Create a Mass Party!

Cliff Connolly critiques CounterPower’s vision of the “party of autonomy” and offers an alternative vision of the mass party. 

In Praise of Communism by Ronald Paris, sourced from here.

The US left is at a critical juncture where the structure and focus of our organizations will soon be decided. On the one hand, we positively have ongoing processes of cohesion in play with DSA chapters collaborating on writing a national platform and far-flung sects coming together under the banner of Marxist Center. On the other hand, we have many comrades across ideological lines who still echo opposition to the idea of a tightly structured national organization. Central to this contradiction is the question of the party: should socialists strive to build an independent political party, and if so, what should that look like? CounterPower has put forth one possible answer in their article Create Two, Three, Many Parties of Autonomy! They are dedicated organizers and we should all be glad to have them in our midst. However, their strategy of eschewing the mass party model and encouraging the spontaneous formation of multiple “parties of autonomy”, and counting on these disparate groups to unite into an “area of the party”, is unworkable in the long term.

Their argument for the many parties strategy rests on a number of errorshistorical misrepresentation (no, CPUSA was not a party of autonomy), uncritical acceptance of failed models (Autonomia Operaia gives us more negative lessons than positive ones), an over-reliance on spontaneity (movements have to be built intentionally), an aversion to leadership (no, it doesn’t automatically create unaccountable bureaucracy), and a confusion of terms (putting anarchist and Marxist vocab words together does not solve the contradictions between them). We will explore each of these points in greater detail. There is also an implicit assumption of false dichotomies built into the many parties lineeither we build parties of autonomy or slip into sectarianism, either parties of autonomy or dogmatism, either parties of autonomy or top-down bureaucracy. There is a kernel of truth present here; we certainly don’t want a dictatorship of paid staffers. However, parties of autonomy are not a solution to this problem in some ways, they would exacerbate the problem.

This was initially written in response to CounterPower’s original essay in 2019, but has since been amended to include dialogue with the updated version published in 2020. The differences between the two are significant and raise new concerns about the many parties model. The most interesting addition in the update concerns the role of cadre highly trained organizers dedicated full-time to party activity. While we agree wholeheartedly on the necessity of these professional revolutionaries, there is a difference of emphasis that merits debate. This issue will be explored in greater detail below.

That CounterPower started this conversation on the party question is a gift to the whole of the US leftit must be addressed for our organizations to move forward. While many of us vehemently disagree with their conclusions, we should be grateful for their company. After examining each piece of their argument for the many parties model and taking note of its shortcomings, we will investigate a viable alternativea mass party of organizers built on the principles of struggle, pluralism, and democratic discipline. 

Historical Clarification

There are a number of historical errors throughout CounterPower’s article. By this we are not referring to a difference of opinion about a certain historical figure’s thought process or the motivations behind a particular decision, but rather factual inaccuracies. This in itself does not mean the thesis of the article is automatically false, but it does betray a dependency on unfounded assumptions. First, there is the assertion that the Russian soviets arose organically without being built by socialists, at which point the Bolsheviks joined them and worked harmoniously with other autonomous parties in this “area of the party” to link the soviets to other sites of struggle. Second, there is the quotation from Mao Zedong’s 1957 Hundred Flowers speech, which CounterPower uses to bolster their argument for parties of autonomy. Finally, we are led to believe that both the FAI and the Alabama chapter of the Communist Party USA are exemplars of the many parties model. 

We will begin with the relationship between the Bolsheviks and the soviets. Here is CounterPower’s characterization:

“The organized interventions of a revolutionary party thus take place ‘in the middle,’ as mediations between the micropolitical and macropolitical. This has been a distinguishing feature of successful revolutionary parties, as in the example of the Russian Revolution of 1917, when clusters of Bolshevik party activists concentrated in workplaces, recognizing that the participatory councils (soviets) emerging from grassroots proletarian struggles embodied the nucleus of an alternative social system. Thus the party’s organization at the point of production enabled revolutionaries first to link workplace struggles against exploitation with the struggle against imperialism, and then to link the emergent councils with the insurrectionary struggle to establish a system of territorial counterpower”.

On the contrary, it is of utmost importance to recognize that the soviets, factory committees, and militias that formed the backbone of the Russian revolution were built intentionally by socialists. While different factions in the Russian Social Democratic Workers’ Party eventually split into separate organizations as the Bolsheviks and Mensheviks, both groups were instrumental in the creation of these mass organizations. They did not emerge organically from economic struggles with bosses and feudal landlords like some of the trade unions and peasant associations, but instead were the product of a socialist intervention in economic struggles which emphasized the need for political organization. This strategy, commonly referred to as the “merger formula”, was theorized by Marx and Engels, popularized by the German socialist party leader Karl Kautsky, and accepted by Russian socialists of all stripes (most notably Lenin).1

The Bolsheviks did not merely help workers build their fighting organizations. They also competed with political rivals for leadership in them. Beyond their efforts that we would call “base-building” today, the Bolsheviks also invested significant resources into propaganda efforts and electoral contests. The struggle for elected majorities in the soviets in 1917 was pursued in tandem with a strategy of running campaigns for municipal offices and the Constituent Assembly (the bourgeois parliament of the Provisional Government), and it worked. The Bolshevik candidates for the assembly were able to publicly oppose the policies of the Provisional Government, while the elected deputies in the soviets were able to win over the working class to the task of seizing political power. These electoral efforts were instrumental in establishing a democratic mandate for the October Revolution.2 Consider these words from leading Bolshevik (and later leading opposition member purged by Stalin) Alexander Shliapnikov, in 1920:

The Russian Communist Party (RKP), as the history of the preceding years indicates, is the only revolutionary party of the Working Class, leading class war and civil war in the name of Communism. The R.K.P. unifying the more conscious and decisive part of the Proletariat around the Revolutionary Communist Program of action and drawing to the Communist banner the more leading elements of the rural poor, must concentrate all higher leadership of communist construction and the general direction of policy of the country.

Clearly, the Bolsheviks did not consider themselves a “party of autonomy” working side by side with the Menshevik reformists in a broad “area of the party”. Nor did they simply fuse with organic economic struggles in the trade unions. The reality couldn’t be further from CounterPower’s insinuations: the Bolsheviks were a party of political organizers who started as a minority and slowly won over sections of the working class through diligent mass work and bitter struggle with the other parties of the day. By engaging in this process, they eventually took on a mass character and became capable of leading social revolution. The lesson to learn from the Bolsheviks is this: we must win political hegemony in whatever independent organs of proletarian power that we help build, using every available means, including running opposition candidates in bourgeois elections to expose broader sections of the class to our ideas.

Now we will consider Mao’s echoing of the old Chinese proverb “Let a hundred flowers blossom, let a hundred schools of thought contend.” This line of poetry is used by CounterPower to demonstrate the need for dozens of independent communist grouplets to form and collaborate on the task of social revolution. They attribute the quote to Mao, but is this how he used it? The short answer is no. It comes from a speech he gave in March 1957 at the Chinese Communist Party’s National Conference on Propaganda Work. It is true that he called for a hundred schools of thought to contend, but this was in the context of winning unaligned intellectuals over to the party’s socialist ideals. He gave a thoughtful and nuanced analysis of how the party could accept criticism from the broader population without sacrificing their legitimacy as the ruling organization of the country:

Ours is a great Party, a glorious Party, a correct Party. This must be affirmed as a fact. But we still have shortcomings, and this, too, must be affirmed as a fact…Will it undermine our Party’s prestige if we criticize our own subjectivism, bureaucracy and sectarianism? I think not. On the contrary, it will serve to enhance the Party’s prestige. This was borne out by the rectification movement during the anti-Japanese war. It enhanced the prestige of our Party, of our Party comrades and our veteran cadres, and it also enabled the new cadres to make great progress. Which of the two was afraid of criticism, the Communist Party or the Kuomintang? The Kuomintang. It prohibited criticism, but that did not save it from final defeat. The Communist Party does not fear criticism because we are Marxists, the truth is on our side, and the basic masses, the workers and peasants, are on our side.

Clearly, in March 1957 Mao was concerned with building a mass party, not opening space for a loose collaboration between multiple parties aimed at building socialism. Unfortunately, the Chinese Communist Party was underprepared for the criticism they would soon face and reversed the Hundred Flowers Campaign. By July of that same year, the Anti-Rightist Campaign brought a series of purges underway, which got so out of control that Mao had to restrain his subordinates from excess killing. Perhaps Chinese conditions in 1957 were different enough from American conditions in 2020 that this was acceptable, or perhaps Mao the statesman should not be looked to for inspiration as much as Mao the general or Mao the revolutionary. It is beyond the purview of this article to answer that question. What is certain CounterPower draws the wrong lesson out of Mao’s 1957 speech.

Demonstration from the Hundred Flowers Movement

After quoting Mao, CounterPower moves on to claim that the Iberian Anarchist Federation (FAI) is in practice a party of autonomy working within the “area of the party” of Spain’s National Confederation of Labour (CNT). Although the idea of “parties of autonomy” was not formulated until forty years after FAI’s founding, there may be a kernel of truth to this claim. For example, if FAI formed a loose coalition with CNT organizers and worked with them on shared projects, this argument could make sense. The reality, however, is that FAI is essentially a hard-line anarchist faction within CNT that has consistently fought for political hegemony within the broader organization and even purged ideological rivals like Ángel Pestaña. Perhaps they were right to do so; it is outside the scope of this article to pass judgment on the internal political conflicts of the CNT. 

Despite CounterPower’s framing of the FAI as an independent anarcho-communist organization with an “organic link” to the CNT, they are an explicitly anarchist faction struggling to dominate the politics of the Spanish labor movement. They act as a pressure group within the confederation to make CNT adhere to what they perceive as purely anarchist theory and praxis without deviation. This is not a “symbiotic relationship”, it is realpolitik under a black flag. Roberto Bordiga’s window dressing cannot give us a clear understanding of Spanish labor politics; historians like José Peirats and Paul Preston would be better suited to aid this investigation. 

In the updated version of their essay, CounterPower cites the Alabama chapter of CPUSA as a historical example that serves to “elucidate the role and function of a party of autonomy”. This could not be further from the truth. Similar to the FAI, the party of autonomy model would not even be theorized until fifty years after the Alabama chapter’s founding. CPUSA was a mass party with local chapters all over the country for at least the first half of the twentieth century. The Alabama chapter in particular was the result of discussions on “the Negro question” at the Sixth World Congress of the Communist International, after which the Central Committee of CPUSA chose Birmingham as a headquarters for its foothold in the South.3 Its success in organizing rural and urban communities in the deep south of the 1920s is proof that the mass party model can be adapted to regional conditions and accountable to local rank and file members. Describing this centralized party model as a “party of autonomy” is categorically false.

Spontaneity vs. Base-Building

Now that the historical context of CounterPower’s narrative has been clarified, we should examine the contradiction between their ideological commitment to spontaneity theory on the one hand, and their practical commitment to base-building on the other. Does the working class organically form explicitly political fighting organizations, or is a socialist intervention required for this to occur? This is a never-ending debate between Marxists and anarchists, despite the pile of evidence pointing to the latter. Some would argue that this debate is pointless at the present moment, and these differences are best put aside until the workers’ movement has grown. We would reply: “First, comradely debate in no way hampers unity of action. We can continue base-building efforts while disagreeing on political questions, and it is only through debate that we might one day get on the same page. Second, simply by engaging in the act of base-building with us, you are agreeing with our point in practice while denying it in theory.” How is this possible?

Our comrades in CounterPower are the perfect example. They admit the masses will not come to accept communist ideas on their own:

From strike committees to workers’ councils, tenant unions to neighborhood assemblies, the disparate forms of organized autonomy that arise in the midst of a protracted revolutionary struggle will not automatically fuse with communist politics to create a cohesive system of counterpower.

Yet they don’t address where these councils and unions come from. The reader gets the sense that these organizations simply pop up during times of crisis, as workers get frustrated with bourgeois politics and independently come to the conclusion that they need to organize against their boss or landlord. This may be true in a minority of cases, but most proletarian fighting organizations come from the same source as the Russian soviets: dedicated socialist base-builders. Who built Amazonians United? Who built Autonomous Tenant Union Network? Who built UE, ILWU, and the original CIO? In every case, the answer is: workers and intellectuals who read Marx, became socialists, and decided to organize.

Our responsibilities go beyond just founding these mass organizations; we have to compete for hegemony within them as well. If we neglect this crucial aspect of organizing due to a fetishization of the autonomy of the masses, reformists and even reactionaries will gladly fill the gap. In the case of something like workers’ councils, we cannot have any illusions that they provide anything beyond a means of representation for political tendencies within the movement. This is precisely why the Bolsheviks competed so vigorously with the reformist Mensheviks and populist Social Revolutionaries for elected majorities in the soviets. In fact, the Bolsheviks only adopted their famous slogan “All Power to the Soviets” after they had secured elected majorities in them.4 We only need to look at the difference between the Soviet Republics established in Russia and the brutally crushed Soviet Republic of Bavaria to understand the limitations of the model. Without influence from committed revolutionaries, mass organizations can be rallied to the banner of class-collaboration (as the Russian soviets were before Bolshevik intervention) or adventurism (as in the case of Bavaria).5

CounterPower’s overestimation of proletarian spontaneity has practical consequences for its members. In his recent article In Defense of Revolution and the Insurrectionary Commune, Atlee McFellin analyzed the November 2020 election and drew parallels between it and the situation which produced the Paris Commune. Fearing that elections may never take place again, McFellin argued against any participation in electoral efforts (including, but not limited to the creation of a political party independent from the Democrats). What was proposed instead? “Self-defense forces, solidarity kitchens, and everything else that is required to repel fascist assaults”. In other words, anything but a class-independent party capable of coordinating the struggle for socialism across different political, economic, and social fronts. Rather than face the reality of the radical left’s current irrelevance in national politics and the labor movement, and chart a course to resolve this, comrade McFellin called for the construction of insurrectionary communes as a response to the consolidation of ruling class interests under Joe Biden. Whether the working class has the spontaneous energy necessary for this task remains to be seen;  if it does, we would be ill-advised to hold our breath in anticipation but should wince at the inevitable brutal consequences if such adventurism bears fruit.

While in theory, CounterPower glosses over the role of communists in building workers’ organizations, in practice they are engaged in precisely this work. Rather than relying on the spontaneous initiative of the masses, they actively build tenant and labor unions, political education circles, and other necessary vehicles of class struggle. In fact, they do it remarkably well. This is what makes the claim that communists must “fuse with grassroots organizations” after they appear rather than actively building them in the first place so bizarre. Ultimately, our task as communists is to build mass organizations of class struggle, and then rally the most active participants within them to a mass communist party. By uniting in one party, we can direct the efforts of thousands of organizers according to a commonly agreed upon plan, which is an absolute necessity for the workers’ movement to grow. 

The Role of Cadre

The discussion of cadre organizers is given new attention in CounterPower’s update to their original essay. It mostly focuses on the role these committed party members play in shaping revolutionary strategy and connecting it to active proletarian struggles. As seen in my Cosmonaut article Revolutionary Discipline and Sobriety, those of us who favor the mass party model are in complete agreement with CounterPower on the importance of cadre:

Any collective project, whether a revolutionary labor union or a church’s food pantry, will expect a higher degree of involvement from its core organizers than from its regular members. Not everyone has the time or the technical skills needed to bottom-line such endeavors, and those who do have a responsibility to step up to the plate. These small groups, or cadre, are the powerhouse of the class. Taking direction from the masses they live and labor with, cadre members should focus their lives on facilitating the self-emancipation of the proletariat.

CounterPower rightly points out that these dedicated full-timers are a prerequisite for the development of robust internal political education, external agitation, and consistent recruitment to mass work projects. Key to the every-day functioning of these cadre groups is the organizational center to which they are accountable (and preferably subject to democratic discipline by the whole membership of the organization). While the mass party shares the party of autonomy’s commitment to a common political platform and program, the main difference between the two models is one of scope. Whereas the “area of the party” is composed of diffuse autonomous organizations with separate and often contradictory programs, the local chapters of the mass party work together on a common, democratically agreed-upon plan. As the experience of the Alabama chapter of CPUSA shows, this does not mean the plan cannot be adapted to meet local concerns. 

CPUSA demo in the south

In fact, the mass party model historically proves more capable of achieving its aims than any other method of party organization, whether it is compared to the bourgeois fund-raising parties that dominate US politics or the Italian autonomist model revived by CounterPower. This will be elaborated below in our examination of the Autonomia Operaia movement. For now, suffice it to say that while we agree with our autonomist comrades on the importance of cadre, the mass party model is best suited to coordinate their efforts.

Precision of Terms

Further complicating the problems of CounterPower’s revolutionary strategy is an incoherent collection of opaque and often contradictory terms. Few throughout history have tried to synthesize the theories of the Bolsheviks, Rosa Luxemburg, Bordiga, and Malatesta, mostly because it makes no sense to do so. This blend of anarchist shibboleths (affinity groups, autonomy fetishism, Bookchin references) and communist vocabulary (party cadre, collective discipline, professional revolutionaries) is neither an oversight nor the product of genuine cross-ideological left unity. CounterPower is a Marxist organization with a niche ideology informed mainly by the experience of the Italian Autonomia Operaia movement. The fact that they mask this behind an appeal to every possible leftist tendency is frankly dishonest, and makes their writing difficult to follow. Since all these ideas have been presented to us as complementary and harmonious, we must investigate the contradictions between them in order to get a clearer picture. 

First, we should consider their framing of the ideas of Luxemburg:

In contrast to a bourgeois party, Rosa Luxemburg identified that a revolutionary party of autonomy ‘is not a party that wants to rise to power over the mass of workers or through them.’ Rather, it ‘is only the most conscious, purposeful part of the proletariat, which points the entire broad mass of the working class toward its historical tasks at every step”

The primary issue with this framing is that Rosa Luxemburg did not write or speak about “a revolutionary party of autonomy” at any point in her political career. She was a member of the Social Democratic Party of Germany (SPD) for most of her life before its left-wing split into the USPD and then Spartacist League (later renamed the Communist Party of Germany, or KPD). Both organizations were mass parties who explicitly intended to lead the working class to overthrow the existing political order and form a new proletarian government in Germany, headed by elected party officials. Her point about the party being an instrument that puts the working class in power was perfectly in line with the existing Marxist orthodoxy. Consider this quote from the SPD’s leading theorist Karl Kautsky for comparison:

The socialists no longer have the task of freely inventing a new society but rather uncovering its elements in existing society. No more do they have to bring salvation from its misery to the proletariat from above, but rather they have to support its class struggle through increasing its insight and promoting its economic and political organizations and in so doing bring about as quickly as possible the day when the proletariat will be able to save itself. The task of Social Democracy is to make the class struggle of the proletariat aware of its aim and capable of choosing the best means to attain this aim.6

Luxemburg and Kautsky both demonstrate the function of the mass party: cohering the most militant and forward-thinking section of the working class into one organization and giving it the tools to win political power. If the party is not “outside or above the revolutionary process”, as CounterPower puts it, then it is coming to power through class leadership. “Providing the boldest elements in decision-making organs” is just a milder way of phrasing “winning political hegemony in the movement.” While it is right to be skeptical of potential opportunists and wary of inadvertently creating an unaccountable bureaucracy, CounterPower overcorrects by trying to avoid the question of leadership altogether. No amount of out-of-context quotes from historical revolutionaries can paper over that deficiency. 

After painting an anarchist portrait of Rosa Luxemburg, CounterPower then calls upon the theoretical authority of actual anarchist Errico Malatesta:

We anarchists can all say that we are of the same party, if by the word ‘party’ we mean all who are on the same side, that is, who share the same general aspirations and who, in one way or another, struggle for the same ends against common adversaries and enemies. But this does not mean it is possibleor even desirablefor all of us to be gathered into one specific association. There are too many differences of environment and conditions of struggle; too many possible ways of action to choose among, and also too many differences of temperament and personal incompatibilities for a General Union, if taken seriously, not to become, instead of a means for coordinating and reviewing the efforts of all, an obstacle to individual activity and perhaps also a cause of more bitter internal strife.7

This is a markedly different approach to organization from the mass party model of Kautsky, Luxemburg, Lenin, et al. It is certainly more in line with the autonomists’ “area of the party” theory, but are the assumptions it is based on sound? The experience of the Bolshevik party securing state power and defending the proletariat from white terror, the Communist Party of Vietnam’s triumph over colonialism, the continued resistance to neoliberal imperialism in Cuba, and other achievements of the mass party model seem to indicate otherwise. Petty personal disputes and geographic distance are no excuse to abandon unified efforts to build socialism. If we take a scientific approach and compare the results of party-building trials throughout history to the results of those like Malatesta who deny the party’s role, the pattern is self-evident. 

Lessons of History

CounterPower’s essay does an excellent job of considering the experiences of a vast number of different historical communist groups. Unfortunately, they do so without an ounce of reflection or criticism. They ask us to look at rival groups with opposing political strategies and conclude that both were right, regardless of whether either group actually achieved its aims. They mention the experience of many parties and movementsthe KAPD in Germany, Autonomia Operaia in Italy, the MIR in Chile, the FMLN-FDR in El Salvador, the URNG in Guatemala, the HBDH in Turkey and Kurdistan, and more. We’re given the impression that each of these groups consciously agreed with the autonomists’ many parties model, and that each of these groups were successful enough to teach us mainly positive lessons to emulate. Upon closer inspection, it turns out this is not at all the case. For the sake of brevity, we will look at three examples.

Let us begin with the Communist Workers’ Party of Germany (KAPD). This party could be accurately described as a sect based on its low membership, extreme sectarianism, and history of splits. Its complicated lineage is as followsits members began in the SPD, then split into the ISD, which then joined the USPD, which then split into the KPD, and then finally split from there into the left-communist KAPD. It functionally existed for about two years before splitting again into separate factions. It was quite literally a split of a split of a split that ended up splitting. It had around 43,000 members at its height in 1921, which was minuscule compared to the hundreds of thousands of workers in the mass parties (and that number immediately declined after the factional split in 1922). 

The roots of the KAPD’s separation from the KPD lie in the events of the Ruhr Uprising. In 1920, a right-wing coalition of military officers and monarchists attempted to overthrow the bourgeois-democratic government of Germany. In response, the government called for a general strike, which the workers’ parties heeded. In the Ruhr valley, these parties took the strike a step further by forming Red Army units and engaging right-wing forces in open combat. However, these socialist militias were divided between three different parties and could not coordinate their efforts as well as their enemies who had the benefit of a clear leadership structure. The uprising was ultimately crushed when the bourgeois government made a deal with the right-wing putsch leaders and sent their forces to slaughter the workers of the Ruhr. 

What lessons did the left-communists learn from this? From their perspective, KPD leaders had given up on the struggle by agreeing to disband Red Army units after the fighting looked to be in the enemy’s favor. Because of this, a split was necessary so the workers could be led by the true communist militants that would see things through to the end. In other words, the already divided proletariat needed a fourth party to further complicate the coordination of future actions. Two years later, this fourth party would then split into two factions. Lenin had this to say about the KAPD:

Let the ‘Lefts’ put themselves to a practical test on a national and international scale. Let them try to prepare for (and then implement) the dictatorship of the proletariat, without a rigorously centralised party with iron discipline, without the ability to become masters of every sphere, every branch, and every variety of political and cultural work. Practical experience will soon teach them.8

Unfortunately, Lenin was overly optimistic. Rather than having time to learn from their mistakes, the divided forces of the working class were brutally crushed by the united forces of the right. The Nazis rose to power, and fascism reigned until the Soviets took Berlin in 1945. This does not mean there is nothing we can learn from the KAPDquite the opposite is true. There may be some diamonds in the rough, but most of the lessons we can learn from the left-communists of Germany are examples of what not to do. Fortunately, in the updated version of their essay, CounterPower scrubbed any mention of the KAPD. Whether this was due to a genuine reassessment of their example or simple editorial limitations, the new version is much stronger without the ill-fated German sectarians. 

Despite their positive appraisal of the KAPD, CounterPower is not a left-communist sect. They are autonomists, and in order to understand their answer to the party question we must take stock of their movement forebears. Autonomia Operaia was a workers’ movement in Italy during the period known as the “Years of Lead”. This period lasted from the late 1960s to the late 1980s, and was marked by violent clashes between right and left-wing paramilitary forces. It is worth noting that much of this violence was either planned, supplied, or encouraged by the CIA and its “Operation Gladio”, although that is not relevant to our discussion here. Autonomia Operaia was mainly active from ‘76 to ‘78, and was made up of many smaller socialist groups including Potere Operaio, Gruppo Gramsci, and Lotta Continua. Each group was strongly opposed to unifying into one party, preferring instead to maintain their autonomy and pursue different tactics to work towards their shared goal of social revolution. 

Autonomia Operaia demo

In the end, this worked out in much the same way as it did for the sectarians in Germany decades earlier. Thousands of militants were arrested, hundreds fled the country, many were killed, and most of those who remained dissolved into terrorist groups like the Red Brigades and parliamentary parties like Democrazia Proletaria. Neither the autonomist terrorists nor the autonomist politicians were able to move beyond the failures of the earlier autonomist movement. In retrospect, the autonomists ended up replicating the sect form (albeit with some anarchist-influenced language) and suffered the familiar consequences of this organizing technique. It is worth noting that after misappropriating numerous mass parties (the Alabama chapter of CPUSA, the Bolsheviks, Rosa Luxemburg’s KPD) as successful examples of the “parties of autonomy” model, CounterPower leaves out any mention of Autonomia Operaia in the updated version of its essay. This is somewhat understandable as the movement collapsed within two years and failed to achieve its aims, but it is still dishonest. If failures are glossed over rather than rigorously examined, we are doomed to walk blindly into past mistakes. In this regard, CounterPower’s update to their essay does more to obfuscate the party question than answer it.

That said, Autonomia Operaia activists had valid criticisms of the Communist Party of Italy and could have created an alternative to lead the proletariat to victory. This is the positive lesson we can learn from them: when the “official” communist party of the nation abandons its principles, it can sometimes be worthwhile to build an alternative organization. However, they chose instead to create a loose collective of semi-aligned communist clusters which failed to coordinate their actions and create meaningful change. Had they taken on the arduous task of debating long-term strategy and forging programmatic unity, things may have turned out differently. This is the primary lesson we should learn from the Italian autonomists: a proletarian victory requires structure, democratic discipline, and unity of action. 

Although not directly influenced by Autonomia’s answer to the party question, the FMLN-FDR of El Salvador could be theorized as an example of an “area of the party”. As CounterPower pointed out in their essay, this network was composed of five revolutionary parties and a number of mass organizations and civil society institutions who worked together in loose cooperation towards revolution. It ultimately failed, and CounterPower makes two interesting claims about its dissolution: that the failure was due primarily to the popular front reformism of the PCS (one of the five member parties) and that its downfall does not tarnish its status as a positive example of the area of the party in action. These claims do not fare well under the spotlight of historical scrutiny, particularly when shined on the brutal internecine violence that destroyed any semblance of unity within the movement by 1983. 

CounterPower’s assessment of the FMLN identifies the PCS (Communist Party of El Salvador) as the weakest link in the chain, and the FPL (Farabundo Martí Liberation People’s Forces) as the strongest. In many ways, this is true, as the popular front strategy of the official communist parties has consistently ended in disaster the world over and the FPL was the most powerful and trusted party in El Salvador for a time. However, this is not the whole picture. Genuine political disagreements were often buried or papered over to maintain an artificial unity, and the ensuing tension was bound to boil over. While our autonomist comrades say the FMLN established a harmonious “mechanism of communication, coordination, and cooperation among the various politico-military organizations”, the reality is far grimmer. In its disagreement with other parties advocating negotiations with the Salvadoran government, the FPL resorted to gruesome assassinations to enforce its will on the rest of the FMLN. In April of 1983, FPL cadre Rogelio Bazzaglia murdered pro-negotiation leader Ana Maria with an ice pick, stabbing her 83 times. Although there was an attempt to blame the CIA or another party within FMLN, when presented concrete evidence of Bazzaglia’s guilt, FPL leader Salvador Cayetano Carpio promptly wrote a suicide note and shot himself in the head. With its most trusted leaders either disgraced, dead, or both, the FMLN lost steam after many members left the network in disgust. Along with this exodus of valuable cadre went all the legitimacy of the anti-negotiation faction, and so by 1989 even successful military offensives could do nothing more than bring the Salvadoran government to the negotiation table.9 The revolutionary potential of the FMLN died with Ana Maria, and her murder demonstrates how the “area of the party” approach only ends up recreating the problems of the sect form.

The Marxist Center

The US communist movement is essentially home to three different camps regarding the party question. Those who wish to see the movement divided into bureaucratic sects (with the belief that their particular sect is the One True Party) are on the right. Those who wish to see the movement divided into loosely aligned autonomist sects (with the beliefs outlined in CounterPower’s writing) are on the left. Those of us in the center are advocating a qualitative break with the sect form: the foundation of a mass party of organizers. This idea is often associated with a number of inaccurate claimsfor instance, we are frequently lumped in with those who wish to replicate the worst aspects of the DSA model, where anyone can join the organization at any time for any reason without even committing to Marxist politics. We are also often accused of wanting to create a dogmatic bureaucracy of staunch Marxist-Leninists who will run the party as they see fit without input from membership. Neither of these claims are true.

In fact, what we desire is a party made and run by the masses themselves. Years of labor-intensive organizing will be necessary to make this happen, as the masses cannot be reached and welcomed into the socialist movement any other way. Tenant and workplace unions, unemployed councils, harm reduction efforts, solidarity networks, and other forms of “mass organizations” (in addition to independent electoral efforts) must be formed and rallied around a common political pole. In order for this pole to exist in the first place, the organizers engaged in mass work must debate and discuss until they articulate and agree on a comprehensive political program. In order for these debates and discussions to produce a clear program, the organizers have to see themselves as part of a common organization aimed at a shared goal. When each of these elements fall into place, something completely unique to the US left will be born: a mass party committed to praxis, programmatic unity, and democratic discipline.

By praxis, we understand a long-term commitment to building, growing, and maintaining the kinds of mass organizations detailed above. By programmatic unity, we mean collective acceptance of a comprehensive set of answers to long-term strategic questions, forged in an extended process of comradely debate and compromise. Ideally, this would take the form of a minimum-maximum program like those laid out and critiqued by Marx, Engels, and others in the first two Internationals.10 The minimum demands are structural reforms that communicate to the working class exactly how our efforts will improve their lives and empower them at the political level. Demands like guaranteed healthcare and housing, eliminating the Electoral College, Senate, and Supreme Court, disbanding the police and forming workers’ militias, ensuring union representation, and more would bring supporters into the fold and give us access to valuable comrades and organizers. They are chosen in such a way that when every demand is met, the proletariat has seized political power from the bourgeoisie and becomes the governing class of society. 

With this done, the new workers’ government can focus on fulfilling the maximum demands, epitomized as communism, which would eradicate the last vestiges of capitalism and transition to a socialist mode of production. Establishing unity on long-term questions of strategy is far superior to enforcing a “party-line” on day-to-day issues and theoretical minutiae. It allows us to collaborate and exert the greatest possible combined strength of the working class in its diverse struggles without splitting over short-term tactical disagreements like “should we partner with this NGO on this tenant organizing project?” or subcultural arguments like “who was in the wrong at Kronstadt?” It also does not require agreement on “tendency” labels (such as Marxist-Leninist, anarchist, left-communist, etc). As our organizations grow, the need for a commonly accepted program will only increase. Finally, by democratic discipline, we refer to the old axiom “diversity of opinion, unity of action”.

These three principles are absolutely essential for the functioning of an effective and battle-ready proletarian party. As we have seen, the organizational forms of sectarians and autonomists (like the KAPD and Autonomia Operaia respectively) crumble under pressure whereas mass parties regularly weather brutal repression. No better example of this can be found in US history than that of the Alabama chapter of the CPUSA:

The fact is, the CP and its auxiliaries in Alabama did have a considerable following, some of whom devoured Marxist literature and dreamed of a socialist world. But to be a Communist, an ILD member, or an SCU militant was to face the possibility of imprisonment, beatings, kidnapping, and even death. And yet the Party survived, and at times thrived, in this thoroughly racist, racially divided, and repressive social world.11

While other cases of this phenomenon (the Russian Communist Party, the Chinese Communist Party, and others) have been historically prone to corruption, preventative measures can be taken to ensure the party retains its mass character even after smashing the state and beginning socialist reconstruction. The most immediate step in this process is the collaborative drafting of and universal agreement on a party-wide Code of Conduct. This will facilitate the development of a comradely culture that balances rigorous critique and debate with an environment of pluralism and interpersonal care. In addition to understanding how to have a one-on-one organizing conversation, we should also strive to be well-versed in skills like listening, openly sharing feelings, assuming good faith in arguments, making sincere apologies, and offering support to comrades struggling with personal issues. None of these can be learned by accident in the alienated social spaces created by capitalism, so we must make a deliberate effort to establish these norms in our organization. 

Another would be taking seriously the moral dimensions of Fidelismo’s contribution to Marxism. In stark contrast with both Stalin’s iron fist and Allende’s naive pacifism, Fidel Castro’s leadership of the Cuban revolution combined violent insurrection against the state with peaceful political maneuvering in the revolutionary movement. Over the course of protracted struggle on both fronts, the July 26th Movement was able to defeat the state militarily and construct a democratic mandate for political hegemony. Because Fidel and his comrades took the ethical implications of revolutionary struggle seriously, they were able to achieve victory without recourse to war crimes against the enemy or lethal violence against political competitors within the movement.12 This commitment to moral conduct during violent struggle did not stop them from winning the war. In fact, it allowed them to win the peace. This strategy allowed Cuba to begin building socialism after national liberation without the deadly internecine conflicts that plagued other revolutionary movements (notably including the FMLN). It is crucial that we embrace this legacy by constructing an ethic of revolution for our time. More steps beyond these will of course be necessary, and their exact nature will become clear as we work towards the realization of a comradely culture together.

