Ukraine Labor Law Reform Campaign

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We stand in solidarity with the people of Ukraine, fighting a brutal invasion by Putin’s Russia.  We wish their people’s resistance victory over this criminal aggression.

However, it is with dismay that we learn–right in the middle of their life-and-death struggle—that Ukraine’s working people have come under attack on a second front: laws attacking their labor rights and working conditions have been passing through the Ukrainian parliament.

The latest and worst of these, Laws 5371 and 5161, were adopted on July 19.

This petition explains how the Laws would destroy Ukrainian workers’ rights and working conditions if they were allowed to come into effect.

They would legalize extremes of exploitation in Ukraine that would also endanger workers’ rights across the whole of Europe.

One man has the power to stop this disastrous legislation—President of Ukraine Volodymyr Zelenskyy. He can ratify the laws or veto them.

Since it is vital that Laws 5161 and 5371 not be ratified, this petition calls on President Zelensky to stand with Ukraine’s workers by exercising his presidential veto on both laws.

They must be replaced with measures which would increase the security of workers and enable them and their families to survive the devastation of war and build a new and stronger Ukraine.

Demand that President Zelenskyy act! Sign the petition here! Send it to your networks!

President Zelenskyy must veto anti-worker Laws 5161 and 5371!

Dear President Zelenskyy,

Expressing our sincere solidarity with the people of Ukraine in the face of Russian aggression, we members of European and global trade unions call on you to impose your presidential veto on newly adopted controversial Laws 5371 and 5161. Otherwise, millions of workers could lose their protection against abuses by employers.

Law 5161 (introducing “zero-hour” contracts) and Law 5371 (“On Amendments to Certain Legislative Acts to Simplify the Regulation of Labour Relations in Small and Medium Enterprises and Reduce the Administrative Burden on Entrepreneurship”) were approved in their second reading by the Ukrainian Parliament on July 19.

We are concerned that the possible implementation of these Laws will result in effective abolition of important labour rights and some of the very last protections safeguarding workers against the arbitrary actions of employers, cases of which have become more frequent in this time of war and economic downturn.

If Law 5371 is ratified, a new chapter III-B entitled “Simplified regime regulating labour relations” will be added to the Labour Code of Ukraine, allowing employers to “contractually curtail” workers’ rights in enterprises employing up to 250 workers—in other words the rights of the vast majority of employees.

For workers, the “simplified regime” will mean arbitrary dismissals, overtime work on spurious grounds, or ignoring collective agreements in terms of wage payment. It will also jeopardise workers’ possibilities to unionise and to defend their rights via trade unions.

Under current circumstances, the adoption of these Laws, which have been strongly criticised by both Ukrainian and international trade unions, would aggravate social inequality and hamper social dialogue. Furthermore, it may also undermine Ukraine’s prospects for European integration.

The Parliamentary Committee on Ukraine’s Integration into the European Union has found Law 5371 to be inconsistent with the minimal social standards of the European Association Agreement. Nor does it comply with the conventions of the International Labour Organization (ILO).

It does not meet a number of minimum standards enshrined in the Charter of Fundamental Rights of the European Union, the European Social Charter (revised) and other European Union regulations.

It also violates standards stipulated by the ILO Conventions No. 132, No. 135, No. 158, and even founding Convention No. 1 (1919), on the limitation of working hours in industrial enterprises to 8 hours a day and 48 hours a week.

We, the undersigned, therefore respectfully urge you to consider the already precarious situation of workers in Ukraine and use the presidential veto on Laws 5161 and 5371. Rejection of this legislation will ease the burden on millions of Ukrainians already suffering from the brutal Russian invasion, and so help strengthen their resistance to it.

Sign here.

On Contradiction: Mao’s Party-Substitutionist Revolution in Theory and Practice – Part 4

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“The Reddest Reddest Red Sun in Our Heart, Chairman Mao”
(Women xinzhong zuihong zuihongde hong taiyang Mao zhuxi he women xin lianxin)

This is the final part of a four-part article. The other parts can be found here:

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

VI. “LIBERATION”: THE SUBSTITUTE PROLETARIAT IN POWER

When Mao’s Communist “party of the proletariat” swept into the cities from 1947-1949 this would have been the opportune moment for the substitute proletariat to validate its claim to be the “representative” of the proletariat by inviting the actual proletariat to become the “masters of the country” that CCP propaganda claimed they were. After abandoning the urban proletariat in 1927, the returning Party trumpeted extravagent pro-labor rhetoric and widely advertised their “New Democracy” as being under “the leadership of the proletariat.” Official pronouncements hailed the workers as the “masters of the country” (guojia de zhuren), the “leading class” (lingdao jieji), and said that they should rightfully “take charge” (dangjia zuozhu).[107]

The substitute proletariat confronts the actual proletariat

Many workers and unions took those pledges seriously. Thus as Mao’s armies approached the cities, here and there workers rose up against their capitalist bosses and took over their factories. A reporter from the Trotskyist journal The Militant described what happened in April 1949 :

From a worker, just escaped from Jinan (capital of the Shandong province), we learn of this horrible incident: As the ‘liberating army’ approached, the workers in his factory instinctively understood that it was time to liberate themselves. They drove out the boss and set up a factory committee to control production. They were immediately visited by a Stalinist political worker who demanded to know who was responsible for this action. The workers replied that they had decided in common to liberate themselves. He then insisted that the committeemen follow him to headquarters. There they were chained together and led to a courtyard where they were massacred wholesale by a firing squad. The factory was then returned to the frightened owner….

In another factory where a strike broke out for the simple economic demand of equal treatment, “the strike was brutally crushed by the Stalinists and three strikers stood up before a firing squad…”[108] In a third case,

An order was issued to the Sun Sun Textile Factory No. 9 to dismantle and move to Manchuria. Workers barricaded themselves in the plant to resist. Troops of the Stalinist “liberating” army were sent to carry out the order. A bloody clash ensued in which 10 workers were killed or wounded and three soldiers killed.[109]

The workers failed to understand that the Communist Party’s revolution was not for the proletariat. It was a military conquest and capture of the country of, by, and for the substitute proletariat “new class,” the Communist Party. The class that led the revolution and seized power in the name of the proletariat was not interested in sharing power, least of all with the workers. So it took immediate steps to suppress labor militancy while permiting the capitalists to continue running their factories until those were nationalized in 1956.

Thus in February 1948 as his armies prepared to cross the Yellow River, Mao declared that the party’s policy in the newly liberated cities would be devoted to “developing production, promoting economic prosperity … and benefiting both labor and capital.” As his armies captured the city of Luoyang, Mao telegramed the Luoyang front leaders to give them instruction:

On entering the city do not lightly advance slogans of raising wages and reducing working hours, . … Do not be in a hurry to organize people of the city to struggle for democratic reforms and improvements in livelihood.[110]

Before the fall of Shanghai, Tianjin, and other cities, Mao and General Zhu De issued a proclamation stating in part:

It is hoped that workers and employees in all trades will continue to work and that business will operate as usual … and obey orders of the PLA and People’s Government.”[111]

In 1949-50 the government issued labor regulations that prohibited strikes and mandated mediation and arbitration by the government-controlled Labor Bureau.[112] Banning strikes violated the principles and propaganda of the CCP in its first decade. The First Manifesto of the CCP (June 1922) included the demand : “Freedom to strike” as did subsequent editions. The Canton Commune of 1927 called for “the right to organize and strike.[113] But that was when the Party was still a majority proletarian party.

“Our golden age, our age of glory and splendor, lies before us!”

The program of the substitute proletariat

Mao did not think in terms of classes but of nations. In his view China was a “proletarian nation” and he, its heroic leader, the “force that will not stop, that cannot be stopped” its Great Savior, Great Helmsman, and Red Sun. Thus his first priority was to secure the dictatorship of the substitute proletariat.

Construction of the totalitarian police state

Once the communists seized power, they dispensed with the multi-class New Democracy they had been promising since the 1930s, and installed a police state modeled on Stalin’s, replete with military regimentation of the civilian population, mass brainwashing, secret police, forced labor camps, mass executions of real and imagined “counterrevolutionaries,” invasive state control over private lives including housing, jobs, birth control, children, school curriculums, etc., and decades of crazed political campaigns one after another to crush all real or imagined opponents and to cow the general population into submission.

First up: “elimination of counterrevolutionaries.” Who were those? Immediately after liberation the entire population were assigned class labels (chengfen), one of roughly 60 in all, based on their family background, education, occupation, prerevolutionary employment, prior employment by the GMD or suspected sympathy with the GMD or Western imperialists, etc. This information was noted in the new dossiers, also copied from Stalin, which would follow a person for the rest of his or her life.[114] “Good” classes included revolutionary cadres, soldiers, industrial workers, and poor peasants. “Middle” (dubious) classes included petty bourgeois, middle peasants, and intellectuals. “Bad” classes included landlords, rich peasants, and capitalists. But these were shortly collapsed into “red” vs. “black”– revolutionaries and counterrevolutionaries. What’s more, the labels were inherited.[115] In this way, the children and their children have suffered discrimination and worse for the alleged crimes of their parents or grandparents – down to this day.[116] The purpose of all this was to “struggle” against the counterrevolutionaries, “remold” those who were salvageable, and imprison or kill the rest.

The struggle against counterrevolutionaries got underway in the rural base areas occupied by the Communists as the Civil War began in earnest in 1946. Mao directed cadres to launch all-out class war in the countryside. CCP work teams divided villagers into five classes: landlords, rich peasants, middle peasants, poor peasants, and laborers, mirroring Stalin’s system in the USSR. The Party determined that at least 10 percent of the rural population were landlords or rich peasants – hence class enemies, counterrevolutionaries.[117] But village realities defied such crude distinctions. Never mind that there were great regional and even local differences based on climate, ecology, crop patterns, soil fertility, proximity to urban centers, local custom, indebtedness, subsidiary industries, and other factors that contributed to the economic condition of individual farm families. In some provinces such as Shanxi, Shaanxi, Hebei, Shandong, and Henan, peasant proprietors constituted two-thirds of farm families. Around the great urban centers in the Guangdong delta and Yangtze deltas, 85-95 percent of the farmers were tenants – but most to absentee landlords who resided in the cities, and those absentee owners were often collectives: clans, temples, clubs, etc. rather than individuals. So very often there were no landlords in the villages to struggle against. In other areas, seasonal farmwork was almost all done by hired labor — but many laborers were often as not migrants, not local villagers.[118]

Liu Binyan, the future renowned investigative journalist, was a young Party cadre working in land reform near Harbin in 1947 where he both witnessed and participated in atrocities. “The leader of our team gave orders to tie up a landlord and beat him. They tried to force him to confess that he had ties to local bandits, and had hidden arms and ammunition. The man denied everything and was beaten to a pulp. It was the first time I had witnessed such a scene. I could not interfere; I could only look the other way…. The landlord was just a miserable wretch who owned about an acre of land. But every village had its target of class struggle to arouse class consciousness, and that landlord served the purpose.” He adds “I felt quite ashamed…. I thought it was important to divide the land among the peasants…. But there were also landowners who had, through a lifetime of hard work, scrimped and saved to buy up small plots of land. There were of course also loafers among the landless peasants.”[119]

None of this mattered to Mao or to Kang Sheng, Liu Shaoqi, and Deng Xiaoping whom he had assigned to oversee the land reform campaigns in different regions. Kang demanded that every villager take a stand. Quotas were set for landlords and rich peasants to be found in every village and punished. The accused were often dragged out onto a stage where they could be ferociously denounced by crowds of villagers, beaten, sometimes gruesomely tortured and often killed in “struggle sessions.” Xi Zhongxun (father of Xi Jingping) reported the cruelties to Mao in January 1948: “People are drowned in vats of salt water. Some have boiling oil poured over their heads and burn to death.” Liu Shaoqi reported that “when the masses fight, they beat, torture and kill people, and right now it is out of control.” “People were buried alive, dismembered, shot, and strangled to death. Sometimes their bodies were hung from trees.”[120] Land reform turned into an orgy of violence across the countryside.

In preparing to launch land reform in the south in June 1950, Mao declared that land reform is war, “the most hideous class war between peasants and landlords. It is a battle to the death.”[121] The party proceeded accordingly: The reign of terror against local leaders in the south was accompanied by onerous grain requisitions that incited mass protests and rebellions against the Communists. Famished peasants stormed government warehouses and transport boats to retrieve their grain. Some seized arms from local police. Hundreds of villages turned against the government. By March 1950 internal documents reported that dozens of “relatively large rebellions of a mass character” had rocked Hubei.[122] The rebellions were crushed with extensive loss of lives.

Why all this violence and killings? After all, as Frank Dikötter points out, land reform was carried out peacefully in post-war Japan, South Korea, and even Taiwan under Chiang Kai-shek, and no blood was shed. In Taiwan large landlords were compensated by the government with commodity certificates and stocks in state-owned industries for their farms, which were redistributed to the tillers. Land reform in north China had been carried out in the midst of Civil War so some violence might have been expected. But in the south, where the campaign did not begin until June 1950, the war was over and yet Mao’s campaign was if anything even more violent. Even Stalin, who himself had massacred the kulaks in 1928 and sent two million to Siberia, cautioned Mao in 1950 to pull back, limit the struggle to landlords only, and leave the economy of the rich peasants intact to help China’s post-war recovery.[123]

Mao wasn’t listening. Dikötter argues that “Mao wanted traditional village leaders overthrown so that nothing would stand between the people and the party … [and] unlike the Soviet Union where the security organs had liquidated the kulaks, Mao wanted the villagers to do the job themselves … [to break the village social bonds of solidarity and reciprocity] by “pitting a majority against a minority. Only by implicating the people in murder could they become permanently linked to the party…. Everybody was to have blood on their hands through participation in mass rallies and denunciation meetings.”[124] Between 1947 and 1952 when land reform was shut down, an estimated 1.5-2 million rural Chinese had been killed.[125] The terror crushed open resistance but depressed agricultural production.

Engineering human souls

Mao launched the first of his many terror campaigns in the cities with the Thought Reform campaign launched in October 1950 to “wash the brains” of the entire population. The campaign began with the intellectuals first because of their suspect bourgeois and petty bourgeois backgrounds and their role in education, culture, and social development. The Party applied the same methods as in Yan’an: Teachers, professors, students, scientists, journalists, and writers were all forced to submit to intensive indoctrination classes, public examination of family histories, self-criticism, confessions, and self-abasement to induce guilt and remorse until all resistance was crushed, until they “felt as if they were reborn” and sincerely expressed their gratitude to the Party for their redemption. Students were encouraged to “draw a line between themselves and their parents.” For thousands the only way out was suicide. “Student suicides happen incessantly” internal documents reported.[126] In 1950, Hu Sidu, son of Hu Shi, a liberal leading-light of the May Fourth Movement, denounced his father, calling him “a public enemy of the people and an enemy of myself.” In 1957 Hu Sidu himself was labeled a “rightist” and driven to suicide.[127]

The government hounded and persecuted non-communist teachers, artists, and musicians, even those who had been sympathetic to the Party. Those who only had their careers destroyed got off easy. Hundreds of thousands were publicly denounced, imprisoned, and sent to labor camps. Teachers were arrested and killed. Professors committed suicide.[128] Chinese and Western books were incinerated. Dikötter writes that “With the literary inquisition came a great burning of books.” In Shanghai some 237 tons of books were reportedly destroyed in 1951. In the former treaty port Shantou in May 1953 a giant bonfire lasting three days consumed 300,000 volumes representing ‘vestiges of the feudal past.’”[129] Western classical music was suppressed. Jazz was banned outright as degenerate, decadent. Popular music was replaced with the “Hymn to Chairman Mao,” “The favors of the Communist Party are too many to be told,” “Brother and sister plough the Wasteland” and similar hit tunes. In the Great Terror of 1951, Buddhism, Taoism, Catholicism, Protestantism, and Islam were suppressed, monks beaten, killed, sent to reeducation camps, and their books and institutions destroyed.[130]

China’s gulags

Chiang Kai-shek’s China had nowhere near enough prisons to meet Mao’s needs. So in the late nineteen-forties and early fifties, the government built new ones and established its own gulag archipelago of laodong gaizao or “reform through labor” camps (laogai for short) modeled on Stalin’s gulags There were somewhere between a thousand and fifteen hundred of them situated in every province. Millions were interned and put to forced labor in road building, mining, reservoir excavation, and opening up new farmlands.[131] Many were simply worked to death. As the government explained:

Except for those who must be exterminated physically due to political considerations, human beings must be utilized as a productive force with submissiveness as the prerequisite. Laogai units force prisoners to labor. The Laogai’s fundamental policy is, “Forced labor is the means, while thought reform is the basic aim.”[132]

Unsurprisingly, Mao professed enthusiasm for the economic advantages of slave labor and called for more laogai. “The large number of people who are serving their sentences is an enormous source of labor … they [the laogai] should be expanded.”[133]

Wang Bing’s eight-hour long film Dead Souls walks the viewer through former prison camp fields in Gansu province, turning over the exposed bleached bones and skulls of dead inmates and interviews dozens of elderly survivors of the more than a half-million Chinese intellectuals, teachers, critically thinking cadres and anyone deemed to have an independent mind who were imprisoned in the Anti-Rightist campaign of 1957, most starving to death.[134]

West North Korea

Life outside the gulags in China in the 1950s was somewhat freer but day-to-day repression was intense. Every aspect of one’s personal and work life was soon regulated by the state.[135] As capitalist enterprises were taken over, all jobs were assigned by the government. Living quarters were likewise assigned. Free mobility was abolished as workers were tied their work units (danwei ) which also provided housing, food rations, schooling, medical care, and so forth. Peasants were yoked to their farms by the hukou system that tied access to their food and clothing rations, schooling, medical care, and so on to the farmer’s place of residence. The government nationalized all schools and colleges, imposed its own Maoist curriculum. Compulsory political education was introduced in all work units, schools, and government offices. Newspapers and other media were replaced with thought control and propaganda. Loudspeakers were installed indoors and out across the country to blast out orders, propaganda, and patriotic music. Work life and even leisure were regimented and militarized. Political meetings consumed so much time that teachers, workers, and staff suffered from “extreme fatigue.” [136]

Thought reform campaigns encouraged colleagues to denounce each other, children to denounce their parents, parents to denounce each other, other family members, and friends.[137] Thus the Shanghai Liberation Daily of June 22, 1954, praised workers who “reported suspicious acts amongst friends. This shows that the political consciousness of the masses is being continuously raised.”[138] The despised criticism-self-criticism sessions were extended to workplaces to deflect criticism from the government itself and instill fear and docility before the police state.

Shortly after liberation, Mao announced his latest brilliant correct idea: “Every mouth comes with two hands.” In other words, the more people the more labor power the faster the economy will grow. So the government’s natalist policy banned abortion and by 1952 “contraceptive devices disappeared from the market.”[139] Predictably, the population exploded, nearly doubling in a decade while industrial and agricultural productivity plummeted, presenting Deng Xiaoping with the need in 1981 to come up with some new correct ideas: capitalism plus forced abortions and the one-child policy.

In short, “liberation” turned the country into the largest open-air minimum security prison camp on earth, sprinkled with gulags where millions languished in far worse conditions. Think North Korea, which Kim Il-Sung modeled after Mao’s China. That’s what Mao’s China looked like. As the bamboo curtain was drawn around the country in the early fifties, its borders were sealed. In Mao’s day, the only way to get out of China was to swim to Hong Kong, take a row-boat or a secret trail. In the 1950s and 60s more than million refugees did just that.

Today, after a few decades of comparative relaxation, retro-Maoist Xi Jinping has revived the lockdown nation as well as systematic invasive police-state control and manipulation of every aspect of Chinese lives again. Weibo critics call Xi’s China “West North Korea.” Xi’s repression is driving another generation of Chinese, at least those with means, to flee the country again. They call this runxue or “run philosophy” [a bilingual amalgam of the English “run” with the Chinese “xue”, learning] – researching how to run away from China.[140] Many of those who can’t find a way to escape describe themselves as “the last generation” because they’re refusing to have children. One Weibo user under the hashtag “#thelastgeneration” says “Not bringing children to this country, this land, will be the most charitable deed I could manage.”[141]

Self-reliant development by means of accumulation and its consequences

Mao’s second priority was to industrialize China and “overtake the US.” He was motivated to pursue this goal for two reasons: First, national chauvinism: Mao sought to surpass the West to reclaim China’s “rightful place” as the premier civilization and culture of world history, the natural leader of the world, while winning ever-lasting glory for the Communist Party, regardless of the costs to China’s masses. Speaking to the Preparatory Meeting for the CCP’s Eighth Party Congress (1956-58), Mao said:

We are going to catch up with to the strongest capitalist nation on Earth, America. America has 170 million people, we have several times that number, plentiful resources, and a similar climate; catching up is possible. Should we catch up? Of course we should, or else what are you 600 million people doing? Are you asleep? Should you be sleeping, or working? … If you can’t catch up you don’t deserve any glory, and you don’t deserve to be called mighty…. If in 50 or 60 years you still can’t catch up with America, what’s the matter with you? You deserve to have your membership in the human race revoked![142]

Second: imperialism. Mao and the Party aimed not merely to industrialize but to do so as self-sufficiently as possible. To some extent self-sufficiency was imposed on them by the trade blockade imposed by the United States in 1950. But it was also the preferred option for Mao as with Stalin and for the same reason: China, and Russia were communist nations in a sea of global capitalism. To maintain their independence and prevent the capitalists from taking over their economies, they needed to be as self-reliant as possible. That’s why Mao pursued a near autarkic development strategy. That’s why Deng Xiaoping invited Western investors to modernize his economy but limited their investments to certain sectors and banned them from the commanding heights of the economy. Further, Mao and Stalin both understood that ultimately, their only guarantee of security was to achieve economic and military superiority over the United States. When the Soviets lost their economic and arms race against the United States in the 1980s, the Soviet Communist Party collapsed in December 1991 and the Soviet Union disintegrated. Deng and his successors, notably Xi Jinping, have been determined to avoid that error. That’s why Xi is suppressing the private sector, pushing back against Western demands to open new sectors for Western investment, and even driving many Western companies out of China.

The Bolsheviks understood that however fortunate their success in seizing power in 1917, they could not build socialism in largely pre-industrial Russia without massively exploiting the Russian workers and peasants to extract the surpluses to pay for industrialization as the capitalists had exploited the proletariat of England and slaves of the colonies to accumulate the capital to industrialize England. That’s why they tried to help the German revolution in hopes that a socialist revolution in Germany would enable them to hitch the Russian train to the “German locomotive.” As Trotsky put it “We place all our hopes upon the revolution igniting the European revolution. If the rising of the peoples of Europe does not crush imperialism, we will be crushed … that is certain.”[143] When the European revolutions failed the Bolsheviks were not overthrown, but they were thrown back on their own resources with fatal consequences for millions of Russian peasants.

Whether such an internationalist strategy was feasible in the immediate post-WWII era is an open question. In fact, the great wave of post-war anti-colonial revolutions was only then just beginning so who knows? Yet even if the prospects for world revolution were slim at that moment, Mao’s Party could have sat down with China’s workers and peasants and put the question to them: “Should we pursue high-speed economic development that will necessitate great sacrifices from you, probably for many decades, in order to furnish the surpluses to underwrite high-speed industrialization, or, should we pursue a ‘Bukharinist’ New Economic Policy (NEP) strategy of development with tolerance for markets, that would give us some growth while enabling you to avoid undue exploitation and gradually improve your living standards?”

But the Great Savior-dictator was a nationalist, fiercely hostile to democracy as we’ve seen, and vaingloriously ambitious. The Great Teacher also knew little about economics. Worse, he ignored and criticized his own economic team of Bo Yibo, Chen Yun, Li Fuchun, and Deng Zihui who knew something about economics and urged him to slow the pace of economic growth and adopt a kind of Bukharinist NEP.[144] Even Joe Stalin warned him in September 1952 not to be “rash.” But Mao was having none of it. He was philosophically an idealist and a voluntarist. On June 15, 1953, he told the Politburo that

The general line … of the party for the transition period is basically to accomplish the industrialization of the country and the socialist transformation of agriculture, handicrafts, and capitalist industry and commerce in ten to fifteen years, or a little longer. … Do not depart from this general line, otherwise ‘Left’ or ‘Right’ mistakes will occur.[145]

As always, Mao was full of himself and confident that he alone voiced the “correct line.” But his idealist voluntarist fantasies could not overrule reality: Self-industrialization could only be based on systematic, ruthless, and long-term exploitation of China’s workers and peasants as Stalin had done in Russia. Despite the strong strategic differences with Stalin, the CCP had nowhere else to turn, and so looked to the Soviet Union for aid and modeled its own industrialization strategy after the Russians’. Industrial expansion had been predicated on three sources of finance: Soviet aid, self- accumulation out of industry, and taxation of agriculture. As it turned out, Soviet credits and technical assistance, while critical to certain key industrial projects, were far less than expected. And they were loans, not grants. China’s industrial sector provided roughly 50% of the state’s budget revenues in those years. But the industrial base was tiny so it alone could not provide much. Consequently, Mao’s strategy of industrialization depended crucially on accelerating agricultural output over and above population growth and taxing the surpluses to support industry.

Peasants resist surplus extraction

Those expected agricultural surpluses failed to materialize. In the first place, the extremely low productivity of Chinese agriculture meant that, by and large, the massive surpluses needed for industrialization did not exist in the Chinese countryside. For example, Chinese per capita grain production in 1952 stood at less than half that of the Soviets in 1928 (220 vs. 480 kilograms per annum).[146] This meant that there could be no question in China of a purely extractive solution to the grain crisis: the Party could not simply go and seize huge surpluses from rich peasants, as Stalin did In Russia from 1928. Secondly, the new government lacked the industrial capacity to supply tractors and other industrial inputs to boost productivity. Thirdly, it faced peasant resistance to state surplus extraction.

In short, with respect to the peasantry, the state was caught in a double bind: it aimed to be developmental and extractive at once. To industrialize, to build steel plants, to produce tractors and other machinery, the state needed both to maximize agricultural output to skim off surpluses from agriculture to support industry and an industrial labor force. So agricultural collectivization had a two-fold aim: to boost output through cooperative and economies of scale, and to centralize surplus extraction by preventing peasant hoarding. But taking away the peasants surpluses not only undermined their capacity to reinvest to expand output, it threatened their very subsistence. A policy that demanded sacrifices with little hope of gain in the near future would tend to provoke their resistance. Consequently each attempt by the state to step up taxation and collectivization was met the peasant opposition.

The First Five-Year Plan set targets for increased grain output of up to 6.5% per year (1953-57). But far from providing a surplus, actual growth rates (of around 1.7% to 2.0%) barely kept pace with population growth.[147] Similarly, cotton production declined by 9.3% in 1954. Low government-set prices for these staples meant that the peasants had little incentive to produce them.[148] Thus they tended to cut back on production and conserve their surpluses. The output of farm subsidiary industries also stagnated or fell. The government reported that between July 1954 and July 1956, 17 million pigs were lost. Again, the peasants preferred to slaughter their pigs rather than market them at low prices or turn them over to the collectives.[149] By the mid-1950’s, the situation had reached crisis proportions. There were increasingly sharp ”grain crises” in 1953, 1955, and 1956 resulting in widespread food shortages in the cities. The lack of agricultural raw materials brought some industries, such as textiles, to a virtual standstill, and undermined accumulation.

Yet instead of backing off, Mao’s response at every point was to accelerate collectivization to squeeze more surpluses out of the peasants. During the 1950’s, the state sponsored a series of so-called “socialist upsurges” (the 1950-52 land reform, the 1952-53 mutual-aid campaign, the 1954-55 cooperativization campaign, and the 1955-56 collectivization drive). To each, the peasants responded by cutting production, slaughtering or neglecting their livestock, felling orchards, stopping fertilizer collection, and fleeing the land for the cities.[150] Each advance and the reaction forced the state to retreat, at least partially and temporarily. But with each next stage Mao wrenched the screws tighter.

During the second phase, in November 1953 the government imposed a state monopoly on grain to confiscate peasant surpluses. Whereas previously farmers could sell their surpluses on the market and pocket the profits, under the new “unified purchase and sale” system, farmers were allowed to consume only 13-16 kilos per head per month of their own grain – a bit over half the required amount to provide 1,700 to 1,900 calories per day – i.e. a less than subsistence diet. In response, across the country peasants protested shouting “Down with Mao Zedong!” “Eliminate the People’s Liberation Army,” “Better rebel than die from starvation.” The state responded, as usual, with more violence. In 1954 the government was taking more food from the peasants than ever before and as a result “famine gripped large parts of the countryside” and it was reported that desperate peasants were selling their children. In January 1954 the Central Committee warned that peasants were being driven to starvation. Farmers were destroying their tools, felling trees and slaughtering their livestock. “Some openly rebelled as pitched battles were fought between villagers and the security forces.”[151]

In the early months of 1955 Deng Zihui, then regional boss of south China who had calculated that the peasants had a third less food than before liberation, starting letting some co-operatives disband. Others in the leadership including Deng Xiaoping supported this relaxation. Mao initially acquiesced to this setback but soon renewed his attacks on “negative attitudes toward collectivization.” In May he declared that “middle peasant claims of hardship are all fake.”[152]

A common response to collectivization was to flee to the cities and in 1954 farmers were fleeing the countryside en masse. But in June 1955 the Maoists cut off that exit by extending the household registration system used in the cities since 1951 to the countryside. On top of that, food was rationed from 1955 and without a ration card, which was valid only in one’s official place of residence, peasants who fled to the cities were denied food rations. That effectively tied China’s 120 million farm families to their land, virtually as state serfs, just as urban residence permits tied the workers to their danwei. This was the fourth stage of collectivization.[153]

In July, Mao pushed back at Deng Zili and Deng Xiaoping and called for a new campaign to accelerate the transition to socialism in just three years. In prose reminiscent of his 1926 investigation in Hunan he told the Central Committee

A hurricane in the new socialist mass movement will soon sweep across the villages throughout the country. But some of our comrades are tottering along like a woman with bound feet, constantly complaining about the others: too fast, too fast! … No! This is not the correct policy, it is a wrong policy.[154]

Again, the Great Helmsman insisted that he alone had the “correct policy.” But 1957 was not 1927. In the “mighty storm” of the nineteen-twenties the peasants were overthrowing their landlords and seizing the lands they farmed to improve their lot, whereas in the 1950s Mao’s “hurricane” aimed to dispossess them, expropriate the private property they had been granted by the same Mao Zedong in the land reforms of 1947-52, and collectivize not only their land but their means of production and even their housing. Despite his rhetoric, Mao knew very well that the peasants would not accept this dispossession voluntarily. Collectivization would thus require a new “war”– this time against the peasants instead of landlords. On August 15, 1955, speaking before the assembled heads of all provinces and large cities, Mao condemned Deng Zihui’s order to slow the pace of collectivization, reiterating that

A tottering pace in collectivization suits the rich peasants, it conforms to the capitalist road [they want to take]. Socialism must have a dictatorship, it will not work without it…. This is a war: we are opening fire on peasants with private property…. [They’re] counterrevolutionaries who should be sent to labour camps.”[155]

Workers and “economism”

Peasant resistance to state surplus extraction was paralleled by productivity problems in industry and growing discontent from China’s industrial workforce. The development of workers’ opposition can be understood in terms of the revolution’s failure to develop institutions of workers’ self-rule. In contrast to the revolution of 1925-27 when workers’ strike committees—embryonic soviets—took control of Canton, Shanghai and other cities, Mao’s government imposed a top-down hierarchical factory management structure and absolute Party dictatorship over society and the economy. Workers were shut out of decision-making about economic policies—how much for accumulation, how much for improved living standards, etc.

