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  • Beyond the ER

    The February 6 issue of The New York Review of Books carried Dr. Arnold Relman’s account of his own hospitalization at Massachusetts General Hospital (and elsewhere) under the title “On Breaking One’s Neck.” In a subsequent article, I said that the appearance of Dr. Arnold Relman as a patient at Massachusetts General Hospital, accompanied by his wife, Dr. Marcia Angell, was like the appearance of a royal couple: two former editors of the major journal, New England Journal of Medicine, physicians of the highest reputation and visibility, and senior mentor of many of the doctors on staff. (I have long admired Relman and Angell’s critical writings about the medical profession, and have read NEJM for many years in order to say in touch with medicine and the state of the profession.) After the ER, Relman moved to the Mass General Intensive Care Unit. There, the ninety-year old Relman died three times, only to be brought back to life by the vigorous efforts of the doctors. I noted that he had around him as supportive personal visitors during and after official visiting hours large numbers of doctors and lawyers, many of them relatives of Relman and/or Angell. It seemed clear to me that this distinguished liberal couple had put together (Angell used her editorial skills) a magnificent account of a benign and successful hospitalization, but an account which did not even come close to considering the haloing effect of professional courtesy for an eminent figure reduced to patienthood. I felt that this failure reflected a blind spot in the profession’s understanding of unequal access to medical care and that the lack of awareness of his own life-saving privilege tainted Relman’s larger analysis of the US medical system.

    I sent my critique as a letter to the editor of The New York Review of Books, and heard nothing further. I published it on the New Politics Blog (January 22) as “How a Famous Ninety-Year Old Doctor Survived Hospitalization, But You Probably Won’t,” and then on Truthout (February 2). Now, some three months later, the May 8, 2014 New York Review carries a respectful letter from Dr. Manuel Martinez-Maldonado, who offers courteous praise for Relman’s article. But then, Martinez-Maldonado notes: Relman “provides a list of factors that he feels allowed him to remain alive, He forgets a very important one… One does not rapidly forget the editor of The New England Journal of Medicine. I’m sure that helped a lot with his care. I wonder … what would have been the experience of John Doe.” Having allowed himself this remark, Dr. Martinez-Maldonado then returns to his attitude of deference.

    Relman then responds to Martinez-Maldonado, stating that his individual identity made no difference in the Emergency Room. But, he now acknowledges, the ICU was a different matter. The staff “allowed members of my family (particularly the physicians in my family) to stay at my bedside after visiting hours. I don’t think this would have been the case if I had been ‘John Doe,’ and I am quite convinced that this special treatment furthered my recovery.

    We have to be grateful for small things. But Relman’s belated and very partial concession avoids confrontation with the role of privilege in access to life-saving medical care. Privilege is often invisible to those who have it. In fact a profession that claims to be above such things is riddled with systemic tribalisms which decide, often on a social basis, who lives and who dies. We sorely lack a critique of this from within the profession, and from patients, who must rise above the feudal deference built into the practice of medicine.

    When doctors hear about, or experience, the horrors of contemporary medical care, they tend to miss the systemic quality and explain it with the medical equivalent of, “there’s a bad apple in every barrel”—an argument whose absurdity they may see when applied to police beatings of black youth, but whose absurdity they miss when applying it to medical care. In the implied argument  of Relman’s earlier article—he received good care at Mass General because it is a “top-notch place”—he missed an important systemic consideration related to the place of hierarchy in the culture of the medical profession.  The time is long past when we must realize that problems in medical care are not a case of individual bad apples, but are, rather, systemic and must be so described and opposed.

    Stories like Relman’s update the Great American Success Story, a story which always oppresses those of us who do not share the success. He made it, came through the system fine, and just like us, had no special access. What about the rest of us, with our memories of horror and failure in our medical encounters? How do we explain our own bad medical experiences? If the system is a benign one, there must be some deficiency  on our part, or at least the bad luck involved in encountering the bad apple. Success stories leave us blaming ourselves, rather than the system,

  • It's Earth Day. Thanks, Toyota!

    Save the earth by buying a Prius? That seems to be the takeaway message from this year’s Earth Day New York taking place on April 22. Earth Day events in the city will be sponsored by – Who would have guessed? – Toyota.

    Perhaps the organizers of Earth Day New York want to find out just how low our expectations could go for what passes as solutions to the imminent ruin of our planet. Perhaps they feel we should be grateful that Earth Day is not being sponsored by an even bigger gas guzzler like Jeep. Let’s take the day, they might tell us, to put aside our worries about the U.S. transportation industry and the fact that it is responsible for a third of the country’s climate changing emissions. And let’s, for the moment, erase from historical record the role of automobile and oil companies in dismantling train and electric cable car systems across the country in the 1930s and 40s—systems that could have led the way to an ecologically sustainable transportation system.

    To be fair, Toyota is not the only sponsor of Earth Day New York. There are other corporations as well. Like that savior of the environment, Con Edison. Yes, that same Con Ed that is so beloved among New Yorkers not only for its high bills, but also its complete disregard for the lives of New Yorkers and the safety of our homes.

    A recent pipe explosion in East Harlem that killed eight people, and injured almost fifty others, exposed an ailing and ancient piping system currently managed by Con Ed. Fifty eight percent of Con Ed’s pipes were installed before 1960, and “sixty percent are composed of unprotected steel or cast iron, the most leak-prone material,” according to a report cited by Daily Kos. The New York Times reported that “Consolidated Edison, whose pipes supplied the two buildings leveled by the explosion, had the highest rate of leaks in the country among natural gas operators whose networks totaled at least 100 miles.” ()

    In fact, the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) found that the the 8-inch Con Edison gas main at the East Harlem site failed a pressure test when tracer gas was pumped into it. That main was installed in 1887. Whatever the outcome of the NTSB investigation, the billions of dollars that it will take to replace old fossil fuel infrastructure will leave us with the same lethal dangers.

    Then there’s Con Ed’s preparedness for increasingly frequent “natural” disasters. As author and activist, Chris Williams pointed out in the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy, Con Ed refused to "spend the $250 million in investment the company deemed necessary to install submersible switches and move high-voltage transformers above ground level, things that may have prevented the explosion that wiped out electricity in lower Manhattan–even though the company made $1 billion in profit last year."  

    The corporatized Earth Day also boasts board members representing New York real estate and marketing companies, corporate lawyers, and companies who help to “greenwash” business events, alongside of a smattering of environmental NGOs. The president of Earth Day New York, Pamela Lippe, is a consultant for “green skyscrapers” like the Conde Naste building, and the new Bank of America Tower at Bryant Park.

    Environmentalists might recall that Bank of America has historically been a major investor in coal and mountaintop removal. Rain Forest Action Network has declared them “the leading investor in dirty, polluting coal.” But their skyscraper sure is green!

    The whole day would be laughable if it weren’t for the fact that it points to a broader crises we must face as a society. Our greatest challenge is to transform the transportation and energy infrastructures that currently have us on a collision course towards the destruction of the planet. Yet we are constantly being asked to swallow the idea that same companies that are making a killing off of the toxic status quo should also be dictating the solution.

    After all, is an Earth Day sponsored by Toyota any stranger than a State Department “environmental impact” report on the Keystone pipeline that is authored by an organization with known financial ties to TransCanada Corp., the company seeking to build the pipeline?

    In the face of the maniacal growth of unconventional and dirty fuel extraction, climate change reaching a “tipping point” of no return, and a Democratic administration that has embraced an “all of the above” energy strategy, we need a real, grassroots movement, independent of corporate funding and corporate “solutions.”

    In response to the corporate Earth Day, a coalition of grassroots organizations is planning a set of actions to reclaim Earth Day. Reclaim Earth Day will be part of a Global Climate Convergence that unites environmental justice with social justice, and calls for a Global Green New Deal. Rather than accept the divide and conquer tactics that pit jobs against environment, we support full employment and 100% clean renewable energy by 2030.

    As Jonathan Neale recently wrote: “We already have the technology. It would take between 100 million and 150 million workers 20 years to do it for the whole world… Some people say we couldn't afford the money. But when the banks needed government help, the money was there. If Mother Earth were a bank, the politicians would already have rescued her.”

    If you want to build this kind of a moment, and you don’t think Toyota should lead the way, join us at Zuccotti Park on April 22 at 5:00. Bring yourselves, your friends, a sign or plant, and your vision for a better a world.

    *Hadas Thier a member of the New York chapter of System Change Not Climate Change.

     

  • NEA feels the heat

     Raveresized           It’s official.  Colorado teachers and parents have launched a state-wide caucus, RAVE, that aims to transform both the AFT and NEA affiliates in their state. To my knowledge theirs is the first caucus that includes teachers in both AFT and NEA as well as parent activists.  They’ve also reached out to student groups who oppose testing. Though the leaders of the group started their political journey with a determination to halt standardized testing, they’ve evolved politically and have developed a program that configures testing as part of a bigger, deadlier, project of privatization and deprofessionalization of teaching. They’re committed to building a new kind of teacher unionism, one that has a strong presence in the schools and supports teachers to stand up for kids.  I met many of the leading activists when I visited Denver for the United Opt-Out (of testing) conference recently. They have wonderful energy and drive and are fast learners too.

                Educators for a Democratic Union and the campaign to elect Barbara Madeloni President of the Mass. Teachers Association (NEA’s state organization in Mass.) started off as an educational campaign but the caucus and Barbara have garnered more attention and support than Barbara and the group of activists who initiated the campaign imagined. As a teacher educator she risked her job to stand up to Pearson's corporate take-over of assessing teacher ed students. Barbara is a passionate supporter of social justice and  transformed teacher unionism, and her election as President of the MTA would jolt the NEA nationally as well as energizing reformers far beyond . her state. The campaign has  produced three short videos, “Teaching or Testing?” , “A Different Vision” and the soon to be officially released “What Kind of Union.”

                The campaign needs money to continue its work. I contributed and hope you do too. You can send checks (in any amount)  to The Committee to Elect Barbara Madeloni, 43 Munroe Street, Northampton MA 01060.  (Or, if you prefer, send checks to Educators for a Democratic Union, same addresss.)

               

    Readers can contact me at drweinerlo@gmail.com and follow me on twitter and Facebook. I blog every Wednesday here at New Politics.

  • Jogging our Memory

    Review of  Savage Portrayals: Race, Media and the Central Park Jogger Story
    By Natalie Byfield
    Temple University Press, 2014


    It was April 19, 1989. A 28-year-old white woman who lived on the Upper East Side and worked as a Wall Street investment banker was raped, beaten and left for dead while jogging that evening in northern Central Park. Within hours the police arrested four black and one Hispanic teen in what is still known as “the Central Park Jogger Case.” 

    Confessions, illicitly procured, were ruled admissible at trial by a judge picked out of order precisely because he was known to favor prosecutors. No other credible evidence was introduced. A cooperative media vilified the children, ages 14 and 15, who were found guilty in 1991 and sentenced to prison. The case itself became a national template for trying teenagers as adults. 

    Ten years later a career criminal — one who raped women just days before in the same section of the same park — confessed to the assault. DNA evidence showed he was the perpetrator. The young men, now adults and out of prison, are still fighting the city for a financial settlement, something  the Bloomberg administration resisted mightily and which Mayor de Blasio has not weighed in on yet. 

    At the time of the attack, Natalie Byfield was a young scribbler at the New York Daily News, assigned to the Harlem hospital treating the comatose jogger, She’s followed the case ever since, from reporter to journalism professor to St. John’s University sociologist. Her study, Savage Portrayals: Race, Media and the Central Park Jogger Story is both a history of the case and a damning indictment of police-media collusion in framing a story. 

    “To me,” she writes, “the story was then, as it is now, a classical case study in how news — and consequently reality — is constructed by media. It is also a great example of how language operates: how, as a system of knowledge, language reflects as well as reproduces that stratification and disparities in any society.”

    What language? Ritually referring to the attackers as “savage,”  “animalistic,” “wilding, “a wolfpack,” and “mutant” only reinforces the notion of attackers as “the other.” 

    Doing content analysis of two years of coverage, including her own, Byfield shows how the story was slanted, “not contextualized as a story about the rape culture in our society … [but] of a white woman brutalized by ‘savage black and Latino boys.’”

    Readers who might be troubled by the media’s use of crude racial stereotypes were urged not to waste their sympathy on the defendants even by an African-American liberal such as Bob Herbert. Then a columnist for the Daily News, Herbert mocked the boys’ appearance at a 1990 pre-trial hearing.

    “Some grown-ups had tried to dress them like divinity students or something, but it didn't work,” Herbert intoned before going on to describe one of the defendants as a “wimpish pipsqueak” and another as being “tall and awkward” and whose pretense of youthful innocence and appropriate dress “fell apart as soon as you looked at his ankles. His socks were the color of pistachio ice cream.”

    Against all that, the kids never had a chance. 

    So why did this happen? Part of it is a codependent relationship the media have with institutional sources — and sources are at the heart of what passes for objectivity. The police are a news-savvy source and crime is a major feature of the “if it bleeds, it leads” news world. Unless there is definitive proof that the police are implicated in malfeasance, they get a pass. Sources with contradictory information, such as social workers, religious or black community leaders or defense lawyers, are seen as less reliable.

    Conversely, the police, as holders of a monopoly on legitimate violence, need to maintain a good image. Says Byfield, “that image could determine the resources they receive. The police agencies need to effectively use producers of cultural products to articulate their own significance in society.” 

    Then there are class, race and gender issues. Byfield notes that whereas community newspapers run a police blotter column outlining a range of law-breaking in the paper’s catchment area, the large commercial media focus on the lurid and atypical, and attacks by men of color on white women, though rare, is a centuries-old trope. It’s “the other” attacking the fair heart of civilization that becomes the news. 

    As Byfield writes, “The story: White woman jogging in black section of park raped and nearly beaten to death by black and Latino boys on a rampage” is a twofer, “that is, while women crossing racial boundaries are in grave danger [northern Central Park, before the gentrification of Harlem, was considered a no-go zone for whites in the public imagination], blacks have a propensity to rape white women.” She calls the coverage, filed long before the trial or any objective look at real evidence, “a modern-day cautionary tale based on an old cultural narrative from the days of traditional racism.”

    The book demonstrates press critic A.J. Liebling’s apt observation that “people everywhere confuse what they read in newspapers with news.” We are the poorer for that confusion.

    Michael Hirsch is a member of the New Politics editorial board. “Jogging our Memory” first appeared in The Indypendent  #195, April 2014.

  • "Teacher jail" in Los Angeles now "jail teacher" in NYC

    Intimidation of US teachers has become truly chilling. Denver has a "do not hire" list on which any school employee can be placed by any supervising administrator. Los Angeles, like New York City, can assign a school employee to what LA teachers have referred to as "teacher jail," and NYC the "rubber room."  School employees are sent to a room where they are not permitted to do anything productive, languishing while the administration drags its feet in pursuing claims of misconduct, hoping the teachers will be worn out and quit.

    But now New York  City's Department of Education has started jailing, yes, jailing teachers who file complaints about corruption or even question what appears to be an impropriety. Judges are, of course, throwing out these bogus "harrassment" charges, but at least two teachers have been arrested and spent the night in jail.

    What other evidence do we about the importance of due process and tenure for teachers? And how could teachers unions, characterized so often by the media as "powerful," allow this to occur?  When teachers can no longer protect their right of free speech, they cannot protect children's safety or right to learn to think critically.  If elected officials of New York City teachers union (UFT) are unwilling or unable to use their political influence to stop this and won't organize teachers in the schools to create a union presence that will protect teachers from this kind of outrageous abuse, UFT honchos should step down and let others use union resources to do what's needed. No excuses!

  • A Rejoinder to Greco on Chomsky

    Anthony Greco, in his book Chomsky’s Challenge to American Power, charged Noam Chomsky with too often failing to meet “minimal standards of intellectual honesty” (p. 229). To prove his point he provided instances of things Chomsky wrote over the course of some fifty years that were inaccurate. In my review I noted that Greco said many things in his book that are inaccurate (including some of his claims of Chomsky’s inaccuracy) and wondered why Chomsky’s far lower rate of inaccuracy per book made Chomsky lacking in intellectual integrity, but not Greco.

    In his reply to my review, Greco concedes one of the inaccuracies I identified in his book (regarding whether, as he erroneously charged, Chomsky had falsely made the “spectacular accusation” that Salvadoran leader José Napoleon Duarte knew in advance of the killing of four American churchwomen) . For those with lots of time on their hands, I will address the main points in Greco’s reply to my review. For others, it should suffice to note that this single inaccuracy by Greco would make his inaccuracy rate greater than Chomsky’s by a considerable margin.

    On starvation in Afghanistan, Greco is simply wrong. His discussion in his book is based on two sources: Michael Bérubé’s The Left at War and an article by David Horowitz and Ronald Radosh in The Anti-Chomsky Reader (p. 247n134). In his reply Greco cites an article from Salon that is also depended on by Bérubé. Greco trumpets the fact that there were record food deliveries in Afghanistan in October and November. But this has no bearing on the argument. What matters is that the food delivery target goal of the aid agencies (52,000 metric tons a month) was not met in September, was only half met in October, and was slightly exceeded in November, the month the Taliban fell. If December had matched October or even November, there would not have been enough food in the country to make up for the previous shortfall and to distribute it to the many internal communities that needed food before they were cut off by snow. However, after the unexpected fall of the Taliban, December deliveries were more than double the target figure. (See sources cited in my article Far From Infinite Justice: Just War Theory and Operation Enduring Freedom, Arizona Journal of International and Comparative Law, vol. 26, no. 3 [2009], p. 690.) Thus, catastrophe was averted only by the unforeseen Taliban collapse.  And U.S. officials had been willing to continue with the bombing campaign despite the dire warnings from aid officials.

    On the issue of agency versus complicity, Greco writes that Chomsky’s phrase, ‘Carter’s war against the peasantry,’ was “an absurd characterization of the Carter administration’s inconsistent and feckless stance toward the Salvadoran terror.” There are two points to note here. First, “inconsistent and feckless” is an inadequate description of Carter’s policy; he was providing the arms that were being used for slaughter, over the protests of El Salvador’s archbishop. Second, while one can argue about whether this warrants Chomsky’s phrase, “Carter’s war against the peasantry,” it is not the case, as Greco says in his book, that “Chomsky asserts that the US government was actually organizing the massacres.” Greco provided no quote to support this claim.

    On Cambodia, Greco writes “This isn’t about an inaccurate citation, as Shalom seems to have inferred….” I didn’t infer it. Greco explicitly accused Chomsky of providing an inaccurate citation (“The self-quoted phrase comes not from the Nation article, as Chomsky and Herman claim, but from the later discussion” in After the Cataclysm [p. 235n24].) I wrote that this specific charge was incorrect. Chomsky and Herman’s text referred to both sources, gave some quotes, and then accurately had a footnote that attributed the quotes to After the Cataclysm and gave a reference to where they addressed the Nation article. Thus, I accurately pointed to an instance of Greco making a claim that Chomsky gave an inaccurate citation, which Chomsky did not do.

    Greco states that “as Shalom has acknowledged, there is in fact no admission in the Nation article of Khmer atrocities.” This is false. I did not acknowledge this, and could not have acknowledged this, because in the article Chomsky and Herman said the question, to which they didn’t at that time (1977) claim to know the answer, is whether events in Cambodia were on the scale of the killings of Nazi Germany or on the scale of the killings of post-liberation France, where many thousands were killed. Either way, there were atrocities. What I said in my review was that I thought Chomsky and Herman did not adequately address the criticisms that were made of their Nation article, which is quite different from acknowledging that there was no admission of atrocities.

    Greco says Chomsky and Herman did not admit the “the usability of refugee reports” in their Nation piece.  But they said “these reports must be considered seriously,” though “care and caution are necessary.” The book by François Ponchaud, which “gives a grisly account of what refugees have reported to him about the barbarity of their treatment at the hands of the Khmer Rouge,” they called “serious and worth reading.”

    On the Alterman quote, Greco can’t imagine how Chomsky’s error could have been unintentional:

    “But it was in the very next sentence after the one quoted by Chomsky that Alterman admonishes against joy. How could Chomsky have forgotten that?  Indeed, why would Chomsky have written down the Alterman quote at all, since he could not have failed to see immediately that it did not exemplify joy?”

    But that’s because he probably didn’t write the quotation down as an example of joy. He wrote it down as an example of liberal intellectual endorsement of an operation in which an unarmed person who posed no danger or risk of escape was killed. And when Chomsky saw that his using the Alterman quote after a quote by Robertson on joy gave an inaccurate impression, he revised his text to remove that misimpression. That Chomsky corrected the misimpression does not lead Greco to alter his view that Chomsky intentionally misrepresented Alterman (“choosing not to repeat an inaccuracy after having been called out about it publicly tells us nothing about the thinking behind the original inaccuracy”). But then why doesn’t this same logic apply to Greco’s false charge about Chomsky accusing Duarte of prior knowledge of the churchwomen’s murder? Couldn’t one say that Greco’s (somewhat hedged) concession of error may simply mean that he got publicly caught out in his original intentional misrepresentation?

    On the Alterman matter, Greco goes on to say, without elaboration, that “Another example of a manipulation of quotations follows.” Chomsky wrote in the revised version, that “some who held that ‘The killing of Osama bin Laden was a just and necessary undertaking’ expressed no joy while applauding the murder of a defenseless prisoner by an elite commando team facing no threat”? Alterman referred to this “tremendous achievement” and “the president’s cool, calm decision-making and demeanor—coupled with the peerless professional execution of the operation,” which “can only impress world opinion with the mature and steely determination of America’s post-Bush leadership.” Alterman certainly seems to have an extremely positive view of the operation, as Chomsky asserted.

    On the Gaddis quote, Greco writes that it is “hard to imagine how someone as smart as Chomsky could have” misinterpreted Gaddis “by accident,” but he omits in his reply what he noted in his book: that Gaddis’s “writing here is neither particularly lucid nor particularly cogent.” So, an instance of Chomsky misinterpreting a neither cogent nor lucid writer, leads Greco to conclude that this “strongly suggests conscious manipulation” (p. 224). Really?

    On the Schlesinger memos, Greco asks how an analysis of the appeals of communism could constitute evidence that the fear of communism is fraudulent. Of course U.S. elites feared communism. But the question is whether they feared it for the reasons they tried to get the American public to fear it. If U.S. officials had come out openly and said what Schlesinger wrote in private, namely that the communist threat was that it offered an attractive model to the poor and a source of development aid, the public might well have had a very different attitude toward the Cold War. Instead of supporting a massive military budget, arms shipments, and foreign interventions, the American people might have favored a different sort of foreign policy.   

    On the Judah reference, Greco says that Chomsky’s language was technically correct. He neglects to note, however, that in his book he had specifically drawn our attention to the precise language Chomsky used, and charged that it was this that was crucial in demonstrating the misrepresentation. Yes, I wish Chomsky had added a clarification to avoid any misunderstanding, just as I wish, for example, that Greco, when discussing Chomsky’s critique of the standard analysis of Soviet motives for invading Afghanistan, had made clear that Chomsky sharply condemned that invasion (p. 214). On Judah, Greco writes in his reply, “Chomsky’s omission may well have been inadvertent, but that doesn’t mean it was an accident.”  I’m not sure what the difference between these two is, but it doesn’t stop Greco from including this as another instance of Chomsky’s “misrepresentation.” 

    On Iraq’s helicopters, Greco notes that there were many reasons for the United States to have stayed out of Iraq’s civil war.  True, but he ignores my specific criticism. Where Greco said Chomsky was wrong to have said the U.S. “authorized” Saddam Hussein to crush the Shi’a revolt against him in 1991—this is “literally false,” wrote Greco (p. 178)—in fact the top U.S. official in Iraq, Gen. Norman Schwarzkopf, explicitly authorized the use of helicopters and that authorization was never rescinded. (Bush did not consider his various statements of concern regarding the helicopters to constitute a rescindment, as shown by the fact that in his memoirs, he has second thoughts about not having rescinded.) Greco says Hussein wouldn’t have listened to the U.S. in any event, but then why didn’t Hussein use fixed-wing aircraft against the rebels? Because the U.S. ordered him not to and had the military means to stop him from doing so.

    I’ve been a friend of Noam Chomsky’s for many years. He is mortal. He sometimes makes errors, sometimes overstates, sometimes makes wrongheaded judgments. There is nothing wrong with someone pointing these out. But Greco does more. He concludes—with no evidence—that almost every Chomsky mistake is an intentional misrepresentation. And he charges that Chomsky’s “intellectual integrity is subject to serious question” (p. 226). Such claims seem particularly inappropriate coming from someone who, as I’ve shown, has his own share of errors.