Perhaps the strongest indicator of the need for a mass party is the fact that the most advanced sections of the US labor movement are already calling for the establishment of a workers’ party. In its recent pamphlet Them and Us Unionism, United Electrical, Radio and Machine Workers of America (UE) wrote:

Throughout our history, UE has held that workers need our own political party. In the 1990s, UE worked with a number of other unions to found the Labor Party, under the slogan ‘The Bosses Have Two Parties, We Need One of Our Own.’ Although the Labor Party experiment was ultimately unsuccessful, UE members and locals have been active in numerous other efforts to promote independent, pro-worker alternatives to the two major parties.13

Other labor unions like ILWU and the Teamsters have produced leading organizers who share UE’s commitment to independent worker politics. People like Clarence Thomas, who helped organize the Juneteenth port shutdown on the West Coast earlier this year in solidarity with the George Floyd uprising, Chris Silvera, who chairs the National Black Caucus in the Teamsters, and many more can be found among them. These influential voices of the labor movement have united in Labor and Community for an Independent Party, stating:

We must build democratically run coalitions that bring together the stakeholders in labor and the communities of the oppressed, so that they have a decisive say in formulating their demands and mapping out a strategy. Most important, we need to put an end to the monopoly of political power by the Democrats and Republicans. The labor movement and the leaders of the Latino and Black struggles need to break with their reliance on the Democratic Party and build their own mass-based independent working-class political party.

While it is certainly possible that these efforts could lead to the establishment of a reformist labor party, it is precisely this possibility that behooves us to get involved. Any union that recognizes the need for independent proletarian political action outside the shop floor can be considered “advanced” compared to business unions aligned with the Democratic Party, and relationships with them should be built as part of a communist intervention in the labor movement. As Marxists, we have a duty not only to organize our class but to bring theoretical clarity to its most active champions. If we continue building strong proletarian fighting organizations and elaborate our vision in a comprehensive program, we will be positioned to guide labor and community leaders of all stripes to the creation of a truly communist political party.

Ultimately, the disparate sects within Marxist Center and the local chapters of the DSA must form tighter bonds and consider internal reforms that would allow us to build the party our class requires. In doing so, we should seek to unite as many far-flung collectives and mass work projects as we can in order to become a true threat to bourgeois hegemony. While staying divided in a loose federation may seem like a viable model to some, history shows that it is not. The autonomists and anarchists in our ranks are dedicated organizers doing valuable work, and we should be grateful for that. However, we would be doing ourselves and them a disservice if we did not offer a comradely critique of their organizational models. 

Communists will always find strength in unity.

Party and Subject: A Reply to Donald Parkinson

Taylor B continues the debate on political subjectivity, revolutionary strategy and the party-form, responding to Donald Parkinson’s Without a Party, We Have Nothing

The Civil Rights movement: a political sequence without the party.

When replying to criticism, I think it is best to put all of one’s cards on the table. In August of last year, millions were in the streets and two Marxist caucuses in DSA were discussing how to advance the emancipatory struggle. In my view, the problem with this discussion was the way in which something called a “worker’s party” was posed as an obvious answer to the “movementism” around the world that seems incapable of destroying the current order that can be broadly characterized by vicious capitalist exploitation, ecological destruction, and mass depoliticization. 

Far from this discussion producing any concrete proposal for a party, the most insightful contribution seemed to come from one Red Star comrade who expressed caution in approaching the party: that we should not confuse electoral proceduralism for how to organize in a way that helps bring working class people into confrontation with the capitalist class. Rather than focus on what the party should look like in the abstract, we should organize the base of the worker’s party and promote revolutionary political education. Out of this organizing, an actual party strategy would emerge.1

I could not help but ask questions that had not been posed. If the most sensible way to go about building a party is to break with liberal political conceptions and organize and educate others to build a form of organization that we cannot define in advance, then why insist on the idea for a party at all? When millions are pouring into the streets to protest police violence and defend Black lives, is the notion of a “worker’s” party–a term that seems completely foreign to what seems to have been the largest popular mobilization in history–adequate to the moment? Is what seems to be an orthodox Marxist position on the centrality of the party to the communist movement actually an obstacle to a clear assessment of our moment? Why is it that a real movement against the present state of things always seems to be located in the future? And why does insisting on the party, even when it seems to raise many more questions than answers, automatically appear as a concrete answer to the “movementism” that we all agree must be overcome?

So I wrote an essay that tried to grapple with some of these questions.2 I argued against imposing historical organizational forms on present movements, but more importantly, I attempted to think about politics in a way that could explain the complexity of the current movements by evaluating them on their own terms. This led to some adventurous and controversial statements: that in addition to the party-form creating problems for emancipatory movements, the resurgent “socialist” movement seems to be dominated by those who have no interest in abolishing the capitalist mode of production; that certain elements of a “spontaneous” anti-racist movement seem to have a better instinct for opposing the police and the state than those who are interested in Lenin. Ultimately, I suggested that the radical elements of these movements need to find ways to organize together: I pointed to an example of the Juneteenth demonstration in Oakland that was organized by two DSA chapters and the ILWU that seemed to show these movements already doing so. And I posed more questions to suggest more concrete organizing directions that we could take up going forward.

While I was able to have some helpful and clarifying discussions with comrades inside and outside of DSA–some seem to feel that I have not made a sufficient, concrete proposal for how to advance our movement without reference to the party–Donald Parkinson has so far presented the most impassioned criticisms.3 As he writes at the end of his reply: “One thing is for sure – without a party, we have nothing. Because without a party, there is no ‘we’.”

I think we must point out the contradiction in this line that makes it impossible for it to be a clear prescription. I do not think this is a simple error on Parkinson’s part, but a constitutive contradiction that is consistent with the current party discourse. In order to say that “we” have no “we,” Parkinson presupposes a “we.” In other words, to produce a collective subject, there must be a foundational subject that Parkinson does not, and would seem he cannot, account for.

Let’s read Parkinson’s claim more closely. I believe we are caught between two ways of interpreting it. First, taking this statement at its word, we are left with a claim that reduces all of the real organization of “assemblies, affinity groups, and even new nonprofits as initiatives from activists,” along with organizations like Cosmonaut, Red Star, and the whole of DSA, to the situation of powerless, atomized individuals. The lack of a party formed through an articulated common program puts us in a kind of solipsism. 

Second, if we strip away the rhetoric, we get a claim that without a party, there is no emancipatory subject. In other words, there is no collective agent that is capable of opposing and overturning the existing society. While this second interpretation does not reduce existing organizations to atomized individuals, it deems it insufficient for emancipatory politics. The various existing groups and organizations fail to constitute a real opposition to the existing order because–and this is where Parkinson advances a very particular notion of the party based on a particular reading of Marx, Katusky, and Lenin–only a party with a common, articulated program has that power. Thus, for Parkinson, the party is an invariant model of politics, rather than a historical one. Short of this particular version of the party that Parkinson advocates, all our various collective efforts amount to nothing.4

I think the second interpretation is the more productive starting point, though I find it difficult to completely ignore the first. I see both agreement and disagreement with Parkinson. We both seem to agree that the construction of a political subject – which is composed of individual militants and yet goes beyond them – is a requirement for emancipatory politics. We both seem to agree that communism is an emancipatory politics and that any politics that falls short of communism will always be inadequate. While Parkinson has not stated this himself, I believe we both agree that there is no universal organized referent for emancipatory politics currently in existence. The question, as always, is what must be done about this. 

While Parkinson seems to have aligned himself with Red Star against my position, I do not think Parkinson’s position on the party is necessarily one that Red Star and Emerge would automatically agree with. Why? Because while Red Star and Emerge were having an exploratory conversation, Parkinson seems to already have a set idea of the party being a “state within a state,” etc. I think this strengthens my argument that the party is a term that creates more problems than it solves: without a clear formulation, the party appears as an empty signifier. With a clear, articulated formulation, the party may produce more fragmentation than consolidation. This last point seems to be supported by the fact that an endless number of small groups of militants have not only proclaimed the need for, but also formed parties, and we have moved no closer to emancipation.

This brings us to the disagreement between Parkinson and myself. Parkinson believes the problem of the subject–the lack of a collective organization with the capacity to oppose and overturn the existing society–is resolved solely through the party-form. Meanwhile, I have argued that the party-form is an obstacle to the formation of the subject in our current moment. My position is ultimately untenable. Why? Because this position cannot effectively respond to all the different things people mean when talking about the party.5 So to reformulate my position, I reject Parkinson’s concept of the party as an invariant model of politics. I reject other suggestions that the Soviet or Chinese party-states are emancipatory models that we must reproduce or emulate. To those engaging in exploratory discussions of the party, I would simply question what utility a term like ‘the party’ has if you do not have a fixed idea in mind for what you are building. Doesn’t invoking the party and attempting to take inspiration from past organizations like CPUSA simply invite confusion that we then have to continually caution against, as one Red Star comrade pointed out? Doesn’t the party end up being a future idea for overturning capitalist society, rather than a concrete step in the current moment?

If we know there is all sorts of historical baggage that comes with discussing the party, is it actually controversial to try and think of an alternative to theorizing politics and its organization? It is certainly true that if something isn’t broken, you shouldn’t fix it. But isn’t it clear that something is wrong with the party as a concept, since, despite all of our agreement that we need a revolutionary organization of workers to overthrow the few who would kill us before ever allowing us to decide for ourselves how we should live, that there is no revolutionary party or masses anywhere to be found? And shouldn’t we have an answer to this question that does not depend on a few intellectuals making claims about the development of working people’s consciousness?

Now I will attempt to clarify certain aspects of my position, and also advance some new arguments based on the discussions around my original article. I will respond to Parkinson’s alleged refutation of Sylvain Lazarus, a theorist whose dense but crucial insights should be more widely read and formed a fundamental element of my argument. Finally, I will argue the recent emergence of the Partisan project, a joint publication between San Francisco’s Red Star, NYC’s Emerge, Portland’s Red Caucus, and the Communist Caucus, should be seen as an extremely encouraging step toward the formation of a consolidated Marxist bloc with DSA that can serve as an important site of discussion, study, and experimentation to advance the emancipatory struggle of communism.

Beginnings

According to Parkinson’s summary of my argument in the second and third paragraphs of his response, one of my fundamental claims is that the DSA and the George Floyd uprising are evidence that politics has been “born.” I believe this point indicates a certain misunderstanding: I did not use the terms “birth” or “born” a single time in my “Beginnings” piece. Meanwhile, the term I used 23 times if we include the very first word of my title–beginnings–does not occur at all in Parkinson’s response. Even the less specialized term “beginning”–which combined with “beginnings” occurs 48 times in my essay does not appear at all in Parkinson’s response.

I assume the swapping of these terms is not in reference to something I am unaware of that is important to Parkinsons’ argument, such as a particular dispute in Comintern history, a passage from Pannekoek’s diary, etc. I assume that if Parkinson found my notion of “beginnings” unhelpful or wrong, then he would have demonstrated this through a critique of the concept. But that did not happen. Instead, we have two occurrences of the phrase “birth of politics” in consecutive paragraphs in Parkinson’s reply. We have the claims that I was “heralding a new creative process that will break from all the old muck of the past and create new forms of organization” and insisting that we “declare our fidelity to the spontaneous energies of the event, to see where it goes and what it creates rather than trying to impose our own ideas upon it.” 

My point was just the opposite. As someone who is a member of DSA and participated in demonstrations, I attempted to combat idealism and pose questions from within these movements to pursue an emancipatory politics. If this was not apparent to Parkinson, I believe it is because he produces a binary of tailing spontaneity and applying a pre-existing model. This binary suggests that Parkinson, despite his insistence that Marxists should join DSA and sympathy with combatting racist police violence, does not necessarily see himself as part of these movements. Thus, his criticism comes from the outside, and so must my intervention. But this is not my position in regard to these movements, nor am I thinking from within the same binary. I am instead proposing that there is a need for organization and prescription that does not occur “spontaneously,” but also does not consist in the application of a pre-existing model. I am suggesting that members of DSA and those who took to the streets must take it upon ourselves to organize in a better way to oppose the existing, global capitalist order.

I called Occupy, Ferguson, DSA’s growth by way of the Sanders’ campaigns, and the George Floyd uprising “beginnings” because these are real formations that break the pattern of “depoliticized atomization,” to use Salar Mohandesi’s phrase, yet have not produced a political sequence.6 They are not nothing, but they fall short of politics. In contrast, the metaphor of birth and whatever its variations – stillborn, miscarraige, premature, etc. – has entirely different connotations. This gendered and strangely graphic kind of metaphoric language does not grasp the dynamism and lack of definitive origins of the formations I discussed. Even when I claimed that Sanders was in part responsible for setting off a beginning, I tried to show that what was key was not Sanders, but all the thinking that emerged in response to Sanders that disrupted depoliticized atomization.

The basis of my intervention was to say that if these beginnings are to produce political subjectivity, then they must overcome the internal and external forces that seek to neutralize them. I attempted to assess the real conditions of these movements–the balance of emancipatory potential and real neutralizing forces within and outside them–precisely to identify lines that we must fight and organize along so that effective ideas and practices can be produced from within, and thus transform, these formations. That is why I have criticized liberals who say we need to reform the police and run progressive politicians, along with the socialists who reduce riots to emotional outbursts and sometimes fall into a kind of idealist thinking that says we just have to do what the Bolsheviks did. If I did not distance myself from ultra-left positions that say sabotaging trains and looting Targets is the path to emancipation, it is only because I do not take these positions seriously and see very few people advancing them.

The language of beginnings, then, is distinct and fundamental to my approach. By suggesting that the DSA and the uprisings are beginnings, I intended to show that real breaks occurred in the thought of people. How else do we account for people suddenly going from a state of atomized depoliticization to spending an inordinate amount of time on Zoom calls discussing bylaws, or braving crowded streets in a pandemic to demand the end to police killings? Thus, a beginning must break with the neutralizing order. But on its own, this break is not sufficient to constitute an emancipatory sequence due to complex and varied forces of neutralization that maintain the current order. In other words, a foothold is necessary to free climb a mountain; but a foothold does not eliminate the problem of gravity.

So in the schema I produced in the “Beginnings” article, there are two breaks. There is the break from neutralization to beginnings, and the break from beginnings to politics. Since politics is rare and sequential, a new subjective invention that begins and ends, then my claim is that beginnings must be common and chaotic. Beginnings spark, die out, and spark again. Beginnings fundamentally have something to do with the ever-present potential for politics that occurs in the thought of people who are exploited and oppressed that sometimes leads them to organize themselves with others to fight those who dominate them. Unfortunately, it is the categorical limit of beginnings to almost always fail.

Beginning Again

While it seems true that beginnings can be neutralized in the ways I discussed in my article, it seems unlikely that I can maintain the position that neutralization precedes beginnings. The question of going from nothing to something is ultimately a metaphysical or theological question and does not interest me much. Clearly the world, short of emancipation and parties, is not nothing; I don’t believe anyone is claiming otherwise. But we still must be able to account for what occurs between emancipatory sequences. I have proposed beginnings. But then how do we account for beginnings?

To try and resolve the problem of beginnings, I will introduce an idea that I have derived from one of Alain Badiou’s incomparable diagrams. This is the notion of an ordering regime. The ordering regime is the something that precedes a beginning. And the ordering regime is what exists at the close of an emancipatory sequence. To maintain order, to keep everyone in their given places, it must engage in dynamic processes of neutralization. I think that is sufficient for now.

I believe there are four questions that must be addressed to continue clarifying this debate.

First, why is it necessary to talk about this conceptual dynamic between beginnings and neutralization, which appear to speak generically about politics in terms which aren’t contained in the Marxist canon? Why not just talk about class struggle? It is necessary because political sequences are rare, and they do not always have to do with class struggle. The rarity of emancipatory sequences, the rarity of politics, emerges in subjective thought. It is through an event that is irreducible to the present regime or order, or ordering regime, that the subjective thought of politics has the potential to erupt into thought. Sometimes this produces a sustained emancipatory sequence. Ordering regimes attempt to neutralize this movement; this sometimes forces a major re-ordering. The complicated dynamics of the ruling class, itself the condensation of many bourgeois interests, is one general historical example of an ordering regime. Fundamentally, politics is about people breaking from the places assigned to them by an ordering regime. It is in this sense that we can understand Badiou, when thinking in reference to the situation in 1968, he asks: 

What would a political practice that was not willing to keep everyone in their place look like?…What inspired us was the conviction that we had to do away with places. That is what is meant, in the most general sense, by the word ‘communism’: an egalitarian society which, acting under its own impetus, brings down walls and barriers; a polyvalent society, with variable trajectories, both at work and in our lives. But ‘communism’ also means forms of political organization that are not modelled on spatial hierarchies.7

Second, what is emancipatory politics? Emancipatory politics is the name of the rare, subjective thought in the minds of people that prescribes the correct forms of organization to destroy “the places” of a given ordering regime in a movement toward the absolutely free and egalitarian association of all people. The common name for universal emancipatory politics is communism: it is the real movement against the present state of things. We might say that emancipation is not a state of affairs to be realized, but a project without end predicated on subjective thought: it fundamentally has something to do with the power to decide.

Third, why are emancipatory sequences rare? Politics must begin in thought as a relation of real circumstances. I want to be explicit here: I am not talking about thought in idealist terms. I am thinking of thought in the same way Lenin uses theory in his famous statement that without revolutionary theory, there is no revolutionary movement. My point is to detach thought from theory. Theory is essentially a systematized way of thinking. Thought must be fundamental to the existence of theory, though without the supposed guarantees of a particular revolutionary theory. If we understand “emancipation” to have a broader meaning than particular Marxists theories of revolution–with emancipation serving as a common category to think sequences as different as the Hatian Revolution and the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution–then “thought” is the broader common category that links Marxist theories with the different but still correct ideas of the Haitian Revolution. 

How can we support this claim? We can say that while Marxist theory has been proven correct time and again in guiding emancipatory movements, it is not the only thought to have done so. As I have indicated, thought does not come with the same guarantees as scientific socialism. Nevertheless, correct prescriptions–ideas that are confirmed correct through their material and practical consequences–begins in thought.

This brings us to the point about rarity. Real circumstances are always exceptional: each circumstance consists of an uneven balance of forces that are produced through an accumulation of historical contradictions. The formation of emancipatory politics is rare because it is incredibly difficult to produce the correct thoughts and unique forms of organization that are adequate to contest the present ordering regime in the exceptional, overdetermined moment. In other words, politics must begin in thought but can only be realized through correct prescriptions. In this sense, emancipatory politics both begins in thought and is fundamentally material. 

The reason why I have suggested that thought is central to politics is because thought is already something that is always happening in the minds of all people, regardless of their understanding of the world. Thought is a fundamental category of subjectivity and human agency. The question for those of us involved in the struggle for emancipation is which thought, and at which sites, does a lasting subjectivization emerge that can topple the given and exceptional ordering regime? The particular sites of politics–the places where thought occurs–are what must be discovered so we can alter our current forms of organization to produce the rare, emancipatory sequence.

Fourth, if politics is rare, are we to believe that history is a series of disconnected moments with no continuity between them? Is each beginning or emancipatory sequence always forced to start from scratch? I will admit that the question of history is made extremely complicated by the frameworks of Badiou and Lazarus which I have drawn on. But I will also say that history has always been a complicated question in Marxism, already evident in the longstanding debate about Marx’s relation to Hegel, Marx’s letters on Russia, the debate between the Bolsheviks and the Mensheviks, the question of “stagism,” the debate over the Stalinist “theory of the productive forces,” etc.

Instead of attempting to resolve the problem of history in Marxism, I will address the questions I have posed related to history with reference to an axiom of Marx and Engels: that history always progresses by its bad side. For Althusser, the bad side is the side from which people do not expect history to progress. I understand this to mean that the past does not transmit an accumulation of “lessons” that lead us to a final victory, but an accumulation of contradictions that form the exceptional circumstances of the present moment. This moment is managed by the given ordering regime. And it is also a condition of the real which, through an event, erupts within subjective thought in interiority.

From the framework of emancipatory sequences, what is continuous is the problem of the exceptional present, and thus, new ideas that can prescribe correct practices to overcome it. As Lazarus writes in a forthcoming translation of a 1981 text: “one must continue to find the rupture.”8

With a more limited understanding of continuity, we might say that different degrees of continuity between emancipatory sequences is possible at times. But greater continuity does not guarantee that solving the problem of the present will be any easier. For example, one might argue, as Parkinson does, that there was a continuity between Marx and Lenin via Kautsky and the SPD. But even with this degree of continuity, it was by no means obvious or guaranteed that Marxism could be adapted to the Russian context. It was the discontinuity and difference–that which was new in Lenin’s thought–that made Lenin’s contributions to Marxism possible and significant. We might go so far as to say that, for Lenin, Marxism itself was one dimension of the problem of the present.

Marx, Lenin, and the Party

Now Parkinson has vigorously contested my usage of Lazarus to argue that Marx and Lenin had differences on the question of the party. I will get to that. But to continue with my discussion of continuity and discontinuity, I must again assert that Lenin’s thought contains new ideas that cannot be found in Marx. We will bracket the question of whether or not Lenin invented these ideas: we will simply compare the ideas of Marx and Lenin. To avoid saying anything controversial, I will reassert the difference between Marx and Lenin with reference to Rossana Rossanda’s 1970 classic, “Class and Party.”

As Rossanda explains, “what separates Marx from Lenin (who, far from filling in Marx’s outlines, oriented himself in a different direction) is that the organization is never considered by Marx as anything but an essentially practical matter, a flexible and changing instrument, an expression of the real subject of the revolution, namely the proletariat.”9 

To fully appreciate the difference between Marx and Lenin, we need to focus on Marx for a moment. Marx sees a “direct” relationship between the proletariat and the party of the proletariat. In fact, “the terms are almost interchangeable. For between the class as such and its political being, there is only a practical difference, in the sense that the second is the contingent form of the first.”10

What is the mechanism that produces this organized, “practical difference”? For Rossanda, Marx sees the class struggle with its “material roots in the mechanism of the system itself.” We can refer back to Marx’s famous letter to Weydemyer to support Rossanda’s reading. Interestingly, when reviewing Marx’s letter we immediately see him address the question of originality.

And now as to myself, no credit is due to me for discovering the existence of classes in modern society or the struggle between them. Long before me bourgeois historians had described the historical development of this class struggle and bourgeois economists, the economic economy of the classes. 

First, I think we can immediately see the question of originality is more complicated than Parkinson makes it out to be. Marx plainly states that his discovery is not the historical development of the class struggle, but something more specific. Fortunately, Marx gives us a clear description:

What I did that was new was to prove: (1) that the existence of classes is only bound up with particular historical phases in the development of production (historische Entwicklungsphasen der Production), (2) that the class struggle necessarily leads to the dictatorship of the proletariat, (3) that this dictatorship itself only constitutes the transition to the abolition of all classes and to a classless society.11

In other words, what was new in Marx’s work was showing how the class struggle does not simply relate to historical development, but “historical phases in the development of production.” This discovery produces a particular emancipatory prescription. As Rossanda rightly says, for Marx, the category of revolution is thus the “process which is intended to transcend the system.” Revolution is “a social activity which creates, over time, the political forms which the class needs and which constitutes its organization–namely the party.” Despite the apparent interchability of the terms “party” and “proletariat,” we see that for Marx “this is only so in the sense that the former is the political form of the latter, and constitutes its transitory mode of being, with the historical imperfections of concrete political institutions; while the proletariat remains the permanent historical subject, rooted in the material conditions of the capitalist system.”12

To return to Lazarus, we should note that Rossanda employs Lenin’s periodization of Marxism as found in his “The Historical Destiny of the Doctrine of Karl Marx” essay. Lazarus, Rossanda, and Lenin all agree that 1848 to 1871 was a specific phase or sequence that centers on Marx’s thought. For Lazarus, this phase is called the “classist mode” of politics, with Marx being its main theorist. We should be clear that Lazarus is using the term “classist” in a particular way. Rather than referring to discrimination based on class, he is referring to the idea that there are historical laws which determine the existence of classes in society and the struggle between them – exactly what Marx said in the letter to Weydemeyer that he had inherited from the bourgeois historians. 

For Lazarus, a mode is “the relationship of a politics to its thought.”13 Rather than this mode beginning with the 1848 revolutions as Lenin claims, Lazarus expands this beginning to include the publication of the Communist Manifesto. Again, I believe both Lenin and Lazarus would agree that this period can be characterized as one in which “Marx’s doctrine by no means dominated. It was only one of the very numerous groups or trends of socialism.”14 While Marx’s thought proved to be a subjective, emancipatory thought that, to use Lenin’s words, “gained a complete victory and began to spread” after 1871, Lazarus argues that this is the moment when the sites of Marx’s thought lapsed and the whole classist mode became exhausted. Why? Because the Paris Commune revealed the limits of the thesis of Marx’s merger of “the prescriptive and the descriptive,” the merger of “history and politics” that takes the name “historical consciousness.”15 Nevertheless, it is clear that Marxism did continue to grow and spread as Lenin claimed.

Lenin and Lazarus’s periodization diverges in an interesting way. For Lenin, there is a second period from 1872-1904 that is characterized by the “absence of revolutions” and “the theoretical victory of Marxism” that “compelled its enemies to disguise themselves as Marxists. Liberalism, rotten within, tried to revive itself in the form of socialist opportunism.”16 Then there is a third period from 1905 to Lenin’s textual present of 1913 when “a new source of great world storms opened up in Asia. The Russian revolution was followed by revolutions in Turkey, Persia and China. It is in this era of storms and their ‘repercussions’ in Europe that we are now living.”17

I think it is striking that the dates of Lenin and Lazarus’ periodizations align so closely. While Lenin points to the Russian Revolution of 1905 as a second revolutionary era in Marxism, Lazarus argues that the Bolshevik mode begins in 1902 with Lenin’s publication of What Is to Be Done? (WITBD). Again, Parkinson has challenged this point and I will take it up later. 

The point I want to make is that the end of the “classist mode,” or first period of Marxism, seems to contain an insight into Marxism in general. Until 1871, Marxism was not a victorious doctrine: it was the thought of Marx. Famously, Marx never claimed to be a Marxist and it is a somewhat common view to see Engels as the real creator of Marxism. But then, as we know, Engels has been criticized heavily for some of his formulations. This is to say that the first Marxist is by no means a prophet, but begins a critical discussion of Marx’s work. In this sense, it would seem that it is impossible to view Marxism as a singular, cohesive set of ideas: Marxism is always contested. I would suggest that the “doctrine of Karl Marx” that became victorious is not so much Marxism, but the emergence of multiple Marxist tendencies: of Marxisms.

This would seem to be reflected in Lenin’s second and third periods. After 1871 we can see two tendencies develop, though not necessarily in a clean fork from Marx’s work. On the one hand, there was the mechanical tendency that came to be advanced by Kautsky and Bernstein in the Social Democratic Party of Germany. In this sense, we see that while Luxemburg was correct in her famous criticism of Bernstein, this mechanical tendency did have its roots in a particular understanding of politics that is unique to Marx: the merger of history and the politics. The problem ultimately was that Bernstein had failed to see that the realization of communism as a result of historical phases in the development of production had already been exhausted. On the other hand, due to the “backward” Russian situation, Lenin would be forced to find another way. 

To put things very simply, Lenin’s other way would take the name Leninism. And Leninism would correctly oppose other non-Marxist and Marxist tendencies, with the proof of its correctness culminating in October 1917. But the Lenin of 1913 could not have known he was to become a great thinker of emancipation or that his 1902 intervention–WITBD–could be seen as the basis of a distinct mode of politics. Yet it is telling that Lenin dates 1905 as a key moment for the second revolutionary period in Marxism with reference to the 1905 “dress rehearsal.” While the 1905 revolution was not successful, it produced a new, revolutionary form of organization: the soviet. Combined with the party, the soviet put the question of revolution back on the table: a new emancipatory sequence had begun. 

Let’s return to Marx so we can see more clearly what’s new in Lenin. According to Lazarus, a key thesis of the classist mode is: “where there are proletarians, there are Communists.” As Rossanda shows, for Marx, “the proletariat in struggle does not produce an institution distinct from its immediate being”: if “one does not find a theory of the party in Marx, the reason is that, in his theory of revolution, there is neither need nor room for it.”18 Thus, from Marx to Lenin we see a recasting of the dialectic “in which the subject is the proletariat and the object society produced by the relations of capitalist production, thus moves towards a dialectic between class and vanguard, in which the former has the capacity of an ‘objective quantity,’ while the latter, the party, being the subject, is the locus of ‘revolutionary initiative.’”19 I would like to emphasize what is at stake in this shift: a fundamentally different conception of the emancipatory subject. 

Why was Lenin’s break with Marx necessary? It is the same reason that for Lenin, Marxism was one dimension of the problem of the present. “Lenin’s horizon was delimited by two major facts: first of all, capitalism has entered in the imperialist phase, and its crisis reveals itself more complex than had been foreseen.”20 Beyond this, “Lenin, throughout his life, had to face the growing resistance of the system, and a capacity for action of the working class much inferior from 1848 to the Paris Commune.”21 Ultimately, “the capitalist and imperialism system was defeated in areas which, according to the Marxian schema, were not ‘ripe’ for communism.”22 In other words, for Lenin:

the confrontation must be prepared: the more society lacks ‘maturity,’ the more important it is that a vanguard should provoke the telescoping of objective conditions with the intolerability of exploitation and a revolutionary explosion, by giving the exploited and the oppressed the consciousness of their real condition, by wrenching them out of ignorance and resignation, by indicating to them a method, a strategy and the possibility or revolt–by making them revolutionaries.23

It would seem Rossanda is once again in agreement with Lazarus. For Lazarus, “the basis of Lenin’s thinking and of the Bolshevik mode of politics is the following statement: Proletarian politics is subject to condition…that it is subject to condition indicates that politics is expressive neither of social conditions nor…of history as Marx conceived of it.”24 Lazarus develops this point further, noting that “Lenin does not go so far as to abandon the connection between class and history but he makes it conditional on consciousness.”25 Lenin’s break nonetheless leads us to an inversion of a classically Marxian understanding of antagonism: 

one cannot argue that it is antagonism that constitutes consciousness–it appears instead to be one of its propositions, the end product of a process subject to condition. Therefore, it is not antagonism that produces consciousness but consciousness that declares it…Consciousness is not so much a historical space as a political and prescriptive space.26

Now that we have seen what is new in Lenin, we are in a position to conclude this section with a turn toward our own exceptional present with the question of continuity and discontinuity in mind. To put what I have said in a slightly different way: since the circumstances of the present are always exceptional, the question of emancipation must always begin with a new, unbalanced equation. A limited notion of continuity may supply us with some notion of a constant, but it is what’s discontinuous, the formation of the new answer to the new equation, that we must always solve ourselves. 

Let’s try to push this mathematical metaphor further. We might say beginnings are what occur on scratch paper until a solution is produced; it is the arrival at the answer that transforms what was a messy scrap into the site of an ingenious breakthrough. It is that site of the breakthrough that has the potential to support the lasting formation of the subject, which is composed by militants it at the same time exceeds. There are no guarantees, only a wager that can be made in correspondence with the upsurge of the masses, or to use Lenin’s term, stikhiinost.27

On what basis can we claim this site is necessarily the party? Even if we could say with certainty that the categories and sites of historical modes of politics will occur in the form of something called a party, then what are we left with if not another undefined variable? The matter is much more difficult than simply having an undefined variable, since this is precisely what we started with. Abstract reference to the party produces a figure that only gives the appearance of definition: what we are left with is a shadow cast on the whole situation that we confuse with the real. 

To put it another way: at best, the party discussion amounts to a confusing and overwrought insistence on organizing to produce an emancipatory subject and the sites that give it consistency. But it does not say any more than this. In this scenario, insistence on the party does not give us any clues about which subjective thoughts, at which particular sites, could produce correct prescriptions to advance the emancipatory struggle in our exceptional moment.  At its worst, the party discussion reduces the question of subjectivization to ideal organizational structures, procedures, and administration to build “states within states” and other unappealing creations. This amounts to a schematic application of blueprints from the past and, unsurprisingly, consistently fails to generate any support beyond the dozen people who were inspired by a particular episode in the history of the international communist movement. 

Beyond the best and worst scenarios, I think there are additional dangers. Since our current socialist movement has only the faintest understanding of what capitalism is and that it must be abolished, mechanical calls for things like “democratic centralism” could very well become the means to reelecting progressive Democrats to save and manage capitalism in a crumbling two-party system. Why? Because if the subjective, emancipatory character is not a question we are concerned with–if politics is not in command–then the vicious existing order of exploitation and exclusion stands and depoliticized proceduralism reigns. 

The Method of Saturation

We now have to make an abrupt turn to Sylvain Lazarus’s notion of “modes of politics.” Parkinson believes Lars Lih’s work on Lenin refutes Lazarus’s periodization of emancipatory sequences. Parkinson makes two claims: first, that Lazarus’s method provides no explanatory value because “the only thing that Lazarus’s narrative explains is why he thinks we need to abandon all the past concepts of Marxist politics and come up with something completely novel.” And second, that “the narrative Lazarus paints is simply not true. Lenin was not breaking with the political practice or conceptions of Marx and Engels in What Is To Be Done? and wasn’t making any kind of original argument.”

Let’s begin with the first claim: that Lazarus is simply projecting his pre-formed conclusions back onto history to discard all Marxist categories, and therefore his analysis has no value. As I have said, it was my intention to provoke a discussion by turning to Lazarus; I am glad to have the opportunity to discuss him further. While I do have reservations about his work, I think there is tremendous value in thinking through it.