With no say in wages or conditions, workers had little incentive to contribute. Thus the Party sought to boost productivity by imposing harsh labor discipline and material incentives. After banning independent unions and imposing compulsory arbitration, rigid state labor codes enforced discipline with severe penalties for infractions. A system of police records or “labor books” was instituted to restrict mobility and job entry and to prevent organized opposition. Whereas in the 1920’s, the principal demands of the Communist Party had been the abolition of piecework and the institution of the eight-hour day, in the early 1950’s workdays were lengthened, vacations cut, and piecework expanded to one-third of the workforce in 1952, and 42% by 1956. The state-imposed speedups including “shockwork” campaigns, and instituted sharply graded wage scales in state-owned and private enterprises.[156]

Workers resisted actively and passively. From the early 1950’s the Chinese press complained repeatedly about “slackened labor discipline,” chronic absenteeism, “go-slow strikes,” and ”counter-revolutionary sabotage” in the factories and mines. These escalated into widespread strike waves in 1955-57.[157] Workers who protested the speedup, productivity drives, or low wages were attacked by the Party leadership for “economism” and “syndicalism” and told that they “spoke merely from the standpoint of individual welfare and did not sufficiently recognize that the state must accumulate capital to strengthen its defense and develop its industry.”[158]

Cadres and corruption: from “serving the people” to serving themselves

Finally, by the mid 1950’s, Mao’s socialist construction project was running into difficulties from a third quarter — from a loss of ”communist consciousness,” a loss of commitment to self-discipline and self-denial by the Party cadre itself. As Mao complained in January 1957: “They vie with each other not in plain living, doing more work and having fewer comforts, but for luxuries, rank and status. They scramble for fame and fortune and are interested only in personal gain.”[159] Such “bourgeois” tendencies also undermined production. As he observed, “Our experience is that … the lordly behavior of the cadres makes workers unwilling to consciously observe and implement labour discipline.”[160] Cadre self-interest and careerism also led to mismanagement of the economy. The press complained constantly that many factory and mining managers and provincial cadre “put their own interests above the needs of the state and the people” sabotaging national planning and accumulation by resisting higher output quotas, hoarding funds and supplies, and feeding misinformation to the leadership.[161]

Back in the Yan’an days of war communism there were few possibilities for cadre self-enrichment. But given their monopoly of political power, once the substitute proletariat assumed state power and gained control of the whole economy, the cadres had access to the receipts from industry, commerce, and agricultural taxation. After years of “plain living and hard struggle” they were looking to relax and consume. Arguably, after decades of hardship and privation they were perhaps entitled to some improvements. But in the midst of the poverty of China’s masses, they had, in Mao’s words, “gone to heaven.”

   VII. POLITICS IN COMMAND  

With the “transition to socialism” in jeopardy, Mao reasserted his youthful voluntarist faith in subjective consciousness, mind over matter, and the will of dedicated people to “move mountains.” If China’s masses could win the revolution against overwhelming material odds, they could build both socialism and its prerequisites simultaneously. Flattered by the “great success” of the collectivization drive of 1955-56 as reported by his terrified underlings, the Great Teacher penned fatuous “revisions” of Marxism and gave himself up to delusions of imminent communist utopia. Not only was Marx wrong but even Lenin:

Lenin said ‘The more backward the country, the more difficult its transition from capitalism to socialism.’ Now it seems that this way of speaking is incorrect. As a matter of fact, the more backward the economy, the easier, not the more difficult, the transition from capitalism to socialism.”[162]

In his most delusional tract, the Russian populist-inspired “poor and blank” essay published in June 1958, he explicitly rejected materialism and affirmed his messianic voluntarism in stark terms:

China’s 600 million people have two remarkable peculiarities; they are, first of all, poor, and secondly, blank. That may seem like a bad thing, but it is really a good thing. Poor people want change, want to do things, want revolution. A clean sheet of paper has no blotches, and so the newest and most beautiful pictures can be painted on it.[163]

“Barracks communism” and the militarization of labor

What a fine model of barracks communism! Everything is here: communal dining halls, communal sleeping quarters, accountants and offices regulating education, production, consumption, in a word, all social activity, and at the head of everything stands, ᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴍɪᴛᴛᴇᴇ, nameless and unknown, as supreme leader. This is indeed the purest anti-authoritarianism.

                                                                                                             — Karl Marx[164]

In the fall of winter of 1957-58 Mao launched the Great Leap Forward in a superhuman effort to break through the impasse and hurl the country into modernity in the space of a few years of intense “exertion.” With mass mobilization, intense effort and “proletarian” leadership, Mao asserted, China could “catch up with the industrialized countries in 15 years.”[165] “Our revolutions are like battles. After a victory, we must at once put forward a new task.” And the new task was now “the transition from socialism to communism.”[166]

On the promise of imminent abundance cadres herded hundreds of millions of peasants into huge “communes” designed to maximize labor and minimize consumption. Whereas in 1950-52, men put in about 119 (and women about 70) full-time labor days in agricultural field work per year (excluding domestic labor and private plot sideline activities), in 1958-59 some communes were requiring more than 330 days from men, and 300 days for women.[167] On the promise that the commune ”free supply” system would guarantee housing, free meals in public mess-halls, provide nurseries and “happiness homes” for the aged, peasants were required to turn over “to the common ownership of the commune all privately-owned plots of farmland and house sites and other means of production such as livestock, tree holdings, etc.”[168] It was said that “[t]he adoption of the combined system of grain or meals supply and wage payment marks the beginning of the gradual transition to the stage of ‘from each according to his ability, to each according to his needs.’ It ensures that everyone in the commune can equally eat his or her fill—a great liberation no doubt….” [169]

But how could the peasants’ consumption increase when the whole point of the “free supply” system was to maximize accumulation at the expense of consumption? As the People’s Daily of August 18, 1958, described it:

Grain can be saved … on a planned basis … everyone in the mess halls has a plan for grain consumption, which is less [than would be consumed in their individual homes]. For example, Yin Fu-yuan and his family formerly consumed eight catties and two taels of grain per day, now in the mess hall they consume only seven catties…. Consumption of firewood is also reduced.[170]

Enormous battalions of peasants were sent into the fields and engaged in round-the-clock ”shock work” in a monumental effort to ”turn labor into capital.” The press reported that tens and hundreds of thousands of peasants “fight for every single minute or second regardless of night or day, rain or shine.” In Hebei some 150,000 commune members ”continued working even on windy and snowy days, eating and sleeping right in the field.” In Henan, “people fought day and night, shifting all the activities of life—eating, sleeping, office, conference and even nursery—to the field.” In the “Battle for Iron and Steel,” peasants and workers in Kirin province “fought round the clock, eating and sleeping beside the furnaces”; and in Beijing too, workers moved their bedding into the shops during the latter half of 1958 under the slogan “not to leave the forefront before accomplishing the task” and ”not to leave even when slightly wounded” and so on.[171]  As a Henan party secretary described it:

The peasants were not equal to beasts of burden in the past, but are the same as beasts of burden today. Yellow oxen are tied up in the house and human beings are harnessed in the field. Girls and women pull plows and harrows, with their womb hanging down. Cooperation is transformed into the exploitation of human strength.[172]

“Revolution is not a dinner party”

It was the same story in industry. The abolition of piecework, wage-differentials, material incentives, and the like was, in principle, ”a step closer to communism.” As the People’s Daily editorialized on November 13, 1958:

During the Great Leap Forward movement, workers voluntarily abolish the piecework system and the extra-pay for extra-work system. People now work not eight hours but ten hours, even twelve hours. If work requires, they work throughout the night. Each one is not working for himself but for the whole nation and the future. This kind of enthusiasm breaks down capitalist principles, the remuneration system and the strife for personal gains … it gives a big lift to the Communist spirit…. [173]

The policy of the state was ”to hire five workers on three workers wages.” ”Excessive increase in consumption and elevation of the wage level will run counter to the demand of the Chinese people for fulfilling the prescribed historical task,” a ministry spokesman commented. ”Hence the necessity for austerity….” [174]

When did China’s workers and peasants “demand” austerity, demand to work throughout the night, and on reduced rations? Who decided they should work themselves to death to fulfill Mao’s “historical task” of overtaking the United States in 15 years? The ministry spokesman didn’t say.

Without modern industrial inputs, the overdriving of people, machinery, and the land brought the economy to the brink of collapse by the spring of 1959. As grain ran out, communal kitchens shut down, people were forced to eat grass, tree bark, even each other. Cannibalism became widespread.[175] Yet even as peasants starved, “Cadres continued routinely to eat more than their share while people starved around them.” Filling their own bellies gave them the strength to beat thousands of peasants to death in anti-hoarding campaigns.[176] Suicides soared.

When I read the horrific testimonies and official government reports quoted in Jasper Becker’s Hungry Ghosts, Yang Jisheng’s Tombstone, and Frank Dikötter’s Mao’s Great Famine, even cynical as I am I can’t understand how Party cadres who fancied themselves “communist” revolutionaries could be so cruel, savage, and inhuman toward helpless people under their control during the Great Leap Forward: deliberately starving prisoners to save grain to add to already overfilled party cadre grainaries, savagely beating starving peasants, even skinning them alive for the “crime” of slaughtering livestock after the canteens ran out of grain, burying people alive and deliberately freezing them to death, “smashing cooking pots in every household to prevent them from being used at home to cook grass soup” and worse (Becker, chapter 8). I could understand if this were Genghis Khan or medieval Catholic inquisitors, but “communists?” Yet this is what the “substitute proletariat” morphed into, and not only in China.

In the end, Mao got neither accumulation nor communism. He got economic collapse, horrific famine and unparalleled barbarism. Somewhere between 30 and 50 million peasants starved to death between 1958 and 1962, either way, by far the largest famine in history.[177] Millions more perished in his gulags. Untold numbers committed suicide.

The Great Leap Backward was Mao’s penultimate “correct idea.” His ultimate correct idea, the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution, aka “ten years of madness,” took another two million lives, witnessed even more extreme tortures, even Party-condoned cannibalism in the name of “class struggle,” wrecked the economy, the country, and permanently traumatized the entire population.[178] Instead of overtaking the West, China fell more decades behind.

Deng Xiaoping came up with new correct ideas. First: sell the 16-hour day labor of hundreds of millions of police state-enforced union-free, EPA-free, OSHA-free, NIOSH-free, civil-rights-free, helpless and vulnerable migrant Chinese workers to the Western capitalists at the world’s lowest wages — the “China price”[179] — in order to squeeze surpluses out of them to modernize China’s industry and catch up with the West. Second: marketize CCP power so that communists, beginning with his own children, could “get rich first.”[180] Third: impose his one-child policy with forced abortions. Fourth: lock up Democracy Wall protestors Wei Jinsheng and others to stop the calls for a Fifth Modernization: democracy. Fifth: shoot the Tiananmen protestors en masse and run them over with tanks à la Stalin in Hungary.

Today, retro-Maoist Xi Jinping has his own correct ideas: Enslave Xinjiang Muslims and Tibetan Buddhists in prison factories and erase their cultures and languages;[181] crush the Hong Kong democracy movement; obliterate or “partyize” Islam, Christianity, and Buddhism; crush the private economy; drive out Western/foreign liberal/cultural influences in universities and society; and lock up the entire populations of Shanghai and other cities for months on end rather than accept the “humiliation” that his China-made Covid vaccines don’t work very well and import vaccines that do work from the “evil” West. But far and away, his most catastrophic correct idea is his “China Dream” plan to drive his economy at 6-8% per year until China overtakes the United States to become the world’s leading superpower — even if this requires burning enough coal, oil, and gas to doom life on Earth.[182] In October 2019 climate scientists published research predicting that, on present trends, global warming is going to “all but erase” Shanghai, Shenzhen, and “most of the world’s great coastal cities by 2050” – barely 28 years from now.[183] There won’t be any “great rejuvenation,” any “golden age of glory and splendor” for the Communist Party when China’s glaciers evaporate, when its rivers dry up, when farming collapses across the North China Plain, when its coastal cities are flooded. There will be industrial collapse, ecological collapse, famine, and untold human suffering.

So much for the “proletarian attitudes and values” of the substitute proletariat. Little wonder that Maoists like the Monthly Review editors and the Qiao Collecitve refuse to discuss the nature of China. Even a cursory review of the historical evidence debunks their delusionary Maoist theory. It’s past time to bury Maoism, bury Fidelismo, bury all third-worldist illusions in savior-dictator “substitute proletariats” and reassert the primacy of the working class and the indispensability of mass democracy. Socialism is not about skyscrapers, high-speed trains, blingfrastructure, or Xi’s phony “common prosperity,” let alone the crude barracks communism of Mao Zedong. Socialism is about liberation, freedom, social equality, and working-class self-rule, not repression, slavery, and Orwellian thought control. There are no “great saviors.” The emancipation of the working class must be the act of the working class itself  or it won’t happen at all.

 

Notes

[107] Elizabeth Perry, “Masters of the Country? Shanghai Workers in the Early People’s Republic,” in Jeremy Brown and Paul G. Picowicz, eds., Dilemmas of Victory: The Early Years of the People’s Republic (Cambridge: Harvard UP, 2007), 58.

[108] RCP (5 April 1949) “Special Report from China on the Civil War,” The Militant, XIII, 18, 2 May 1949: 1-2.

[109] C.L. Liu (20 October 1949) “China: An Aborted Revolution,” Fourth International, 11, 1 (January-February 1950), 3-7. Thanks to Paul Hammond for these sources from The Militant and the Fourth International.

[110] Perry, op cit., 12.

[111] New China News Agency, May 3, 1949, in Gluckstein, Mao’s China, 212-213.

[112] Gluckstein, Mao’s China, 213-214.

[113] Gluckstein, Mao’s China, 214-15.

[114] Dikötter, Tragedy, 50.

[115] Dikötter, Tragedy, 47-48

[116] The impact this had on children is movingly described by Ai Weiwei whose father the poet Ai Qing, labeled a “black element,” endured innumerable humiliations, some which nearly killed him, over decades at the hands of Mao. Weiwei suffered many of those along with his father and also after his father died as a “son of a Five Black Category element.” 1000 Years, chapters 6-9.

[117] Dikötter, Tragedy, 65,74.

[118] Hsiao-tung Fei, Peasant Life in China (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1962), chapter 11; Hsiao-tung Fei and Chih-I-Chang, Earthbound China (Chicago: University of Chicago: 1945), R.H. Tawney, Land and Labor in China (London: Allen and Unwin, 1932).

[119] Liu Binyan, A Higher Kind of Loyalty (New York: Pantheon, 1990), 24-25.

[120] Dikötter, Tragedy, 69, 73-75.

[121] Dikötter, Tragedy, 76.

[122] Dikötter, Tragedy, 77

[123] Dikötter, Tragedy, 74-75.

[124] Dikötter, Tragedy, 74-75.

[125] Dikötter, Tragedy, 73-74, 76-77, 80-81, 83.

[126] Cheng, New Man, 70-75; Dikötter, Tragedy, 183.

[127] Cheng, New Man, 73-74.

[128] Dikötter, Tragedy, 182-83.

[129] Dikötter, Tragedy, 190.

[130] Dikötter, Tragedy, 190, 193, 196ff.

[131] Dikötter, Tragedy , chapter 12.

[132] Laogai Research Foundation, Laogai Handbook (Washington D.C. 2006), 14.

[133] Laogai Handbook, 8.

[134] Wang Bing, Dead Souls (Icarus and Grasshopper Films, 2018).

[135] Liu, Loyalty, chapter 5.

[136] Gluckstein, Mao’s China, chapters 20 and 21. Liu, Loyalty, chapter 3 and passim.

[137] Liu, Loyalty, chapter 6; Dikötter, Tragedy, chapter 9.

[138] Gluckstein, Mao’s China, 327-330

[139] Liu, Loyalty, 38.

[140] Alice Su, “Searching for a way out” Alice Su, Twitter, May 5, 2022.

[141] Li Yuan, “‘The last generation’: disillusionment of young Chinese,” New York Times, May 24, 2022.

[142] Quoted in Liu, China Dream, Chapter 1.

[143] In R. Craig Nations, War on War: Lenin, the Zimmerwald Left, and the Origins of Communist Internationalism (Duke: Duke University Press, 1989), 211. (Thanks to John Ridell for the source).

[144] Dikötter, Tragedy, 227-31.

[145] Dikötter, Tragedy, 230-31.

[146] By 1957 Chinese per capita grain availability was still only 256 kilograms per annum: Anthony M. Tang, “Policy and performance in agriculture” in Economic Trends in Communist China, ed. Alexander Eckstein et al. (New York: Aldine Atherton, 1968), 466.

[147] Nai-Ruenn Chen and Walter Galenson, The Chinese Economy Under Communism (New York: Aldine, 1969), 95; and Anthony M. Tang. “Policy and Performance In Agriculture”, in Eckstein et al., eds., Economic Trends, 504-505.

[148] On the grain supply crisis of the mid-fifties and peasant resistance to collectivization, see Kenneth R. Walker, “Collectivization in Retrospect: The ‘Socialist High Tide’ of Autumn 1955-Sprlng 1956,” China Quarterly no. 26 (Apr.-June 1966), 1-43; and Thomas P. Bernstein, “Cadre and Peasant Behavior Under Conditions of Insecurity and Deprivation: The Grain Supply Crisis of the Spring of 1955,” in A. Doak Barnet (ed.), Chinese Communist Politics in Action (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1969), 365-399.

[149] Kenneth R. Walker, Planning in Chinese Agriculture (London: Routledge, 1965), 66; also Mao, SW 5, 196-7.

[150] Walker, “Collectivization.”

[151] Dikötter, Tragedy, 217-220, 222-23, 234-35.

[152]  Dikötter, Tragedy, 235.

[153]  Dikötter, Tragedy, 224-25.

[154] Mao, “On the co-operative transformation of agriculture” (July 31, 1955), SW 5, 184; Dikötter, Tragedy, 236.

[155] Dikötter, Tragedy, 236-37.

[156] Gluckstein, Mao’s China, chapters 10-14; and Kenneth Lieberthal, “Mao vs. Liu? Policy Towards Industry and Commerce: 1946-1949,” China Quarterly, no. 47 (July-Sept. 1971), 494-520. no. 859.[what does no. 859 refer to?]

[157] Gluckstein, Mao’s China, 218-223; Mao’s contradictions speech of February 27, 1957 in SW 5, 414-415; Elisabeth J. Perry, “Shanghai’s strikewave of 1957,” China Quarterly, no. 137 (March 1994), 1-27; Dikötter, Tragedy, 278-79.

[158] Liberation Daily, June 25, 1952, in Gluckstein, Mao’s China, 235.

[159] Mao, SW 5, 350-55.

[160] Mao, Miscellany of Mao Tse-tung Thought 1949-1968 (Arlington, VA: Joint Publications Research Service, 1974) no. 61269-1, 283.

[161] E.g., “The case of the Shenyang Transformer Plant,” New China News Agency, July 22, 1956: and ”Politics as the guide: ministry of coal industry deals with the ‘under-assessment of capacity’ question,” Political Study, no. 5, May 13, 1958: ECMM no. 139.

[162] “Reading notes,” (Taipei, 1967), in Meisner, Mao Zedong, 150.

[163] Hongqi (Red Flag), June 1, 1958, pp.3-4, in Meisner, Mao Zedong, 149.

[164] Thus wrote Marx in his sarcastic takedown of the forced collectivism and communism of the nihilist-anarchist Sergey Nechayev in his “Fundamentals of the future social society” (1870), K. Marx and F. Engels, Soch, 2nd ed., vol. 18, 414.

[165] Meisner, Mao Zedong, 143.

[166] Meisner, Mao Zedong, 140.

[167] Peter Schran, The Development of Chinese Agriculture 1950-1959 (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1969), 69-78.

[168] “Tentative Regulations of the Weihsing People’s Commune,” August 7, 1958, reprinted in Cheng Chu-yuan, People’s Communes in China (Hong Kong: Union Press, 1959), 61-80.

[169] “The People’s Commune Movement in Hope,” Red Flag, Oct. 1, 1958, reprinted In People’s Communes in China (Beijing: Foreign Language Press, 1958), 55.

[170] Quoted in Geoffrey Hudson, et al., The Chinese Communes (New York: 1960), pp. 23-24.

[171] 34Red Flag no. 11, 1958. This and the following examples of ”shock work” are drawn from Cheng, People’s Communes. See especially chapters 3-6.

[172] Current Background (CB) no. 515.

[173] See Hu Shang, “Speaking of the Government Issue System,” Joint Publications Research Service (hereafter JPRS) no. 6230.

[174] Sung Ping, “Why is it Necessary to Introduce a Rational Low Wage System?” Study (December 3, 1957), ECMM no. 118. See also articles on the abolition of piecework, “bourgeois right,” and “money in command” in CB no. 537.

[175] Jasper Becker, Hungry Ghosts (New York: Free Press 1996), 118ff.

[176] Yang Jisheng, Tombstone: The Great Chinese Famine 1958-1962 (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux 2008), 45.

[177] Becker, Ghosts; Yang, Tombstone.

[178] Zheng Yi, Scarlet Memorial (Boulder: Westview Press, 1996).

[179] Alexandra Harvey, The China Price (London: Penguin, 2008).

[180] On this, see my China’s Engine, chapter 6.

[181] Anthony Galloway and Eryk Bagshaw, “China forces 500,000 Tibetans into labour camps,” Sydney Morning Herald, September 22, 2020, https://www.smh.com.au/world/asia/china-forces-500-000-tibetans-into-labour-camps-20200922-p55xyk.html.

[182] In 2020, China’s CO2 emissions were 10.67 billion tons (bt), more than twice those of the U.S. (4.71 bt) with a GDP just two-thirds as large, more than the entire OECD. What’s even more concerning are the trends. In 1990 China’s emissions were just 2.48 bt while US emissions were 5.11 bt. While U.S. emissions have fallen slightly from their 1990 level (and dropped significantly from their peak of 6.13bt in 2007), China’s emissions have relentlessly grown, more than quadrupling since 1990, growing by 4-5% p.a. since 2016 with no end in sight. Data from Our world in Data, https://ourworldindata.org/co2/country/china.

[183] Denise Lu and Christopher Flavelle, “Erased by rising seas by 2050,” New York Times, October 30, 2019; and my China’s Engine, chapter 7 and p. 195.

Speaking Fiction to Power

An Essay on Yuval Noah Harari
[PDF][Print]

No one, of course, knows everything; but if there is one intellectual alive today who purports to come close, it is Yuval Noah Harari. The formerly obscure Oxford-trained Israeli academic historian shot to global prominence in 2014 with the English-language publication of his book Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind, originally published in Hebrew in 2011. Harari has since written two further global bestsellers: Homo Deus: A Brief History of Tomorrow, published in 2016, and 21 Lessons for the 21st Century, published in 2018. Collectively, Harari’s books have sold more than 35 million copies worldwide, and been translated into 65 different languages. They have received rapturous praise from numerous newspapers, and from figures as diverse as fellow public intellectual Jared Diamond, former US president Barack Obama, billionaire Facebook owner Mark Zuckerberg, Nobel Prize-winning novelist Kazuo Ishiguro, and Academy Award-winning actor Natalie Portman. Harari’s TED talks have been watched by millions online, and he is a regular invitee to the World Economic Forum at Davos. The London Times has even gone as far as to describe him as “the great thinker of our age”.

Praise for the self-described “historian and philosopher”, however, is far from universal. In a review of Sapiens published in the New English Review, the respected anthropologist C. R. Hallpike dismissed the book as “infotainment”, designed merely to “titillate its readers” rather than offer “a serious contribution to knowledge”. Moreover, in a scathing review of 21 Lessons for the New Statesman, commissioning editor Gavin Jacobsen openly mocked Harari for writing “like an undergraduate struggling to reach the word count”, before remarking that the book mostly consisted of “pointless asides and cringeworthy platitudes of fortune-cookie quality”. And, in a recent extended critique of Harari’s scientific claims published in the leftist journal Current Affairs, behavioral scientist Darshana Narayanan admonished Harari for his “error-riddled” work, and, indeed, went as far as to suggest that Harari is “in many ways … a fraud”.

So, is Harari “the great thinker of our age”? Or is he an academic charlatan, serving up vacuous infotainment for mass consumption?

This article will argue that he is the latter – in fact, that he is much worse than the latter. More specifically, I will argue that Harari’s world-view is rife with inconsistencies and confusion, and that, ultimately, his great skill consists in being able to pass off aimless speculative futurology as intellectually serious work. Furthermore, I will attempt to show that Harari is admired by the global neoliberal elite not only because he rarely, if ever, criticizes their core assumptions and values, but also because his vision of the future is one which is fully in tune with their own. Thus, he is not merely a producer of infotainment for the masses, but, rather, a conduit through which the global elite’s own assumptions, desires and dreams are adorned with a veneer of academic respectability.

  1. The Test of Reality

Let us begin with what is arguably the foundation of Harari’s – or, for that matter, any would-be philosopher’s – world view: ontology, or, in layman’s terms, what does and does not exist. (This topic is apparently so important to Harari that one of the six core “values” of Sapienship, a for-profit organization which Harari and his partner founded in 2019, reads: “Learn to Distinguish Reality from Illusion”.)

Though this issue is one that has repeatedly perplexed the history’s finest thinkers, Harari, undaunted, nevertheless claims to have solved it outright:

How do you know if an entity is real? Very simple – just ask yourself, ‘Can it suffer?’ When people burn down the temple of Zeus, Zeus doesn’t suffer. When the euro loses its value, the euro doesn’t suffer. When a bank goes bankrupt, the bank doesn’t suffer. When a country suffers a defeat in war, the country doesn’t really suffer. It’s just a metaphor. In contrast, when a soldier is wounded in battle, he really does suffer. When a famished peasant has nothing to eat, she suffers. When a cow is separated from her newborn calf, she suffers. This is reality. (Homo Deus, 206)

Harari is apparently so enamored of his solution to this ancient problem that he repeats it almost verbatim in 21 Lessons, and, indeed, even gives it a name: “the test of reality” (356). The test, as Harari suggests, is simple: if a purported entity can suffer, then it is real; if it can’t suffer, then it isn’t real. That is, the ability to suffer is a necessary and sufficient condition for reality.

The core problem with this criterion is, of course, crushingly obvious: many things exist which cannot suffer. Such entities would include, among other things, physically emergent entities such as trees, rocks, and rivers, as well as physically fundamental entities such as quarks, leptons and gauge bosons. Still, given Harari’s claim that the euro also doesn’t exist – a claim that many economists would likely dispute – one might initially be tempted to believe that, in employing his “test”, Harari is presenting the reader with his own idiosyncratic metaphysics, one which he will later elaborate upon and defend. Unfortunately, however, this is not the case. Indeed, in Deus, Harari unambiguously affirms that “trees, rocks, and rivers” are “objective entities”, and explicitly contrasts them with “stories about money, gods, nations and corporations” (181), while in Sapiens he similarly distinguishes “the objective reality of rivers, trees and lions” from the “imagined reality of gods, nations and corporations” (36). In short: Harari’s own ontology patently fails his own ontological test.

Nor is this the only inconsistency intrinsic to Harari’s ontology. In particular, given Harari’s repeated assertions that the self is a “mythological chimera”, that “individuality” is a “myth”, and that “your core identity” is nothing but “a complex illusion created by neural networks” (21 Lessons, 348, 254, 288), it is, on reflection, at best extremely unclear how Harari is entitled to believe in soldiers (to use one of his own proffered examples above). For, according to Harari, experiments by the Nobel Prize-winning economist Daniel Kahneman and others have demonstrated that, rather than having a single permanent self, there are “at least two different selves within us: the experiencing self and the narrating self”. The experiencing self, as Harari describes it, consists of “our moment-to-moment consciousness”, while our narrating self is responsible for “retrieving memories, telling stories, and making big decisions” (Deus, 342-3).

On the obvious way of understanding this conception of selfhood, then, there is never one single soldier: rather, there is the experiencing-soldier and the narrating-soldier. But, if this is true, it would once again appear to contradict Harari’s “test of reality”: for only the soldier’s experiencing self is seemingly capable of suffering; the narrating self, on the other hand, is not capable of experiencing suffering but rather, according to Harari, serves merely to “evaluate” or “average” such experiences (Deus, 343, 345). In other words: if we follow Harari’s “test of reality” to the letter, the narrating self, strictly speaking, does not exist – and hence, to the extent that “the soldier” is understood as the amalgamation of the experiencing and narrating self, neither does the soldier.

One final incongruity in Harari’s ontology is worth remarking upon, namely, his conception of “myths” – a term which, on Harari’s idiosyncratic construal, refers not merely to ancient gods and legends, but also to modern laws, nations, and corporations. To summarize brutally Harari’s (already brutal) summary of human history as presented in Sapiens: the reason why humans were able to progress from being a small band of hunter-gathers in Africa to dominating the globe – or, as Harari puts it, “insignificant animals with no more impact on their environment than gorillas, fireflies, or jellyfish” to becoming the “masters of creation” (4, 42) – is due to our collective ability to believe in such “myths” (or “fictions”). This is because these myths afford us “the unprecedented ability to cooperate in large numbers” (27), something which no other animal on Earth is capable of doing, including our close relatives (e.g., the chimpanzees).

Unfortunately, Harari is typically inconsistent when it comes to his construal of the afore-mentioned “myths”. In Deus, for instance, he claims that certain “mythical” institutions, namely the EU and the World Bank, actually “exist”, albeit “only in our shared imagination” (176), while in Sapiens he writes that laws, money, gods and nations are “inter-subjective phenomena” which “exist in a different way from physical phenomena such as radioactivity” (132; emphasis added).

The claim that social constructs such as laws, nations, and institutions “exist in a different way” to, say, physically fundamental entities such as electrons, quarks, and gauge bosons, or even to physically emergent entities such as tables, chairs and rivers, is not overly controversial. However, the claim that they do not exist at all – that they are ontological “fictions” on a par with, say, Ancient Greek or Viking gods – certainly is. Indeed, as Hallpike points out in the above-cited article, the claim that laws, nations, and corporations are fictional would appear to be “a perverse way of stating the obvious fact” that such entities are not material. As Hallpike goes on to remark, the fact that such entities “are immaterial and cannot be seen, touched or smelled does not make them fiction, like Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy”; indeed, as he notes, it would seem that Harari is “just in a philosophical muddle that confuses what is material with what is real, and what is immaterial with fiction”.

