positive Economics,” Milton Friedman states that a model is accepted because the empirical predictions it made cash out. It does not matter if the assumptions it is based on are true or realistic. What is this unrealistic and idealistic positivism?

The orthodox method in economics assumes a fictitious world of perfect competition, where buyers and sellers have full access to information which makes monopolies absent. The economist then explains reality by how it does not correspond to the fiction. However, in science the theory must best correspond to reality, and if it does not, it cannot claim the label “scientific theory”.

Keynesians and Post-Keynesians are no better because they build a fiction of perfect competition and then add imperfections into the fiction. Apparently, we once lived under “perfect competition” but now reality exhibits “imperfect competition”. Once again, the reality is explained as an imperfection(!), as deviating from the fictitious norm, as opposed to the fiction being way off in the first place. This unrealistic method considers reality imperfect rather than the theoretical quicksand of its own imperfect musings.

This unrealistic method was foreign to Marx who worked to abstract the real features and tendencies of the capitalist mode of production in order to explain its structure and behavior. For instance, he understood how real competition was never perfect and leads, in the long-term, to monopoly. However, there are dynamics and tendencies that act to cohere and break up monopoly power (Sears, after all, is no more). The point is to abstract the real features and tendencies that correspond to reality to come up with an explanatory theory, not to explain reality by how it does not live up to fiction.

The willingness to accept false presuppositions and idealized models is a real scientific faux-pas in economics. In science, it is probably impossible to achieve complete realism. In machine learning, we speak of the trade-off between interpretability and complexity. The more complex (real) a model is, the harder it is to understand and use. Nonetheless, within limits, we strive for maximum realism.

The way I see it, we accept a theory faced with another because it is closer to reality. If the theories make the same predictions it is difficult to determine which to choose. If two competing theories make different predictions, then by observation we can eliminate one. This scientific method allows us to discard theories that we know to be false while keeping theories that do best faced with the evidence.

The history of inflation and unemployment in the 20th century presents the perfect opportunity to test the realism of competing models.

Keynesianism versus Monetarism 

Imagine we are in a recession. There is high unemployment, wages are low, and there is little to no growth. We need to stimulate growth and raise employment and wages. We cannot resort right now to socialism.

If you ask most economists, here very loosely monetarists, what would happen if you raise wages?

They look to their models. The model says that the market delivers the real wage and full employment. Hence, messing with the operation of the market will lead you to raise unemployment.  

We should observe a rise in unemployment. The best policy then is to not interfere in the workings of the market.

Now if you ask a Post-Keynesian?

They look to the model that has been developed since Keynes (which is very often not the same thing as what the man thought and said). The model says that a market which achieves equilibrium (meaning supply and demand are equal) may not be at full-employment because of depressed effective demand. Increasing wages increases effective demand.

We should observe a fall in unemployment. The best policy then is to increase effective demand through deficit spending.

Which of the two models makes correct predictions? The truth is that both fail to make correct predictions.

There are times when Keynesian theory worked:

  1. In the era of the Great Depression, the massive deficit spending of the Roosevelt administration was correlated with a return to growth, decreased unemployment, and increased wages. Roosevelt actually tried to stop the level of expenditures in the middle of the 1930s only to witness returning signs of recession.
  2. A darker example. In 1933, the Nazis engaged in massive deficit spending and other Keynesian measures to pay for rearmament. Within one year of rule they had eliminated unemployment and returned the economy to full employment. Wages were another question…
  3. In the postwar period, Western governments maintained deficit spending and other Keynesian measures. It surely must have been for something as this was retrospectively dubbed “the Golden age of Capitalism” and saw high rates of growth, low levels of employment, and rising wages in the Western world.

This means there are cases where monetarism’s predictions are worthless. Monetarism cannot explain the recovery, Nazi Germany, and the postwar period. These are significant predictive failings.

However, there are times when Keynesian policy failed.

In the 1958 paper “The Relation Between Unemployment and the Rate of Change of Money Wage Rates in the United Kingdom, 1861–1957,” New Zealand Keynesian economist William Phillips observed a negative correlation, or trade-off, between money wages and inflation. Somehow this trade-off was converted into a trade-off between unemployment and inflation and became encrusted into post-Keynesian orthodoxy; this trade-off is known as the Phillips curve.