     

  • Noam Chomsky on American Power: A Reply to Shalom

    I conclude my book, Chomsky’s Challenge to American Power (Vanderbilt University Press, 2014), by describing Noam Chomsky as a contradictory figure.  Chomsky has been a powerful voice of outrage at morally abhorrent policies.  He has provided important and valid insights into the contemporary political world, often offering perspectives and information not readily found in the work of mainstream journalists and academics.  But Chomsky’s single-minded determination to expose the destructiveness and criminality of American power mars the reliability of his work.  It leads to oversimplification and imbalance in his political analyses.   More than occasionally, he makes claims and draws conclusions that are inadequately supported by evidence.

    Stephen Shalom has good things to say about the book, but he clearly feels that I have been unfairly harsh on Chomsky. The bulk of his review is devoted to attempts at refuting some of my specific criticisms.   I will deal with each of his major points in very roughly ascending order of merit.  (All page references will be to Chomsky’s Challenge.)

    What Chomsky and Herman say they said about Cambodia – Shalom seems to have misunderstood my point.  In Chomsky’s Challenge (pp. 52, 226) I show that Chomsky and co-author Edward Herman make false claims about what they said in their widely criticized June 1977 Nation article.   The critical sentence by Chomsky and Herman, which both Shalom and I cite, reads as follows:

    “In that article we were clear and explicit, as also subsequently, that refugee reports left no doubt that the record of Khmer Rouge atrocities was ‘substantial and often gruesome’ and that “in the case of Cambodia, there is no difficulty in documenting major atrocities and oppression, primarily from the reports of refugees.’”  

    Now, as Shalom has acknowledged, there is in fact no admission in the Nation article of Khmer atrocities; the article, moreover, emphasizes the extreme unreliability of refugee reports of atrocities.   The admission of substantial and gruesome atrocities, and of the usability of refugee reports, came later, in Chomsky and Herman’s 1979 book After the Cataclysm.   Shalom seems to believe that the critical sentence refers only to After the Cataclysm, but it clearly refers both to the Nation article and to After the Cataclysm.   And, as far as the Nation article is concerned, it is undeniably false. Shalom highlights the phrase “as also subsequently,” as if those words somehow change the false claim made with respect to the Nation article.  But the phrase “and also subsequently” does not magically erase the phrase “In that article.”  This isn’t about an inaccurate citation, as Shalom seems to have inferred; it’s about Chomsky and Herman’s attribution to the Nation article of ideas expressed only later, in After the Cataclysm.

    An analogy may be helpful here.   Suppose the first time I met Joe Smith I was rude to him, but I was perfectly civil to him the second time we met.  Suppose I then write “At our first meeting, as also subsequently, I was perfectly civil to Joe.”  Am I not falsely claiming to have been civil to him the first time?  Of course I am!  And, if I had incurred criticism for my rudeness, you might well suspect that in my written account I was trying to conflate the two occasions, to deflect attention from my earlier rudeness.    Similarly, it is natural to suspect that Chomsky would like us to forget what he actually said in that controversial and terribly flawed Nation article, recalling only the modified stance taken in After the Cataclysm.    Indeed, this wasn’t the only time Chomsky made misleading statements about what he had said about Cambodia.  (See pp. 51, 227 and 250n.66.)

    The Alterman quote—Shalom recognizes that Chomsky misrepresented Eric Alterman’s views when Chomsky cited Alterman disapprovingly as an example of joy at the death of Bin Laden.  But Shalom would have us believe that this was an honest mistake: “You see an interesting quote, you write it down, and when you later use it you forget the original context of the quote….” But it was in the very next sentence after the one quoted by Chomsky that Alterman admonishes against joy.   How could Chomsky have forgotten that?  Indeed, why would Chomsky have written down the Alterman quote at all, since he could not have failed to see immediately that it did not exemplify joy?  The thesis of an honest mistake is just not believable.    And it doesn’t help that there are other examples of Chomsky’s dubious use of quotations, one of which was strikingly similar to the Alterman case.  (See pages 158-159.)  As for the “update”: choosing not to repeat an inaccuracy after having been called out about it publicly tells us nothing about the thinking behind the original inaccuracy.  Another example of a manipulation of quotations follows.

    The Gaddis quote—In the book (p. 224) I point to Chomsky’s citation of two sentences, separated by an ellipsis, from a work by the historian John Lewis Gaddis.  Chomsky represents the sentences as expressing a view that is consistent with Chomsky’s own.  I described the two sentences as disparate, not only because they appear a full page apart in Gaddis’s text, but because they do not represent a continuity of thought.   Individually and together, they do not remotely mean what Chomsky purports them to mean; Chomsky simply cherry-picked the two sentences out of context, misrepresenting Gaddis’s discussion.   Shalom focuses on my observation that the two sentences were cited out of order, but he ignores the more critical point that the “passage” Chomsky has thus constructed does not represent the author’s view.  (Shalom has acknowledged to me that it does not.)  It is hard to imagine how someone as smart as Chomsky could have done this by accident, but in an attempt to be charitable, I suggest that Chomsky possibly could have misunderstood Gaddis.  But, in that unlikely case, I add, “…it would constitute powerful evidence of how Chomsky’s perception can be warped by his intellectual biases.” 

    The Schlesinger memos—In memos to President Kennedy, adviser Arthur Schlesinger Jr. analyzed the bases for Fidel Castro’s appeal in Latin America. Chomsky cites those memos as proof that “The fear of communism was always a total fraud.”  I’m not questioning Chomsky’s integrity but his judgment, his readiness to draw conclusions consistent with his general views but unsupported or poorly supported by evidence.  How does an analysis of the appeals of communism constitute evidence that the fear of communism is fraudulent?  Shalom tries to make the connection by observing that Schlesinger doesn’t invoke the specter of Soviet or Cuban armed aggression.  But so what?  That doesn’t prove that Schlesinger, much less the American political elite more broadly, didn’t genuinely fear communism.  (The communist regime in China was no less fearsome for the fact that its origins owed nothing to Soviet intervention.)  In any case, Schlesinger’s memos represented the views of one relatively sophisticated presidential adviser at one point in time during the 40-plus years of Cold War.  To generalize from such an analysis that the fear of communism was always a total fraud is ludicrous.   

    Agency vs. Complicity—Shalom challenges my contention that Chomsky frequently conflates US complicity in the crimes of others with US agency.  Shalom points to the philosophic debate about whether failing to stop wrongdoing (complicity) is equally or nearly equally deserving of condemnation as actually committing the wrongdoing (agency).  According to Shalom, “Chomsky believes that when one fails to stop atrocities that one has the power to stop then the distinction between complicity and agency doesn’t matter very much.” 

    That is a respectable (though debatable) position, but an assessment of moral responsibility cannot justify a misleading account of the facts.   In his discussion of US policy in El Salvador in the 1980s, Chomsky doesn’t merely say that the United States was morally responsible for massacres committed by the Salvadoran security forces; he portrays the Carter administration as the driving force behind the massacres, conducted under the “auspices” of Carter and the figurehead Salvadoran leader Duarte.   The result is “Carter’s war against the peasantry,” an absurd characterization of the Carter administration’s inconsistent and feckless stance toward the Salvadoran terror.

    Starvation in Afghanistan—In mid-October 2001 Chomsky charged that the United States in initiating its war in Afghanistan was engaging in a “silent genocide” because US military operations were preventing the delivery of food aid critical to preventing the starvation of millions of Afghans.  He repeated that assertion in books published in the next two years.  In fact, no mass starvation did occur, and it turns out that US intervention actually facilitated the delivery of food aid.  

    Shalom argues that this positive turn of events was unforeseeable at the time Chomsky made his accusation.  According to Shalom, the war would have rendered practically impossible the successful delivery of food aid until the Taliban were ousted from power.   He demonstrates that US military planners expected this to take many months, so he concludes that they were anticipating and willing to cause mass starvation.  But he seems to be wrong in his assumption that significant food aid delivery depended upon the fall of the Taliban.  Kabul fell to the Americans on Nov. 12, but the UN’s World Food Program reported that even in October, the agency had succeeded in providing a record volume of food aid; by mid-November, the WPF had already reached their October volume.  According to one longtime humanitarian worker interviewed by Salon in mid-November, “More aid has gone into Afghanistan in the past month than in the past year…” Chomsky was presumably unaware of these facts in mid-October, but that goes to my point: a charge of genocide is very serious; it should not be made in the absence of very compelling evidence.  The evidence at the time he spoke out was murky.   

    I think my summary of Chomsky’s comments and writings on this was perfectly fair (p. 195): “Chomsky’s original accusation might be defended as a somewhat reckless but well-intended effort to raise an issue of important humanitarian concern.  His subsequent iterations of the charge suggest both an unwillingness to admit error and a resolute determination to ascribe the worst possible motives and consequences to US policy.”

    The Judah reference—Chomsky cites the journalist Tim Judah’s account that the Serbian attack on the Bosnian village of Srebrenica was effectively pre-approved by the United States and its allies.  Chomsky summarizing Judah tells us that the United States “gave a green light to the Serb attack on Srebrenica, which led to the slaughter of 7000 people….” But Chomsky does not tell us that Judah also noted that the United States had no idea that the Serbian action would lead to the subsequent massacre.   This is a critical omission, which allows the reader to infer that Judah said that the whole of Serb actions in Srebrenica that summer, including the massacre, were preapproved by the United States.   Yes, as Shalom notes, Chomsky’s language was technically correct, but with the right omissions, technically correct language can be misleading.   Chomsky’s omission may well have been inadvertent, but that doesn’t mean it was an accident.   Whatever his conscious intent, Chomsky’s account fits into his pattern of bias toward narratives emphasizing American culpability, downplaying or ignoring contravening evidence. 

    Iraq’s helicopters—At the close of the First Gulf War Saddam Hussein brutally crushed internal regional revolts against his rule.   Shalom argues that the US failure to prevent Saddam from using armed helicopters against the rebels strengthens Chomsky’s claim that the United States authorized Saddam to crush the revolt.  The explanation for that failure is more complicated than Chomsky or Shalom suggests.

    There were many good reasons, which Chomsky ignores, for the United States to stay out of an incipient Iraqi civil war.   The Bush administration’s less than coherent response to the revolts reflected ambivalence and internal contention.   Suffice it to say that once the US intention not to intervene was clear, it is highly doubtful that Saddam would have responded to a simple word of recision from Norman Schwarzkopf.  (President Bush did, indeed, admonish the Iraqis against the combat use of the helicopters, but was not prepared to back up his warning with action.)  No one can seriously argue that Chomsky’s claim of authorization reflects a reasonably full and balanced consideration of the relevant issues.  My conclusion stands:  Chomsky reduced a problematically complex situation to a straightforward illustration of unambiguously evil US motives. 

    Duarte and the churchwomen’s murder—Shalom got this one right: I attributed to Chomsky an assertion that he apparently did not intend.  Chomsky’s language wasn’t altogether clear, but I should have recognized that it was at worst ambiguous.  After he pointed it out to me, I investigated and acknowledged my error to Shalom.

    Shalom’s final, overarching defense of Chomsky is that we all make mistakes.  He says that I have found only about a dozen errors and misinterpretations in all Chomsky’s political writings.   That number is debatable, depending on how we define “errors and misinterpretations.”   If those categories include large and small elisions of fact, blatantly tendentious arguments, and assertions inadequately supported by evidence, then careful readers of the text and notes to Chomsky’s Challenge will note many more such errors and misinterpretations.  Of these, a relatively small number, including the misstatements and doctored quotations discussed earlier, do raise unavoidable questions of intellectual integrity. “Nothing in Greco’s book demonstrates that Chomsky is worse in this regard than others…” Of course not; I would have to do similar book-length studies of “others” to demonstrate that.

    But my aim in writing Chomsky’s Challenge wasn’t to compare Chomsky to others, much less to pillory him for intellectual recklessness.  It was to help serious, thoughtful readers to an understanding of both the strengths and weaknesses of Chomsky’s work on politics.   I wouldn’t have written this book if I didn’t appreciate Chomsky’s contributions to our political discourse.   Like Chomsky and Shalom I believe that American power has inflicted a great deal of unnecessary suffering on the world.  But the facts of that ugly reality are bad enough; they don’t need to be overstated.   Chomsky’s predilection for overstatement detracts from his credibility.  I sometimes get annoyed when I see commentators treat Chomsky with dismissiveness or condescension or worse, but unfortunately, he does give them pretext.   I think I have made a case for Chomsky’s value and importance that is all the more credible because it is entirely up front about his shortcomings.    

     

  • Militant Minorities and Union Unity

    Steve Early. Save Our Unions: Dispatches from a Movement In Distress. Monthly Review Press, November 2013. 304 pages. Notes. Index.

    Union struggles are more than leaders issuing marching orders from afar; they are rooted in the lived experienced and activities of countless individuals who seek justice on the job – and whose joining others in collective action for dignity, security and a decent standard of living touch on issues fundamental to the underlying structures of our society.  The frequent losses registered in those struggles during recent decades underscores the point; as unions have weakened, our society has become more unequal, more unjust, less democratic.  Steve Early’s Save Our Unions (Monthly Review Press, 2013) presents a powerful portrait of rank-and-file members and labor activists battling against the tide.  But with that, he puts forth an analysis built on an assumption of an implied inherent antagonism between active members and existing labor institutions that fails in its goal of pointing a direction out of our current impasse.   The strengths and weaknesses of his position can be seen in the following quote from the book:

    Employment conditions in restructured industries, like auto manufacturing, or deregulated ones, like trucking, are trending backwards toward those that prevailed in the pre-union era.  When the difference between union and non-union shops became harder to distinguish, the appeal of unionization begins to dim.  When members are angry, alienated, or disengaged the internal and external organizing needed to strengthen unions is much harder, making overall labor moment survival (not to mention revival) more difficult.  Even if the locus of workplace struggle today has shifted from the industrial hot spots of the 1970s to other sectors of the economy, the need for bottom up change – through creation of new unions or, where possible, transformation of older ones – is no less urgent. (p. 24)

    The premise is accurate; the shift in the focus of labor activism in line with shifts in the locus of economic activity has not shifted the fundamental nature of the issues behind that activism, of the need for bottom up change.  In fact, in a period combining industrial restructuring and employer anti-union offensive, the need for unions to be open to membership engagement is more important than ever.  The extent to which unionists see organizations as their own will be the measure that determines whether it will be possible to develop forms of collective action capable of countering the financial and political power of employers, a point that runs like a red thread throughout Early’s book.

    Within that generally valid perspective, however, lies a questionable note; the implication that bottom up change might mean creation of new unions, for the transformation of old ones may not be possible.  Even apart from forming new organizations, Early favors structures of union activists – the militant minority – over existing bodies that exhibit less clear purpose.  This preference is reflected in Early’s frequent contrasting networks established by the independent monthly, Labor Notes and rank & file movements to most unions with their bureaucratic structures, comparative immobility and timidity.  The comparison, however, is a false one, for these are two different kinds of vehicles.  Networks of like-minded individuals who share a stated commitment are key to progress in any society or institution, unions and other broad working-class and progressive organizations amongst them; otherwise, they tend to become ossified, fall under the ideological sway of the dominant institutions in society and tend to move away from their object.  Although some few unions have done better jobs than others of maintaining rank-and-file engagement and a critical view of society, most do not because negotiation with management, the signing of contracts, the very logic of capital, tends to reinforce division and compromise.  The needed radicalism and militance of workplace networks, however, can only be transformative when a part of rather than apart from the unions they criticize.  And organizations – rank and file networks, militant unions, or mainstream/conservative unions — can only be successful in advancing working class interest if organically connected to organizations and movements (mainstream and radical) outside the workplace, for only through that linkage can a broader view of worker interest and needs be maintained.

    This is a difficulty that faces those involved in “salting,” – taking a job for the express purpose of organizing the worksite.  One of the most informative chapters of Save Our Unions provides a view of the activities and perspectives of several young people so engaged.   Taking jobs as bike messengers, in hotels and in food service, their direct experience of life at the sharp edge of exploitation gives them an appreciation of working peoples lives far removed from the abstractions that those who organize only from a distance, only as staff, might project.  This experience, in turn, gives them a sense of workers’ capacity, and thus of the value as well as the necessity of a strong steward network, of membership participation, if unionization is to take hold and survive.  It is a lesson to those in thrall of “strategic” organizing which looks at labor relations almost as a business venture, filled with opportunity, loss, market share, while  forgetting that unions are a voice of working people or they are nothing.  That is a truth at the heart of Early’s entire book.

    Yet, though more militant, though critical of union top-down attitudes, the outlook and actions of the “salts,” Early discusses seem strikingly narrow  – the workplace becomes to them an almost closed world.  Full-time union officers and staff may sometimes lose connection to the world of work their members live, at the same time they may have time and perspective to gain a broader, wider view of the issues facing workers as part of the labor movement as a whole.  The individuals Early discusses seem unaware of that possibility, or perhaps reject it out of hand.  Focused on the direct organizing tasks before them, “extraneous” issues, even one step removed are absent expect insofar as they might directly help or hinder the campaign. And, in that sense, their view is analogous to those with a “top-down,” view of organizing.  Clearly most have a left politics that must have involved reading and engagement with the broad issues of society – war and peace, environmental justice, repression, but these seem to have little place in their time or thoughts.  That may in part be because it is not possible to integrate into a community the way it is into a workplace – and why salting, for all its genuine value, has generally not led to sustained success; strong unions rely on a broader sense of the justice of labor organization within the wider communities (community defined in many different ways) to which workers belong.  Absent that, the discontinuities in employment means discontinuities in labor politics.  The “salts” discussed in the book don’t see that, which is reflects in a rejection of electoral politics and legislative battles as being somehow removed from workers concerns – rather than seeing that organizing to make those battles relevant is directly relevant to internal and external union building.

    Early’s outlook is more well-rounded but the fact that he doesn’t note that absence reflects his similar focus on workplace union struggles, with other concerns seemingly secondary.  Labor’ strength lies at the point of production – true in today’s post-modern world of temp jobs in service industries as it was in the days of manufacturing ascendency.  But that point of production strength has always relied on a broader engagement out of which a class understanding grows and takes shape on the range of issues of everyday life – housing, school, crime, prison, taxes, war, presidential politics – and out of which comes the sustenance that can allow an alternative understanding and forms of action come to life.  That was the basis for the mass protests, demonstrations, strikes in immigrant communities in 2006 and of the Occupy movement in 2012 – bookending the period under review by Early.  No doubt it influenced those “salters,” no doubt they were sympathetic to those outbreaks – but there does not seem to be any connection between their organizing and those wider movements.  It is a weakness in that model of action and it is instructive that Early does it address it as such. 

    Another sign of this is in his accounts of bargaining, organizing, rank & file and strike struggles of the Communications Workers of America (CWA); the union he served as an International Representative for 27 years.  Based on direct experience in confrontations with Telecom and Verizon, these are the most detailed and nuanced sections of the book, giving a full picture of how a strong, progressive union is nonetheless often forced to retreat due to the combination of employer aggressiveness and government indifference or complicity in the ensuing attacks.  For those who only see labor from the outside, it provides a picture of how much work so many have to do to simply survive and hold onto past gains.  For active trade unionists, it raises important questions about how to make that work effective.  Describing a long campaign directed at Telecom, Early writes:

    The main defenses of the past have included systemic membership education and mobilization based on high functioning steward networks, aggressive contract campaigns, community-labor coalition building, IBEW-CWA unity, “bargaining to organize,” and open-ended strikes.  These fortifications may not hold unless there is continual reassessment of what works and what doesn’t followed by better organizational adaptation to an ever-changing industrial battlefield.  When national or local union hierarchies fail to provide the coordination and institutional support necessary for new or old forms of resistance, more union reform initiatives of the sort described in this section will be necessary, if not always sufficient, whether they succeed initially or not. (p. 179). 

    What follows details the ups and downs of that Telecom campaign (assisted by the German union Verdi), and descriptions of organizing, bargaining and strike strategy at Verizon and ATT.  CWA faces an uphill battle, pitting the localized strength of unions against globalized corporate structures ready and willing to use the power capital mobility gives them – and aided by technology that enables them to limit the effectiveness of most strikes.  The union’s tactics, level of membership involvement and community outreach are well-described – and so too are the independent rank-and-file movements Early sees as needed to give backbone to CWA’s action plans.  One such initiative led to a long-time shop steward challenging a “preferred” candidate for a national leadership spot after a serious bargaining setback at AT&T.  Unlike reform efforts fighting organized crime, this campaign makes use of existing democratic procedures in CWA to push for a more aggressive bargaining, mobilizing strategy rooted in members (and thus pitting rank-and-file workers against staff/officers who have become too comfortable).  Strong support is not enough to win, but the extent of the support is a clear sign that a significant number of active members are open to change – and a positive reflection of CWA’s internal culture that the issues could be argued out without the opposition fearing leadership retribution.  That was not the case at Local 1101 – a large local representing Verizon workers — in which corruption and, consequently, the sacrifice of members interests was at issue.  A strong steward network within the local mobilized members who had been left defenseless, and the challenge was successful.

    In both instances the efforts are examples of the kind of internal engagement unions need.  But they also indicate Early’s preference for such movements almost in distinction to the wider unions of which they are a part.  What is unclear, however, is whether such movements by themselves are sufficient to be transformative.  Rank-and-file movements cannot substitute for the union as a whole; rather their effectiveness depends on their being able to move the entire structure.  And that depends on their focus remaining on corporate capital not the union leaders (or misleaders) who block action. If they lose that focus, they can become too inward. Division over internal union politics and elections is viable only when the impetus for a more aggressive union also makes a broader unity possible. Otherwise hope for change is blocked. Early’s account of Local 1101’s new leadership advocating rejection of a contract is a case in point. 

    The arguments against the contract appear sound – but by themselves can never be enough. Any call for a “no” vote needs to also project how something better might be won. Narrowly defeated by that local, the contract was ratified by 55 other CWA locals and 8 IBEW locals – whose members were likely just as aware of its inadequacies. From all appearances then, the rejection is a statement unconnected to the core question of how to develop a base for an alternative strategy which, especially in the telecommunications industry, requires something more than industrial strength; it requires political strength in every sense of the word – political strength both in the immediate sense of legislative action and in the more basic sense of connection to transformative social movements.  Mobilizing more members and communities allies are a needed part of gaining that strength but alone will not get the union the strength it needs.  But such politics does not seem to an integral component of the rank-and-file movements under discussion.

    Health reform – discussed at length — reinforces the need to do so.  The negative impact of the Affordable Care Act on many existing union-negotiated agreements is a serious problem for labor as a whole; Early’s criticisms of it are cogent.  Good union plans weren’t gifts, they were fought for – and often negotiated in lieu of wage increases or accepted instead of some other benefit.  The strength of forces opposed to universal social insurance drew a line in the sand when it came to health care; workers were forced to rely on their own strength at the bargaining table to get good coverage, it is the height of demagoguery of the sort promoted by the National Right to Work committee and other business groups to imply otherwise.  Worse still, the decision to tax existing plans in order to help pay for health reform falls into the category of sowing division – forcing one group of workers to pay for a program for others – a logic that flows from the limitation of any reform that tries to gain acceptance by not challenging – by not taxes – the wealthy.  This has divided private sector from public sector workers, the organized from the unorganized – and behind it, often white from black, Latino, immigrants, and is one of the reasons for labor’s weakness, for the political weakness of progressive social reform movements.

    But Early never looks at the other side of health reform – it provides benefits to millions who were without, helping those without benefit of union protection, helping prisoners and homeless, helping dispossessed communities.  And reflecting that, community activists in many parts of the country are busy enrolling and educating people about health reform, thereby also challenging right-wing distortions of “Obamacare.”  Unionists who keep their eyes too narrowly on the loss to their members wind up falling into the trap of strengthening the walls of division.  The response to this by many, Early included, is to counterpose the advantage of single-payer, of a genuine national health insurance system, to the reforms enacted on the initiative of the Obama Administration.  And, absolutely, it would be a change for the better for all working people, for our entire society.  But universal health care is not going to be won if those who benefit from the current change see its advocates as opponents of the change made that they support.  By viewing the world of labor in isolation, a perspective is offered that fails to propose the steps that need to be taken to build unity across people divided in viewpoint because divided in circumstance, fails to address – like the perspective behind that no vote on a contract – the path from rejection to advance.