Furthermore, the claim that such entities are “fictional” is at odds not only with everyday discourse, but also – troublingly for Harari, given his professed fealty to science – scientific practice. As the cognitive scientist Douglas Hofstadter and philosopher Daniel Dennett pointed out several decades ago:

Our world is filled with things that are neither mysterious and ghostly nor simply constructed out of the building blocks of physics. Do you believe in voices? How about haircuts? Are there such things? What are they? What, in the language of the physicist, is a hole – not an exotic black hole, but just a hole in a piece of cheese, for instance? Is it a physical thing? What is a symphony? Where in space and time does “The Star-Spangled Banner” exist? Is it nothing but some ink trails in the Library of Congress? Destroy that paper and the anthem would still exist. Latin still exists but it is no longer a living language. The language of the cave people of France no longer exists at all. The game of bridge is less than a hundred years old. What sort of a thing is it? It is not animal, vegetable, or mineral.

These things are not physical objects with mass, or a chemical composition, but they are not purely abstract objects either – objects like the number pi, which is immutable and cannot be located in space and time. These things have birthplaces and histories. They can change, and things can happen to them. They can move about – much the way a species, a disease, or an epidemic can. We must not suppose that science teaches us that every thing anyone would want to take seriously is identifiable as a collection of particles moving about in space and time. (The Mind’s I, 1981, 6-7)

Since none of the above-mentioned (putative) entities are capable of suffering, Harari’s ontological criterion would appear to compel him to regard them all as actually non-existent. Such a world-view might, of course, be consistent. But, in the absence of any supporting argumentation – argumentation which, unfortunately, Harari never provides, insofar as he never once gives us a reason to believe that in the validity of his ontological “test” – it is scarcely credible.

I do not, of course, wish to suggest that understanding the precise metaphysical nature of social constructs or emergent entities is a straightforward affair. But I do think it is fairly obvious that any world-view which equates, without argument, Google or the French language or symphonies (or, for that matter, Harari’s own books) with actual fictions such as Thor, Zeus or the Flying Spaghetti Monster – and which claims, more specifically, that they are on an ontological par – is not to be taken seriously; indeed, if anything, it is worthy only of ridicule.

  1. Predictions & Counterfactuals

Harari’s ontology is not the only deeply confused, and confusing, aspect of his world-view. Indeed, his epistemology – that is, his construal of the sorts of claims one can justifiably claim to know – is similarly riddled with inconsistencies.

Take, for instance, what Harari is arguably most known (and liked) for, namely, making wild hypotheses about the near-to-distant future of humanity. Here is a representative example of the sorts of future scenarios that Harari tends to describe:

[T]he grandchildren of Silicon Valley tycoons and Moscow billionaires might become a superior species to the grandchildren to Appalachian hillbillies and Siberian villagers. In the long run, such a scenario might even de-globalize the world, as the upper caste congregates inside a self-proclaimed ‘civilization’ and builds walls and moats to separate it from hordes of ‘barbarians’ outside. […] Not just entire classes, but entire countries and continents might become irrelevant. Fortifications guarded by drones and robots might separate the self-proclaimed civilized zone, where cyborgs fight one another with logic bombs, from the barbarian lands where feral humans fight one another with machetes and Kalashnikovs. (21 Lessons, 93)

Epistemologically, there is nothing inherently wrong with this sort of statement: it is, of course, possible that such a scenario might one day occur. Hypothesizing about what is merely possible, however, is not a particularly interesting – or, I would argue, generally worthwhile – academic exercise. The far more substantive issue is whether such scenarios are probable – and, if so, to precisely what extent.

In his more careful moments, Harari himself notes the effective impossibility of making successful predictions about the future of humanity, as well as the exceedingly poor record of other historians, philosophers and scientists who have dabbled in futurology. As he notes in Sapiens:

The future is unknown…. History teaches us that what seems to be just around the corner may never materialize due to unforeseen barriers, and that other imagined barriers will in fact come to pass. (462)

Furthermore, in Deus he remarks that “nobody can predict how the global economy will look in ten years,” let alone hundreds of years from now (59), before adding that when historians “try their hand at prophecy” they typically do so “without notable success” (68). Moreover, in 21 Lessons, when discussing the possibility of automation leading to mass future unemployment, he notes, correctly, that “fears that automation will create massive unemployment go back to the nineteenth century, and so far have never materialized(29), and explicitly states that “today we have no idea how China or the rest of the world will look in 2050. We don’t know what people will do for a living, we don’t know how armies or bureaucracies will function, and we don’t know what gender relations will be like” (302; emphasis added).

Indeed, in some instances Harari goes beyond simply emphasizing the future’s inherent unknowability. In particular, he occasionally notes that, notwithstanding futurology’s abysmal record, making successful predictions about the future is now harder than it has ever been:

Of course, humans could never predict the future with accuracy. But today it is more difficult than ever before, because since technology enables us to engineer bodies, brains, and minds, we can no longer be certain about anything – including things that previously seemed fixed and eternal. (21 Lessons, 301-2; emphasis added)

The natural way of understanding of Harari, then, is that he believes the future is entirely unknowable (“we have no idea how…the world will look in 2050”) – in fact, it is more unknowable than it ever previously been. But this, in turn, raises the obvious question: what, exactly, is the epistemological status of the “predictions” that pepper, indeed largely swamp, Harari’s books? How can we predict a future about which we know precisely nothing?

Harari is, once again, characteristically inconsistent on this issue. Thus, in Sapiens, he writes that the “nightmares – or fantasies” that he describes in the book “are just stimulants for your imagination” (463), while in 21 Lessons he claims it is “obvious” that “most of” the scenarios he delineates “[are] just speculation” (44). Moreover, in Deus, Harari writes that “[a]ll the predictions that pepper this book are no more than an attempt to discuss present-day dilemmas, and an invitation to change the future” (74-5), before going on to remark, slightly cryptically, that “the future described [in Deus] is merely the future of the past – i.e. a future based on the ideas and hopes that dominated the world for the last 300 years. The real future – i.e. a future born of the new ideas and hopes of the twenty-first century – might be completely different” (76).

But for all of Harari’s explicit claims that the scenarios he describes are “just stimulants for your imagination” or “just speculation”, it is also unquestionably the case that, at least in his less careful moments, Harari explicitly claims, or heavily implies, that many of the scenarios he describes will, in fact, probably or even definitely occur. Furthermore, although some of his more concrete predictions are likely true purely by virtue of their utter obviousness (e.g., “Russia…does not seem likely [to] embark on a global campaign of physical conquest” [21 Lessons, 207]) or complete vacuity (e.g., “The big challenges of the twenty-first century will be global in nature” [21 Lessons, 128]), this is by no means the case for the majority of them. Thus, for instance, in Sapiens Harari writes that “the future masters of the world will probably be more different from us than we are from Neanderthals. Whereas we and the Neanderthals are at least human, our inheritors will be godlike” (461; emphasis added). Moreover, in parts of Deus and 21 Lessons, Harari appears to gain increasing confidence in his predictive powers. Here is a representative sample of his “predictions”:

  • During the twenty-first century the border between history and biology is likely to blur not because we will discover biological explanations for historical events, but rather because ideological fictions will rewrite DNA strands; political and economic interests will redesign the climate; and the geography of mountains and rivers will give way to cyberspace. As human fictions are translated into genetic and electronic codes, the intersubjective reality will swallow up the objective reality and biology will merge with history. (Deus, 177)
  • In the twenty-first century we will create more powerful fictions and more totalitarian religions than in any previous era. With the help of biotechnology and computer algorithms these religions will not only control our minute-by-minute existence, but will be able to shape our bodies, brains, and minds, and to create entire virtual worlds complete with hells and heavens. (Deus, 207)
  • The revolutions in biotech and infotech will give us control of the world inside us, and will enable us to engineer and manufacture life. We will learn how to design brains, extend lives and kill thoughts at our discretion. (21 Lessons, 15-6)
  • The algorithms are watching you right now. They are watching whether you go, what you buy, and who you meet. Soon they will monitor all your steps, all your breaths, all your heartbeats. They are relying on Big Data and machine learning to get to know you better and better. And once these algorithms know you better than you know yourself, they could control and manipulate you, and you won’t be able to do much about it. You will live in the matrix, or The Truman Show. (21 Lessons, 311)

Indeed, in the introduction to 21 Lessons, Harari goes even further than this, and implies that our own extinction as a species is imminent:

In the final chapter [of 21 Lessons] I indulge in a few personal remarks, talking as one Sapiens to another, just before the curtain goes down on our species and a completely different drama begins. (7; emphasis added)

In short, Harari faces a dilemma. Either he admits the near-impossibility of predicting the future of humanity, in which case his “predictions” are nothing more than (as Harari himself puts it) “speculation” and “stimulants” for the reader’s imagination. Or he must claim that he has special, quasi-oracular knowledge of humanity’s future – in which case, he should disavow his statements about it being effectively impossible, now more than ever before, of making such predictions. In other words: either we should consider Harari’s books to consist largely of nothing more than highly speculative, amateurish science-fiction; or we should take him to be claiming that he is, in a quite literal sense, an oracle.

Before closing this section, it is worth noting how a similar epistemological inconsistency pervades other aspects of Harari’s world view, in particular his understanding of counterfactual statements (i.e., statements which involve what would have happened in imagined, but non-actual, scenarios). Take, for instance, what Harari writes concerning the suggestion that George W. Bush, Tony Blair, and Barack Obama’s military interventions in the Middle East may have prevented “a nuclear 9/11”:

George W. Bush, Tony Blair, Barack Obama and their administrations can argue with some justification that by hounding terrorists they forced them to think more about their survival than about acquiring nuclear bombs. They might thereby have saved the world from a nuclear 9/11. Since this is a counterfactual claim – ‘if we hadn’t launched the War on Terror, al-Qaeda would have acquired nuclear weapons’ – it is difficult to judge whether it is true or not. (21 Lessons, 197)

Harari is, of course, mistaken in his suggestion that the truth value of all counterfactual claims is “difficult to judge”: if I know anything, I know, for instance, that if I drop my phone it will fall to the ground. Moreover, given that there is little, if any, evidence to suggest that this Bush/Blair/Obama argument is correct – Harari, in particular, does not provide any additional supporting argumentation or further references to substantiate this (exceedingly dubious) claim – it is also difficult to discern what “justification” for this claim exists apart from its inherent counterfactuality. Indeed, the obvious way of understanding Harari’s point here would be to see him as suggesting that all counterfactual statements are at least partially justified, purely by virtue of their inherent counterfactuality.

Putting to one side the manifest implausibility of such a view (is the claim that, e.g., “if I had dropped the salt, Joe Biden would have turned into a cat” really partially justified?), it stands in stark contrast to many other passages in Harari’s work, in which he asserts with apparent certainty numerous other, highly controversial counterfactual claims. To give just a few examples:

  • If the USA had deployed killer robots in Vietnam, the massacre of My Lai would never have occurred. (21 Lessons, 78)
  • If data becomes concentrated in too few hands – humankind will split into different species. (21 Lessons, 94).
  • Without nukes there would have been no Beatles, no Woodstock and no overflowing [Western] supermarkets. (Deus, 309-10)

Given Harari’s studied agnosticism on the issue of Bush/Blair/Obama’s policies in the Middle East’s preventing terrorists from acquiring nuclear weapons, however, it is far from clear how he could be entitled to make such bold hypothetical statements. Are the alternative counterfactuals – e.g., if data becomes concentrated in too few hands, humankind will not split into different species – equally plausible? If so, whence Harari’s apparent confidence in the truth of the counterfactuals that he mentions? And, if they are not equally plausible, why is he apparently unable to assess the truth value of the Bush/Blair/Obama claim?

In summary, Harari’s epistemology, much like his metaphysics, is a mess. His repeated admission that he cannot predict the future of humanity is inconsistent with the apparent certainty with which he asserts many of his predictions, and his affected agnosticism when it comes assessing the truth value of some counterfactual statements is at odds with the certainty with which he makes many other counterfactual claims.

  1. Life-Coachism, Morality & Politics

In addition to recounting the entire history of the human species, predicting a future in which we are all ruled by algorithms or superhuman oligarchs, and engaging in half-baked philosophical theorizing, Harari also frequently ventures into the field of (what one might call) life-coachism – that is, offering faux-deep, semi-aphoristic life advice (or, as Harari puts it, “lessons”) to his readers. In truth, many of the life tips proffered by Harari are almost comically banal (e.g., “If you really care about something – join a relevant organization” [21 Lessons, 364]) or impractically cryptic (e.g., “If you can really observe yourself for the duration of a single breath – you will understand it all” [21 Lessons, 362]). Moreover, those lessons that do not fall into either of these two categories tend to rest on utterly bizarre interpretative assumptions. Take, for instance, Harari’s injunction that humanity “switch from panic mode to bewilderment”:

Panic is a form of hubris. It comes from the smug feeling that I know exactly where the world is heading – down. Bewilderment is more humble, and therefore more clear-sighted. (21 Lessons, 27)

Who would have thought that panic is a privilege of the smug – or, for that matter, that it involves knowing exactly “where the world is heading”?

In addition to life-coachism, however, Harari often enjoys passing extremely dubious moral or political judgements on major historical, moral or political questions. For instance, he suggests – despite voluminous evidence to the contrary – that the US’s dropping nuclear bombs on Japan saved lives and may even have been necessary to end the Second World War (Sapiens, 291); he claims that “empires wielded so much power and changed the world to such an extent that perhaps they cannot perhaps be simply labelled good or evil” – a suggestion which is as morally dubious as it is bizarrely illogical (implying, as it does, that if one wields a sufficient amount of power, and changes the world to a sufficient extent, one thereby transcends the traditional categories of good and evil [Sapiens, 337]); he is a frequent expressor of sympathy for Samuel Huntington’s repeatedly debunked thesis that there is a “clash of civilizations” between the “Western” and “Muslim” worlds (“[The EU] might collapse due to its inability to contain the cultural differences between Europeans and migrants from Africa and the Middle East” [21 Lessons, 165-6; see also, e.g., 183]); he suggests, idiotically, that “The Nobel Peace Prize to end all peace prizes should have been given to Robert Oppenheimer and his fellow architects of the atomic bomb” (Sapiens, 416), despite the mountain of documentary evidence that humanity has repeatedly come within a hair’s breadth of a full-blown nuclear war and consequent possible human extinction; and he has made the truly extraordinary claim that, “Like the USA […], Israel seems to understand that in the twenty-first century the most successful strategy is to sit on the fence and let the others do the fighting for you” (21 Lessons, 203), despite the fact that the US has invaded, occupied or bombed at least half-a-dozen countries this century – including, notably, an 8-year invasion and occupation of Iraq and an only recently-concluded 20-year invasion and occupation of Afghanistan – while Israel has launched four wars on Gaza, and one on Lebanon (and repeatedly bombed Syria) over the same period.

Surprisingly, these seriously debatable moral and political judgements often receive very little attention among Harari fans and reviewers. Indeed, Harari appears to have been able to cultivate the impression among the public that he, in some sense, stands above or apart from quotidian political and moral debates; that he is, in essence, an apolitical, scientifically literate scholar who is dispassionately describing where humans, taken as a totality, have come from, where they currently are, and where they are going. As Ian Parker of the New Yorker has put it, Harari “claims a space … above the political fray”.

In truth, however, Harari does no such thing. Rather, his politics is for the most part firmly ensconced within the confines of the neoliberal orthodoxy which is so prevalent among members of the economic and political elite. In particular, he is a firm supporter of “free markets”, and, indeed, often credits them with having led to unprecedented prosperity in the West (despite the inconvenient fact that, among other things, the US was the most protectionist country on Earth until the end of the Second World War [Deus, 361]); he is an unabashed critic of the West’s (so-called) adversaries, namely Russia and China (and has even claimed, bizarrely, that Russian President Vladimir Putin’s “official vision” is to “resurrect the old tsarist empire”; [21 Lessons, 25]); he is critical of both Donald Trump and British Brexiteers (21 Lessons, 18-9); and he is similarly unafraid to criticize other politicians and their supporters who dare to question the global neoliberal order (e.g., in addition to claiming, without evidence, that “socialists discourage self-exploration” [Deus, 295], he has charged Bernie Sanders supporters with hypocrisy for having “a vague belief in the in some future revolution, while also believing in the importance of investing your money wisely” [21 Lessons, 339]).

Most important of all, however, is Harari’s deferential – some might even call it obsequious – attitude toward the rich and powerful. Thus, not only are Harari’s book jackets typically plastered with acclamation from ex-presidents, billionaire oligarchs and famous actors, but the books themselves typically contain effusive praise, explicit or implicit, for members of the economic elite. Take, for instance, Harari’s discussion of PayPal co-founder Peter Thiel’s comically immodest plans to “live forever”:

Many people are likely to dismiss such statements as teenage fantasy. Yet Thiel is somebody to be taken very seriously. He is one of the most successful and influential entrepreneurs in Silicon Valley with a private fortune estimated at $2.2 billion. The writing is on the wall: equality is out – immortality is in. (Deus, 28)

In other words, according to Harari, the mere fact that Thiel is a billionaire businessman is a sufficient basis for taking whatever he says, however outlandish, “very seriously”; indeed, “the writing” that some humans will soon achieve immortality is already “on the wall”. So let it be decreed by a Silicon Valley billionaire; so it shall be done.

Numerous other examples of Harari’s quasi-glorification of the economic and financial elite could also be given (e.g., “For thousands of years priests, rabbis and muftis explained that humans cannot control famine, plague and war by their own efforts. Then along came the bankers, investors and industrialists, and with 200 years managed to do exactly that” [Deus, 256]). Thus, it would appear that Ian Parker of the New Yorker’s suggestion that “it’s not hard to understand Harari’s appeal to Silicon Valley executives, who would prefer to cast a furrowed gaze toward the distant future than to rewrite their privacy policies or their algorithms” is only, at best, partially correct; for in addition to making wildly flattering predictions about the near-to-distant future – futures, in which, for instance, Silicon Valley elites have upgraded themselves into a new species of world-governing super-humans, or in which allowing “Google and Facebook to read all your emails, monitor all your chats and messages, and keep a record of all your Likes and clicks” has assumed the status of a religious dogma (which Harari labels “Dataism” [Deus, 457]) – Harari is also careful to heap praise on such people in the present.

Of course, were Harari solely to praise members of the economic or financial elite, it would be difficult for him to retain the kind of mass appeal he currently enjoys. Thus, it is critically important to the maintenance of Harari’s global brand that he provide a veneer of criticism of elites – whilst, at the same time, softening the criticism as much as possible so as not to incur their actual displeasure.

One classic example of this may be found in Harari’s “criticism” of Facebook’s tax avoidance practices (e.g., the company paid less than 2% corporation tax in the UK in 2018): “We can only hope,” Harari writes, “that Facebook can change its business model, adopt a more offline-friendly tax policy […] and still remain profitable” (21 Lessons, 108). In other words, rather than condemning outright Facebook’s outrageous refusal to pay its taxes, Harari instead opts to gently scold the company for not having a “more offline-friendly” tax policy – while still being careful to note explicitly that he hopes the company will remain profitable for the foreseeable future.

Similarly, in his discussion of Facebook CEO Mark Zuckerberg’s February 2017 “manifesto on the need to build a global community” following the surprise victory of Donald Trump in the 2016 US Presidential election – a manifesto which, Harari fawningly remarks, took “three months of soul-searching” to write – Harari mentions, in passing, the true but inconvenient fact that “you can hardly build a global community when you make your money from capturing people’s attention and selling it to advertisers”. Nevertheless, this doesn’t prevent Harari from praising Zuckerberg’s “vision” as both “timely” and “audacious”, and even noting that “Zuckerberg’s willingness even to formulate such a vision deserves praise” (21 Lessons, 101-3; emphasis added). Thus, once again, rather than criticizing Zuckerberg for the blatant hypocrisy of his “vision” given that his company’s business model undermines the very possibility of building such a community, we should, in Harari’s view, praise Zuckerberg merely for stating various vague goals (e.g., helping “people join more meaningful communities”) which we have no reason whatsoever to believe he has the will or the incentive to achieve.

To sum up this section: Harari is by no means as apolitical as many seem to think that he is. For, while he does appear to hold a few opinions which might make some on the more dovish end of the political spectrum squeamish (e.g., his sympathy for the “clash of civilizations” thesis and his apparent love of nuclear bombs), the vast majority of his moral and political views are precisely those that one would expect of any generic member (or supporter) of the global elite: he is pro-“free market”; he is critical of socialism and right-wing populism; and, more than anything, he is an avid admirer of the rich and powerful – perhaps even more so than he is their admiree.

  1. Conclusion

Despite the incoherence of much of his world view, and the unoriginal neoliberal conformity of much of the rest of it, Harari is certainly no fool. Indeed, what is particularly interesting about Harari qua public intellectual is the fact that within his works he frequently disavows the very possibility of someone like his public persona existing; that is, someone who is alleged to know everything:

[N]o one is an expert on everything. No one is therefore capable of connecting all the dots and seeing the full picture. […] Nobody can absorb all the latest scientific discoveries, nobody can predict how the global economy will look in ten years, and nobody has a clue where we are heading in such a rush. (Deus, 59; see also, e.g., 21 Lessons, 253, 267)

Nor is this the only example of Harari making self-aware (or, at least, self-applicable) judgements in his own books. Here are two of what are arguably the most interesting ones:

If you really want truth, you need to escape the black hole of power, and allow yourself to waste a lot of time on the periphery. Revolutionary knowledge rarely makes it to the center, because the center is built on existing knowledge. The guardians of the old order usually determine who gets to reach the center of power, and they tend to filter out the carriers of disturbing unconventional ideas. (21 Lessons, 258)

We are all complicit in at least some […] biases, and we just don’t have the time and energy to discover them all. Writing this book brought the lesson home to me on a personal level. When discussing global issues, I am always in danger of privileging the viewpoint of the global elite over that of various disadvantaged groups. (21 Lessons, 264)

As this article has argued, it is precisely because Harari’s world view is so fully in tune with – indeed, actively supports – the “viewpoint of the global elite” that he is so beloved by them. Moreover, as Harari himself points out, were his views truly “revolutionary” or “disturbing[ly] unconventional”, it would be highly unlikely, if not impossible, that “the guardians of the old order” (i.e., the financial and political elite) would write glowing reviews of his books, invite him to Davos, or pay him as much as $300,000 to give a talk.

Thus, in summary, Harari is – most likely self-consciously – an intellectual lackey for the rich and powerful, whose books contain just enough of a philosophical or historical veneer of respectability to count as a “serious” or “brainy”, whilst nevertheless indulging people with speculative oracular theories about where humanity is headed centuries from now. He is a public intellectual who, rather than speaking truth to those in power, speaks to them largely in obsequious fictions.

UKRAINE AND THE PEACE MOVEMENT

It is urgent to end the war in Ukraine. But to achieve this goal,
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The global peace movement has in general an admirable history of opposing wars that have caused so much suffering over the years. Activists have championed peace and social justice from Vietnam to Central America to Iraq, helping teach the world that in place of death and destruction, xenophobia and intolerance, we can work to resolve conflicts peacefully while devoting our efforts to meeting real human needs. The peace movement has long pointed out the gargantuan waste represented by spending on war. If all the money spent on weapons of death had been redirected towards human needs, poverty and hunger could have been wiped out long ago.

And so, given our admiration and appreciation for the peace movement, we have been disappointed and a little surprised to find ourselves at odds on the question of Ukraine with people with whom in the past we have frequently marched for peace.

Here’s where we agree with the peace movement. First, we both oppose Vladmir Putin’s invasion and occupation of regions of Ukraine. We agree that Ukraine is an independent nation and that Russia is the aggressor. Second, we both sympathize with the soldiers and civilians who are dying and being displaced or forced into exile by this war. Third, we both oppose militarism and war and understand that NATO—while not directly responsible for this war—also represents a problem because it is a military alliance. In the early 1990s, with the fall of the Soviet Union, new structures of mutual security should have been built instead of expanding Washington’s Cold War alliance.

Having this much in common, we should be able to have a fruitful discussion and perhaps find ways to engage in some common actions. Our ability to discuss these matters does not, however, extend to those who have excused or even supported Russia, or who, ignoring Russia’s primary responsibility for the aggression, want to blame the United States or NATO or the European Union for the war. Their support for Russia excludes them both from the peace movement and from the call for international solidarity with the victims of aggression.

The peace movement, it seems to us, has made three arguments for its demands for diplomacy and peace now. First, U.S. support of weapons for Ukraine prolongs the war. Second, the provision of arms takes money from the U.S. budget that would otherwise be allocated to important social programs in the areas of housing, education, social welfare, and the environment. Third, the Ukraine war threatens to disrupt grain production and distribution and, by reducing supply and causing a rise in prices, will lead to mass hunger in the Middle East, North Africa, and other regions of the Global South. Let’s look at each of these arguments in turn.

Militarism and War

In considering the argument that aid to Ukraine promotes militarism and war, the starting point has to be: “Do you believe that a country that has been unjustly attacked has the right to defend itself?” If so, and if the country lacks the means to defend itself, is it entitled to receive arms from outside? Though the peace movement wants a world in which no disputes are settled by war, until such a world exists it cannot deny other peoples, such as the Ukrainians, the right of self-defense.

Some in the peace movement, of course, are absolute pacifists who believe that war is always wrong and counter-productive, even in cases of self-defense. Much of what pacifists say about war is extremely valuable: they note the long-term costs that are often left out of the cost-benefit analyses of the decision to take up arms, among them the regimentation of societies at war, the inevitable civilian deaths, and the brutalized sensibilities that afflict even the most virtuous warriors. Most of us in the peace movement are not absolute pacifists. We generally believe that, even acknowledging these costs, there are still times when military resistance against an aggressor is justified. Absolute pacifists disagree, but it would be extremely unlikely that even a pacifist who believed in justice would denounce someone for providing arms to a victim of aggression. So, there is no reason why the peace movement should attack the provision of arms to Ukraine.

Some pacifists call upon victims of aggression to use non-violent civil disobedience or other means to resist. To be sure, civilian resistance and other forms of nonviolent resistance can be much more effective than commonly believed, and it is right for the peace movement to make this point and advocate for such policies. But it seems inappropriate for outsiders to tell Ukrainians as the bombs are falling that they must use only nonviolence or raise the white flag and surrender.

The peace movement believes in peace, but of course it doesn’t consider peace to be the only value. That’s why many peace organizations list peace and justice as their joint missions. Historically, the great majority of peace forces concluded that, while failing to resist Hitler’s armies might have led to peace, it would not have led to a better world. Likewise, at the time of the U.S. Civil War, acquiescing in the Confederacy’s secession would have secured peace but at the expense of the continuing horrors of slavery. In the case of Ukraine, war causes great harm to social justice along many dimensions. But surrender—for that is what peace at any cost means—also causes terrible harm to social justice. Putin has said he would eliminate Ukraine as a nation and the Ukrainians as a people, arguing that they are part of Russia. He wishes to conquer Ukraine and bring it under his authoritarian rule, in a society without democracy or civil liberties. So we ask, war or surrender? Which causes more harm? Can outsiders really judge that for Ukrainians?

The peace movement didn’t in the name of peace call for the Soviet Union or China to stop providing arms to North Vietnam, or for Eastern European Communist nations to discontinue the provision of weapons to the Sandinistas in the 1980s. Leftists and liberals didn’t consider the Western denial of weapons to the Spanish Republic in the 1930s an expression of peace but a failure of political will on the part of the democratic nations, if not a disguised sympathy for Franco.

In the past, of course, we have often opposed arms exports because they prop up human-rights-abusing regimes. But in this case, the weapons are an attempt to assist a people who have been unjustly attacked in defending themselves, just as was the aim of Lend-Lease to Britain and the USSR during World War II.

Some might argue that Vietnam and Republican Spain were progressive governments, while Ukraine is corrupt or even fascist. We believe that the character of the government is not the key issue, but rather the fact that it is engaged in a justified anti-imperialist struggle of national self-determination. When from 1935 to 1937 Italy made war on Ethiopia, most of the Left supported the latter even though Emperor Haile Selassie’s government was authoritarian and reactionary. The Left did so because it was important to support a sovereign nation against Italian Fascist imperialism, a regime that by 1936 was allied with Nazi Germany. The essence of the position is anti-imperialism and the defense of self-determination.

The case of Ukraine, however, is much easier to decide. Ukraine, which has had problems with foreign meddling from all sides and entrenched corruption, is fundamentally a democratic country, with leaders who have been replaced in elections. There are civil liberties, though undoubtedly under threat, especially under conditions of war. Like other nations around the world, it has a far right and neo-Nazi organizations, among them the notorious Azov brigade. These forces, however, have fared poorly in elections and do not control President Volodymyr Zelensky’s neoliberal government. Within Ukraine, there is a legal, democratic socialist left that some of us in the U.S. Left have been supporting.

While we believe Ukraine has the right to get arms wherever it can to defend itself, we recognize that the direct involvement of the United States or NATO could lead either led to a broader European war or to the use of nuclear arms. We should be vigilant and oppose any such development. And, if things get to the point where the Zelensky government is continuing the war contrary to the wishes of the Ukrainian population, then it would right for outsiders to object to shipping further arms. But polls—limited as they are in time of war—suggest that this is not currently the case.

Many on the Left have suggested that Washington is pursuing a “proxy war” against Russia and that it is pushing the Ukrainians to “fight until the last Ukrainian.” Of course, the United States would like to see a weakened Russia, but it is hardly the case that the Ukrainians are persevering only because of U.S. pressure. The Ukrainians fight of their own volition, and the United States cannot make them fight, though it could force them to surrender by refusing them arms. Indeed, it is clear that the Biden administration and other Western leaders are quite worried about the economic consequences of a long war and the risks to their other geopolitical interests.

The Arms for Ukraine and Social Spending

Long before Russia invaded Ukraine, the Biden administration found its congressional support too narrow to pass its social program. Holding a bare majority in the Senate, the Democrats could not overcome the undemocratic filibuster and the defections of one or two rightwing Democrats. Biden’s program has also suffered because of former president Donald Trump’s tax cuts and the failure of the Democrats to restore the higher tax rates on corporations and the wealthy.

A progressive tax policy could easily fund Build Back Better and arms to Ukraine. Aid to Ukraine would not have affected a single vote in Congress regarding Build Back Better.

Some U.S. peace movement activists have criticized progressives in Congress for voting for military and economic aid to Ukraine while their social agenda (for a Green New Deal or Medicare for All) has yet to be addressed. But the support for Ukraine from congressional progressives has not led them to abandon their social agenda. Nor is it the case that, but for the Ukraine aid, the Green New Deal and other progressive legislation would have been enacted. U.S. spending on arms for Ukraine has had absolutely no impact on the country’s social budget, though it might if the war continues long enough or expands.