It is telling that in Parkinson’s 336 word summary of Lazarus’s argument as found in “Lenin and the Party, 1902–November 1917,” the name of Lazarus’s method–saturation–is nowhere to be found. I believe Parkinson’s frustration with and suspicion of Lazarus’s analysis is symptomatic of the fact that he does not engage at all with Lazarus’s method. This is an obvious problem if you are going to refute an argument, but by no means do I think Parkinson is to blame. To be fair, the word “saturation” appears only once in Lazarus’s “Lenin and the Party” essay to which Parkinson refers. Had Parkinson read Lazarus’s “Can Politics be Thought in Interiority?,” often considered an introductory text, he may have run into similar troubles: the term only appears once in there too around the middle.28 Nevertheless, I am sure Parkinson pored over Lazarus’s “Lenin and the Party” text looking for its weakness and revised his summary of Lazarus’s argument extensively. Clearly, we need more opportunities for greater collective study to work through complicated issues, and in this regard Parkinson’s efforts are salutary. However, for efforts to be fruitful, they have to go beyond rejoinders to isolated points and actually engage with the underlying questions and categories of the text.

It is true that in his text on Lenin Lazarus dismisses “the category of revolution.” For Lazarus, “this dismissal is a complex business, for the closure by itself does not break historicism.”29 This point raises more questions than answers. What does Lazarus mean by “historicism”? Where is Lazarus’s argument ultimately taking us? Are we going to be forced to accept Lazarus’s dismissal of revolution?

Let’s work backward, taking the last question first. I do not think dismissing the category of revolution is necessary. It is sufficient to reject a static conception of revolution, and instead evaluate the concept in relation to the various circumstances in which it appears. Since Lazarus is attempting to make a very particular point about “the category of revolution,” I do not think engaging in a discussion of his method equates to full endorsement. In my opinion, the dismissal of the category of revolution is a highly controversial, though nonetheless interesting, idea to think through.

To give some idea of where Lazarus’s argument takes us, Lazarus will reject a purist framework that says we should reject the Bolshevik mode because it was intrinsically authoritarian and doomed to failure. For Lazarus:

the method of saturation consists in the re-examination, from within a closed mode, of the exact nature of protocols and processes of subjectivization that it proposed. We are then in a better position to identify what the statements of subjectivization were and the ever singular reason for their precariousness. The thesis of the cessation of a subjective category and that of the precariousness of politics (which goes hand in hand with the rarity of politics) are not supplanted by a thesis with regard to failure and a lack of subjectivization.30

Perhaps this passage gives us a sense of what Lazarus means by “closure.” Nevertheless, we can see clearly that the method of saturation has something to do with a “re-examination” to better understand the protocols, processes, prescriptions, and statements of subjectivization that compose a mode of politics. We see clearly that subjective categories are “precarious,” and that this precarity has something to do with its rarity. We see that the cessation of a subjective category does not authorize one to make the accusation of failure. 

We must ask what Lazarus means by “historicism.” After a discussion of the Bolshevik mode–which I gave an account of in my “Beginnings” piece–we are left with Lazarus’s claim that “the lapsing of the party form, in its political efficacy, was thus complete after November 1917,” and “from this moment on we enter a historicist problematic of politics in which the key word becomes revolution.” So we see that “historicism” is a problematic, or theoretical framework, of politics that comes after the closure of the Bolshevik mode. The Bolshevik mode was a real emancipatory sequence whose sites were the party and the soviet. The party “lapsed,” which is to say that it was no longer a site of emancipatory politics, after its fusion with the state in November 1917, thus subordinating the soviets to its directions.31 Following this lapse, the term “revolution” is symptomatic of, or indicates, the “historicist problematic of politics.” 

We have two questions now: why is the term revolution symptomatic of a historicist problematic of politics? And still, what is the historicist problematic of politics?

We have to pay close attention to what Lazarus means by revolution. “The term revolution is not a generic term denoting an insurrection against the established order, or a change in the structures of a state—and a state of things. It is on the contrary a singular term.” It is a “singular noun” that “constitutes the central category of acting consciousness” that belongs to what Lazarus calls the “revolutionary mode, the political sequence of the French Revolution.”32 

So we see the problem clearly. For Lazarus, “revolution” is a singular term that belongs to a particular sequence that occurred from 1792-94 that had its own main theorist (Saint-Just) and sites of politics (the Jacobin Convention, the sans culottes, and the revolutionary army).33

For Lazarus, the issue with retaining the term “revolution” is that it was exhausted in 1794 with the closure of the French Revolution, what he calls the “revolutionary” mode of politics. In order to understand the specificity of this emancipatory sequence and how it came to an end, he interprets “revolution” as a category that is located within it and cannot simply be generalized to any political situation. What is at stake here is that a “historicist problematic of politics” does not conceive of singular conceptions of subjectivity as a relation of the real circumstances in which they emerge. If “revolution” is understood as a singular category of political thinking, then it is because the term has to do with the moment in which revolution bears “political capacity.”34 Otherwise, the term has been “captured” at its most fundamental level by the “historicist” notion that “marks out the state as the sole and essential issue at stake in politics.”35 In other words, if the category of revolution is captured by historicism, then revolution cannot pertain to a subjective decision that is thought in thought. The category of revolution, removed from singular context, thus becomes a category of a de-subjectivized statism. In this case, the category of revolution is deprived of its emancipatory power.

Let’s try to put all this more simply. If we agree that emancipation is our goal, we have to then confront the question of the emancipatory political subject – that is, what allows us to identify a politics that cannot be reduced to the objective conditions of the existing reality. We have to engage in the difficult task of identifying particular subjective occurrences as a thought of politics that relates to its objective circumstances but can also go beyond them and put the ordering regime into question. Otherwise, our thinking is dominated by “circulating” political ideas – that is, categories that were formed within specific situations which are generalized and circulated to entirely different situations. These circulating notions prevent us from understanding how categories specific to a historical mode of politics have been exhausted and are no longer appropriate to the current moment. In effect, we remain “captured” by the present state of things and unable to advance the subjective thoughts of our circumstances that are required to struggle for universal emancipation.

Now that we have discussed and defined the “historicist problematic of politics,” I believe we are in a position to see why Parkinson’s claim that Lazarus’s method contains no value and that it seeks to do away with all Marxist categories indicates a serious misunderstanding. While Lazarus may be interpreted as “breaking” with Marxism, the larger point is that he breaks with all other formalized disciplines, including social science and history, to construct his theory of politics. This move is interesting because even though he speaks of “dismissal,” he by no means suggests we discard Marx, Lenin, or Mao. His argument is that disciplines like history and social science have already done this since becoming captured by the historicist problematic. In other words, Lazarus argues that social science and history have significantly contributed to the “destitution and criminalization of the ‘revolutions’ of the twentieth century.” This criminalization of the revolutionary thought and practice of Marx, Lenin, and Mao becomes the basis for the “contemporary parliamentary” regime. This regime consists of “competitive capitalism, commodities, and money presented as voluntary choices of our freedom,” leaving us with “the collapse of thought, reduced to microeconomics and the philosophy of John Rawls, or rendered coextensive with the political philosophy of the rights of man in a senile appropriation of Kant.”36 As Lazarus further explains:

The fall of the Soviet Union and socialism has fully confirmed the good historicist conscience of parliamentarianism in its rightful place and considerably reinforced its arrogance, its violence, and its legitimacy, allowing it to treat any reservation and criticism, worse still any other project, as crazy and criminal.37

So we see that for Lazarus, the dismissal of revolution is not an attack on Marxism or emancipation. Rather, the act of dismissal is the basis for Lazarus’ radical critique of the disciplines of social science and history that have foreclosed on the possibility of organizing human life in any way beyond the depravity of our existing society. In other words, Lazarus does not proclaim the end of history or revolution: his point is that social science and history have already done this. Rather than argue for a renewal of social science or history, he attempts to overturn them completely to think about the possibility of emancipatory politics.

Let’s return to the passage that I began with about the dismissal of the category of revolution, this time in full:

This dismissal is a complex business, for the closure by itself does not break historicism. What is involved is in no way closing a previous stage and moving on to the following one (which is the case with historicism), but rather maintaining that any closure requires the re-examination of the era whose closure is to be pronounced. This is what I call saturation, a method that traces the subjective spaces of the categories of the sequence to be closed.38

Here we see the lone occurrence of “saturation” in the Lazarus essay that Parkinson focused on. As Lazarus clearly indicates, this word represents his very method, and is clearly fundamental to his analysis in which there are historical modes of politics. 

As I have already suggested, saturation is defined as a method that attempts to understand the singular forms of subjectivity: “the exact nature of protocols and processes of subjectivization that is proposed.”39 To “prevent us from turning modes into subjective abstractions,” the subjective category is taken into account with its historical moment, thus giving us the historical modes of politics.40 The historical moment is essentially defined by Lazarus’s “category of historicity” which “renders the question of the state.”41 We see that the “closure” of these sequences, of identifying the moments in which the sites of this subjectivity breaks down, by no means gives us permission to “move on to the following one,” as this “moving on” is precisely what characterizes the historicist problematic which deprives the occurrence of subjectivity its power. In other words, Lazarus rejects a stagism that might put Marx, Lenin, and Mao into a particular kind of order, with one supplanting the next. For Lazarus, historical modes of thought have to be taken in their singularity.

Lazarus’s method of saturation means putting the instances of subjectivity in their correct place to be kept alive as relations of their moment so they can be “re-examined.” Thus, it is the method of saturation that, by way of this re-examining of “subjective spaces,” allows us to identify “the singularity of the politics at work” in a particular sequence. By putting the category of revolution in its correct place in the revolutionary mode and removing “from October the description of revolution,” Lenin and the Bolshevik mode are given back “its originality and its unprecedented political power—that of being the invention of modern politics.”42

So here we see that Lazarus’s method of saturation produces a schema of emancipatory sequences through careful study of singular subjectivity. This includes the re-examination of Marx, Lenin, and Mao within their particular spaces. Clearly, a re-examination of Marx, Lenin, and Mao cannot mean doing away with them. What is interesting to me is how this method opens the door to thinking about emancipatory formations that exist outside the historically contingent boundaries of the communist movement. It is in this sense that I agree very strongly with Mohandesi’s invocation of Althusser: that “it is not a matter of ‘expanding’ the existing politics, but of knowing how to listen to politics where it happens.”43 

This is why I think Asad Haider is correct to argue that the Civil Rights Movement was an emancipatory sequence.44 As Marxists, I believe we need a theory that can account for events like the Montgomery bus boycott and sequences like the Civil Rights Movement in their own terms. Rather than continue to evaluate the degree of development of people’s consciousness in relation to a particular emancipatory thought, I think we should consider Lazarus’ founding axiom: people think.

Take the Montgomery bus boycott as just one example. Segregation on busses was both a particular form of oppression that was essentially a universal experience for Black people living in Montgomery. While Rosa Parks’s refusal to give up her seat was an event of rupture, she was by no means the first to engage in this act of refusal. What was the result? Roughly 40% of a city boycotted a primary mode of transportation for nine months. Their boycott put significant pressure on municipal revenues. The refusal of public transit disrupted white households to such an extent that white women who were not sympathetic to the boycott would pick up the Black women who worked in their homes and lie to their husbands about doing so. Those with cars participated in the organizing of ride-sharing programs to help the boycotters get around.45 All of this incredible organization happened, yet the notion of a political party is nowhere to be found. But there were clearly thought and correct prescriptions. There was clearly something we might call discipline or fidelity, some kind of active principle that drove people to such incredible lengths to oppose the existing society. How do we begin to account for this? We say that people think.

Refuting Refutation

However, even if we bracket the question of method, we have to address an empirical objection. Parkinson goes further than stating that Lazarus’s overall approach has no value. He claims it is categorically false. With reference to Lars Lih’s Lenin Rediscovered, Parkinson maintains that Lenin “wasn’t making any kind of original argument” in WITBD. The text apparently shows “an impressive exercise in aggressive unoriginality.” 

Before we can address this criticism, we should first clarify that for Lazarus, WITBD marks the beginning of the Bolshevik mode: it is the beginning of a sequence that runs “from 1902 to October 1917. It was closed by the victory of the insurrection, the creation of the Soviet state, and the renaming of the Bolsheviks as the Communist Party in 1918.”46 By identifying the lapsing of the Bolshevik sites and seeing the successful insurrection as part of the closure of the Bolshevik mode, we separate the contradictions of socialist construction from the singular power of Lenin’s thought. For Lazarus, WITBD is the privileged text because “it bears on politics, its conditions and its thought”: “I think it is absolutely essential to separate radically the texts before the seizure of power from those of the period of the exercise of power.”47 If this is too radical a claim, then we can at least accept that despite the fact that we can find Lenin’s work in his Collected Works, this “by no way means that one can decide a priori that the theses in these thousands of texts are internally homogeneous and coherent. The existence of such a work does not mean continuity, homogeneity, unity.”48 In other words, if we understand the Bolshevik mode as a sequence that is guided by the subjective thought of Lenin over time, then we must see that Lenin’s thought must be heterogeneous. It would follow then that whatever relationship Lenin has to Marx and Kautsky – certainly two people that were significant influences on him – we cannot characterize this influence as static and unchanging.

Now to Parkinson’s criticism on the question of “originality.” If we take Parkinson literally–that Lenin “wasn’t making any kind of original argument”–then we have an extreme position that can be met with what might seem to be a counter-intuitive fact: that repetition is difference.

How can we illustrate this? We can say that even if the totality of Lenin’s political expression had been submitting quotations from the Collected Works of Marx and Engels in the original German to his opponents without any additional commentary–even if Lenin had randomly drawn pages of Marx’s actual manuscripts from a hat and nailed them to the doors of his rivals–this would still be in some sense “original,” though certainly bizarre and likely ineffective. Why? At the most immediate level, because simply selecting quotations from works which were frequently unfinished or abandoned to the “gnawing criticism of the mice,” which responded to changing historical circumstances and constantly went through developments and changes in their theoretical frameworks, would already represent a specific and contentious interpretation, and this interpretation would be an intervention into a scenario which was totally different from the one in which the works were originally written. But it is also because it is impossible to do the same thing twice.49 It is for this reason that we do not refer to the immortal science of Marxism-Marxism. But even if we did, the placement of the second Marxism would still indicate a difference through its repetition. Indeed, the name “Marxism-Leninism” obviously indicates that “Leninism” is something separate from “Marxism,” thus requiring a hyphen to connect them.

To be fair to Parkinson, we might ask what else his statement could mean beyond a literal interpretation. While I have already shown that Parkinson has neglected to engage with the questions that Lazarus’s method sets out to address, I believe we can read Parkinson’s statements symptomatically to understand what seems to be at stake. I recognize that to this point I have used the term “symptomatic” a few times and should clarify what I mean in the current context. Here I am referring to Althusser’s method of reading that “divulges the undivulged event in the text.”50 Thus, I will attempt to analyze what is happening beneath the text.

Let’s take this statement from Parkinson for example: “What Lazarus is doing is projecting a radical break into history so as to justify that another radical break is necessary.” It would seem Parkinson has been forced into a situation where he must deny discontinuity and difference between Marx and Lenin. This seems to be confirmed by the fact that while the term “continuity” appears five times in his reply, the term “discontinuity” does not appear at all. Instead, we get five uses of the term “novelty.” What is particularly interesting about Parkinson’s usage of “novelty” is that while it is used once to mean the opposite of continuity (his assertion that history is a “flux of novelty and continuity”), novelty is primarily used to accuse Lazarus, and my usage of him, as falling into the fallacy of an “appeal to novelty.” Beyond the suppression of the term discontinuity, the term “difference” does not appear at all in Parkinson’s piece and the term “different” appears once. It is worth noting that Parkinson’s essay is 4,393 words long.

So we see that a symptomatic reading shows that discontinuity and difference is suppressed in Parkinson’s text. Our symptomatic reading of Parkinson’s thesis that Lenin “wasn’t making any kind of original argument” in WITBD produces another tension. We might express this additional tension in the form of a question: to what degree can one person’s thought be continuous with another’s through the reality of difference – historical and geographical difference, and even simply the difference between political actors? To answer this question requires locating what is divergent between the two thoughts. In other words, what does one think that the other does not? While it is certainly possible that Lazarus and myself have posed this question in a Saint-Justian register (“In a time of innovation, anything that is not new is pernicious”), I do not think investigating this question is in any way fallacious. Certainly Lazarus’s reading is challenging to those who are set in their commitments. But then I do not know what the point of study and discussion is if we assume we already have the answer.

So let’s put Parkinson’s literal thesis aside and adopt the question that we have constructed from his text about continuity and difference. Rather than simply read Parkinson against himself, we’ll see if we can support Lazarus’s claims with the arguments Parkinson has made to refute him. 

Let’s begin with Lih. While Lih stresses that Lenin’s text is very much in-line with Erfurtian convention, he also clearly states that the fifth and final chapter of WITBD centers on Lenin’s original idea: that a unified Russian party can be constructed through “the nation-wide underground newspaper.” Lest I be accused of misinterpretation I will quote two passages from Lih’s Lenin Rediscovered in their entirety:

The newspaper plan was Lenin’s baby – his own original idea, one that he had laboured long and hard to bring to fruition. His ambitious dream that a nation-wide underground newspaper could galvanise Russian Social Democracy into effective and unified action is here supported with a great deal of ingenuity.51

As Liadov argues, the distinctive dilemma facing Russian Social Democracy was that separate underground organisations that had grown up locally with roots in the local worker milieu had to somehow come together to create central institutions. Lenin’s plan is an ingenious strategy for getting from A to B: from a series of independent local committees to a set of central institutions with enough legitimacy to provide genuine co-ordination (Lenin has this situation in mind when he talks about constructing the Party ‘from all directions’).52

While a national underground newspaper is less exciting than protracted people’s war in the countryside, it nevertheless proved effective and correct. I take this to be a clear indication of Lenin’s singular role in producing the party, which along with the soviet, the organizational form that was “discovered” starting from the 1905 revolution and was absolutely central for Lenin’s conception of politics in 1917, can be understood to be the sites of the Bolshevik mode of politics. By no means was the creation of the all-Russian newspaper an obvious strategy for building the party. This is precisely why Lenin poses the question as the heading of section B of this decisive chapter: “Can a newspaper be a collective organiser?” In Lih’s commentary on this section, he shows that Lenin faced stiff resistance to this idea from Nadezhdin despite their shared goals:

Both Lenin and Nadezhdin want to organise and lead the assault on the autocracy, both of them feel there is vast revolutionary potential in the narod, and both feel that local organisations are the weak links at present. Nadezhdin’s proposed scenario is: the local praktiki organise the people, the narod, for an assault on the autocracy. The activity ‘cultivates [vospitat]’ strong local organisations which are then in a position to unify the Party. But, argues Nedezhdin, an all-Russian newspaper is not much use for the crucial step of organising the narod, because of its inevitable distance from concrete local issues and its ‘writerism.’ In contrast, Lenin’s proposed scenario is: use an all-Russian newspaper to cultivate the local organisations and let these newly prepared leader/guides go out and organise the narod.53

Now that we can see there is an empirically verifiable new idea in WITBD that was essential to the formation of the party, we are brought to yet another decisive point. This point requires that we contest what may seem like a more modest thesis: that there is no meaningful difference between the political thought of Marx and Lenin. This more reasonable thesis is defeated if we seriously consider an argument that Parkinson himself presents. In reference to Marx and Lenin, Parkinson argues that “the break never really happened in the first place. Marx himself fought to form the workers’ party in his own time and struggled within it for programmatic clarity. His own life was an example of the merger formula in practice. Kautsky merely systematized it and Lenin applied it to Russian conditions.” 

What is on the surface level an argument for continuity actually relies on identifying discontinuities. If there is no meaningful difference between Marx and Lenin in their political thought, if there is no break, then how could we put Marx, Kautsky, and Lenin into a series of neat successions? Marx lived the merger formula. Kautsky systematized it. Lenin applied it. These are three distinct moments, three different orientations towards the party in entirely different circumstances, and a continuity can only be identified through these differences. 

In addition to this point about continuity and difference, we are left with a puzzling question: How can Marx and Lenin have no meaningful difference if Lenin’s politics is inconceivable without Kautsky’s systemization of Marx? Here we see a striking problem for Parkinson: if there is an argument that Lenin did not break with Marx on the question of politics in a decisive way, then this is precisely an argument that a Neo-Kautskyan position would not allow us to make. If Kautsky is a central figure in the development of Marxism, then Lenin must have a meaningful divergence in his thought from Marx since Lenin’s thought is dependent on Kautsky’s systemization of Marx. But if Marx and Lenin do not have a meaningful difference in their thought, this would only be because Kautsky’s thought was irrelevant to Lenin’s development. Thus, a precondition to refuting Lazarus’s claim that there is a break between Marx and Lenin is a rejection of Kautsky. Given that Parkinson and Cosmonaut seem committed to a neo-Erfurtain project, a rejection of Kautsky to show that Marx and Lenin have no meaningful difference in their thought would be a very strange position to take up.

Partisan Conclusions

I would like to close with a concrete proposal. This proposal is the product of reading Lazarus and re-examining Lenin and the Bolshevik mode of politics. I believe this proposal is both guided by Lenin’s subjective practices while also resistant to a mechanical imposition of historical forms of organization.

At a recent CPGB event, I was very heartened to see Parkinson advocate for Marxists to join DSA. I agree with Cosmonaut’s mission statement that we need more lively discussions and study outside of the academy. I believe that DSA is currently the best site for continued discussion, study, and experimentation for the Marxist left in the US. I say this knowing full well the organization’s limitations. While DSA can be a difficult place for a number of reasons, I do not think it can be abandoned.

The recent announcement of the Partisan project, a joint publication between San Francisco’s Red Star, NYC’s Emerge, Portland’s Red Caucus, and the Communist Caucus, is immensely encouraging. I welcome the creation of this publication as a step toward the formation of a consolidated Marxist bloc within DSA through which greater study, discussion, and collaboration within the organization can be pursued and relationships with organizations abroad can be deepend. While the caucus paradigm has been important to organizing and developing different tendencies, I believe the caucuses engaging in the Partisan project are correct to be working together more closely. I suggest this work be taken further so we can overcome the various points of unity within DSA that actually limit the degree to which our forces can be consolidated to combat liberals and wreckers within the organization. It seems to me that the notion of partisanship could be a particularly effective organizing principle in forming such a Marxist bloc. I am thinking here of Gavin Walker’s assertion that “the party means to choose a side, to uphold the concept of antagonism, to emphasize that antagonism cannot be avoided without denying the basic politicality of social life.”54

A diversity of views consolidated around core partisan commitments can be the basis for greater collective study, discussion, and experimentation. The Partisan project seems like the best existing vehicle to drive this consolidation, since it is already a formalized partnership between different tendencies. Crucially, it is still a new project that is presumably still figuring out its direction.

While I am unaffiliated with these caucuses and Partisan, I do want to make a recommendation. I propose that Partisan invite other national and local Marxist caucuses, as well as other Marxists and left publications inside and outside of DSA, including comrades abroad, to join the Partisan project. This could be initiated with scheduling an open meeting on Zoom. This open meeting could be called by the Partisan editorial collective to discuss recent articles that have been published in the Partisan journal and beyond with the goal of meeting regularly to develop and explore collective lines of inquiry and practical experimentation. All of this seems in line with the current language of the Partisan project.55

To be more prescriptive, I would suggest that this project concern itself with subjectivization, rather than “building the party.” In my opinion, the party makes it harder to see the tasks before us; the party locates the forms of organization we need now in the future. Without trying to be exhaustive, I believe we should be less concerned with programs and discipline, and more interested in formulating shared partisan commitments that are capable of supporting a diversity of views while fiercely opposing neutralizing tendencies that seek to collaborate with Democrats and generally maintain mass depoliticization. We should emphasize our current need for the collective study necessary to ask each other better questions, rather than attempt to educate others with inadequate answers. In my opinion, we should give up the notion of “leadership” and instead develop positions of partisanship. This includes combatting the liberal establishment’s call for unity–already the apparent motor of the Biden administration–and insist on division from within the sites where people think. 

Extending the Partisan tendency would allow us to construct an organization of militants from within our existing 90k member organization of “official socialist organizers.” To do this without reference to the party would allow us to pursue the collective subjectivization required to construct and advance an emancipatory politics at a distance from the state. While confronting the state will be inevitable, we are currently not in any way equipped to do so. This includes sending our forces “behind enemy lines” to hold elected office or using the publicity of elections to build an organization. Nevermind the fact that an emancipatory politics cannot be reconciled with managing capitalist exploitation and ecological collapse, the prerequisite to utilizing the spectacle of elections and other political institutions, the prerequisite to entering the structure of so-called representative democracy, is a committed core of militants. This is something we simply do not have, but it is something we can create. To suggest otherwise–to say that we do not need a committed core or that one currently exists–is to argue that opportunism is a substitute for politics and that politics must be synonymous with power. Similarly, if our problem is fragmentation, then a growth in membership exacerbates this problem rather than solves it. Ultimately, we must stop attempting to validate our movement through electoral success and paper membership. We must construct our politics on our own terms. It is the fact that these terms cannot be reconciled with the existing order that makes them politics.

As I believe Parkinson said during his discussion with the CPGB, right now we do not need to go to the masses. This is counter-intuitive but it is true. The immediate task is consolidating our forces to determine our commitments so we can give people something new to think about: the thought of politics. And this politics will only be something worth thinking about if it says that everyone has the capacity to think and self-govern. That everyone has the capacity to decide and that we will come together as equals to do what we are constantly denied. We will make a decision.

Advancing the Partisan tendency in the present by consolidating a Marxist bloc seems the best available path to producing an emancipatory movement. It is an insistence on what is partisan, on what divides, that makes possible the collective decision to end capitalist exploitation, ecological armageddon, and mass depoliticization. We cannot wait for liberals to agree with us. We cannot wait for the streets to fill or for a sufficient number of socialists to take office. We cannot wait for exploratory discussions to produce a pre-party organization and for the pre-party organization to produce the party and for the party to develop a revolutionary consciousness in the masses so we can be in the correct position in a revolutionary situation to engage in the art of insurrection. We must organize now. We must consolidate now. We must advance our position from the premises already in existence. This begins with collectively posing the question of the subject in the present, rather than calling for a future party.

 

Escaping the Labour Left ‘Safety Valve’: Towards Dual Power in Britain

Is the UK Labour Party a possible vehicle for working-class emancipation? Alfie Hancox argues in the negative, posing the regroupment of communists independent of the Labour Party as an alternative. 

‘The belief in the effective transformation of the Labour Party into an instrument of socialist policies is the most crippling of all illusions to which socialists in Britain have been prone.’

 Ralph Miliband, ‘Moving On’ (1976)

Regroupment on the left

After five years of being swept up in Corbyn mania, socialists in Britain are faced with a rather dismal balance sheet. In retrospect a defining feature of the Labour left revival was its relentless draining of grassroots activist energies in the service of a permanent campaign footing, along with a collective biting of tongues while Labour councils across the country continued to implement cruel austerity measures. Corbyn’s perpetual compromises, not least on the issues of NATO imperialism and racist immigration controls, were blithely accepted on pragmatic grounds as sacrifices necessary for electoral success. A year has now passed since Labour’s general election defeat and the party’s subsequent reversion to Blairism, but parliamentary maneuvering continues to occupy center stage in socialist discourse. At a time of accelerating inequality which demands working-class unity against the capitalist onslaught, the left remains aimless and fragmented. There’s been worryingly little organized opposition to Tory wage freezes, the crackdown on trade union rights, and cuts to the health and social care sectors, which have had lethal consequences in the viral pandemic context.

There has nevertheless been some shakeup and rethinking within the radical left milieu, facilitated by the exoduses in 2013 in response to sexual violence cover-ups in the Socialist Workers Party (SWP) and the Socialist Party (formerly Militant), as well as smaller splits from several nominally-‘Communist’ groups from 2016, in response to extreme anti-LGBTI+ attitudes (especially transphobia), national chauvinism and abuse apologia. The reconfigurations have led to networks of socialists which tend to be younger and socially progressive, committed to organizational democracy, disillusioned with the monomania of electoral ultimatums, and more attuned to the realities of working-class precarity. It is these issues that comprise the most significant fault lines within the left, rather than the old sectarian divisions inherited from the Cold War era. Among the new formations are Revolutionary Socialism in the 21st Century (rs21), formed by ex-members of the SWP, which defines itself as ‘a socialist, feminist and anti-racist organization’; Red Fightback, a non-dogmatic and intersectional communist (‘Marxist-Leninist’) group; and Anti*Capitalist Resistance (a recent merger of Socialist Resistance and Mutiny). There is also a more diffuse extra-parliamentary left including collectives organizing against carceral and border violence, small trade unions representing precarious workers and migrants, and organizations in the autonomist and left-communist traditions like Angry Workers of the World.

In the immediate term, there is thus a need to crystallize through dialogue and pragmatic organizational unity a forward-thinking revolutionary socialist movement, rather than endlessly seeking, from a position of relative weakness, diplomatic fronts with reformist leaders in which political differences are submerged. The last thing that’s needed is more of the ramshackle broad left coalitions (the Socialist Labour Party, Respect, Socialist Alliance, Left Unity etc.) which have invariably sought to ‘replace New Labourism with one or another version of old Labourism.’ Conversely, attempting to construct in splendid isolation new ‘vanguard parties’, based on fetishized notions of ideological unity in lieu of mass roots, will simply reproduce the old harmful patterns of sectarianism, abuse, and political irrelevancy. There may be scope for the progressive socialist networks to coalesce around a minimum revolutionary programme, purposefully differentiated from the moderate state-capitalist policies of the Labour left – i.e., a reassertion of the traditional communist united front approach.

In North America, the Marxist Center ‘base building’ initiative, for all its limitations (some of which are discussed below), has succeeded in bringing together socialists from an unprecedented number of tendencies, and represents ‘a serious commitment to centering revolutionary praxis above leftist infighting and bickering.’ The embryonic British Marxist Centre should aspire to fulfil a similar function. It can draw inspiration from the example of the foundation of the original Communist Party of Great Britain one hundred years ago, which brought together surprisingly divergent forces including syndicalists, ‘left communists’, anti-colonial militants and British Bolsheviks, with the shared aim of approaching a critical mass of committed revolutionaries necessary to have a qualitative impact on the class balance of forces in the country. As Sai Englert stresses in his thoughtful ‘Notes on Organisation’, any attempted construction of a new socialist unity must simultaneously acknowledge ‘that rejecting the old divisions that have plagued the socialist left will not make important political differences disappear … the aim should be to achieve practical unity wherever possible, while maintaining political tension and disagreement.’

We’re at a historical flashpoint with world capitalism slipping ever deeper into systemic crisis, which makes it all the more pressing to re-establish a strategic orientation towards building counter-power and planting deep roots in working-class communities, rather than hedging all our bets on the next election cycle. Conceptual clarity on the specific nature and role of the ‘left-wing’ of reformism is critical, in light of the organizational setbacks that occurred during the Corbyn years. The euphoria at the surprise 2015 breach in the neoliberal status quo meant there was no sober assessment of the politics of the Labour left, and the moderating role it has historically played in relation to working-class struggle. Of specific relevance for the Marxist Centre project, it is also important to avoid the temptation of viewing community organizing as in itself some kind of shortcut out of the pitfalls of gradualism and opportunism. Political lines of demarcation remain necessary to prevent base building from becoming just another avenue of front work for reformist politicians, a problem which has arisen in the US context in relation to the Democratic Socialists of America (DSA).

The terminal sickness of Labourism

Decades of normalized despair under neoliberal hegemony blindsided the extra-parliamentary left to the treachery of social democracy, or what the New Left theorist Ralph Miliband referred to as the ‘sickness of Labourism’.1 As Carson Rainham notes in The Lever, ‘the energy poured into the Labour Party since 2015 by the radical and liberal Left felt necessary but only because it arose from the desperate state of the left-wing politics in Britain which still lacks any semblance of political power or organisational method.’ The ‘cult of non-personality’ that grew around Corbyn obscured how he was propelled to the Labour leadership upon a groundswell of existing anti-austerity sentiment, which was subsequently demobilized by being redirected into electoralism. Even Plan C, a libertarian-communist organization, ended up encouraging its supporters to cast their votes for old Labour-style state ‘socialism’. The myopic obsession with parliamentary activity lingers on, with groups like Socialist Appeal calling for continued agitation inside Labour to get Corbyn reinstated as an MP. The prevailing view that we must abstain from criticizing Corbynism for fear of strengthening the Labour right is precisely the outlook that maintains the British left’s eternal farce, of assuming the end goal of a ‘socialist’ Labour government justifies the most self-defeating means: permanent class collaborationism, equivocations and lesser evil-ism, betrayal of proletarian internationalism, and the erasure of ‘left’ reformists’ longstanding occupation as unwitting agents of the ruling class.

We need to be clear that Labour has never been a ‘centrist’ party like the German Independent Social Democratic Party (USPD), straddling a line between reform and revolution. Lenin correctly recognized Labour as a ‘thoroughly bourgeois party, because, although made up of workers, it is led by reactionaries, and the worst kind of reactionaries at that, who act quite in the spirit of the bourgeoisie’. A common mistake among British Marxists is to extrapolate Lenin’s point in “Left-Wing” Communism: An Infantile Disorder about the need for communists to agitate within conservative trade unions – which entails combating ‘spontaneous’ economism and sectionalism – as applicable to engagement with reformist political parties. Trade union officials are at one remove from the immediate class struggle, and under pressure from the rank-and-file can be forced leftwards and sometimes even be brought into confrontation with Labour governments (as during the Winter of Discontent in 1978-9). The Labour Party, however, was from its inception twice removed from struggles at the point of production.2

Strikers during the Winter of Discontent

‘Socialist’ politicians in Labour do not represent the working class; rather they have traditionally attempted to mediate between the conservative trade union bureaucracy and the bourgeois establishment. They remain committed to class compromise under the rubric of ‘national unity’, and do not side with workers against the capitalist state – the ruling-class dictatorship – which is why, despite their frequent radical phraseology and apparent conflict with Labour’s right wing (especially when the party is in opposition), they are routinely complicit in the crushing of independent working-class action. 