    It is an outlook that leads Early to sometimes miss the point of what he describes.  A chapter on Vermont gives an account of Bernie Sanders fending off tea-party inspired critics at a town hall meeting, gives an account of the patient and principled work of the Vermont Progressive Party to build a successful independent electoral statewide party.  The fact of the VPP’s success over many years, the fact that Sanders has repeatedly won elections in the House and Senate as an independent socialist are reasons to be hopeful that US politics is not doomed forever to a choice between lesser evils.  But the fact is that to be successful, Sanders has had to caucus and work closely with Democrats, to be successful he has had to defend health reform while also advocating something better, to speak to the mixed bag of politics and emotions of constituents because only by engaging people across existing lines of division can he have an impact.  Early’s description of the means by which the VPP is working to establish a single-payer system in Vermont points to the same; their ability to move the state’s politics leftward is connected to the ability to compromise and principle, the ability to work with Democrats (and Republicans too where possible).  Independence is used as a means to achieve greater unity not more division (and, though it isn’t the view of the book – and perhaps not of the partisans on either side – it is not all that different from the strategy of the Working Families Party in New York, even though the nature of its arena forces more compromise).

    Save Our Unions concludes by posing that alternative in different form – perhaps independence and division is the only way forward.  The epilogue describes and analyzes the bitter conflict that developed after SEIU put a large local representing Kaiser medical center workers in California under trusteeship over their differences in the union’s policy and direction.  Rather than accept the imposition, the local leadership split off, creating the National Union of Health Care Workers (NUHW) as an independent union.  SEIU has for many years functioned much the way the Teamsters did in the 1960s and 1970s; organizing to grow on the basis of any agreement possible.  Sometimes these have involved militant, direct action campaigns rooted in worker involvement, but more often (and more frequently over time) the approach has been “bargaining to organize,” which, as Early describes, means that employer agreement has become more important than worker engagement, employer agreement more important than the gains a contract should bring.  The inevitable result of that approach is to make the union dependent on employer good will – and thus has set SEIU on a course of conflict with others unions during negotiations and during legislative campaigns – which is behind SEIU’s conflictual relationship with the California Nurses Association/National Nurses Union.  Behind this strategy is the belief that workers are not strong enough in today’s economy, in today’s political environment, to organize themselves in numbers sufficient to regain labor power. 

    Thus any approach that is seeks to push demands further than industry (in this case, hospital management) is ready and wiling to concede becomes a threat.  Kaiser provided the perfect backdrop for that conflict – for SEIU’s leadership it is a model of collaborative labor-management relations, whereas many workers experience that collaboration as pressure to do more for less.  NUHW’s strong base of support is indicative of the degree of discontent that stemmed from acquiescence to that pressure in the name of cooperation.   Yet it is extremely hard to dislodge an existing union with existing contracts, to win representation rights from a union that is already in place; just as it is hard to displace incumbent leaderships in a union no matter how bad a job they have done. 

    SEIU’s victory over NUHW in a hard-fought contested representation election, for Early, is symptomatic of a deeper problem – despite the steady erosion of union strength, despite the accompanying decline of workers’ living standards and workers’ rights, the labor movement has not been able to transform itself into a fighting body, has not been able to provide clear-cut leadership in struggle against the global corporate juggernaut.   He takes aim at the “exclusive representation” clause of US labor law – the clause that means that once a majority of workers at a particular worksite vote for a union, only that union can represent those workers, thereby preventing other unions that might represent a minority of workers from also having bargaining rights.  Although this appears natural, it is only a consequence of how the National Labor Relations (Wagner) Act was written and is by no means the only way union presence can be constructed.  Early explains,

    If the United States were a country like France, Kaiser workers dissatisfied with SEIU would simply quit that organization and make their voluntary dues payment to NUHW instead. In many countries, national labor law does not grant any union exclusive bargaining rights, which means that multiple unions or labor federations can compete for members and play a representational role in the same enterprise or workplace.  But … this is not how the Post-Wagner Act system of labor relations works in this country, for better or worse.  Everyone represented by a Kaiser union in California is required to pay dues instead.  The thousands of workers at Kaiser and other hospitals who want to leave SEIU are forced to remain captive members or fee payers.  Their own dues money continues to be used against them … (p. 301).

    Leaving aside the fact that multiple union federations in France (and Italy and Spain) have often been used to undermine militant labor and that these workers strength (itself badly eroded in recent years) come from parliamentary systems and other labor laws far from what we have, the point still remains – how do we in the US transform our labor movement into the fighting vehicle it needs to become.  Early advocates a form of parallel or minority unionism – used now at unorganized sites to press workers rights even without contractual protection – as a vehicle of struggle at already organized workplaces when the union in place is not fighting sufficiently hard for members’ interests.  He thus concludes his book with the following call to action:

    The goal of “saving our unions” is best pursued in ecumenical fashion from the bottom up, with no false dichotomy between “external” and “internal” organizing.  Activists trying to expand the labor movement by building “alternative institutions,” should not neglect or, worse yet, reject the struggles of union members to create alternatives to their existing unions.  Wherever the traditional route of union reform is blocked and workers remain trapped in labor-management relationships that deprive them of any meaningful, independent voice, the militant minority will soldier on.  Its usual friends and allies will continue to lend a hand because they know that the magic kingdom of labor-management partnering is no laboratory for creating a more democratic, inclusive, and social justice-oriented labor movement.  It is far more likely that elements of such a movement will emerge from worker resistance to company unionism, where the first glimpse of something better are already visible and inspiring at Kaiser.” (p.307)

    Workers can and should organize to take independent action no matter what the circumstances; certainly Kaiser workers after being put in trusteeship had the right to attempt to form their own union.  But the key to any such strategy is the ability of new organizations, of that militant minority, to create unity with those they have left behind.  And so while reading Early’s book, my thoughts returned to a part of family history that I think bears repeating.

    A coal miner since the age of 12, my grandfather took part in revolutionary action in Germany after World War I – when the tide shifted, he was amongst those blacklisted and so emigrated to the US in 1926 for what he thought would be a temporary sojourn.  Like other German miners, he wound up in the Western Pennsylvania mines and took part in the desperate struggles waged at that time, including participation in the formation of the Communist-led National Miners Union.  The union – established as an alternative to the seemingly vanquished, unreformable, United Mine Workers — led a bitter, hard-fought strike that ended in the workers’ defeat, the organization’s destruction, and, for him (and others) another blacklist.  It was 1932, he then moved to New York where my Grandmother was taking part in an organizing drive amongst her fellow domestic workers.  A year later, as family members were being carted off to concentration camps, it became clear that a long-planned return to Germany would be impossible – my mother, who had remained awaiting that return, now came to the US then too.  At that point, my grandfather became a building engineer and took part in some of the hard fought organizing within the gangster-ridden BSEIU (Building Service International Union the predecessor of today’s SEIU) to establish it as a fighting instrument for its members.

    In bits and pieces, he told me of those times when I was young, and drawing on that experience (as well as the defeat suffered by the German working-class in 1933) to made clear his deep opposition to “dual unionism,” – a term, I grant, I did not understand at first — forcefully arguing that we could not build our own “perfect” organization away from all others, as it left workers divided and the most militant isolated.  The fight for a democratic union, for a union based on class-struggle not class collaboration, could not be separated from building unity amongst all workers within existing ones, no matter how bad they might be.

    The clock turns, after yet another period of the blacklist, this time McCarthy-era 1950s.  Eventually, he finds his way back to a unionized job, becoming the head of the maintenance department at Montefiore hospital in the Bronx, and a member of 1199 – a union he appreciated and respected.  But he had one sharp criticism at the time: 1199 was buying cooperative housing for its members as a shield against the rising rents which was then beginning to make New York City unaffordable for working people.  He told me that at a union meeting he explained the fate of the Austrian working-class: the Karl Marx housing built to replace tenement slums in Vienna became a trap, destroyed in 1934 when labor was defeated after taking up arms against home-grown fascists.  An adult now, I did not need to look up the history of Austrian social democracy, and he simply assumed I knew the context of which he spoke. 

    He would not have expected his much younger fellow workers with roots far from Central Europe to know that particular past.  Instead he broke down what he meant – unions either fight for all workers or only the portion they represented; either New York unions fought for affordable rent-controlled apartments for the entire city or they accepted a partial solution that might look good at the moment but which would ultimately leave workers divided, members isolated.  He knew that most workers wouldn’t, couldn’t see it that way; the concrete prospect of a decent place to live would be hard to give up, especially against the drift of the times which would soon lead to the election of Koch as Mayor – an exemplar of the hate-filled stratagem “divide and conquer.”  But the real question was when those houses were built, would the union use it as a step for all, or would it see protecting its members in isolation from others.  That is, it wasn’t the reform that mattered; it was how it was used.  Moreover, for him the question was not idle, support for integrated housing and integrated public schools for him in the 1960s were every bit as much a question for unions to support as higher wages or a grievance procedure. 

    And this was the other side of his opposition to dual unionism – unions had to be politically engaged, had to fight for class-wide solutions to particular problems.    For this was the way to change unions – racism, national chauvinism, the faux patriotism of war had to be challenged in every instance.  For him, these were bigger obstacles to working-class gain than the most bureaucratic or bought and paid-for union leader.  That was the lesson he drew from US union defeats in the 20s, progress in the 30s retreats in the 50s, from the fate of the German workers movement too.  Behind it was something else, his core confidence in the strength and ability of working people if so united.

    Much has changes in the years since then, but the points he made remain valid.  He was a proponent of the militant minority but in a different sense than that which Early uses the term – for that militant minority cannot separate itself from other workers in competing organizations and – more important can’t lose sight of the capitalist system that pushes unions into being sectional organizations.  Once bad leaders and bad practices, once “backward workers,” become seen as the chief obstacle to forward movement, than the system itself becomes a secondary not a primary target. 

    Early, no doubt, would not disagree with most of the above, at issue is how to get there.  And that returns us to Save Our Unions – all criticisms above notwithstanding, it is an important book, one worth reading, examining, debating.

  • Race, racism and teachers unions: Making the connections

                This past week I participated in a “Don’t tread on educators” workshop for NYC teachers who are fighting against having been given unsatisfactory ratings by supervisors. They shared personal stories of being singled out for punishment after years of satisfactory service and of their union, the United Federation of Teachers (UFT) that will not support them and worse, often collaborates at the highest levels with the administration in pushing them out of their careers.

                Earlier in the week I had been a discussant at the annual conference American Educational Research Association in an excellent session about race and teachers unions. Though I didn’t make the connection until after the NYC meeting, I should have realized that most of the people in the room were African American women with considerable teaching experience. As was explained in the AERA session, African American teachers are being replaced because of both their race and their career status. (I prefer this term to "veteran" but that's another conversation…)

                One paper in the session described how Chicago’s reform caucus, CORE, now the leadership of the Chicago Teachers Union focuses on race and racism.  Too often as the CTU becomes the template  for reform elsewhere, activists ignore how important anti-racism work and race consciousness were for CORE’s development.  Another paper described the mass firings of career black teachers in New Orleans, destruction of the public school system (and its union), replacement of “indigenous black teachers” by “inexperienced,  transient white teachers,” with no connections to the students or communities the new schools ostensibly served.  The third paper described development of a community-based charter school that empowered students, teachers, and parents in Austin Texas, in a project supported by the local union.

                What all three papers pointed to, explicitly or implicitly, was the need to name and rectify the historic and continuing complicity of teachers unions in social inequality, their failure to support challenges by oppressed groups to alter status quo.  In the past (and today in locals like Philadelphia) teacher union officials,even those who are themselves minority and have many minority members, have not put forward a “race conscious” form of teacher unionism. This pattern has been challenged by the CTU and by Karen Lewis, CTU President, who boldly and eloquently talks racial truths to power. 

             The drive to de-professionalize teaching is global and in the US it is probably being felt most acutely by experienced teachers of color, mostly women – teaching is still women’s work. In schools that have little or no union presence, administrators have an easy time picking off the teachers they don’t like, and in a society poisoned by racism, administrators often see older African American teachers as deficient.  While all older teachers are vulnerable because they are more expensive to pay than "newibies," minority teachers are especially vulnerable because administrators often harbor subtle and not so subtle racist attitudes. Even administrators who see themselves as in favor of social justice may not value the cultural knowledge and personal ties to parents and community minority teachers bring to their classrooms and schools.

             The loss of seniority and job protections are experienced disproportionately by career teachers of color especially, whose numbers are diminishing rapidly.  Naming this situation as a product of systemic racism in the schools and society is a union issue, one that is key to building a social movement that has support of minority communities.

    Is there a subject you want me to tackle? Let me know. You can follow me on twitter and Facebook, as well as my blog every Wednesday here at New Politics.  Or write me at drweinerlo@gmail.com.

  • More on Marot's "October Revolution"

    This is in response to an earlier comment on Dan La Botz’s review of Jean Marot’s The October Revolution in Prospect and Retrospect. I agree that the review is excellent, though I’d say in response to Gasper that the book is more than merely “interesting”. Loren Goldner got it right: “this is a very important book, one of the very few books published since 1991 on the ‘Russian Question’ that will compel people (this reviewer included) to think through their commitments” [my emphasis]. So, on point two of the comment, “that Cliff doesn’t take his analysis far enough” even though central to Cliff’s anatomy of the USSR as “state capitalist” is his analysis of the bureaucracy as “’a social force with its own interests”, and at the risk of repeating what the review noted, I’ll offer a few comments in support of Marot’s contention.

    La Botz notes that Marot makes “a powerful refutation of what is worst in Trotsky”, while he “believes that Cliff doesn’t take his analysis far enough.” The former is the key to the latter. Marot critiques Cliff for “failing to look reality in the face” by “adequately registering the enormity of [the] appalling, stomach-churning fact” that in having to choose between the revolutionary self-activity of the Russian working class or the nascent bureaucracy in 1928-29, Trotsky and the Left Opposition instead threw their weight behind Stalin’s politically anti-democratic and economically exploitative policies, policies which Trotsky failed to see were in fact not laying the material foundations for socialism at all, but on the contrary were instead laying the groundwork for a bureaucratic class antagonistic both to the peasantry and the working class. Moreover, Trotsky, by sowing the seeds for working-class defeat in Russia, contributed to worldwide working-class defeat in1933-38 and beyond. The phrase, “Trotsky was wrong” occurs too many times to count in The October Revolution in Prospect and Retrospect. And why, according to Marot, does Cliff tergiversate? Because Trotsky “did not appear to workers to be that redoubtable fighter against bureaucratic repression that Cliff, despite Trotsky’s equivocation, would like socialist militants to believe that he ‘objectively’ always was.”

    Marot’s analysis begins with Marx – along with Second International Marxists, including the Bolsheviks – being right. Socialism requires material prerequisites created by a mode of production other than socialism, which Russia clearly lacked. Nevertheless, although socialism could not be built in Russia, the Bolsheviks were right in October 1917, which is why they won the backing of the working class. However, in the absence of a revolutionary breakthrough during the biennio rosso, they had no choice but to opt for the NEP and a democratic alliance between working class and peasantry (Marot has little to say about the lack of democracy in the Soviet Republic by 1921, e.g. the suppression of Kronstadt, factions within the party, competing socialist parties, freedom of expression and so on). But the Bolsheviks were wrong – Lenin and all factions after his death, “Left”, “Center” and “Right” – in their assessment of the peasantry, a class which, in its self-movement would never produce class differentiation, primitive capital accumulation, in a word, capitalist development, a development which both Bukharinist “right” and Trotskyist “left” believed could be gradually, democratically harnessed to socialist construction. It was simply objectively impossible to both develop the forces of production while meeting the democratic aspirations of the vast peasant majority. They could only be preserved by indefinitely postponing economic development. But when the NEP hit a brick wall of under-production by 1927-28, it is at the succeeding critical juncture of 1929-1933 that Trotsky’s failings, according to Marot, were nothing short of egregious.

    “Without correct theory, there cannot be correct politics.” Trotsky’s theory was wrong, his politics, disastrous. It is here that Cliff fails to go far enough. Stalin’s murderous “solution” to the crisis of 1929 would indeed develop the economy through what Marot calls a “second serfdom” but at the bloody expense of the Soviet republic. And, while Trotsky, in accord with his objectivist and juridical definition of socialism as state ownership of the means of production, proclaimed, “with Stalin against Bukharin,” it was in fact Bukharin who was “head and shoulders above Trotsky” in understanding that the only alternative to Stalin, whom he realized would destroy Bolshevik aspirations, was a preservation of the smychka (the working class – peasant alliance). But both the Left and Right Oppositions failed equally in refusing to countenance the abolition of the CP’s monopoly of political power by uniting in embracing the mounting worker and peasant resistance to the impending Stalinist “enserfment”. Marot insists that only by the raising of workers’ and peasants’ awareness through struggle against Stalin’s anti-peasant, anti-worker CP could counter-revolution have been forestalled.

    Cliff, according to Marot, is correct both in recognizing that the Left Opposition believed that Stalin’s policies of rapid industrialization and collectivization were socialist ones, to which there was no alternative, and in emphasizing that Trotsky failed to understand the character of the bureaucracy as a ruling class. But here is where Cliff becomes impaled on the horns of a dilemma, for how could the Left Opposition both defend Stalin’s USSR as a workers’ state, laying the material foundations for socialism, while simultaneously standing in opposition to the rising Stalinist bureaucracy? Cliff attempts to square the circle by claiming that the Left Opposition capitulated, while Trotsky maintained his opposition. But Marot says he’s wrong. They differed over tactics, over how best to compel Stalin to continue his “turn to the left”, not strategy. Both the capitulators and Trotsky continued to support the CP’s monopoly on political power as the agency of socialist construction, abandoning in the process any attempt to mobilize the working class.

    But the nub of the issue is not so much Trotsky’s incorrect analysis of the bureaucracy and the peasantry but of the working class itself. Thus, Marot quotes Cliff’s cogent summary of Trotsky’s 1924 The New Course, “’On the one hand the party was strangled by bureaucracy, but on the other Trotsky was unwilling to call on social forces outside the party to combat the bureaucracy.” So, while Cliff does say that Trotsky’s sociological analysis of the Stalinist “Center” was wrongheaded in failing to see the bureaucracy as an incipient ruling class, he does not go far enough in recognizing that this was part and parcel of Trotsky’s substitutionist politics. In fact, by 1929, this substitutionist, top-down thinking had become endemic among all members of the Left Opposition, Trotsky included. Trotsky, as early as 1921, had come to believe that the political dictatorship of the CP, not the democratic self-organization of the working class, would begin the construction of socialism. Moreover, even when Trotsky did finally draw the conclusion that the Stalinist bureaucracy was not “centrist” and could not be moved “left”, he retained his flawed sociological analysis of the USSR as a workers’ state (state ownership of the means of production somehow = socialism). Trotsky, according to Marot, juxtaposed “the actually-existing working class with its vital, every day, material interests” with the imputed “general historical interests of the working class, ostensibly embodied in the party-state.”

    Marot goes further in suggesting that Cliff shares in Trotsky’s underestimation of the revolutionary potential of the Russian working class. When Stalin’s ruthless embarkation of industrialization and collectivization cut the ground from under the Left Opposition’s feet, Cliff is correct in asserting that “Stalin’s stunning, practical refutation of Trotsky’s sociology politically devastated Trotsky’s followers.” Members of the Opposition would all eventually surrender, not out of fear, but out of conviction. Stalin, after all, was carrying out their program. But the critical issue for Trotsky, the Left Opposition and Cliff himself is what was their attitude “toward those workers and peasants who did unequivocally resist Stalin’s murderously exploitative policies of industrialization and collectivization? Could the leadership of the Left Opposition have unreservedly supported their fight against Stalin and his policies?” Marot maintains that Cliff – for instance in his analysis of the public appearance of the United Opposition at the Red Square Parade of November 1927 – claims that the Russian working class lacked the will to fight for the Opposition. But Cliff has it backwards. The Opposition, habituated to its substitutionism, lacked the will to fight for the working class, a working class which Trotsky occasionally characterized as atomized and culturally backward. The Decists were right; Cliff, Trotsky and the Left Opposition, wrong.

    Finally, while Marot recognizes Trotsky’s brilliance in analyzing fascism and in critiquing the Stalinist Comintern’s disastrous “third period” and subsequent Pop Front policies in Spain and France, Trotsky’s sectarianism on “the accursed Russian Question” prevented him from calling for an alliance with Brandler, who, while siding with Stalin on internal Russian affairs and myopic on international ones, was in agreement with Trotsky in calling for a KPD/SPD united front in Germany. And, while Trotsky and the Left Opposition stressed that socialism could only be fully realized on an international scale, their failure to bring Bolshevik politics to bear against Stalinism in good time helped objectively not only to ensure the victory of the anti-worker bureaucracy in the USSR but the defeat of the working class elsewhere as well. Had the Left and Right Oppositions joined in allying with the Russian working class and peasantry to topple the Stalinist bureaucracy in the late ‘20s, thereby preserving the smychka and the Soviet Republic, while they would have been unable to develop the forces of production and embark on the road to socialism, perhaps they could have renewed the momentum of 1917’s (permanent) revolution.

  • The Chicago Women’s Liberation Rock Band 1970-1973

    [Introduction by Naomi Weisstein: My paper, “The Chicago

    Women’s Liberation Rock Band 1970-1973: A Slapstick Demolition of Male Supremacy” was presented at the end of March at the Boston University Conference “A Revolutionary Moment: Women’s Liberation in the Late 1960s and early 1970s.” This landmark conference drew a multiplicity of papers, rigorously retrieving a suppressed history, and countering such contemporary notions as that “leaning in” is what the radical women’s liberation movement was, and is, about.

    Since I am ill and bedridden, my paper was presented in absentia by my long-time friend, Heather Booth, who, like me, traces her feminist history to the Chicago West Side Group (1967-1969) and the Chicago Women’s Liberation Union (1970-1979). The version of my paper below was cut for delivery (in a session on “Women’s Liberation in Action: Theory, Practice and Organization”) from a fuller version that I will be seeking to publish shortly.]

    In Chicagoland in 1970, almost every teenage girl listened to rock. They considered it THEIR music – hormonal, quasi-outlaw, with screaming guitars and a heavy, driving beat. But it was sooo misogynist. This wasn’t the Beatles’ playful, woman-affectionate songs. These were vicious boy bands: the guitarists stood with their legs spread wide, pretending to fuck their guitars, while they sang about how stupid girls were, and how they were good for nothing but sex. Often, rape.

    All our lives, we girls had been taught that male abuse was sexy. But this stuff was a cultural carpet-bombing of girls, based on the amplified idea that brutal = sexy wow! shiver!

    How could a feminist combat this? As a beginning jazz pianist and stand-up comic, and an ardent member of the Chicago Women’s Liberation Union (CWLU), I decided to form a women’s liberation rock band, that’s how. It would have us singing about how smart, strong, and hip we were, and how we would have sex only on our own terms, thank you. And we would get so good that soon we would saturate the airwaves, inundating teenage girls with a new kind of musical culture – joyful, playful, funny, and taking no shit from no one. Sort of like the much later Pussy Riot.

    On International Women’s Day in March 1970, we played our first gig, in the bandshell at Chicago’s Grant Park. It was a disaster.

    We regrouped and retooled. I insisted that we add boffo comedy, along with setting music to our serious feminist poems.

    We did our second gig, at the New Left coffee house, “Alice’s Restaurant.” The audience exploded with joy. They clapped and shouted. They picked up the words to some of our choruses, and sang and danced to the music. After we finished, they mobbed the stage, hugging us and crying.

    In the following three years, we made tours of the northeast and as far west as Colorado, playing to ecstatic audiences. For example, at a “Y” camp in Michigan for inner-city pre-teen girls, they repeated the lyrics to Amy Kesselman’s “VD Blues” and, singing and bopping, they made us play it three times over before they let us move on. At Cornell, where we played with our sister New Haven band, women stripped to the waist, held hands, and danced in a huge circle, even though they had heard that a fraternity had threatened to destroy the event. New Haven’s vocalist, sang out, “Put your shirts on, sisters. We’re in grave danger.” “No!” they shouted back, “We won’t! We’re FREE.” This happened again and again, in different forms, in the three years that we performed.

    However, there were a few catastrophes. The most comical of these was at the Second Annual Third World Drag Queen Ball. Out of the blue, a male voice, identifying himself as “Ortiz, Third World Revolutionary,” phoned me to invite the Chicago Women’s Liberation Rock Band (CWLRB) to perform. ”Of course we will,” I said, thrilled. We got to the ball on the far South Side of Chicago, and swiftly realized that we were going to be out-bezazzed. Tall, gorgeous black men in glittering red ball gowns and Diana Ross wigs were lip-synching to her recordings, which were being played at top volume. When we took the stage, with our politically correct scruffiness (see the jacket photo on our CD “Papa Don’t Lay that Shit on Me,” from Rounder Records) and feeble amplification, we resembled supplicants at a Salvation Army catfish breakfast for the homeless. We played two songs and then quit. Nobody was listening. They had no idea of why we were there. A disappointed Ortiz and his partner, wearing identical one-piece pink wool bathing suits, clapped politely. We fled the stage.