In the postwar period, there developed a hubristic belief amongst the technocratic, liberal elite called “fine-tuning.” The belief was that with proper fiscal policy, deficit spending, it was possible to eliminate the business cycle, the volatility of capitalism, and to deliver full employment and robust wages. The trade-off was some inflation, which apparently, with the proper counter-measures, could be tamed.

However, in the 1970s something happened that Keynesian theory had been unable to predict. In fact, post-Keynesians witnessed something that was supposedly theoretically impossible. The 1970s saw stagflation, i.e., rising unemployment and rising inflation. But we were told that with decreasing unemployment came increased inflation and vice-versa! What of the Phillips curve? The Phillips curve broke down. The failure of the Keynesians to predict, explain, and respond to stagflation gave credence to Monetarist economists who at least could claim to have the semblance of an explanation for such a state of affairs. They, therefore, seemed poised to offer a solution.

Therefore, both of these theories have exhibited predictive — and we can surmise explanatory — failings. None of them are able to predict, much less explain, all the cases. Luckily, there is another explanation. It allows us to put the events in their proper place.

Classical-Marxist Explanation

There is a theory that is able to make sense of when Keynesianism worked and when it did not, developed by Anwar Shaikh.1 Shaikh derives his theory from the classical tradition that began with Smith and culminated in Marx.

According to Shaikh, the movements of modern money are shaped by dynamic variables of demand and supply. On the demand side, inflation increases with net injections of purchasing power. It can rise because of government, private, or foreign spending.2

On the supply side, inflation decreases with respect to net profitability, which is profit minus interest and increases with respect to supply resistance, which is the share of profit reinvested. According to Shaikh, the maximum limit of growth is determined by the profit rate at the limit when all profits are allocated to investment.

Intuitively, the decreased net-profitability and increased supply resistance mean there is less space to make a profit through investment in labor and means of production, and tightness on the supply-side puts pressure on capitalists to raise prices. To put it crudely, you can’t produce more, so you raise prices.

The question is always the interaction of these dynamic variables in the observation of an outcome and which is more ‘powerful’ in its effects.

Typically, we observe hyper-inflation in the case when purchasing power increases but the level of output does not.

Stagflation is a case which can be produced when purchasing power increases and net profitability is not as strong as growth, so the tightness on the supply-side translates to increased prices.

A Final Simple Test

But there is an even simpler test to explain the success and failure of Keynesianism. Anwar Shaikh calls it a ‘dividing line’ for Keynesianism. A real limit.

For the cases in which Keynesianism succeeds, net profitability rises faster than wages — the growth of wages is kept in check.

This is precisely the case for the New Deal, as net-profitability regained faster than the rise in wages.

In Nazi Germany, the Nazis financed full employment but took the most scrupulous measures to control prices, wages, and profits. They did not allow wages to sky-rocket, and net-profitability was healthy. Take the following table recreated from the work of Otto Nathan “The Nazi Economic System,”3  which should be taken with a grain of salt, since it was published during the war:

Annual Average Gainfully Employed Total Nominal Income
Year Wage Earners (Millions) Salaried Employees (Millions) Total Wage Earners (Millions of Reichsmarks) Salaried Employees (Millions of Rms) Total
1929 14.76 3.16 17.92 23,339 7,649 30,988
1932 9.99 2.69 12.68 11,320 5,766 17,086
1933 10.89 2.79 13.68 12,051 5,722 17,773
1934 12.57 2.97 15.54 14,662 6,271 20,933
1935 13.52 3.2 16.72 16,755 7,085 23,840
1936 14.35 3.46 17.81 18,752 8,064 26,816
1937 15.42 3.76 19.18 21,350 8,983 30,333
1938 16.39 3.97 20.36 23,754 9,864 33,618
Total Real Income (Corrected to 1929 Prices)
1929 23,339 7,649 30,988
1932 14,513 7,392 21,905
1938 28,968 12,029 40,997

Employment and Total Income of Employed Wage and Salary Earners Subject to Social Insurance, 1929-1938

The following is one non-Marxist estimate of the rate of return from Adam Tooze’s, The Wages of Destruction: The Making and Breaking of the Nazi Economy.4 It must serve as a very crude estimate for what we have called “net profitability.”