The Labour left is loyal firstly to the Labour Party, which is in turn loyal to capitalism. Left Labourites have no coherent ideology of their own; they live ‘in a dream-world in which block vote millions take the place of the flesh and blood millions outside the conference chamber and committee room, in which the radical policy resolution substitutes for the real struggle of class against class.’3 As Mike Macnair puts it: ‘The Labour left, to the extent that it remains within the circle of nationalism, legalism and class-collaboration, is umbilically tied to the right.’ The rapid adaption of the early Labour Party to the disciplinary operations of the bourgeois parliamentary arena effectively defanged an entire generation of radical trade union leaders. Upon being elected as Labour MPs, the Red Clydesiders who had once ‘struck terror in the hearts of the upper class’ displayed ‘but the palest reflection of that earlier militancy.’ Likewise, the Labour MP George Lansbury who made a name for himself in the early 1920s as the hero of municipal socialism, defying the punitive government attacks on poverty relief, had by 1925 put his hopes in electoral action and called off a strike by council workers.4

Marxists defending their political dependence on the Labour Party will inevitably refer to how in 1920 Lenin instructed the newly-formed British Communist Party (CPGB) to attempt to affiliate with Labour. However, this was a strictly tactical gambit, based on Lenin’s (rather questionable) assessment that Labour was still a flexible political federation, in which revolutionaries would retain ‘sufficient freedom to write that certain leaders of the Labour Party are traitors … [and] agents of the bourgeoisie in the working-class movement.’ In the ten decades since Lenin’s death, a defining feature of most ‘revolutionary’ groups in Britain laying claim to Leninist doctrine has been their replacement of Lenin’s tactical formulation with its ensemble of caveats, by a pursuit of strategic alliances with the ‘left-wing’ of (often governing) reformism, in which key political differences are submerged. Lenin had recognized the need to continually expose the brand of opportunists who ‘flaunt before the workers’ high-sounding phrases about recognizing revolution but as far as deeds are concerned go no farther than adopting a purely reformist attitude’; emphasizing how the capitalist class ‘needs hirelings who enjoy the trust of a section of the working class, whitewash and prettify the bourgeoisie with talk about the reformist path being possible, throw dust in the eyes of the people by such talk, and divert the people from revolution’. This duplicity was exemplified by the Labour pioneer (and Corbyn’s idol) Keir Hardie, a self-professed Marxist who could talk left when it suited, for instance claiming his party was ‘revolutionary in the fullest sense of the word’, while simultaneously reassuring the capitalists by stating that ‘it is a degradation of the Socialist movement to drag it down to the level of a mere struggle for supremacy between two contending factions. We don’t want “class conscious” Socialists.’ 

After Lenin’s death in early 1924, Leon Trotsky elaborated the analysis of ‘left-wing’ reformism in his writings on the ‘Problems of the British Labour Movement’ (1925-6). Trotsky was able to pinpoint how Labour lefts ‘reflect the lethargy of the British working class’, converting workers’ emancipatory aspirations into ‘left phrases of opposition’ that place no real obligations on the pro-capitalist reformers. He explained that the Labour left functions as ‘a sort of safety valve for the radical mood of the masses’, by channelling ‘the political feebleness of the awakening masses into an ideological mish-mash. They represent the expression of a shift but also its brake.’ This moderating role was apparent during the climax of interwar class struggle in Britain: the General Strike of 1926, in which several million workers struck for nine days, withstanding acute state repression, only to be sold out by the Labour and Trades Union Council (TUC) leaderships. While communists played a central role in the Councils of Action at the local level, the CPGB, under the direction of the Communist International (Comintern), made a crucial strategic error in failing to expose the reactionary role of the reformist leaders. This was despite the fact that the 1924 Labour administration had paved the way for the ruling-class reaction, by setting in motion the Emergency Powers Act enabling the government to use troops against workers.

The CPGB’s muted criticism of Labour was based on its desire not to alienate TUC and Labour Party ‘lefts’ like George Hicks and Albert Purcell. However, when the Labour Party headquarters spearheaded the anti-communist witch hunts in 1924-5 the foremost left-wing Labour politicians, including Hicks and Purcell, had sided with the right and backed the expulsion of CPGB members, while Lansbury denounced communist sympathizers as ‘wreckers’. It was only in the aftermath of the Strike that the communists issued a declaration pointing out that the left reformists ‘were only with the miners while it was a question of phrases and resolutions … When the crisis came they ran away.’5 The experience demonstrated that Trotsky was correct to recognize that ‘in certain circumstances, the Labour left was actually more dangerous than the out and out imperialists such as [Ramsay] MacDonald and [J.H.] Thomas in that they misled the workers, providing left cover for the right only to betray the workers equally badly when the crunch came.’ Trotsky also predicted that if the Labour left did get into power it would immediately capitulate to the right, and indeed when Lansbury inherited the Labour leadership in 1932 he pursued a policy of ‘MacDonaldism without MacDonald’, and blocked proposals that Labour-controlled councils refuse to enforce the draconian Means Test on unemployment relief.6

It must be said, however, that in subsequent years Trotsky’s analysis of Labour became rather confused. His politics were overdetermined by his break with the Comintern, after which he often mirrored its policy vacillations. During the Third Period (1928-35) when the Comintern’s foreign policy veered sharply to the left, Trotsky lurched in the other direction and eventually began claiming Labour was not a ‘bourgeois labour party’ (as Lenin argued) but ‘a workers’ party’ which should be ‘critically supported’ (including against the Communist Party!) because, unlike the governing Tories, it ‘represented the working class masses’.7 Trotsky also, like Lenin, harboured millenarian expectations that a general crisis of capitalism would engender the rapid demise of reformism, and as early as 1926 he claimed that ‘Much less time will be needed to turn the Labour Party into a revolutionary one than was necessary to create it’ – in hindsight a ludicrous statement that has nevertheless been seized upon by Trotskyist advocates of ‘entryism’ in Labour like Rob Sewell. Typically, the surviving Labourphilic Trotskyist parties today produce very selective agitational materials omitting ‘any of Trotsky’s extremely sharp polemics with his supporters on when to leave reformist organizations and of the opportunism of those who did not.’

The lack of conceptual clarity on the nature of reformism expressed by both the post-Lenin Comintern and Trotsky has contributed to endless confusion about the true role of the Labour left. The existing Communist Party of Britain (a splinter group that survived the original CPGB’s self-liquidation in 1991) laments the historical ‘predominance of the social-democratic trend over the socialist trend’ within Labour, with the latter supposedly being hostile to monopoly capitalism.8 Likewise, Socialist Appeal, a successor to the Militant Tendency, states there are ‘two Labour parties’ and that ‘The Labour Party’s right-wing always considered the Marxist left a threat to their pro-capitalist policies … It is no accident that Stafford Cripps [one of the founders of Tribune] was expelled at the Labour Party conference in 1938, and Aneurin Bevan had the whip withdrawn’. The reality of this supposed ‘Marxist left’ was less than heroic. Immediately after the Second World War the new Labour government-imposed wage constraints and efficiency measures in the nationalised industries, provoking a series of industrial disputes. From 1945-51, Labour declared two states emergency and on 18 different occasions deployed troops to take over strikers’ jobs. In secret, the government also revived the Supply and Transport Organisation, used two decades earlier to undermine the General Strike, with the active involvement of prominent ‘left wingers’ including both Cripps and Bevan, who sat on the Ministerial Emergencies Committee in 1945, and was briefly Minister of Labour in 1951. Even the champion of ‘democratic socialism’, Tony Benn, oversaw the closure of 48 power stations in defiance of the National Union of Mineworkers when he was Energy Minister in 1977-6 (he also signed a deal to extract uranium from apartheid-ruled Namibia).9 When it comes to the treachery of reformists it is useless to talk of ‘betrayal’. As the above historical overview has demonstrated, when it comes down to the crunch even the most ‘left-wing’ Labour leaders will sacrifice the working class on the altar of ‘party unity’ or ‘the national interest’.

Winston Churchill and Clement Attlee, 1945.

Miliband once observed that ‘people on the left who have set out with the intention of transforming the Labour Party have more often than not ended up being transformed by it’. For example, the post-war Communist Party dropped its programme for working-class revolution in favor of seeking ‘progressive’ parliamentary coalitions, and by the 1970s it had relegated its role to that of a think tank for the class-collaborationist policies associated with the Labour left’s ‘Alternative Economic Strategy’. Another extreme example of adaptation to reformism was the entryist Militant Tendency, which pursued a ‘legal revolution’ in the form of full nationalization. Entryism was born in the 1930s as a pragmatic response to the extreme weakness of Trotsky’s supporters vis-à-vis both communist and centrist parties in Europe. It was only meant to be a temporary measure carried out until the Trotskyists found their feet, although a desperate Trotsky certainly exaggerated the prospects for success. In its pursuance of ‘deep entryism’, Militant became politically indistinguishable from the Labour left whose coattails it clung to, and infamously wound up condemning oppressed communities fighting the police and army in the north of Ireland and Britain’s inner cities. As Trotsky put it, ‘even in the minds of “socialists” the fetishism of bourgeois legality [forms] that ideal inner policeman.’ 

A more subtle approach to Labour was pursued by the Socialist Workers Party, which adopted an ‘open party’ perspective that in theory preserved its political independence. However, the SWP’s economistic obsession with ‘workers’ self-activity’, inherited from its early pre-party years, created a tendency to gloss over ‘the political problem of how to break the hold that Labourism has over workers, and implies that bigger and better strikes and demonstrations alone will provide the solution to the question of working-class consciousness.’10 The SWP’s permanent slogan ‘vote Labour without illusions’ is rather more passive than Lenin’s call to support Labour ‘as a rope supports a hanging man’ (or the communist Tommy Jackson’s promise to take Labour leaders by the hand ‘as a preliminary to taking them by the throat’). In practice, the SWP has sought endless broad fronts with Labour lefts (e.g. the Anti-Nazi League and Stop the War Coalition) in which its approach is to ‘fudge differences by diplomatic agreement to windy generalities, [or] self-censor and thereby pretend that there is more agreement than there actually is.’ Donald Parkinson identifies a similar trend in North America in relation to joint campaigns between Leninist groups like the Party for Socialism and Liberation, and the reformist Democratic Socialists. Likewise, one of the founders of the US Marxist Center has complained of a tendency among the affiliated organisations to ‘just focus on local shit’ and avoid political struggle against the hapless left-liberal leaders of the DSA.11 

There is of course still a need for socialists to have some engagement with mass reformist organisations, and we can’t ignore the fact that Labour ‘could recruit hundreds of thousands of working-class members over a period of five years without ever turning these into active members’. But any such engagement must be aimed at crystallizing, not diluting, an unofficial Left Wing movement opposed to the social-democratic opportunism of the scab ‘soft’ left leaders like Corbyn and McDonnell. As Trotsky explained, ‘One must seek a way to the reformist masses not through the favor of their leaders, but against the leaders, because opportunist leaders represent not the masses but merely their backwardness, their servile instincts and, finally, their confusion.’ It is a shame that British Trotskyists have generally failed to heed their prophet’s own sound advice, that: ‘The Communist Party can prepare itself for the leading role only by a ruthless criticism of all the leading staff of the British labour movement and only by a day-to-day exposure of its conservative, anti-proletarian, imperialist, monarchist and lackeyish role in all spheres of social life and the class movement.’

Five wasted years

Since 2015, the left has been hamstrung by its failure to recall the painful lessons learned under old Labour. Corbyn’s ‘radicalism’ was severely overstated by both supporters and detractors, given that Labour had won office on more left-wing platforms in the 1970s. Corbynomics essentially presented a programme for capitalist growth based on technological innovation, with John McDonnell invoking ‘the Entrepreneurial State’ and ‘socialism with an iPad’. McDonnell quickly dropped his initial talk of nationalizing all the main banks, in favor of ‘people’s quantitative easing’ through a single state investment bank which, as Marxist economist Michael Roberts points out, is hardly extreme when there is already a European Investment Bank, a Nordic Investment Bank and many others, ‘all capitalised by states or groups of states for the purpose of financing mandated projects by borrowing in the capital markets’. McDonnell’s industrial strategy took its lead from ‘such uncompromisingly capitalist regimes as Singapore, South Korea, Japan – and most of all, the United States.’12 In any case state ownership does not amount to workers’ control, and neither does putting a few workers on company boards to involve them in the planning of their own exploitation.

Throughout the Labour Party’s history, a reinvigorated left-wing has served the function of successfully drawing disillusioned radicals back into the party’s orbit. To many ‘revolutionary’ socialists, the Labour left appears as a ‘bridge’ to the party’s rank-and-file; but as Miliband wrote the bridge ‘does not, so to speak, open out leftwards but rightwards’. The Bevanite politician Richard Crossman admitted the illusory character of democratic pressure on Labour, explaining how the party ‘required militants, politically conscious socialists to do the work of organizing the constituencies’; hence the utility of a party constitution ‘which maintained their enthusiasm by apparently creating a full party democracy while excluding them from effective power’.13 The same drive to assimilate and defang characterized Corbynism, with its notion of creating a ‘social movement party’ or what McDonnell described as ‘going into government together’. The grassroots anti-austerity campaigns that arose post-2010 were undermined when young socialists once again flocked into a Labour Party intent on implementing cuts at the council level. Corbyn supporters mourning the ‘inexplicable’ defeat of Laura Pidcock, the ‘anti-austerity’ candidate for North West Durham, at the 2019 general election were presumably unaware that as councillor for Northumberland she voted for £36m worth of spending cuts in 2017-20. In the 1980s left-wing Labour councils at least offered some resistance with their policy of ‘three noes’ – no cuts, no rent rises, no rate rises – although they were soon enough called to heel by Neil Kinnock.

Labour appropriates and disposes of activists’ demands as proves convenient: the Labour Campaign for Free Movement poured its efforts into securing a nonbinding resolution and was subsequently ‘betrayed’ by the 2019 manifesto, as was the campaign to get Labour to commit to net-zero carbon emissions by 2030. Corbynism even reinforced the passivity of left-wing trade unions like the FBU, which re-capitulated to their traditional ‘don’t rock the boat and ruin Labour’s electoral chances’ posture. Englert notes that investing all hopes and energies into the Labour left ‘leads activists all around us to pessimisms, demobilization, and/or – much worse – a moralistic sense of superiority that dismisses the very people on which the success of our struggles depends, as inherently reactionary, backward, or unorganizable.’ This accounts for the emotive social media displays of Labour canvassers lashing out at working-class voters in the wake of the December 2019 election.

The idea of a ‘democratic grassroots’ undergirding Corbynism was also frequently overstated. Momentum, led (and to a considerable extent owned) by millionaire-property developer Jon Lansman, was always relatively small, fractured and politically moderate. As Tom Blackburn writes in New Socialist, after ‘four-and-a-half years of acrid civil war, both the structures of the [Labour Party] and the political composition of the Parliamentary Labour Party remain essentially unchanged’; mirroring the failure of Benn’s Campaign for Labour Party Democracy in the 1970s, the error of which was to assume there was ever a possibility of democratization ‘in and against’ the capitalist state machine. As for the post-Lansman factions, they have all fallen into the trap of viewing ‘the causes of defeat in cultural or organizational issues, and refuse to acknowledge the real failure – a series of political errors’. The Forward Momentum splinter has committed to democratising a Labour Party in which the iron grip of Keir Starmer’s right-wing has been consolidated. As Richard Seymour points out, if what these groups want is a genuinely democratic Labour Party ‘they will be trying to bring about something that has never before existed, and which goes against all the dominant tendencies in parliamentary democracy.’14 

Socialist Appeal has boldly proclaimed that ‘Corbyn’s serious mistake was not to move immediately after his election to purge the party of the right-wing Trojan horse in the parliamentary Labour Party’ – as if Corbyn (or any other left Labourite) ever possessed either the means or motivation to do so. Again, this framing is part of the eternal Labour left mythos, just like in 1988 when the Labour leadership contest between Benn and Kinnock (who paved the way for Blairism) was ‘portrayed by the bourgeois press and most of the ostensibly socialist left as a David and Goliath battle for the “socialist soul” of the party’ – upon his narrow defeat Benn and his followers of course immediately called for ‘unity’ with the right. Similar conciliatory attitudes were expressed by left-wing MPs when Corbyn was suspended in October by the Labour leadership, for pointing out the political motives underlying many of the allegations in the EHRC anti-Semitism report. McDonnell called Corbyn’s suspension ‘profoundly wrong’, but cravenly added that ‘my appeal is not the launch of some civil war or for members to leave the party … My appeal is for unity.’ Dianne Abbott likewise affirmed that ‘the priority right now for everyone in our party is to come together’, while another eminent Socialist Campaign Group MP, Nadia Whittome, stated she ‘cannot agree’ with Corbyn’s stance. 

Right-wing witch hunts date from Labour’s earliest days, initially targeting CPGB members. Cripps and Bevan were both kicked out in 1939 for advocating a Popular Front with the communists; however they soon gained readmission after agreeing ‘to refrain from conducting or taking part in campaigns in opposition to the declared policy of the Party.’ In 1961 Michael Foot was expelled from the Parliamentary Labour Party when he rebelled over air force spending, but two decades later, as Labour leader, he embraced NATO and backed Thatcher’s imperialist war in the Falklands. Corbyn himself has now put out a grovelling statement pledging to ‘fully support Keir Starmer’s decision to accept all the EHRC recommendations’ and to ‘do what [he] can to help the Party move on … and unite to oppose and defeat this deeply damaging Conservative government.’ Obviously, even the soft left should be defended against the forces of overt reaction – since as Trotsky noted, the ruling class’s fear is that ‘behind the mock-heroic threats’ of reformist leaders there ‘lies concealed a real danger from the deeply stirring proletarian masses.’ But at the same time we are not obliged to cover for reformists’ opportunist vacillations and self-delusions, which only helps them maintain their parasitic vice over the more politically-conscious sections of the working class.

Shapurji Saklatvala, Communist MP and critic of Labour’s imperialist politics.

All this is not to argue that anti-electoralism should be made into a dogma. Under certain conditions, the parliamentary arena can be weaponized by socialists for agitational purposes, as with Karl Liebknecht’s heroic stand against the imperialist First World War in the German Reichstag; or the fiery House of Commons speeches by the British communist MP Shapurji Saklatvala, condemning Labour’s ‘enlightened’ colonial policy. However in general when it comes to electoral work, the Comintern’s guidelines laid down at its Second Congress remain applicable, namely that communist MPs must ‘subordinate all their parliamentary work to the extra-parliamentary work of their Party’; and must not only expose the bourgeoisie, but also ‘systematically and relentlessly’ expose reformists and centrists – communist MPs are principally agitators ‘in the enemy camp’. The socialist movement firstly needs its own infrastructure and political independence, in order to be able to engage with reformists from a position of relative strength. As Macnair summarises:

‘Marxists, who wish to oppose the present state rather than to manage it loyally, can then only be in partial unity with the loyalist [i.e. reformist] wing of the workers’ movement. We can bloc with them on particular issues. We can and will take membership in parties and organisations they control – and violate their constitutional rules and discipline – in order to fight their politics. But we have to organise ourselves independently of them. That means that we need our own press, finances, leadership committees, conferences, branches and other organisations.’

Counter-power and the long revolution

The revolutionary left in Britain has lost its nerve and its capacity for strategic thinking. 

Intensifying inter-imperialist antagonisms and the climate crisis ensure an existential sense of urgency, but we can’t lose our heads and seek out revolutionary shortcuts, as happened with the Comintern in the turbulent years between the world wars. The economic conditions that enabled the ‘golden era’ of social-democratic ascendency are a relic of the past, but reformist consciousness does not mechanically disappear. Trotsky, in one of his more sober insights, noted of crisis-ridden Britain in the 1930s that ‘the political superstructure of this arch-conservative country extraordinarily lags behind the changes in its economic basis.’ Political tactics must be appropriate to the particular national conjuncture of class struggle. As against the CPGB’s Popular Front policy, Trotsky recognised that pursuing diplomatic unity with ‘progressive’ reformists and liberals as a preventative against fascisation was an absurdity that only weakened the position of the British working class, at a time of sharpening social antagonisms. The arrival of classical fascism is only possible after a ‘decisive victory of the bourgeoisie over the working class’, as in Italy and Germany; but ‘the great struggles in Britain [were] not behind us, rather ahead of us.’ In a context like today in which the fascist danger is ‘still in the third or fourth stage away’, Trotsky rightly argued that:

‘British reformism is the main hindrance now to the liberation [of the British proletariat] … The policy of a united front with reformists is obligatory but it is of necessity limited to partial tasks, especially to defensive struggles. There can be no thought of making the socialist revolution in a united front with reformist organizations. The principal task of a revolutionary party consists in freeing the working class from the influence of reformism.’

This is why uncritically supporting Corbyn at all costs as a path of lesser evil in the face of Tory savagery was self-defeating. Our strategic outlook should be that which would’ve been most appropriate for the CPGB in the post-1926 period of revolutionary downturn, namely a ‘practice based on attempting to build a solid, stable core of revolutionaries with an eye more for the horizon than for the next strike’ (or election cycle).15 Lenin explained how Bolshevik success in toppling Tsardom in 1917 owed to the fact that for many years legal and illegal networks and structures were ‘systematically built up to direct demonstrations and strikes’. The problem is that in Britain today the culture and infrastructure of working-class resistance has been completely hollowed out, and needs to be rebuilt from the ground up. 

The idea of socialists getting rooted in working-class communities is of course not novel. The CPGB in the 1920s-30s managed to establish ‘Little Moscows’ in mining towns such as West Fife, Rhondda and the Vale of Leven: ‘The local Communist parties of these industrial villages were deeply integrated with every aspect of the community’s social life and culture as well as exercising their strengths in the workplace.’16 Agitation around wages, poor relief, and housing was coupled with the creation of red schools, sports leagues, and even music bands. There are a number of avenues today for building ‘dual power’ alongside the existing capitalist state, such as shop-floor committees, mutual aid societies, educational groups, trade and tenant unions, various anti-austerity campaigns, and migrant support networks. It’s also encouraging to see the emergence of new communist publications committed to producing analysis and theory that transcends the ossified twentieth-century dogmas of ‘official’ Marxism-Leninism, including Ebb Magazine, Cosmonaut, and The Lever. Dual power strategy should further address the role of working people’s councils at the district level. The surviving ‘Leninist’ parties in Britain have largely forgotten the need for independent working-class self-organisation capable of displacing the capitalist state machine, amounting to a paradoxical situation of ‘Bolsheviks without soviets’

While the necessarily protracted nature of building counter-power is clear, this does not imply a return to the pre-1917 Kautskyan gradualism that is currently being promoted by Marxist theorists in the DSA including Eric Blanc. For ‘democratic socialists’ like Blanc, the state itself is seen as a zone of class struggle autonomous of capitalism. Teresa Kalisz of Red Bloom, another US Marxist Center affiliate, has also recently advocated a path between social democracy and revolutionary insurrection by drawing on the writings of the late E.O. Wright, who called for socialists to ‘control the capitalist state apparatus (or at least parts of it) and to use that apparatus systematically in the attack on capitalist state power itself.’17 The problem with this argument is that once within the existing state machinery, political organisations (like Labour) are ‘bound by thousands of threads’ to the dictates of capital accumulation and the reactionary governing bureaucracy, as the entire history of democratic socialism in practice has demonstrated. And behind the trappings of bourgeois parliament and the entrenched state bureaucracy as the first line of defense against working-class insurgency, there still stand the forces of the courts, police, and military – ‘the “bodies of armed men” which guarantee the power of the state whichever government is nominally in office.’18 The capitalists will never willingly give up power, and as Sophia Burns puts it socialism ‘isn’t a gradual process where reforms (or mutualist co-ops!) stack on top of each other until one morning, you wake up to find that capitalism is gone.’ There remains the inescapable question of the point of total rupture, or insurrection, beyond dual power to the replacement of the capitalist dictatorship with a workers’ government. 

As capitalist violence is centralized through the state and cannot just be dismantled at the local level, there is still a need for some kind of general revolutionary (i.e. not broad left) organization on a national basis – an independent workers’ party. The American Marxist Center provides a useful model in bringing regionally-dispersed dual power initiatives together in a shared network, and enabling socialists of various leanings to begin to identify strategic points of unity. Ideally the British MC, in addition to foregrounding practical alternatives to parliamentary canvassing, will similarly function as a political centre that encourages dialogue between existing progressive tendencies. There is a pressing need to work towards a new socialist unity in diversity, in contrast to the ideological uniformity of the old sects. As Parkinson and Parker McQueeney have argued in the US context:

‘A party is simply an organization of political actors organized around a certain strategy and vision for change: a program. It is essential that the Marxist Center does not become another micro-sect that clings to a certain theoretical vision of Marxism with a priori shibboleths that define the group’s politics, whether Marxist-Leninist, Trotskyist, left-communist, etc. The organization must be internally democratic and oriented towards building working class political power independent from the bourgeois parties. Without this, any debates over the correct political line, while potentially useful intellectual exercises, will be effectively pointless.’

As suggested in the beginning of this article, there is in Britain a socialism that is dying and a socialism that must be reborn. In the first instance, however, this necessary regenerative process can only materialise through the recognition that the bourgeois Labour Party – ‘left’ flank included – never was and never will be anything but a brake on working-class liberation. The rupture in the oppressive logic of capitalist realism which 2015 heralded was of course itself extremely significant, and as the editorial collective of The Lever state:

‘Our task now, is not to let the dreams of emancipation which fuelled the Corbyn movement wither in defeat. We must steel ourselves, and divert these energies into building real counter-power, into long term revolutionary institutions, to re-build a base for an emancipatory politics, and one that can be lead into a revolutionary confrontation with the current system.’

The Mass Line as an Emancipatory Politics

Cam W responds to the recent debate between Taylor B and Donald Parkinson, outlining a Maoist approach to politics based on the mass line as an alternative to their positions. 

A century and a half ago, Marx closed the Communist Manifesto with what has become one of the most popular slogans in recent political history. He declared that, in order to overthrow the fledgling capitalist system, “workers of the world [must] unite.”1 And yet here we are, in 2020, still stuck in capitalism’s deathly grip and not even close to achieving the unity needed to break free from its grasp. 

However, this doesn’t mean that no progress has been made. The time between the Manifesto and now has been marked by intense struggles all over the world. We’ve seen the radical experiment of the Paris Commune, the rise and fall of the Soviet Union, the Chinese Revolution, revolutions throughout the Global South, and plenty of revolutionary activity in the imperial core. And yet, none of those revolutions have come even close to shifting their political terrain towards communism, and any of the surviving projects have either drifted towards capitalism or are held hostage by the imperialists. In the US, we now find ourselves in the same position as millions of communists before us. How can we finally overthrow capitalism and move towards the communist terrain? We may answer this question by looking towards the past, but the problem is that history, a site of class struggle itself, hangs over us like a dark cloud. It muddles our perceptions and moves us away from a sober analysis of our concrete situation. With the added influence of the internet, it makes people adopt political positions, accompanied by various signifiers and aesthetics, that have no real concrete bearing on the class struggle. 

We are hurtling towards a future marked by intense crises that will expose the deep cracks that exist within the capitalist system. The capitalist system cannot continue without dragging mass death along with it, whether through disease, war, or environmental displacement, and the only solution is revolution. 

In  Beginnings of Politics, Taylor B argues that the growth of DSA, coupled with the immense uprisings that took place over the summer, are both beginnings of a new form of emancipatory politics.2 Taylor argues that Marxist theory contains a gap, which is the absence of a method for achieving emancipatory politics. While Marxism, “gives us critical tools to understand the capitalist mode of production, the insight that emancipation is immanent to the system through class struggle, and a concept of the transition to communism formulated by Marx as the dictatorship of the proletariat,” it does not tell us the concrete organizational forms needed to achieve these politics. So how do we figure out the kinds of organizational forms we need to achieve our politics? One solution would be to look at prior revolutionary activity, both in the US and abroad, and follow their lead politically. However, and this is at the core of Marxism, the world is always changing. The social formations that comprise the global capitalist system are very different now compared to a century ago. Therefore, the way the class struggle unfolds in our time will necessarily be different from the experiences of our predecessors. In this context, it would be a mistake to dogmatically insist on old forms of organization: forms that were designed as specific interventions within specific struggles. Taylor says, “this is the Marxist problem of politics that must be theorized under the conditions of the current moment, or conjuncture.” 

Taylor criticizes the tendency of those on the left to insist on old forms of organization in the current conjuncture. The current conjuncture was born out of the neutralization of emancipatory politics in the 1960s, which is dubbed as the ‘The Black Power Era’. This was the last significant sequence of emancipatory politics in the US. According to Taylor, there were three neutralizing forces of this movement: 

    1. The formation of a black middle-class created by an increase in social welfare from the government to appease the Civil Rights movement. 
    2. State repression of radicals, specifically members of the Black Panther Party via COINTELPRO. 
    3. The absorption of the movement by the mainstream, which neutered its radical content. 

Taylor’s argument echoes Howard Zinn in A People’s History of the United States, who argues that every revolutionary sequence in the US is neutralized by a combination of purging radicals through incarceration or assassination and buying off the movement via minor reforms.3 Taylor concludes, following Sylvain Lazarus, that the 20th century marked the end of the party form as a legitimate form of emancipatory politics. This is not only because political parties, in this case, the Democrats, Republicans, and even the Black Panthers, played a primary role in neutralizing our last emancipatory sequence, but also because the experiences of socialist construction in other parts of the world demonstrated that the vanguard becomes intertwined with the state, which also neutralized emancipatory politics in those social formations. Instead of falling back on neutralized forms of politics, we must conduct a concrete analysis of our concrete situation, the basis of Marxist analysis I might add, in order to develop novel forms of emancipatory politics. 

This new form of emancipatory politics will emerge out of the beginnings provided by the Bernie Sanders movement/growth of DSA and the anti-racist uprisings over the summer. Taylor argues that the rise of DSA and the Bernie Sanders movement demonstrate a common recognition that politics need to go beyond the two-party system. The uprisings, on the other hand, demonstrate a popular anti-racist sentiment throughout the US, which has been directed against the police and the state. While DSA is currently tending towards a couple of different dead-end paths,4 the uprisings represent the potential to resist the neutralization of emancipatory politics. While he does not offer any concrete political form that we ought to build, Taylor concludes that, “we must trust that appropriate emancipatory forms will emerge as we engage in the local, national, and international organizing that this moment makes possible.”

I am sympathetic to Taylor’s general argument that new historical conjunctures necessitate new analyses of the social formation, and, emerging out of this, new modes of politics. This, as I noted earlier, is the immediate task of every Marxist in every social formation. However, Taylor offers us no real solution to the limits of the party-form. He only offers us the vague notion that new forms of political organization will arise out of the current conjuncture through revolutionary practice. In, Without a Party, We Have Nothing, Donald P rightly criticizes him for falling back on a spontaneous conception of revolutionary practice, where it is implied that new emancipatory forms will emerge out of new practices of politics without any planning or strategic outlook developed by revolutionaries beforehand. Following Althusser and Lenin, Donald notes that the absence of an articulated revolutionary theory will be filled by bourgeois ideology, which will itself neutralize these new beginnings.

Donald particularly takes issue with the notion that every major Marxist ruptures from their predecessors. In his piece, Taylor says that, “Marx broke with the utopian socialists. Lenin broke with Marx. The Cultural Revolution can be read as Mao’s break with Marxism-Leninism to free politics from the party-state.” Donald rejects this, arguing that Marx himself had a specific conception of politics, even if it had to be formulated systematically by Engels, Kautsky, and Lenin. Specifically, Lenin’s notion of the party was imported from Kautsky’s merger formula,5 which was developed from the work of Marx and Engels themselves.6 The development of Marxist political practice is defined by continuity, rather than by ruptures, and in the absence of a party, spontaneity will reign. 

While I roughly agree with Taylor’s argument on the limits of Marxism-Leninism and the party-form as a neutralization of emancipatory politics, the solution is not to abandon the party entirely. And by party, I mean the revolutionary organization required to harness and lead the revolution.7 For clarification, I am sure that Taylor is operating with a classical understanding of the ‘party’, while I am focusing more on the function of the party as the revolutionary organization which becomes the vanguard of the revolutionary process. Rather, the solution is to transform the nature of the party through the implementation of the mass line. In a word, we can say that while Taylor emphasizes rupture, Donald stresses continuity. But why not both? 

The Limits of Marxism-Leninism

Before proceeding into the Maoist terrain on the question of the party, it is first necessary to understand the limits of Marxism-Leninism, and as an extension, the party-form. I believe it is also necessary to define the terms ‘Marxism’ and ‘Marxism-Leninism’, considering the historical baggage and plurality of understandings that each term carries. Following J Moufawad Paul’s (JMP) arguments in Continuity and Rupture, I believe that Marxism is the science of revolution.8 In classical theory, the formula is that Marxism = historical materialism (the science) + dialectical materialism (the philosophy). I believe that this dichotomy misunderstands the specificity of what makes Marxism a science. The crux of scientific practice is experimentation, which means that Marxism must be able to test its theories. The only way that Marxism can test its theories, which are produced by historical or dialectical materialist analyses of a social formation, is through political practice.9 So while they are not what makes Marxism scientific per se, historical and dialectical materialism are the scientific methods that make Marxist political practice possible. While I don’t have space here to articulate the specificity of the characteristics of science and Marxism’s claim to it, JMP makes two important claims on the subject.