    We thrived as a chapter under the CWLU tent. While we toured, we also played all over Chicago whenever we were needed by CWLU, at conferences, dances, and Chicago street demonstrations. We stayed and played.

    Recently, I saw for the first time an old photo of the band playing outside the Chicago Civic Center, in the Loop next to the Picasso sculpture. I noticed a row of CWLU women standing in back of us, some with their arms crossed, like Elijah Muhammed’s “Fruit of Islam” bodyguards. What were they doing there? Answer: they were acting as our bodyguards because it was an unruly crowd. I teared up. They were protecting the band, although we never asked them to, and we were performing because they needed us to add festive vibes to their demo: Solidarity and sisterhood! A revolutionary moment!

     

    Naomi Weisstein is Professor Emerita, Department of Psychology/Neuroscience, State Univ. of NY at Buffalo.

    For more on the CWLRB, see:

    CWLRB’s CD, with New Haven Women’s Liberation Rock Band, “Papa Don’t Lay that Shit on Me” (2005) from Rounder Records.

    Noami Weisstein, “Days of Celebration and Resistance: The Chicago Women’s Liberation Rock Band, 1970-1973,” in DuPlessis, Rachel Blau, and Ann Snitow, eds., Feminist Memoir Project: Voices from Women's Liberation (New York: Three Rivers Press, 1998).

    Hillary Reser, "'One By One You're Gonna Know Our Power': The Chicago Women's Liberation Rock Band and the Politics of Cultural Transformation," (2004).

     

  • The Debate Today is How to Stop The Violent Offensive of the Neoliberal Right-Wing

    Venezuela is torn between the destabilising attempts of the right-wing, the limits of the Bolivarian process and the possibility the working class and the popular movements will advance the [revolutionary] project, [but] not without tensions and contradictions.

    [The following is] an interview with Franck Gaudichaud, member of the editorial team of Rebelión.org, a doctor of political science and author of several books on Latin America, with a directed research by Michael Löwy on people power and industrial ties under the Allende government in Chile (1970 -1973).

    How can you characterise the current situation in Venezuela? What is the issue here?

    Franck Gaudichaud: As a starting point, we must recognise that we are in the midst of a tremendous global media war against the Bolivarian process. It's therefore essential to create spaces of counter-information. To start with, in front of so much misinformation, we must again emphasise that the Bolivarian process is a long term process of broad social gains (health, education, reducing inequality), democratisation (the new constitution), growing empowerment and inclusion of the popular classes, in a very tense relationship with the charismatic leader that [Hugo] Chavez had been.

    This process has also been instrumental in the establishment of new popular national sovereignties in the creation of ALBA, UNASUR and CELAC. Thus, a relapse and a neoliberal regression in Venezuela would have important, immediate collateral effects on the entire region. All this seems obvious, but it is essential to stress the essential relations and geopolitical forces, [particularly] at a time when the mainstream media, and the Venezuelan opposition are talking about a “Castro-communist dictatorship” and a “genocide in Venezuela …”

    The current situation is extremely tense because the most reactionary sectors of the opposition have wagered on violence and destabilisation from the street. In this context, there is a tendency within the rank and file of the leftists to simplify our understanding of the circumstances, expressing opposition to imperialism or support of the coup against the “fascist” state. To me, this binary reading [of the situation] seems disastrous. Of course, the united manner of the right-wing's “insurrectionist” intentions must be denounced and opposed. 

    We know that the United States has clear geopolitical interests in this destabilisation. The link between Washington “hawks” and the faction of the opposition led by Leopoldo López in Venezuela isn't a conspiracy theory, but is an objective fact. There is also a real intervention from Colombia and Uribismo,  and paramilitary incursions, especially in the border state of Táchira. These factors are important. Now, is there a coup in the style of April, 2002? […] I think not. Firstly, the real power relations differ from 2002. The armed forces and military chiefs clearly support the government without division – for now – and the big bourgeoisie aren't betting on the violence or an unconstitutional exit [from the Maduro administration]. Fedecámaras and its masters (like Polar's [head, Lorenzo] Mendoza) are participating in the peace conference with Maduro and condemning the violence in the streets. In other words, the key elements of the situation of April, 2002 aren't part of the current situation today. Mind you, there is a sector of the opposition around Leopoldo López that clearly is betting on street violence [and] calling to overthrow Maduro. Worryingly, this sector has succeeded in holding very significant demonstrations – in the state of Tachira, in Merida with the student movement, but also in the streets of Caracas.

    It's true that the participants of these demonstrations essentially come from the wealthy neighbourhoods, from the upper and middle classes; but now [protesters] also come from the less wealthy middle class. Violent sectors have gained space in society, using violence against the workers and barrio militants, constructing barricades (the “guarimbas”); they're responsible for the majority of killings in recent weeks. The neoliberal opposition is partially fragmented, but each [faction of the opposition] plays its role against the [revolutionary] process; from Henrique Capriles or COPEI (Political Electoral Independent Organisation Committee) that say they back dialogue after successive electoral defeats, to parties like Leopoldo López's Voluntad Popular or like the organisation Súmate and the legislator María Corina Machado. [The latter] back the creation of a semi-insurrectionalist climate without awaiting the next elections. Other analysts like Ignacio Ramonet have noted the existence of a “slow coup” based on the destabilisation theories of Gene Sharp. 

    However, I think from the anti-capitalist left, the key issue isn't just to denounce all this, without also continuing to think “downwards and to the left” in a manner both critical and dialectical; [and] who are the elements within Chavismo that allow such expression of discontent in various strata of society – not just from the student movement. In this sense, we also have to explore the contradictions and weaknesses of the Bolivarian revolution and listen to the critical voices of the popular and revolutionary movement, within and outside of Chavismo. At Rebelión, we have published various Venezuelan authors that go in this direction: Roland Denis, Simón Rodríguez P., Javier Biardeau, Gonzalo Gómez, etc.

    What are these main weaknesses of Chavismo?

    First you have to differentiate between the governmental Chavismo and the working Bolivarian people. I understand there are tensions here, especially a year after the departure of the central manager of the [revolutionary] process, Hugo Chavez; [who was] capable of oscillating between the vertical leader and the horizontal-ness of popular participation. In the era of “Chavismo wihout Chavez”, Maduro has the legitimacy of electoral democracy. He won the [April, 2013] presidential election in a just manner, and the [December, 2013] municipal elections confirmed a new Bolivarian victory at the ballot box (with 17 victories in 18 elections). But, Maduro doesn't have the charismatic leadership of Chavez, while at the same time a degradation of the economy accelerated. Of course, much is said about insecurity, particularly from the right-wing, though this is also a significant, daily concern for the popular classes. [However,] most of the recent problems appear on the economic level. The Central Bank of Venezuela [BCV] acknowledges a scarcity level of [consumer] goods above 28% and in 2013 inflation of 56% eroded the salaries of the workers. Poor economic and [currency] exchange management reinforces speculation, the black market and hoarding on the part of the bourgeois consumer on a greater scale. Other Marxist economists like Manuel Sutherland or Víctor Álvarez speak of the greatest capital flight from South America. Several Marshall Plans are escaping to Miami.

    It's true that inflation and scarcity are products of an offensive from the ruling classes, but they're also [caused by] inefficient economic policy. Corruption is another underlying issue after 15 years of the Bolivarian process. How to pretend to build “socialism of the 21st Century” in these conditions of bureaucratic corruption? Faced with a phenomenon of this nature, a model of petro-rentier capitalism is still hegemonic [i]. It's not enough to have a ministry of “popular power”* [see editor's notes]. I don't see a solution other than to create control from below, [with] participatory democracy, workers' councils [and a] strengthening of the existing communal councils. Otherwise, how is the right-wing offensive to be lastingly stopped? With dialogue and peace with the ruling sectors, with the Democratic Unity Roundtable [MUD], with [Venezuelan-born media mogul and billionaire Gustavo] Cisneros and the boli-bourgeoisie**? Moreover, remember impunity that continues today for those responsible for the coup of April, 2002 and the April, 2013 killings. The impunity facing the anti-unionist killings that take place in the country are also very concerning, along with the the level of repression against some labour strikes and the growing militarisation of some regions (which caused distress and the distancing of the public from the Bolivarian governor of Tachira). These days, President Maduro and the Attorney General have acknowledged the responsibility of the National Guard and the Bolivarian Police in the death and mistreatment of demonstrators. Hopefully this doesn't go unpunished, because the state has to be the guarantor of basic [human] rights.

    Here you have referred critically to the path being taken by the government to stop the right-wing's offensive. For you, what is the most effective way to confront the right-wing?

    Without doubt, as proposed by some Venezuelan anti-capitalists, the best defense for the deepening of the revolution and the achievements of the [revolutionary] process is to strengthen a critical, popular and independent view of the bureaucracy or the boli-bourgeoisie, pointing to an empowerment from below. I think this perfectly justifies the intent of the government to pour cold water on the street violence, [and] call for dialogue and peace. Now, dialogue and peace, yes, but for what and with whom? Hopefully, the dialogue prioritises the mobilisation of the popular sectors, the organised workers that search for the paths of popular power, the … [rural poor and agricultural workers] that want agricultural reform, the indigenous people, together with more concrete announcements to improve the economic situation. Of course, Maduro has already announced a front to face the “economic war”, but as well as the “law of just prices”, positively, were measures to adjust [economic policy] and devaluation. To the contrary, small [political] currents like Marea Socialista and others outside Chavismo (libertarians, Marxists [and] Trotskyists) propose dealing with the neoliberal right by taking revolutionary measures: for example, taking control of foreign trade, but with citizen oversight (to prevent corruption), strongly combating speculation and centralising foreign currency exchange, intervening to bring the banking system under social control so that oil revenue isn't partially captured by hoarders, supporting more decisions by the communal councils, [supporting] national food production, [creating] a national, democratic system of planning etc. I emphasise, I'm only reiterating the declarations of Bolivarian collectives and anti-capitalist Venezuelans.

    Certainly, progress in this direction also means starting to think about the internal contradictions the popular movement – its weaknesses and limitations, as well as the weight of the political bonapartism present in the PSUV, for example.

    What similarities and differences do you find between the process of Chile during the Allende government and that of Venezuela? More than anything, the role of the relationship between the spaces of popular organisation and a state that – despite all the changes – remains a capitalist state.

    First, this seems essential to me: there still exists a capitalist state in Venezuela, though with a new institutionalism that's more democratic. Predominantly, [there is] state-rentier capitalism and more than 70% of GDP is in the private sector. To strategically orient [ourselves], first we must know where we stand. Like in Venezuela, in 1973 Chile the Unidad Popular signified great democratic and social conquests, empowerment from below, as well as support from a very well organised working class on the union and political level. Actually, the big deficiency in Venezuela is the inability to build a democratic movement that is working and union class-conscious, independent of the state bureaucracy. Another interesting aspect of the Chilean experience is the tense relationship between the popular movement and the Allende government. I studied the industrial ties [ii] as sui generis [unique] forms of popular power, and, at various moments, elements were able to stand against Allende and claim revolutionary measures. Another point of debate is just how much we can trust the institutions, the possibility of  “using” the state to reform society from above. That is, if we build socialism from the state or build socialism from the popular constituent power, workers' control and citizen participation. When in Venezuela, for example, joint management initiatives [between the state and workers] such as Sidor have been rapidly suffocated. It's the same with the extremely complicated issue of political violence, the role of imperialism and the armed forces. 

    The fact is that in Venezuela, unlike the Chilean way, the process has been thought as “peaceful, but armed”. In Venezuela there is a very different civil-military dynamic [compared] to the Chilean experience. Beyond that, the Bolivarian revolution updates an unresolved debate of Unidad Popular: what can we do with the state, and what kind of state? To what extent are the government [and] elections tools of democratic conquest, and how to support this using grassroots organising to advance. How to deal with the rightists and imperialism from the best relationship that's as strong as possible?

    This article is reprinted from Rebelión

    Valeria Ianni is an Argentinian historian, and member of the collective “Hombre Nuevo”. 
    Translated for Venezuelanalysis by Ryan Mallett-Outtrim.

    Editor's notes
    *All Venezuela government ministries include the words “Popular Power” in their official titles; eg, Ministry of Popular Power for Education.
    ** Boli-bourgeoisie (boliburguesía) is a colloquial term mostly used to describe wealthy, corrupt Chavista bureaucrats. 

    References (in Spanish)
    [i] Ver: F. Gaudichaud, “Las tensiones del proceso bolivariano: nacionalismo popular, conquistas sociales y capitalismo rentista”, Rebelión, dic. 2012,www.rebelion.org/noticia.php?id=160554.

    [ii] Ver: F. Gaudichaud, Poder popular y cordones industriales en Chile, Santiago, LOM, 2004.

  • Two important precedents in building social movement teachers unions

                One week, two precedents.

    A group of determined Colorado teachers and education activists met last weekend under the umbrella of the United Opt Out (of testing) organization and wrestled with how to build the growing social movement opposed to standardized testing and what is often called “corporate school reform.” I was privileged to meet with people who are committed to transforming teachers unions.  We clarified terminology about how the caucus system in the NEA is one of official committees, endorsed by the organization, whereas a reform “caucus” in most labor unions is a group wholly independent of the official union.

                  One strategic issue we grappled with was how best to maximize their resources, given that they have a foothold in Douglas County (with an AFT local), Denver’s Classroom Teachers Association (an NEA affiliate), and activists in suburban locals elsewhere in Colorado (NEA).  One possibility is to form a state-wide caucus with local branches in both  AFT and NEA locals.  This Colorado caucus will be cutting edge nationally, unifying  (AFT/NEA) activists at the state level. One aspect of this development that is useful for us to recognize is the leapfrogging it represents. People are not just trying to duplicate what CORE and the Chicago Teachers Union (CTU) have accomplished. They're applying what CTU has done but shaping strategy to their local conditions.  As I've written before, there's no single blueprint or handbook that can direct teachers in transforming their local unions. For sure, CTU has much to teach activists. At the same time, the CTU will be learning from – and supported by – movements elsewhere.  Colorado's experience is relevant to Chicago because the CTU is constrained in pushing its agenda state-wide because the Illinois AFT and NEA do business as usual. Colorado may help us all figure out the nuts and bolts of creating a state-wide AFT/NEA organization that can help activists throughout a state push a common agenda in their unions. Though their numbers are not (yet) large, this smart, determined band of activists is doing great work that's going to help us nationally, maybe internationally too.  I left Denver with a (political) Rocky Mountain high.

                  The other precedent came with the AFT finally publishing a dissenting point of view, in the form of a letter, in the American Educator, the magazine members’ dues support. In late 2012 AFT published  an article slamming the work of historian Howard Zinn and refused to print a rejoinder, in any form.  (Do take a few minutes to read the Zinn Project’s description of the imbroglio and critiques of the AFT article here.)  After some lively exchanges on twitter, which I admit to having suggested, whoever decides editorial policy for the AFT magazine – clearly not the editor – decided to allow a letter about Zinn’s work. The Zinn Project was limited to 150 words and those who supported the original article treble that. Curiously, the AFT mag printed one letter defending the original bashing of Zinn's work signed “Anonymous.”  A teacher who needed anonymity could self-identify in a general way, like “History teacher in Ohio,”  so I’ll wager “Anonymous” is an AFT staffer politically hostile to Left historians, a powerful figure who navigated publication of the article.                 Having a diversity of members’ voices expressed in union publications should be assumed, but it’s not so we have to fight for it.  Our next battle: Who decides that an article bashing Howard Zinn is published, rather than a symposium on teaching US history with different viewpoints? Or a piece by the Zinn Project explaining its work? But for now let’s relish this precedent and victory.

                  When activists first start their work, they frequently see only those in the room with them and are discouraged.  Much is happening under the radar of the corporate media. Be assured you are joined by thousands, tens of thousands of teachers, throughout the world.  Understanding that resistance is global helps us keep our eyes on the prize.

                  As always, you can contact me at drweinerlo@gmail.com and follow me on twitter and Facebook, as well as this blog every Wednesday.

     

  • Reply to Davenport on Climate Change

    In a posting on March 4, 2014 Nicholas Davenport criticizes me for “a misunderstanding of activists’ arguments against carbon trading and, more fundamentally, a lack of attention to the dynamic of reform and revolution.”

    Regarding Reform and Revolution: I will not bother to defend myself on this subject here at any length. I have been thinking about, writing about, and practicing the art of working for system reform and system change simultaneously for more than forty years. At this point in my life I have come to the conclusion that once a person comes to the conclusion that system change is necessary to fully solve problems they often become schizophrenic and lose their common sense about why people fight for reforms.

    As much as leftists may try to convince those whom reforms will benefit that they truly do want a reform to work, many leftists are actually pleased when reforms do not work — because that proves them right, system change is necessary! What this attitude fails to account for is that the vast majority of the population does not support system change except in revolutionary moments. Moreover, the only way a majority will come to the conclusion that we in the leftist minority have already arrived at, is to work hard for reforms within the system and discover for themselves that they are still dissatisfied with the results. Some will become dissatisfied when they discover a reform they win only partially solves a problem. Some will become dissatisfied when they discover that the reform is at risk of being rolled back as long as the system is left in place. And some will become dissatisfied because the process of fighting alongside others for democracy, justice, or sustainability will expand their vision of what is possible and render them incapable of settling for anything less than a system that serves, rather than obstructs these goals. And that, my erudite leftist comrades, is all there is to the not-so-complicated “dynamic of reform and revolution”!

    Regarding Carbon Trading: Davenport misunderstands my criticism of activists’ rejection of carbon trading. I have never defended the European Emissions Trading System (ETS) nor the American Clean Energy and Security Act (ACES) – both of which were riddled with counterproductive features industry lobbyists bribed and bullied weak-willed politicians to include. Nor have I ever criticized sound criticisms of the ETS and ACES – the best of which come from professional critics unencumbered by leftist mythology about what carbon trading does or does not do.

    What I have criticized are leftists who reject carbon trading in any context or form; leftists who, even after a cap on global emissions is set low enough to prevent climate change, and even after remaining global emissions are distributed fairly among all countries, would still refuse to support emission trading; leftists whose criticisms of carbon trading in this context don’t hold water, but are in fact incompetent and “ill-informed.”

    In any case, Davenport acknowledges all I require when he writes: “Hahnel is no doubt aware of the inadequacies of these cap-and-trade proposals.” [Yes, I am.]  And: “His proposal does not share these problems—rather, it’s based on social justice and climate science.” [In which case I think Davenport should agree with me, instead of continuing to quibble.]

    A Fair Shares Climate Campaign: When those who want system change – people who call themselves radicals or revolutionaries — and those who want to reform the system – people who realize the system needs reforming, but are opposed to or agnostic about the necessity or wisdom of system change — play nicely together, both do far better than when we bicker. It is long past time to put aside squabbling over what are at this point mostly non-existent carbon trading programs and unite on a campaign all can support.

    The glimmer of hope that emerged from an otherwise discouraging spectacle at the COP 19 meetings in Warsaw was that countries voted to announce publicly by the end of the first quarter of 2015 the level of emissions they individually pledge to commit to achieve by 2020. This gives us a golden opportunity to mount an international Fair Shares Climate Campaign pointing out how much each country should pledge to reduce emissions, so delegates can agree to a treaty that makes fair reductions mandatory at the COP 21 meetings in Paris in December 2015.

    A civil society Fair Shares Climate Campaign can provide strong public support for governments making reasonable pledges and put intense international pressure on governments whose pledges are palpably unfair to increase their pledges. In short, it can provide a new focus uniting all groups in civil society who continue to put time and energy into trying to pressure international negotiations at annual COP meetings to approve an effective treaty that is fair before it is too late.

    What level of global emissions must be achieved by 2020 to avoid an unacceptable risk of cataclysmic climate change? Three widely discussed global pathways – a strong 2 degrees Celsius, a weak 2 degree Celsius, and a G8 pathway – nicely span the range of global emission reductions under discussion. What is a fair distribution among countries of 2020 global emissions? There is now a body of working knowledge that allows us to make a compelling case for what a fair distribution of any global reduction among countries looks like. The Greenhouse Development Rights “Equity Reference Framework” provides one compelling way to quantify the criteria that were unanimously agreed to by delegates at the initial “Earth Summit” in Rio de Janeiro in 1992, and have been re-affirmed at every COP since, as what must be considered when addressing fairness – historic “responsibility” for having created the problem, and current “capability” of contributing to its solution. The EcoEquity calculator, available to anyone at www.ecoequity.org, allows users to select key parameters and calculate immediately the fair emission pathways they imply for any country, or group of countries. Fortunately, most choices for parameters do not generate widely different estimates of fair emission pathways for most countries. In other words, just as we have a broad consensus among climate scientists regarding different global emission pathways, we now have a broad consensus among climate equity experts on what a fair distribution of responsibilities for reducing emissions among countries looks like. This means it is now possible for civil society organizations to explore and identify a range of emission pathways for each country that are fair.

    There is growing support for a Fair Shares Climate Campaign from major players like Oxfam, the World Wildlife Fund International, and Friends of the Earth International, from broad coalitions such as the Climate Action Network International, from faith-based organizations such as Christian Aid and the APRODEV network, and from many organizations in Third World Network circles. A Fair Share Campaign facilitates the broadest possible alliance and can appeal to organizations who may disagree about other issues and tactics. Membership in the coalition would be contingent only on support for fair pledges and condemnation of pledges that are demonstrably unfair.

    So where is the disagreement? Davenport writes: “To his credit, Hahnel does not water down his proposal in order to make it palatable to the capitalist class and the politicians that serve them.  He insists that a global cap-and-trade scheme would have mandatory emissions caps for all countries based on science, differential emissions caps based on principles of global justice, and enforcement mechanisms to prevent cheating and bogus carbon credits.  It’s a principled proposal.” So what is Davenport’s criticism? He writes: “The problem is that, in order to keep it principled, [Hahnel] must put so many conditions on cap-and-trade that it might as well be a revolutionary demand.” While this is good sound bite, it actually makes no sense.

    My program is one that an overwhelming majority of people on the planet, including a large minority in the US, could be won to support over the next year and a half. Unfortunately that cannot be said for an ecosocialist revolution – as leaders of organizations like Oxfam, World Wildlife Fund International, Friends of the Earth International, the Climate Action Network International, and Christian Aid understand about their constituencies, even if the far left does not. Between now and the COP 21 meetings in Paris at the end of 2015 a united global climate justice movement could win majority support for the Fair Shares Climate Campaign program. And that is who we are addressing – the majority of people on the planet. We are not addressing the ruling elites who respond only to power, not persuasion, as Davenport would be the first to confirm.

    What would we discover if we polled a thousand random people in the US and asked them to answer two questions? (1) Do you support mandatory emission reductions for all countries that are effective and fair? (2) Do you support an ecosocialist revolution?  As much as Davenport – or I! — might wish that as many would answer “yes” to the second question as to the first, I do not think that is what a poll would reveal.

    Disclaimer: A Fair Shares Climate Campaign is not intended to be a substitute for other campaigns currently being waged. In the US it is not a substitute for campaigns to stop the XL pipeline, the campaign to stop coal trains from Wyoming and Montana across Idaho, Washington, and Oregon, campaigns to stop fracking in the East and Midwest, campaigns for a domestic Green New Deal, and efforts to forge a more productive “blue-green alliance” between environmental and labor organizations. Nor does support for a Fair Shares Climate Campaign prevent ecosocialists from preaching against the evils of capitalism and the virtues of ecosocialism — to change the outcome of popular polls gaging support for system change in the future. This campaign would simply be a way to unite climate activists around the world now in a campaign that directly addresses international negotiations. It gives activists in every country a way to demonstrate to their fellow citizens whether their government is, or is not, making a fair share pledge leading up to COP 21 in Paris, and ties them to similar groups working in every other country. Any leftist who has stood up against imperialism in the past should have no trouble standing up for a solution to climate change that is fair, and not at the expense of the usual global victims.

  • Adolph Reed's premature burial of the U.S. Left

    Back in the day, (a cliché, I know) Adolph Reed wrote a waspish piece in the Village Voice, “Liberals, I Do Despise,” which made something of a splash and was hard to refute — this when the Voice was widely read, not a freebie and well-worth paying for — as he attacked a coterie of Clintonistas for “a politics motivated by the desire for proximity to the ruling class and a belief in the basic legitimacy of its power and prerogative.” He called it “a politics which, despite all its idealist puffery and feigned nobility, will sell out any allies or egalitarian objectives in pursuit of gaining the Prince's ear.”