Hunger in the Global South

The peace movement is also rightly concerned about the impact of the Ukraine war on the supply of food to Africa and other parts of the global South. As one of the world’s leading grain producers, Ukraine has seen its shipments blocked by fighting in agricultural areas, and Russian troops have burned fields and attacked Ukrainian grain elevators and ports. True, if Ukraine were to surrender tomorrow, grain exports—limited by the damage already done by the war—could be resumed. But of course, if Russia ceased its military onslaught and withdrew its invading forces, grain exports could also be resumed.

To prevent the horrendous consequences of Russian aggression on the people of the Third World,  should the peace movement call for Ukraine to sue for peace and likely lose its sovereignty? No, it should call for Russia to end the war and withdraw from Ukraine. If it does not, we should pursue other ways of getting food to those in need. For example, we could call upon the United Nations General Assembly to use its power under the Uniting for Peace resolution (which is not subject to veto) to escort grain ships to and from Ukrainian ports. We should not call for unilateral action by the United States to protect grain shipments, which could be seen as a provocation. But a UN-authorized humanitarian escort would be quite different. Insurance carriers might be reluctant to cover vessels sailing into the Black Sea, but the European Union could offer the coverage. The key principle here is this: the peace movement should not demand that Ukraine give up its freedom because Russia is holding the Global South’s food supplies hostage when other less onerous solutions are available.

The Question of Diplomacy

The peace movement has a standard position in favor of diplomacy over war. But think about the Vietnam war. While many liberal opponents of the war called for “Negotiations Now,” the demand of the radical anti-war movement—made up of million who marched in the streets—was “Out Now.” Their point was that the United States had no moral rights in Vietnam and therefore there was nothing for it to negotiate. It needed simply to withdraw its troops. The radicals knew, of course, that despite the demands of justice, the United States was unlikely to simply pick up and leave and that there would be negotiations. We also knew that Vietnam would negotiate, and we wouldn’t criticize them for doing so—it was their call—but we also understood that what happened on the battlefield would affect the outcome of any negotiations. So while we wanted peace, we supported Vietnam’s struggle for independence against the United States.

The same is true in Ukraine today. Justice demands immediate and unconditional Russian withdrawal from all of Ukraine. Russian anti-war activists have also taken this position. We say to Russia as we once said to the United States: “Out Now!”

In fact, like nearly all wars, this one will almost certainly end in some sort of negotiated agreement. But the nature of that agreement—whether the Ukrainian people will be able to continue to exist as an independent and sovereign nation—will depend on the military situation there. This in turn will depend on the political situation and the degree of solidarity with Ukraine throughout the world. Without foreign arms, Ukraine will be forced to accept a horrible agreement that could dismember the country or even end its independent existence and democratic government. With arms. they can win the war, reclaim all of their territory, and defend their democratic government or, if not, reach a settlement they find acceptable. Is the death and destruction that will ensue worth it? How can that be a decision of anyone but the people of Ukraine?

We share the peace movement’s desire to end militarism and war and to dismantle military alliances and end the threat of nuclear annihilation. NATO should be dismantled and replaced with treaties guaranteeing respect for national sovereignty and reducing military bases and arms. Wealthy nations like the United States, China, Japan, and the European Union have a responsibility to ensure that the Global South is free from hunger. With all of this in common, let’s open a genuine dialogue on the question of Ukraine’s right to self-determination and self-defense within the context of establishing a world that is more democratic, more equal, and more secure for all.

“The simple thing. So hard to achieve.”

Interview with Standing Together's National Field Organizer
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Uri Weltmann, is the national field organiser for Omdim be’Yachad-Naqef Ma’an (Standing Together), and a member of its national leadership. Standing Together is a Jewish-Arab social movement active in Israel, organising against racism and occupation, and for equality and social justice.

Daniel Randall is a trade unionist and socialist based in London. He is the author of Confronting Antisemitism on the Left: Arguments for Socialists.

They discussed the political situation in Israel and the prospects for the left.

 

DR: Can you give an overview of the political situation in Israel, as it approaches new elections?

 

UW: Israel will soon hold its fifth parliamentary elections in four years, which expresses the political crisis in which the Israeli establishment finds itself. The crisis is evidenced by the inability of the existing parties to form a stable government, which is linked to and deepened by the various social and economic crises that followed the Covid pandemic.

Following 30 years of neoliberal austerity, welfare and public services were not able to meet the needs of the pandemic. Healthcare has been slowly privatised since the mid-1980s, social services are weak. There was a major strike of the social workers’ union, around three months into the pandemic. The education system has been partially privatised. Schools are underfunded, classrooms are overcrowded. [Former prime minister] Netanyahu found himself presiding over a social and economic crisis. Unemployment rose to 1.4m, including people who lost their jobs due to cuts and closures during the pandemic, and people on long-term furlough, who, whilst not formally unemployed, were effectively out of work.

 

In comparison to other countries in the world, including those with right-wing governments, such as Boris Johnson’s UK, the Netanyahu government gave very little in terms of benefits to either workers or small businesses during the pandemic. We saw waves of strikes – by doctors, teachers, and others – and growing social unrest. This found a sort of political expression in anti-corruption protests against Netanyahu, which were the political backdrop against which last year’s election took place, in which Netanyahu was unable to form a government and was finally forced to leave office.

 

The government that emerged was highly contradictory. It included the anti-Netanyahu right, including Avigdor Lieberman, centrist parties, and the two traditional parties of the left – Labor, which is a traditional social-democratic party, now quite right-wing even in terms of mainstream social democracy, and Meretz, which occupies a position similar to the Greens in many European countries, with a base mostly amongst the liberal middle class and students, with a focus on feminism, LGBT rights, and environmentalism. For the first time, an Arab-Palestinian party participated in a coalition government – the United Arab List (UAL), linked to the Islamic Movement.

 

The coalition’s only glue was its opposition to Netanyahu. Its contradictions have ultimately led to downfall. All parties of the coalition, except the UAL, draw their main electoral support from upper-middle-class layers. The popular strata in Jewish-Israeli society, lower-middle-class and working-class layers, largely vote for parties of the right, including the religious right. The only non-right-wing party in the opposition to orient to these popular strata and win some votes from them is the Joint List, a coalition of Arab-Palestinian parties which includes, and is led by, the electoral front of the Communist Party, which is historically a binational party. The Joint List remained in opposition.

According to polls looking ahead to the next election, the right and far-right, Likud and the Religious Zionist parties, are doing well. The centrist Yesh Atid, led by Yair Lapid, who will serve as Prime Minister until the new elections, is also growing, but by drawing votes away from the left rather than the right.

 

What can you say about the participation of Arab-Palestinian citizens of Israel in the formal politics of the country?

The rate of abstention amongst Arab-Palestinians is expected to be high. There is a growing feeling that, having been through the experience of an Arab party joining a coalition government, Palestinians are not able to influence Israeli politics.

Arab-Palestinian citizens have been represented in the Knesset ever since formation of state of Israel. Broadly, there have been three main political currents: an Islamic current, an Arab-nationalist current, and a current represented by the Communist Party (CP), which traditionally defines itself as binational, Jewish and Arab. The CP’s Influence amongst Jewish Israelis has declined, and the majority of its voter base and membership is now drawn from Arab-Palestinian minority.

Prior to the 2015 elections, the electoral threshold required for parties to secure representation in the Knesset was raised from 2% to 3.25%. In response, four existing parties representing Palestinians united in the Joint List. This was seen with some optimism by many Arab-Palestinian citizens of Israel, as, for the first time, all three main political currents were united into a single electoral coalition. After the 2015 elections, the Joint List was the third largest bloc in the Knesset. In the elections of March 2020, it won a record high of 15 seats, out of a total of 120.

Under the leadership of Palestinian socialist Ayman Odeh, who is from the CP, the Joint List was seen as a real player in Israeli politics because Odeh showed a willingness to support an anti-Netanyahu bloc in the Knesset which could remove Netanyahu from power. This resonated with people from the Arab-Palestinian community who wanted to influence Israeli politics and be part of political life in Israel. The Joint List recommended that Benny Gantz, the then leader of the centrist bloc, form a government. But the centre failed the Arab-Palestinian minority, with some of its MKs refusing to be part of a government that relied on the Joint List for its power, so Netanyahu remained in office at that time.

 

In early 2021, the Joint List split, with the UAL breaking away. There are major differences between the UAL and other parties in the Joint List. The UAL is conservative-Islamist, and focuses only on Muslim Palestinians, ignoring the substantial Christian minority as well as the Druze community. The Joint List is eclectic, containing some conservative but also more liberal and progressive elements. A Joint List MK, Aida Touma-Suleiman, from the CP, heads the Knesset’s gender equality commission.

 

The UAL approached the last elections saying they’d play the political game and were ready to join a coalition government, even one led by Netanyahu. The Joint List refuses to join a government, but says it might support an anti-Netanyahu, centre-left government on a confidence-and-supply basis.

 

What’s your view on the participation of the left parties in the coalition?

Labor and Meretz had been out of power for a long time. Labor had not participated in a government since 2011; for Meretz it was 2000. So those parties saw joining the coalition as an opportunity to rebuild after a long period of marginalisation.

 

However, it became clear very quickly that the left had little power within the coalition and, rather than imposing its policies on the right, it was being dictated to. Political challenges always ended with the left parties capitulating to the right. This was typified by the vote to renew the citizenship law, which has a clause prohibiting Palestinian citizens of Israel who marry Palestinians from the occupied territories from bringing their spouse to live with them. This is a racist law which tears Palestinian families apart. The legislation was up for renewal and, despite longstanding opposition to the law, the parties of the left accepted the discipline of the coalition and voted to renew it, in order to preserve the coalition.

 

The left has similarly capitulated when it comes to settlement building. Under the coalition government, several new settlements which are illegal even by the definition the Israeli state itself uses have been built, such as Evyatar, have been built. The government was faced with a clear question: will it take action against these settlements, which are clearly criminal under Israeli law? Although some MKs from the left parties participated in protests against Evyatar, organized by peace organizations, the two left parties in the coalition nonetheless acquiesced to the government’s policy of “legalizing” the settlement, rather than demolishing its buildings.

The economic policy of the coalition has been one of neoliberal austerity, under the far-right Avigdor Lieberman as minister of finance. It suspended furlough payments, tried to reduce overtime payments, and raised the retirement age for women workers. No left-wing, pro-working-class policy was passed. Labor leader Merav Michaeli has been minister of transport, but her tenure has been marked by a campaign of industrial action by bus workers over wages and working conditions, including safety issues, to which she has been entirely indifferent. In fact she has accused their strikes of being “politically motivated” to target her.

Similarly, Meretz leader Nitan Horowitz has been health minister in the coalition. His tenure has seen strikes by doctors and other health workers, including the continuation of a campaign by junior doctors for reduced working hours which began under the previous government. He was initially completely indifferent, unwilling to even meet with the junior doctors’ union, which protested outside his Tel Aviv residence. But after ongoing demonstrations and industrial actions, a meeting did take place. He then shifted his position, saying that the problem lay with the ministry of finance. The union was unimpressed, and continued to stage protests against him.

The left, then, has been incapable of making any impact on politics as part of the coalition — neither on issues of racism and the occupation, or on socio-economic issues. It has been a very negative experience. Despite their formal affinity with social democracy, in practice Labor and Meretz pursue neoliberal policies. Research suggests they draw their electoral support from the uppper 30% of Israeli society. They are not under any pressure from their base to pursue pro-working-class policies.

 

Clearly, the situation in terms of the electoral left is bleak. What about the extra-parliamentary left?

I’m an activist with Standing Together. I see our work as the main source of optimism on the Israeli political scene.

We’re a relatively young movement, formed around seven years ago. We have grown significantly in the past three years. Prior to the consecutive election cycles from 2019, we had 600 members. Now we have around 3,300. We organise both Jewish and Arab-Palestinian citizens of Israel – against the occupation and for peace, against racism and for equality, and for workers’ rights and social and environmental justice. We have led a number of campaigns from this class perspective.

Our most recent campaign, which has had some success, has been to increase the minimum wage. Israel has a particularly high percentage of low-paid workers relative to other OECD countries. The minimum wage has not been increased since 2017, and currently stands at ₪29.12 NIS per hour, around ₪5,300 per month. This is insufficient to meet very high rents and a rising cost-of-living. In the last year, food prices went up almost 20%, and housing costs went up more than 15%. Almost half of the salaried workforce in Israel is paid less than ₪40 per hour.

In August 2021, we launched a campaign called “Minimum 40”, around the simple demand to raise the minimum wage to ₪40 per hour. The demand resonated across diverse layers of the working class in Israel. We saw grassroots action taken as part of this campaign in major urban centres such as Tel Aviv, but also in the periphery, in small towns in the north of Israel, even in ultra-Orthodox towns such as Bnei Brak. This was especially significant because the formal political life in these towns is dominated by the right.

The campaign was able to do something which we think is key in order to transform Israeli society, which is to bring people together from various communities to struggle around a shared class interest. As a consequence of this campaign, we have had ultra-Orthodox people joining Standing Together. We first engaged with and mobilised them around the issue of the minimum wage, but we have been able to persuade some of them of our broader perspectives and they have now joined the movement. Similarly, we have young Arab-Palestinians, previously anti-political, become politicised through the campaign and join the movement. These are people who are not traditional leftist. This is not to say, of course, that everyone who engaged in the campaign became a socialist, but a certain percentage of those who initially came part of the way with us have been convinced to go more of the way.

To transform Israel, including in its relationship to the Palestinians, we need a left that is heterogenous and can mobilise workers from across diverse communities within Israel, both in Jewish Israeli society and amongst Arab-Palestinian citizens. This means building a left that is able to mobilise in ultra-Orthodox communities, for example.

Minimum 40 also had a parliamentary element, and a bill was drafted and cosponsored by 47 MKs, from across the political spectrum, including both Jewish and Palestinian MKs. This is a very high number considering the level of polarisation in the current Knesset. On 8 June, we succeeded in forcing a preliminary vote, and the bill was passed. Three coalition factions defied government discipline on this vote – two by refusing to vote against the bill, and one by voting for it. We saw this as a big victory after 10 months of campaigning — canvassing, petitioning, leafleting — throughout the country. We translated this campaigning energy into pressure on the political establishment. The end result is that a bill was passed that, simply, they did not want to be passed.

The government has now broken up before we could follow through on this success, and proceed with putting the bill into law. In the last few days before the breakup, some indirect talks took place between finance ministry officials and representatives from Standing Together, to discuss drafting legislation to increase the minimum wage. The Labor party acted as the mediator here, presumably looking to gain political prestige for itself if the minimum wage was eventually raised. Minister of finance Lieberman ultimately blocked this, unwilling to see popular legislation passed in the final days of the government. Despite this, we see this campaign as a tremendous win and a vindication of our approach. It showed people that if you organise and struggle, you can make gains.

The dominant thinking on much of the far left about Israel is that it is simply a settler society, a reactionary and illegitimate implantation in the region. Some may even see successes over economic struggles in Israel as reactionary, as they entrench the privilege of Jewish Israeli workers over occupied Palestinians. Many international leftists argue that the focus should solely be on supporting Palestinian struggle against Israel, and that any focus on struggle within Israel itself is, at best, a distraction. How would you respond to these views?

Looking at Israeli society from the outside, it might seem like one homogeneous, reactionary, bloc. But a closer look reveals a more nuanced reality. Like any society, Israel has its progressives and its reactionaries. And, most fundamentally, it is a class society: it has one class of people which lives by selling its labour power, and another which lives principally by exploiting that labour. Ignoring these tensions and contradictions, and writing them off as potential sites of transformative struggle, leads to bad political conclusions.

Israel is a rich country with poor people. There are huge amounts of wealth in Israel’s tech industry, in its biomedical industry. Why, then, such inequality, such poverty, such a gap between rich and poor? One of the answers I would give is: the occupation. A huge portion of the Israeli state budget goes to maintaining the apparatus of the occupation — buying nuclear submarines from Germany rather than funding hospitals, buying bombs from the US rather than funding schools.

The funding to maintain a military occupation over Palestine, funding a ritualistic war on Gaza every few years, funding to build up military capacity for a potential future war with Syria or Iran, funding the settlement project in the West Bank and East Jerusalem — all of these are directly linked to why people in Israeli society, both Jewish Israelis and Arab-Palestinians, find themselves living in poverty.

So Israeli workers have a direct, material interest in ending the occupation. The existing state of affairs greatly undermines the wellbeing and security of Jewish Israelis. So for me, as a Jewish Israeli, as the father of two small children, it would greatly benefit me and my family to end the occupation, to dismantle the settlement project, to prevent future wars. It is in our interest to change that state of affairs. This is not to say class struggle in Israel should only be viewed instrumentally, in terms of its relationship to the occupation. Victories for labour over capital are good things in themselves. But in the Israeli context, there is also a connection to the question of Israel’s policy towards the Palestinians.

15 years ago, when the UK was an occupying force in Iraq, I could have said to a UK leftist: “Why should we bother talking about a struggle to save the NHS, or the struggle of Tube workers in London, when the UK is pursuing imperialist policies and occupying another country?” That person might reasonably see me as rather narrow-minded for refusing to look at how dynamics and contradictions within UK society could connect with a struggle to end the occupation of Iraq.

Look at the US: the US is the biggest military power in the world. Does that mean that we, as socialists, are indifferent to the struggles of US workers, and struggles in US society over issues such as reproductive freedom? All of these struggles are schools which teach US workers how to fight and win, how to build power, how to differentiate between their interests and the interests of the ruling class.

Social struggles are schools for class consciousness. They make us realise we are not in the same boat as our rulers. Israeli workers fighting to raise the minimum wage helps, not hinders, efforts to build a movement against occupation, by sharpening class contradictions within Israel. Of course, this is not an automatic or mechanical process. Raising the minimum wage in Israel won’t lead to the evacuation of the settlements. Making those connections requires the active intervention of socialists into these struggles to draw those links, and persuade workers of a perspective that connects the struggle for social transformation within Israel with the Palestinian struggle for independence and equality.

 

How does Standing Together attempt to do that?

In late March/early April, there was a wave of fatal attacks inside Israel. It began in Be’er Sheva, where an Isis-inspired terrorist attacked Jewish bystanders in the street. This caused shockwaves within Israeli society, as this was the first time there was an Isis-inspired attack inside Israel. This led to an increase in tensions, with right-wing politicians attempting to portray all Palestinians as potential Isis terrorists.

There were further attacks in the following days and weeks. It created an atmosphere of fear and terror, and an increase in racism against Arab-Palestinian citiziens of Israel. Within the Minimum 40 campaign, we felt it would be detached and abstracted from social reality for the campaign to simply continue with its basic messages without any reference to the mood that was present in the country.

 

So in response, we produced campaign materials that brought diverse voices, especially those of Arab-Palestinian workers, to the fore. We produced videos with Arab-Palestinian workers discussing the fear they felt — fear of racist mob attacks from Jewish Israelis, but also their own fears about the growth of Isis-style ideologies, which pose a clear threat to Palestinian society too. We foregrounded voices and stories of minimum-wage earners that reflected the diversity of the campaign: an ultra-Orthodox worker from Bnei Brak, a Palestinian worker from Jerusalem, a Jewish Israeli school worker from Haifa. All spoke about the fears they felt, and their desire for security, meaning both feeling safe to walk the streets, but also economic security, knowing they could make ends meet.

 

By emphasising the desire for safety and security as something felt across communities, we were able to counter the racist narratives of the right. By centring the voices of both Jewish and Palestinian workers who were organising around a shared class interest, we cut through the noise in that period and put out an anti-racist message which could be understood by people who were feeling tense and afraid. Of course it’s not easy, and answers aren’t always readymade, but I believe this shows how our approach of organising around shared class interests can create a framework to promote a politics of anti-racism and equality, even at times of tension.

When I speak with Palestine solidarity activists from abroad, I differentiate between my immediate responsibilities and theirs. I am not relating to Israeli society from outside; I am a part of it. The majority of the people I interact with every day are Jewish Israelis. I have a responsibility to intervene in that society and attempt to change the way my fellow Jewish Israelis think, to ask, “does Palestinian independence threaten us, or could it benefit us? Does settlement construction benefit us, or does it threaten us?”

Standing Together wants to build a new majority in our society. Our aim is to transform the society in which we live, and we think our vision, which is class-based and rooted in socialism, can provide the basis for doing that.

What can socialists internationally do to support Standing Together and its work?

For me, the international movement for solidarity with the Palestinian people, and for a just peace in the Middle East, is not taken for granted. Speaking with veteran peace activists in Israel, who remember the political atmosphere locally and internationally after the 1967 war, I hear stories about how it was seen as common sense that Israel was a liberator, fighting for its self-defense, and not an aggressor. And I listened to hard-learned lessons about how anti-occupation Jewish Israelis and Arab-Palestinians had to swim against the current to make “the Palestinian issue” indeed an issue for the international left.

 

So the fact that now, in Europe, in North America, and elsewhere, there are so many partners who support the cause of ending the occupation and achieving independence and justice for the Palestinian people is something that warms the heart.

 

However, the particular struggle I am involved in — shifting public opinion within Israeli society itself, building a new majority in Israel that would support an Israeli-Palestinian peace, ending the occupation, and advancing towards equality and social justice — is often neglected when discussing the region, even among left audiences and left media outlets. Indeed, the question of whether a political subject that can be part of a progressive transformation in the region even exists within Israeli society is contested in left circles internationally. I answer this question with a resounding “yes!”. Therefore, I ask that my fellow socialists abroad introduce into their political perspectives the lessons of how we mobilise, organise, and struggle inside Israel around the values that we all share.

 

By amplifying, in left circles, as well as in the mainstream media and public discussion in your respective countries, information and analysis about struggles for peace and justice being waged inside Israeli society, you are not only lending a hand to those who struggle here, you also counter the false narrative, which has unfortunately been reinforced in recent years, that criticising the policies of the Israeli government is automatically illegitimate or bigoted. We, Jewish and Palestinian citizens of Israel, are organising on the ground against the policies of our own government, just as socialists in the US or UK are doing against theirs.

 

Amplifying the voices of those who struggle for justice here, and educating the general public about the struggles being waged, can be a substantial contribution to our common cause of ending the occupation and achieving peace, justice and freedom for all those who live in this country.

Many commentators now affirm that “the two state solution is dead”, with the implication that this opens up possibilities to fight for a single-state settlement of some kind. My own view is that the same trends which currently make a two-state framework unlikely also make any genuinely egalitarian single-state framework even less likely, and that the creation of an independent Palestinian state, alongside and with the same rights as Israel, remains the obviously implied “next step” in terms of resolving the inequality of national rights between the two peoples. What is your view on this issue, and does Standing Together have a formal policy on this question?

 

Public opinion polls continue to show that the having an independent Palestinian state alongside Israel is the favored solution for both Palestinians and Israelis, although a majority of them remain pessimistic about the possibility of achieving it. The fact that anti-Palestinian racism is rampant inside Israeli society, that hawkish and pro-settlement parties remain powerful inside the Israeli politcal system, and that full support is given by the US administration to the continued occupation of Palestinian territories — all of these are pointed to as reasons why the status quo is supposedly bound to remain in place, and that no real advancement is likely to be made towards ending the occupation and having an Israeli-Palestinian peace.

 

This means that one of our main challenges is fighting despair and hopelessness, and showing people that when we organise and fight, we can also win. This is true regarding social, environmental and democratic issues inside Israeli society, but it can also be true vis-a-vis the question of the occupied Palestinian territories.

 

The issue of “one state vs two states” might be seen as an issue worthy of discussion in a campus somewhere in Europe or North America, but here in Israel and Palestine it is entirely abstract. We are living in a reality in which Israel is in overall control of the whole territory, with a limited and crippled democracy within the 1967 borders and open military occupation or blockade in the West Bank, Gaza Strip and East Jerusalem. There is already a “one-state solution”: we already have a single state exercising its power over the whole territory. What is now needed is for Palestinians in the territories occupied in the 1967 war to achieve their national independence within a recognized and viable state, as stipulated by numerous UN resolutions.

 

I believe such an independent Palestinian state should excersize its soverignty over the whole of the West Bank and Gaza Strip, with the 4 June 1967 border (“The Green Line”) being the internationally recognized border between it and the state of Israel. East Jerusalem should be the capital of the Palestinian state, while West Jerusalem will remain the capital of Israel. All of the settlements should be evacuated, all of the Palestinian prisoners inside Israel should be released, and the so-called “Seperation Wall” built by Israel should be dismantled.

 

The problem of the Palestinian refugees should have a just and agreed-upon solution, according to all UN resolutions, including resolution 194, and Israel should strive in integrate in the region, including advancing towards peace with Syria, based on a withdrawl from the occupied Golan Heights, and Lebanon, based on a withdrawl from with the occupied Shebaa Farms. Furthermore, advancing towards a comprehensive peace in the region means Israel should advocate the cause of a Middle East free from nuclear weapons and other weapons of mass destruction, and the Israeli government must respect the international Non-Proliferation Treaty. This peace plan is, of course, bitterly opposed by the political establishment of Israel, bent on “managing the conflict”, that is – trying to maintain the status-quo as long as it’s possible.

 

Standing Together, as a movement, stands for an Israeli-Palestinian peace based on justice and independence for both peoples of this country, while knowing full well that the real problem lies with the unwillingness of the Israeli political establishment to advance towards such a solution. Therefore, we set as one of our key tasks to shift public opinion and build a new majority inside our own society, one that would favour the peaceful solution which we think is the bare minimum that is needed to secure the independence, wellbeing and security of both Jews and Palestinans. It is quite a challenge, but we are determined to address it. It can be described best by the words of the German communist poet, Bertold Brecht: “It is the simple thing. So hard to achieve.”

 

 

The Right to Resist: A Feminist Manifesto

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The Feminist Initiative Group

Sign the manifesto 

We, feminists from Ukraine, call on feminists around the world to stand in solidarity with the resistance movement of the Ukrainian people against the predatory, imperialist war unleashed by the Russian Federation. War narratives often portray women* as victims. However, in reality, women* also play a key role in resistance movements, both at the frontline and on the home front: from Algeria to Vietnam, from Syria to Palestine, from Kurdistan to Ukraine.

The authors of the Feminist Resistance Against War manifesto deny Ukrainian women* this right to resistance, which constitutes a basic act of self-defense of the oppressed. In contrast, we view feminist solidarity as a political practice which must listen to the voices of those directly affected by imperialist aggression. Feminist solidarity must defend women’s* right to independently determine their needs, political goals, and strategies for achieving them. Ukrainian feminists were struggling against systemic discrimination, patriarchy, racism, and capitalist exploitation long before the present moment. We conducted and will continue to conduct this struggle both during war and in peacetime. However, the Russian invasion is forcing us to focus on the general defense effort of Ukrainian society: the fight for survival, for basic rights and freedoms, for political self-determination. We call for an informed assessment of a specific situation instead of abstract geopolitical analysis which ignores the historical, social and political context. Abstract pacifism which condemns all sides taking part in the war leads to irresponsible solutions in practice. We insist on the essential difference between violence as a means of oppression and as a legitimate means of self-defense.

The Russian aggression undermines the achievements of Ukrainian feminists in the struggle against political and social oppression. In the occupied territories, the Russian army uses mass rape and other forms of gender-based violence as a military strategy. The establishment of the Russian regime in these territories poses the threat of criminalizing LGBTIQ+ people and decriminalizing domestic violence. Throughout Ukraine, the problem of domestic violence is becoming more acute. Vast destruction of civilian infrastructure, threats to the environmental, inflation, shortages, and population displacement endanger social reproduction. The war intensifies gendered division of labor, further shifting the work of social reproduction – in especially difficult and precarious conditions – onto women. Rising unemployment and the neoliberal government’s attack on labor rights continue to exacerbate social problems. Fleeing from the war, many women* are forced to leave the country, and find themselves in a vulnerable position due to barriers to housing, social infrastructure, stable income, and medical services (including contraception and abortion). They are also at risk of getting trapped into sex trafficking.

We call on feminists from around the world to support our struggle. We demand:

– the right to self-determination, protection of life and fundamental freedoms, and the right to self-defense (including armed) for the Ukrainian people – as well as for other peoples facing imperialist aggression;

– a just peace, based on the self-determination of the Ukrainian people, both in the territories controlled by Ukraine and its temporarily occupied territories, in which the interests of workers, women, LGBTIQ+ people, ethnic minorities and other oppressed and discriminated groups will be taken into account;

– international justice for war crimes and crimes against humanity during the imperialist wars of the Russian Federation and other countries;

– effective security guarantees for Ukraine and effective mechanisms to prevent further wars, aggression, escalation of conflicts in the region and in the world;

– freedom of movement, protection and social security for all refugees and internally displaced persons irrespective of origin;

– protection and expansion of labor rights, opposition to exploitation and super exploitation, and democratization of industrial relations;

– prioritization of the sphere of social reproduction (kindergartens, schools, medical institutions, social support, etc.) in the reconstruction of Ukraine after the war;

– cancellation of Ukraine’s foreign debt (and that of other countries of the global periphery) for post-war reconstruction and prevention of further austerity policies;

– protection against gender-based violence and guaranteed effective implementation of the Istanbul Convention;

– respect for the rights and empowerment of LGBTIQ+ people, national minorities, people with disabilities and other discriminated groups;

– implementation of the reproductive rights of girls and women, including the universal rights to sex education, medical services, medicine, contraception, and abortion;

– guaranteed visibility for and recognition of women’s active role in the anti-imperialist struggle;

– inclusion of women in all social processes and decision-making, both during war and in peacetime, on equal terms with men;

Today, Russian imperialism threatens the existence of Ukrainian society and affects the entire world. Our common fight against it requires shared principles and global support. We call for feminist solidarity and action to protect human lives as well as rights, social justice, freedom, and security.

We stand for the right to resist.

If Ukrainian society lays down its arms, there will be no Ukrainian society.

If Russia lays down its arms, the war will end.

Sign the manifesto 

July 7, 2022

As of 08.07.2022, 346 people and 31 organizations signed the manifesto.