The first claim is that a science can never be closed off to the future. If it is, it will no longer be capable of producing any knowledge, rendering it obsolete. A science must always be open to further theorization and development in order to be useful. This is compatible with dialectical materialism, which asserts that the world is always changing. In this view, science is a truth process, and not the content which is the end-result of that truth process. Or in other words, science is defined by its practice and not by its results. For Marxism, this means that its claim to science is determined by the practice of creating communism, and not by the particular lessons we learn during this process.10 

The second claim is that every science is defined by the dialectic of continuity and rupture. Continuity because every science builds on the insights of its predecessors, and rupture because every science eventually encounters its own internal limits, which necessitates a rupture in the paradigm to overcome said limits. The unity of a revolutionary tradition comes from shared insights, premises, and methodologies. Every stage accepts the universal lessons produced by the previous stage. To summarize, JMP says,

In the unfolding narrative of any living science (what Simone De Beauvoir categorized as ambiguity or what Alain Badiou called a truth procedure) moments of rupture are simultaneously moments of continuity. The rupture preserves the continuity; simultaneously, the continuity informs the rupture. Sometimes, in order to declare fidelity to the core principles of a science, a rupture is required: on one level theory is rearticulated and revised, and all dogmatisms abandoned, in order to prevent the deeper revision (that is the abandonment) of the basis upon which this science is possible. If a set of problems within a given science cannot be solved then there are two options: an abandonment of this science’s trajectory and a rejection of its core premises (i.e. abandon physics for spiritualism in order to seek a solution in superstition), or an abandonment of a specific scientific paradigm in order to reboot the core premises within a new theoretical region.11

In the case of Marxism, ruptures in science occur through the experiences of world revolutions. The three world-historical revolutions to have happened so far are the Paris Commune, The Russian Revolution, and the Chinese Revolution.12 We must also note, like Lazarus, that every revolutionary sequence eventually fails. However, Moufawad-Paul argues that not all failures are the same, and he distinguishes between four types of revolutionary failure. There are: 

a) those possible failures that are encountered because they result from new questions the previous revolutions did not encounter; b) those possible failures that the most recent world-historical revolution encountered but did not solve. c) those possible failures that the most recent world-historical revolution encountered and did solve. d) those failures that were solved prior to the most recent world-historical revolution, by earlier revolutions in the sequence.13

The first two deal with failures that lurk beyond or at the horizon of revolutionary history, which makes them live failures. The last two deal with failures that are contained within or before revolutionary history, which makes them dead failures. Any dead failure of a revolution did not learn from the history preceding it. 

To summarize so far, Marxism is the science of creating revolution, which depends on the methodology of historical and dialectical materialism, and it moves into new stages via the experience of world-historical revolutions. As Moufawad-Paul notes, the first world-historical revolution in the Marxist paradigm is the Paris Commune, where the workers of Paris controlled the city for two months before eventually being neutralized by imperialist forces. The Paris Commune failed because it was not able to defend itself from the French army, which massacred thousands of Communards in the streets of Paris. As Lenin argues in State and Revolution, it was Marx and Engels experience of the Paris Commune which led them to the conclusion that,the working class cannot simply lay hold of the ready-made state machinery, and wield it for its own purposes.”14 Lenin clarifies, “Marx’s idea is that the working class must break up, smash the “’ready-made state machinery’, and not confine itself merely to laying hold of it.”15  The experience of the Paris Commune demonstrated that it was not enough to merely seize state power, and that the immediate goal of the revolution is to defend its own existence by repressing the bourgeoisie. 

Marxism, in its form at the time, encountered significant problems in the experience of the Paris Commune. On the one hand, Marx argued that the conditions of capitalist production will create an organized working class that will overthrow the bourgeoisie. On the other hand, Marx’s political activity demonstrates that it is necessary for communists to intervene in the process of political organization. Since Marx argues that revolutions in a mode of production are the result of its own contradictions, interpreters imply that this process will be spontaneous. We can draw an analogy here with the problem of free will. If everything that happens in an individual’s life is determined by forces outside of their control, does this imply that the individual ought to do nothing? This problem, between a bird’s eye view of history where events ‘seem’ inevitable and the concrete question of how these events are produced by individuals, can be resolved if we make a distinction between different domains of knowledge. 

Marx’s ‘prediction’ of global communist revolution was a product of his analysis of history and the capitalist system during his own lifetime. Or in other words, Marx was making a historical claim that every mode of society, no matter how strong it seems at the time, will be overthrown because of contradictions that exist within it. Marx did not argue that this process will occur spontaneously, rather, it is the duty of communists to impart to the working masses with the theory needed to consciously create a revolution. Returning to the point, the Paris Commune significantly challenged Marx and Engels’ own beliefs about the durability of the capitalist system,16 their sense of historical time,17 and the level of organization needed to overcome it. As Taylor argued, Marx, who was necessarily limited by his place in history, could not fully theorize the political forms needed to overthrow capitalism. It wasn’t until Lenin and the Bolsheviks that the problem of the revolutionary political form was coherently theorized.

If the Paris Commune failed primarily because it was not able to defend itself, then the immediate task of every revolutionary movement is to develop the means to defend itself immediately after the seizure of state power. Lenin’s insights tell us that, “it is only possible to establish socialism through a revolutionary party, [and] that a state commanded by the proletariat must be instituted to suppress the bourgeoisie so as to possibly establish communism (i.e. the dictatorship of the proletariat).”18 While Marx had already argued that the dictatorship of the proletariat would immediately follow the revolution, Lenin took this a step further and argued that the DOtP will need to be realized by a vanguard party that actively leads the revolution. Or in other words, Marx believed that a communist revolution would be won by an organized group of workers created by the conditions of capitalism, but he did not know how this would unfold concretely. Lenin argued that the workers alone would not be able to successfully lead a revolution if they did not possess revolutionary theory. Therefore, it is the Communist Party’s duty to develop revolutionary theory and spread it to the workers. The Communist Party becomes the vanguard by harnessing and directing the revolutionary energy of the masses. 

And Lenin was right: his concept of the DOtP and the vanguard party worked. The Bolsheviks not only seized state power in Russia with the broad support of the masses,19 but they were also able to hold on to it too despite a full-fledged imperialist onslaught. It was the success of the Bolshevik Revolution that opened up a new paradigm within the science of Marxism, which became codified as Marxism-Leninism. Of course, we must note that Leninism is a placeholder for the rupture provided by the Soviet experience, and wasn’t actually codified systematically until Stalin’s Foundations of Leninism, where the specificity of Leninism was articulated for the first time. Likewise, JMP argues that Maoism itself didn’t become an actual concept until it was systematized by the Communist Party of Peru in the late ’80s.20 Lenin was a Marxist, but it was his application of the methodology to the Russian conditions, and the success of the revolution, that transformed the paradigm and taught us new universal lessons in the process.21

However, we all know that the Sovet Union failed. The Communist Party, which became intertwined with the state, became more and more alienated from the masses. The weakening of the Soviets, which Lenin envisaged as the ideal form of proletarian democracy, coupled with the absence of mass organizations to hold the Communist Party accountable, played a major role in this breakdown. While the Soviet Union was a failure, it was a live failure because it encountered limits unknown to any previous socialist project. The USSR not only rocked the capitalist nations to their core (the Red Scare), but it also showed us that it is possible to build a world beyond the capitalist system. And even though the USSR did a lot of bad things, like the purges, the invasions, and unnecessary repression, it was a significantly better society than the liberal democracies. We don’t need to accept bourgeois historiography and bash the Soviet Union for not actually being communist. Rather, we need to learn why they failed, and find solutions to their failures. 

The Maoist Rupture

One explanation for the failure of the USSR, and therefore of Marxism-Leninism, is argued In The State and Counter-Revolution. The author, Tom Clarke, argues that Marxism-Leninism is necessarily defined by the following contradiction: 

On the one hand it is impossible for the proletariat to spontaneously develop a revolutionary party with a revolutionary ideology; on the other hand, it is impossible for a party that the workers cannot possibly develop, and thus is developed instead by the petty bourgeoisie, to carry a revolution to its completion. In essence: Marxism-Leninism is correct while, at the same time, Marxism-Leninism is incorrect.22

Clark’s argument entails the view that the intellectuals who import revolutionary theory to the proletariat, i.e. the merger theory, are of petty-bourgeois origin. Clarke views this contradiction of Marxism-Leninism in the positivist sense, in which contradictions are irrational and undermine a theory. Moufawad-Paul disagrees and views this as a contradiction in the Marxist sense, i.e. as a problem that needs/must be overcome. We cannot simply dismiss this contradiction as non-existent, or even try to pick one side of the contradiction, where we would either declare that only the workers or the intelligentsia can lead us to revolution. One example of the former comes through Hal Draper, who tried to solve this problem with a theory of “socialism from below” where the working class spontaneously builds their own party. Moufawad-Paul argues that Clarke’s inability to solve the contradiction was because of his misunderstanding of Maoism as Mao Zedong-thought. Furthermore, the Cultural Revolution provides the seeds of the solution to the impasse of Marxism-Leninism (a struggle against petty-bourgeois ideology). 

Before proceeding into the Cultural Revolution, it is necessary to provide a schematic overview of the relationship between the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) and the Communist Party of the Soviet Union (CPSU). If the Bolshevik Revolution built on the failures of the Paris Commune, then the Chinese Revolution built on the failures of the Bolsheviks. Although, we must add that the Chinese Revolution unfolded during a similar time period to the Soviet Union’s socialist construction, which meant that there wasn’t enough time in between for them to fully comprehend the USSR’s failures.23  

Mao and the Chinese Communists had seen the process of alienation between the party and the masses in the USSR. A major component of this process was the development of revisionism within the CPSU. Midway through the 1930s, the CPSU was already declaring that socialist construction was complete within the USSR. Walter Rodney says, “we ought to be skeptical of the Soviet claims of having fully achieved Socialism in 1937–8 and that they are now building Communism. That they can pin down a precise date is immediately suspicious.”24 It is clear that at this point, even before Kruschev, the USSR was already drifting towards revisionism. While improving material conditions and developing a previously underdeveloped country is a good thing, this is not socialism. Mao was understandably worried that China could also slide down the revisionist road. Therefore in China, party officials didn’t attain the same privileges as Soviet officials. They only consumed what they needed, rode bicycles or took buses for transportation, and ate meals in workers’ canteens.25 

The Chinese Communists developed the mass line to counter the development of revisionism within the party and to ensure that the party always remained accountable to the people. So what is the mass line? JMP says, 

The participants in a revolutionary movement begin with a revolutionary theory, taken from the history of Marxism, that they plan to take to the masses. If they succeed in taking this theory to the masses, then they emerge from these masses transformed, pulling in their wake new cadre that will teach both them and their movement something more about revolution, and demonstrating that the moment of from is far more significant than the moment of to because it is the mechanism that permits the recognition of a revolutionary politics.26

The mass line ensures that the party is always held accountable by the people. If the masses reject a theory, then the party must too. One may object that this converts the masses into the sole arbiters of truth, which can be potentially problematic. If the masses are the sole arbiters of truth, then why does the party exist in the first place? However, this is not what the mass line implies. Rather, “if [a theory] is rejected by the most radical factions of this class then it should be rethought; if it pulls in new recruits, who will also transform the movement that brings this theory, then it is not some alien affectation imposed on the working classes.”27 No class or organization is the sole arbiter of truth, and the only way to determine the truth is through testing theories. Knowledge is the result of experimentation and ideological struggles, not something that is revealed (empiricism) or discovered through thought alone (rationalism). 

Unfortunately, the Maoists were too late to realize the development of revisionism within the party, which was manifesting in the alienation of the people from the party. By 1951, the party created a salary system for party officials, some received better pay and benefits, and it even opened schools specifically for party members’ children, despite Mao’s opposition. After the failure of the Great Leap Forward, Mao was ousted from power within the party. However, he wasn’t willing to give up just yet, which takes us back into the Cultural Revolution, which, Alain Badiou notes, “was the sole example of a revolution under the conditions of state socialism.”28

While this isn’t a space to analyze the immense complexity of the GPCR, which others are already doing, I can, again, provide a schematic overview. The Cultural Revolution was a revolution led primarily by young Maoists, who were emboldened by the support of Mao, against bourgeois elements in China and particularly against Party officials. The Revolution took the form of the Red Guards storming cities with military equipment and conducting public struggle sessions, power seizures by the Red Guards in cities like Shanghai where anti-Maoist public officials were purged and even publically humiliated, and the construction of various mass organizations that were external to the party. Another significant event to happen in the Cultural Revolution was that students were sent to the countryside to learn manual labor, and workers began to occupy the universities. In one particular incident, students responded to the occupation by shooting at and killing workers, which required an intervention from Mao himself to de-escalate the situation. The Cultural Revolution was one of the most significant, dramatic, and violent episodes of the 20th century, and I cannot even come close to giving it the justice it deserves here. 

What matters here is not necessarily what happened in the Cultural Revolution, but why it happened in the first place. The 16 Points document, produced by the Maoists, provides the general motivation for the Revolution:

Although the bourgeoisie has been overthrown, it is still trying to use the old ideas, culture, customs and habits of the exploiting classes to corrupt the masses, capture their minds and endeavour to stage a comeback. The proletariat must do the exact opposite: it must meet head-on every challenge of the bourgeoisie in the ideological field and use the new ideas, culture, customs and habits of the proletariat to change the mental outlook of the whole of society. At present, our objective is to struggle against and overthrow those persons in authority who are taking the capitalist road, to criticize and repudiate the reactionary bourgeois academic “authorities” and the ideology of the bourgeoisie and all other exploiting classes and to transform education, literature and art and all other parts of the superstructure not in correspondence with the socialist economic base, so as to facilitate the consolidation and development of the socialist system.29

The Cultural Revolution can be understood as a revolution in the superstructure of the socialist social formation. While the initial Chinese Revolution seized state power, another revolution was necessary to defeat the persistence of bourgeois ideology, customs, and traditions. Furthermore, this revolution would have to remove power from revisionists within the party. This brings us to a key insight of Maoism, which is that after a revolution, the bourgeoisie re-constitutes within the party. 

We must note that all developments in Marxist theory can be considered, on some level, to be ‘revisions’ of Marx. But to add on to, or to criticize Marx, does not make on a revisionist per se. Rather, revisionism occurs when one rejects the core premises of Marxism. The core premise of Marxism is the law of class struggle which leads to the dictatorship of the proletariat. The Soviet Union became revisionist when they sought collaboration with the United States. If the Soviet Union represented the global communist movement, and if the US represents the global capitalist system as its strongest link, then pursuing peace for peace’s sake is a negation of the core of Marxism. 

In The Cultural Revolution, Jean Daubier attempts to explain why revisionism necessarily develops within the party post-revolution. To start with, he notes that every revolution inherits contradictions from the social formation preceding it. In every society on Earth, since there are no communist societies, there is a division of labor between manual and intellectual labor. In capitalist societies, we treasure intellectual labor and treat manual labor with contempt. All of our lives, we’ve been told to look down upon menial labor, such as being a factory worker, working at McDonald’s, being a mailman, etc. The jobs that children aspire to are usually doctors, lawyers, teachers, etc.30  In other words, jobs that mainly consist of intellectual labor and are occupied by trained intellectuals. Daubier argues that this division of labor, and further, the perceptions associated with each form of labor, necessarily carry into a socialist society. He argues the university is a prime site of the division of labor. Of course, a socialist society still needs universities to train people in the sciences, technology, etc., but unless they’re dramatically overhauled they’ll reproduce the capitalist division of labor. This is the, “opposition between the bearers of knowledge on the one hand and the mass of workers, deprived of science, on the other.”31  Thus, even though capitalism has been abolished, some of the contradictions inherent in it will remain under socialism. 

Furthermore, Daubier argues that, by force of habit, it is more likely than not that the lionization of intellectual labor will remain in a socialist social formation, and a division between an elite class of scientists, technicians, and administrators will form at one pole while the workers will remain at the other. The state, which always maintains and reconciles class antagonisms, even after the revolution, still exists under socialism and can perpetuate inequality between party officials and the masses. Those in power have the opportunity to attain certain privileges for themselves, and Daubier argues that this happened in the Chinese CCP. The struggle against individualism and egoism in the party can turn into a major struggle on its own. This is the context of the Chinese Cultural Revolution, which seems like a perfectly “logical Marxist endeavor.”32 Daubier concludes, “at the heart of the Cultural Revolution was the relationship between those in power and the people.”33

So what lessons can we draw from the Cultural Revolution? Let’s return to Badiou’s analysis in The Communist Hypothesis, where he argues that the Cultural Revolution: 

bears witness to the impossibility truly and globally to free politics from the framework of the party-state that imprisons it. It marks an irreplaceable experience of saturation, because a violent will to find a new political path, to relaunch the revolution, and to find new forms of the workers’ struggle under the formal conditions of socialism ended up in failure when confronted with the necessary maintenance, for reasons of public order and the refusal of civil war, of the general frame of the party-state.34

Returning back to Taylor’s piece, his debt to Badiou becomes clear. While Badiou praises the project of the GPCR for being the first proletarian revolution within a socialist society, he makes the wrong conclusion. Badiou understands the limits of Marxism-Leninism and the party-form, which becomes divorced from the people and facilitates the development of revisionism and capitalist restoration, but does not believe these limits can be overcome, at least within the framework of the communist party. The only problem was that the necessity of the Cultural Revolution was realized too late, which meant it couldn’t override the drift towards the capitalist road. Moufawad-Paul argues that Badiou draws these hasty conclusions because not enough time had passed for him to realize that the Cultural Revolution spawned the development of new revolutionary movements in Peru, Nepal, Afghanistan, etc, where Maoism was formulated coherently for the first time.35 

This brings us back to Tom Clarke and his critique of Marxism-Leninism. Clarke seems to argue that revisionism is inevitable due to the petty-bourgeois essence of Marxism-Leninism. However, according to JMP, “Clark ignores that one moment in history [The GPCR] where the petty bourgeoisie was ‘sent down to the countryside’ in droves, where once-privileged Marxist intellectuals were placed under the authority of the masses, and where the authority of the party itself was briefly called into question.”36 The Chinese Revolution encountered Clarke’s contradiction where the petty-bourgeois re-formulates into the party because after a revolution, petty-bourgeois ideology still permeates society. However, the Cultural Revolution proposed a way to transgress this limit of Marxism-Leninism. 

To clarify, both the Soviet Union and China demonstrate the limits of Marxism-Leninism. Revolutionary China was a Marxist-Leninist project and came up against the same limits as the USSR. The difference was that China offered solutions to overcome these limits, even if they failed (in the live sense), which opened a new paradigm in the science of Marxism: Marxism-Leninism-Maoism. The Mass Line offers a mechanism to transform the nature of the party into a revolutionary mass organization which can resist the neutralizing force of the party-form. 

Maoism in the Current Conjuncture

Returning back to where we started, how can we apply the insights of Maoism to the current conjuncture? To start with, we need to apply the mass line, criticism and self-criticism within our organizations and begin the process of cultural revolution. JMP believes that any revolutionary organization should be posing these questions:

Is an organization building itself according to the will of the revolutionary masses while, at the same time, organizing this will and providing theoretical guidance; is this organization critical of itself and willing to accept that it is wrong; are the movement’s cadre serving the people and capable of self-criticism in a way that parallels the “checking of privilege” common in identity politics circles but, unlike these circles, tied to a coherent political line; does this movement see itself as capable of transcending the ruling ideas of the ruling class, grasping how certain ideological moments distort and over/under-determine the economic base (as Mao pointed out in On Contradiction), and constantly reforming itself through the long march of cultural revolution? Failure to answer these questions might in fact be a failure to concretely apply those theoretical insights that are supposed to make the name of Maoism into a concept.37

I also believe it is important to determine, right now, which organizations have the capacity to be revolutionary. The biggest socialist organization in the US right now, as we are constantly reminded of, is DSA. Is DSA capable of becoming a revolutionary organization that implements the mass line? 

This question can be answered with a firm no, as DSA is a dead end. One reason is that sexual harassment and assault run rampant within the organization and are even covered up by leadership on occasions.38 Although as we have seen recently with PSL, this is not unique to DSA alone. We cannot build a truly revolutionary organization without taking instances of harm seriously. Nevermind the personal trauma that sexual harassment and assault inflict, but if communist organizations demonstrate that they are incapable of standing alongside survivors this will create intense disillusionment and distrust within the communist movement. I have plenty of comrades that have become disillusioned with revolutionary politics because of their experiences within DSA. 

DSA is also a dead-end for political reasons because their success is built on a bourgeois understanding of socialism. I have met so many individuals, both in DSA and in YDSA, that believe socialism revolves around the struggle for social welfare like universal healthcare and education. This is not a problem per se, considering the core of any communist movement’s activity will revolve around political education and inheriting individuals with petty-bourgeois beliefs. But the problem is that DSA actively facilitates the recruitment of these individuals through their political practice, which revolves around electing ‘socialist’ politicians into the repressive state apparatus, or fighting for legislation. DSA actively vulgarizes the common perception of socialism, and embodies opportunism. I would be more sympathetic to the argument that revolutionaries ought to stay in DSA if the organization did not actively harm the communist movement by vulgarizing socialism and inflicting harm on individuals. 

This piece doesn’t have the scope to present a full argument for what kinds of organizations we ought to be building or participating in right now, but I can say that communists should be building explicitly revolutionary organizations and following the mass line in their practice. It doesn’t matter if these organizations are already existing, like the Maoist Communist Party chapters that have been forming recently, or if they are being constructed now on a smaller scale. As Lenin says, 

It is not so much a question of the size of an organisation, as of the real, objective significance of its policy: does its policy represent the masses, does it serve them, i.e., does it aim at their liberation from capitalism, or does it represent the interests of the minority, the minority’s reconciliation with capitalism? And it is therefore our duty, if we wish to remain socialists, to go down lower and deeper, to the real masses; this is the whole meaning and the whole purport of the struggle against opportunism.

This idea, of serving and interacting with the masses, is at the basis of the mass line. Only by actually building relationships with the people most intensely exploited and oppressed by the capitalist system, the primary revolutionary agents, can we begin to form a revolutionary politics. The uprisings present a clear opening for the implementation of the mass line. It is clear that the masses are being unjustly imprisoned and killed by the bourgeois state. It is clear that the masses are being left like sheep to the wolves in this pandemic, where working class people are being ravaged by Covid without any help from the state. It is clear that the masses are still being forced to work despite a deadly pandemic. If we want to build a revolutionary movement, we need to start by supporting the masses where they are right now, figure out their needs, and demonstrate our solidarity. 

This process cannot stop and end at service.39 Rather, this is the beginning of the process of building a revolutionary communist organization, guided by the mass line, which can overcome the neutralizing forces of the bourgeois state and their lackeys.

A Twelve-Step Program for Democrat Addiction

Jonah Martell lays out a twelve-step program for the Democratic Socialists of America to pursue a path of independent working-class politics. 

Civil War-era Cartoon, 1863. The Union fights off the teacherous Copperheads: Democrats who demanded immediate peace with the Confederacy.

Cheer up, comrades! It has been a sorrowful year for all of us, but the whole world has taken a beating—we’re hardly special. We will always have choices to make, strategies to explore, and opportunities to pursue. In this piece, I will do my best to illuminate some of them. 

We can transform our political prospects. But first we will have to transform ourselves. It is pointless to “keep fighting the good fight” if that means pounding on the same brick wall forever. We must rethink old assumptions and learn some new tricks. If we retreat into isolated local projects or blindly “follow the leader,” we set the stage for another defeat. 

Remember the Sanders campaign? Those months seem like a distant memory now. Bernie Sanders played by the rules of the Democratic Party, and those rules squashed him. Yet we have the power to write our own rulebook—not just by breaking with the Democrats, but by inventing a completely new way of doing politics. It is time to move past the obvious insights. Democrats suck; they are treating progressives unfairly; it is still a relief that Trump got fired. To do better next time, we must ask ourselves more difficult questions. The first one is very simple: who is “we?”

Who Are You?

Nearly every political argument invokes a “we,” a common group that should mobilize around something. Although this is useful for persuasive purposes, it can also muddy the waters. In the real world, there is never just one “we” that any of us belong to—no single collective agent. Readers of this article are presumably part of many “we’s.” 

Several examples come to mind. There is the George Floyd protest movement. There is also Bernie World: the massive network of people who supported the Sanders campaign. And many of us feel a certain kinship with all left-leaning people in America—with our friends who want some kind of welfare state, even if they lack an explicit political ideology.

Then there is a much smaller “we”: the American socialist movement. People who own the word “socialism” and take it seriously, without needing a “democratic” disclaimer in front (most of us are even fine with the c-word). We clump around explicitly socialist organizations—most often the Democratic Socialists of America—and we use the dictionary definitions. We actually want common ownership of the means of production and a new political system to make it possible. 

Socialists are a small but growing minority of the U.S. population. How should socialists handle being in a minority? One option is to embrace it, to turn inward and form angry little echo chambers that achieve nothing. Another is to bow to outside forces, watering down our beliefs in the name of “progressive coalition-building.” Both of these solutions fall short. There is nothing wrong with being in a minority, especially when your side has unique insights on how society works. What’s important is to be an outward-looking minority—a minority with a genuine desire for growth and a clearheaded awareness of its surroundings.

Where Are We?

One tempting idea is that the American Left is finished. With Trump out of office, the masses will become complacent, apathy will reign, and there will be no more appetite for political change. In such bleak times, this pessimism is understandable, but it’s also wrong.

“Don’t underestimate Joe’s capacity to fuck things up.” —President Barack Obama

Total nihilism about our prospects puts far too much faith in Joe Biden and the Democratic Party. The crisis in this country runs deeper than Trump. It began before Trump and will continue long after him. The public may want a return to normalcy, but that is just a short-term impulse. Biden’s party will be governing in the middle of a global pandemic and an economic recession. To govern alone, they will have to pull off an extraordinary political surgery: winning a Senate majority of one, voting unanimously to reform the filibuster, adding new states, and then packing the Supreme Court to keep their legislation viable.

Judging by their track record, are the Democrats up to this task? Are they capable of such ruthless political discipline? And even if they do accomplish it, will their leadership be ready to push through major reforms to help America’s struggling working class?

Perhaps Obama could make a few phone calls and threaten a drone strike on Joe Manchin. Otherwise, they will be governing at the feet of Mitch McConnell. Remember him, the Kentucky boy who looks like a turtle? That’s the man who will be holding Joe Biden accountable, not progressives. The GOP controls the Senate. It now controls the Supreme Court. It has ample weapons to impose a wingnut regime on America without Trump in office. Perhaps that is why they are refusing to wage an all-out war over Biden’s victory.

There will be no “bipartisan” healing, only stagnation and decay. When discontent resurfaces, multiple forces on the Left (not to mention the Right) will pounce to take advantage of it. One force to be reckoned with is Bernie Sanders, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, and the rest of the left-wing Democrats in Congress. Because they will be locked out of Biden’s administration, they have nowhere to go but the pulpit. Their party is already eager to marginalize them, and they know the score. The planet is burning. Millions of us have no healthcare in the middle of a pandemic. Roe v. Wade may well be overturned, making abortion illegal for millions overnight and sparking massive upheaval. Every social gain of the past fifty years stands at the mercy of the Supreme Court.

Left-wing Democrats will have to change their strategy. Will they do so effectively? No one knows, and ordinary rank and file socialists should not rely on it. They are embedded in a coalition that prevents them from building a viable constituency. Our responsibility is to develop a more independent approach to politics, with or without their help.

To understand why, let us talk about redbaiting. It worked this year, both on the Left and the liberals (particularly in Miami). Socialism has a powerful appeal among downwardly mobile young people who escaped their elders’ Cold War indoctrination. For a majority of Americans, however, it remains a dirty word.  The Democrats stoked that base when they tarred Bernie as a shill for Castro. Then Trump took up where they left off, tarring Biden as a shill for Bernie, AOC, and a communist plot to destroy America. He and his party made a bet that even the most ridiculous lies would send the Right marching off to Valhalla. They bet right.

Thanks in part to red-baiting (not to mention race-baiting, jingoism, coddling evangelicals, and actually running an energetic campaign), Trump’s coalition turned out with millions more than they had in 2016. The Democrats lost seats in the House and didn’t win the Senate. Now the neoliberals are furiously blaming the Left. Representative Abigail Spanberger (D-Va.) has been particularly frustrated with her neoliberal colleagues for not repressing us hard enough. In a conference call shortly after Election Day, the former CIA officer had this to say:

“We have to commit to not saying the words “defund the police” ever again,” she said. “We have to not use the words ‘socialist’ or ‘socialism’ ever again.”

She may well be right. Censoring those slogans would be a smart tactical move for her party (not ours). But the Representative forgets three things:

1)  Socialists are here to stay and will not be shutting up.

2)  Left Democrats like Bernie worked tirelessly to turn out their constituencies for Biden. Despite the Right’s hatred of them, they played a crucial role in Biden’s victory.  

3)  Red-baiting targeted the Establishment’s weaknesses—not just ours.

That third point is counterintuitive, so it deserves some further context. Once again, the Democrats nominated an establishment candidate who set popular expectations as low as he possibly could. Why not fill the empty vessel? It made perfect sense for Trump and his allies to turn boring Joe Biden into a sinister communist puppet. The move served three basic purposes: stoke their right-wing base, pit the Democrats against their progressive wing, and avoid having to debate Biden directly because Donald Trump is an idiot. 

Debating Boogeyman Bernie was easy enough, but had Real Bernie been the nominee, the dynamic would have changed in some very interesting ways. Sanders excels at something that is invaluable for all political leaders: incisive messaging. Instead of promising nothing, he would have countered Trump’s red-baiting head-on by aggressively selling his ideas: “You’re damn right I support Medicare for All and let me tell you why!” Whatever the results on Election Day, his base would have emerged with hardened convictions and itching for a fight. 

A moot point of course: the Bernie constituency did not harden. Instead, it was defeated, co-opted, and now discarded, left to wallow in uncertainty about its future. Bernie lost because the Establishment rigged the primary—not with mail-in ballots and computer hacks, but with fear: fear of losing to Trump. Fear that Bernie accepted from the outset by promising his loyalty to any nominee and justifying his entire campaign by claiming to be America’s Best Trump Remover. Biden crushed that sales pitch the moment he cruised in with an orchestrated wave of big-name endorsements, signaling to all uncertain voters that the party apparatus was his. How could an open hijacker like Bernie be the Unity Candidate? The loyal crew rallied behind its captain and threw the pirate overboard.

Sold one-by-one, his policies were wildly popular, but bundling them together with a big red bow was too hard a sell for Democratic voters who feared Trump above all else. When Bernie lost the primary, he lost his podium as well. He spent the rest of the election shunted off in a corner, working quietly for Biden’s coalition to “save America” from total meltdown. There was nowhere left to go on the path he had set for himself.

How did that coalition treat him? Bernie wanted Medicare for All. The DNC Platform Committee would not even accept a universal program for children. In 1998, Bill Clinton called for lowering the Medicare eligibility age to 55. In 2020, Biden said “lower it to 60,” framing it as a generous concession to Bernie’s eager young whippersnappers. When Bernie delegates pushed for a move back to Clinton’s original proposal, the Committee shot that down too.

Medicare is for Seniors Only, and Biden has been quite firm on that principle. Nor was his public option a genuine concession. His campaign was happy to paste it on the website, but Biden played it down the instant Trump held his feet to the fire, claiming that it would only be a Medicaid-style program for the destitute.1

The American Left is being buried in coalitions that treat us like dirt. We beg them, appease them, and submit to their abuse. Then they still fail, despite all our efforts to prevent it, and each failure deepens our dependency on them. For decades, we have been hopelessly addicted to Democrats.

Let 2020 be the final relapse. We must be our own captains and build our own ship: a self-assured, self-reliant movement with no divided loyalties. A fearless movement powered by millions who cannot be cowed or manipulated. Millions who know exactly what we stand for; who are sold on both our policies and the big red bow that ties them together.

An independent, socialist, working-class party.

Who Will Build the Ship?

Such tired old words! They are usually where reflection ends, because they are infinitely harder to make real.

Will the Squad build the Ship? Will Omar, Tlaib, Pressley, Ocasio-Cortez, and the rest who won their primaries this year form a Democratic Socialist Party? Before socialists rush to take orders from them, the Squad’s track record deserves a partial review. They have:

    • Firmly backed Medicare for All (all of them).
    • Voted for a $2.7 trillion-dollar Pentagon budget (AOC, Tlaib).
    • Endorsed Bernie Sanders (AOC, Omar, Tlaib).
    • Endorsed Elizabeth Warren (Pressley).
    • Held a sit-in at Nancy Pelosi’s office (AOC).
    • Called Nancy Pelosi “Mama Bear” (AOC).
    • Called for defunding the police (AOC).
    • Held a photo-op with the NYPD (AOC).
    • Fired her chief of staff for annoying Democrats (AOC).
    • Slammed the Democratic Party as incompetent (AOC).

Suspend all moral judgments. Just ask from a distance: are these the actions of a disciplined socialist movement with a clear political strategy? Or are they the actions of a loose, informal circle of left-wing Democrats?

It is the latter, of course. Just like Bernie, members of the Squad are grappling with divided loyalties, balancing their genuine desire for progress with their obligations to a party that wants none of it. There has been much talk in DSA of launching a “dirty break”: having socialists run within Democratic primaries and one day splitting off to form a party of their own. But there is no evidence that anyone in the Squad has ambitions to do this. Unlike Bernie, they have spent their entire political careers working within the Democratic Party. Even if they do have secret plans, ordinary socialists are not privy to them and will have no say in how they play out.

DSA has thoroughly confused itself by viewing the Squad as its rightful leaders. A clear majority of DSA members want to chart a course away from the Democrats, but the Squad’s theory of change is based on “winning the soul” of their party. This is quite different from our mission to build an independent socialist movement.

If the Squad will not build the ship, then what about organized labor? If we stay patient and work hard within the unions, could they eventually toughen up to create an American Labor Party? Perhapsbut they will have us waiting for quite a while. For over eighty years the U.S. labor movement has functioned as an appendage of the Democratic Party. It has millions of members, but they are demoralized, dominated by stagnant leadership, and suffering from decades of decline. The Left certainly needs to rebuild labor, but trying to do so as isolated individuals is a vain abdication of responsibility. The Democrats have the labor movement in a political stranglehold, and to break it we must create a political alternative. Many times in history, it has been a left party that organizes and revitalizes the unions, rather than the other way around. Nor are labor-based parties guaranteed to be friendly to socialists—the purge of Jeremy Corbyn and the British Labour Left should give pause to would-be American Laborites. Enough waiting based on hypotheticals. The time for independent politics is now.