    Jump ahead 18 years and Reed is still banging on the same tin drum. Only now he targets the entire left.

    In a lead article in the March 2014 Harpers, which still charges  and where Reed’s polemic “Nothing Left: The Long, Slow Surrender of American Liberals” is behind a pay wall, Reed slathers scorn broadly, damning as sycophantic anyone who isn’t Adolph Reed, complicit in a progressive movement that not only failed but failed because it lost its vision. He decries a debased liberalism that accepts not only capitalism but also the austerity tenets of neoliberal ideology and extreme self-limits on any sort of thoroughgoing reforms; its preferred sport is inside baseball. It’s not the hegemonic power of the American imperium at home that forecloses options, divides movements, and pauperizes a generation. For Reed it’s the left’s lack of imagination as it politicks for weak tea and plays fantasy baseball. His charge of no guts and no brains equaling no hope has been his leitmotif for a generation.

    If I sound contemptuous of his take, it’s not because he’s wrong. As description of the dominant trend in progressive politics it is sadly spot-on, though painted with a brush so broad it could cover a parade ground. Instead of a surgical strike, his is a random drive-by shooting. It’s his fatalistic view that the condition is both universal and virtually permanent that makes the piece not just dour but unhelpful.  

    Lenin is said to have called Western liberals “useful idiots.” He didn’t, but it’s a good talking point, and Reed might as well have used the phrase himself  when he calls the left that doesn’t ritually rag on Obama as useless.

    He’s not wrong. How many Charlie Brown moments do some people need?

    The arriviste coterie of Wall Street lords unveiled as Obama’s economic team less than 12 hours after the polls closed in 2008 should have been a fire alarm, and the fact that it wasn’t does speak to the blindness of many liberals and the gutlessness of some on the left who even as late as Occupy wouldn’t criticize President Obama, the austerity-enabler-in-chief, so as not to alienate leaders in the black community. That was pure paternalism in denigrating the capacity of black Americans, among this administration’s greatest victims, to understand how the new regime was failing them.

    Reed is not wrong in slamming the Obama mythos, where

    "Confusion and critical paralysis prompted by the racial imagery of Obama’s election prevented even sophisticated intellectuals like [Slavo] Žižek from concluding that Obama was only another Clintonite Democrat — no more, no less. It is how Obama could be sold, even within the left, as a hybrid of Martin Luther King Jr. and Neo from The Matrix…..  In this sense his election is most fundamentally an expression of the limits of the left in the United States — its decline, demoralization, and collapse."

    He’s not wrong to note that “The movement for racial justice has shifted its focus from inequality to ‘disparity,’ while neatly evading any critique of the structures that produce inequality.” 

    He’s also not wrong about a sizably subdued and housebroken labor leadership, though he gives no notice to what some do right or what insurgents in both the public and private sectors are building in the way of democratic and militant unionism. Even a nod to the militant Chicago Teachers Union and its battles with the city’s mayor and ex-Clinton legbreaker Rahm Emanuel would have given his rap needed perspective.

    He overstates in saying that “social activists have made their peace with neoliberalism and adjusted their horizons accordingly” and conflates foundation-funded organizations with rank-and-file movements. His writing that “dominant figures in the antiwar movement have long since accepted the framework of American military interventionism” is over the top; the names of alleged offenders would help.

    But when he cites Russell Jacoby’s astute observation in The End of Utopia, that “the left ineluctably retreats to smaller ideas, seeking to expand the options within the existing society,” he’s descriptively and devastatingly right about the contemporary liberal wing of the Democratic Party at least.

    John Conyer’s oft-introduced jobs bill –– never embraced by the party leadership even when Democrats held the House –– should be emblematic of a series of broadly supported legislative initiatives, not simply the one-shot product of a solitary valiant, aging war horse.

    So Reed’s description of a liberal malaise and barely consequential fights over fewer and smaller gains, no matter how acidly drawn or exaggerated he makes it, isn’t wrong. It’s the overkill that minimizes what actually occurs in a fight-back on the ground that makes Reed’s take overblown.

    Here it’s worth citing his conclusion, which is where the piece could take off, but instead sputters.

    "The crucial tasks for a committed left in the United States now are to admit that no politically effective force exists and to begin trying to create one. This is a long-term effort, and one that requires grounding in a vibrant labor movement. Labor may be weak or in decline, but that means aiding in its rebuilding is the most serious task for the American left. Pretending some other option exists is worse than useless. There are no magical interventions, shortcuts, or technical fixes. We need to reject the fantasy that some spark will ignite the People to move as a mass. We must create a constituency for a left program — and that cannot occur via MSNBC or blog posts or The New York Times. It requires painstaking organization and building relationships with people outside the Beltway and comfortable leftist groves….. The message could not be clearer."

    Actually, it could. It’s his lack of focus on any real social movements beyond lip service to a rebuilt labor fight-back or any recognition that waging class war in the heart of the American empire proceeds, however fitfully –– it’s in the nature of capital to accrete resistance ––  and will always be imperfect and tentative. Anyone arguing the truth that “a constituency for a left program needs building” or that the task requires, as it does, “painstaking organization and building relationships with people outside the Beltway and comfortable leftist groves” has to include what goes on now and incorporate a rigorous understanding of what didn’t work before, and why. Reed may know movement history, but it’s not evidenced here. Where’s the context? Where’s the painstaking analysis of what was and is? Did a movement Reed describes early in the piece as “dynamic” for nearly all of the last century because it was “grounded in the belief that unrestrained capitalism generated unacceptable social costs” fail because its beliefs evaporated? Or because in the face of capital regnant something trumps nothing?

    (Note: It also requires a bit of truth telling on Reed’s part. Our Jeremiah jumped from wanting in the 1990s to build a Labor Party that studiously avoided running its own candidates to embracing Hillary Clinton against Obama in the 2008 party primary. As they text on Twitter, WTF?)

    Reed’s notion of good program informing good practice is also tricky. Granted a different historical period, Rosa Luxemburg’s 1904 injunction against fetishizing organization and program is instructive. She wrote that “the mistakes that are made by a truly revolutionary workers’ movement are, historically speaking, immeasurably more fruitful and more valuable than the infallibility of the best possible ‘Central Committee’.” I would add that you can’t have “the best possible Central Committee” until that movement learns its lessons in practice.

    The truth is that corporate America will always hold the whip hand until that hand is broken. To coin a well-worn socialist phrase attributed to the old electoral socialist Victor Berger (who in radical circles is still written off unfairly as a hopeless reformist) “the only fight that matters winning is the last one.”  

     

    An interview with Reed shortly after his Harper's piece was posted appears as a podcast here.

    Michael Hirsch is a DSA member in New York City. He has worked as a steelworker, college professor, union staffer and labor writer. This article first appeared on the DSA website.

  • The local and global in capitalism's project: A snapshot today

                  ImageOne can’t know from old modes of media, now state or corporate-controlled in every country I know of, how extensive resistance is to the destruction of systems of public education created in the past century, through struggles of working people to improve their children’s lives.  (The best chronicle of these struggles is www.teachersolidarity.com. )  The struggles are local because that’s where education occurs, in one’s neighborhood and nation state.  Often the battles are initiated by young people, who are fighting for their future.  With increasing frequency teachers are spearheading campaigns, defying governments that do the bidding  of wealthy, powerful elites.  But when we put these local struggles together, we see that the resistance is global, as is this project of capitalism to alter who teaches, what is taught, and who dictates these matters.       

                  Today, March 26, 2014, teachers in Paraguay, Buenos Aires Argentina, and the UK (do watch the video explaining the NUT’s demands) are striking to defend the conditions  that allow teaching to be a profession requiring rigorous preparation and   conditions that allow exercise of professional judgment and the contour of a career – pensions and decent salaries. (The Real News will carry a story by Jaisal Noor on today's NUT strike, including a brief interview with me.)

                  It’s happening – a new generation is rebuilding teacher unions, with a commitment that unions need to be social movements. Several readers have asked me whether I’ll be participating in the Labor Notes conference in Chicago, April 4-6.  I think the work of birthing this new movement has to be done by union members still working in schools.  I’m with you in spirit and will follow closely what occurs.  I hope you’ll keep in mind the centrality  of creating a democratic culture, norms and protocols in our unions.  Mobilization on a social justice program is necessary but inadequate without our putting in place and defending democracy.

                   I’ll be in Denver, March 28, at United Opt Out, explaining how I see the present moment, our challenges and the dangers.  As always, you can contact me at drweinerlo@gmail.com and follow me on twitter and Facebook, as well as this blog every Wednesday here at New Politics.

    "Class Action," a project of CORE, reformers in the Chicago Teachers Union, and The Jacobin is out now.  It's a collection worth reading.

  • CÉSAR CHÁVEZ: RECOGNIZING HIS ACHIEVEMENT—AND ITS LIMITATIONS

    The forthcoming film Cesar Chavez: An American Hero will be opening in cities across the country on April 4, 2014 and already it has stirred discussion and debate among labor union activists, academics, and those on the left. Duane Campbell in a review titled “Cesar Chavez, The UFW and Strategic Racism” published on the website Talking Union: A Project of the DSA Labor Network” rightly praises Chávez as an inspiration to union activists but takes to task several writers—Frank Bardacke, Steve Early, Bruce Neuberger, and Miriam Pawel—for their criticism of the famous Mexican American farm worker organizer. He might also have included my book on Chávez.

    Cambell writes, “These books argue a peculiar point of view; they strongly and persistently imply that current problems of exploitation of workers in farm labor was caused by the destructive behavior of Cesar Chavez, his instability, and his ego—not by corporate agriculture; not by the racist state in rural California.” Campbell, in my view distorts the views and the criticisms of Chavez’s critics. I cannot speak for the other, but let me say for myself that I believe that Chávez was a remarkable organizer and an inspiring leader whose dedication and sacrifices for his union and for the Mexican American community are unquestionable. And of course we understand that the principal reason the farm workers were ultimately defeated in the 1980s (a defeat seldom acknowledged by Chavez’s uncritical supporters) was principally because of the power of California agribusiness, the Republican Party, and Governors Ronald Reagan and George Deukmejian.

    But, we must also recognize that in many ways César Chávez—his overalls and plaid shirt notwithstanding—became a labor union bureaucrat, that is, an authoritarian leader who thought, who believed, who knew what was best for the union’s rank and file. This is not a statement about his “ego and his instability,” though those were also problems. We are critical of Chávez because of his politics. He imposed on the originally Filipino farm workers union with which he had merged his Mexican contingent and on the collection of Catholic, Protestant, Jewish and atheist labor union lawyers, researchers, advisors, organizers, and supporters of the union his Mexican nationalist and Roman Catholic ideology and symbols. 

    We should remember that he called in the immigration authorities to expel undocumented workers from the fields and opposed organizing the undocumented, just as he opposed attempts to organize on both sides of the U.S.-Mexican border. He came to prioritize the boycott over the workers’ own power in the fields, above all the strike. At times through his hunger strikes he personally substituted his heroic deed for the union members' own action.

    Chávez refused to create local unions where workers might have elected their own leaders and he was infuriated by rank-and-file initiative in the union. When challenged either by his staff or the members, he drove the critics out. Allied with Walter Reuther, the president of the United Auto Workers, and with Attorney General Robert F. Kennedy, Chávez brought the United Farm workers into the Democratic Party to which it became politically subordinate, dependent economically on government subsidies to its organization.

    During his lifetime, before he died and ascended into Sainthood, César Chávez was openly criticized for these political problems in the Mexican American community and in the labor movement by activists such as the late Bert Corona who explained his difference with Chávez in his Memories of Chicano History. Yet today, we are expected to “speak no ill of the dead.” We have to find this peculiar, because we are all engaged in an on-going combination of organizing and criticism of our movement which shows no such respect for other unions or social movements. 

    The problems that I and other biographers of Chávez and writers on the union have described and discussed are not in any way different that the problems that existed in other labor unions and federations at the time whether they were headed by George Meany, Jimmy Hoffa, Sr., or Walter Reuther. More recently we have had Andy Stern, Jimmy Hoffa, Jr., and Bob King. Left, right, and center, we have had a bureaucratic caste in the union, often receiving higher salaries and better benefits than the workers they represent (something not true of Chávez), leaders with the belief that they understand better than the workers, the situation of union, the employers, and the government. These union officials have maintained an authoritarian grip on the unions since the upheaval of the 1930s and only rarely have rank-and-file organizations been able to pry their fingers the ledger, safe, and gavel.

    Chávez’s problems were only a variant on the universal problem of American unionism, even though they developed in a union in what was at times in a heroic life-and-death struggle with the employers, something which had also been true for other unions in their early days. Remember that most of the Congress of Industrial Organizations (CIO) unions born in the blood, tears, and joy of the sit-down strikes, were also born-bureaucratic, delivered by midwife John L. Lewis.

    I do not doubt that the power of agribusiness and the Republicans in the State of California was mainly responsible for the undoing of United Farm Workers, a defeat which leaves them with only a toehold in the fields in California today. But I and some of the other critics, if I read them right, believe that it might have been possible to create another sort of labor union, one based on a democratic internal organization, on the workers’ own power in the fields and in society, and politically independent of the two parties of big business. Would such a union have been able to beat back the growers and overcome the rightwing politicians? Might such a model have had a greater influence on other unions at the time and have triggered a broader rank-and-file rebellion. We cannot say, but, even had it been defeated anywy, it would have left a better legacy on which to build.

     

  • Lemisch's On Active Service Now Available Online

    Starring: Samuel Eliot Morison, Oscar Handlin, Richard Hofstadter, McGeorge Bundy, Arthur M. Schlesinger, Jr, Daniel Boorstin (including HUAC testimony), Allen Nevins, William Hardy McNeill, Eric Hoffer, John Blum, Stanley Elkins, and others. With 305 fact-filled footnotes!

    Contents: Introduction: Thomas Schofield; On Active Service by Jesse Lemisch: The “Present-Mindedness” of the New Left; Repression after World War II; The Ideology of Anti-Radicalism; Historians as Activists I; American History Rewritten; The Ideology of Repression at the End of the Sixties; Historians as Activists II; Notes; Acknowledgements

    Available for free download and/or reading online at any of these links:

    1. History News Network
    2. Academia. Edu
    3) Dropbox (courtesy of LD Burnett)

    At the tumultuous 1969 meeting of the American Historical Association, I presented a paper, “Present-Mindedness Revisited: Anti-Radicalism as a Goal of American Historical Writing Since World War II” (there is a description of this presentation and the atmosphere at the AHA in Peter Novick’s chapter, “Collapse of Comity,” in That Noble Dream: The ‘Objectivity Question’ and the American Historical Profession. The paper had an interesting history after that first presentation. After much positive (and negative) attention at the AHA meeting and in the New York Times and elsewhere, I submitted it serially to the American Historical Review and then to the Journal of American History. It received stunningly negative readings. R.K Webb of AHR wrote: (3/27/70) “I wonder if the activism of the New Left historians today, unlike the activism you so deplore in your article, may not be a bar to serious scholarship that can appeal to any scholar outside the sect itself…” Marty Ridge at the JAH (a nice man) sent me (7/17/70) a fifteen-page handwritten negative report from his anonymous reader, who wrote, “Lemisch is certainly the Tony Galento [an unorthodox boxer] of the Left I don’t know how you can tell him that he certainly cannot do it in the pages of the Journal. He probably believes that he can, which says something about how far he and his ilk are estranged from civilization [emphasis added].” Ridge himself wrote, “This essay more than any that I have read in the last several years has disturbed me.”

    I was invited to present versions of my paper at dozens of institutions, where it received an enthusiastic reception, particularly from younger historians. In those years, after national attention to my paper, and earlier political firing/non-renewals at the University of Chicago and Northwestern, I was preoccupied with the problems besetting the job-seeker in a two-career family, exacerbated in my case by a partial blacklisting and repeated department votes vehemently in my favor over-ruled by the one senior holdout who would deliver to the dean/provost the over-my-dead-body speech. Shortly after I arrived at SUNY-Buffalo in 1973, I made contact through law student Thomas Schofield with New Hogtown Press in Toronto, a small left press with excellent publications in social and labor history. Thom, who had been an undergraduate at the University of Toronto, arranged to write an introduction for a Canadian edition, and it was published in 1975 as On Active Service…. Almost 40 years later, people who want to read it encounter difficulties, and I’m told that there is lively circulation in xerox samizdat. Recently I posted on the US Intellectual History blog a short article. “Higham, Hofstadter and Woodward: Three Liberal Historians?” This precipitated fierce debate, with some 80 comments, many of them lengthy and, quite frequently, over the top. It seemed to me that it was time to make On Active Service available, and I have found ways to do this, online and free.

    Historians/American Studies people: now that On Active Service is so easily available, please consider assigning it in courses.

  • Looking Back at the Labor Party: An Interview with Mark Dudzic

    In the 1990s, hundreds of U.S. labor activists came together to form the Labor Party. The initiative was the brainchild of Tony Mazzocchi, the passionate leader of the Oil, Chemical and Atomic Workers International Union (which, after two mergers, is today part of the United Steelworkers). Mazzocchi held true to the dream of an independent political party rooted in the labor movement over which working people would have ownership. He was fond of pointing out: “The bosses have two parties. We need one of our own.”

    By the mid-1990s, it seemed as if Mazzocchi’s dream was on its way to becoming a reality. In June 1996, nearly 1,500 trade unionists met in Cleveland to found the Labor Party. It was an impressive turnout, marked by a sense of excitement and debate as well as daunting challenge.

    By any measure, the delegates had a formidable task ahead of them. Periodic attempts to form labor parties in the U.S., going back as far as the 19th century, had all eventually flopped. But coming out of the 1996 convention, the Labor Party had strong leadership, institutional backing, favorable external conditions, and high hopes.

    A decade after the founding convention, the Labor Party still existed in name, but outside of a few local pockets it was essentially defunct. For several years it twisted and turned through a series of interesting experiments and navigated some tricky internal tensions. Organizers did their best to sustain the Labor Party through difficult circumstances. But ultimately it failed to last.

    In 2013, it is still hard to find much thoughtful analysis of the history of the Labor Party and the lessons we could derive from it. (An exception is a recent essay by Mark Dudzic and Katherine Isaac.) This is unfortunate, because many of the dilemmas that the Labor Party confronted remain with us today. Moreover, its strategies for overcoming those obstacles and its vision of how a genuine working class party should operate may prove useful in thinking about how to move beyond the current impasse. It's vital that we engage with the history of the Labor Party in order to make better sense of the path forward.

    This interview is meant as a contribution to that process of reflection. It is intended to serve as both an introduction to the history of the Labor Party as well as a critical look at its life and legacies. It surveys the lead up to the Labor Party’s founding, its basic goals and philosophy, its strategic orientation, and its development over the course of a decade. It gauges the Party’s successes, shortcomings, external obstacles, and internal debates. It also tries to extract lessons from the Labor Party’s history and to offer some insight into the perils and promise of the current conjuncture. The interview is organized into four parts: Origins and Philosophy; Party Life and Internal Debates; The Labor Party and Left Strategy; and Looking Back, Looking Ahead. It was conducted in late 2012 over both email and telephone.

    Mark Dudzic has a long history in the American labor movement. He became the National Organizer of the Labor Party after the death of Tony Mazzocchi in 2002. Before that he was president of Local 8-149 of OCAW for nearly two decades. He is currently the National Coordinator for the Labor Campaign for Single Payer Healthcare. A unifying thread over the course of Dudzic’s career has been his constant engagement with broad questions of how to strengthen labor’s power and independent political voice. As Dudzic says below, "We need to encourage a broad and open discussion of Labor Party history and lessons within the labor movement." This interview was done in that spirit.

    PART I: ORIGINS AND PHILOSOPHY

    Tony Mazzocchi was instrumental in developing the idea of the Labor Party and helping it to get off the ground. Before we get into the nuts and bolts of the party’s founding, can you talk about Mazzocchi, who he was, what he envisioned, and why he was able to play the role he did?

    Tony was an extraordinary and visionary leader. He was born in 1926 in Brooklyn. At 16, he joined the Army and fought in World War II. After the war, he bummed around on the GI Bill for a while and then hired into the Helena Rubinstein cosmetics factory in New York City where the workers were represented by a union that would become the Oil, Chemical and Atomic Workers Union (now part of the Steelworkers). Over the next 30 years he was elected shop steward, chief steward, local president, international executive board member, OCAW Legislative Director, and OCAW Vice President. He ran, as an opposition candidate, for OCAW President in 1979 and 1981 and lost both elections by less than 3% of the vote. He was elected OCAW Secretary-Treasurer in 1988 on a unity slate and then served as the Labor Party National Organizer from 1992 until his death in 2002.

    Mazzocchi was involved in most of the progressive initiatives embraced by sections of the postwar labor movement, including the civil rights struggle and movements against nuclear proliferation and the war in Viet Nam. He led the fight for the passage of the Occupational Health and Safety Act in 1970 and worked to establish the first labor and environmental alliances. He framed these issues as a fight against corporate power.

    His worldview was shaped by his experiences in World War II and the postwar GI Bill—where he witnessed the capacity of the state to mobilize immense resources to both wage war and to redeploy them for peaceful purposes—and by his exposure to the New York City labor left before it was crushed during the Cold War years. He was the prototype of the worker intellectual and had a voracious appetite for knowledge and culture that he shared with those around them. He had an inclusive leadership style which served him well in the hundreds of union halls he visited in his career. Most of all, he had an unshakeable confidence in the capacity of working people to create change.

    So the attempt to build a labor party consumed much of the final decade of Mazzocchi's life. But the inability to sustain a viable, independent working class party has been one of the historic frustrations for the American left. Can you explain the context surrounding the lead up to the Labor Party’s formation in 1996? What factors made Mazzocchi and his allies think that the 1990s were an apt time to initiate such an ambitious project?

    The impetus to launch a labor party movement came out of two trends in the late 1980s and early 1990s. The first was the collapse of the post-war collective bargaining regime and the rise of neoliberalism. This trend emerged in full force in the late 1970s and was responsible for the orgy of union busting, deindustrialization, and attacks on the social insurance model of the Reagan years. At first, most of the institutional labor movement assumed that this was a temporary aberration and that their “seat at the table” would be restored by appealing to more reasonable sections of the corporate ruling class and more vigorous political action and lobbying directed at Democrats and moderate Republicans.

    By the late 1980s, a growing section of the labor movement was beginning to realize that neoliberalism had triumphed and the new structures of global capitalism had marginalized the labor movement and made it virtually impossible to pursue working class interests through the (admittedly flawed) postwar pattern of negotiation and compromise within multi-class political parties. The failed Kennedy and Jackson insurgencies led many to conclude that the Democratic Party could no longer be expected to represent even a compromised version of working class and popular interests. This realization was more widely held by leaders at the local and regional levels of the labor movement but by the 1990s a growing number of national leaders also began to realize that labor’s days were numbered and the old system was collapsing.

    It should be noted that Mazzocchi laid out this perspective as early as 1979. In his campaign for president of the OCAW in that year, he warned that the 1980s were going to “come at us like a freight train” and that the union needed to transform itself by building new alliances and girding for a fight. His opponent ridiculed him for being an alarmist and predicted that the 1980s would be “just like the 1950s, the 1960s, the 1970s. Sure, we’ll have our fights, but there is no need to run around saying the sky is falling.”

    The other emerging trend was the re-birth of a “labor left” which, with few exceptions, had been red-baited out of the institutional labor movement in the 1940s. A new generation of leaders and activists began to emerge who had come of age in the 1960s and were committed to a vision of social unionism. Many had ties to movements to empower women and people of color. Many were radicalized by fights against concessions and union busting. In addition, the collapse of the Soviet Union and the end of the Cold War weakened the ties between the institutional labor movement and U.S. imperial foreign policy resulting in a new tolerance, and the occasional embrace, of viewpoints that would have been beyond the pale during the Cold War years.

    By the mid-90s, the labor movement was undergoing a bit of a resurgence. A number of creative and militant fights against concessions had captivated an activist base and a new generation of leaders embraced an “organizing model of unionism.” In 1995, the “New Voices” slate swept into office in the only contested election in the history of the AFL-CIO promising to organize a million new members a year. All of these efforts came up against the reality that the Democratic Party was dominated by corporate interests and was obstructing the potential of a revitalized labor movement. President Clinton’s advocacy of the NAFTA agreement was, to many, the final nail in the coffin of the Democratic Party.

    How would you describe the Labor Party’s basic philosophy as it got underway? What, concretely, were its central goals, and what were its strategies for achieving those goals?