Individual signatures

Victoria Pigul, Feminist, activist of “Social Movement”

Oksana Dutchak, Feminist, co-editor of Commons: Journal of Social Criticism

Oksana Potapova, Feminist activist, researcher)

Anna Khvyl, Feminist, composer, curator

Daria Saburova, Researcher, member of the “European Network of Solidarity with Ukraine”

Hanna Manoilenko, Activist at FemSolution collective

Hanna Perekhoda, Member of the “European Network of Solidarity with Ukraine”, “Comité Ukraine Vaud” and “solidaritéS Vaud”

Iryna Yuzyk, Human rights activist, journalist

Ana More, Journalist at “Hromadske radio”, activist human rights activist

Valerija Zubatenko, Human rights activist

Marta Guda, IT worker

Victoria Vidiborets, Feminist blogger and activist

Olga Kostina, Member of the initiative group “Equals in Kryvyi Rih” promoting and supporting gender equality in the city of Kryvyi Rih

Natalia L., Co-author of a fanzine about women and trans people in precarious work settings

Marta Chumalo, Feminist

Veronika Kanigina, Student, feminist

Kateryna Mischenko, Publisher

Anastasia Sereda, Teacher, intersectional feminist

Oleksandra Manko, Feminist activist

Oleksandra Lysogor, Feminist activist

Olga Martynyuk, Senior lecturer at the History Department of the National Technical University of Ukraine “Igor Sikorsky Kyiv Polytechnic Institute”

Alona Lyasheva, Member of the editorial board of Commons: Journal of Social Criticism 

Anastasia Grychkowska, Activist, student

Lilya Badekha, Independent feminist

Kateryna Semchuk, Queer feminist, journalist, co-editor of Politychna Krytyka

Nargiza Shkrobotko, Member of the Association of Femencamp graduates

Yaryna Degtyar, Member of “Feminist Workshop”

Ksenia Shaloimenko, Journalist

Mariyana Teklyuk, Member the feminist group “Resistanta”

Anastasia Chebotaryova, Member of the “Feminist Lodge”, a grassroots initiative of young feminists

Yustyna Kravchuk, Author, translator, Visual Culture Research Center/Kyiv Biennale

Daria Gorobets, Member of “Yafa”, a feminist group from Zaporijjia

Maryna Usmanova, Head of the feminist organization “Insha”

Maria Kanigina, Student

Oksana Kis, Researcher, member of the Ukrainian Association of Women’s History Researchers

Julia Vlaskina, Musician

Tamara Martseniuk, Assistant professor at the Sociology Department of the National University “Kyiv-Mohyla Academy”

Hanna Tsyba, Cultural studies scholar, curator of cultural projects, journalist

Liza Kuzmenko, Head of the NGO “Women in Media”

Karyna Lazaruk, Media researcher, infographer

Anastasia Fischenko, Student at the Taras Shevchenko National University of Kyiv, member of the vegan and anarchist organization “Solidarity Kitchen”

Tamara Khurtsidze, Student, volunteer

Nadia Parfan, Film director, producer, curator of cultural projects

Tamara Zlobina, Editor-in-chief of the online media resource “Gender in detail”

Golovan Marya, Activist of the initiative group “Equals in Kryvyi Rih”, supporting women and defending their rights

Julia Lutiy-Moroz, Member of the “FemSolution” collective

Oleksandra Yakovleva, Medical worker, feminist, LGBT+ activist, volunteer at a horizontal organization specialised in humanitarian aid and provision of military personnel with necessary protective equipment and medicine

Daria Neopochatova, Psychologist

Oksana Slobodyana, Nurse, medical workers’ labor rights activist, co-founder of the nurses’ union “Be like Nina

Olena Tarasik, Member of the initiative group “Equals in Kryvyi Rih”

Svitlana Babenko, Scholar and educational worker, head of the Gender Studies program at the Taras Shevchenko National University

Oksana Briukhovetska, Artist, art curator

Hanna Dovgopol, Coordinator of the “Gender Democracy” program at the Heinrich Böll Foundation, Kyiv-Ukraine Office

Oksana Pavlenko, Editor-in-chief of the divoche.media

Oksana Popadyuchenko, Business analyst at Ukrnafta

Iryna Dobrovynska, Freelancer

Zach Orliva, Psychologist

Maryna G., Autonomous activist

Anastasia Shevelyova, Designer

Victoria Narizhna, Translator, cultural manager

Maya Bicek, Designer at grouping salt

Ganna Kasyanova, Artist

Ninel Strelkovska, Learning experience designer

Kateryna Pankiv, Psychologist

Natalka Cheh, Grassroots activist

Olena Dyachenko, Illustrator

Katya Chizayeva, Dancer

Anna Pochtarenko, Feminist

Maryna Shevtsova, PhD, postdoctoral researcher

Yulia Yurchenko, Political economist at Political Economy, Governance, Finance and Accountability Institute, University of Greenwich, UK

Christine Sobko, ECOM

Svitlana Dubina, Human rights activist

Yana Dziґa, Grassroots activist, social communicator

Svitlana Libet, Author and editor

Anna Litvinova, Feminist, LGBT and lesbian activist

Olga Papash, Culture researcher, community activist

Kateryna Tarasyuk, Lecturer in Slavic languages and cultures at the University of Strasbourg

Olya Fedorova, Artist

Kateryna Turenko, Activist in the feminist initiative “FemSolution”, editor, artist

Anastasia Ryabchuk, Associate Professor, Department of Sociology, NaUKMA, member of the editorial board of Commons: Journal of Social Criticism

Tonya Melnik, Artist, queer feminist activist, member of the ReSew clothing cooperative

Olga Vesnianka, Co-founder of the campaign against sexism Povaha, women rights defender

Vita Bazan, Kinesthetics

Nastya Melnichenko, Community activist

Victoria Demidova, International organization

Julia Knyupa, Visual facilitator

Kateryna Tyaglo, Writer, copywriter, social scientist

Kateryna Kostrova, Feminist, social activist

Julia Knyaziuk, Association “Positive Women” in Ivano-Frankivsk, protection of women’s rights

Lillia Grinyuk, Association “Positive Women”

Julia Dupeshko-Jus, Community activist, feminist, member of “Steps to the Future” and “One of Us” initiative

Diana Asadcheva, Activist of the LBTQI+ organization “Insight”

Natalia Omelchuk, activist, co-organizer of the “One of Us” initiative

Natalia Titiyova, NGO “ Ukraine – Time to unite”

Olena Gulenok, Sociologist, researcher

Viktoria K., FemSolution

Marta Havryshko, Researcher of sexual violence in war

Olha Zaiarna, Peacebuilding, women’s cooperation for human security

Yulia Liutyi-Moroz, Activist of FemSolution

Nataliya Vyshnevetska, NGO “D.O.M.48.24” (women’s rights, IDPs)

Olha Kukula, Project manager, NGO “D.O.M.48.24”, trainer on sexual education, tutoress in “Nevhamovni”

Tetiana Slobodian, Activist

Yulia Kulish, PhD student of the Department of Literature Studies, NaUKMA

Valeria Lazarenko, Feminist, academic researcher

Dmytro Kruhlov, IT

Svitlana Drozd, Actress, programming teacher

Ruslana Koziienko, Anthropologist

Daria Yemtsova, Historian in the Memorials Brandenburg an der Havel

Yuliia Kishchuk, Researcher

Hanna Syniavska, Front-end developer

Anna Nikitina, Feminist

Lilia Hryhorieva, Member of the Union of communication workers of Ukraine

Alina Bilokonenko, Editor at a publishing house

Khrystyna Liakh, Feminist, journalist, volunteer in charity foundation “Patronus”

Oleksandra Zimko, Editor, translator, feminist and LGBTQ+ activist

Anastasia Semilutska, Teacher

Anastasia Rudnitska, Dance trainer

Ania Kudrinova, Teacher, student

Masha Lukianova, artist, activist, member of the sewing cooperatives ReSew and Shvemy

Daria, IT

Oleksandr Kravchuk, economist, co-editor of Commons: Journal of Social Criticism

Olha Larina, Artist, designer

Diana Melnykova, Linguist

Olena Martynchuk, Anthropologist, curator

Anna Kovalchuk, Feminist

Roksolana Vynnyk, NGO “D.O.M.48.24”

Artur Sumarokov, Playwright and cinema critic

Maria Holovan, activist of the initiative group “Equals in Kryvyi Rih”

Yulia Kharchenko, Dance teacher

Ekaterina Lisovenko, Artist

Denys Nikula, Programmer

Iryna Shevchuk, Housewife

Tetiana Reznikova, Psychologist

Larysa Opria, Feminist

Kateryna Khanieva, Feminist

Kateryna Polevianenko, Product designer

Tetiana Shymanchuk, Student, feminist

Daria Siomina, Feminist activist

Svitlana Vozniak, Housewife

Maryna Rudnytska, Lawyer

Liudmyla Tiurnikova, Entrepreneur

Maria Bakalo, Teacher of modern dance

Victoria Amelina, Writer, founder of the New York Literature Festival, member of PEN Ukraine

Olena Zaitseva, Lawyer

Taisia Fedorova, Editor

 

Organizations

Feministychna Maisternia /Feminist Workshop, Feminist organization

Rebel Queers, Feminist organization

Feministychna Loga/Feminist lodge, Grassroots feminist organization currently providing vulnerable women and their families with humanitarian aid

Sfera/Sphere, Organization representing the LGBT+ community and the women of Eastern Ukraine

Insha/Different, LGBTQI+ feminist and inclusive organization from city of Kherson

FemSolution, Grassroots feminist initiative

Insait/Insight, LGBTQI+ organization

Center for Social and Gender Studies ”New Life”, Human rights organization specialized in gender mainstreaming and struggle against gender based violence

Development of Democracy Center, Human rights organization

Khlib Nasushnyi/Daily Bread, Horizontal freeganic cooperative, engaging in food activism

QueerLab, Cooperative that provides workplaces and/or necessary services and products to refugees

Institute of Gender Programs, Organization promoting human rights and gender equality in the defense sector in the context of Russian aggression

D.O.M.48.24, women’s rights, development of social entrepreneurship, development of culture

Sotsialnyi Rukh/Social movement, Left organization that stands on the principles of people’s power, anticapitalism, antixenophobia

Politychna Diya Zhinok/Political action of women, Defending women’s political rights

Ekolohichna Platforma/Ecological platform, Eco-anarchists


International support 

Individual signatures

Elisa Moros, Feminist and anticapitalist activist, NPA, ENSU Feminist Collective (France)

Alessandra Mezzadri, Feminist Political Economist, SOAS (UK)

Stefanie Prezioso, MP-Ensemble à Gauche, Professor of History University of Lausanne (Switzerland)

Catherine Samary, Economist and political scientist (France)

Ludivine Bantigny, Historian (France)

Zofia Malisz, Razem (Poland)

Kavita Krishnan, Marxist feminist activist (India)

Riki Van Boeschoten, Professor of Anthropology, University of Thessaly (Greece)

Geneviève de Rham, Feminist, trade union activist (Switzerland)

Christine Poupin, Spokesperson NPA (France)

Paula Kaufmann, Coletivo Juntas! (Brazil)

Sherry Baron, Public Health Physician and Professor, City University of New York (USA)

Dawn Marie Paley, Journalist (Mexico/Canada)

Elea Foster, Copy editor (Greece)

Joel Beinin, Donald J. McLachlan Professor of History, Emeritus, Stanford University (USA)

Sonia Mitralia, Feminist Asylum, ENSUFEMINIST (Greece)

Vivi Reis, Federal Deputy, PSOL (Brazil)

Nancy Holmstrom, Professor Emerita in Philosophy, Rutgers University, New Politics journal (USA)

Fernanda Melchionna, Federal Deputy, PSOL (Brazil)

Céline Cantat, Sociologist (France)

Nadia Oleszczuk, KP Youth OPZZ / labor union (Poland)

Laura Esikoff, Psychoanalyst (USA)

Sâmia Bomfim, Federal Deputy, PSOL (Brazil)

Luana Alves, Councilor of São Paulo, PSOL (Brazil)

Marie Fonjallaz, Grève féministe Vaud/Feminist strike Vaud (Swirzerland)

Frieda Afary, Iranian American Librarian, author of “Socialist Feminism: A New Approach” (USA)

Ania Deryło, FemFund (Poland)

Janna Araeva, Bishkek Feminists (Kyrgystan)

Athena Moss Sypsa, Artist (Greece)

Penelope Duggan, International Viewpoint (France)

Nurzhan Estebes, Bishkek Feminist Initiative (Kyrgystan)

Yuliya Yurchuk, Historian, Södertörn University (Sweden)

Nino Ugrekhelidze, Feminist activist, Lead on Philanthropic Partnerships at VOICE Amplified (Georgia)

Rohini Hensman, Writer, researcher and activist (India)

Gabriele Dietrich, Pennurimai Iyakkam Women’s Movement, Tamil Nadu (India)

Pamela, Independent journalist (India)

Meera Sanghamitra, National Alliance of People’s Movements committed to a nuclear and war free world (India)

Irina Novac, Feminist activism (Romania)

Shubhra Nagalia, Gender Studies, School of Human Studies, Faculty (India)

Kelly Shawn Joseph, Aid worker, working on women’s rights (USA)

Jacline Choulat, Grève féministe Vaud /Feminist strike Vaud (Switzerland)

Elisabeth Germain, Feminist activist (Canada)

Shabnam Hashmi, Socialist activist/democracy/gender equality/ANHAD (India)

Ranjana Padhi, Feminist activist and author (India)

John Meehan, Activist (Ireland)

Dawid Zygmunt, Razem (Poland)

Dan La Botz, Co-Editor, New Politics (USA)

Sam Farber, Retired Professor (USA)

Thomas Harrison, Retired teacher (USA)

Hewson Susie, Bodywise (UK) Ltd – Natracare, menstrual equity (UK)

Anuradha Banerji, Activist, Saheli Women’s Resource Centre, New Delhi (India)

Ashima Roy Chowdhury, Saheli women’s resource centre, New Delhi (India)

Lewis Emmerton, SheDecides (UK)

Melampianaki Zetta, Editorial team of www. elaliberta.gr (Greece)

Ema Kurtova, Feminist organization “Aspekt” (Slovakia)

Vanessa Monney, Grève féministe Suisse/Femist strike Switzerland collective (Switzerland)

Huayra Llanque, Attac (France)

Carla Bonfichi (Italy)

Catherine Bloch-London, Attac (France)

Jean Batou, Deputy for Ensemble à Gauche, Penser l’Émancipation Network (Switzerland)

Christiane Marty, member of the Copernic Foundation (France)

Ferrua, Julie, National secretary at Union Syndicale Solidaires/Solidaires labor union (France)

Rao Vijay Rukmini, Feminist activist (India)

Lissy Joseph, Telangana Domestic Workers Union (India)

Murielle Guilbert, Union Syndicale Solidaires/Solidaires labor union (France)

Cybèle David, National secretary at Union syndicale Solidaires/Solidaires labor union (France)

Janick Schaufelbuehl, Historian (Switzerland)

Nara Cladera, Fédération SUD éducation/Labor union federation in education SUD (France)

Lucie Hulin, Fédération SUD éducation/Labor union federation in education SUD (France)

Thomas Weyts, SAP – Antikapitalisten (Belgium)

Sasha, Feminist Anti-war resistance (Russia)

Jana Juráňová, Writer, translator (Slovakia)

Marta Puczyńska, Feminist, anti-repression activist (Poland)

Maryna Shevtsova, Visiting professor, University of Ljubljana (Slovenia)

Tereza Hendl, Philosopher, founder of the Central and East-European Feminist Research Network (Czech Republic)

Liliya Vezhevatova, Feminist activist, member of the Feminist Anti-war Resistance (Russia)

Sherin Idais, Student (Palestine)

Elisabetta Michielin, IT/Le Baba Jaga Pordenone (Italy)

Julia Escalante De Haro, RAÍCES Análisis de Género para el Desarrollo/RAÍCES Gender Analysis for Development (Mexico)

Daniel James, Philosopher (Germany)

Mina Baginova, Social anthropologist and activist (Czech Republic)

Anicet Lossa Londjiringa, Association for Preservation and Protection of Lake Ecosystems and Sustainable Agriculture (DR Congo)

Francesca Tosto, Retired (Italy)

Selin Cagatay, Feminist activist, researcher (Austria)

Anna, Public relations manager (Russia)

Maria Doroshka, Student (Belarus)

Valentina, Student at the Rostov State Medical University (Russia)

Evgeniya, Musician, video blogger (Russia)

Ulyana Pranevich, Student (Belarus)

Lena, Russian as a foreign language instructor (Russia)

Anastasia Goltsman, EN-RU game localization (Russia)

Nora González Chacón, Agenda Ciudadana por la Educación y UNED/ Citizen’s Agenda for Education and State Distance University (Costa Rica)

Ekaterina Sokolova, IT, Czech Republic

Maryann Abbs, herbalist (Canada)

Kira Znamenskaya, Pediatrician (Russia)

Anon, Philologist (Russia)

Kropotkina, Writer (Russia)

Victoria, Banker (Russia)

Ekaterina V, VIM specialist, feminist (Montenegro)

Asya Kolsanova, Feminist, (Russia/Germany)

Anastasia Liebenstein, Manager (Russia)

Mikko Lipiäinen, Artist, Fennobahia (Finland)

Eugenia H., Philologist (Russia)

Dee Meijer, Artist (Germany)

Monika Ławnicka, Ukraine’s supporter (Poland)

Anastasia, Financial sector worker (Russia)

Juliette Farjat, Philosophy teacher (France)

Anastasiia Markova, Student (Switzerland)

Alexis Cukier, Philosopher (France)

Yana Borisova, Catering worker (Russia)

Anna Wiatrowska, Queerowyfeminizm/queer feminist education account on Instagram (Poland)

Adele Kaufman, Feminist opposed to the “Russian world” (Russia)

Zuzana Uhde, Social and feminist researcher (Czech Republic)

Magdalena Zolkos, Associate professor in political science (Finland)

Ksenia, Architect (Russia)

Nana Kobidze, Researcher (Georgia)

Iuliia Avramenko, Technical writer, (Georgia)

Alina Nichikova, Feminist Anti-War Resistance (Russia)

Amalia, Radfem (Russia)

Joan McKiernan, Activist (USA)

Maria Rybina, Designer, feminist, Anti-War Resistance (Russia)

Svetlana Peshkova, Activist, mother, and anthropologist (USA)

Miroslava Udina, artist, feminist, volunteer, Feminist Anti-War Resistance (Russia)

Yana, Radical feminist (Russia)

Moira Pezzetta, Young Feminist Europe (Austria)

Meyer Nicolas, Public school teacher (France)

Dick Nichols, European correspondent, Green Left (Australia/ Spain)

Anastasia V., Feminist, artist (Russia)

Victoria Scheyer, Feminist activist (Germany)

Kristin Halverson, Historian, activist (Sweden)

Vitalia Potapova, Student, feminist, activist, political convict (Russia)

Nasturcia, Student (Russia)

Irina Nemtseva, Freelance artist (Russia)

Francesco Brusa, Journalist (Italy)

Viktoriia Iakusheva, Dance instructor (Russia)

Therese Caherty, Retired (Ireland)

Olga S., Translator (Russia)

Ksenia, Feminist (Russia)

Sophie Lewycky, Student-at-law (Canada)

Adriana Qubaiova, Academic (Czech Republic/Palestine)

Martyna Jałoszyńska, Razem (Poland)

Daria Gvozdeva, IT (Russia)

Michał Gocałek, Union lawyer/Marxist (Poland)

Val Graham, Political activist (UK)

Mario Bianco, Humanitarian aid worker (Italy)

Karina Tereshenko, Feminist (Russia)

Sonya, Artist (Georgia)

Genia Deriabina, Blogger, philologist (Russia/UK)

Benedicte Mey, Guebwiller citizen collective (France)

Anastasia, Student (Russia)

Anda Pleniceanu, Writer, researcher (Spain)

Marta, Womens’ rights activist (Poland)

Ian Ross Singleton, Writer, educator, Asymptote Journal (USA)

Barbara Łomnicka, Telecom (Poland)

Margaret Elwell, Assistant Professor of Peace Studies, Bethany Seminary (USA)

Evgenia Bragnikova, Feminist (Netherlands)

Renier, Teacher, film director (France)

Elissa Bemporad, Professor of History, City University of New York (USA)

Mr Jim Monaghan, Retired (Ireland)

Tamara Krawchenko, Assistant Professor, School of Public Administration, University of Victoria (Canada)

Sara Szerszeń, Student (Poland)

Mara Polakova, Translator (Latvia)

Paulina Kewes, English literature (UK)

Natalya Sukhonos, Professor (USA)

Oleksandra Tarhanova, PhD, Assistant Professor and research assistant at University of St Gallen, feminist, social scientist (Switzerland)

Federico Fuentes, Journalist (Australia)

Marina Skalova, Writer, literary translator (Switzerland)

Verena Irrgang, Rebel With Code – Feminist Hacker Collective (Germany)

Cynthia Lawson, Mental health worker (Australia)

Eugenia Benigni, International gender and social inclusion expert and activist (Italy)

Mila, Student (Russia)

Artem Kotov, Linguistics, English language teaching (Russia/USA)

Carol Mann, Women in War (France)

Patrycja Figarska, Human relations manager (Poland)

Ekaterina Molodec, manager (Russia)

Natalia Skoczylas, Antiviolence and antidiscrimination activist (Poland)

Katarzyna Augustynek, Intersectional feminist (Poland)

Zdravka Todorova, Professor of Economics (USA)

Connie Zukiwski, Wardhaugh, N/A (Canada)

Anthony Boynton, Teacher (USA/Colombia)

Aida A. Hozić, Associate Professor, International Relations (United States)

Mariya Mykhaylova, Psychotherapist (USA)

Natalia, Artist (Russia)

Colleen Payne, IT (Canada)

Kristen Ali Eglinton, Applied ethnographer and feminist researcher; co-founder and director of the Footage Foundation (USA)

Hélène Elouard, Feminist, éditrice (France)

Tanika Sarkar, Historian (India)

Govinda Rizal (Nepal)

Karine Berny, Artiste (France)

Pierre Vanek, Deputy for Ensemble à Gauche, Geneva (Switzerland)

Meghan Keane, Syria Solidarity NYC and Ukraine Socialist Solidarity Campaign member, New York (USA)

Maciej Bochajczuk, Journalist (Belgium)

Francine Sporenda, Révolution féministe (France)

Inna Ludman, Nurse (Russia/Israel)

Alena Ivanova, Feminist, migrants rights campaigner and organiser (UK/Bulgaria)

Birgit Poopuu, International Relations (Estonia)

Yakubovska Eva, Board member at Vitsche e.V., Berlin (Germany)

Anna Górska, National Board of Razem (Poland)

Marianne EBEL, Feminist Asylum, Marche mondiale des Femmes/Global Women’s March, Collectif neuchâtelois de la grève féministe/Feminist strike Neuchâtel collective (Switzerland)

Tetyana Lokot, Associate Professor, Dublin City University (Ireland)

Organisations

Coletivo Juntas! Brazil

Collectif vaudois de la Grève féministe, Switzerland

Young Feminist Europe, Pan-European

Equality Bahamas, The Bahamas

Love Care Home, Women and child rights activism (India)

Center for Empowering Refugees and Immigrants, mental health and social services for refugees and immigrants (USA)

Feminist Fightback, Anticapitalist Feminist Collective (UK)

Where Are The Women, Gender Sensitisation Training (India)

Union Syndicale Solidaires (France)

Fédération SUD éducation (France)

European Network for Solidarity with Ukraine (Belgium)

Warszawski Strajk Kobiet/Warsaw Women’s Strike (Poland)

CLARA International Feminist Collective (Czech Republic)

Spatium Libertas AC (Mexico)

Koster/Fire, Feminist initiative group (Russia)

Vitsche e.V., Civil society movement, Berlin (Germany)

 

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Cover: Kateryna Gritseva

Their Values and Ours: The Debate over Western Values and the Values of the Socialist Left

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Declaration of the Rights of Man and Citizen

Vladimir Putin’s Russian war against Ukraine has raised the question of the meaning of “Western values.” We look here at such values, asking if the socialist left supports them, and if so, to what degree.

The foreign policy of the United States and of Western European countries is often decided and carried out in the name of the “defense of Western values.” The slogan is used to justify U.S. and European arms buildups, troops deployments, and wars in various parts of the world. At the moment, U.S. and European aid to Ukraine is couched in terms of “Western values.” Spokespeople for Western governments typically talk about defending democracy, the rule of law, and the liberal state, counterposing those to governments that are repressive, authoritarian, or totalitarian.

These are not new arguments. They were made at the time of World War I to contrast Europe’s democratic states—which were also the great imperial power—Great Britain, France, Holland and Belgium with Prussian militarism. The democratic states, however, were allied with Tsarist Russia, “the prison house of nations” and “land of the knout,” as it was called. Only after Russia’s revolution overthrowing the Tsar in February 1917, did Woodrow Wilson led the United States into that war supposedly fought for democracy.

During World War II, once again Western European nations were characterized as democracies—ignoring their millions of colonial non-citizens—and contrasted with Adolf Hitler’s Nazi Germany, Benito Mussolini’s Fascist Italy, and the Japanese monarchy and military dictatorship. With the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, the United States joined the Allies. Later, however, those democratic states ruling great empires of subjugated colonial peoples allied with Joseph Stalin’s totalitarian Soviet Union.

Once again, we hear this argument, now from Ukraine’s president Volodymyr Zelenskyy who has repeatedly stated that his country is the frontline in the battle of democracy against the authoritarianism and imperialism represented by Vladimir Putin’s Russia. Zelensky claims to stand for “Western values,” above all democracy. The support for Ukraine from the United States and European nations is predicated upon that claim.

Where does the Left stand and where should it stand on this question of “Western values”? Some on the Left argue that all the talk of Western values is simply propaganda used to justify Western imperialism. These Leftists not only reject the talk of Western values abroad but often also argue that these values have little significance at home either. The United States and Western European nations, they say, are not really democracies at all; for these leftists, there is not much difference between Trump and Biden or between France and Hungary. And these leftists argue, the claim to defend democracy in other nations is simply a swindle, a ploy often used to depose unfriendly governments and install others more friendly to U.S. business interests and geopolitical designs. There is no doubt a good deal of truth in the latter statement. But is that all there is to it?

The purpose of this essay is to lay out a clear position of where the Left should stand on the question of the defense of Western values. I will make the case here that: First, there are many Western values worth defending, though clearly others that should be rejected. Second, we also have to acknowledge that some of what historically began as Western values spread around the world and became universal values. Third, we should recognize that there are also other values that arose in other places, equally important themselves, that are also worth defending. Fourth, we examine the Left’s stake in Western, universal values.

The Left’s Historic Defense of Western Values

The very notion of the Left itself—that is communities, movements, and institutions committed to the combination of democracy and socialism—is itself, of course, a Western value, so we might start there. We don’t have to recapitulate here the history of the origin of Western democratic institutions in ancient Greece, in the medieval communes, or in the bourgeois revolutions of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Those revolutions in Holland, England, France, and the United States superseded monarchic and aristocratic rule and eventually replaced the divine right of kings with the notion of the bourgeois republic: Government by elected representatives of the wealthy classes, landowners and businessmen—a democratic republic would only come later. The French Revolution of 1789 also gave us The Rights of Man while the American Revolution of 1776 led to The Bill of Rights, both expressing the idea of equality before the law and of fundamental civil liberties. Here, for example, is Article VI of the Rights of Man:

The law is an expression of the will of the community. All citizens have a right to concur, either personally, or by their representatives, in its formation. It should be the same to all, whether it protects or punishes; and all being equal in its sight, are equally eligible to all honors, places, and employments, according to their different abilities, without any other distinction than that created by their virtues and talents.

This remarkable statement represented a profound and absolute break with the monarchical, hierarchical governments that had come before.

The U.S. Constitution’s Bill of Rights established fundamental democratic rights such as freedom of assembly, of speech, and of the press; the right to petition the government; freedom from arbitrary search and seizure; and habeas corpus. Achieved through revolution and breaking with the past of feudalism, these bourgeoise republics represented a significant advance over autocracy and their civil liberties not only protected citizens from arbitrary treatment, but created the legal framework for struggles for extending democracy. The bourgeois republic and its parliament system presupposed the existence of rival political parties that would put forward to the people different political programs. Such a republic, holding periodic elections, would be open to a change of political direction reflecting the voters’ desires.

We should not overlook an even more basic and foundational right, that is the right of a people to form a nation, a republic, and to protect its independence and sovereignty. Sometimes, as in France, these nations were formed through the overthrow of a monarchy that existed in more or less the same territory. In other cases, in the nineteenth century such as those of the United States and the nations of Latin America, the new countries were formed by separation from an empire that had previously controlled them. The same was true of the nations that in the twentieth century arose from the fall of the Austrian-Hungarian empire, the Ottoman empire, and later those that won independence from the British, French, and Dutch empires. Similarly with the nations freed by the fall of the Soviet empire. The right of national self-determination, the right of a people to create a nation of their own, forms the basis for the creation of a republic and the establishment of civil liberties.

All of that was part of a broader process. We often talk about a double revolution in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, because the rise of the bourgeois republics was accompanied by the rise of industrial capitalism. This parallel rise of capitalism within the first European republics, that is, the development, growth, and rise of the bourgeoisie accompanied by the arrival and progress of the working class created the possibility of fighting within those capitalist republics for the right of all men—and later of all women too—for their right to vote for their representatives and to change the course of government. The struggle for popular democracy was based in large measure upon the existence of the bourgeois republics, of equality before the law, and of civil liberties: the right to assemble, to speak, to publish, and to petition the government. At the time, neither republics nor civil liberties existed outside of Western Europe and North America, so those came to be thought of as “Western values.”

We should note that other regions failed to create democratic institutions with civil liberties from ancient times to the twentieth century. In India the hierarchical and racist Hindu caste system created enormous obstacles to democracy or any sense of equality. In China Confucianism became the philosophical justification for an authoritarian, and hierarchical, bureaucratic state and society. And when the old Chinese empire decayed, it became rife with warlords. In Japan, emperors or shoguns, military rulers, held power; there was no popular democracy. In Africa, kings ruled in many regions, though sometimes their power often restrained by older communal institutions. In pre-Columbian Latin America, military or theocratical leaders—Mayan, Aztec, Incan, and others—ruled throughout the continent. Then the Spanish and Portuguese conquerors imposed their monarchies and aristocracies on the colonies.

In all of these societies some more egalitarian local communities existed and there were, from time to time, rebellions from below, but the people in those regions never succeeded in creating republics or civil liberties. The rise of democratic values in Europe is not due to anything biologically superior or special about the European peoples as compared to the Asians, Africans, or Latin Americans, but is rather to be explained by the particular geographical and historical conditions that arose in Europe creating higher productivity of agriculture and animal stock, then an accumulation of technology leading to increased commerce and wealth accompanied by new forms of social organization, and finally the rise of new social classes, namely the bourgeoisie and the working class, who created new values. Later, through imperial conquest, capitalist commerce, or imitation, other regions did develop democratic institutions, bourgeois democracy with all of its contradictions and possibilities.

While bourgeois democracy and capitalism arose at the same time, the two were from the beginning in conflict with each other. The bourgeoisie controlled the state and used it to protect its property and the capitalist system, while the working classes demanded that the state protect their interests, that it give them the right to vote, establish a shorter work day, and provide education for their children. Using their rights won in the course of the bourgeois revolutions—assembling and protesting, speaking, and publishing—by the mid-nineteenth century groups of workers in Europe created labor unions and peasant leagues, founded labor and socialist parties, engaged in strikes, held protest demonstrations, practiced civil disobedience, and eventually succeeded in winning the franchise and electing their representatives to parliament.