If we need an independent party now, then what should it look like? One option is to cast the net as wide as we possibly can. Throw the s-word out and join with every left-leaning person we can find to form a broad-based progressive party. The party could appeal on just a few policies that are already highly popular, like Medicare for All, and de-emphasize other issues that “divide us.”

It’s a tempting idea. Ditching socialism could take the heat off our backs and make growth much easier in the short term. There is already an organization that is trying to do this: the Movement for a People’s Party. Led by former Bernie staffer Nick Brana, it is determined to set up a “new nationally-viable progressive party.” It has recruited tens of thousands of supporters and an impressive lineup of high-profile speakers, from Marianne Williamson to Jesse Ventura. Running on a platform loosely modeled on that of Bernie’s 2016 campaign, it hopes to flip congressional seats in 2022 and win the presidency in 2024.

Although MPP’s ambition is admirable, the recent track record of “left populism” does not bode well for them. Populist coalitions boom and bust; they rise to power only to implement austerity; they speak in simplistic terms of “the People” and “the Elite” that impede more sophisticated class-based analyses. Their frantic rush for the presidency is quite unwise, as is their desire to conjure up an instant majority. Socialists would do well to remember the fate of America’s original Populist Party: cooptation in 1896 by a Democratic presidential candidate who adopted their demand for free coinage of silver.

Marxist political strategist Mike Macnair describes this impatient approach to politics as “conning the working class into power.” Karl Marx had similar warnings to his contemporaries in 1850:

[The faction opposing us regards] not the real conditions but a mere effort of will as the driving force of the revolution. Whereas we say to the workers: ‘You will have to go through 15, 20, 50 years of civil wars and national struggles not only to bring about a change in society but also to change yourselves, and prepare yourselves for the exercise of political power.’

Socialists should be gearing up for this long-term political struggle. We see the obstacles in front of us in a way that catch-all “progressives” cannot. Progressives hold a powerless but accepted niche within the American political system. It is easy for them to cheerfully dream of “taking back our democracy” and “advancing the American experiment.” Socialists have much weaker roots. Constantly derided as un-American, they are driven to question the dominant culture and the entire political system.

This political system is explicitly designed to “restrain the democratic spirit.” The president is not elected by popular vote. The Senate, with total control over cabinet and judicial appointments, vastly overrepresents conservative white voters, and its members serve staggered six-year terms. This is to say nothing of the Supreme Court, whose members serve for life and claim the right to strike down any legislation as they see fit.

The add-ons are helpful as well. Ballot access laws prop up an artificial two-party system, barring all third parties from meaningfully contesting elections. Millions of felons are disenfranchised. Gerrymandering and voter suppression are rampant. Virtually all elections are in single-member districts—winner-take-all.

“But the Founding Fathers intended it this way!” the conservatives screech when pressed for any progressive reform. “You can’t just change it on a whim!”

Meanwhile, they impose their own changes. They pack the courts, purge the voter rolls, and impose right-wing minority rule on the entire country. The Democratic Party will continue to submit to it for years to come because it is equally loyal to this tired Old Regime.

What is needed is not just a break with the Democrats, but a complete break in our way of conceptualizing political power. Will socialists continue to campaign for catch-all progressives, for left Democrats and marginal third parties? Or will we introduce something completely new and unprecedented to American politics—something that challenges not just the rules but the institutions that make them?

There will be no victory for the Left within the established constitutional order. It was designed to keep uppity leftists out of power. Conservatives know this full well. We will never win if we play by their rules. Our job is to develop a coherent strategy to attack their deliberately incoherent political system. A strategy based on incisive messaging, political independence, and a national struggle for power.

Just to be clear: from this point on, when I say “we” I mean DSA. For all its flaws, it is the flagship organization for American socialists. Where its competitors have three or four-digit memberships, its rolls will soon break 100,000. It is the ideal place to hammer out some kind of future for ourselves. 

No individual can do it alone. But just to get the ball rolling, I would propose the following:

A TWELVE STEP PROGRAM FOR SOCIALISTS

(To Break Our Addiction to Democrats) 

1)  Declare political independence.

Remember what Joe Biden said at the first debate to counter Trump’s idiotic redbaiting. He said “I am the Democratic Party.”Don’t hate him! It was true, and it was actually quite clever of Joe. He was leading a messy coalition and he stepped up to assert responsibility for it. With those words, he wiped out the Bernie movement and made it crystal clear what the Democratic Party is about.

Now, remember how Bernie countered his own redbaiters when his campaign was just getting started. He gave a speech about “what democratic socialism means to me.” Do you see the difference here? One man is speaking assertively about an entire political coalition. The other is speaking on behalf of himself to humanize the s-word and make it less intimidating. But in doing so, he is stripping it of any standardized definition.

Is socialism an organized political movement or is it a slogan, a vague personal philosophy? Right now it is mostly the latter in the United States. Popular understandings of the term range from “equality” to “government ownership” to “talking to people, being social … getting along with people.”

If socialism is no more than a slogan, perhaps we should simply abandon it. The entire point of sloganeering is to popularize unpopular ideas. When the slogan alienates people and has no substance, it is useless. 

It’s not quite that simple, of course. As conservatives love to say, we can’t erase our past, and picking a feel-good label for ourselves will not necessarily protect us. The Right will always be pinning the red bow on anything left of Mussolini. Just ask Podemos (and Joe Biden)!

Moreover, socialism is useful because it appeals to a critical target audience: young, downwardly mobile, working-class people who are already skeptical of American capitalism. Anyone can claim to be a progressive, from Maoists to Nancy Pelosi. Socialism is a knife that cuts us apart from the crowd; it has already captured the public’s attention. We just need to make sure that we cut ourselves into an organized political constituency and not a rebellious fashion trend.

DSA should act less like Bernie and more like Joe. It should step up and say, “DSA is the Socialist Movement.” When asked what socialism is, it should give a coherent definition. I will not presume to have a full answer here, but we should be clear that socialism is a mission to bring freedom and democracy to the working class—and that mission will require regime change. Moreover, because most self-professed socialists in America are also communists, perhaps we should be more straightforward about that when asked. A classless, stateless, communist society is our end goal—give or take a few generations.

That is how DSA should define itself publicly. It should also change the way it describes itself to members. It could put out a statement, even if it is completely internal, announcing that DSA considers itself an independent socialist party and expects members to conduct themselves accordingly. It will not have legal status as a party, but that doesn’t matter. Many American socialists, from Seth Ackerman to Howie Hawkins, have acknowledged the need for flexibility on this question. Because state governments dictate the structure of legally recognized parties, we should simply reject their regulatory frameworks and define for ourselves what a party is. Given the public’s understandable impulse to dismiss conventional third parties, we could continue to refer to ourselves officially as “DSA,” “the Socialist Movement,” or anything similar. Our actions will cement our political independence, not the formality of sticking the p-word in our official title.

There is nothing particularly misleading about this (if leaving out the p-word is opportunistic, then so was Rosa Luxemburg’s party). From a Marxist perspective, a communist party is a movement—a structured, organized, revolutionary political movement.2  Framing the party in these terms is therefore perfectly honest and acceptable. It would also subvert the shallow liberal conception of movements as flash mobs and Twitter hashtags. 

All of these maneuvers may seem pretentious and overbearing, but they are necessary. The Right and Center have no qualms about defining socialism for the public. They define it as “misery and destitution.” Nor are the Left Democrats afraid to advance vague, meandering definitions that leave the Right howling and the fence-sitters completely unconvinced. 

The momentum is with DSA. Even Trotskyist sects acknowledge this by routinely imploring DSA to form a new party that they can “affiliate” with. We have the power to step up and assert collective responsibility for the American socialist movement. It’s us, the Right, or the wavering politicians. Let there be no more talk about “What Democratic Socialism Means to Me.” From now on, the phrase should be “What the Socialist Movement Demands.”

2) Hold annual conventions.

This is a short point. For years DSA has held conventions on a biannual basis. Today that will not be enough. The United States has become rather unstable; conditions can change in a heartbeat and we will have to adapt to them quickly. To keep up with the pace of events, we should hold conventions every year, constantly reevaluating our platform and strategy.

3) Form statewide organizations.

What is the mourning cry of a defeated progressive? It’s this:

“Oh well. I’ll just get involved in local politics. That’s where the real change happens anyway.”

A noble thought; every one of us has had it at some point. Unfortunately, it reflects an unconscious peasant mentality. Giving up on large-scale political change, the progressive returns to their village to do what little they can.

“I would never challenge His Majesty the King. Better to cultivate my little garden.”

A garden is not an island. American cities have more autonomy than their counterparts in many other countries, but that is not saying much. State and federal policies shape every aspect of local government. They prohibit cities from requiring paid sick leave for workers. They require them to accept fracking within their boundaries. They force towns to base their speed limits on pre-existing traffic flows, ratcheting up car speeds and slaughtering pedestrians. 

When we confine ourselves to local politics, we become functionaries of the capitalist state. We also play into the reactionary old American idea that all problems are best solved locally, that large-scale social programs can never be trusted. We must build an opposition to the capitalist state at every level, and that means creating strong regional organizations. A DSA caucus called the Collective Power Network raised this point quite effectively in 2019. What they forgot to fully address is the appropriate scale for these regional entities: the state level. The Republicans and Democrats have their state parties. So should we. 

“But that’s modeling ourselves on the bourgeois state!” cry the anarchists. 

No, it is laying siege to the state. Our state chapters will run on simple majoritarian lines; they will not have Senates and Supreme Courts and Governors with veto power. What they will have is the capacity to run statewide campaigns and contest state policies that impact the lives of working-class people. They will also encourage local chapters to collaborate, improve outreach outside the big cities, and alleviate some of the burden on the national organization—which has been charged with the impossible task of managing 235 locals.

Admittedly, there are some sparsely populated states with very few DSA chapters, and in these areas statewide organization could be impractical, at least in the short term. A United Dakota, North and South, might make sense for DSA’s purposes. Fusing states for tactical reasons is perfectly acceptable; the only inadvisable move would be creating regions that cut states into multiple pieces, preventing unified statewide campaigns.

Although a national organizing drive would be invaluable, DSA’s local groups can take the initiative right now. There is already an easy, underutilized process to integrate DSA chapters. According to DSA’s constitution, just two or more locals may petition to form a statewide organization, pending approval by the National Political Committee and a majority of locals within the state. A similar process is available for locals seeking to form regional organizations. 

4) Nurture a committed membership base.

What does it mean to be a DSA member? One impulse is to make it an extremely demanding, prestigious title—the Navy SEALs of activism. In his classic text on Marxist strategy What Is to Be Done?, Vladimir Lenin called for a disciplined party of professional revolutionaries. Should American socialists aim for the same thing?

No, because for Lenin, ruthless discipline was a necessary evil, not a virtue. Russian revolutionaries operated in a Tsarist police state where the slightest misstep invited discovery, police raids, and mass arrests. The United States is in many ways shockingly repressive, but it is not a tsarist autocracy. In our context, socialists have much more to learn from socialist parties outside the Russian Empire that maintained more open membership structures. They cultivated mass movements—millions strong—to build a vibrant oppositional culture against capitalism. They offered social services, opened libraries and grocery stores, set up cycling clubs, choir societies, picnics and social outings. Germany and Austria offer intriguing historical examples. Today, Bolivian socialists are doing similar inspirational work.

But we don’t just have to look abroad. There are non-socialist, all-American organizations in the United States that show us what dedicated membership looks like. In 2015 the National Rifle Association had 5 million dues-paying members, and nearly 15 million Americans identified with the organization whether they paid dues or not. It cultivates group identity with a wide array of community services—including an official magazine, concealed carry insurance, firearms training for millions, and opportunities to join its 125,000-strong army of training instructors. 

Yes, the NRA is a reactionary, racist organization, riddled with corruption and now in decline. We still have much to learn from it (not to mention the churches that, for better or worse, provide millions of Americans with social services and community life). There is thrilling potential for secular left-wing institution-building, from tenant unions and worker centers to art circles and sports clubs. During the COVID-19 pandemic, hiking clubs and other outdoor activities could be a particularly powerful social service, breaking people out of their isolation and alleviating mental health burdens. 

These ideas go beyond feel-good charity work. They are structured party programs, designed to build a massive support base that can be deployed for confrontational political action. They will cost quite a bit of cash.

This brings us to a crucially important, non-negotiable element of dedicated membership: monthly dues. Dues are the life-blood of a mass movement; they foster group identity, incentivize recruitment, and provide the party with a steady, predictable stream of revenue.

But what about low-income, working-class people? Couldn’t dues make the movement inaccessible to them?

Quite the opposite. Dues can be tapered based on income, and studies show that the poor give a greater portion of their income to charity than the rich. Asking people to pay a steady monthly fee is much more reasonable than bombarding them with fundraising emails that endlessly scream “give, give, give!” Nor is volunteer work a more accessible basis for membership than dues. Time is money, and every hour that a person spends with us is an hour that they could have spent working an extra shift or taking care of their children.

Dues allow us to make reasonable asks of others and avoid activist burnout. We don’t guilt-trip the single parent working two jobs or the exhausted volunteer with mental health burdens. We say: “Don’t worry. Take a break as long as you need to. Just help us stay afloat and keep paying your dues.” There will always be varying levels of involvement, and not all of us will be red Navy SEALs. Anyone who supports our mission, votes for our candidates, and pays their dues deserves to be called a member of the Socialist Movement.

We must still take measures to promote membership engagement. Only active members should get a vote in party affairs, and we should encourage all members to come to at least a few key events every year. All chapters need a point person to welcome newcomers and help them forge connections with other members, preventing locals from becoming insular social clubs. We will offer engaging, freewheeling education groups to introduce new members to our politics. All of this is necessary to make ourselves an “outward-looking minority.”

A key task for DSA will be to reevaluate and standardize its dues structure and perhaps ask a little more of its members. DSA membership is worth more than the current 67-cent monthly minimum. Rather than dismantling dues, as some anarchist-leaning caucuses have suggested, we must embrace and celebrate them as the foundation of a self-reliant movement.

5) Adopt a nationwide political platform.

DSA is currently working on a platform to synthesize its political demands. This is a very exciting development and an important step to assert ourselves as a distinct force in American politics. We should develop a truly revolutionary program that, if fully implemented, would hand power to our country’s working class and place society on a socialist transition out of capitalism. We must repeal every law that props up the two-party cartel and eliminate every institution that denies us an authentic majoritarian democracy. Abolish the Senate, abolish the Electoral College, and smash the Supreme Court—send Brett Kavanaugh and all his colleagues packing. 

So that working people can fully participate in political life, we should also demand unimpeded labor rights, a massive reduction in working hours, and a comprehensive welfare state that would make Scandinavians blush. Create programs to reduce the power of bureaucrats and give ordinary workers administrative skills; promote worker self-management in all industries. Place the commanding heights of the economy under public ownership and rapidly phase out fossil fuel production. Dismantle the repressive arms of the state: abolish the military and policing as we know it and replace both with a democratically-accountable popular militia. This last point will be challenging yet still indispensable. We must transform the empty demand for “police abolition” into appealing slogans and substantive policy proposals. 

We have our work cut out for us: we must develop a comprehensive program and find ways to promote it to a mass audience. Even so, we will not be working in isolation. We can learn from the history of past revolutions and from the platforms of our predecessors in socialist parties across the world. 

Is this project too arrogant? Will we alienate ordinary people if we draft a comprehensive platform instead of a short list of popular demands? If we treat the platform as an inalterable holy text, then yes. If we leave it open to regular revision and use it as part of our political education process, then no. The intuitive red-meat demands are indispensable: we should certainly continue to advance Medicare for All and other programs that improve the quality of life for the working class. But we will never achieve those demands unless we attack the political order that is making them unachievable. Our platform must point towards a break with the capitalist state and fight for an authentic working-class democracy. We need to build a constituency that believes in the legitimacy of that fight. A “political revolution” will not be enough to defeat America’s reactionary Old Regime. No, that will require a break of epoch-making proportions, a world-historic social revolution.

6) Run dedicated organizers for office.

Many “revolutionary” organizations have an impulse to steer clear of electoral politics. Stumping for office might seem to legitimize a system we want to overturn, so why do it?

The obvious answer is that the state has tremendous power and it already has legitimacy for most people. It will be here for quite a while. Retreating from the political arena does nothing to stop that. More importantly, electoral work done right can erode the legitimacy of the system and help us win the support of millions. Electoral campaigns can be used as a bully pulpit to attack the system and demand a new political order. Lenin did this, the German socialists did this, and so can we.   

Electoral politics can also embolden and merge with the combative worker and tenant struggles that often capture leftists’ attention. Bernie Sanders taught us that when he personally manned picket lines, and West Virginia teachers showed it when they drew inspiration from Bernie to go on strike.

What we need to avoid is getting sucked into another abusive coalition like Bernie. The key to this is recognizing the Democratic Party as the irredeemable zombie that it is. Bernie tried to heal the zombie and he got bitten hard. Instead of collaborating with the neoliberals, we should strive for total independence and self-sufficiency in our electoral bids. DSA could train and run gifted organizers who promise to coordinate their campaigns, accept the party platform, and vote as one bloc when elected. Candidates would be entirely free to personally disagree with elements of the platform and push for changes through internal party discussion. In the halls of power, however, they would be expected to act as one team, with accountability to the entire membership movement.

We see a preview of this approach in New York, where DSA recently ran a victorious slate of insurgent socialist candidates. If we hardened and expanded this approach nationwide, it would put us to the left of even the Squad–whose members have hesitated to endorse other primary challengers after winning office themselves. 

We would not align with the Democrats. Instead, wherever they won office, our candidates would form an independent socialist caucus. Both parties would be welcome to meet with us to discuss policy–at the opposite end of a long negotiating table. 

This approach would not win us much love from either side. Legislative committee appointments would be sparing or nonexistent, but that is okay. Establishment politicians may hammer us as useless backbenchers, but we would simply counter by pointing out how useless they are, listing off all the ways they have betrayed their constituents in the past. We would make use of our extra free time by serving as relentless advocates for the communities that they have ignored, publicizing socialist policy proposals, providing constituent services, and assisting local organizing projects. To show their dedication, our elected officials would refuse to take more than a typical working-class salary and donate the rest to our community programs. 

The value of electoral work done right cannot be understated. Many “revolutionary” leftists begrudgingly accept its necessity as a type of “propaganda,” but what passes for propaganda on the Left is often just obnoxious megaphone yammering. It would be better to describe it as a form of organizing, as outreach to carve out a constituency that believes in our cause. 

One popular idea in DSA is that candidates should always “run to win.” It is correct that we should be running professional campaigns, with talented candidates who truly want to come out victorious. If we finish with single-digit results, that is probably a sign that we ran our campaign poorly and need to reevaluate our strategy. However, it’s important to remember that the path to victory can be longer than one election cycle, and an honorable defeat can still build the movement. Cori Bush did not win her initial campaign in 2018, but now she is headed to Congress to join the Squad. Nor did Bernie Sanders win his first independent House bid in 1988–that took a second try in 1990. If we abandon every “loser” the moment they fall short, we may end up discarding capable leaders who still have future potential.

In the long run, our goal should be to run candidates for every office possible, even where we cannot win. This boosts our visibility as a national political movement and will help us extend our presence outside the large urban centers. Like Bernie, we must eagerly engage with rural, small-town, and Republican-leaning voters. If we abstain for fear of losing, we will never be able to build a truly national constituency.

7) Stop endorsing outside the party.

Once we have a training program for this new approach to electoral work, we must wind down the faucet of endorsements. DSA should focus all of its energy, messaging, and resources on promoting its own candidates: active, committed members who promise to uphold the platform. The only exception would be strategic collaboration with candidates from other independent left parties. Electoral pacts to avoid competition in certain districts may occasionally be necessary.

Cutting off endorsements may seem like a sectarian move, but it is perfectly reasonable. AOC and other Squad members are sparing with their primary endorsements; they have not mounted a massive assault against their Democratic colleagues. They have pragmatic obligations to attend to, and so do we. We should pour all our energy into cultivating talented candidates who are embedded in our organization and committed to building an independent movement. When we endorse candidates who are not directly accountable to our membership, we muddy the waters on what DSA stands for.

None of this means that we will run around viciously denouncing left Democrats and other progressive candidates. They are not responsible for this crisis. We will sometimes criticize their political strategy, but our fiery speeches will be reserved for the ghouls who actually hold the cards: Biden, McConnell, Kavanaugh, Barrett, and so on. When our rabble-rousing socialist backbenchers take up their seats, they may want to collaborate with the major parties from time to time, and left Democrats could end up playing a valuable role as mediators. And who knows? Some of them may be impressed by our new brand of politics and join our ranks. The goal is not to be sectarian. We are just stepping up to become self-reliant, to make our own independent mark on the world.

8) Choose ballot lines at the state level.

Should we keep running our candidates in Democratic primaries, or should we rush to set up our own ballot lines?

Every state has its unique convoluted rules, so there’s no easy answer to this question. That’s the point. Our system is designed to encourage incoherent thinking, to fragment and divide power to make majoritarian politics impossible. When future schoolteachers describe the decline and fall of the United States, they will point to its divided political system, the fifty jurisdictions marked out on a map. The children will laugh out loud and ask how it lasted so long.

The states have had third parties running like gerbils on a wheel, focusing all their energy on petition gathering and hopeless presidential campaigns (required to secure ballot access). Even staunch third party advocates like Hawkins know that it’s time to break the wheel and try something new. Perhaps we should ditch the ballot access crusades and just run nominal independents. That would allow us to stop running top-heavy presidential tickets, to be more discriminating about which elections we target. An interesting map comes together with a glance at state ballot access laws for House candidates:

Source: https://ballotpedia.org/Main_Page

Green states are reasonably friendly to independent bids. They require the same number of petition signatures as major-party candidates. Or, if the requirement is unequal, the total number of signatures needed is still 1,000 or fewer. Red states have clearly unequal requirements, although they are not necessarily insurmountable. Blue states have very different procedures for major party and independent candidates and are difficult to compare directly.

It’s clear that there are weak spots. California, Texas, and Florida all have equitable access for independents. Why run Democrats for the House in any of those easy states? 

Once we have dedicated state-level organizations, they will be able to make these judgment calls decisively. In New Jersey, where only 100 signatures are required for independent House bids and party machines brazenly rig their primaries, “clean break now” is an excellent approach. 

In Georgia, the rules for independents are extremely inhospitable and primaries are open to voters from any party. There, it would make sense to antagonize the Democrats with a large slate of DSA primary insurgents. For the sake of clear messaging, ballot line choices should generally be consistent across the entire state. We would confuse primary voters if we ran an independent in one congressional district, a Democrat in the one next door, and a Republican for a county office that overlaps both districts.

Even when we run in a party primary, we should still run our candidates on the DSA platform and be committed to political independence. The line could be this: “I’m running as a Democrat. It was the only way to get on the ballot. Once I’m elected, I’ll renounce my party affiliation and serve with the Socialist Independents.”

Off they will go to join the rest of our rabble-rousing backbenchers. Under this framework, the “dirty break” is no longer some vague goal that we banish to the distant future. It is something that we do every time we win an election, enraging both capitalist parties. Call it the filthy break – perhaps we will even run Socialist Republicans in Montana! Eventually, both parties should be expected to crack down and pass laws to close up their primaries. Hopefully, we will already have a mass constituency by that point. 

Right now, DSA prioritizes Democratic bids and neglects independent campaigns. That order should be reversed. Clean independent bids should always be prioritized, wherever we can realistically get a couple strong campaigns on the ballot. They establish our independence and make it clear to the public that we are not Democrats—that we are out to break the two-party system.

“But you’ll never win as an independent!” some will protest. “I did!” Bernie Sanders would have replied in 1990. It’s an uphill battle, but not an impossible one.

Vote-splitting is another valid concern. Unfortunately, it is a fact of life in any winner-take-all election. It happens in Democratic primaries (peace among worlds, Liz!). Even the fear of vote-splitting can do great damage to insurgent primary campaigns. NYC-DSA learned that the hard way when self-appointed socialist kingmaker Sean McElwee released a poll to deliberately tank Samelys López’s congressional bid, claiming that she would split the vote and put a conservative Democrat in office.

Vote-splitting will happen, and we will have to find ways to reduce the public’s fear of it. Establishing ourselves as a viable force worth splitting the vote for will be one important step. We will have to pick our campaigns carefully in the beginning to build capacity and establish a political foothold. But from the very outset, we must make it clear that we are intent on further expansion. The Socialist Movement has the right to run its candidates across the board, just like any other political party.

9) Target the House of Representatives.

What made the Bernie movement so powerful, so terrifying, so utterly invigorating for its participants? It was a national struggle for power.

That point deserves to be repeated: participation in the Bernie movement was participation in a national struggle for power. In the campaign’s words, it was a mission to “defeat Donald Trump and transform America.”

America alienates the U.S. left. We are not nationalists; we are not patriots. We reject much of the dominant culture. This makes it difficult for us to conceive of politics as a nationally coordinated struggle. It is much easier to think in terms of local organizing or international solidarity. Both are crucial projects. The working class has no country; the socialist movement must be international, and our work is hopeless without effective local organizers on the ground. 

But the best thing we can do for our local organizers is to integrate them into a coordinated movement for transformative change. The best thing that we can do to foster internationalism is build a real, unified revolutionary organization in America, a powerful socialist movement that can give inspiration to others around the world. 

If we play our hand well, our next national struggle will be different from Bernie’s in some important ways. We will be more ambitious, more independent, and less deferential to established institutions. Instead of trying to redeem the Democratic Party, we will oppose it head-on alongside the GOP. Instead of seeking a “political revolution” within the capitalist state, we will call for a world-historic revolution and a new political order: an authentic working-class democracy. How can we integrate our union work, tenant struggles, and electoral campaigns into this grand vision? Do we run another presidential campaign?

Not in 2024. Barring something completely unforeseen, we will not have the numbers, organization, and high-profile leaders necessary to mount an interesting presidential bid. We would waste precious volunteer hours collecting signatures and then come out with 1% of the vote. It would be hopping right back on the gerbil wheel. Once we have a larger base, we can contest the presidency (on a platform of abolishing the presidency by revolution).

But our main target should be the House of Representatives. It is a federal institution, elected every two years in local districts that are small enough for us to realistically target. We can run a National Slate of candidates, from Washington to Florida, from Michigan to Maine, and talk it up in our stump speeches. We can use the House as a national soapbox to publicize our demands. We will be speaking to America coast-to-coast, raising our public profile and giving a boost to all of our state and local candidates. The House is the most important electoral institution for us to contest in the years to come.

We can begin in the urban deep blue districts that Democrats have dominated, plus some red district bids to expand our repertoire. This will offer political choice to one-party districts that have had none for years, giving us a chance to establish viability. Then, as quickly as we can, we should strive to contest all 434 congressional seats, forcing a messy national referendum on our political demands every two years.

The next three points could be among the most important demands.

10) Organize for electoral reform.

We must demand an end to the two-party system. We should fight for easy ballot access for all political parties, ranked-choice voting and multi-member electoral districts, proportional representation in Congress, and anything else that gives working-class people more choice at the ballot box. In the wake of the 2020 Census and the GOP’s electoral fraud witch-hunt, a new wave of gerrymandering and voter suppression will be arriving very soon. In this political climate, our campaigns for electoral reform should be connected to wider efforts to protect voting rights, such as citizen redistricting panels and automatic voter registration.  

We must integrate these demands and advance them with incisive slogans, playing on popular antipathy to entrenched politicians and the two-party system. Many states have ballot initiative processes that we could use to our advantage, mobilizing voters to pass electoral reforms at the ballot box. Such campaigns have already been mounted by nonpartisan groups, successfully in Michigan, Maine, and Alaska (and unsuccessfully in Massachusetts). Although petition circulation requirements are often arduous, a volunteer-powered mass movement may well be able to blast through the obstacles.

Source: https://ballotpedia.org/States_with_initiative_or_referendum

Electoral reform campaigns are one more way to establish our political independence. They will also help us establish that socialists are champions of a richer democracy (and that the capitalist parties are not!).

11) Shoot down war budgets.

The U.S. spends more on its military than the next ten countries combined. Trillion-dollar slush funds, poured into graft, arms manufacturers, right-wing dictatorships, and bloody imperialistic ventures all over the world. That is no secret; it is common knowledge to tens of millions of Americans.

We cut ourselves apart through total noncooperation. We should refuse to vote for any spending bill that pours one more penny into the bloated military, police departments, or any other repressive capitalist institution.

If we do this, will we cause endless government shutdowns? Unlikely. The Republicans and Democrats will pass their “bipartisan” budgets right over our heads. Drop a heavy boulder into a creek, and the water finds its way around it. But it gives us something to stand on to capture public attention, to erode the legitimacy of an institution that Americans are taught to view as sacrosanct.

12) Demand a new constitution.

What is a demand that would truly set us apart, that would bring the Right’s worst nightmares to life?

Demand a New Union. A new constitution, developed by mass popular participation. Not an Article V convention. No state-by-state ratification. An accessible process that everyone within the borders of the United States can contribute to, combining grassroots direct democracy with a National Constituent Assembly. The final ratification would be by national referenduma simple majority vote.

In a free society, everyone gets a say in the social contract that they live under. That is not what happened when the current constitution was written. Women had no say; black people had no say; working-class people had no say. We demand that the living, breathing people of the United States be given the right to determine its future. We demand a constitution that guarantees real democracy, majority rule, housing, healthcareeconomic rights. 

We will be quite clear about the additional reforms that we would advocate throughout the process: abolish the Senate, abolish the presidency, abolish the Supreme Court. All power to an expanded, improved, democratized House of Representatives.

“We demand that Congress initiate this process, but if it does not, the people have a right to do so themselves.”

There is a legitimate argument to be made that the Constitution can be legally amended by referendum. This deserves an article of its own, and we should certainly invoke constitutional law as needed. Of course, none of our opponents will take our arguments too seriously. Revolutions make their own laws, and what we demand is nothing less than a world-historic revolution against the forces of Old America.

Let the Trumpers fume over the socialist plot to destroy the Constitution. Let the liberals lecture us about the dangers of norm erosion. Obama can start an NGO to educate young people about the beauty of our institutions and the farsighted wisdom of our Founding Fathers. We alienate most people at first, but we strike a chord with a sizable minority. And every year, we build it out, leaning into every crisis, growing, until finally something snaps.

That is the last point. To recap all twelve:

    1. Declare political independence.
    2. Hold annual conventions.
    3. Form statewide organizations.
    4. Cultivate a committed membership base. 
    5. Adopt a nationwide political platform.
    6. Run dedicated organizers for office.
    7. Stop endorsing outside the party.
    8. Choose ballot lines at the state level.
    9. Target the House of Representatives.
    10.  Agitate for electoral reform.
    11.  Shoot down war budgets.
    12.  Demand a new constitution.

Perhaps these suggestions are unrealistic. They may demand too much of a small organization like DSA; they may overestimate the potential of the era we are living in. But even if we try them and fail, at least we will fail on our own terms, in a more instructive way than ever before. Progressive reform movements rise and fall, both inside and outside the Democratic Party. For decades they have led us to defeat, cooptation, and humiliation. Many generations of the American Left have grown exhausted with this ritual, but instead of building a real alternative, the disenchanted vent their frustration with performative action. Endless rallies, megaphone chants, and radical posturing take us nowhere. Localist organizing projects “feel good,” but they completely lose sight of the national struggle for power.

“And you ought to be careful of them, they’ll overthrow you too.”
–Trump to Biden on the Left

What we need are performative restraint and political aggression. Independent politics is not a distant end goal; it is not something we earn after working hard enough for the Democratic coalition. It is the heart of the socialist project, the foundation of effective revolutionary struggle, and something that we ought to start doing right now. The time has come to forge a new strategy that draws on the best of the Bernie campaign and everything that came before it. A fearless strategy, hardheaded yet still principled, that never loses sight of the real end goal: a world-historic, working-class revolution in the USA.

And the goal of this piece is to contribute some starting points. 

Without a Party, We Have Nothing

Donald Parkinson responds to Taylor B’s Beginning’s of Politics: DSA and the Uprising, arguing that a workers’ party is necessary to advance an emancipatory politics. 

Communist Party rally in 1930s, NYC

The past eight months have been unlike any other. Political strife in the Democratic Primary had already been taking place when the Covid-19 pandemic brought about a massive health crisis coupled with economic dislocation that led to historic levels of unemployment. It was only a matter of time before mass unrest began, with the murder of George Floyd by the police state acting as the spark that set into motion months of protesting and rioting. In these months countless Americans had their first taste of collective political action. The intensity of the wave of struggles for many felt like a rupture with the past. Politics was no longer confined to the plaything of property owners and technocratic experts but something contested by the plebian masses in struggle. 

This feeling of a decisive break, of a new qualitative situation, is what leads Taylor B to declare the rise of democratic socialism through the Sanders campaign and the mass protests of Black Lives Matter as a “birth of politics”, a singular event that in its own processes of social mobilization create new possibilities for a future communist horizon. This feeling of a qualitative break leads him to see these events as singular, as heralding a new creative process that will break from all the old muck of the past and create new forms of organization. It is this approach that leads Taylor B to mistakenly declare that in this singular process we must instead declare our fidelity to the spontaneous energies of the event, to see where it goes and what it creates rather than trying to impose our own ideas upon it. And the most dangerous of those ideas is the notion of the workers’ party, which Taylor B declares to be a force of neutralization in the current conjuncture. 

What we find here is a logic of movementism and spontaneism where the energies unleashed by social movements and mass actions are seen organically leading to a higher form. This is essentially the argument of Rosa Luxemburg’s Mass Strike – that the workers’ movement in struggle will find the solutions to its problems and develop new forms of organization that can apply these solutions. The arguments were taken to a greater extreme by the council communists like Anton Pannekoek, who eventually rejected the party as a force of neutralization much like Taylor B does in Birth of Politics. As Mike Macnair has pointed out, these ideas have far more in common with the political approach of the anarchist Mikhail Bakunin than his main rivals of the time in the First International, Karl Marx and Engels.