    In one of the early educational sessions prior to the launching of Labor Party Advocates, an OCAW member came up with the Labor Party’s slogan: “The bosses have two parties. It’s time we had one of our own.” Different forces brought different perspectives to the table. Some had an ideological commitment to a labor party as part of a broader socialist project. Others just wanted to teach the Democrats a lesson that they couldn’t be taken for granted. In between, there was a broad base of folks who wanted to build a labor-based political party as the cornerstone of an anti-corporate movement that built working class power. There was a palpable disenchantment with the Democratic Party and the Clintonian version of neoliberalism. Many looked to the Canadian New Democratic Party (which many International Unions with Canadian members participated in) as an example of how a minority party could help set the terms of political debate. The newly formed Brazilian Workers Party and other working class political insurgencies around the world also provided context for understanding how a party of labor could function in a neoliberal world.

    There was never an explicit initial organizing strategy and opening goal but I would say that there was a broad consensus on how to proceed. The goal was to move a significant section of the institutional labor movement into a commitment to work towards a break with the Democratic Party and active support for the launching of the Labor Party. We started with a recognition that the labor movement could not afford to immediately disengage from all of its political entanglements in a two-party, winner-takes-all system. We called for movement-building to precede electoral politics and for building a working class constituency rather than just mobilizing an already activated base. We recognized that efforts to build a movement by convening a body of self-appointed leaders with a shopping list of demands for the working class to follow were doomed to failure. Rather, we focused on building a broad movement of working-class institutions, leaders, and activists to speak on our own behalf. We avoided the expediency of identity politics and liberal talking points and instead organized around broad class-based interests and concerns.

    The Labor Party promised a "new organizing model of politics." What did this mean?

    The “new organizing model for politics” said that electoral politics was situated in the broader project to build working class organization and politics. It said that we would enter electoral politics from a position of strength. We set substantial requirements for electoral intervention to assure that any effort was serious and geared towards building capacity. Standards included formal support from a substantial portion of the labor movement in the targeted constituency, the ability to raise enough funds to run a credible campaign and the presence of an organization in the constituency that could mobilize voters and activists at the precinct-level. Candidates had to be accountable to a formal Labor Party structure and the Labor Party would not run or endorse candidates on other party lines.

    This model recognized that, for working people, the stakes for breaking with the Democratic Party were high and that any formal electoral effort had to be serious and strategic. It also was informed by the failures of many “insurgencies” within the Democratic Party and by labor-based political parties elsewhere in the industrialized world where candidates and elected officials were not held accountable to working class constituencies and were co-opted or corrupted.

    Who were the key players involved in the internal discussions that shaped the Labor Party’s early groundwork and founding?

    Many of the early players in labor party advocacy came out of the OCAW. The union had a unique history of rank-and-file control and militant activism. In 1988 a slate led by Bob Wages and Tony Mazzocchi won national office. They pledged to explore the possibility of building a labor party and embarked upon an internal discussion and education program that resulted in the commitment of significant institutional support for the project and the mobilization of local leaders and activists who became organizers in their workplaces and their communities.

    Other unions followed similar paths. Some like the UE (United Electrical, Radio and Machine Workers of America) and the west coast longshore union (ILWU) had been historic advocates of independent working class politics. Others, like the Mineworkers (UMWA) and the railroad Maintenance of Way workers (BMWE) had undergone internal transformations similar to the OCAW or, like the California Nurses Association, had emerged from a period of internal struggle to embrace a new vision of social unionism. Organizations that sought to organize marginalized and excluded workers like the Farm Labor Organizing Committee (FLOC) and the Kensington Welfare Rights Union (KWRU) also responded to the call. In addition, Mazzocchi was in contact with hundreds of rank-and-file activists and union dissidents who saw the labor party movement as a central part of a program to build working class power.

    From the beginning, we were careful to ensure that the leadership of the labor party movement consisted of people who actually represented workers and could bring institutional commitments and resources to the table. The first meeting of the interim steering committee of Labor Party Advocates (the organizing committee that evolved into the Labor Party in 1996) took place in Chicago in 1993. The 80 union leaders in attendance represented over half a million workers.

    You mentioned some of the unions and other organizations that got behind the Labor Party initially. Could you explain why these specific unions and groups – and not others – got behind the Labor Party idea?

    A lot of the groups that came to the Labor Party either came from traditions where they were looking for an alternative political strategy, like the UE and ILWU, the remnants of the CIO Left from the 1940s, or they had undergone some kind of internal transformation based on confronting the new realities of the 1980s with the labor movement. This is what happened with my union, the OCAW. It was happening with a lot of local unions, a lot of groups. The Teamsters were coming together around reform movements. Ron Carey was elected Teamsters President in 1991, rejoining the AFL-CIO (which set the stage for the Sweeney victory in 1995) and embracing an aggressive mobilization and bargaining strategy. So those were the kinds of people that came together on this. They were looking for an alternative. They were responsive to the message and they had leaderships that were either trying to be accountable to rank-and-file movements within their unions or were trying to start those movements themselves.

    You also mentioned “social unionism” and you associate many of the Labor Party supporters with this idea. Can you explain more what you mean by “social unionism” and why it was important to the project of the Labor Party?

    I would say that social unionism, at its most fundamental, understands that workers are a class with interests that go beyond a particular bargaining relationship that they may have with an employer. It understands also that employers are part of a capitalist class which seeks unrestricted, hegemonic control in all spheres of society. In practice, this understanding means that unions must align the interests and struggles of their members with those of the entire working class and contest capital for power in all social spheres. It is the old solidarity unionism—“an injury to one is an injury to all”—writ large.

    Going back, you said that there were 80 unions at the Labor Party’s founding that represented roughly half a million workers. It seems like you were trying to make this a party that was – concretely and substantively, not just symbolically or rhetorically – composed of and led by actual leaders, organizers, and rank-and-file members of the labor movement. Can you speak about that kind of model, and how it’s different from other existing parties?

    That was central to what we felt had to happen. We felt that if you have a party of labor you have to have a significant percentage of the labor movement in the room and at the table at all times. We felt that the people who were going to move this were people who were really representative of the actually-existing labor movement. Those were the folks that we needed to win over, and not necessarily the top national leaders. The base of the Labor Party was always local and regional, leaders of different union formations. Those are the folks who could really move the issue and who could really speak on behalf of a constituency. So, that was very important. And then Tony always had this dictum that “If you can’t get it passed in your own union hall, don’t bring it to a broader organization.” This hit on the need to connect whatever politics you were doing to a real institutional and living and breathing constituency. So, that was just our style from the very beginning. It’s easy to get a hundred leftists together and put together a shopping list of political issues that we want to organize around. You can lay that out, but it doesn’t have any kind of reality beyond the names on that list and the issues on that list.

    You also said that the Canadian New Democratic Party (NDP) and the Brazilian Workers’ Party were inspirations. What about them excited you and how do you see their examples as relating to the scene in the U.S.?

    The NDP was interesting. First of all, because a lot of unions had direct experience with it, so it was accessible and was comfortable to the union culture. And you had the model of the passage of single-payer healthcare that was led by the NDP even though they didn’t actually hold power in any province except Saskatchewan. They were a minority power nationally, but they were able to, as Tony always used to say, seize the terms of debate and move a working-class agenda with a national political basis. That was really important. And then you had these exciting new movements in the context of neoliberalism. For 10 or 15 years, all we heard from both the Reagan/Thatcher people and a lot of the older labor and Social Democratic parties was “there is no alternative,” you’ve got to accommodate yourself to the market culture. And then you have these parties like the Brazilian Workers Party which, particularly in that moment, seemed to be very fresh and developing momentum, developing a class-based movement that was challenging that neoliberal model. So it was very exciting to people. And it had developed in places like Korea, where the labor movement kind of exploded during that period, the South African experiences. All this really motivated a lot of folks.

    That phrase Tony Mazzocchi used, “seize the terms of the debate,” is interesting. Was that a goal of the Labor Party? And what was the overall strategy in terms of pursuing it?

    I think that was part of the first goal of the Labor Party. The real goal of the Labor Party was to build a world that represented working peoples’ concerns and served their interests. But I think that the first goal that we set for ourselves was that, if we could build this powerful movement, then we could pull the debate back into what it would take to build that kind of a world, rather than the debates that we’d been having for the last 30 years about how to accommodate to this new world. So, that was really crucial, and I think that was very clarifying when Tony and others laid it out that way. It really helped clarify what needed to happen before anything else happened.

    Let's shift to another topic. Historically, labor has been committed to the Democrats, and Mazzocchi recognized a problem here: unions won’t abandon the Democrats for a labor party that can’t promise victory and may be an electoral spoiler, but at the same time, it would be impossible to build a labor party that could compete electorally if it didn’t have the support of unions. What was the Labor Party’s strategy for confronting this dilemma?

    Our party-building model was premised on the understanding that you cannot have a party of labor that does not have at the table a substantial portion of the actually-existing labor movement. The Labor Party had to start with the assurance that it wouldn’t play spoiler politics and that it would focus on building the critical mass necessary for serious electoral intervention. This was easier to envision in the political context of the 1990s where the Democratic Party was clearly aligning itself with a neoliberal, anti-worker agenda and the labor movement was struggling with how to overcome decades of decline and regain the offensive. It was not inconceivable that a trade union movement that was organizing a million workers a year and confronting corporate power in the workplace would throw its weight behind an effort to build a class-based political movement. The strategic defeat of this effort to revitalize the labor movement changed the political calculus. By the early years of the new millennium, most unions had reverted to a survival mode that precluded the embrace of transformative efforts like the Labor Party.

    Let's go a little deeper into this question of elections, because it was one of the crucial issues within the Labor Party. Some party activists disagreed with the official position to wait on elections until you could legitimately compete. They said, basically, if you’re a party, you run in elections anyways to spread your ideas, build support, and justify your existence. How would you respond to this? If the Labor Party wasn’t going to be an actual electoral party until it built up a base, should it have remained something else, something less than a party? And if so, base-building and expanding your constituency without becoming a party could take years, even decades. Is it possible to sustain that kind of grassroots effort, the energy, morale, unity, excitement, and so on, without running in elections?

    First of all, in retrospect, I think it was premature for us to coalesce into a party formation without an understanding of how we would relate to elections. That was a problem. And again, it was because of the rapid growth of the Labor Party movement, which was connected to the broader rapid growth of the revitalized expectations around the labor movement overall. Leaders like Mazzocchi were really trying to put a damper on the demand to move from Labor Party Advocates to a full-blown party, but it sort of ran away from us. So yes, that is a problem.

    But secondly, my experience with elections is that they’ve been very disempowering. They haven’t really been a way to organize or raise issues. Without a permanent, structural presence that goes beyond elections, they leave very little in their wake. You get all excited and you mobilize a base around an individual campaign. But it disappears when that individual loses, or worse when they gain power and you have no effective way to use that office and hold that person accountable. And they drift off into some kind of sell-out structure. I’ve been involved in the Jesse Jackson movement – in fact, in New Jersey they established some longer-term institutional presences, some other candidates over time – but they rarely leave much behind them beyond the initial excitement of the person. So I’m not sure that’s an effective way to build a permanent organization.

    And then I would say, really, when we struggled with this issue – and I think we came out with a really brilliant understanding of what it would take to have an electoral presence – we never shut the door to electoral activity. We said we would run candidates who are accountable to the Labor Party when we had any constituency where we had the capacity to run a credible election. This meant that you had to have a substantial support from the labor movement in that constituency. It didn’t have to be unanimous, but it had to show that you had substantial support. You had to show that you had the capacity to run an election down to the precinct level, show that you had that kind of serious organizing capacity, and that you had structures in place to hold that candidate accountable to that constituency. I think that’s what it would take to run a real candidate. Anything else is just kind of self-serving, a Green Party-type model. If you can’t even put out enough poll watchers to cover every precinct in an election campaign, and you can’t call on a substantial portion of the labor movement to come out and support your candidate, you’re not building anything, and there’ll be little that remains afterwards. So, I think one of the biggest contributions that the Labor Party’s experience has made is in thinking about elections and what it would take to run effective candidacies in elections.

    You talked a lot about what you called the “strategic defeat” and how it “changed the political calculus” for the Labor party by the late 1990s/early 2000s. Can you go a little further on what changed and why, and the effects of it?

    The only reason the Labor Party was at all viable in the 1990s was that there was a movement that had come to fruition that wanted to revitalize the labor movement and to rebuild and reorganize the labor movement. It sort of reached its peak with the Sweeny election in the AFL-CIO and this new blossoming with the academic community. You had a labor movement that briefly came together, first around finally figuring out how to hold the line to some degree against the corporate assault in the workplace with brilliant corporate campaigns. And it kind of pushed aside a lot of the interests of the Cold War and the link to U.S. imperial policy. It put organizing as the main priority of the labor movement. We really thought that we were going to be able to organize a million new workers a year. That was the commitment. It was part of this revitalized movement. And we didn’t. We lost that moment. We weren’t able to revitalize the labor movement in a way that helped it to expand. So, if your calculus is that you need to build a Labor Party movement on that core that’s revitalizing the labor movement, and you foresee the labor movement continuing to grow and double in size over the next decade, then that becomes a real conceivable idea, that the Labor Party movement would grow along with that movement. But when that revitalization of the labor movement didn’t pan out, it was no longer conceivable that you could continue to do this transformative Labor Party project. It took us a few years to realize that. I think that the revitalization of the labor movement was pretty much over by the late 1990s, and it probably took us another two or three years to realize what that meant to the Labor Party movement.

    PART II: PARTY LIFE AND INTERNAL DEBATES

    Let's take a step back to get a bird’s eye overview of the Labor Party’s development over time. If you had to periodize the history of the Labor Party, to give it a chronology in which you designate important turning points and distinct phases within its lifespan, how would you do so? What did its evolution look like, and what characterized its different periods?

    I’d say we can break it down into three phases. The first period would be from 1992 to 1998. This was a period of growth and expansion. We recruited leaders and organizations, established a party structure and principles, and worked at becoming a potent force within the labor movement. The second phase would be from 1998 to 2002, and that was marked by stabilization and stagnation. During this time we worked at developing an internal party life and expanding our organizing capacity. We experimented with programs and campaigns to build the party and developed more stable leadership structures and a routine party life. Individual membership continued to grow, especially in union affiliates with internal organizing programs, but union affiliations began to stagnate (this reflected the receding of the brief mid-1990s upsurge of the labor movement). We had no new national unions affiliated after 1998.

    The third period was one of decline, and that lasted from 2002 to 2007. During this time the labor movement suffered a series of strategic defeats. The stolen election of 2000 and the scapegoating of Ralph Nader created a reaction against independent parties and “spoiler” candidacies. The horrendous policies of the Bush administration engendered an “anyone but Bush” mindset that closed the door to political initiatives that wanted to do more than elect Democrats in the next election cycle. Tony Mazzocchi, our National Organizer, died in 2002, and the Labor Party lost his visionary leadership and the tremendous respect that he received from all levels of the labor movement. The labor movement also split into two federations in 2005. Deindustrialization continued to gut many of the unions that were the core of the Labor Party. With all this, the Party ceased renewing individual memberships and union affiliations in 2007.

    Who constituted the actually-existing base of the Labor Party during its early years? Who did it see as its target base to bring in, and how did it hope to appeal to those constituents?

    At its peak, the Labor Party affiliates included six national unions and over 500 regional and local union bodies—probably close to 20% of the institutional labor movement. Much of this support did not rise above the level of “resolutionary politics”: motions of formal support passed at conventions or union meetings, payment of affiliation fees and the assignment of one or two union officials to attend Labor Party events. But many unions made a much more serious commitment. Thousands of union members participated in our “Corporate Power and the American Dream” education program. Local unions signed up members to make regular contributions through payroll deductions and mobilized members to participate in our campaigns for a constitutional right to a job, single payer healthcare, free higher education and workers’ rights. Individual membership fluctuated between 15,000 and 20,000. Most were union members but many were from unions that were not formal affiliates of the Labor Party.
    The plan was to build a strong base within the trade union movement, open up relationships and communications across union jurisdictional lines and move that base into working class communities where we could, through one-on-one organizing, build a working class constituency that was unified around the Labor Party’s program, “A Call for Economic Justice”, which was an eloquent illustration of what politics would look like if it was conducted on behalf of the vast majority of Americans who worked for a living.

    How would you describe the internal organization of the Labor Party?

    The Convention was the supreme governing body of the Labor Party (there were three Conventions: 1996, 1998 and 2002). It set the overall policy and direction of the Labor Party and appointed an Interim National Committee (INC) that directed the affairs of the Labor Party between conventions. Representation at Conventions was through union delegations (national unions, regional and central labor bodies, local unions and "worker supportive organizations" could all elect and send delegates). Labor Party Chapters—formal, geographic based Labor Party organizations consisting of individual members and unions in a defined area—could also elect delegates. Provisions were also made to allow individual members not represented by a chapter to participate in an "at large" delegation. Voting was weighted by the size of the union or chapter represented.

    The INC consisted of 30 or more leaders from various unions and affiliates. Efforts were made to ensure racial, gender, geographic and occupational diversity and to accommodate various points of view. The INC could co-opt additional members to fill vacancies, maintain diversity, and provide representation for significant new affiliates. The INC appointed the National Organizer and other officers of the Labor Party. The National Organizer directed the Party’s day-to-day affairs.

    Each Chapter was required to adopt a constitution and bylaws that conformed to the principles of accountability and democratic governance. The National Party directed and resourced major campaigns and projects, published a newspaper and activist newsletter. Chapters and union-based Labor Party affiliates often initiated and ran their own projects and campaigns with little support or direction from the national organization. For example, Chapters in Massachusetts, Maine and Florida initiated and ran non-binding referenda on single-payer healthcare.

    Union-based Labor Party initiatives were often quite autonomous as unions have their own internal organization, leadership, and priorities. They often focused on membership education and mobilization. The national Labor Party ran campaigns such as an annual membership drive and a nationally syndicated call-in radio program in support of the Just Health Care campaign that many unions participated in.

    How did chapters relate to the national leadership and a national agenda?

    Chapters were entitled to four regional seats on the INC and national Chapter conventions were held to coordinate their work. Six states also established state-level labor party organizations to coordinate the work of the Chapters and union affiliates on a state-level. Chapter experiences were quite mixed. Some were basically associations of union affiliates that worked to coordinate regional work and allocate resources. Others developed a substantial organizing presence on their own behalf and initiated and ran their own campaigns. Still others devolved into sectarian debating societies.

    Supporting chapter activities and resolving chapter disputes consumed an inordinate amount of the resources of the national party. The role and functions of chapters was never really clear. They developed somewhat spontaneously as a holding ground for individual members who were not in unions or from unaffiliated unions. The vision was that they would eventually be the precinct level political organizations of an electoral and activist party. But, at a time when the main task of the Labor Party was to build density and presence inside the labor movement, chapter functions were often not all that integrated into the strategic work of the Party. Some chapters were actually undermining that strategic work as incessant internal conflict actually drove away trade union activists. The New York City Chapter—at one time the largest Labor Party organization in the U.S. with nearly 1,200 members—was dissolved by the national party after a long, acrimonious internal dispute. The Buffalo Chapter was suspended for violating the Labor Party’s electoral policy and endorsing a candidate running in a Democratic primary.

    This might be difficult to answer because it’s so general, but for people who were never able to experience being active in the Labor Party, can you describe what daily life and struggle was like for party builders? What were their concerns and how were these concerns embedded in their everyday work and the party’s internal life?

    The several thousand Labor Party activists recruited new members in their workplace or community, distributed the party newspaper and other written materials, organized community forums, hosted national speakers, and participated in educational programs. Many worked in various door-to-door organizing campaigns around a right to a job, just health care, free higher education, and local initiatives. They organized demonstrations and solidarity actions for workers on strike. They participated in discussion and debates about party strategy and tactics and attended local, regional and national meetings and conventions. The Labor Party also had a vigorous cultural life, sponsoring concerts, plays, movie screenings, celebrations and dances.

    The DC Labor Film Fest, the nation’s premier labor film festival, was launched by the Labor Party and the DC Metro Labor Council in 2001.

    What was the racial composition of the Labor Party membership at its height? Its composition in terms of sex?

    We never did a demographic study of the membership, but I would guess that about 30% were people of color and probably about a third of the membership were women. That was probably reflected up through the leadership of the Labor Party. I think that the base membership of the Labor Party tended to come from the old industrial sectors, and that tended to be more male and whiter than some of the service employee unions.

    Why do you think that these sectors were disproportionately drawn to the Labor Party? And how would you measure the response of service sector and retail unions — who have experienced more recent growth and whose demographics reflect broader shifts among the unionized working class — to the Labor Party idea?

    In the 1990s, the old-line industrial and transportation unions (and, to a lesser extent, the building trades) were the ones most affected by neoliberal globalization. They had been getting pounded throughout the 1980s. Many of them still bore a pale resemblance to their CIO origins so they had more of an internal life and structures of accountability than the large, regional, staff-driven unions in the service and public sectors. The labor party idea really resonated with leaders and activists in this sector. Public workers in the 1990s were still winning non-concessionary contracts and their bargaining rights were expanding. Many of the traditional unions in the retail sector were still in their pre-Wal-Mart delusional phase where they thought they could use their control of the local labor market to enforce some stability. These were mainly top-down unions with little interest in mobilizing around a social unionist vision. The SEIU was leading an effort to organize new workers in healthcare and service industries. In the 1990s this work was very dynamic and progressive and hadn’t yet embraced a class collaborationist union model. There were lots of connections between this new unionism and the Labor Party and a number of these local and regional unions were affiliates, but these unions, by and large, were also organized in a top-down fashion. This meant that participation was mainly limited to officials and staffers and very few of these unions embraced the more expansive educational and mobilization projects that we were involved with in our core unions. Of course, this meant that our base was weakest among the sections of the labor movement that were expanding and among the sectors of the working class—Latinos, women, immigrants—who would be stepping up in the 21st century. And for the unions in these sectors, their failure to embrace the Labor Party and social unionism meant that they were unprepared for the neoliberal assaults on them that intensified early in the new century.

    There was an unexpected rift at the founding convention around the issue of abortion rights. An immigrant farm workers' group, the Farm Labor Organizing Committee, opposed including this plank in the party constitution and threatened to walk out over it. The conflict was resolved, or finessed, when delegates agreed to not initially use the exact word "abortion" in the constitution while still defending the right to choose in other language. Can you talk a little bit about this, and more generally how the Labor Party sought to navigate divisions like this among its membership?

    Just like a union in an organizing drive, you have to build trust, unity, and tolerance around the core issues of class and power first. People will respect and honor concerns arising out of the diverse experiences of their fellow workers if they view all workers as part of a class with common concerns and needs. The real achievement of the abortion debate was not that it was finessed by a judicious choice of words. Rather it was that its conclusion was crafted, agreed to and owned by workers who had strongly held opinions on this issue and that they were willing to put them aside for the sake of a broader unity.

    I think the idea was to let people work it out. They’re going to make the right decisions. I can recall a debate we once had on the National Council of the Labor Party that we had to take a stand on Clinton’s bombing of Serbia during the Yugoslav crisis. And you know, it just struck me: what difference does it make whether we speak out on this or not? We have no power to effect that discussion or that debate. We ought to be talking about how we can develop the power so that we can influence those decisions rather than debating this issue in this sterile way that does nothing except maybe make you feel good that you took a stand on this thing. That was the thinking around a lot of these debates. You can have a really beautiful program that touched all of the talking points of the liberal-left, that made everybody feel good, but people didn’t have ownership over that program and didn’t see how it was capable of building movements necessary to achieve the results. It’s just another pie in the sky.

    The first major campaign of the Labor Party as a national group was for a 28th Amendment to the Constitution that guaranteed a job at a decent wage for everyone. Can you describe this campaign and why the Labor Party took it up? Looking back on it, what is your balance sheet?

    The 28th Amendment Campaign was meant to ignite social movement organizing around a core working class issue using a non-electoral model. It was designed to encourage one-on-one organizing and constituency building and to promote a unified party life beyond union jurisdictions. It generated a lot of activity right after the Party’s founding and succeeded in melding together an activist core. But, in retrospect, it was “a bridge too far.” The idea that the government could and should guarantee everyone who wants to work a right to a job was part of the mainstream political discourses right through the 1970s. But 20 years of neoliberalism undermined the very notion that such a thing was possible. The campaign failed to catch fire in working class communities and even most of the activists did not believe that an actual constitutional amendment was possible in any conceivable time frame.

    The Free Higher Ed campaign was one of the Labor Party's more exciting projects. Can you explain what it was and why you initiated it?