The rise of the labor and socialist movements, frustrated by the capitalist state’s refusal to meet its demands for democracy and for popular power as well as a better life, led to powerful reform movements such as the Chartists in England and to revolutionary outbursts such as the attempted socialist revolution in France in June 1848, struggles that combined the fights for democracy with workers’ demands for political power. In several countries in Western Europe over hundreds of years of struggle working people won both greater democracy and civil liberties. In the United States the Civil War of 1861-65 led to amendments that constituted a new constitution, with Articles 13, 14, and 15, freeing the country’s slaves, giving them citizenship and the right to vote (all later jeopardized by Jim Crow, disfranchisement, and lynching, but a real achievement none the less). The idea of democracy and the greater freedom that working people had won through the exercise of their civil liberties, allowed them in the nineteenth century to conceive of a democratic collectivization of the economy, that is, of democratic socialism. So, at the end of World War I in 1918 there were several attempts at socialist revolutions in Russia, Germany, Bavaria, and Hungary.

All of this that I’ve described can be called a constituent part of Western values: a democratic republican government made up of elected representatives and a population enjoying civil liberties, making possible social protest, revolts, and even revolution. Every socialist party of the nineteenth and early twentieth century inscribed on its banner the demand for a republic, democracy, and civil liberties. All of the major Marxist thinkers—Marx and Engels, Luxemburg and Lenin, as well as Trotsky—stated their belief in a democratic representative government and civil liberties as essential to the fight for socialism and integral to a future socialist society.

The Western Values We Do Not Defend

We on the Left do not, of course, defend all Western values and institutions. The bourgeois republic was from its inception a problematic institution to say the least. The democratically elected government tended to become the “executive committee of the ruling class,” as Marx called it. Parliament and government tended to be dominated by landlords and capitalists, because they had the time and money, controlled the newspapers and later other media. Their chambers of commerce and industry, their banks and stock markets, financed candidates and installed their representatives in Congress who passed laws to protect their financial interests; at the same time, the capitalist class, which tended to have the most influence in government, generally obstructed the passage of laws that would have benefitted peasants, workers, or the poor. The capitalists’ laws and the violence that enforced them protected private property, insured the right of capital to exploit labor, and created the political structures, social organization, and the legal context for the accumulation of capital. These states at the same time enacted laws and established practices that preserved class, gender, ethnic, and other inequalities and deepened them, often virtually eradicating the notion of equality before the law.

The Western bourgeois republic, that is to say, the capitalist state, evolved by the late nineteenth century into a monstrous institution with large police forces used to suppress the working class, peasantry, and the poor, with armies used to conquer foreign colonies in Latin America, Asia, and Africa, and with navies that controlled the seas and protected the empires and their international commerce. The imperial states beat, imprisoned, and sometimes killed workers at home—sometimes by the scores or even hundreds—and engaged in massacres of millions in the colonies (ten million in the Belgian Congo alone). At the time, much of the Left rejected the capitalist system and sought through parliamentary means to take control of the state for the working class. Socialists and feminists in Europe and America continued to fight for the franchise, for the right of all adults, both men and women, to vote.

When the opportunity presented itself, working people, acting outside of the parliamentary system, attempted to take power for themselves and to create a workers’ republic. After the most important such attempt in the nineteenth century, the Paris Commune of 1871, Marx had concluded that the state could not be taken over as it was and used by the working class, but that would it would have to be destroyed (“smashed,” he said) and replaced by a workers’ state, believing that the new workers’ state would be some sort of democratic republic. Yet, even in the era of the modern capitalist, imperial state, an era of savage capitalism, in Western Europe until the 1920s and 30s, democratic institutions continued to exist: elected parliaments and constitutions that protected basic civil rights such as free speech, free press, and assembly. The Left, reformist and revolutionary, defended those institutions as central to the fight for socialism and through class struggle, in many countries workers won significant reforms that improved their working and living conditions.

The Decline of Western Values: Communism, Nazism and the Left

The great leftist figures of the twentieth century, Lenin, Luxemburg, and Trotsky, argued that a socialist revolution would expand the working class’s power, establish democratic institutions and enhance and augment peoples’ rights. During the Russian Revolution of 1917 led by Lenin’s Bolshevik Party (later the Communist Party), there was briefly an upsurge of the existing labor unions and new political parties, some groups fought for workers direct management of their workplaces and industry, and new democratic institutions were created, such as the soviets or workers’ councils, constituting at first a workers’ republic. Under the early Soviet government women’s rights were recognized and discrimination against Jews and other groups prohibited. And Lenin argued for the right to self-determination for Russia’s colonies and subject peoples.

Yet for reasons that have often been discussed—economic backwardness, the world war and civil war, foreign invasions, and political isolation, as well as the Bolshevik’s own policies—democracy and civil liberties soon disappeared. In the early 1920s, the Bolsheviks, now called the Communist Party, established a one-party state that took control not only of the government, but of the entire economy, of the soviets, of the labor unions, and of all other popular organizations. Wars fought to defend the new state led to militarization of the society and the creation of a secret police (CHEKA, NKVD, GPU, KGB) that became a powerful force. By the late 1920s, Joseph Stalin emerged not only as the head of the party and the state, but as dictator. In the struggle to impose his domination and to create a new bureaucratic state in the Soviet Union, Stalin carried out a thorough going counterrevolution, killing tens of thousands of political opponents and imposing policies that killed six million or more peasants. Western values—if that meant democracy and civil liberties—were never established in the Soviet Union and what little was achieved was destroyed by Stalin.

At the same time, the crisis of capital in the early twentieth century, the Great Depression and widespread political instability, led to the increasing decay of republican institutions in Western Europe, the rise of Fascism in Italy and Nazism in Germany, and then to the collapse of vaunted Western values, the destruction of democracy and the abolition of civil liberties. Hitler and Mussolini, as opponents of democracy and socialism, took political power in collaboration with sections of the capitalist class. They did not nationalize the economies of their countries, preferring to use their political power to subordinate finance and industry to their imperial agendas. One-party states were created, other parties were banned, labor unions were transformed into labor fronts with workers subordinated to capital. Opponents of the regime, bourgeois or leftist, both Social Democrats and Communists were imprisoned. Ethnic minorities were ghettoized and terrorized, followed by the Nazi holocaust and the murder of millions of Jews, Roma, Poles, Ukrainians and others who were considered Untermenschen, racially inferior. Needless to say, equality before the law, civil rights, and democracy were utterly eradicated. Over the years, many scholars have pointed to the similarities between the Nazi and Communist states, and some have referred to both Stalinist Russia and Nazi Germany as something like feudal societies and to Stalin and Hitler as the virtual monarchs. Be that as it may, many agree that both were totalitarian societies and both men dictators who abolished democracy and erased civil liberties.

From Western Values to Universal Values

The capitalist system—global from its beginnings—had become ever more integrated on a world scale in the nineteenth century. England, France, Holland and other European nations established empires with far-flung colonies in Africa, Asia, and Oceania. These empires not only brutally murdered many of the indigenous peoples but also established virtual enslavement of those they conquered. The spread of capitalism was not accompanied by the spread of parliamentary democracy or civil liberties; in most colonies the people had virtually no rights. But in that imperial era, through colonial schools, newspapers, and books, Western values—including the idea of socialism—reached and inspired many of the leaders and activists of the anti-colonial movements. In some of those colonies, working people recapitulated the history of European working people, creating labor unions, socialist parties, and fighting for democratic republics and civil rights. At the end of World War II, with many of the colonies seething with discontent and others in open rebellion, the European empires gradually collapsed. Many of the newly independent nations established republics and adopted constitutions that guaranteed civil liberties. Western values of democracy and civil liberties had become universal values.

Bourgeois democracy was on the march in the late 1940s. In Europe, with the victory of the allies and under the pressure of the Allies, the Nazi government of Germany and the Fascist government of Italy were dismantled and bourgeois democracies reestablished. In Asia, the U.S. government dethroned Japan’s emperor, dismantled the country’s military government, and wrote a new constitution that imposed a bourgeois democracy. In 1948 the newly established United Nations adopted the Universal Declaration of Human Rights that included not only the civil liberties that had been proclaimed a century and a half before in the Declaration of the Rights of Man, but also many social rights. For example, it declares:

Everyone has the right to work, to free choice of employment, to just and favorable conditions of work and to protection against unemployment. Everyone, without any discrimination, has the right to equal pay for equal work. Everyone who works has the right to just and favorable remuneration ensuring for himself and his family an existence worthy of human dignity, and supplemented, if necessary, by other means of social protection. Everyone has the right to form and to join trade unions for the protection of his interests.

While the United Nations has never had the capacity and its member nations never had the desire to enforce these rights, the U.N. having them adopted established a certain global standard to which we could aspire.

At the same time most of the newly independent former colonies also adopted these values. When India won its independence in 1947 it established a democratic constitution. Similarly with the former Dutch colony of Indonesia in 1949. In that post-war, post-colonial period democratic institutions were adopted by many nations in Asia and Africa. Western values became enshrined in constitutions and pervaded popular consciousness in much of the East and the Global South. Western values had become universal values. As we know, the reestablishment of bourgeois republicans in Western Europe meant the development once again of the contradictions between capitalism and democracy, often to the detriment of the latter. And in the former colonial world, many new independent nations became economic colonies dominated by the former imperial powers. Many such countries were only nominally democratic and some soon gave up even the appearance, some becoming dictatorships. Nevertheless, their constitutions had established a certain aspirational ideal toward which their people could aspire. When they existed in the Global South, democratic republics and civil liberties made it possible for working people to fight for power and to struggle to improve their lives.

The big exception to the adoption of these universal values of democracy and civil liberties in the post-war period was China. In China Mao Tse-tung’s Communist Party led a vast peasant army to victory against both Japan and the rightwing nationalist Kuomintang party. The Chinese Communist Party established a one-party state modeled on the Soviet Union of Joseph Stalin and also revived Confucian authoritarianism. Consequently, there was neither political democracy nor civil liberties, so that Mao and his party were able to hold on to power for decades, even as their policies led to disaster, with 45 million starved to death in the Great Famine of 1959-61 and a million more dead in the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution. When the Chinese Communist elite decided in the twenty-first century to adopt many capitalist practices, workers and peasants at first resisted, but without democratic rights soon succumbed.

Progressive Values from the Non-Western World

Our socialist values are not all Western, nor are they static. There is no doubt that other regions of the world with other civilizations and cultures have also contributed to the contemporary Left’s conception of important values. Throughout the world, pre-industrial societies often had at their base communal and collective institutions that we have come to value, though in their own regions and countries they were often subordinated to authoritarian and oppressive states that had in turn become subordinated to various empires and to the world market. One thinks of the democratic communal councils and collective land ownership and management of indigenous societies in Latin America, such as the ejido of Mexico, though one has to recognized these councils often excluded women and were frequently dominated by some clique or individual. Marx in his ethnographic notebooks examined and admired the democratic character of the confederation of the Iroquois. He recognized the potential of such institutions in his writing about the Russian mir and obschchina as a possible model for a transition in such societies to democratic socialism.

We on the left certainly embrace and defend these sorts of institutions when they are modernized and transformed, as in some cases they have been, to include women, as the Zapatistas claim to have done in Chiapas, Mexico. We can well imagine such institutions and practices forming part of progressive social movements and helping to construct future socialist societies.

Similarly in industrial societies all over the world, other institutions arose out of working-class experience, such as workers cooperatives that engaged in what is sometime called autogestion or self-management of the workplace. These workers too created councils in which all might participate and make decisions about their workplace democratically. Many conceived of this cooperative, autogestionary work as a contribution toward the establishment of socialism.

The Contemporary Conception of Universal Rights

Western values became universal values that today encompass more than parliamentary democracy and civil liberties, civil rights and labor rights. Cooperativists and the workers self-management movements in many parts of the world have enriched our conception of democratic values with the notion of workers’ control of production. People of color, feminists, and the LGBTQ+ movement, all fighting for equality, have enriched our conception of freedom, establishing the notion of the right of each human being to be able to give full expression to their ethnic and gender identity. We have through the women’s, LGBTQ, and trans rights movements come to have a greater appreciation of the importance of personal self-determination and decision making. Today everyone left of center understands that a country where people of color, women or LGBTQ+ people are not fully equal is not a free and democratic. At the same time, the environmental movement, with its concern for the future of the planet and all of the life on it, including human life, has also enriched our conception of human values to include protection of the earth. Environmentalists have also given us a greater understanding and appreciation of the role of indigenous people in protecting nature in all of its variety. All of these have become part of our universal democratic and socialist values.

While some on the left reject the idea that Western values have any worth, they must surely recognize that countries without these values, such as Russia and China do not be permit their citizens to engage in any of the political activities that those on the left are able to pursue in democratic countries. China doesn’t permit any criticism of the government and Russia doesn’t permit any opposition protests. In Russia human rights activists may be jailed and in China independent labor organizations have been shut down. Russia is engaged in a genocidal war to eliminate Ukraine and to erase the Ukrainian identity, while China has rounded up and put in concentration camps 1.8 million of the 12 million Uyghur and is pursuing cultural genocide against them by eradicating their ethnic identity. What would such Leftists—who here in the United States often fight for Black and Latinx and other minority rights and who work to organize workers into labor unions—do in Russia or China? I fear that they would very likely find themselves arrested, convicted, and sent to prison to sit and wonder how they got things so wrong, how they didn’t recognize that China and Russia have their own repressive state, their own exploitative social systems, and their own imperial agendas.

There is no doubt that Western values of democracy and civil liberties are in crisis today in the West and throughout the world because of the rise once again of rightwing movements, parties, and politicians in the United States, France and Germany, and of anti-democratic and authoritarian governments not only in Hungary, but also in Turkey and India, and in Nicaragua, Venezuela and Brazil. Then too there are the totalitarian governments—with varying degrees of repression—in Russia, China, North Korea, and Cuba where no opposition parties, no independent unions or social movements, and no expression of political opposition is permitted. The question then arises, are we leftists for the defense of democratic governments and civil rights?

We recognize, of course, that we are talking about very imperfect democracies, such as the United States where corporations dominate the Congress, rightwing politicians’ control about half of the state houses and legislatures, where the exploitation of workers has become ever more intense, and where Black and Latino people face mounting racism and repeated instances of racist police violence. Still, we know that in our imperfect democracies in the United States and Europe, as well as in some countries in Latin America, Africa, and Asia, we still have the possibility of exercising some influence over our governments—even of changing the political party in power—and of defending our civil rights and liberties, thus giving us the opportunity to organize social movements against racism and sexism and to organize labor movements to fight to improve workers’ conditions and struggle for socialism.

The Left and the U.S. Government

What does it mean that some of us on the left coincide with one or another capitalist politician and party on the question of the defense of bourgeois democracy? While we defend the same institutions, the democratic republic, equality before the law, and civil liberties and rights, we have very different interests. They defend those institutions because they wish to use them to perpetuate capitalism, with its banks and corporations, and with the attendant system of exploitation and oppression under which we now live, because the system benefits them. We, on the other hand, defend those democratic institutions and practices for utterly different and absolutely counterposed reasons, because we recognize they are key to the fight for a democratic socialist society. Our Bill of Rights allow us to speak and publish, to criticize and petition, to assemble and to protest, and all of that makes possible our struggle for workers power and socialist revolution. All of this, of course, as long as a reactionary Supreme Court doesn’t take them away.

When we on the left happen to coincide with the capitalist class or the government, does that mean that we support the U.S government? No. We can see that the U.S. government often doesn’t defend democracy or civil rights here at home, and frequently encroaches on them. The preservation of democracy in the United States and other countries depends on working people’s constant vigilance, mobilization, and confrontation with the state. But the existence of democratic institutions, however flawed, and of civil liberties, however deficient, make it possible for us to fight against the banks and corporations, against the government, and for social justice, workers power, and socialism.

If it does a poor job of defending democracy at home, the U.S. government’s foreign policy is even more egregious. Since World War II, the United States has puts itself forward as the leader of what it called the Free World, but after 1945 that world included fascist Spain and Portugal and numerous Western-backed dictatorships in Latin America and the Caribbean, Asia, Africa, and the Middle East. In its 75 years as leader of the so-called “Free World” the United States fought the Vietnam War that led to the death of more than two million people in South East Asia and the United States has overthrown democratic governments in Iran, Guatemala, and Chile, just to name a few, replacing them with more pliable regimes. The U.S. wars on Afghanistan and Iraq—for geopolitical supremacy and control of petroleum—took hundreds of thousands of lives. The full list of America’s anti-democratic interventions is too long to go into here. Today the United States is allied with Saudi Arabia, a reactionary theocratic monarchy led by King Salman who was responsible for the murderer of journalist Jamal Khashoggi and accountable for the horrific war and mass civilian deaths in Yemen. European nations such as France have their own long list of coups carried out to keep former colonies under their control. In the Global South, the United State is by no means the defender of the Western values or the universal values of democracy and civil liberties that it claims to be.

Despite that, one has to recognize that the people of the nations of Western Europe such as Sweden, France, or the Czech Republic enjoy far more democratic governments and more civil liberties than those of Russia, Belorussia, or Kazakhstan. Zelensky is correct when he says that Ukraine is defending Western values. While the Ukrainian government has serious problems—powerful oligarchs, corruption, and far right political movements—still it is far more democratic than Russia. Unlike Russia, Ukraine has rival politicians, competing parties, and alternative political platforms. In Ukraine—at least until Russia’s invasion— the media was largely if not entirely free to print and broadcast. The international working class and the left have every reason to support Ukraine as the frontline in the defense of freedoms that are now threatened in Western Europe.

At present, with Russian dictator Vladimir Putin waging war on Ukraine, the United States and European governments and capitalist classes by and large support Ukraine, as does and the internationalist, socialist left, but again for different reasons. The United States and the European Union wish to protect and expand the capitalist system, while Eastern Europeans fear Russia and want to stop its imperial expansion, and the Ukrainians fight to defend their country’s imperfect democracy, its leftist parties, and its labor unions. We on the socialist left also back Ukraine, but we support its democratic and social movements, and its labor unions. If we happen to coincide partially and temporarily with Western capitalism in defense of Ukraine, that represents no retreat from opposition to Volodymyr Zelensky’s neoliberal government and its anti-worker policies, nor to struggle against the country’s far right political organizations. Even while Ukraine fights against Russia, the class struggle continues within Ukraine.

The Question of NATO

What then about the question of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), the alliance of the United States and European nations founded in 1949? Is it a defender of Western values? Certainly, at the time of its establishment as a defensive alliance, NATO claimed to defend those value, the treaty’s preamble stating:

The Parties to this Treaty reaffirm their faith in the purposes and principles of the Charter of the United Nations and their desire to live in peace with all peoples and all governments. They are determined to safeguard the freedom, common heritage and civilization of their peoples, founded on the principles of democracy, individual liberty and the rule of law. They seek to promote stability and well-being in the North Atlantic area. They are resolved to unite their efforts for collective defense and for the preservation of peace and security. They therefore agree to this North Atlantic Treaty:

The founding members of NATO (Belgium, Canada, Denmark, France, Iceland, Italy, Luxembourg, Netherlands, Norway, Portugal, the United Kingdom, and the United States), were, with the exception of fascist Portugal, all bourgeois democracies. Several, however, were also imperial powers, colonial or neocolonial. And at the same time, as noted above, the United States was allied in other regions of the world with such autocracies as Saudi Arabia and in the 1950s and also organized coups to put compliant governments in place in Iran and Guatemala.

NATO was at its foundation clearly a U.S.-led bloc of capitalist governments and just as six years later the Soviet Union established the Warsaw pact, the bloc of Communist states (Albania, Bulgaria, Czechoslovakia, East Germany, Hungary, Poland, Romania, and the Soviet Union), though in that organization the Soviet Union was an imperial power dominating the others and not one of the Communist governments was a democratic republic and none had civil liberties. And when the people of those countries attempted to change their governments, as in Hungary in 1956, in Czechoslovakia in 1968, and in Poland in 1980, the Soviet Union either invaded as in the first two cases or supported a military clampdown as in the third.

With the fall of Communism and the Soviet Union in 1989-91, NATO might have been dissolved and some other regional security system devised, but the United States and the European nations saw NATO as a vehicle for expanding the West’s influence over former Eastern Bloc Communist nations and in 1995 began plans for expansion. While NATO reached out to Eastern European nations, it was those states that voluntarily decided to join, motivated by their own experiences of Soviet imperial domination for over fifty years. After Putin’s wars in Chechnya (1999-2000), Georgia (2008), and Ukraine (2014) demonstrating his imperial ambitions, the desire for the NATO shield grew stronger, as it has now again after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in 2022. Today Finland and Sweden have sought NATO membership, an attitude that is perfectly understandable and with which we can sympathize given the Russian war on Ukraine and these Nordic countries fear that they might be next on Putin’s list of future conquests.

Is NATO a defender of universal democratic values? Nearly all of the thirty NATO nations are democratic republics that recognize their citizens’ civil liberties, with all of the contradictions we have discussed that exist in all capitalist democracies. The two exceptions in NATO are Hungary and Turkey, authoritarian governments with heavily illiberal policies. Just as a matter of fact, on one side of the NATO line are Europe’s democracies, including Ukraine, and on the other the authoritarian governments of Russia, Belarus, and Kazakhstan. One is highly unlikely at this time to get a hearing in Eastern or Western Europe for the abolition of NATO. While NATO is not at war with Russia, NATO member nations are arming Ukraine. A majority of Europeans and many in other countries view NATO at this time as a bulwark against Russian aggression and the expansion of Putin’s authoritarian regime, much as many saw the Western democracies in the 1930s and 40s as they faced Hitler’s Nazi regime.

Some pacifists and some anti-imperialists, while condemning the Russian invasion, also oppose arming Ukraine and argue that NATO provoked the Russian invasion. Some socialists, looking back to the politics of Lenin and Trotsky at the time of the First World War, call for revolutionary defeatism among the nations of the NATO bloc and in Russia. We do not believe that either the pacifist or the Leninist slogans are appropriate for this moment in history. While we sympathize with the pacifists’ desire to end the violence, we believe the Ukrainians have the right to defend their national sovereignty and that we as socialists should stand by them. Today, with the left so weak, we do not believe that Lenin’s slogan—meant to turn war into revolution—is useful. We believe that we should stand with Ukraine against the Russian aggressor and support its getting arms wherever it can, while at the same time we stand for the eventual dismantlement of NATO. We should strive to replace NATO as soon as possible with an alternative international security structure where all nations in the region would feel secure and none threatened, ideally a system tending toward reducing troops and armaments.

The Future of Our Values

We on the left will have to continue to fight for these values that we cherish: democratic republics, civil liberties, racial and gender equality, workers’ rights, and care for the environment. We recognize that whatever democracy and civil liberties we enjoy were won by working people, and that working people will continue to be central to the struggle. We will defend bourgeois democracy, even while we fight the bourgeoisie, because we need democratic governments and civil liberties in order to organize unions, to create working class socialist parties, and to fight for socialism. And once we achieve socialism, we will need some sort of representative government and civil liberties in order to democratically govern a socialist society and ensure the rights of all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On Contradiction: Mao’s Party-Substitutionist Revolution in Theory and Practice – Part 3

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“The Reddest Reddest Red Sun in Our Heart, Chairman Mao”
(Women xinzhong zuihong zuihongde hong taiyang Mao zhuxi he women xin lianxin)

This is the third part of a four-part article. The other parts can be found here:

Part 1
Part 2
Part 4

V. FORGING THE “SUBSTITUTE PROLETARIAT”

The petty bourgeois intelligentsia as “substitute proletariat”

Mao and his comrades gradually, and almost unconsciously at first, began to assume the task of constructing a new subjectively socialist revolutionary social force. While maintaining the fiction of the “leading role of the proletariat” to mollify Stalin’s Comintern and the urban-centric Central Committee in Shanghai, Mao and his seconds Liu Shaoqi, Kang Sheng and others began the task of creating an entirely new communist party out of mostly petit bourgeois elements: students, teachers, patriotic intellectuals, journalists, artists, déclassé sons of the gentry, defecting GMD officers and soldiers, millions of peasants, and even lumpen bandits — converting the Communist Party itself into a mass party, a new social agency, a “new class” – what Paul Sweezy would later term a “substitute proletariat.”[61]

After losing tens of thousands of veteran communist workers and organizers in the coups of 1926-27, in the white terror that followed, in fighting off GMD attacks on the first rural soviets, and on the Long March, by the 1930s the Party was almost entirely composed of illiterate and semi-literate peasants – very far from proletarian pamphleteers. The Party badly needed educated cadre who could read and write, organize, produce propaganda, administer base-area governments — and eventually administer a future communist national government and economy. Thus in a Central Committee decision in 1939 Mao stressed the need for the party to recruit petty-bourgeois intellectuals: “Without the participation of the intellectuals, victory and the revolution will be impossible.”[62]

To this end, in 1936 the CCP leadership had launched what turned out to be a brilliant and highly effective propaganda campaign to attract patriotic urban intellectuals to remote Yan’an. In this campaign Edgar Snow’s 1936 bestseller Red Star Over China — systematically edited by Mao himself to ensure that it projected the correct message — played an outsized role not only in mobilizing liberal-left Western cheerleaders but also in mobilizing urban Chinese to join the CCP, as Julia Lovell describes in fascinating detail.[63] “Mao’s aims,” Snow declared, were “to awaken [China’s millions] to a belief in human rights, to combat the timidity, passiveness, and static faiths of Taoism and Confucianism, to educate, to persuade … them … to fight for a life of justice, equality, freedom, and human dignity.”[64]

The book was a sensation. “Translated into Chinese, it convinced crowds of young, educated liberals and patriots — in the mainland and across the Chinese diaspora — to abandon their urban existences and trek to the northwest to serve Mao’s revolution as organizers, administrators, and propagandists.” Translated into dozens of other languages it became a handbook for Third World revolutionaries around the world.[65]

After Japan invaded China in 1937, the CCP and GMD negotiated a truce and agreed to form a Second United Front against the invaders, CCP mobilization and recruitment went into overdrive. Mao’s generals Zhu De, Peng Dehuai, He Long, and others led the Eighth Army deep into North China to establish additional base areas. The Red Army grew from fewer than 30,000 men to 250,000 by autumn 1938. Parallel with the military build-up, tens of thousands of patriotic and leftist intellectuals frustrated by Chiang Kai-shek’s crumbling resistance, began trekking out to the Mecca of revolutionary Yan’an to join the Communist “saviors of the nation” and experience for themselves the promised utopia.

These new intellectual recruits were inspired by the May Fourth movement’s celebration of science and democracy. Before he co-founded the CCP Chen Duxiu had been the leading intellectual light of the May Fourth movement, famously calling for “Mr. Science” and “Mr. Democracy” to replace Mr. Confucius.[66] Thus many volunteers bought the CCP promise of a “new democratic revolution.” In the words of Dai Qing, “Young people searching for a way to rescue the nation had broken through the lines of the KMT and Japanese blockade and had arrived at or were on their way to Yan’an – the barren yellow dirt plateau that in the young people’s passionate aspirations was a holy place without exploitation and suppression, wherein equality, freedom, and democracy reigned.”[67] One young volunteer described his feeling: “At last we saw the heights of Yenan city. We were so excited we wept. We cheered from our truck…. . We started to sing the “Internationale” and Russia’s Motherland March.'”[68]

“Yan’an spring” 1937-38

Yet, Yan’an soon turned out to be the opposite of what they had expected. Instead of critical thinking they found dogmatic instruction including rote memorization and recitation of Party texts mimicking Confucian pedagogical methods. Instead of equality and comradely-shared sacrifice, they found a rigid hierarchy in which everything from the quantity and quality of food, to housing, health care, uniforms, and access to information, were all allocated by six categories of rank. Instead of democracy they found authoritarianism, enforced collectivism, enforced subordination of the individual to the Party. Instead of sexual equality they found rampant sexism. The young volunteers were spirited revolutionaries willing to sacrifice for the cause. But their May Fourth-inspired independence, anti-authoritarianism, feminism, critical thinking and pro-democratic political instincts were a threat to the Confucian Stalinized top-down CCP and Mao’s vision.[69]

In the years before 1939 when Mao was not yet in charge and had not yet seized control of the schools and institutes, the atmosphere in Yan’an was relatively free. Mao, Wang Ming, Zhu De, and other Party leaders wore simple clothes, spoke casually with young people, and were unaccompanied by retinues. Young people addressed Party leaders as “Comrade Wang Ming,” “Comrade Enlai [Zhou Enlai],” or “Comrade Bo Gu” without adding titles such as secretary or director. Relations between men and women were fairly relaxed. Young women felt able to “cast off their chains and feel liberated.” “Taking their cue from Alexandra Kollontai, sexual desire was considered ‘as natural as thirst.’” Revolutionary romantic attachments bloomed. “For a time,” historian Gao Hua writes, “Yan’an rang out with laughter and cheer and it seemed to have become a utopia for the young” in the “idealism-filled days of 1937 and 1938.” [70] 

But once the Comintern endorsed him as “supreme [political] leader” of the Party in September 1938, Mao “moved forward with full confidence as he seized all Party and military authority from the Soviet faction.”[71] The turning point came at a critical five-day senior cadres Politburo meeting in September 1941 where Mao delivered withering sarcastic and mocking critiques of Wang Ming, Zhang Wentian, Bo Gu, Wang Jiaxiang, and the rest over their history of failed military strategies and their dogmatic adherence to classical Marxist precepts which in Mao’s words were “divorced from reality” in the Chinese context. The Comintern faction capitulated, disintegrated, and lost control over the CCP from then on. Wang Ming bowed to Mao, resigned from the leadership and never again played a leading role.[72] Other opponents criticized themselves and groveled in hopes of forgiveness from the rising Red Sun. Liu Shaoqi, Chen Yun, Ye Jianyang, and others in Mao’s own faction issued their own self-criticisms, extoled Mao to his face with fawning tributes as “the model and exemplar for Marxists,” as “dialectical materialism incarnate,” as the “Greatest Chinese leader ever” and so on.[73] Mao lapped it up and relentlessly promoted this self-glorification, demanding unconditional submission from subordinates.[74] From that point on we can say that the CCP had become effectively a totalitarian Stalinist-Maoist party and the cult of Mao begun in earnest. Minority views or even majority views that did not accord with Mao’s henceforth invited punishment.

Bureaucratic centralism displaces democratic centralism

In 1938 Mao assumed command of an already more or less fully Stalinized, bureaucratic-centralized party and he set about in the late 1930s and early 1940s eliminating the last vestiges of independent thinking in Yan’an and the base areas. Mao himself had already become a thoroughgoing Stalinist and wannabe totalitarian as early as 1929 when, addressing the Ninth Congress of the Fourth Red Army in the Kiangsi Soviet, he complained that “ultra-democracy is still deep-rooted in the minds of many comrades.” Comrades persist in making such “erroneous demands as that the Red Army should apply ‘democratic centralism from the bottom to the top’ or should ‘let the lower levels discuss all problems first, and then let the higher levels decide.’ It was imperative, he said, to “destroy the roots of ultra-democracy” and “ensure democracy under guidance” by enforcing the following rules: [paraphrasing: (1) the individual must obey the organization, (2) the minority must obey the majority, (3) lower echelons must obey higher echelons, and (4) the entire Party must obey the Central Committee”].[75] In short: Leaders make decisions, the rank and file carry them out. This is CCP “democracy” from Mao to Xi Jinping.