The appeal of spontaneism and movementism is a common and popular reaction to the reality of countless sectarian Leninist groups who claim to be holders of the true wisdom of Marxism that will organize and lead the proletarian revolution. When the inability of these sects to consciously engineer a revolutionary movement from above into existence is clear, the appeal of a solution from below is seductive. The masses, uncorrupted by the sectarian dogmas of the failing left, will bring a new sense of energy and vision into play and overcome the forces of the old, bringing the new politics of the genuine social movement to the fore. The failure of the socialist sects to find a solution to the problems that socialists face today makes hope in the purity of social movements and their spontaneous motion almost common sense in the activist left. 

The problem with this approach is that it contradicts the very goal of communism itself. Communism, at least in part, can be understood as the conscious planning and democratic control of the producers of over society. Capitalism creates forms of domination and control that appear as impersonal forces of the market throwing us around according to the whims of profit. The anarchy of capitalism, or its lack of planning, means that our social and productive processes dominate us (the human species) as an arbitrary force, just as religious fetishizations dominate traditional religious communities as forces beyond their control. It is for this reason that the conscious planning of society in communism is not an incidental feature but a part of its very nature as a social system. 

The party, an instrument of conscious political vision, is counterposed to the spontaneous unconscious energies of the mass movements unleashed by the Bernie campaign and Black Lives Matter. It is no wonder that Taylor B sees Black Lives Matter as containing more potential despite its admitted domination by the petty-bourgeois; while Black Lives Matter is technically a non-profit foundation with its own organizational existence, it’s clear that the energy of the movement is in the uncontained moments of rebellion where street fighting against the cops. The amount of energy expressed by the masses in the street is nothing to write off, and it is easy to see why so much of the left invest more hope in these moments of unmediated attacks on the state than the sloganeerings of sects selling newspapers. In moments like this, it is tempting to say, as Taylor B does, that the masses in struggle are more politically advanced than the various leftist sectarians.

Yet if we understood communism to be a project of humanity talking conscious control of its own conditions of existence, then placing hope in the unconscious spontaneous energy of mass actions is not sufficient. Yes, we can find levels of organization emerge from the movements of the crowd, with the formation of assemblies, affinity groups, and even new nonprofits as initiatives from activists. It would be a mistake to deny the obvious creativity that arises from mass movements like the ones we saw this summer. Yet it would be an even bigger mistake to declare that this creativity can produce the organization and class consciousness needed to transform the existing class struggle into one that can transcend capitalism. 

If we accept that the conscious planning of social-productive processes to meet the needs of the human species is a defining quality of communism, then we should also be willing to apply this principle to communist politics. As partisans of communism who believe that we have a duty to fight for our ideas, it is necessary that we develop an analysis of our situation, determine what is needed to further advance the struggle for communism, develop a plan of action based on this analysis, and put it into practice. We look at the social forces that promulgated these dynamics, but it is necessary to also analyze how our situation fits in a broader historical struggle of the proletariat throughout history. We cannot develop an entirely new form of struggle or organization for any given conjuncture but instead look to our past for insight into how we can best act and develop a strategy that can help us spearhead the class war towards communism. After all, the current conjuncture isn’t something simply unfolding before our eyes as passive observers. We can analyze the situation and collectively act in ways informed by our analysis to influence its unfolding.

But who is this ‘we’ that I speak of? Is it whoever jumps into the crowd with a hope for liberation or a desire to break with the current order? Is it only other leftists? Other Marxists? To ask the strategic question of ‘what is to be done?’, there needs to be a collective ‘we’ that can act as a subject. Otherwise ‘we’ are simply acting as individuals, an affinity group in the streets, a nonprofit, or a temporary general assembly that will only last as long as people can stay in the streets. Questions like “should we focus on building unions or elections, should we oppose the war, should we form a coalition with this party, should we organize nation-wide demonstrations, should we form an armed struggle?” all only make sense when the ‘we’ in question is some kind of organized collectivity that already has unified around a certain goal. Otherwise one is simply shouting at the atomized masses hoping they will follow. 

The ‘party’ is simply this organized collectivity that allows a ‘we’ to form and act in a decisive way. This is to say nothing of what a party looks like, which I have said more about in other places. In this instance, I am focusing on and arguing on a more abstract philosophical level about why the party is necessary. This is not the imposition of an abstract historical model completely foreign to the conjuncture as Taylor B claims. The call for a party is instead a call for strategy and the capacity to put it into practice through forming a political subject, a ‘we’ that can pose and answer questions through collective action. 

I do not doubt that Taylor B accepts the need for strategy and an organized political subjectivity that can put it into practice. The problem is that he sees the current political sequence as a singularity that exists in a break with the past so radical that it will herald a completely novel form of political subjectivity, leaving us incapable of learning from the accumulated lessons of the past. There supposedly has been such a radical break in history that these accumulated lessons can only be the “traditions of generations weighing on us like living nightmares”. Arguments like this can be found everywhere, from ultra-left proponents of the immediate communization of society like the journal Endnotes to left-populists like Laclau and Mouffe. The old forms of worker identification and the corresponding forms of organization such as the party and union were expressions of a historically specific era that is long gone. Today we will see new forms of subjectivity and organizational forms, and those who raise the old forms of a bygone era are simply imposing a nostalgic past onto the present. Or so the argument typically goes. 

I like to call these types of arguments the ‘appeal to novelty’. The version of it that Taylor B cites is an essay by Sylvain Lazarus, “Lenin and the Party, 1902 – November 1917”. Its argument is worth summarizing before dissecting, as it gives us a sophisticated version of the ‘appeal to novelty’ argument. Lazarus begins by saying that the notion of ‘the party’ is the basis of politics in the 20th Century, which is an innovation marked by Lenin’s What Is To Be Done in rupture with the previous conception of politics which centered on the insurrection of the class, exemplified by the Paris Commune and the ideas of Marx. Lenin’s development of the thesis explicated in What Is To Be Done is seen as a break from Marx’s idea of the class as the revolutionary subject: 

In What Is to Be Done? Lenin broke with the thesis of Marx and Engels in the Communist Manifesto (1848) with regard to the spontaneous character of the appearance of  Communists within the modern proletariat. In contrast to the Marxist thesis that can be stated as “Where there are proletarians, there are Communists,” Lenin opposed spontaneous consciousness and Social Democratic (that is, revolutionary) consciousness and stretched this opposition to the limit.1

This break with Marx is said to comprise a new sequence, the discovery of a truth that marks an era which demonstrates this truth. Yet the sequence comes to an end in 1917, as ‘the party’ is now something that becomes intertwined with the state. Now one can only speak of the ‘state party’, a force of conservatism because of its ‘standing over society’. A new sequence begins, and the word becomes ‘revolution’ rather than ‘party’. What this means is unclear beyond the fact that a new form of politics that goes beyond the party. Rather than seeking state power, it seeks its “subversion, its transitory cessation”.2 In his rejection of a politics oriented around state power and the party, Lazarus goes so far as to say the signifier of ‘revolution’ should be rejected as it “is a nonpolitical, historicist notion, reducing the thought of politics, its condition of possibility, to that of an event character in exteriority, and placing this latter in a chain in which ‘party’ and ‘state’ also figure…rendered obsolete in 1968, as far as France is concerned.”3 

My first reaction to Lazarus’ argument here is that he’s making a claim that’s impossible to disprove because it’s impossible to prove. Looking at history and developing a periodization can be useful. That said, one has to ask whether they are imposing a periodization by coming up with a conclusion and then reading history backward to validate that conclusion. Historical narratives are supposed to be explanatory, and the only thing that Lazarus’ narrative explains is why he thinks we need to abandon all the past concepts of Marxist politics and come up with something completely novel.

Problems with method aside, the narrative Lazarus paints is simply not true. Lenin was not breaking with the political practice or conceptions of Marx and Engels in What Is To Be Done? and wasn’t making any kind of original argument. As Lars Lih has pointed out, What Is To Be Done? Is an impressive exercise in aggressive unoriginality. Lenin’s arguments about the need for class consciousness to be brought from without due to the inadequacy of economic struggles to develop into Social-Democratic politics on their own is simply an application of Karl Kautsky’s ‘merger formula’. The merger formula postulates that socialist intellectuals such as Marx and Engels developed their applications from a study of history and political economy, while the working class by necessity organized into a labor movement to collectively defend its conditions within capitalism. The socialist intellectuals, consciously dedicated partisans of political conviction, must merge their knowledge with the working-class movement by uniting to form a party dedicated to the cause of socialist revolution that is armed with a scientific theory of social change. Kautsky based this idea on the very life and work of Marx and Engels themselves, as he shows in his pamphlet The Historical Accomplishment of Karl Marx. By heralding Lenin’s theory of the party as a radical break from Marx, Lazarus falls into the trappings of Cold War historiography as well the myths that Leninist sects tell themselves about the “party of a new type”. 

What Lazarus is doing is projecting a radical break into history so as to justify that another radical break is necessary. Lenin (supposedly) broke with Marx’s view of the class as the subject of revolution with his view of the party in order to successfully seize power in October. Then the party became a source of conservatism through its merging with the state after October, meaning that if we are to truly be working in the spirit of Lenin then another break is necessary, this time with the party itself. Yet the break never really happened in the first place. Marx himself fought to form the workers’ party in his own time and struggled within it for programmatic clarity. His own life was an example of the merger formula in practice. Kautsky merely systematized it and Lenin applied it to Russian conditions.  

Lazarus’ periodization is essentially just an assertion of novelty to the expense of continuity, showing history as a series of sequences where each represents a clean break from the prior where a totally different type of politics is necessitated by history. What exactly changes in terms of socio-economic conditions to produce these sequences and necessitates the accompanying break in political frameworks is left to the imagination. Against this vision of history as pure novelty, we must instead see the continuity in history so as to better assimilate the accumulated past struggles of the proletariat and oppressed, building on the years of trial and error practice passed down to us by our forebearers to produce the institutions and knowledge that exist with us today. Lenin was not simply analyzing the immediate conjuncture he faced and drawing conclusions from its immanent tendencies to produce practice. He was applying knowledge and practices passed to him by years of prior political experience. 

Lenin was working with the tradition of Russian populism and its accumulated years of failure to produce a real social revolution against Czarism. Using a flawed strategy of terrorism and reliance on the spontaneous energies of the peasantry awakened by a minority of the intelligentsia, Lenin looked for solutions that at first weren’t obvious fits for his conditions. He saw one in the massive success of the German Social Democratic Party, which unified under a programme based on Marxism to build a party supported by millions of workers. The German Social Democratic movement itself existed in continuity with the traditions of Chartism, radical republicanism, and Germany’s own national history of labor struggle and peasant rebellion. All of these accumulated experiences of class struggle constitute the tradition of communist activity that not only Lenin was embedded in, but contemporary communists too, for better or worse. 

It is for this reason that I reject both Lazarus’ periodization and Taylor B’s use of it to argue that “we must proceed from a break to do politics under present conditions” just as “Marx broke with the utopian socialists. Lenin broke with Marx. The Cultural Revolution can be read as Mao’s break with Marxism-Leninism to free politics from the party-state.” By positing history as a sequence of decisive clean breaks rather than a flux of novelty and continuity it breaks us off from the past generations of class struggle, forcing the left to completely reinvent politics for every historical sequence we encounter. Any concrete situation in history is a completely unique conjuncture while also embedded in a web of determinations that are the product of generations of social practices all corresponding with humanity’s need to interface with nature. Situating ourselves in the conjuncture means looking through all of history at the accumulated lessons given to us by these social practices and building on them, throwing off the muck of the past that harms us while preserving those ideas and practices that correctly orient us, continuing the work of those before us. 

With this perspective, it is easy to see how it is not idealist to react to the current situation by pursuing the organization of a workers’ party. Those of us who engage in such pursuits continue the work of generations of partisans before us and carry with them their lessons and methods. To build on these methods and apply them to the conditions we face is not forcing something foreign and alien upon our current circumstances. These circumstances do not exist in a vacuum completely outside of a broader historical continuity. 

What is idealist is to assume a break in history where political actors will completely reinvent the old forms and subjectivities without building upon the historical traditions they are embedded in. We are more atomized and depoliticized than ever before, so it is easier to see ourselves as disembedded from the past and in a unique historical position where we must go back to the drawing board and completely reinvent politics in order to relate to our times. Yet this disembeddedness is an illusion, as is the accompanying notion that we can reinvent politics without regard for the traditions of the past.

Any attempt to reinvent politics in such a way will inevitably be pure improvisation. Any situation requires improvisation, a “concrete analysis of a concrete situation”. But improvisation in politics requires knowledge of our methods of struggle, a body of organizational and political knowledge that serves as a basis. When we disembed ourselves from the past and seek to reinvent our methods of struggle with every new phase of history (however these phases are defined) we end up losing this knowledge and having to purely improvise in the dark. And this improvisation will fall into the dominant thought patterns of bourgeois-liberal society. 

This is why Althusser spoke of the spontaneous ideology of scientists and it also makes sense to speak of the spontaneous ideology of activists.4 In seeking to achieve political goals, activists come upon limitations and dead ends, just as scientists come to across moments of crisis in their fields. The activist will seek to solve these problems and limitations within the ideological framework that is dominant in society, just as the scientist turns to idealist philosophy despite the realist and materialist nature of their practice. Today, when coming across the limitations of the current moment, activists will turn towards liberal and anarchist ideas unless a coherent alternative is posed. Rather than leading to an overcoming of the dominant framework, spontaneity tends to favor it. 

This is why Lenin spoke of the need to “combat spontaneity”. For Lenin, the role of the party was introducing a social-democratic consciousness that was not seen as possible through the accumulation of economic struggles alone. The fact that the accumulations of economic struggles would not lead to the spontaneous generation of social-democratic consciousness was what necessitated the party. Lenin saw that communist politics requires challenging the dominant worldview, and the party allowed this to be done in a conscious and systematic way.  This is the lesson of What Is To Be Done, and it should be seen as a lesson that is not particular to a certain phase of history as Lazarus would have it but rather universal to politics itself. The battle for hegemony must be a protracted and systematic struggle that pushes against the dominant ideas of society while putting forward a real alternative. 

My argument is not that we don’t need change and innovative ways of thinking and organizing, but simply that we don’t fix what isn’t broken. The party-form is not itself the agent of neutralization against emancipatory potentials that need to be broken with. Rather than being the cause of bureaucratism and other sources of revolutionary degeneration, the party is the precondition for solving these problems. There is a class struggle within the party itself, between the petty-bourgeois bureaucracy and the proletarians they represent. When Taylor B speaks of the party-form as the source of neutralization, it is the victory of this petty-bourgeois stratum that is actually the source of neutralization, not the essence of the party itself. By conducting the struggle to control party bureaucracy and democratize its organizations, the proletariat itself learns how to govern society as a class. 

Building the workers’ party allows us to constitute the proletariat into higher forms of political subjectivity by creating a collectivity that consciously and deliberately works to solve these problems. It allows us to actually become a force that can contest the class power of our enemies by out-organizing and out-strategizing them. To have any discussion about revolutionary strategy, develop an actionable plan, and put it into practice, a party is needed. Revolutionaries throughout history have realized this. Seeing the futility of endless street protests regardless of how militant, Huey Newton reacted to the challenges faced by struggling Black proletarians by helping form the Black Panther Party: 

The movement was cresting around the country. Brothers on the block in many northern cities were moving angrily in response to the problems that overwhelmed them. New York and other eastern cities had exploded in 1964, Watts went up in 1965, Cleveland in 1966, and in 1967 another long hot summer was approaching. But the brothers needed direction for their energies. The Party wanted no more spontaneous riots, because the outcome was always the same: the people might liberate their territories for a few short days or hours, but eventually the military force of the oppressor would wipe out their gains. Having neither the strength nor the organization, the people were powerless. In the final analysis, riots caused only more repression and the loss of brave men. Blacks bled and died in the riots and went to jail on petty or false charges. If the brothers could be organized into disciplined cadres, working in broadly based community programs, then the energy expended in riots could be directed toward permanent and positive changes.5

Newton’s words are incredibly prescient today, as months of street protests in the US come up against the reality of the left’s actual organizational powerlessness and incapacity to provide an alternative to the existing regime. Mass actions, riots, general strikes – these are not substitutes for having the organizational capacity to govern. Even if the latest wave of protest had brought the government down, the reality would have been the military enforcing a constitutionally legal transition to a replacement government, led by the same parties that were there before. 

Contrary to Taylor B, I believe that Marx did have a theory of politics. While it would take figures such as Engels, Bebel, Kautsky, and Lenin to systematize it, Marx ultimately believed that politics was about classes contesting, taking, and holding power. Communism relied on the proletariat taking power on an international scale, which required a protracted struggle where the proletariat organized itself as a class that could pose as an alternative to capitalist society. To do this, the proletariat had to form a party and learn to self-govern by organizing on the national and international scales and waging a political battle for radical democratic-republicanism and the socialization of production. 

Unlike the socialist sectarians of today and of his own time, Marx fought for a party that would be based on unity around a political program, not a specific theoretical creed or philosophical dogma. Marx fought for the unity of all principled revolutionaries around a strategy for the proletariat to constitute itself as a class and fight for political power, not for the purity of a micro-sect. Many are wary of the project of party-building today because of the toxic attitudes of sectarians who promote disunity, and one should not mistake my argument in favor of a workers’ party as an argument for a new sect. What is needed is the unity of Marxists within the existing left around a program of class independence and a strategy of building a party that will organize working-class communities and contest elections. Such unity will require a breakup of sectarian identities in favor of collaboration and mergers, and will not be easily won. Yet the development of arguments like those made by the comrades in Red Star DSA show a potential for such an initiative in the left. One thing is for sure – without a party, we have nothing. Because without a party, there is no ‘we’. 

Revolutionary Parliamentarism with August Nimtz

Parker and Peter join August Nimtz, the author of Lenin’s Electoral Strategy (now reprinted as The Ballot, The Streets– or Both) to discuss how Lenin and the Bolsheviks approached electoral politics and what we can learn from them to apply to today’s situation. They talk about the origins of Nimtz’s research project as an attempt to refute the point that electoralism must mean programmatic compromises, the influence on Lenin of Marx and Engels’ 1850 address to the Communist League, and how Lenin’s relation to the ballot depended on the temperature of the street and meant alternating boycotts with participation on an independent ballot line. They pivot towards analyzing the behavior and discipline of the Bolshevik faction including the consistent attempts to build an alliance with the peasantry, and the contrast between the Bolsheviks and the pre-WW1 German Social-Democratic Party, and the role of democratic centralism in disciplining parliamentary factions. They end with a reflection of what the ballot means today.

Works mentioned: Marx & Engels, Address of the Central Committee to the Communist League (1850): https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1847/communist-league/1850-ad1.htm

Marx & Engels, Demands of the Communist Party in Germany (1848): https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1848/03/24.htm

Marx & Engels, Circular Letter to Bebel, Liebknecht, Bracke and Others (1879): https://marxists.catbull.com/archive/marx/works/1879/09/18.htm

Hold Your Fire!: A Warning to the Left

Daniel Newman urges patience and caution in the face of current political turmoil. 

The worst economic crisis since the Great Depression. The deadliest pandemic since the Spanish Flu. The largest protest wave in U.S. history. The most dangerous political tensions in recent memory.

Our world is in crisis and you are afraid. Your friends are afraid. This is natural and inevitable. The question is how to grapple with this fear appropriately–how to channel it in a way that is rational and productive.

We are socialists and aspiring revolutionaries. Most of us are young, although this is of course not always the case. And we are dreading–and dreaming–of a fight. On one hand we are overjoyed by the unprecedented popular rebellion. On another we are enraged by the brutality of the police and disgusted by the hypocrisy of the liberal establishment. On one day we are terrified of impending violence and repression. On another we fear that this whole situation is a mirage and a waste of time, that we will always be marginal and politically impotent. 

Even the tension between these emotions can be extremely distressing. It is enough to make any radical daydream about picking up a gun and marching to war.

But this is not a war and you are not a soldier. You do not have military assets. You almost certainly lack military training. You do not serve in a unit, report to commanding officers, or live out your life in a barracks. A mass protest wave is not a war; a riot is not a war; even sectarian murder in the street is not, in itself, a war. If you pretend that these things are a literal war, you are at best a child playing with toy soldiers. At worst, you are putting yourself and your comrades at risk of injury, humiliation, even death, all for the sake of your ego.

The best thing you can be right now is patient. You can rise to the occasion and do the work our time demands with tremendous courage and dignity. But only if you accept that this work is almost entirely boring and unglamorous. You must observe the new world around you with a sober mind. Although it may fill you with terror and inspiration, do not let these feelings intoxicate you, and never pretend that you can predict the future. There are only a range of possibilities, some more likely than others, and some that will go completely unforeseen.

What Is Happening?

In your political reflections, you are probably used to thinking in terms of years (often single election cycles) or decades (when reflecting on long-term strategies). But right now you are being forced to think and live on a dramatically different time scale, one much shorter than what you are used to. Even the next two months seem impossible to imagine.

Political tensions are escalating. Urban unrest will continue to some degree, and the Right will continue to retaliate with despicable violence. We have yet to see whether the murders in Kenosha will encourage a protracted wave of right-wing attacks. Given the overt complicity of police and right-wing media, this seems quite likely.

American society has polarized in a way that is extraordinarily one-sided. Roughly one-third of the population has joined a paranoid right-wing lynch mob. Its champion is Trump, his family dynasty, and his court of lackeys and bootlickers. Hunting like a pack of wolves, the mob finds enemies around every corner and lumps all of them together. As socialists, we resent Biden and Trump, the Democratic Party and the Republicans. The Right does not perceive these divisions. It sees a united terrorist conspiracy of Antifa-Biden-Atheist-Communist-Muslim-illegal-Democrats, funded by Jewish bankers and Satanic pedophiles. MAGA loyalism has become a permanent political identity in the United States. Its hats may be red and it may “back the blue,” but its true color has always been the fiery orange of Donald Trump. It is armed to the teeth and thirsty for blood.

MAGA loyalists are dreaming of a savage civil war, but there will be no civil war. The vast majority of leftists understand this, but the point cannot be emphasized enough. There is no army interested in fighting such a war. The police may firmly support Trump, but they are schoolyard bullies with no capacity to fight a real army. Their armored cars would be flattened in ten seconds by the tanks of the U.S. military.

And the military will act as one unit; it will not fracture into opposing sides. In the event of a disputed election, the military can be expected to present a face of cold neutrality, likely taking cues from other institutions such as Congress and the Secret Service. Its real concern will be to preserve order and the illusion of a democratic transition. Talk of impending civil war is extremely irresponsible and only gives fuel to the Right’s demented fantasies.

That leaves open the possibility of massive demonstrations, street fights, riots, and even terrorism, but not an actual civil war. Nor will it be a revolution. Not when the leader of the glorious Resistance is Joe Biden, a rule-follower and good old boy who will always prefer order to justice. The real decision-makers, the higher-ups orange and blue–Republican and Democrat–will almost certainly reach a settlement by January. I won’t pretend to foresee the specific details. No one can.

But our side–the real reds–will not get a slice of the cake. Not only socialists, but the entire progressive-minded constituency we appeal to will face repression, no matter who wins. An incoming Biden administration will be eager to distance themselves from and make an example of “violent” leftist protesters. The Democrats love bipartisanship. As defeated MAGA loyalists vent their rage in the streets, our new rulers will be anxious to launch an equal-opportunity crackdown. They will neutralize the wildest Trumpers by locking them up, and then they will appease the rest by arresting the rioters on our side.

There’s nothing good coming soon. That leaves you with two options. Flame out, or hold your fire and build something.

It’s all too easy to flame out in anger and desperation. You would not be the first young revolutionary to do it. Faced with electoral defeat and police repression, the Weather Underground took that path in the late 1960s and ’70s. As a radical splinter from the Students for a Democratic Society, the flagship organization of the 1960s campus left, they had grown quite tired of weak-tea social democracy. Eager for something more exciting, they raged and rioted all across America, plotting and scheming and blowing up buildings. 

They bombed the Pentagon, the Capitol Building, the very heart of the federal government, all to bring on the revolution and destroy the American empire. It didn’t happen. All they destroyed was an endless lineup of ladies’ restrooms where they chose to plant their explosives. After a decade of hardship on the run, they finally learned that they could not overthrow America by vandalizing toilets.

Wanted poster for Weather Underground members

On the bright side, you can meet them if you like. They’re alive and well today, and doing fine for themselves as writers, lawyers and professors. They’re still active in politics as well: some of them are working quite hard for Joe Biden.

They were intelligent young people with good intentions and in terms of underlying character, not very different from us. Their grief was the same as ours. They lived through an atrocious colonial war, riots, unprecedented protests, and the election of a vicious reactionary president. Fred Hampton, the great Black Panther leader, furiously demanded that they restrain themselves. Then the FBI and Chicago Police Department murdered Fred Hampton in his own bed, as he slept with his pregnant wife.

The times drove the Weathermen to irrational and ineffective violence. They were an extreme case, a fringe within a fringe. But their irresponsible decisions embodied and hastened the decay of the 1960s left.

You have fewer excuses than they do. There was less cause for hope in the late 1960s and 1970s, more cause for total desperation. The urban riots of that era were almost completely contained in black communities—rage vented inward, excited by radical politics but incapable of truly advancing them. The white student left was courageous and filled with visionaries, but its principal grievance was limited to the Vietnam War. As that conflict was wound down, so too did white student revolt. State repression continued and the broad antiwar movement slowly died out, leaving the radical remnant to stew in their anger and grief.

Whatever we may be facing, it is not the end of mass revolt. It is a new beginning, the fitful awakening of Revolutionary America. We have witnessed something truly unprecedented in living U.S. history: an interracial uprising against police brutality, black people and white people, and many others physically fighting against state violence side by side. Our anger is not aimless; it is politicized. It has attacked political targets, invented political slogans, and raised explicitly political demands. Meanwhile, the broad social democratic movement–led until recently by Bernie Sanders–has displayed more focus and more hardheaded ambition than the freewheeling radicalism of the ‘60s left. Like the George Floyd Rebellion, its grievances are domestic, rooted in profound inequality and economic hardship. Its discontent will not easily be quelled, not without transformative changes to American society. 

Although it may seem counterintuitive, these domestic grievances are also good for socialist internationalism. Every major college campus in America has its feel-good internationalists who protest against war as a pure show of idealism. But real internationalism, the kind that can mobilize and sustain millions of people, draws connections between struggles abroad and lived experiences at home. It is easier to sympathize with Palestinian demonstrators when you yourself have been tear-gassed by police. It is easier to be enraged by the coup in Bolivia when you yourself have organized with a democratic socialist movement.

Real international solidarity is a two-way street. You both take and give inspiration. That is why the Russian revolutionaries fought for a revolution that would spread across Europe, why the Sandinistas hoped to spark revolt against dictatorships throughout Latin America, and why Irish revolutionaries dreamt of “taking their place among the republics of the world.” It is also why the George Floyd Rebellion inspired anti-racism demonstrations from Germany to Japan, and why volunteers across the globe traveled to America to assist the Bernie Sanders campaign. Despite decades of humiliation, the U.S. working class is beginning to display moments of exemplary struggle.

Our struggle is political. Bernie Sanders raised the pride, dignity, and self-esteem of a generation, giving it a new conception of its human rights and historic destiny. Despite his profound shortcomings, his disastrous defeat, and his cowardly sell-out to Joe Biden, engagement in the Bernie campaign was never a waste of time for leftists. Those of us who organized for him were exactly where we were supposed to be, playing out our part in a historical process that is much larger than any of us.

What the Hell to Do?

Your job now is to keep the flame burning, to help build a stronger vessel for working-class discontent than the Bernie Sanders campaign. Where can we do that? In the streets, with sticks and stones?

Absolutely not. Protests, even spectacular mass actions, are a useful way to harden our resolve, show our numbers, deliver immediate retaliation, and advance specific goals. They are certainly a necessary tool. But when activists artificially prolong and escalate them, they become an aimless ritual for thrill-seekers. The adrenaline of endless street rallies impedes sober reflection on political goals, making it harder for us to convert our attention-grabbing slogans into an inspiring vision. We have seen this dynamic many times since the eruptions in late May. Protest militants raise the most “radical” rallying cries they can imagine, such as full police abolition. Then, when asked hardheaded questions about what “abolition” actually means, they falter. Even the president of the Minneapolis City Council drifted into such vague posturing when she dismissed as “privileged” the question of how home invasions would be dealt with in a police-free world. 

None of this is an insult to those of us who have risked life and limb in the streets. It is simply the invisible toll, mental and physical, of a strategy that focuses entirely on “action.” Prolonged exposure to stressful situations—including unpredictable demonstrations—raises cortisol levels in the body, increasing heart rate, blood pressure, anxiety, depression, fatigue, and irritability. This is only compounded by the constant stream of upsetting news that we are receiving daily from both friends and the media. Comrades should strive to avoid unnecessary stressors, exercise frequently, and recognize that all of us are experiencing heightened anxiety and lapsed judgment.

If there is anything you should learn from this ongoing protest wave, it should be the following:

1) The United States needs a profound, world-historic revolution.

2) Riots and unrest are not sufficient to bring one about.

If riots and unrest won’t cut it, what about spontaneous labor actions or a general strike? These ideas may seem like more constructive paths forward, but they are not! Most members of the American working class have never been on any kind of strike, let alone a disorganized “general” one. Now they are living through a national nightmare and are terrified for their economic future. You can’t convince people to risk their livelihoods and their family’s health by sharing slogans on Twitter. Labor organizing is a difficult process that requires tremendous patience, determination, and professionalism.

So, should you get involved in conventional labor activism? Certainly, if you can find a good opportunity to do so. But you must understand the limitations of this work. With several important exceptions, unions in the United States are controlled by liberals, by bureaucrats who align themselves with the same Democratic Party that heartlessly crushed the Sanders insurgency. These leaders have no real interest in empowering working people or waging militant struggle on their behalf. That is not an excuse to reject the labor movement, but it does call for perspective. Many socialists immerse themselves completely in union work, thinking that independent left politics will only be possible after labor realigns and grows itself a spine.

Don’t fall into that trap. Unions are under the political control, the political influence of Democrats. This means that they need a political alternative, a new civic identity and philosophy of action that can inspire rank and file members. We must establish this alternate pole of attraction. Reforming unions from within as isolated individuals would take decades to accomplish; it would force us to banish all independent political organizing to the distant future. In this time of crisis and upheaval, such a strategy is far too timid, gradualistic, and deferential to existing labor leaders. Where riots and wildcat strikes go too fast, union realignment goes far too slow.

So, should we return to working within the Democratic Party, aiming to realign it from within? We tried that twice in recent memory, and many more times in the past century. Every time, Democrats have crushed and humiliated these projects, and the recent Sanders defeat stings like none before it. Our conflict with the party establishment is not a gentle family disagreement. Much of our constituency is temporarily convinced of this, thanks to Biden’s shallow overtures and Trump’s terrifying brutality. But the illusion will not last.

Our conflict is a bitter struggle for power, and the emotional impulse to hit back against the Democrats is basically correct. If the Democrats take back control of the government, they will impose brutal austerity on America in the middle of an economic depression. They are making this goal increasingly obvious. In such a situation, we cannot afford to be junior coalition partners, gently criticizing and challenging them one-by-one in isolated low-turnout primaries. Millions of working-class people would rightly associate us with the party of Joe Biden, Nancy Pelosi, and Chuck Schumer, severely damaging our credibility.

We must overtly condemn the Democratic record and challenge their right to lord it over our country. We need an independent left political force, preferably a thoroughly socialist one, with a true national constituency. We need our own colors, our own branding and identity. We also need a commitment to a literal, old-fashioned revolution against Democratic neoliberalism, Republican reaction, and the elitist constitutional order that props up both of them. American socialists should draw lessons from the old anti-colonial struggles of the 20th century and learn to project a spirit of dignity, composed militancy, and self-assurance. For too long we have relied on wavering figures like Sanders and AOC as our public figureheads. The time is ripe to make our own debut as an independent force in American national politics. We can rely on ourselves alone.

This brings us to a simple conclusion: we need a party. We’ve needed one for a long time. We must bring it about as soon as possible. 

The obstacles to such a project are well-known and formidable. But that is no excuse for us to evade our historic responsibility. We need to develop a new brand of revolutionary socialism that is tailored to our country’s unique history of struggle and its backward political institutions. We must do it together because no single person has all of the answers for such a monumental task.

That means we must begin by engaging in non-sectarian socialist organizations that are willing to accept open dialogue. The Democratic Socialists of America and the Marxist Center are prepared for this discussion and have quietly awaited it for years. Howie Hawkins and his socialist wing of the Green Party will also have a valuable role to play. Unlike Trotskyist and Stalinist groupings, all of these organizations are committed to political pluralism and capable of critical self-reflection. DSA will have a particularly unique responsibility because of its large membership base and relatively high public profile. Membership should view its 2021 summer convention as a pivotal moment to begin concrete steps towards an independent party. 

In the coming months, independent-minded socialists should be as active as possible in their organizations. There is a great deal of organizing work that needs to be done. As winter arrives in the middle of an economic downturn, tenant organizing will become extraordinarily important. Tenant unionism has the potential to engage millions of Americans in victorious class struggle for the first time in their lives, and may well serve as the backbone of the coming revolutionary movement. At the same time, we should begin to discuss among each other the need for political independence and the immediate steps necessary to bring it about. 

Prepare yourself mentally for the events of November through January and expect the unexpected. When mass demonstrations arrive, you may be driven to take part in them. But choose your battles with extreme caution and do not get swept away into militaristic posturing. At best you will be a reluctant pawn in a liberal PR campaign to win over the security state. The outcome will not be decided by civilian firepower.

Meanwhile, lawful community self-defense may very well be necessary in the coming years. But these efforts will require many months of reflection and formalized training; they cannot be rolled out on the spot. This is particularly true because the Left cannot emulate the right-wing militias that brutalize us. The Trumper militias are little more than undisciplined mobs; their only purpose is to dish out terrorism on behalf of the police. Our goal is to save lives, not to randomly shoot them down, to cultivate revolutionary discipline, not unleash our sectarian rage against soft targets.