    Free Higher Ed was a brilliant organizing initiative. It came out of the experiences of the earlier generation with the GI Bill and how that helped create a whole system of economic security for a huge section of the working class in the U.S. It was just a way – as Tony always said – to seize the terms of the debate. Why shouldn’t higher education be free? What would a world look like that had free higher education? It was clearly something that would resonate with people on all kinds of levels. And it’s an achievable demand. You don’t need a new millennia to achieve it. You can look at the numbers. It’s not much more per year than what the U.S. has spent in Iraq and Afghanistan over the past eleven years. It’s certainly within the capacity of the society to do it.

    So those were exactly the kinds of issues that we felt could really build a movement. The fact that it didn’t was very indicative of how much the vision and the sense of the possible had deteriorated in the social movements. Our understanding was that the natural supporters of this would be the academic unions and broader groups of students and aspiring students and their families. People responded to it very quickly, but they never believed that they were capable of achieving this in any real way, so they didn’t integrate it into the work they did. They kept going back to the day-to-day defensive fights over holding on to Pell grants and preventing the elimination of academic departments. All of the gritty defensive fights rather than using free higher education as a broader organizing principle.

    Interestingly, the Labor Party had one of its strongest bases in South Carolina. Can you explain why this was so, and also how South Carolina emerged as a testing ground for the party’s overall base-building strategy in the 2000s?

    South Carolina’s small and beleaguered labor movement was led by people who had no illusions about the nature of the two-party system. The state Democratic Party was openly anti-labor, supported right to work legislation and was particularly disrespectful to its core voting bloc in the African-American communities. In 2006, the labor movement almost universally supported an initiative to certify the South Carolina Labor Party as a state party. Activists chose to use the petitioning campaign for ballot status as an organizing opportunity to engage in one-on-one conversations with working people (almost all of whom were not union members) around the state. They collected over 16,000 signatures from workers in every county in the state. The founding convention set up structures to run candidates and hold them accountable to a Labor Party organization governed by workers and their unions.
    Labor Party leaders hoped that the proof that we could build a party of labor in the heart of the right to work South would inspire the national labor movement to both put real resources into the South Carolina effort and to revive and renew their support for the Labor Party nationally. Unfortunately, the labor movement was in such an advanced state of decline at this point that little new support or resources materialized. The lack of resources and the rise of Obamamania, particularly among the state’s African Americans, made it impossible for the party to launch a serious candidacy in the 2008 elections and the party died on the vine.

    PART III: THE LABOR PARTY AND LEFT STRATEGY

    The Labor Party’s first few years overlapped with the growth of the Green Party in the late 1990s, the 2000 Nader campaign, and the rise of an “anti-globalization” protest movement most memorably illustrated in the 1999 Battle of Seattle. Clearly the Labor Party was part of a broader moment in American politics where people were beginning to explore alternatives. How did the party relate to everything else going on?

    There was an organizational ferment around the need for independent politics that the Labor Party was part of. We viewed our priority as the development of a class-based politics rooted in the labor movement. We did not think it fruitful to encourage or participate in the perennial debates among various leftists about party building and politics. Those projects had proven to produce nothing but bringing the same people together in a different configuration. Our focus was on moving the labor movement away from its lockstep relationship with the Democratic Party and organizing a new working class constituency rather than mobilizing the same activist base.

    That said, the Labor Party maintained amicable relations with many of the new politics groups that were emerging at the time. The Green Party adopted most of the Labor Party economic program and National Organizer Tony Mazzocchi spoke at their 2000 Convention that nominated Ralph Nader for president. The Labor Party viewed the emergence of an anti-globalization movement as a very hopeful sign and Labor Party leaders and members were active participants in the Battle of Seattle. We worked to establish cooperation and unity between unions and the anti-globalization movement.

    What was the Labor Party doing differently than the Greens that, in your opinion, made it a better model, one more worthy of support from the left?

    I don’t want to go to war with any of these other party-building efforts, because we’ll all hopefully come together some day. But I think that the fundamental problem with some of the Left is that they see politics as more of a question of personal redemption, bearing witness, and lifestyle choice rather than a real organizing dilemma about how to build power. I think structures like the Green Party allow people to feel personally good about their political choices, that they’re able to vote for somebody that represents their values even though that person has no capacity to not only win power but to even affect the terms of debate. So, I think ultimately it’s kind of an evolving, downward spiral of political practice and reflects sort of a powerlessness of the left in this moment. I think the Labor Party model was very different and was not about reorganizing the already-existing left. It was about building a broader constituency and using the institutional structures of the labor movement to build a broader class-based constituency that could then enter electoral politics from a position of power rather than a position of “playing politics.”

    Historically, the American left has played an important role in building the labor movement. Labor Party organizers knew that the initiative would attract a broad range of left radicals, from serious party builders to others who might view it mostly as a platform to preach and recruit. How did the party hope to benefit from the best that the left could offer – dedication, militancy, vision, commitment to principle – while also being careful to distance itself from behavior that might alienate the base that the party wanted to attract?

    Party organizers explicitly rejected the adoption of rules and policies that would have excluded or marginalized left organizations or individuals. They felt that many of them would have a role to play in broadening the perspective of the Party and could be a counter weight to narrow and parochial thinking. They felt that their presence would not prove disruptive as long as the party was growing robustly. Once the party began to stagnate, many sectarian organizations stepped in the vacuum and began to dominate internal party debate. This drove other working class activists and labor organizations away and hastened the party’s decline.

    So in your opinion, how can the radical left help rather than hurt party building efforts?

    I think that there’s a model of destructive left sectarianism that played itself out in the Labor Party and in a lot of other social movements. I don’t have a lot experience in that kind of structured left movement-building world, so I could be off on this, but I think it comes from a sort of misguided vanguardism. Somehow the people involved in those movements think that their small party has magically perceived the overall course of the international proletarian movement from start to finish and that there’s an urgency that they have to impose that view and push that on a broader movement. And, in addition, I think you have an elevation of the contradictions with other left sectarian organizations into the primary fight that they have to take up, and this means that they can’t be effective organizers and effective party-builders in a broader movement, and this in fact drives a lot of people away from the process.

    The experience I had that really pointed this out to me was with the New York chapter, which at one point was the largest chapter in the Labor Party. It just fell apart over these kinds of factional debates. They would meet into the night, these chapter meetings would just be endless debates about things, with reams of activist literature, and it just drove people away. It didn’t connect with what they wanted to do and what they saw as the role of the Labor Party.

    The positive experience would be a conception of left politics that would understand that this is a time when we need to develop a real core within a working-class movement, and that they need to listen very carefully to peoples’ felt concerns and life experiences, and integrate that into a broader narrative, and be respectful of the institutions and structures that working people will create in the process.

    When thinking about alternatives to the two-party system, a labor party is not the only option. Ralph Nader’s presidential campaign in 2000 reached a wide audience with a progressive message. The Green Party was on the ascendant in the 1990s and, while it suffered a subsequent decline, it did represent a possible model of a left-liberal third party. We've also seen a wave of new leftwing and even anti-capitalist parties emerge in Europe – SYRIZA in Greece, the Left Bloc in Portugal, and so on. Some of these formations have built up significant influence and achieved double-digit electoral results. For you, what makes the Labor Party model preferable to these alternatives for the U.S,?

    The Green Party has been running independent political candidacies for over 20 years and has very little to show for it. Their experience proves the ineffectiveness of trying to build an anti-capitalist party by running under-resourced candidates in elections. Likewise the multi-year experiences of the various state “Working Family Parties” show that the “fusion approach” of cross-endorsing mainstream candidates has little effect beyond the tactical. These parties inevitably become the creatures of the mainstream parties they seek to influence. The fact remains that only the labor movement has the resources and organizing capacity to launch and maintain an independent class-based political movement. The launching of a labor party remains the great unfinished business of the U.S. working class.

    The experiences of the European and South American left parties are very interesting. However, I would maintain that all of these parties emerge from a milieu of independent class politics and the betrayal of the working class by already existing labor-based parties. They do not reflect the conditions faced by the U.S. working class.

    Can you go into that a bit more, why you don’t think these European and South American models speak to the conditions in the U.S.?

    I’m not a scholar of those movements, so it’s more impressionistic. I’m very excited about some of these European movements on the left. I think they offer a lot of hope. But my impression is that they came together around the betrayal of class politics by already-existing social democratic and left political formations. That isn’t really where we’re at in the U.S. We haven’t yet had a working-class party that could betray the working class. We’re at a much earlier stage of evolution, and while I think that we could learn a lot from the experiences of SYRIZA, I think that it’s a little naïve. They’re on a much different level of understanding and sophistication. We have to build a party around working-class issues that’s broad and encompassing and then there will be struggle. We need to learn from the experiences and particularly the betrayals and the cooption of a lot of the labor-based political parties over the last hundred years. We have to learn from that and try to prevent some of those errors. But to think that we could jump into this post-social democratic party building that’s going on in Europe and to some degree in Latin American, I think, is naïve and overly hopeful.

    What did you think of the Occupy movement? How do you think people who want to rebuild a militant labor movement and an effective left should have related to Occupy?

    Occupy raised fundamental questions about class and power in ways that engaged millions of Americans. Lacking ideological coherence and organizational presence, it has failed to sustain itself as a movement. It represents the triumph of the testimonial style of politics in the American left.

    What did you mean by that, and what would you counterpose?

    We discussed it a little bit earlier, but it’s basically this idea that just by speaking, bearing testimony, bearing truth to power, you start transforming the world. That doesn’t work. It’s an important way to begin to organize people, to get people to stand up and talk to one another about their experiences and the structures and policies that have shaped their lives. We do that when we do healthcare organizing all the time. It’s very effective, but it’s not sufficient. It’s the first step to building a movement, not the end result. A movement has to have the capacity to mobilize people around particular issues in a disciplined way and has to have institutional structures that sustain it through times of quietude. It needs to exist beyond the individual outrage that people feel when they’re victimized by the system.

    PART IV: LOOKING BACK, LOOKING AHEAD

    All things considered, what are the main lessons that you take away from the experience of the Labor Party? What worked and what didn’t, and why? And how do you think the history of the Labor Party is relevant for us today?

    The party-building model works when there is a vital and resurgent labor movement to align it with. It was a mistake to formally launch the Party in 1996. We did not have a critical mass of support within the labor movement nor had we melded together a unified activist core. We would have been better served to continue to define ourselves as an organizing committee (though the pressures to move toward a formal party organization were very great.) We need to encourage a broad and open discussion of Labor Party history and lessons within the labor movement.

    As we discussed earlier, the key issue that divided the Labor Party was the question of whether or not to run candidates early on. Opponents, including Mazzocchi, argued that the party would risk alienating the labor leadership because it would be seen as dividing the Democratic vote. They believed the Labor Party needed to first build enough support to legitimately compete in elections before it could run candidates. Supporters believed the Labor Party could only mature, grow in popularity, and distinguish itself through competing in elections and testing out its vision. Looking back, do you still think that not running candidates right away was the correct position?

    I think that was the only option. I don’t think there was any way we could have run any nationally significant candidate. I mean, maybe in a couple of places we might have run some symbolic candidates. I don’t know if that would’ve changed anything. Towards the end in South Carolina we did really try a model that might have worked had the labor movement continued to grow. That model was based on an understanding that South Carolina was a state where nothing was at stake. It’s not a battle ground state in anyway. The Democratic Party was part of the Right to Work regime in South Carolina, and it’s also been particularly disrespectful of the African-American community which constituted the largest Democratic voting bloc in the state. And so we really felt there was an opportunity to create an alternative for that party in South Carolina that could have been a symbol for other efforts around the country. But we did that too late with too little to really affect the outcome.

    The election issue was central in the party’s internal debates throughout its short history. The history of other third party efforts shows that we were absolutely right to adopt a movement building approach to electoral politics. You can’t build a labor party without the labor movement and extracting labor from all of its instrumental relationships in a two-party winner-take-all political system remains the greatest political challenge of anyone wanting to build a working class politics.

    What do you think was more responsible for the Labor Party’s decline – was it internal problems within the project itself, or was it external circumstances, what you call labor’s strategic defeat?

    Indisputably the strategic defeat of labor at the turn of the century was the major cause of the Labor Party’s decline.

    What criticisms of the Labor Party do you think have been the most valid and what have been the least valid? What do you think the Labor Party got right, and what did it get wrong or not-so-right?

    Our critique of the two parties of the bosses was absolutely spot on. As was our critique of the other failed strategies to building independent working class politics: the reform-the-Democrats crowd, the Green Party approach, the fusion model, and the syndicalisms of the right and left. And our party-building model – rooting ourselves in the network of working class institutions and leaders – will, I think, stand the test of time. We certainly made our share of mistakes. Most of them would not have been fatal, however, if the mid-90’s labor upsurge had continued to build momentum. In that context, we found it impossible to craft a strategy to really extract the labor movement from its instrumental relationships with the Democratic Party. A friend of mine said, you know, we won the ideological war but we weren’t able to translate that into a political reality. We were able to get a huge section of the labor movement to agree that the bosses have two parties and that we need one of our own. But we were not able to translate that into an organizational strategy about how to extract ourselves from those relationships, especially in a time of retreat, when those relationships are particularly important

    Let’s imagine that the Labor Party or something like it was initiated today. What would be the best prospects for an institutional home that could serve the role that the OCAW did before? And what if anything would you do differently?

    There’s not a significant national union in a position to put the kind of resources and organizing capacity into the Labor Party that the OCAW and several other unions did in the 1990s, so that’s why the door is closed right now to that. I think this is a time where we’ve got to reorganize and begin to discuss and debate what it would take to move it forward. I think our fate is inextricably tied to the fate of a broader working-class movement, whether that’s a revitalization of the current institutional labor movement or whether some of that takes place outside of those structures as new movements. I think we’ve got to really position ourselves to them. Working people need a number of things. They need a militant and democratic union. They need an independent political voice. And these things are all kind of intertwined. That makes it really difficult from where we are right now, but no less urgent than before.

    Are you saying that a Labor Party today would need to root itself more in efforts that seek to organize workers in non-traditional ways – workers’ centers, community groups, and the like? Could those kinds of groups play a bigger role that you anticipated in the 1990s?

    We would have to incorporate these non-traditional working class organizations because that is where the center of gravity is moving toward. It’s important to remember, however, that the growth of these groups actually represents a step back for the working class: you can’t bargain with Wal-Mart on a national basis, nor can you protect union supporters in a traditional organizing drive, so you develop a guerilla, hit-and-run style that hopefully can eliminate some of the most egregious practices and sustain an organizing presence. You can’t get the state to enforce its own weak-ass labor laws, so you organize restaurant workers to take direct action against wage theft, and so on. Nonetheless, these initiatives represent a new and hopeful dynamism and there is a slowly developing body of practice that has reached a point where we can begin to understand how to build these movements and scale them up. The immigration rights movement is especially significant since that movement is, at its core, a worker empowerment movement. The biggest danger these movements face is that they will be co-opted by the foundation-types who would push for their integration into the neoliberal consensus and replace class struggle with do-goodism and identity politics.

    What about the question I asked before about what you would do differently this time?

    I think perhaps we should have spent more time building a force of working-class organizers when we were at our peak and most connected to a diverse range of communities and constituencies. We had this educational program called “Corporate Power and the American Dream,” that thousands of unionists and other working-class folks went through. Perhaps we should have emphasized those types of programs more and found more types of projects for those folks to do once they went through the training. That would have created a more on-the-ground presence for us and a more structured set of relationships for working-class activists to connect with each other. We tried some of that, of course. We tried to develop a national campaign around a right to a job, things like that, with varying degrees of success. But I think that a more systematic approach might have been able to leave more of an organizational presence if we had found ways to activate that kind of working-class activist base beyond union jurisdictional lines and implanted it in some working class communities.

    You mentioned the revitalization of the “broader working-class movement” as a precondition for the revival of something like the Labor Party. Labor activists looking to rebuild the union movement today emphasize different strategies. The people at Labor Notes advocate rank-and-file struggle against both employers and traditional union leadership to renew the movement from below. Strategic corporate research tries to demystify how businesses are organized so that labor can construct effective campaigns that target their vulnerabilities. Some emphasize building union density while others focus on mobilizing existing membership. These are just a few visions and they are by no means mutually exclusive. Where does your own vision for rebuilding the labor movement fit in?

    A revitalized labor movement has to be able to do three things: organize the unorganized, practice militant and democratic trade unionism, and represent working class interests in the political realm. These things are beyond the capacity of the current labor movement that can do little more than circle the wagons and defend itself by hurling pieces of its past accomplishments at its opponents. The jury is out over whether the current movement can transform and rebuild itself. It is surely at a tipping point and some of the impetus for change has to come from outside of the traditional labor movement. I think that some of the worker-center and human rights organizing initiatives have accumulated some interesting experiences that we need to begin to sum-up. Likewise, some of the efforts around building international solidarity are beginning to bear fruit and build power and could help bring new life to the movement. A revitalized labor movement is central to anything else we do and our efforts will not be well served if we demonize the “actually existing labor movement” and drive away those who need to be in the room to start any conceivable revitalization project. Nor is it helpful to engage in one-size fits all sand castle building. This crisis is structural, deep seated, and multi-faceted. It will not be solved by embracing the latest facile solution (EFCA! Occupy! Strike! etc.).

    Scott Walker’s victory in the Wisconsin recall last year sparked some soul-searching over the fate of the labor movement. It was a demoralizing situation where 38% of voters from union households supported Walker and labor once again poured millions into the Democratic Party with little to show. What was your assessment of the situation?

    Wisconsin was one more step in labor’s long decline. The fight was probably lost the previous year when Walker was elected governor with control of both houses. The fightback was inspiring and indicative of the depth of support for trade union issues among a broad portion of the working class. Even the 38% figure shows that our weakened, demobilized labor movement still is able to move white working class union families to support progressive issues at a rate that is 15% higher than the general population.

    You currently head up the Labor Campaign for Single Payer Healthcare. Can you talk a little bit about this? How is the fight for single payer healthcare a labor issue?

    The healthcare issue is at the core of the crisis faced by U.S. labor. It is caused by the decline of the collective bargaining regime and the dismantling of the social insurance model. Its solution requires a movement powerful enough to confront and defeat concentrated corporate power and calls into question all of labor’s political relationships and assumptions. Labor leadership on this issue helps bring together the best and the brightest labor activists and helps define the labor movement as a social movement fighting on behalf of the interests of all working people.

    We launched the Labor Campaign for Single Payer just prior to Obama’s first inauguration because we knew that the healthcare issue was going to move to center stage. Many of the conveners were active in the Labor Party’s Just Health Care Campaign. Veteran labor organizer Jerry Tucker (who died in October of 2012) also brought his vast network of contacts to the table. We framed the fight for the right to healthcare as a fight against corporate power and demanded that labor take the lead. At the 2009 AFL-CIO Convention, we succeeded in passing a resolution that puts the Federation back on record as supporting a single-payer, Medicare for all solution to the healthcare crisis facing the working class (they had abandoned this position during the debate over the Clinton healthcare reforms in the early ‘90s). Eleven national unions and nine state labor federations joined the Campaign. We then urged and supported efforts to encourage labor to put real mobilizing muscle behind this support.

    Quite frankly, once the Affordable Care Act was signed into law in 2010, I thought our Campaign would go into decline. Quite the opposite has happened. That we have continued to gain momentum is an indicator of the severity of the healthcare crisis and a growing understanding that the Affordable Care Act will do little to solve it for most working people and, for many unions, it may actually make things worse. We just had our largest ever National Strategy Conference and it attracted some of the bestfighters in the labor movement. Chicago Teachers Union President Karen Lewis was there. She talked to us about building the kind of social movement that beat back Rahm Emmanuel in Chicago. We heard from a trade unionist who worked at the French national healthcare system who made the connections of our fight to the international struggle against austerity regimes. I wish we had the capacity to launch similar campaigns around the right to education, full employment, a working class approach to environmental justice, et cetera.

    I’d like to end by asking you about the prospects for a Labor Party today. Is it still desirable, and moreover, realistic? Do you think we are living in the kind of moment where momentum can be created to build some form of mass labor party? And if so, how would it be the same or different from what you and others envisioned nearly 20 years ago?

    In many ways it would appear that this is the perfect time for a labor party movement to revive. We are in the fifth year of the worst economic downturn since the Depression, working class wages have stagnated for over a generation, inequality is at unprecedented extremes and both major political parties are wedded to neoliberal and austerity politics. Working people are desperate for real solutions.

    Yet there is not a single national union that would commit the resources and organizing focus to a labor party movement in the way that several unions did in the mid-1990s. The failure of the labor party movement is bound up with the crisis and decline of the organized labor movement. The labor party model remains the only plausible way to launch and sustain an effort for independent working class politics. While the challenges are even greater today than they were 20 years ago, the need is also greater.

    There are no shortcuts. The movement to build a labor party is inextricably linked to the project of transforming and revitalizing the entire U.S. labor movement. It is inconceivable to envision almost any progressive initiative succeeding without the support and participation of a vigorous and engaged labor movement. Today, such a movement’s very survival is at stake. As we work to rebuild it, we have an opportunity to correct the policies and strategies that contributed to its failure and to work to assure that a focus on independent working class politics is part of its core identity.

    Mark Dudzic served as the National Organizer of the Labor Party and is currently the National Coordinator for the Labor Campaign for Single Payer Healthcare. He can be reached at mdudzic@igc.org. Derek Seidman teaches history at D'Youville College in Buffalo, New York. He can be reached at seidmand@dyc.edu.

    This interview originally appeared on the New Labor Forum website and an abridged version was published in the January/February 2014 print edition of New Labor Forum.

  • Greco on Chomsky

    ImageAnthony F. Greco. Chomsky’s Challenge to American Power. Nashville: Vanderbilt University Press, 2013. Hardcover $69.95, paper $29.95, e-book $14.99.

    The back cover of this book tells us that Anthony Greco offers “a balanced assessment of the insights and shortcomings of Chomsky's positions on politics and foreign policy.” Greco in fact circumscribes his analysis, omitting Chomsky’s political philosophy and Israel-Palestine from consideration, but there’s more than enough that Chomsky has written on foreign policy and the media to justify a book-length assessment of his work.

    Greco treats Chomsky’s main themes seriously and engages with Chomsky’s political ideas about American power. In looking over some fifty years of Chomsky’s foreign policy writing he asks the entirely reasonable question, which of Chomsky’s claims and analyses have held up in the face of later scholarship and which have not? Greco’s survey is careful and thoughtful, and his notes serve as a useful literature review on recent U.S. foreign policy.

    Greco’s finds that Chomsky has been right about a great deal:

    “Noam Chomsky has been right about a great many important issues during the course of his long career as a public intellectual. He was right to condemn America’s war in Vietnam not merely as a disastrous mistake but as a moral catastrophe…. He was right, too, to point to America’s alliance with repressive regimes throughout the Third World, some of them owing their very existence to US sponsorship. … Chomsky has been a persistent and productive muckraker of American foreign policy for nearly half a century.

    “Chomsky’s critique of the limitations of American democracy—of the concentration of political power in the holders of corporate wealth, and the relative powerlessness and alienation of much of the citizenry—is more relevant than ever in an era of widening economic and political inequality. …

    “Chomsky has also been mostly on target in his criticisms of the US mass media for their servitude to the prevailing orthodoxies of American foreign policy. …

    “Chomsky has also been correct that America’s leaders have continued to pursue global hegemony since the end of Cold War….

    “Chomsky has repeatedly taken up themes that were mostly neglected in the American public arena…. At other times, Chomsky has spoken out on controversies that were very much in the public arena, but his critiques usefully challenged the boundaries of existing debate.” (pp. 207-08)

    Greco also raises many criticisms of Chomsky’s analysis, some of which, in my view, are well-taken, while others are not.

    One recurring criticism that Greco makes is that Chomsky elides the distinction between U.S. complicity in the crimes of others and direct U.S. agency. Chomsky, for example, considered the U.S. government responsible for crimes committed in El Salvador and used the phrase “Carter’s war on the peasantry,” when in fact neither Carter nor U.S. troops killed a single Salvadoran or Guatemalan peasant.

    But I think there’s a moral position being argued here that one may disagree with, but that’s certainly not ludicrous. There is a longstanding debate in philosophy about whether it is just as bad to let someone die as it is to kill them. If X walks by a lake where a child is drowning and could easily save him, but chooses not to, is that as bad as having pushed the child in? Now imagine that the child is drowning because a bully is holding him under water? What is X’s moral responsibility if he could easily save the child from the bully? But let’s go a step further. What is X’s responsibility if the bully was having trouble subduing the child, so X passed him a club with which to pummel the child? And say X also told a passing police officer that it was just some stray dogs fighting, covering up the crime? I think many of us would want to scream out “X, you are responsible!”