Of course one could say that after all this was an army and where is there any democratic army? True, but Mao insisted that the Red Army was not just a fighting force. It was a party-army, a political army:

[Some comrades] think that the task of the Red Army like that of the White army, is merely to fight. They do not understand that the Chinese Red Army is an armed body for carrying out the political tasks of the revolution…. The Red Army fights not merely for the sake of fighting but in order to conduct propaganda among the masses, organize them, arm them, and help them to establish revolutionary political power. Without these objectives, fighting loses its meaning and the Red Army loses the reason for its existence.

Besides, Mao didn’t confine his enforcement of top-down bureaucratic centralism to the army. Like Stalin, he generalized it to the entire Party and government. This naturally raises the question, “why shouldn’t rank and file civilian or military cadres have the right to offer input, discuss policy alternatives, and vote on decisions about ‘the political tasks of the revolution?’”

Origins of terror, torture, and the mass murder of comrades

At the beginning of Mao’s 1942 “Rectification Campaign” one of the young volunteers in Yan’an, Wang Shi-wei – a famous leftist writer and translator of Marx, Lenin, and Trotsky into Chinese — had the nerve to pose just this question. Wang penned several essays in the Party newspaper Jiefang ribao (Liberation Daily) criticizing Party authoritarianism, sexism, suppression of free speech, and the growing alienation of young people. His essay “Wild Lilies” depicted the rise of a “new privileged authoritarian class” already in the 1930s[76] and appealed for a humane and democratic socialism. He wasn’t criticizing hierarchy and ranks in the military. He understood that armies aren’t democracies. He was criticizing the internal regime of the Party. His essay, “Politicians and Artists” proposed a separation of powers, confining Party power to politics while leaving artists and writers free both to “arouse the revolution’s spiritual forces” and also criticize the “darkness” wherever it was found. [77] His essays were widely popular among the new recruits.

Mao’s response was “Who’s in charge here, Karl Marx or Wang Shiwei?” In fact Wang and Marx were on the same page with respect to democracy. It was the aspiring dictator Mao Zedong who was contradicting Marx’ democratic ethos. Mao “demanded the editors admit their fault in allowing such a work to be published and pledge to avoid any such error in the future.”[78] Then he put Wang on trial and charged him with leading an alleged “Five Member Anti-Party Gang” — China’s first show trial. The Party’s senior cadre and the new intellectual recruits were compelled to condemn Wang. Artist Ai Weiwei recalls how his father, the poet Ai Qing, caved:

Under the pressure to conform, everyone sank into an ideological swamp of “criticism” and “self-criticism.” My father repeatedly wrote self-critiques, and when controls on thought and expression rose to the level of threatening his very survival, he, like others wrote an essay denouncing Wang Shiwei, the author of ‘Wild Lilies,’ taking a public stand against his inner convictions.[79]

Wang’s real offense was that he refused to recant, bow his head, admit errors, grovel and conform to Mao’s authority. So Mao had him locked up in a cave for five years and then on July 1, 1947, a subordinate of Mao’s dragged Wang out of his cave and chopped his head off.[80]

Yet this gratuitous murder of a Party comrade on trumped-up charges was no aberration on Mao’s part. By the 1940s he was already accomplished in the tools and practices of terror, torture, cruelty, and gruesome mass murder. During the Kiangsi Soviet in 1930-32 Mao purged his opponents with a campaign of red terror against a supposed “Anti-Bolshevik League” (AB League for short). According to Nanjing University historian Gao Hua, Mao’s campaign “encouraged the extortion of confessions under torture and a policy of ‘killing without mercy’” that culminated in mass rallies and the execution of “Party members who came from landlord or rich-peasant families as well as complainers and malcontents.” “In less than one month, more than 4,400 of the Red Army’s 40,000 men, many of them ardent young volunteers, were identified as members of the AB League and … were put to death.”[81]

Mao not only ordered the slaughters but also approved Li’s torture of comrades to obtain confessions:

Li Shaojiu used various forms of torture on these comrades until they were “a mass of wounds” and “their fingers were broken and their bodies were burned so badly that they could not move” with some dying on the spot. Whenever torture was employed, Li Shaojiu was always present. According to contemporary records, the tortured comrades “shook the heaven with cries that lingered in ones ears as every available form of torture was applied.” On December 8, wives of Li Baifang, Ma Ming, and Zhou Mian visited their husbands in detention, but they were then also arrested as members of the AB League. They were similarly tortured, with bamboo strips driven under their fingernails, their genitals burned with incense sticks, and their breasts cut with small knives.[82]

The AB League massacres were, as far as I’m aware, the first mass murders of Communist Party cadres by Mao’s partners in crime. They weren’t his last. In 1937, Mao launched his own campaign of terror against Trotskyists. Again, it was not enough just to shoot them. Mao let loose his Rottweiler Kang Sheng (since 1936 head of the Office for the Elimination of Counterrevolutionaries and trained by Stalin’s NKVD secret police in Moscow where he is said to have “eliminated” hundreds of Chinese Trotskyist students) and his crew who delighted in secret orgies torturing and murdering hundreds more Trotskyists – years before he put Wang Shiwei on trial. I’ll spare the reader details of the “72 methods” of torture employed by Mao’s sadists and their inventive means of mutilating and killing their comrades.[83]

Social engineering the virtuous communist mandarinate

Once he had secured monopoly control of the military in 1935 and formal political control of the Party and government in 1938, Mao turned to the task of achieving ideological supremacy: dethroning the last of the Soviet faction, and establishing his own “revision of Marxism” (substituting the peasantry for the urban proletariat, substituting guerilla war for workers’ insurrection, replacing democracy with dictatorship, and replacing materialism with voluntarism) and remolding the Party cadre to instill in them the tenets of Maoism. The “Thought of Mao Zedong” would be enshrined in both the Preamble to the revised Party Constitution of 1945 and in the first rewrite of Party history: “Resolution on Certain Questions in the History of Our Party” (April 1945).[84]

To this end, Mao reorganized the Party’s training schools, put himself and Kang Sheng in charge and imposed a radically new Confucian-Stalinist curriculum based on 22 short texts, mostly written by Mao and Liu Shaoqi. Gao Hua says that Yan’an became “virtually a college town” with schools disseminating CCP ideology, teaching military arts, and playing a key role in Yan’an’s political life.[85] By 1939, Yan’an City had a population of about 6-7,000 local residents and 30,000 young volunteers, cadres, and soldiers. The eight-year long Second United Front gave Mao the freedom from most fighting to use his schools to as Gao Hua put it, “stockpile and maintain a senior cadre corps” of future government administrators and managers.[86] During the eight years of the United Front with the KMT from 1937 and 1945 Party membership grew from 40,000 to 1,200,000 and its military forces from 30,000 to one million plus another million militia support groups, and they governed nineteen base areas with nearly a hundred million people.[87] By 1949 Party membership would soar to 4.5 million.[88]

The schools were established to train a new revolutionary-cum-ruling class, to be a politicized party-bureaucracy of competent, disciplined, incorruptible, and obedient organizers, propagandists, managers, and administrators who would govern the base areas and eventually the whole country as beneficent dictators over and above society — not unlike the Mandarin scholar-officials of the ancien regime.

But the notion of Party cadres as beneficent dictators posed a two-fold problem: First, without democratic elections there was no way to hold those officials accountable to society. Second, without inner-party democracy there was no way to hold the Party leaders accountable to the membership. Without democracy, what was to prevent the substitute proletariat from morphing into a new ruling class, serving themselves instead of the people? This idealist theme of a permanently self-reforming substitute proletariat was the central contradiction that ran through Mao’s thought from Yan’an to the Cultural Revolution. His “solution” at this stage was to try to social engineer his cadre into an upright, self-denying, self-disciplining, self-reforming “virtuous” elite by combining elements of Confucianism and Stalinism.

Mao’s synthesis of Confucianism and Stalinism

It’s deeply ironic that while the Chinese Communist Party was born in struggle against the shackles of traditional Confucianism, when Mao set about social engineering his “New Men” and “New Women” in Yan’an, he sourced neither Marx nor Lenin but Confucius and Stalin — prompting the Chinese Trotskyist Wang Fanxi to ask rhetorically “How could an idealist, ‘feudal,’ class-bound Confucianism be an integral part of Mao’s communist ideology?” And “not just a source but an enduring component.”[89] Wang, like many China scholars, tends to see Mao’s “residual” Confucianism as an aberration, a cultural hangover from his pre-Marxist days. But what this approach fails to appreciate is how central and essential Confucianism was to Mao’s whole project of constructing a “substitute proletariat” – his scholar-official like “communist mandarinate” revolutionary-ruling class.

Mao copied plenty from Stalin: his top-down bureaucratic centralism; his party-state organizational structure that insured party control of all institutions of government, military and civil society; his shameless vilification of veteran Bolsheviks as “opportunists,” and “enemies of the people”; his ruthless use of terror and violence to destroy the so-called “old Bolsheviks”; his mendacious rewriting of official history to glorify himself; his primitive thought reform that Mao systematized and developed, and more.[90]

But he also copied plenty from Confucianism because it uniquely and conveniently suited his need to engineer his communist mandarinate. Confucianism assumed that human beings were perfectible through instruction, self-cultivation, emulation of virtuous models, and lifelong self-reform. In his book Creating The “New Man” Yinhong Cheng writes that that “[t]he Confucian ideas of ren (benevolence), li (sense of propriety), and xiao (filial piety) were all exalted moral qualities embodied in junzi — an ideal moral person [aka superior man].”[91] In Confucian China ordinary people sought virtue by respecting Confucian ethical principles and “rectifying” their behavior such that each member of the family fulfilled the duties and obligations required of their position and accepted the limits of his/her rank in the patriarchal social order (younger son submits to elder son, wife to husband, family to state, etc.). To the extent that one can discern a coherent political ideology in the fortune cookie maxims and parables attributed in the Analects and other collections to The Sage, Confucius held that the cultivation of virtuous leaders was the key to good governance. A junzi virtuous administrator, Cheng tells us, disciplines himself, refrains from self-indulgence and governs in the interest of society. By contrast, xiaoren, a “small or petty” person or official, is egotistic, self-indulgent, seeks power and fame, and his governance suffers in result.[92] The job of Mao’s schools was to combine Stalinism and Confucianism to train this virtuous communist mandarinate ruling class.

Speaking at the founding of one of those schools in 1937 Mao emphasized the necessity of building character, moral uprightness, and selflessness in the “vanguard” of the revolution in prose that updated Confucius:

We must educate … the kind of people who are the vanguard of the Revolution, who have political farsightedness, who are prepared for battle and sacrifice, who are frank, loyal, positive and upright; the kind of people who seek no self-interest, but only national and social emancipation…. [93]

And again:

At no time and in no circumstances should a Communist place his personal interests first; he should subordinate them to the interests of the nation and of the masses. Hence, selfishness, slacking, corruption, seeking the limelight, and so on, are most contemptible, while selflessness, working with all one’s energy, whole-hearted devotion to public duty, and quiet hard work will command respect.[94]

The Confucian moral education of the upright communist official was the foundation of Communist Party schools in Yan’an — and remains so to this day. Thus in June 2020 Xi Jinping’s People’s Daily front page sermon explaining “How to measure up as a party member in the New Era” was all about morality, character, feudal tradition, and emulation of virtuous public servants:

The country does not prosper without virtue … Party members … should be the practitioners of good moral character, the general public’s moral benchmark…. All party members, especially leading cadres, must talk about cultivation, morality, integrity, cultivate the high moral character of the Communist Party…. Party members and cadres must … consciously draw nutrients from the excellent Chinese traditional culture, always and everywhere … strengthen self-discipline and … carry forward the spirit of Jiao Yulu [touted as a “heroic” 1960s Henan province party secretary].[95]

Needless to say, none of this moralistic claptrap has any roots in Marx, Lenin, or even Stalin. This is all straight out of Confucius, Mencius and Xunzi.

Thought reform of the intellectuals

To enforce this “thought revolution” the first task was to, as the communists themselves called it: xinao, “wash the brains” of the students. Yan’an’s young recruits and older cadres as well were subjected to intense pressure, required to engage in “criticism and self-criticism” (piping yu ziwo piping, or jiantao) to examine their “mistakes and shortcomings,” to express their feelings of guilt regret over their petit bourgeois backgrounds. They were ordered to write running confessions about their personal and family histories and reveal their “bad thoughts.” These became the basis of the first dossiers in Communist China – a record that would follow individuals for the rest of their lives.[96] These confessions were regularly examined and criticized by the teacher and the whole class who then demanded more, deeper self-reflection and longer confessions. Students were made to publicly humiliate themselves often in front of large audiences. They were told to “draw a line” between themselves and their bourgeois parents, renounce their past, renounce individualism, swear unconditional loyalty and obedience to the Party and to Mao, and declare their heartfelt gratitude to the Party for their redemption. Recalcitrants were subjected to “struggle” sessions, sometimes before mass audiences of thousands. Incorrigibles were imprisoned and sometimes executed.[97]

Mass Mobilization the Yan’an Way

The Communist Party’s victory was hardly foreordained. Mao’s guerilla road to revolution was novel but had no guarantee of success. The Party had been all but destroyed twice in 1927 and again in 1934. In 1936 the remnant party-army was still no mass popular movement. What saved the CCP this time were the Japanese invasions of 1931 and 1937. In 1931 the Japanese occupied Manchuria. Chiang offered no resistance. When the Japanese invaded in force in 1937 to seize the whole country, Chiang’s armies retreated southward, abandoning the capital and major cities one after another to end up in southwest Sichuan province. Given a choice between the incompetent, corrupt, and dictatorial GMD and the Communists, most Chinese chose the Communists and hoped for the best. That said, to their credit, Mao Zedong and his comrades built a massive popular movement to support the Red Army, a story celebrated by Western authors and scholars from Edgar Snow’s Red Star Over China to Mark Selden’s Yenan Way in Revolutionary China.

To improve the peasants’ livelihood and mobilize existing resources for the war effort, the communists organized agricultural and industrial cooperatives and sponsored literacy campaigns and medical programs. These relied on primitive technology, “men over machines,” popular initiatives, and local self-reliance. They were designed to overcome the peasants’ fatalism, to give them the confidence in their capacity to win the war and the revolution. It was the Party’s consistent and ever more refined application of these policies that enabled the Party to win the active support of the rural villagers who fed, clothed and hid the Red Army, provided it with spies, informants and recruits, and permitted the party-army to move through village society as “fish in the sea.”[98]

“From the masses to the masses”? Where do correct ideas come from?

Through the more than two decades of anti-Japanese war and civil war the Party crucially depended upon voluntary mass support in the rural base areas and it could not force this. Setting a moral example and establishing “clean governments” sharply distinguished the Communists from the corrupt and plunderous Guomindang -governments and military. As Mao wrote in 1928:

Every Communist engaged in government work should set an example of absolute integrity, of freedom from favouritism in making appointments and of hard work for little remuneration. Every Communist working among the masses should be their friend and not a boss over them, an indefatigable teacher and not a bureaucratic politician.[99]

The Party sought to elicit active participation of the masses by persuasion rather than diktat, what Mao termed “mass line” (qunzhong luxian) politics. In one of the most famous quotations in all of Mao’s work, from a 1943 Politburo resolution on leadership, he said:

In all the practical work of our Party, all correct leadership is necessarily “from the masses, to the masses.” This means: take the ideas of the masses (scattered and unsystematic ideas) and concentrate them (through study turn them into concentrated and systematic ideas), then go to the masses and propagate and explain these ideas until the masses embrace them as their own, hold fast to them and translate them into action, and test the correctness of these ideas in such action.[100]

In the high tide of Western Maoism in the 1960s and 70s Maoist China scholars wrote no end of nonsense about this “fundamental principle” of the Party. They took Mao’s text to mean that the peasants themselves were the source of manifold “correct ideas,” that the Party was merely “learning from the masses,” articulating their ideas, and implementing policies that reflected their wishes – even, some argued, superior to “Western liberal democracy.” Thus Stanford University economist John Gurley told us that “the politically conscious leadership listened to the “largely inarticulate, largely illiterate and politically undeveloped mass of the local community, learns from the community … sums up these ideas … then returns them to the masses in articulate form … and with the agreement of the majority, puts the consequent practices into practice….”[101] Even today, London School of Economics Professor Lin Chun suggests that Mao’s mass line approach is superior to Western democracy: “Instead of competing ‘interest groups’ of liberal democracies, this form of politics and governance seeks to integrate public preference for sound policymaking while minimizing cleavages and mistakes [and resting upon] the premise of the sovereignty of the people.”[102]

Rubbish. “With the agreement of the majority.” Please. When did Mao ever put any decision up for popular vote? For all the reasons I’ve adduced above — the incapacity of isolated, illiterate, economically backward peasants to lead their own revolution much less conceive of an alternative social order; the need to restrain poor-peasant “left excesses” in order to maintain a multi-class united front; Mao’s own explicitly derisive opinion of backward localist-minded peasants who hadn’t a clue about modern industry or imperialism; and Mao’s own fierce hostility to democracy, imbued by his elitist Confucian schooling, reinforced by the Stalinist culture of the CCP, put into practice with his criminal direction of torture and executions of thousands of comrades who simply differed with him over policy issues – for all his “from the masses to the masses” mumbo jumbo, he knew very well that it was not from the peasant masses that the correct strategy and tactics for successful national liberation war came from; it was not from the peasant masses that Five-Year industrialization plans were developed; it was not from the peasants that the vision of socialism came, but from above, from the Party, especially from the leadership, and especially from the Great Helmsman himself. So while he insisted that the cadre “must listen to” the masses, Mao warned at the same time against ”an erroneous emphasis on “doing everything as the masses want it done and an accommodation to wrong views existing among the masses.”[103]

Once the CCP had abandoned the urban working class, democracy would no longer be possible. The only way to steer a multi-class mass movement whose basic interests were not in the direction of socialism, was for the substitute proletariat to constitute itself not merely as the political leadership of the struggle but as a proto-ruling class over and above the masses.

Even Mark Selden, the most sympathetic historian of the Yan’an period, emphasized that while the Party supported local government elections to win popular support, they were designed to elicit mass participation but not democratic control from below. The Party insured that real political power and control remained firmly and exclusively in its hands:

Although the laws stipulated that all anti-Japanese parties were entitled to campaign, there was at the time but one party, the Communist…. This did not eliminate debate, discussion, or criticism, nor did it assure that all candidates elected were party members. Indeed, party branches had not yet been established in large areas of the border region. But it redefined the grounds for discussion: this focused more often on policy implementation than on formulation of policy guidelines, and on the performance of individual officials and local issues where there was considerable latitude for maneuvering within established policies. Finally, elected government was never the ultimate authority: rather it was but one facet of New Democratic politics in which power was shared by the party, the bureaucracy, the army, and mass organizations…. The party remained the ultimate arbiter in policy matters.[104]

Unsurprisingly, such built-in elitist practices regularly generated complaints about “commandism” and “bureaucratism” if not yet significant economic corruption – that would come later. But so long as Mao was determined that the substitute proletariat should rule unencumbered, then such tendencies would become endemic and it would be impossible to prevent the party-bureaucracy from morphing into a new ruling class.

The intelligentsia as a class for itself

The Red Army, as Liu Shaoqi described it, was the ”crucible” that forged the revolutionary cadre into an independent political force:

More than twenty years of civil war and national war have steeled our Party…. They have had to undergo a stern ideological and organizational schooling and tempering: as a result, their class-consciousness and collective will have been raised and their sense of organization and discipline strengthened.[105]

Decades of guerilla warfare and intense Maoist political indoctrination also forged the substitute proletariat into a revolutionary class for itself, imbued with a vision of its own superiority and indispensability since it was the font of all “correct ideas.” Indeed, the party-army-bureaucracy had already become the de facto ruling class in the base areas for more than a decade before 1949. As historian Maurice Meisner described it:

The Party emerged from the revolutionary years as a highly disciplined and tightly knit organization with a membership of nearly 5,000,000. Two decades of armed struggle had imparted a military-like discipline to its organization…. Its cadres were not only experienced revolutionary organizers but also experienced governmental administrators – and they possessed a strong sense of national consciousness and purpose. Functioning as a quasi-government long before the formal establishment of the People’s Republic, the Party provided the main organizational base, leadership, and methods of mass organization for the new state…. The pattern was repeated down to the lowest levels of the state structure;…. Between 1949 and 1952 the organizational web of the CCP was woven throughout the fabric of Chinese society….

Although the new political order [the so-called New Democracy] was officially represented as based on an alliance of four social classes and appropriately decorated with “democratic personalities,” the locus of state power resided in the CCP which officially represented itself as the party of the proletariat. Or more accurately, political power rested with the Party’s Central Committee (which had forty-four members in 1949) and more particularly with its 14-member Political Bureau (Politburo); or more precisely still, the levers of state power were in the hands of the five men who made up the latter’s Standing Committee in 1949: Mao Zedong, Liu Shaoqi, Zhou Enlai, Zhu De, and Chen Yun.[106]

Substitute proletariat or substitute bourgeoisie?

In the event, for all its internal contradictions, Mao’s revolution was a stunning triumph. With the end of WWII the Guomindang crumbled and as U.S. patience with Chiang Kai-shek wore out and the U.S. aid was reduced, Mao’s peasant armies swept into the cities with relatively little opposition. His party-army overthrew the old regime, kicked out the last of the imperialists, united the country, wiped out the old gentry landed classes, and initiated forced-march industrialization. Simply put, Mao’s revolution succeeded where the bourgeois revolution of 1912 and the workers revolution of 1925-27 both failed. But instead of socialism, the substitute proletariat installed itself as the new ruling class. “Liberation” abolished old forms of exploitation and oppression to replaced them not with freedom but with new forms of exploitation, oppression, and unfreedom.

Maoism: revision or rejection of Marxism?

Mao claimed to have “revised” Marxism by substituting the peasants for the proletariat. But this both misrepresents and understates his actual accomplishment. Mao did not revise Marxism, he completed abandoned every tenet of Marxism. He kept the useful vocabulary but he rejected Marxist materialism for idealism and voluntarism, rejected workers’ democracy for a dictatorship of the substitute proletariat, rejected proletarian internationalism for ultra-nationalism and Han chauvinism, and rejected workers’ self-emancipation via insurrection for military conquest. His real accomplishment, and originality, was to provide the theoretical framework and political-military strategy for the post-war wave of party-substitutionist revolutions across the Third World, and the rationale for the dictatorship of the substitute proletariat.

[continued in part 4]

Notes

[61] On the social composition of the revolutionary party in the 1920s and 30s see Philip C.C. Huang, “Mao and the Middle Peasants, 1925-1928”, Modern China (July 1975) pp. 271- 296: and idem, “Intellectuals, lumpenproletarians, workers and peasants in the Communist movement,” in Philip C.C. Huang, Lynda Schafer Bell and Kathy Lemons Walker, Chinese Communists and Rural Society 1927-1934 (Berkeley: Center for Chinese Studies, 1978), pp. 5-28. Also Mao, “The Chinese revolution and the Chinese Communist Party,“ (1939).

[62] “Decision of the CC on the absorption of intellectual elements (December 1, 1939)”, Conrad Brandt, Benjamin Schwartz, and John K. Fairbank eds., A Documentary History of Chinese Communism (London: Allen and Unwin, 1952), 349; Mao Zedong, “Recruit large numbers of intellectuals.”

[63] Julia Lovell, Maoism: A Global History (London: The Bodley Head, 2019), chapter 2.

[64] Lovell, Maoism, 61-62.

[65] Lovell, Maoism, 62.

[66] See David Bandurski, “The May 4th Movement: How China buried ‘Mr. Democracy,’” Hong Kong Free Press, May 4, 2020.

[67] Dai Qing, Wang Shiwei and “Wild Lilies” (London, M.E. Sharpe, 1994), 10.

[68] Jung Chang and John Halliday, Mao, The Unknown Story (New York: Anchor, 2005), 234-35.

[69] Gao, Red Sun, 343; Frank Dikötter, The Tragedy of Liberation (New York: 2013), 174.

[70] Gao, Red Sun, 344-47, 369.

[71] Gao, Red Sun, 179, 279.

[72] Gao, Red Sun, 300-301, 318.

[73] Gao, Red Sun, 240. 303-308,

[74] Gao, Red Sun, 273-277.

[75] Mao, “On correcting mistaken ideas in the Party” (December 1929); Compton, Reform Documents, xli.

[76] Gao, Red Sun, 347.

[77] Gao, Red Sun, 343; Dai Qing, Wang Shiwei, 15-16; Gregor Benton and Alan Hunter, Wild Lily, Prairie Fire (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1995), Introduction.

[78] Ai Weiwei, 1000 Years of Joys and Sorrows (London: Bodley Head, 2021), 79.

[79] Ai, 1000 Years, 79.

[80] Dai, Wang Shiwei, 3.

[81] Gao, Red Sun, 20, and 10-30; and Lovell, Maoism, 76-77.

[82] Gao, Red Sun, 23-24. Regarding the extraction of those confessions through torture, Gao quotes General Xiao Ke who states in his 1982 memoir that “Even half a century later, one can only sigh in grief. Those of us who experienced this still cannot bear to recall it” (p. 24). In 1982 the Party admitted that the charges were fabricated and that there never was any Anti-Bolshevik League.

[83] See Gao, Red Sun, 477-482.

[84] Boyd, Reform Documents; Constitution of the Chinese Communist Party, June 11, 1945, in Conrad Brandt et al., A Documentary History of Chinese Communism (London: Allen and Unwin, 1952) 419-39; “Resolution On Certain Questions In The History Of Our Party,” adopted on April 20, 1945 by the Enlarged Seventh Plenary of the Sixth Central Committee of the Chinese Communist Party.

[85] David E. Apter and Tony Saich, Revolutionary Discourse in Mao’s Republic (Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1994) Appendix; Gao, Red Sun, 221-25.

[86] Gao, Red Sun, 224.

[87] Benjamin Yang, From Revolution to Politics: Chinese Communists on the Long March (New York: Westview 1990), 307. Kenneth Lieberthal, Governing China: From Revolution to Reform (New York: Norton, 2003), 43-48.

[88] Lian Xi, Blood Letters (New York: Basic Books, 2018), 258-59 footnote 40.

[89] Wang, Mao Zedong Thought, 73.

[90] On what Mao learned from Stalin’s History of the CPSU see Gao, Red Sun, 199-203. On copying Stalin’s organization structure see Boyd Compton, Mao’s China Party Reform Documents 1942-1944 (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1952), xl-xlii.

[91] Cheng, Creating the “New Man”: From Enlightenment Ideals to Socialist Realities (Univ. of Hawaii Press, 2009), 49.

[92] Cheng, Creating the “New Man,” 59-70.

[93] Jerome Chen, Mao Papers (London: Oxford University Press, 1970), 11; Cheng, 61-62.

[94] Mao, “The role of the Chinese Communist Party in the national war,” (1938).

[95] Xi Jinping, “How to measure up as a party member in the New Era?” People’s Daily, June 30, 2020, trans. by David Cowhig.

[96] Peter J. Seybolt, “Terror and conformity,” Modern China, 12.1 (January 1986), 45.

[97] Seybolt, “Terror,” 46-47. See also the biography of one such student, in Lian Xi, Blood Letters.

[98] Selden, The Yenan Way in Revolutionary China (Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1971).

[99] Mao, “The role of the CCP in the national war” (1938).

[100] Mao, “Some questions concerning methods of leadership,” SW III.

[101] Jack Gray and Patrick Cavendish, Chinese Communism in Crisis: Maoism and the Cultural Revolution (New York: Praeger, 1968), 49-50. Selden, Yenan Way, 274-276 and passim.

[102] “Mass Line,” in Christian Sorace et al., Afterlives of Chinese Communism (Verso: 2019), 121-22.

[103] Mao, Selected Works (Beijing: Foreign Languages Press, 1977) 4, 197.

[104] Selden, Yenan Way, 135 (italics in original).

[106] Meisner, Mao’s China and After (New York: Free Press, 1977), 63-64.

Weaponizing Antisemitism “Makes Jews of Color Less Safe”

Interview with Anna Rajagopoal
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Death to colonialism means the end of Zionism. It means the destruction of statehood, walls and borders. It means the end of apartheid, police and any other tools of the colonizer.

An example of the comments that got Anna targeted by right-wing group Stop Antisemitism.

A 21 year-old Rice University student and Jew of South Asian ethnicity, Anna Rajagopal was recently hired as a social media consultant for the Jewish social justice organization Avodah. Anna, who uses “they” and “she” pronouns, is also a student activist who co-founded their campus’s chapter of Students for Justice in Palestine. This past Saturday, an organization called Stop Antisemitism posted a hit piece criticizing Anna’s anti-Zionist advocacy and even questioning the sincerity of “her alleged conversion to Judaism.” They urged readers to “email Avodah’s CEO Cheryl Cook and demand Avodah cut ties with this rabid antisemite.” A couple days later, Cook indeed informed Anna that the group was letting them go. I spoke with Anna about what Judaism and anti-Zionism mean to them, what it’s like being a Jew of color, and how this controversy has been affecting them. -DF

Anna Rajagopal

Anna, why did you convert to Judaism, and what was the conversion process like?

Sure. So, I’m not entirely sure why my conversion is necessarily relevant to the smear campaign, other than the anti-convert sentiment that Stop Antisemitism and other Zionists pundits have expressed. But I converted when I was a preteen, when I was a child, and I’ve talked about this numerous occasions across my social media platforms because I’m very open and very honest about the conversion process, about what it’s like to be a childhood convert, and about what it’s like to be raised in Judaism through conversion. For me, really, it was the age-old, telltale tug of the heart. Judaism spoke to me as a child in ways that nothing else really did, and it seemed to fill a space that was missing or a hole that was missing in my life in a way that it continues to do so for me and for my family. And so my conversion process was spurred by, really, an introduction to Judaism, by the book All-of-a-Kind Family, which was written in the early 50s, that I picked up from the Dallas Public Library. And I read the book and felt an immediate connection to Judaism and wanted to learn more about it desperately.

And my conversion process was really formative. I mean, obviously it turned me into a Jew, so to speak, although I would contend that all our souls were at Sinai.1 But my conversion process was a formative part of who I am, not just as a Jewish person, but as just a human being in general. It was beautiful. It was meaningful. It shaped me, it shaped my family, it shaped my community. It’s a story that I am proud and happy to relay, because I think that conversion often faces a lot of stigma, and that converts face a lot of stigma. I think that conversion is actually quite beautiful. From the mikvah2 to the beit din3 to consulting with rabbis, I think that the conversion process is something that for me, was arguably one of the most impactful processes that I’ve ever gone through in my life in a positive light.