Revolutionary discipline is many things. For some of us, it means holding back on truly violent impulses that put others in physical danger. For most of us, it means more mundane things, like avoiding needless infighting and looking out for the vulnerable comrades who are close to us. Above all else, it means maintaining a commitment to the movement, and remembering that politics comes before the gun (and even the megaphone).

A single spark can light a prairie fire, but it is much more likely to burn your house down. Remember that no matter what happens, when the dust settles the United States will have a right-wing president in January. The interesting things, the real action you want to stay alive for, will come afterwards.

Because although we do not face an imminent revolution, it is quite possible that the United States has entered a decades-long revolutionary era. Whether we win will depend in part on the decisions each of us makes, on our ability to restrain our worst impulses and do boring things for the cause.

Remember our history and the warning Fred Hampton gave us–we must not repeat the errors of the past. Buckle down for a long-term revolutionary political struggle. Our time will come.

Until then,

HOLD YOUR FIRE!

From Trade-Union Consciousness to Socialist Consciousness with Chris Townsend

Three of our writers are joined by veteran union organizer Chris Townsend for a podcast discussion on labor organizing across history and in the present day. Chris, Remi, Peter, and Annie will explore how to do what Lenin emphasized had to be done: how do we inject the political ‘good news’ of socialism into the workers’ economistic struggle? They recapitulate how the Russian Social-Democratic Labor Party situated itself in the labor organizing of the early 1900s, how the ‘third period’ of the Comintern laid the basis of the formation of the CIO in the US, and attempt to extrapolate what can we learn from those tactics to apply in the present day.

As always, please subscribe to our Patreon for early access to podcasts and other rewards.

The Problem of Unity: A Comparative Analysis

In a comparative study of Austro-Marxism, the French Socialist movement, and Bolshevism, Medway Baker argues for the left to seek unity around a programme of constitutional disloyalty.

“May Day demonstration in Putilov” by Boris Kustodiev (1906)

What does party-building look like? This has been a topic of great contention in the past months and years, especially as conflicts within and about the Democratic Socialists of America (DSA) come to the fore, and as a “base-building” tendency has begun to develop on the left, most notably around the Marxist Center organization (MC). That this question is once again on the left’s radar is a sign of organizational and intellectual resurgence in our ranks, and this must be celebrated. But in the process of these debates, misconceptions have been propagating, in large part because of the linguistic baggage inherited from various traditions: “dual power”, “base-building”, “cadre formation”, “mass work”, and much more. 

These terminological debates, although sometimes useful, often obscure the core issues at hand. In an article published by Regeneration (MC’s publication), Comrade JC counterposes “mass work” to “base-building”, proposes the “creation of autonomous mass organizations capable of collective action to further class power”, and claims that programmatic unity “amounts to a return to… blind-alley sectarianism”. JC, mischaracterizing the concept of programmatic unity, asserts that “for a socialist intelligentsia largely cut off from the wider working class and lacking meaningful structures of counter-power, programmatic unity puts the cart before the horse.” JC’s solution is “cadre formation through mass work”—a nice-sounding phrase, but hardly a new idea. This is simply base-building elevated to a strategy, retheorized with a more Marxist-sounding phraseology.1

As I have argued previously, we must be clear about revolutionary strategy if we are to build a communist party.2 This means that a party in formation, even before attaining a mass base, must be built on the basis of a programme. “Cadre formation through mass work” is itself the process of party-building, and unity within and between cadres can only be forged on the basis of a shared programme. A party without a programme is no party at all, and a cadre without a party can never hope to win the proletariat’s confidence and take power. 

So the question remains unanswered: What does party-building look like? What does “unity” mean, and how can we transcend the theoretical unity model of the microsects? We will explore these questions by comparing the “fanaticism for unity”3 exemplified by the Austrian Social-Democrats, the debates within French Socialism surrounding prospects for unification with the Communists, and the Bolsheviks’ conduct towards other socialist parties during the October Revolution. We will find that programmatic unity can and must be found through comradely debate and shared struggles, and that unity must be constructed on a shared basis of disloyalty toward the bourgeois constitutional order and democratic centralism: freedom of debate combined with unity in action. 

According to Otto Bauer, a leading member of Austrian Social-Democracy’s left-wing, Austro-Marxism “is the product of unity… [and] an intellectual force which maintains unity…. [It] is nothing but the ideology of unity of the workers’ movement!”4 Drawing on the course of the Second International’s split, he explains: 

“Where the working class is divided, one workers’ party embodies sober, day-to-day Realpolitik, while the other embodies the revolutionary will to attain the ultimate goal. Only where a split is avoided are sober Realpolitik and revolutionary enthusiasm united in one spirit…. The synthesis of the realistic sense of the workers’ movement with the idealistic ardour for socialism… protects us from division…. It is more than a matter of tactics that we always formulate policies which bring together all sections of the working class; that we can only get unity, the highest good, by combining sober realism with revolutionary enthusiasm. This is not a tactical question, it is the principle of class struggle…”5

Bauer clearly bends the stick too far towards unity at any cost. Unity with the sorts of reformist social-traitors who urged workers to war and drowned popular revolts in blood (such as the Ebert government in revolutionary Germany) is neither desirable nor possible. But this must be understood in the context of Austrian Social-Democracy, which—while it failed to offer any opposition to the imperialist war of 1914-18, and should be critiqued for this—was not nearly as bankrupt as German Social-Democracy. The Party initially did support the war effort on defencist grounds—defense of the Austrian proletariat from Russian autocracy—but upon coming to power in the aftermath of the war, the Social-Democrats did not turn the repressive apparatus of the state against the proletariat, but rather sought to neutralize the state’s repressive capacity.6 Bauer analyzed the early Austrian Republic as a state “in which neither the bourgeoisie nor the proletariat could [rule], both had to divide the power between them.”7 Further, the Austrian Republic’s Social-Democratic government was one of the few to recognize and trade with the short-lived Hungarian Soviet Republic of 1919.8 We should critique the Austrian Social-Democrats for their timidity and avoidance of using force when given the opportunity (Bauer himself would later do just this)9, but we cannot say that they took an openly counterrevolutionary position when revolution came to Austria and actively sided with the bourgeoisie against the proletariat. 

Photo of Otto Bauer

Bauer himself made just such an argument in late 1917 when the left-wing of the Party (to which he then belonged) was agitating for a split. He impressed upon his cothinkers that “such a division would be justified only if the majority of the party were in a position to make compromises with the bourgeois elements of the state. Given such a condition, an independent socialist body might exist to prevent reformism.”10 Bauer argued that such conditions were present in Germany—thus justifying the split of the Independent Social-Democrats (USPD)—but not present in Austria. This raises the question of what actions constitute such collaboration with the bourgeoisie, and why support for the imperialist war does not fulfil this condition; perhaps Bauer was more narrowly concerned with ministerialism and direct attacks on the proletariat, or perhaps it can be explained simply by the fact that he himself failed to oppose the war at the decisive moment and did not want to indict himself.11 However, the extent to which this stance constituted cynical opportunism can and has been argued elsewhere, and is not relevant for our purposes. 

Friedrich Adler, who—unlike Bauer—opposed the war from the very beginning, nevertheless took a parallel stance. He wrote, only several months before his assassination of the Austrian Minister-President: 

“All party activity consists in common action toward the realization of the party program. Every individual act rests on the majority decision of a solidary community. Two dangers threaten the party, one from the side of the majority and one from the side of the minority. The majority is always in danger that its decision does not correspond to the party program, that it contradicts the basic principles of the whole movement which it represents, the principles that give the party meaning. The minority is in danger of destroying the community of action, of not complementing the majority, of going its own way and thereby disturbs the majority decision.”12

In essence, Friedrich Adler believed that even when the majority violated the party’s programmatic unity, it was the duty of the minority to correct the movement’s faulty course by way of both inner-party struggle and independent agitation among the working class13; to be, in essence, an opposition within the party that fought against the sins of the majority while remaining loyal to the party itself. This is a shakier justification than Bauer’s, as Adler fails to define a circumstance under which a split might be acceptable. It is, however, consistent with Adler’s personal relationship to the Party, and should be understood in that context.14 It should also be noted that Adler was a political thinker of less depth and breadth than Bauer, and was not as enmeshed in the practicalities of Party and state politics during this period as Bauer and other Austro-Marxists were. 

In summation, these leftist Austrian Social-Democrats believed that unity of the workers’ movement was essential, even if it meant remaining in a party that violated its own revolutionary (or at least anti-reformist) programme. They are unable to define which conditions would justify a split, outside of vague platitudes. Bauer provides a well-reasoned argument as to why this unity is so important, but he has no answer to the challenge of overcoming reformism. We will see later his failed attempts to rectify this problem following the triumph of fascist counter-revolution in Austria. 

If Austro-Marxism was the “ideology of unity” in practice, then French Socialism saw unity as an essential aspiration which was to be actively pursued. Similarly to Austrian and German Social-Democracy, the French Socialist movement coalesced into a single party throughout the end of the 19th and the dawn of the 20th century, emerging in the form of the French Section of the Workers’ International (SFIO) in 1905. It would be sundered in two only 15 years later, with the foundation of the French Communist Party (PCF). More than the Austrian Social-Democrats, the French left-Socialists not only strove to maintain unity within the Party, but also actively sought unity in action and even reunification with the Communist Party. Before moving on to a discussion of reunification efforts between the two workers’ parties, however, it is useful to discuss what unity meant to the SFIO in the first place: on what basis did the French Socialist movement first unify, and what were the outcomes? 

There were several currents which merged into the Party in 1905, but the two most prominent were Guesdism15(named for the political leader Jules Guesde, who was credited with introducing Marxism to France) and Jauressianism (named for the leader Jean Jaurès, a reformist who supported alliances with the bourgeoisie16). The dynamics of these currents and others are not interesting for our purposes, but the manner in which they unified is. 

Jaurès speaks to a crowd

 The Guesdists had the majority at the unification congress, but according to Claude Willard, the foremost historian of Guesdism, it was a “deceptive victory”.17 The programme around which the Party united rejected reformism (although not reforms) and declared its irreconcilable opposition to the bourgeoisie and its state, and proclaimed a “party of class struggle and revolution.” But this was a false programmatic unity: the party apparatus was too decentralised to enforce party discipline, and in practice the programme was violated both by local party organisations and by Socialist parliamentarians. In addition, the “tendencies” inside the Party were essentially “parties within the Party”; Willard notes that “the SFIO, more than a merger, [was] the affixation of assorted ideological and political currents.”18

The existence of factions within a party is, of course, a sign of healthy discourse, which is necessary for a workers’ party to adapt to changing circumstances and remain in constant contact with the workers’ movement in all its diversity. However, for a workers’ party to present a consistent opposition to bourgeois rule and ultimately take power, it must be united in action. That is to say, all sections of the workers’ party, from local cadres to parliamentarians, must conduct their activity on the basis of the party programme, which lays out the path to workers’ rule and communism. When party activists and parliamentarians flout the programme, both democracy and centralism within the party break down, and unity in any meaningful sense is impossible. 

Nevertheless, even this half-unity “constitute[d] a pole of attraction for those who had been repelled by the internecine wars between socialists”: by 1914, the Party’s membership had nearly tripled.19 However, much of this new membership, for one reason or another, was not committed to proletarian revolution, facilitating the Party’s reformist turn.20 When the imperialist war arrived, the Party was torn: many believed it was the duty of all classes to defend the Republic from Prussian militarism; a minority pled for peace, and a few declared the death of the International. The Russian Revolution in 1917 and the formation of the Communist International in 1919 intensified the tensions in the SFIO, and so, in 1920, the majority of delegates at the Tours Congress voted for affiliation to the Comintern and left the SFIO behind. 

This was the beginning of a new era for the French workers’ movement. Not only did the entry of the Communist Party into the political arena have massive implications for France at large, but the inner dynamics of the Socialist Party itself underwent a shift. New personalities emerged into the heights of Socialist politics. Factions which had emerged in response to the war and the Russian Revolution morphed and new factions arose.  

This split must not be understood as a simple split between reformists and revolutionaries. It is perhaps more accurate to understand the Tours Congress as a split within the left-wing camp.21 So what were the dynamics of this split, and of the Socialist Party left behind? 

As the war dragged on and workers revolted in France and across the world, the pro-war majority began to adopt the pacifist rhetoric of the minority, although failing to take an active stance against the war.22 The advent of the Comintern, within this context, divided the Party into three general currents: the right-wing “Resisters”, who supported a continuation of the Second International and rejected the application of Bolshevik methods to Western Europe; the centrist “Reconstructors”, who also rejected the application of Bolshevism to France but defended the October Revolution, and wished to “reconstruct” a united International “with the still-useable materials of the Second and the new framework of the Third”; and the left-wing, which supported joining the Comintern without reservations (or, at least, any stated reservations).23 

Léon Blum, for the Resisters, defended the SFIO’s unity on the basis of the socialist pluralism which had characterized French Socialism from 1905. He argued that the Comintern, after the Second Congress which had laid out the famous “21 Conditions” to which all member parties had to submit, was ideologically rigid and wouldn’t allow for internal factions and debate. In his famous speech to the Congress, in which he pleaded for broad proletarian unity, he proclaimed: 

“Unity in the Party… has, up to today, been a synthetic unity, a harmonic unity; it was a result of all [of the Party’s] forces, and all the tendencies acted together to determine the common axis for action. It is no longer unity in this sense that you seek, it is absolute uniformity and homogeneity. You only want men in your party who are disposed, not only to act together, but to commit to thinking together: your doctrine is fixed, once and for all! Ne variatur! He who does not accept will not enter into your party; he who accepts no longer must leave.”24 

Considering what Bolshevisation would entail for the PCF, Blum’s concerns may not be entirely without basis.25 The Comintern and PCF ultimately did clamp down on internal debate, driving many Communists out into a myriad of sects or back into the arms of the Socialist Party. What Blum fails to acknowledge, however, is that the SFIO’s pluralism was of a type that was unable to enforce unity in action. In practice, due to the Party’s decentralized nature, one militant might agitate for total hostility to the bourgeois state and the seizure of power by the workers, at the same time that a Socialist parliamentarian participated in a bourgeois coalition. Blum nevertheless insisted that the Party had enough bottom-up disciplinary mechanisms to guard against abuses by the leadership.26 At the same time, he defended this loose unity, on the basis that the duty of the Party was to assemble “the working class in its totality” in one party—no matter the cost: 

“Begin by bringing together [the proletariat], this is your work, there is no other limit on a socialist party, in scope and in number, than the number of labourers and waged workers. Our Party has thus been a party of the broadest recruitment possible. As such, it has been a party of freedom of thought, as these two ideas are linked and one derives necessarily from the other. If you wish to group, in one party, all the labourers, all the waged workers, all the exploited people, you cannot bring them together except by simple and general formulas…. Within this [socialist] credo, this essential affirmation [of replacing capitalism with socialism], all varieties, all nuances of opinion are tolerated.”27

This view, much as Bauer’s and Adler’s, clearly bends the stick too far towards unity at any cost. It allows for the violation of the party programme by activists and parliamentarians in the name of pluralism, and attempts to reconcile revolutionaries and avowed class-collaborationists in a single party. It is clearly impossible to proceed towards the socialist aim when such fundamental strategic differences remain unresolved. However, Blum raises an important issue: How should socialists maintain an internally democratic spirit, without on the other hand allowing for the encroachment of reformism and opportunism? 

This worry would later be echoed by Marceau Pivert, even as he called for unity between the Socialist and Communist Parties. Pivert was a leader of the SFIO’s “new left”, which arose in the years following the Tours Congress, as Blum reconciled with the Reconstructors and the space of a “left opposition” was left open.28 The new left was firmly opposed to compromise with the bourgeois state or the middle classes, and sought reunification with the Communists.29 It was also fundamentally committed to the principle of democracy. Pivert specified that, while he saw the formation of a “parti unique” (united party) as one of the highest priorities for the workers’ movement, the condition of such a merger was internal democracy, which “means that the sections designate their secretaries, that the federations choose their officials and their delegates, that only the national congresses will be sovereign.” Most importantly, internal democracy for Pivert meant “that all the nuances of opinion, socialist and communist, will be associated to the collective work, in conformity with majority rule; for this, currents of opinion (‘tendencies’) will have a legal existence, will participate in free investigation, in free internal critique, to the distribution of their theses among militants, and their representation will be assured at all levels of the organization, proportionally to their forces, and evaluated in the assemblies by regular polling.” 

This conception of unity is still tinged by French Socialism’s traditional haphazard “affixation” of factions noted by Willard. Pivert defends this, however, on the basis that the Party majority may itself betray revolutionary politics, and in such a situation it would be necessary for the minority to act on what it believes to be right. “There are cases,” he says, “where formal discipline is not possible: when the Party refuses to rectify certain problems.”30 For example, he claims that Party members should be able to engage in direct actions against fascism or join mass organizations, against the instructions of the leadership. The question is, then: what kind of unity can there be in a party where even unity in action cannot be guaranteed? 

In fact, Pivert was very concerned with unity of action; but he believed that it was the spontaneous direct action of the proletarian masses which would forge unity within the workers’ movement, rather than any precepts from above. I have dealt with the issue of spontaneism elsewhere; suffice to say, history has proven this “strategy” (or more properly, non-strategy) to be a dead end. It is true, however, that a united party of the working class cannot be forged simply through conferences of party or sect bureaucrats. Pivert believed that the starting point for unity should be open meetings between local Socialist and Communist party organizations, at which the membership could find common ground and coordinate further united action.31 A key aspect of this strategy was the formation of antifascist paramilitaries consisting of revolutionary workers.32 

Poster from the French Popular Front election

Indeed, spontaneous mass action by workers exploded across France with the election of Blum’s Popular Front government in 1936, celebrating the working class’s newfound unity (of a type).33 However, these mass actions failed to achieve “organic unity”, that is, the formation of the parti unique through the merger of the two workers’ parties. In fact, the Socialist Party bureaucracy worried that “the party was being by-passed by events”, and worked to distinguish the Socialist Party in popular imagination from the greater Popular Front movement, while combatting Communist influence in the workers’ movement. 34

Pivert fought against this tendency in the SFIO leadership and demanded that the Party encourage the creation of a cross-party antifascist paramilitary and allow members to join “popular committees”. In this way, the working class would transcend the limitations of not only each of the workers’ parties, but also of the Popular Front itself, and thus overcome their political leaderships to form a new, bottom-up proletarian unity.35 The fact that the Socialist and Communist leaders were opposed to the masses’ revolutionary impulse was irrelevant, he claimed, because “what counts is not really the supposed intention of a particular leader, but the manner in which the proletarian masses interpret their own destiny.”36The movement would be reborn with a new vitality, all types of socialist views would be tolerated, and mass action would inevitably lead the proletariat to seize power. Presumably, reformist illusions would be discarded by the masses under the pressure of events, and so undemocratic purges and discipline would not be necessary to secure the revolutionary orientation of the party. 

Jean Zyromski was another leader of the new left in the French Socialist Party who was a longtime ally of Pivert’s although they diverging with the advent of the Popular Front. Zyromski admitted to being influenced by both Lenin and Bauer, among other diverse thinkers37, and was even more committed to the formation of the parti unique than Pivert. He only gave up on the endeavor in November 1937, when Georgi Dimitrov, then-head of the Comintern, demanded that the interests of the Soviet state be treated as paramount. Zyromski treated the USSR as a proletarian beachhead in the class war, which was to be defended from capitalism and fascism so that it could continue to exert pressure on the international bourgeoisie but rejected “idolatry” of the Soviet Union or the Comintern.38 

Zyromski’s conception of proletarian unity was more sophisticated than Pivert’s and relied less on the spontaneity of the masses. He hoped that the synthesis of Socialism and Communism would allow the workers’ movement to transcend the limitations of each. He called for “real Unity, solid Unity, that which results from a merger of the existing Workers’ Parties, based in a Marxist synthesis of the general conceptions of the two movements of the working class…. To achieve this result,” he elaborated, “it is evidently necessary to find the points [where our programmes] intersect.”39 Against those who called for a “return to la vieille maison” (the old house—a common term for the Socialist Party, whereas the Communists belonged to the “new” house), Zyromski contested that “the destruction or liquidation of any given branch of the workers’ movement does not seem, to us, to be the path to unity. Once again, we must bring about a merger of the forces of the organized working class. This task, this merger, will be possible if the points of divergence, upon which the split was justifiably made, are reconciled in view of the facts.”40 

Without denying the validity of the split at Tours, Zyromski argued that with the rise of fascism, and the USSR’s resultant shift in foreign policy, the Socialist and Communist parties had lost any real grounds for maintaining the split: both recognized the need for prioritizing antifascism, and both advocated the revolutionary dictatorship of the proletariat. Strategically, both parties favored the combination of legal and illegal means in the class struggle. The Popular Front was the ultimate result of this shared orientation, and although he insisted that it had no revolutionary possibilities, Zyromski believed that it could serve to combat the forces of fascism, and that a Soviet-allied France could allow the proletariat to improve its position, not through insurrectionary means, but rather through supporting a Soviet war effort against German fascism, and through combatting fascism on other fronts as well. Through pursuing these shared aims, the Popular Front might encourage the two parties to merge, as their common programmatic points and actions would trump whatever other differences remained.41 

It was therefore neither “bottom-up” nor “top-down” unity that Zyromski sought, but rather organic unity brought about by unity in action, which was precipitated in turn by programmatic unity. We can thus see that programme and action are inextricable from one another, and unity on the basis of shared programmatic points is not synonymous with unity on the basis of a shared ideology.42 Rather, it constitutes unity on the basis of a shared strategy for the conquest of power, a strategy that necessarily informs present-day tactics. Programme is the immediate basis for both splits and unifications in the workers’ movement. However, Zyromski fails to propose any practical mechanism for maintaining this programmatic unity. 

So we return to Otto Bauer. By this time, he had developed an idea he called “integral socialism”: a synthesis between Socialism and Communism, which would unite the positive characteristics of each while discarding their negative characteristics. 

“On the one hand, we have the great mass workers’ movements: the English Labour Party, the social-democratic parties and unions of the Scandinavian countries, of Belgium, of the Netherlands, with their success, the unions of the United States, the workers’ parties of Australia—all these great mass movements are democratic and reformist. On the other hand, we have the conscious struggle for a socialist society which is realised in the USSR, the influence of which dominates the revolutionary socialist cadres of the fascist countries, makes itself felt in the mass socialist movements in France and Spain, and also in the revolutionary movement of the Far East. The link between the reformist class movement and conscious socialism, this is the problem which we must grapple with in order to devise an integral socialism. 

Marx and Engels surmounted the opposition that existed between the workers’ movement and socialism in the age of bourgeois revolution. They taught the workers’ movement that its aim must be the socialist society. They taught the socialists that the socialist society could be nothing other than the result of the struggles of the working class. But the opposition between the workers’ movement and socialism could not be definitively surmounted. The unification of the movement of the working class and the struggle for a socialist society, the work of Marxism, must be redone in each phase of the development of class struggle…. Surmounting this tension which reappears ceaselessly, uniting the workers’ movement and socialism; this is the historic task of Marxism.”43

What Bauer is describing has elsewhere been termed the “merger formula”. This was no groundbreaking idea in the socialist circles which Bauer frequented. However, what he stresses is that this merger must take place on an ongoing basis, as the objective tendency of the workers’ movement is to obtain the best deal for the working class within capitalism; that is, the tendency is towards reformism, especially under bourgeois-democratic regimes. 

Understanding this fact, for Bauer, is the first step towards reuniting the workers’ movement, a necessary precondition (in his view) for the defeat of fascism. He claims that the polar opposition between reform and revolution, manifested with the formation of the Comintern, was a mistake; in fact, the struggle for reforms (which is inevitable in the workers’ movement) is what will inevitably raise the class struggle to the point where only two outcomes are possible: fascist dictatorship or proletarian dictatorship. The duty of revolutionaries in the meantime, he counsels, is to support the workers’ struggles, propagate the tenets of revolutionary socialism, and organize revolutionary cadres within the workers’ movement to accomplish these goals. In addition, Marxism “must transmit to revolutionary socialism the great heritage of the struggles for democracy, the heritage of democratic socialism… [and] transmit to reformist socialism the great heritage of the proletarian revolutions…”.44

That is to say, the struggle for democracy and the struggle for the proletarian dictatorship must be united in a single party-movement in a single programme. The great split in the workers’ movement had separated these struggles into two internationals, and it was the task of true revolutionaries to reunite them. However, Bauer—much like Pivert—relies too much on the spontaneous will of the masses, which he claims will naturally progress towards revolution under the pressure of events and the influence of the revolutionaries. 

Therefore neither Bauer nor Zyromski can say how it is that the workers’ party can avoid domination by reformist politics, or rebellion of reformist elements against a revolutionary programme. Zyromski comes the closest, in his advocacy of unification around shared programmatic points, while allowing for multiple factions with different theoretical bases to coexist in the same party. But he refuses to draw a definitive line which party members would not be permitted to cross. It is clear that there must be both a minimum political condition for membership in the workers’ party, and a structure which is able to ensure the application of the party’s revolutionary programme in action. 

Ideological conditions—requiring that members agree with a set of theoretical tenets, such as socialism in one country, permanent revolution, protracted people’s war, or what have you—are obviously not the answer. These only serve to perpetuate the preponderance of leftist sects, which have proven themselves incapable of transforming into a mass workers’ party. 

Perhaps the answer lies neither in a broad party, nor in the “party of a new type” advocated by the Comintern and inherited by the sects, but in another part of Bolshevik history: the October Revolution itself. 

Contrary to popular belief, the October Revolution was not an insurrection by one party against all the rest; rather, it was a battle between the soviets and the Provisional Government for absolute authority (vlast, normally translated as “power”), in which the soviets won—thanks to the efforts of not only the Bolsheviks, but also the Left Socialist-Revolutionaries. Even those socialists who opposed the transfer of “all power to the soviets” often continued to work within the soviet state institutions, playing an active part in legislative work and frequently debating government policy in the All-Russian Central Executive Committee, or VTsIK. The government itself—the Council of People’s Commissars, or Sovnarkom—was, from December to March, a multi-party coalition, consisting of both Bolsheviks and Left SRs. But why did the Bolsheviks include the Left SRs and not the other socialist parties? What distinguished these socialists from the rest? 

Banners: “Power to the Workers’, Soldiers’, and Peasants’ Soviets”; “Down with the Minister Capitalists”.

Lars Lih explains this in terms of “agreementism” versus “anti-agreementism”; the “agreementists” (that is, the “moderate socialists”) favored an alliance between “revolutionary democracy” (that is, the workers and peasants) and the bourgeoisie, whereas the “anti-agreementists” believed that the programme of the democratic revolution could be carried out only by revolutionary democracy, untethered from the burden of the bourgeoisie.45 This was very clearly explained before the revolution by Stalin: 

“The Party declares that the only possible way of securing these [democratic] demands is to break with the capitalists, completely liquidate the bourgeois counter-revolution, and transfer power in the country to the revolutionary workers, peasants, and soldiers.”46

The fundamental message here is that in order to complete the revolution, the workers and peasants had to overthrow the Provisional Government and the constitutional order it had constructed and then replace it with their own organs of governance. The moderate socialists had betrayed the revolution, even as they claimed to defend it, because they refused to break with the bourgeois parties and declare a soviet government. The priority was not a Bolshevik government, but a soviet one, which would refuse all compromise with the bourgeoisie. 

The Left SRs formulated this idea as the “dictatorship of the democracy”47, a more succinct appellation for the old Bolshevik formula of the “revolutionary-democratic dictatorship of the proletariat and the peasantry”. The workers and peasants alone—revolutionary democracy—would exercise power, against the aristocracy and the bourgeoisie. The Left SRs actively sought to bring all socialist parties into the coalition on the basis of soviet power, and the Bolsheviks were not necessarily opposed to this goal, either (although they were not overly concerned with courting the moderate socialist parties). The debates in the VTsIK are illustrative of this: 

“Kamkov, for the Left SRs: From the start the Left SRs have taken the view that the best way out of our predicament would be to form a homogenous revolutionary democratic government…. We hold to our view that the soviets are the pivot around which revolutionary democracy can unite…. If no agreement [with the moderate socialists] is reached, or if the government consists exclusively of internationalists, it will be unable to surmount the enormous difficulties facing the revolution. 

“Volodarsky, for the Bolsheviks: There is scarcely anyone present here who does not want an agreement. But we cannot conclude one at any price. We cannot forget that we are obliged to defend the interests of the working class, the army, and the peasantry…. I move the following resolution: 

“Considering an agreement among the socialist parties desirable, the [VTsIK] declares that such an agreement can be achieved only on the following terms: 

“… 3. Recognition of the Second All-Russian Congress [of Soviets] as the sole source of authority.”48

The points of contention between the Left SR and Bolshevik positions are relatively minor; their unifying point is the primacy of the soviets, as anti-agreementist organs, which represent the workers and peasants while excluding the bourgeoisie. Their unifying point is a common revolutionary strategy of overthrowing bourgeois constitutionalism in favor of a new constitutional order, one resting on the authority of the armed masses. 

Their unifying point is, in short, constitutional disloyalty. The moderate socialists’ insistence on compromise with the bourgeoisie represents a commitment, on the other hand, to playing by the rules of the bourgeois constitutional order. It is not sufficient to declare oneself a partisan of the revolution (as did many of the moderate socialists); what is necessary, for the most basic kind of unity, is a refusal to abide by the constitution. 

This essential point is what drove all the coalition talks. One Left SR even proclaimed that “the government should base [its policy] on the Second Congress of Soviets. All parties that do not agree to this we consider as belonging to the counter-revolutionary camp.”49 Any party which advocated collaboration with the bourgeois parties, regardless of its stated commitment to socialism and revolution, was a liability. Lenin hinted at this in 1915, in a more raw form: 

“The proletariat’s unity is its greatest weapon in the struggle for the socialist revolution. From this indisputable truth it follows just as indisputably that, when a proletarian party is joined by a considerable number of petty-bourgeois elements capable of hampering the struggle for the socialist revolution, unity with such elements is harmful and perilous to the cause of the proletariat.”50

So we must return to the issue of party unity. Although the Bolsheviks were not looking to unify with the Left SRs, the fundamental principle which drove the coalition talks remains relevant. Programmatic unity, for communists, does not mean a shared commitment to certain theoretical tenets, but rather a shared commitment to constitutional disloyalty. Only on this basis can a common programme be constructed. 

The other condition, then, is structural: multiple factions (each committed to constitutional disloyalty) must be able to coexist in the same party while remaining united in action. This requires both democracy (so that each faction can be represented in proportion to its support among the membership, and each will accept the legitimacy of the central party organs’ decisions), and centralism (so that the central party organs’ decisions will be binding in fact on the actions pursued by local party organizations and by the party’s representatives in parliament). Without democracy, the party will inevitably fracture, as factions chafe under a leadership they may view as illegitimate; without centralism, the party will inevitably crumble, as unity in action breaks down. This does not mean the type of “democratic centralism” (perhaps more properly termed bureaucratic centralism) imposed by the Comintern’s “party of a new type”, which developed under the pressures of civil war and general societal breakdown in Russia. This type of centralism was hardly democratic at all, and while it may be defensible in the circumstances that the Bolshevik party found itself in, it can hardly serve as the basis for a mass workers’ party which has yet to take power—never mind a pre-party formation, which has yet to win a mass base for itself. 

Programmatic unity is not an appeal for unity around theoretical tenets, nor is it an appeal for a broad left party. Both of these extremes have proven to be dead ends and it is time that we leave them behind. Communist programmatic unity means unity around a shared strategy for taking power and initiating the socialist transition, which means a shared commitment to constitutional disloyalty and pursuing multiple tactics simultaneously, all directed towards the common aim. This requires both intellectual and political pluralism and democratic centralism, which means allowing multiple factions to coexist within a single party, but acting only on the democratic decisions of the majority. In a healthy mass workers’ party, it is improbable that any one faction could hold a majority on its own, and all factions would presumably be represented in permanent party organs in proportion to their support among the membership. 

In today’s context, where no such parties exist, the existing left should seek common programmatic points with each other, and unite their efforts on that basis. Adherence to a theoretical framework or opinions on the class character of various countries are not programmatic points, although they may inform certain tactics or slogans. These things, however, are things that can and should be debated, and actionable slogans should be decided through democratic deliberation, without fracturing the movement. 

The starting point is not bureaucratic wrangling between sect leaderships or spontaneous mass revolts that will bypass the existing left, but rather unity in action among the left and comradely debate between communists. This is what the Communist International termed the “united front”. This does not mean glossing over theoretical, strategic, or tactical differences but rather, 

“Communists should accept the discipline required for action, they must not under any conditions relinquish the right and the capacity to express… their opinion regarding the policies of all working class organisations without exception. This capacity must not be surrendered under any circumstances. While supporting the slogan of the greatest possible unity of all workers’ organisations in every practical action against the united capitalists, the Communists must not abstain from putting forward their views…”51

Through such united fronts for action—through common fights for shared aims—similar currents will be drawn together, and the memberships of various socialist and workers’ organizations will begin to move towards organizational unity. They will come to understand which issues are really important in the concrete, ongoing struggle against the capitalist onslaught, and which issues can be put to the side in day-to-day organizing. They will begin to develop a common programme, not only through theoretical debates (although these certainly hold an important place in party formation), but through mass, democratic deliberation and the practical work of organizing the working class side by side. 

In short, common action around common demands will inevitably lead to a common programme. This consolidation is necessary if we wish to form a mass workers’ party. This does not mean that everyone we work with in day-to-day struggles must be a constitutional disloyalist, or that all constitutional disloyalists will choose to work alongside us; but with a true communist consolidation, both the right-opportunists and the ultraleft sectarians will be swept aside, into the dustbin of history. So let’s seek our common programme, a programme of constitutional disloyalty. The revolutionary party of proletarian unity will march forth, and its programme will bring the proletariat to power and towards communism.