Using the informal ‘eyeball’ method, we find that the number of employed workers increases but that the wage increase never completely outstrips employment (output was at war-time highs) and is modest in comparison to the explosion in profitability. We, therefore, do not witness inflation.

After World War II, the pattern is reversed, and net-profitability does not sufficiently exceed the growth in wages. We can, therefore, explain the secular rise of the price-level-inflation.

The 1970s saw a collapse in net-profitability while increases in purchasing power through government expenditure and deficit-spending were the case. We can, therefore, expect both unemployment and inflation (i.e. stagflation).

This is obviously a problem for capitalism, as wages are the other side of profit, the drive for producing wealth. Such a situation is simply not sustainable and will in the long-term push the economy towards crisis.

Wrap-up of the game

Post-Keynesianism could not predict certain events, just as Monetarism was unable to give credit where it was due.

Post-Keynesianism was unable to foresee stagflation. They could not even admit its possible existence, and therefore were ill-adjusted to intervene and solve the real problem. This was, in many ways, the trigger for the structural instability of the Keynesian consensus in state and economy.

To simplify a long story, in part because of this failure, people like Milton Friedman were increasingly able to convince the ruling class that theirs was the best theory, primed to solve the problem. Since then, his philosophy has been king in state and economy.

Yet it cannot be denied that Post-Keynesianism was a part of the relative successes of the “Golden Age of Capitalism.” Monetarism would have predicted mass unemployment before the entry of such an economic strategy on the world stage. Instead, there was a recovery from the worst economic crisis in Western capitalism.

A theory is continuously tested by events. In this way, Post-Keynesianism and Monetarism have both been defeated. Why they should still be the only competitors is beyond me. The classical tradition is able to retrodict and put these events in their proper place. The events support the theory better than its competitors.

In brief: I accept the classical theory, its presupposition and models, because they are more realistic than either Post-Keynesianism or Monetarism.

MMT Today

Today, people are desperate to come up with fresh new ideas to rejuvenate a moribund capitalism.

MMT, or Modern Monetary Theory, has come out as a potential elixir.

I cannot do justice to this vast new philosophy, theory, and technology of statecraft and economic policy, but the main MMTers are essentially Post-Keynesians. MMT is now stretching beyond the confines of the academy, and I have heard that people such as Alexanria Ocasio-Cortez see it as a potential financier of the Green New Deal.

One of the main points of MMT is that fiscal and monetary policy should support the goals of full employment and tolerable inflation. In typical Post-Keynesian fashion, recession is explained by deficient effective demand. The level of effective demand can be raised through government deficits and the creation of liquidity. If the economy is exhibiting inflation, the solution is to retract money from circulation.

Of course, MMTers do not claim that inflation, or stagflation, is impossible; in fact, it is a very real possibility for them, but they believe it can be mitigated with fiscal and monetary policy.

Keynes asked of Hayek about his argument in The Road to Serfdom:

I come finally to what is really my only serious criticism of the book. You admit here and there that it is a question of knowing where to draw the line. You agree that the line has to be drawn somewhere (between free-enterprise and planning) and that the logical extreme is not possible. But you give us no guidance whatever as to where to draw it. In a sense this is shirking the practical issue. It is true that you and I would probably draw it in different places. I should guess that according to my ideas you greatly underestimate the practicability of the middle course. But as soon as you admit that the extreme is not possible and that a line has to be drawn, you are, on your own argument, done for since you are trying to persuade us that as soon as one moves an inch in the planned direction you are necessarily launched on the slippery path which will lead you in due course over the precipice.

The truth is that MMT could work, but in the same way, Keynesianism does, within limits.

MMT policy could trigger inflation under a number of conditions.

MMT policy could trigger stagflation if the recovery of net-profitability is not strong enough.

So I ask: When will MMT policy not trigger inflation or stagflation? Where do they draw the line? What are the sustainable limits of MMT?

I am sure MMTers have an answer to such questions, but the onus is on them to explain, in theory and historically, how their measures will not provoke similar consequences to the past. The onus is on them to show the effective limits of their theory and practice.