    Chomsky often cries out in this way. He lately has taken, for example, to denouncing “U.S.-hyphen-Israeli policies”—not because Israel’s settlement building or displacement of Palestinians has been directly carried out by the United States, but to remind Americans of their responsibility. Without U.S. diplomatic backing and economic and military support there is no way Israel could carry out the policies that it does. “Don’t wring your hands, Obama,” Chomsky is saying, when Israel engages in some egregious act. “If you don’t like it, you can stop it from happening, and if you let it go on, then you are morally responsible.” “Carter, when the archbishop of San Salvador pleads with you to cut off military aid that is being used to wipe out popular organizations, you can’t keep the aid flowing and then lament the atrocities. It’s on you.”

    Now obviously, for some purposes it is crucial to understand the distinction between complicity and agency. But in referring to moral obligations, whether of individual citizens or of leaders, Chomsky believes that when one fails to stop atrocities that one has the power to stop then the distinction between complicity and agency doesn’t matter very much.

    One of Greco’s examples on this score seems particularly unconvincing.  He says that Chomsky “claims that the Bush administration authorized Saddam to crush” the post 1991 Gulf War revolts against his rule. Greco comments: “The claim that Washington authorized Saddam to crush the revolts against his rule is literally false: there was no such communication from Washington to Baghdad.” (p. 178) But in fact it is literally true that the Bush administration through its  highest emissary in Iraq, General Norman Schwarzkopf, authorized—not ordered, but gave permission to—Saddam to fly armed helicopters, which he used to help crush the revolt. Schwarzkopf later claimed he was tricked, he didn’t realize how Saddam intended to use the armed helicopters, and Bush says Schwarzkopf had not been given specific instructions. Crucially, however, when it was clear what Saddam was doing with the helicopters, officials in Washington considered whether “the authority to fly the helicopters be rescinded,” and they decided not to do so.

    Another of Greco’s criticisms is that Chomsky oversimplifies. Chomsky often tells us what the administration did, without referring to the views of Congress or public pressures, and so on. Now every scholarly undertaking involves simplification. When we plot the trajectory of a baseball, we ignore relativistic effects. As a first approximation it is generally sufficient to describe the baseball’s trajectory by invoking the simplifying Newtonian formula f=ma. Likewise it is not necessary when we condemn Japan’s attack on Pearl Harbor that we describe the internal cabinet debates in Japan between the army and the navy, which, had they come out differently would have caused Japan to have attacked the Soviet Union instead of the United States. So, yes, of course, Chomsky simplifies. We all do. The question is whether he oversimplifies. That is, does his failure to describe the partisan debate regarding some foreign policy issue leave out some essential information that would change our conclusions? If one were advancing a strategic plan for how we could best change U.S. foreign policy, identifying the levers of influence open to us, then indeed it might be essential to understand the precise partisan dynamics. But that’s generally not what Chomsky is doing.

    Greco further argues that Chomsky places too much emphasis on economic motives for U.S. policy, to the exclusion of ideology and geopolitics. I think this is probably true, but some of the examples Greco uses to make this point don’t seem compelling. He notes, for example, that U.S. policy in the Philippines was more concerned with its military bases there than with any direct economic stake in the country. That’s correct, but that no more undermines the claim that U.S. foreign policy has economic roots than does the fact that bankers spend some of their money on vaults instead of lending it out at interest prove that they are not motivated by profits.

    I think Greco makes a solid criticism when, in his discussion of Chomsky and Kosovo, he notes that even if top policymakers had no humanitarian motives at all, if some citizens have such motives and they apply pressure to the government, that might have an impact on policy. (p. 184) After all, Chomsky sometimes acknowledges that public pressure can force governments to act in moral ways, as it did in getting Bush to finally offer protection to the Kurds who were being slaughtered by Saddam Hussein in 1991. Note, however, that whether or not this sort of public pressure makes a war just or humanitarian will depend on how well informed the public is. If the public lacks essential information—for example, it doesn’t know what the Kosovo Verification Mission monitors were reporting from the ground—then public humanitarian instincts might not translate into making the war a humanitarian one.

    Chomsky, argues Greco, presents one-sided arguments, for example referring to U.S. behavior as terroristic. “[T]he least meritorious of Chomsky’s attributions of terrorist behavior to the United States in the 9/11 era” involves the threat of starvation in Afghanistan. (p. 195) Greco here relies on others’ analyses, rather than doing any research himself. My own research, however, confirms that Chomsky is quite on target here. The U.S. attack went on even though humanitarian aid organizations and UN officials were calling for a pause in the bombing to enable food to get through before the winter snows made food distribution impossible. U.S. officials ignored these calls. Greco writes that “all the available evidence indicates that American intervention actually facilitated the delivery of food supplies to Afghanistan. In fact, no mass starvation occurred.” That’s true, but misses the point. At the time of the calls for the bombing halt, all U.S. officials, publicly and privately, were expecting the fighting to go on through the spring.

    Allow me to quote myself (see here for footnotes):

    “On October 21, General Richard Myers, the chair of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, stated in a television interview, ‘It may take till next spring. It may take till next summer. It may take longer than that in Afghanistan.’ Two days later, the Pentagon’s Deputy Director for Global Operations told reporters that ‘if it was a perfect world, we’d like to wrap this up before the bad weather moved in. We don’t think that that’s realistic.’

    “On October 26, Deputy Defense Secretary Paul Wolfowitz was asked if it was conceivable that the Northern Alliance could take Kabul before winter. He responded that ‘the right way for us to think is to plan on what could be a long time table.’ Warning against ‘unrealistic expectations,’ Wolfowitz pointed out that ‘people are looking, in my view, for results, dramatic results, much too early.’ No one should be surprised, Wolfowitz told the BBC on October 31, at the tenacity of the Taliban.

    “In late October, Rumsfeld noted that the administration had not ruled out the possibility of sending hundreds of thousands of ground troops to Afghanistan. On November 5, he said he did not expect OEF [Operation Enduring Freedom] to go on for two years, but the next day he explained that this meant it might go on for twenty-three months.

    “It is now known that policy makers were no more optimistic about the timetable in private than they were in public. According to Woodward’s account, on October 9, Cheney was asking ‘[w]here will we be in December and January’ when bin Laden ‘has not been hit, the weather has gotten bad and the operations have slowed?’ The next day, Tenet said it was possible that Kabul could fall before winter, but two weeks later, Rice asked the president, ‘I want to know if you’re concerned about the fact that things are not moving?’ To which Bush replied, ‘Of course I’m concerned about the fact that things aren’t moving!’ On October 25, the Defense Intelligence Agency prepared a highly classified report stating that ‘[t]he Northern Alliance will not capture the capital of Kabul before winter arrives… Barring widespread defections, the Northern Alliance will not secure any major gains before winter.’ Over the next several days, Colin Powell was calling for the training of the Northern Alliance over the winter, so that it could later make progress against the Taliban. On November 9, the day before the strategic city of Mazar-i-Sharif fell, the CIA finally turned optimistic, but the Pentagon still thought things were not going well, and Bush asked his advisers to prepare talking points to explain why the coming of winter did not mean that Washington had failed.

    “When Mazar-i-Sharif did fall, Bush told his advisers, ‘It’s amazing how fast the situation has changed. It is a stunner, isn’t it?’ Woodward commented: ‘Everyone agreed. It was almost too good to be true.’“

    If, as U.S. officials expected, the fighting had gone on into the spring, the U.S. failure to pause the bombing would have led—as the aid organizations warned—to a humanitarian disaster of major proportions. But then the unexpected happened. The Taliban fell in the first half of November, which allowed the food aid to be rushed in, averting starvation. But U.S. officials can’t be credited with having averted the famine, when it was only the unanticipated collapse of the Taliban that prevented catastrophe. An unanticipated positive outcome does not change our moral assessment of an act of reckless disregard. Say you decide to fire your gun in a crowded park. You are warned that there are many children around and that you are risking hitting one of them. Unexpectedly, your bullet hits a rabid dog that was about to attack some of the children. Would this happy but unanticipated outcome change our moral judgment that you acted with reckless disregard? And would we call on those who warned that firing the gun was reckless to admit their error?

    There’s another aspect of Greco’s book that I find much less admirable than his discussion of Chomsky’s main arguments and that is his rather sharp attacks on Chomsky’s integrity.

    Chomsky, says Greco, “too often fails to meet” “minimal standards of intellectual honesty and balance.” (p. 229) “It is obvious,” writes Greco, “that Chomsky’s intellectual integrity is subject to serious question.” (p. 226)

    Greco cites an example of where Chomsky misrepresented Eric Alterman’s views. Clearly, what Chomsky implied about Alterman in the quote in question was untrue. But was this (as Alterman called it) “lies”—that is, intentional untruths—or careless error?* Greco does not indicate that Alterman notified Chomsky of the misstatement and that Chomsky denied or refused to correct the error. How then can one call this, as Greco does, an instance of Chomsky engaging in “fabricat[ing] examples”? (I leave aside Brad DeLong, who uses this example to conclude that Chomsky is the “Stupidest and Most Dishonest Man Alive of All Time”). Anyone who’s done a good deal of writing knows how this sort of error can occur. You see an interesting quote, you write in down, and when you later use it you forget the original context of the quote and thus may cite it inappropriately. This is an error. It is careless. But it is hardly proof of intentional misrepresentation. (Greco said in a talk that there was no way Chomsky could have gotten away with this, which is all the more reason to doubt that it was intentional.)

    Chomsky is one of the most prolific writers in the country, with hundreds of books, and articles, and interviews. If he had even one tenth the rate of errors of other scholars, his total number of errors would be immense. Greco seems to feel that by identifying a dozen or so errors he has demonstrated “a reckless misuse of sources of evidence.” (p. 218) In one case he accuses Chomsky of misrepresenting John Lewis Gaddis, whose text Greco acknowledges was “neither entirely lucid nor particularly cogent.” Greco asks “Could Chomsky have misunderstood?” And he answers: “that interpretation seems rather charitable. Chomsky’s manipulation of text, piecing together a quotation out of two such disparate sentences, is not only improper; it strongly suggests conscious misrepresentation.” (p. 224)

    Two such disparate sentences? The two sentences, separated by ellipses, come from two adjacent paragraphs. Greco himself uses ellipses to indicate the omission of five pages of text (p. 50). The two sentences are quoted out of order, and that is a definite error. But the order of the sentences has no bearing on the meaning as far as I can see, and Greco doesn’t suggest how the reversal changes the meaning. And again anyone who’s done a lot of scholarly writing knows that there is a simple explanation for this error without the need to invoke “conscious manipulation.” Your text has two contiguous quotations from the same source. On a second read-through, trying to streamline your text, you combine the two into one with the use of ellipses, forgetting that the quotes are not in the same order they appeared in in the original. This is an error, it is careless, but no one would do this as a “conscious manipulation” unless they thought they were gaining some advantage from doing so, and, as I’ve noted, I see no difference that the order makes and Greco doesn’t indicate why it does make any difference.

    What I’d like to do is look at a few of Greco’s examples of Chomsky’s misuse of evidence. I do this for two reasons. First, to demonstrate that Chomsky’s error rate is less than Greco charges. And, second, to show that errors and misinterpretation of sources are ubiquitous intellectual hazards, from which no one is immune, including Greco.

    One case Greco raises involves Salvadoran leader Jose Napoleon Duarte, who he says is charged by Chomsky with advance knowledge about the plans to murder a group of American churchwomen in December 1980. This spectacular accusation, says Greco, is “not documented in the pertinent endnote.” (pp. 225-26) So here’s what Chomsky (and co-author Edward Herman) say in the source cited by Greco (Manufacturing Consent, p. 66). After reporting the findings of journalist John Dinges, they report testimony from a Salvadoran officer (I have added red for convenience):

    “In March 1984, Colonel Roberto Santivánez, a high official in Salvadoran intelligence, agreed to ‘talk’ about the death-squad network in El Salvador, and his claims found their way onto CBS News and the front page of the New York Times.61 Santivánez gave highly credible details about the murder of the four women, indicating that the act had been committed on the specific order of Colonel Oscar Edgardo Casanova, who was in charge of the zone in which the killings took place. Colonel Casanova was transferred to another assignment two weeks after the murder as part of the official cover-up. His first cousin Eugenio Vides Casanova, the minister of defense chosen by Duarte and head of the National Guard in December 1980, knew about the murder order by his cousin, as did Duarte. Although this crushing evidence implicating a high officer in the murder and the current minister of defense and Duarte in the cover-up, there was no follow-up to this story….

    “In sum, the leads provided by Dinges, and the testimony of Santivánez, strongly suggest that the killings of the women was based on a high-level decision. The evidence is even clearer that middle-level officials of the government ordered the killings, and that the highest-level officials engaged in a continuing and systematic cover-up.”

    As is clear, Chomsky never says Duarte had “advance knowledge” but that there was evidence that Duarte was told who was responsible and thus that he was involved in the cover-up. If Chomsky were charging that Duarte had advance knowledge, then he wouldn’t suggest that Duarte was part of the cover-up, but that he was actually a co-conspirator. If it turns out that NJ Governor Chris Christie knew about the bridge lane closings before they were put into effect, we wouldn’t accuse him of just participating in a cover-up, but of being more directly responsible for the crime.

    On the subject of Cambodia, Chomsky and Herman commented on their earlier writings thusly:

    “He [Shawcross] cites our one article (The Nation, 1977), in which there is no hint of any such thesis, as there is none elsewhere. In that article we were clear and explicit, as also subsequently, that refugee reports left no doubt that the record of Khmer Rouge atrocities was ‘substantial and often gruesome,’ and that ‘in the case of Cambodia, there is no difficulty in documenting major atrocities and oppression, primarily from the reports of refugees.’112

    Greco claims (p. 235n24) that the “self-quoted phrases come not from the Nation article, as Chomsky and Herman claim, but from the later discussion in” After the Cataclysm. But look carefully at what Chomsky and Herman actually wrote:

     “He [Shawcross] cites our one article (The Nation, 1977), in which there is no hint of any such thesis, as there is none elsewhere. In that article we were clear and explicit, as also subsequently, that refugee reports left no doubt that the record of Khmer Rouge atrocities was ‘substantial and often gruesome,’ and that ‘in the case of Cambodia, there is no difficulty in documenting major atrocities and oppression, primarily from the reports of refugees.’112

    Their footnote clearly gives a page reference to After the Cataclysm and then adds “For some of our comments in the article in question, see p. 290, above.” Now whether on p. 290 they adequately address the criticisms that had been raised of their Nation article is another matter. I don’t think they do. But Greco’s charge that they mis-cited quotes is incorrect.

    Greco cites a Chomsky charge that during the Carter administration the military regime in Argentina served as a proxy for U.S. policy in training the contras. Greco says that this claim is “unsupportable.” I think Greco is right that Chomsky overstates what his sources claim, wrongly concluding that a reference to Argentina serving as a proxy covered the Carter administration as well as the Reagan administration. But I think Greco understates what his sources claim. Greco writes (p. 92):

    “Argentine military intelligence did work with Nicaraguan exiles during 1980 to establish operations in Florida for a counterrevolutionary campaign, and there is evidence that they utilized long-standing CIA contacts in that effort.160 These activities were not sanctioned by the Carter administration; both Carter and his CIA director Stansfield Turner later denied that the administration had supported or funded any of the contra groups eventually sponsored by the Reagan administration.161

    In footnote 160, Greco cites Ariel C. Armony, “Transnationalizing the Dirty War: Argentina in Central America,” in In from the Cold: Latin America’s New Encounter with the Cold War, ed. Joseph Gilbert and Daniela Spenser (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2008). Armony, however, doesn’t refer to some “long-standing CIA contacts”—as though they were rogue elements—but the CIA period. Here’s what Armony says (p. 154, footnotes omitted):

    “. . . evidence indicates that U.S. intelligence knew of the anti-Communist activities of the Argentines and, according to certain sources, independently supported them—even before the Reagan administration decided, to sign on to the Argentine program in Central America. In spite of President Carter’s efforts to curtail the power and leverage of the CIA, the agency supported a hemispheric network of right-wing government officials and independent players united under a mandate of anti-Communism. The CIA collaborated with the Argentine military intelligence service as its operatives established a base of operations in Florida to coordinate the counterrevolutionary program in Central America.

    It is true that Carter and Turner denied U.S. support or funding for the contras, but they didn’t comment on whether there was U.S. knowledge of Argentine paramilitary training going on within the United States, which would be in violation of international law. If they did know about an illegal activity on American soil that they could have closed down but did not do so, then it is not so far off the mark to refer to Argentina as a U.S. proxy.

    Greco says that another example of Chomsky misrepresenting someone’s views is his citing memos written by presidential adviser Arthur Schlesinger Jr. showing that “the fear of Communism was always a total fraud.” Greco writes: “There is nothing in those memos that can reasonably be interpreted as an analysis acknowledging the fraudulence of Americans’ fear of Communism.”

    But Chomsky never said that Schlesinger “acknowledged” that the fear of communism was a fraud, but rather that we “have known” this “for years from the declassified internal record.” Acknowledgment involves self-awareness. Chomsky doesn’t claim that. He claims only that the record allows us to know how policymakers viewed the actual threat. Often, when I read an exam from one of my weaker students, I know from their analysis of a text that their claim to have mastered the material is false. But they haven’t acknowledged that they don’t know anything. They’ve just demonstrated it.

    Here’s what Chomsky said. He first explained that the “pretext up until 1989 was that we had to defend ourselves from this tentacle of the Russian empire [Cuba], which was about to strangle us.” He then went on to say: “The fear of Communism was always a total fraud. We know that have known it for years from the declassified internal record. . . . Historian Arthur Schlesinger submitted secret reports to Kennedy analyzing this and they’re quite revealing.” (Chomsky, Power & Terror, pp. 72-73.)

    Chomsky’s wording is not above reproach here—the word “analysis” is a little confusing—but in any event, the source Greco cites of Chomsky’s is the text of a talk he gave to a political organization, where wording is often imprecise and where obviously one doesn’t document claims. But Chomsky does say in that talk “I’ve written about this in my book Profit over People.” And Greco says that in that book (Profit over People) Chomsky “provided an accurate short description of the Schlesinger memos.” What did Schlesinger say in those memos? Basically he said that the threat from Cuba was “the spread of the Castro idea of taking matters in one’s own hands,” and how “the poor and underprivileged, stimulated by the example of the Cuban revolution, are now demanding opportunities for a decent living.” Regarding the Soviet Union, Schlesinger warned that “the Soviet Union hovers in the wings, flourishing large development loans and presenting itself as the model for achieving modernization in a single generation.” These quotes undermine the claim that what drove the Cold War in Latin America was the threat of Soviet or Cuban aggression. And these hardly seem like evidence of Chomsky’s failing to meet standards of intellectual integrity.

    Greco alleges (p. 225) that “another example of a Chomskian misrepresentation” of someone’s views occurs in his discussion of the historical background to the Kosovo intervention. Chomsky cited respected journalist Tim Judah as suggesting “that the U.S. also gave a green light to the Serb attack on Srebrenica, which led to the slaughter of 7000 people, as part of a broader plan of population exchange. The U.S. ‘did nothing to prevent’ the attack though it was aware of Serb preparations for it.” (Chomsky, New Military Humanism, p. 32) Greco charges:

    “Chomsky’s implication is that Judah reported that the United States in effect preapproved the infamous Srebrenica massacre of July 1994. Chomsky doesn’t tell his readers, however, that Judah at the same time observed that while the United States indeed was acquiescing in ethnic cleansing by the Serbs, no one had foreseen that the Serbs, after moving into Srebrenica, would engage in wholesale slaughter. Chomsky’s use of language here is worth noting: the word ‘attack’ surely connotes the whole of Serb actions in Srebrenica that summer—the occupation of the town and the subsequent massacre.”

    But Greco’s assertion that “the word ‘attack’ surely connotes the whole of Serb actions in Srebrenica that summer—the occupation of the town and the subsequent massacre” is precisely contradicted by Chomsky’s language that Greco asks us to note. If the attack “led to the slaughter,” as Chomsky says, then the slaughter was not part of the attack.

    Yes, it would have been good for Chomsky to have made clearer that neither he nor Judah thought Washington knew about the massacre in advance, but failing to do so is no misrepresentation.

     

    In reviewing half of century of Chomsky’s political writings, Greco finds perhaps a dozen errors and misinterpretations. Even if all of these were real—and they’re not—this is an incredibly low number. But Greco invokes the cockroach principle: “when you see one or two roaches, you tend to assume there are others around that you haven’t seen.” (p. 226)  Given that there is a small army of people engaged in trying to debunk every word Chomsky has written, it’s hard to imagine that there are very many hidden cockroaches. But in any event, the same cockroach principle applies to Greco’s book and to those of many other well-respected authors, all of whom have (far more) errors and misinterpretations, and who are not thereby charged with failing to meet “minimal standards of intellectual honesty and balance.”

    Nothing in Greco’s book demonstrates that Chomsky is worse in this regard than others—indeed, that Greco can find so few errors in such a massive oeuvre suggests that Chomsky is rather better than most. Thus, Greco’s questioning Chomsky’s intellectual integrity seems to me extremely unfortunate, making the book much less likely to encourage the informed debate on Chomsky’s foreign policy ideas that Greco wants and that would be most welcome.

     

    * Update, March 24, 2014: Lawrence Leith has pointed out that when a revised version of Chomsky's essay on the killing of bin Laden was published in book form (9-11: Was There An Alternative? New York: Seven Stories Press, 2011), the reference to Alterman was reworded to eliminate any unwarranted implication. This further undermines Greco's unsubstantiated charge that Chomsky intentionally misrepresented Alterman's views.

  • Militancy, social justice, and democracy: Teachers unions need them all

                             It’s hard for people who have never been on strike to understand how transformative the experience can be, especially if the job is one’s life work.  All of sudden, power relations are reversed. Workers are calling the shots about what they will and will not do.  Life in school is so routinized that anything new can cause shock waves, and a strike by teachers is a tsunami.  Students experience, first-hand, what it’s like when people stand up for their rights and beliefs, defying authority.  What a lesson!

                  Shortly before teachers in the Portland Association of Teachers (PAT), the NEA affiliate in Portland, Oregon narrowly averted a strike, a reader sent me a letter he received from a Portland teacher describing the response of middle school students in his school.  I am sharing it with the author’s permission.  It shows the powerful effect of the strike preparations and why powerful elites so fear teachers unions. 

                  The Portland union fashioned its strategy on the one Chicago’s teachers used. The union leadership  used the contract to defend aspects of  teachers’ work that directly affect learning rather than focusing on salary.  They reached out to parents and used social media. The union leadership expended enormous energy to mobilize members, involving them in the contract fight.  From what I’ve read the union leadership generated tremendous solidarity and passion among PAT members.

                  More and more teachers unions are adopting these strategies.  It’s an important shift. At the same time, a key element in Chicago’s success has been democratization of the union structures and reinforcement of democratic norms.  Was the same true in Portland?  That’s a question not discussed in coverage I’ve read on the Left and the absence of attention to union democracy is problematic. 

                  One question we should always ask is how the demands were decided and how the  bargaining team was formed?  Was the team elected by the membership?  How was it made representative of member opinion? The contract campaign is an opportunity to deepen the membership’s participation in decision-making.   Did that happen in Portland as it did in Chicago, which had an elected bargaining team of dozens of people and spent months gathering, refining, and voting on contract demands?

                  Another question we should ask is how discussion and ratification of a proposed settlement occurs.  Is the discussion organized so that union officers “sell” the proposed settlement to members – or does the process encourage members to raise questions, concerns, and problems? It will be members who have to defend the contract, so having their involvement in developing specifics of the final agreement is essential to what occurs after ratification. In Chicago, in the midst of a strike, the negotiating team brought the proposed agreement to the union’s representative assembly, which refused to endorse it before taking it back to members for a closer look.  I think that has to be the bar to which we hold unions.

                  As is demonstrated by SEIU’s shocking suit against individual dissidents who formed an independent union (NUHW) when threatened by a takeover, unions must have protocols and policies that support member power. Not just voice – power.  A social justice program combined with member mobilization isn’t enough.  We need the synergy of ideas and leadership from above and leadership and power from below.  Democratic norms and procedures make that happen.

    Is there a subject you want me to tackle? Let me know. You can follow me on twitter and Facebook, as well as my blog every Wednesday here at New Politics.  Or write me at drweinerlo@gmail.com.  Now out – "Class Action" – with much to read that can help grow "Chicago" elsewhere. Ideas – not a blueprint…