Is there a connection between your Jewish identity and your broader politics which you describe as decolonial and anti imperialist?

Absolutely. I’m very strongly rooted in the anti-imperialist and decolonialist, anti-Zionist, Jewish movement. I do a lot of work for that movement on campus, through Students for Justice in Palestine Rice, which I helped co-found this past semester. I do a lot of work online for mutual aid and fundraising, and I do a lot of intra-community and inter-community work between Jewish folks and our Palestinian comrades. I would say that being Jewish has definitely influenced that aspect of my identity. Because the reality is Zionism has tried to make Judaism inexorably tied to the settler colonial movement. And so long as that is the case, it is imperative that every Jewish person, including me, has their Judaism connected to anti-imperialism.

At what point did you feel it was necessary to speak out publicly about Palestine?

I used to be a Zionist. Regretfully so. The result of a decade of indoctrination, I suppose. Like most young Jews, all of my information was coming from propaganda. So another Jewish anti-Zionist, Jew of color friend, sat me down in a facilitated conversation with someone who is now a dear Palestinian friend of mine. And we just talked and I shut up, and I listened and I thought. And I thought, and I thought, and I recognized the patterns of racism that I experienced as a Jew of color within Zionist places and the same racism that Palestinians experience. And I realized that Zionism is not a tenable mode of living. And so after that, I wrote a public apology of atonement for being a Zionist, and I moved forward with anti-Zionism as a driving force in my work as someone who is also South Asian and Jewish.

Have you been to Palestine?

I have not, and I don’t plan to go to Palestine until Palestine is liberated.

What is Avodah and why did you choose to work with them?

Avodah is a Jewish non-for-profit that specifically works through the Jewish National Corps Service, which essentially takes young Jewish students and recent grads from ages of 21 to 26, puts them in select cities such as New York, Chicago, San Diego and New Orleans, and engages them in service work in local communities in order to give back in what I assume is form of tikkun olam4 or social change. I chose to work with Avodah because I am deeply rooted and deeply engaged with Judaism and with a sense of tikkun olam in my own practices of Judaism. Initially, I felt that Avodah embodied that, and I was recommended to the position by several Jewish professionals, Jew of color professionals, because my specialty is social media engagement, social media marketing and digital literacy. And I am a Jew of color, so I’m engaged with that community directly because it is my community. This role of social media assistant through recruitment and racial justice was seemingly the perfect position for me. I applied and was told I was overqualified. I was told that I was so overqualified that they were going to raise my pay from $22 to the $23 and was told that my references were immaculate. I chose to apply and be a part of that position because ultimately I wanted to make spaces for Jews of color. A lot of my work was going to focus and began to focus on the Jews of Color Bayit5 program which is a branch of the National Jewish Service Corps but specifically aimed to make Jews of color feel safe.

My specialty was supposed to be marketing for the JOC Bayit and making Avodah’s social media recruitment more inclusive and more diverse because it is overwhelmingly white and that was my job as one of the only Jews of color on staff, which was a daunting thing to do but I felt I could take it on because again I am and was overqualified. That’s why I chose to do it to create space for people like me who have been alienated by racism in Jewish spaces since we began. I hoped that I could do that and that was my goal.

So how did it feel when Stop Antisemitism began smearing you?

It felt horrific. This is not the first time they began smearing me. They began smearing me last August as well when I received another opportunity. I was granted transfer to Rice University which is a prestigious research institute in Houston. I transferred there from a rural college and as soon as Stop Antisemitism found out about that opportunity that was put forth for me, they attempted a smear campaign. That didn’t result in anything because I am a 4.0 GPA student, [on the] Dean’s List, President’s List. I’m going to toot my own horn. I’m a great student. They couldn’t do anything about it.

The second round was shocking, I suppose. I’m a 21 year old college student from Texas. Why are grown adults, who pay mortgages and have to feed their kids, trying to smear me with racism and misogyny and transphobia and other vitriol? It felt horrific. Because not only did the Stop Antisemitism campaign itself result in direct harassment from them, but it resulted in numerous articles being written about me, engaging in character assassination, racist character assassination. It resulted in highly sexual, inappropriate emails being written to my parents at their place of work, because Stop Antisemitism linked to my parents’ information at their place of work. It resulted in the violation of my privacy, as my conversion statement from 2011, 2012, when I was a child, was dug up by these harassers and has been used as fuel for, again, this anti-convert racist harassment.

And, yeah, it’s been horrific. I’ve been physically ill for the last 72 hours. Vomiting nonstop, unable to drive, unable to move, busy. It’s caused an inordinate amount of physical trauma as well as emotional trauma for myself and my family.

What did Avodah say to you when they fired you?

I got an out-of-the-blue phone call on Monday at the end of my work day. It was Rachel Glicksman with Avodah, and she said, I need five minutes of your time. It was from an unknown New York number. I said, “I’m so sorry. Did I miss a meeting?” And she said, “No, no, don’t worry. The CEO, Cheryl Cook, would like to speak with you. This will only take five minutes.” Cheryl Cook got on the phone and immediately said, “Anna, we’re going to have to let you go.” I said, “Why are you letting me go?” And she said, “Because you incite violence on Twitter in a way that is antithetical to Avodah’s mission statement.” And of course, I responded to that with a reasonable amount of questioning and confusion because I’m very aware that this is the result of a racist targeted harassment campaign.

I remember when the same group, Stop Antisemitism, attacked Rebecca Pierce of the Jews of Color and Sephardic/Mizrahi Caucus. And I’m wondering how widespread you say is Zionists’ harassment of Jews of color.

I would say that it is incredibly widespread because Zionism is a form of ethno-nationalist, white supremacist genocide. It’s a colonial ideology. And Jews of color, while we do retain power over Palestinians unequivocally, don’t fit into the white supremacist idealized version of society. And so, of course, the best way to get rid of us is to do this. I think it’s incredibly widespread. They don’t want us in the Jewish community. They don’t want us in any community, period.

You mentioned that you live in Texas, and I’m wondering if your anti-Zionist advocacy connects to decolonial work having to do with where you’re residing.

Specifically, I’m living in Houston, so I’m living on the land of the Karankawa people. It is not my land. I’m a settler here, as are any non-Indigenous people. And so, 100 percent, I think all borders have to go, and Land Back is universal. It doesn’t just remain in Palestine. Every colonized people, every Indigenous people, every people that have suffered at the hands of a colonial entity, deserves their land back and reparations. And so I’ve done organizing here with a Karankawa solidarity movement a little bit. Not as much as I should, granted, but yes, all of our struggles are connected.

You wrote on social media that you felt abandoned by white Jewish leaders who claim to support Jews of color. Could you elaborate?

I think there’s this term that’s cropped up recently, “social justice rabbi.” Essentially, it’s a Jewish leader who purports to stand for, quote, unquote “progressive” or quote, unquote “liberal” values, but doesn’t actually do any material work to face or acknowledge the reality that Jews of color have to go through at the hands of white supremacist violence within our own communities. You can say all day that you’re a progressive Jew on the Internet or that you’re a progressive Jewish professional. But the reality is that if you’re not saying anything to support us, if you’re not risking anything to support us, what are you doing? The majority of people who came forward for me initially were other Jews of color, who then experienced similar harassment to me following their speaking up for me, similar racist harassment. And so I do not feel supported by white Jewish members of the community, by white Jewish professionals, leaders, writers, because they will always prioritize their whiteness before their Jewishness. And until that changes, I’m not going to feel supported. And I doubt any other Jews of color in similar positions to mine will feel supported either.

Has this whole experience affected your sense of being Jewish and your connection to Judaism?

Absolutely. I’d like to sit here and say, “No, I feel more Jewish than ever.” But if hundreds of thousands of people are telling you that you’re not a real Jew or calling you racist names or saying horrifically misogynistic and sexual things to you, are using antisemitism as a weapon against youI’m being called a kapo. It’s detrimental to my mental health, my well-being, my spirituality as a Jewish person. I cried and I cried and I cried. And I wondered, what was the point of going forward in any institutional Jewish organization or community network if this was going to be the reality for me and for the people who are like me. And it’s been really difficult. I’ve been grappling with my spirituality. I’ve been grappling with my identity. The reality is I’m Jewish, and that’s never going to change. But my faith and my belief and myself are, of course, going to be under scrutiny right now by my own brain because this vitriol is impossible to navigate.

And at a time when real antisemitism has been very violent, very present, in the past few years, this kind of weaponization of the term really cheapens it and makes Jews less safe, wouldn’t you say?

Not only does it make Jews less safe, but it makes Jews of color less safe because we experience both racism and antisemitism at the same time. Neo-Nazis came to my campus in 2020, and I was terrified because I was the president of the Jewish Students Association at my campus. But when you’re experiencing neo-Nazi violence, and then you turn around and your own community’s calling you an antisemite, who do you have to go to? When you’re experiencing racism and antisemitism at the same time, from warring sides, whose team are you on and who’s on your team? It puts Jews of color in an infinite amount of danger, because we experience two forms of violence, both that intersect and overlap. And it’s a shame that the white Jewish community has allowed this to be the reality for us.

What can folks do to support you right now?

That’s a really good question. I would say continue to amplify any media that I endorse on my Twitter or on my Instagram. I would say email Avodah, and communicate to them in a professional and respectful manner that this is not okay and that this is antithetical to tikkun olam and to their own mission statement. Continue to support Jews of color materially. That means with funds, that means with housing, that means with transportation. Give us resources. Words are cheap, especially when they’re in private. DMing saying that you’re standing in solidarity with me means nothing when you have your whiteness to protect you online. You should be the shield right now, not me. I think that those are steps that white Jews can take to ensure that our protection is made.

1 Jewish tradition says the souls of future Jews, including converts, were present for the mass revelation at Mount Sinai.

2 A ritual bath that people enter when converting to Judaism

3 Rabbinic council that approves conversion

4 Literally: Repair of the world

5 Hebrew for “house”

The Transformations of the Cuban Revolution

From Below or From Above?
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Although the Cuban Revolution of 1959 had enormous popular support, especially in its early years, that support did not express itself in any autonomous initiative and control from below. That was not the case in the 1933 Revolution, when the working class played a much more important role than in 1959. As the Foreign Policy Association pointed out in 1935 in its celebrated study Problems of the New Cuba, a great number of strikes took place in the island in August and September of 1933 when at least 36 sugar mills were occupied by its workers who also formed “soviets” in several of them, like those at the Mabay, Jaronú, Senado and Santa Lucía sugar mills.(183) These were autonomous struggles from below similar to those that took place in the Mexican and Bolivian revolutions among others in Latin America, as well as in the Russian Revolution of 1917, and the Hungarian Revolution of 1956.

 

It is significant that when in the early days of the 1959 Cuban Revolution, some Cuban Communists members of the Partido Socialista Popular (PSP, Popular Socialist Party), which was still keeping a certain distance from the revolutionary government, encouraged land occupations by the peasants, Fidel Castro energetically and publicly condemned those actions. In a televised interview on February 19, 1959, the Maximum Leader clearly expressed his opposition to any “anarchic” land distribution and warned that the people involved in any kind of land distribution before the new agrarian reform law was decreed would lose their right to obtain any benefit granted by that law. At the same time, he denounced as criminal any independent initiative to distribute land that ignored the revolutionary government and the future agrarian reform law.

 

It was during the weeks immediately prior to the law being decreed those other aspects of what would become the modus operandi from above of the revolutionary regime became evident. On one hand, almost all Cubans, without class distinctions, came out in support of the announced, although still unknown, agrarian reform law. That included the great sugar mill owners and the sugar landowners who donated tractors and other agricultural implements with the avowed purpose of supporting the new agrarian order, even though they maintained as a matter of course that it should preserve their huge agricultural properties. On the other hand, nobody knew what would be included in the new law and how radical it would be. When it was finally decreed, on May 17, 1959, it had not even been discussed by the official revolutionary government—much less by any of the revolutionary groups and organizations. In fact, the law was drafted by a small group of leaders of the Communist Party (PSP) and the wing of the 26 of July Movement friendly to the PSP in a series of meetings that took place in Ernesto “Che” Guevara’s home located in Tarará beach. It was undoubtedly a radical law in the sense that it eliminated the latifundia (large landholdings) with one blow. The radicalness of this law was particularly evident when compared with the very modest Law # 3 on agrarian reform that Fidel Castro decreed on October 10, 1958, in the Sierra Maestra. That law was a brief declaration of principles that promised that the future government would confront the agrarian problem that existed in the island, and that its first step would be to grant the peasants their right to permanently stay in their land. Beyond that, every pronouncement in that declaration avoided any kind of specific promise, as well as thorny issues such as whether or not to compensate the owners of the lands expropriated by the government, the same issue that had split the drafters of the 1940 Constitution less than twenty years earlier. That lack of specificity characterized the moderate social policies adopted by the revolutionary leaders in that period – from 1956 to 1958 approximately – in order to avoid disagreements and conflict within the broad coalition opposed to Batista’s dictatorship. It was during that period that Fidel Castro also distanced himself, for the same tactical reasons, from the more radical social and economic pronouncements of his History Will Absolve Me, in order to accommodate the growing Cuban middle-class support, and even the support of some important capitalists, for the movement he led. At the same time, he intensified his political militance against Batista, which resulted in a politics that combined armed militancy with a moderate posture on socioeconomic questions. It is significant that his brief moderate turn in socioeconomic matters was generally accepted by the whole armed opposition. In this context it is worth noting that when the Workers’ Bureau of the supposedly more leftist Second Front led by Raúl Castro in Oriente came out in support of an agrarian reform, it also expressed that support in very general terms.

 

The Agrarian Reform law decreed on May of 1959, enjoyed enormous support from a population that had become increasingly radicalized by the measures that the revolutionary government had recently taken, like the notable urban reform law that had substantially reduced rents, and by the growing antiimperialist sentiment engendered by the hostility towards the Cuban revolution in Washington and in most of the US mass media. The enormous popularity of the Agrarian Reform law does not detract, however, from the fact that it was a reform from above exactly like other reforms had been: announced suddenly as a fait accompli, and without any previous open discussion, be it organized by the revolutionary organizations or by the government, about the law’s content. The government also made sure to maintain its control over the implementation of its law, designating the Rebel Army and the National Institute of Agrarian Reform (Instituto Nacional de Reforma Agraria, INRA) to fulfill that role, thus making sure to prevent the autonomous activity of the peasants eager to obtain their own land, even if they followed to the letter what the new law stipulated. The great popularity of the Agrarian Reform, as well as of the other early measures adopted by the revolutionary government, was expressed in the giant demonstrations of a plebiscitarian character that also characterized the revolutionary process. All of this underscores the fact that, while the Cuban revolution counted with a very broad popular support and participation, this did not in any way involve any democratic control of that revolution from below. It was the government that decided each step and made sure to prevent any independent action organized from below; the people supported the decisions of the government but did not participate in the decision-making process.

 

The Agrarian Reform of 1959 was a very important step in the consolidation of the modus operandi from above of the revolutionary government. It provided Fidel Castro and his group with enormous power and the freedom to exercise it with a minimum of limiting obligations. The enormous political capital the new regime accumulated since the first months of the revolution not only allowed it to consolidate its agrarian policies, but also to radicalize and to reorient it towards the nationalization of agricultural property with the second agrarian reform law, decreed four years later on October 3, 1963. This new law further limited the amount of land that private farmers could hold from 402 to 67 acres, at the same time that it considerably extended the Peoples’ Farms (state farms) that were soon converted into the principal form of agricultural organization in the country. However, while the agrarian reform law of 1959 responded to the long-standing peasant and popular wishes and dreams, the same cannot be said about the 1963 agrarian reform, a reform that signified, more than anything else, the bureaucratic turn of a regime that had already declared itself  “socialist” and was openly trying to implant a Caribbean version of the Soviet model of a collectivized agriculture.

 

This does not mean that the peasants, workers and the people in general were opposed the state monopoly of agriculture and industry. As long as most of them felt that they were benefitting from the actions of the revolutionary government – through social mobility and the urban reform, for example – they continued to identify with the antiimperialist politics of the government and kept on supporting it. Those who opposed the regime ended up paying a high price with penalties such as their exclusion from higher education and being discriminated against in terms of jobs by the main employer, the state. And if these measures were insufficient to silence the discontented, more draconian punishments were used, involving the systematic repression by State Security, prison and the execution wall.

 

Transition of the political system towards control from above

 

It is true, however, that in 1959, Fidel Castro, along with his close collaborators still had to deal with a series of individuals and groups that did not easily adjust to his political orientations. Skillfully taking advantage of the opportunities as they presented themselves, he proceeded to remove them, one by one, from the political scene. That is what happened in the case of president Manuel Urrutia, who was forced to resign in July of 1959, and of Comandante Huber Matos, accused of having betrayed the revolution for having dared to resign from his position, and condemned, in October of 1959, to twenty years in prison; or as in the case of the press and the independent mass media, which disappeared in mid-1960 as the government took over almost all the newspapers and radio and television stations in the island.

 

Even more important was the revolutionary government’s take-over of the union movement. In this case, Fidel Castro personally intervened in the elections for the national union leadership in the X Congress of the CTC (Confederación de Trabajadores de Cuba, the trade union central) that took place in November of 1959, to insure the victory of the procommunist elements in the union movement. The electoral process in the union movement of the island had begun in the spring of 1959 with free elections at the local level, followed by elections at the provincial level. From the very beginning, it was clear that the candidates associated with the 26 of July Movement were the big winners, while the communists only obtained about ten percent of the union posts (although it must be acknowledged that some of the elected 26th of July candidates were sympathetic to the PSP).

 

The results of the elections at the national level for delegates for the November congress were very similar. It was clear that the communists would be defeated and excluded from the national union leadership. That was when Fidel Castro intervened to avoid this outcome, imposing his own slate, which did not yet include the best-known communist unionists but placed the control of the CTC in the hands of the so-called “unitarian elements” of the 26th of July Movement favorable to the communists, headed by union leader Jesús Soto.

 

After the conclusion of the X Congress, the Ministry of Labor, in collaboration with the communist and “unitarian” unionists now at the head of the CTC, purged about 50 percent of all union leaders who, as it turned out, happened to be those that had opposed the communists. This was not done through the holding of new elections, but through purge commissions and carefully prepared and manipulated union assemblies. This was the first great step to establish a union movement totally controlled by the state.

 

The XI Congress of the trade union central (CTC), held in November of 1961, could not have been more different than the one celebrated two years earlier. In the absence of real competition among candidates who represented different autonomous currents in the workers movement, the new leaders, previously approved by those at the top of the government, were elected by acclamation. At the head of them was Lazaro Peña, the old Stalinist union leader, who assumed the position of Secretary General.

 

The ideological origin of power exercised from above 

 

The politics that Fidel Castro was implementing was coherent with the ideas about power and revolution that he had articulated when he was imprisoned in the Isle of Pines (today the Island of Youth), from 1953 to 1955, after his failed attack on the Moncada Barracks on July 26, 1953. As a probable reaction to what he described as the chaos, disorder and lack of discipline that he witnessed as an activist in the failed expedition of Cayo Confites, organized with the purpose of overthrowing dictator Trujillo in the Dominican Republic in 1947, and in the great social and political explosion (the Bogotazo) in Colombia in 1948, he adopted the opposite organizational extreme that led him to his monolithic vision of what a revolutionary organization should be. Thus, for example, in the diary he maintained in his prison cell in the misnamed Model Prison in the Isle of Pines, he wrote, on August 14, 1954:

A movement cannot be organized where everyone believes he has the right to issue public statements without consulting anyone else; nor can one expect anything of a movement that will be integrated by anarchic men who at the first disagreement take the road they consider most convenient, tearing apart and destroying the vehicle. The apparatus of propaganda and organization must be such and so powerful that it will implacably destroy him who will create tendencies, cliques, or schisms or will raise against the movement.  

 

Years later, Carlos Franqui, a journalist working for Radio Rebelde, reflecting about the undemocratic and individualistic leadership of Fidel Castro that he had experienced through his collaboration with the leader in the Sierra Maestra, wrote, towards the end of 1958:

I have observed how many of our meetings are rather a kind of consultation. Or a conversation, almost always Fidel’s prodigious conversation, in which a decision is taken for granted, but almost never is an agreement amply discussed by all present. A situation for which we are all responsible because of [his] action and [our] inaction.

 

There is no doubt that Fidel Castro’s revolutionary authoritarianism from above was neither original nor limited to his person. In fact, it facilitated the development of a group close to the Cuban leader that shared his politically authoritarian revolutionary vision, a vision whose members had acquired, or at least reinforced as a result of their experiences near or inside the Communist movement. Thus, for example, Raúl Castro had been a member of the Juventud Socialista (the youth wing of the PSP) at the beginning of the fifties; and Che Guevara developed a pro-communist orientation highly favorable to Stalin during his stay in Guatemala, although he never jointed the Communist party during his stay in that country. It is also obvious that there was a kind of “elective affinity” between the Stalinist ideology of the PSP (the Cuban party close to Moscow) and the authoritarian ideas and practices of Fidel Castro and his close collaborators.

 

The Socio-Political Context of Fidel Castro’s Power from Above.

Yet, the great popularity of Fidel Castro and his unquestionable political ability would not have been sufficient to successfully impose his political perspectives and organizational controls in the absence of a series of political conjunctures that ended up working in his favor. To begin with, he came to power enjoying the undisputable hegemony over the revolutionary forces: neither the Revolutionary Directorate nor the PSP—the two main alternative revolutionary groups still functioning on the eve of the victory of the revolution — were in no condition to question, and much less oppose, his decisions and pronouncements, because they did not enjoy his overwhelming popularity.

 

For their part, the political parties that had been important on the eve of Batista’s Coup D’Etat on March 10, 1952, like the Ortodoxos and the Auténticos, had collapsed several years before 1959. By way of contrast, let us consider the political revolution that took place in Venezuela exactly a year earlier than in Cuba, in January of 1958, that overthrew the dictatorship of Marcos Pérez Jiménez. Unlike Cuba, Venezuela, on the eve of its political revolution had significant and stable political parties like Acción Democrática (Social Democratic) and Copei (Social Christian), organizations that soon after the victory over Pérez Jiménez reached an agreement at Punto Fijo, in October of 1958, precisely to guarantee the political and economic status quo of the country and avoid a social revolution. Those Venezuelan parties had no equivalent in Cuba of 1959, which meant that Fidel Castro had no political adversaries with sufficient strength to extract from him any concession or force him to negotiate any agreement.

 

In addition, until the eve of the revolution, Cuba lacked any oligarchic formation linking the higher levels of the bourgeoisie, the Catholic Church and the high officialdom of the Armed Forces that could have functioned as a bulwark against the revolutionary forces. As it was mentioned earlier, up until the 1959 Agrarian Reform was decreed, the sugar mill owners and the sugar landlords, conscious of their lack of political power to prevent a radical reform, unsuccessfully tried to seduce the revolutionary government. With respect to Batista’s army, it was led by a group of officers of lower- and middle-class origin that had turned into a privileged and corrupt caste without any ideology that could justify their power. When Colonel Ramón Barquín, along with various career officers, denounced the corruption in the army at the 1956 Court Martial to which they were subjected because they had conspired against Batista, they were mockingly labeled as “the pure ones,” which clearly illustrates the cynical attitude prevailing in the armed forces during Batista’s rule.  An army such as this is weak by nature and will only fight as long as the benefits they receive justify the sacrifices that combat entails. That is why Batista’s armed forces collapsed when they confronted the really motivated Rebel Army.

 

Another factor that scholars sometimes refuse to consider, is the plain and simple “good luck” that Fidel Castro had, which allowed him to come out unscathed from very difficult and dangerous situations. The “good luck” in this context refers to a series of concrete events that happen outside of the control of the political actors and that have a great impact on their political life and on their society. In the case of Fidel Castro, one example of his good luck was the death in combat of José Antonio Echevarría, the leader of the Directorio Revolucionario, and of Frank País, one of the principal leaders of the 26th of July Movement. Their death removed from the revolutionary political scene two figures that could have competed against him for the leadership of the revolutionary movement. Even more impressive was the fact that, of the 82 combatants that had departed from the Mexican port of Tuxpan on the Granma in late 1956, approximately less than twenty survived the landing in the southwest of the Oriente province in Cuba. That represents a rate of survival of less than twenty five percent compared to, for example, the survival rate of the tens of thousands of troops that invaded Normandie in 1944, which varied from 34 to 50 percent depending on the functions of the fighting units.

 

The Two Periods of the Revolutionary Government and the Pressures from Below

 

It is important to note that in the case of Cuba there is a significative difference in the way the government has behaved regarding concessions between the period that started in 1959 and ended with the collapse of the Soviet bloc in 1990, and the period that began immediately afterwards.

 

During the first period, the Cuban government agreed occasionally to some concessions, like the opening of the peasants’ markets in the eighties. But in general, the material aid provided by the Soviet bloc compensated in great part for the serious damages caused by the U.S. economic blockade, allowing the government to hold on firmly to power and avoid getting into any kind of concessionary mode. The government presided over an austerity that generally satisfied the most basic needs of the population, and allowed for a significant degree of social mobility, in part generated by the emigration of wide sectors of the middle and upper classes. However, since the chronic and profound economic crises began in the island as a result of the disappearance of the USSR and the Soviet bloc, which led to a substantial loss in the popular support and political legitimacy of the regime, the government has been forced to make a series of concessions, some of them quite important  in terms of relinquishing some of its controls, like having significantly relaxed the conditions allowing for the possibility of traveling and emigrating abroad (except for the hundreds of  “regulados,” persons who have openly opposed the government who are not permitted to travel abroad at all).

 

It was therefore foreseeable that if on one hand the economic and political crises made the regime more vulnerable to certain types of social and economic pressures, its relative political weakness (accompanied by its great police strength) made the regime decidedly more repressive, as demonstrated by the very long prison sentences given to hundreds of Cubans accused of participating in the mostly peaceful protests of July 11, 2021.

 

It must be stressed that Cuba’s social and political structures are very far from the degree of pluralism that is implicit in many of the notions regarding the supposed power of the “pressures from below,” both in the early as well as in the current stage of the revolution. This does not mean that the regime does not care about what people want or think, or that it will not do everything possible to manipulate the population to avoid not only popular explosions, such as the one of July 11, 2021, but also any other public expression of discontent no matter how peaceful it might be. It is precisely because the government wants to influence and control popular opinion, that before the new Constitution was approved by the National Assembly of Popular Power in 2019, it organized discussions so that people could express their opinions and make suggestions about the constitutional text. However, these discussions were characterized by two key features: It was the authorities that decided by themselves, and without any kind of democratic consultation, which suggestions would be adopted, and which would be rejected, a typical feature of bureaucratic cooptation from above. Even more important is the fact that the Cuban people who attended those discussions lacked any possibility and power to coordinate their proposals with that of other Cubans attending those discussions in other places, much less to use the mass media to agitate and propagandize in favor of their proposals or to object to others. We only need to compare this type of cooptation with the wide-ranging public debate that took place in the newspapers, magazines and radio stations, and the free election of delegates among the candidates of all political parties, notably including the Communist Party, that occurred before the Constitutional Convention of 1940, to appreciate the enormous difference between the two constitutional processes.

 

      The Agrarian Reform of 1959: was it radicalized by pressures from below?

 

Perhaps because the Law of Agrarian Reform of 1959 marked a point of inflection in the radicalization of the revolution, some scholars have argued that it was the “pressure from below” that explains the radical direction taken by the revolutionary government. This is the main argument of a study conducted in 1972 by social scientists Juan and Verena Martínez Alier who, based on the archives of the National Institute of Agrarian Reform (INRA), they concluded that it was the rural working-class demand for land and work that created an enormous pressure on the newly established government that led to its radicalization.

 

It is important to note that the researchers did not report anything showing impatience, discontent or lack of trust by the peasants regarding the actions and politics of the revolutionary government, which generally happens when a restless and demanding peasantry confronts moderate, cautious or vacillating governments be it of a reformist, liberal or conservative cast. And in any case, the main revolutionary leaders had become radicalized long before they took power, although they largely kept that under wraps in the years prior to their overthrowing Batista. Even more important is the fact that Fidel Castro and his close collaborators counted, especially in those days, with an enormous amount of political credit with the Cuban people, particularly with the most dispossessed, so they had little cause to worry about demands or pressure “from below”, at least then, when there was no significant political force, especially after May of 1959, that could outflank Fidel Castro and his close associates on the left by proposing a more anti-capitalist policy than the new government.

 

To be sure, both the revolutionary leaders and the great majority of Cubans were highly conscious of the overwhelmingly popular expectations of being able to achieve an appreciable improvement in their overall standard of living, an improvement that was already occurring to a significant degree in 1959 and the early sixties, before the economic and especially agricultural crises broke out in the country. Those popular expectations could be seen as a kind of pressure on the government, except that it was not exercised as an external force that changed the goals and methods of the revolutionary regime, the key contention of Juan and Verena Martínez Alier in their “ ‘Tierra o trabajo’: Notas sobre el campesinado y la Reforma Agraria, 1959-1960,” in Cuba: Economía y Sociedad, Paris, Ruedo Ibérico, 1972, 109-208).

 

Joining that article is a recent publication authored by Sarah Kozameh, that also proposes that popular pressures changed the direction of the revolutionary leadership (“Agrarian Reform and the Radicalization of Revolutionary Cuba,” Cuban Studies, #51, 2022, 128-46.) Kozameh argues that the advances of the Agrarian Reform after it was decreed in May, 1959, were a result of the pressures that the Cuban peasants exerted on the government provoked by, what she calls, the latter’s “moderate” behavior (although she never explains what would have constituted a “radical” behavior.)

 

Based on the letters sent to the offices of INRA, Kozameh concludes that the peasants pressured the government to grant the benefits promised by the agrarian reform law, and pressured INRA to act against the interests of the landlords, thereby propelling the radicalization of the revolution. There is no doubt that the author studied the INRA archives. Unfortunately she does not seem to have paid careful attention to the newspapers and magazines of that era, which would have informed her about the government’s radicalism before and after May 1959, and especially of the important role that the Rebel Army played in the process of the agrarian reform, something that she either ignored or gave little importance.(Incidentally, it was the Rebel Army that in 1958, while still in the Sierra, called on the peasants to get organized under the Rebel Army leadership, and not the other way around, as Kozameh maintains.)

 

It is clear, as the author affirms, that the landlords and latifundistas tried to obstruct, if not eliminate, the agrarian reform by every available means. But it was INRA, obviously supported by the government and the Rebel Army, that, for example, took the initiative to fire Manuel Artime, a Catholic leader who had tried to “moderate” the agrarian reform from within INRA itself. And as it was pointed out earlier, it was the Rebel Army and INRA functionaries, and not the peasants themselves, who in practice carried out the so-called “intervenciones” of lands that established the fundaments of the revolution in the countryside.

 

Finally, the great majority of complaints sent to INRA cannot be considered pressures of a political kind. Complaints about possible corruption, mistaken and poorly implemented decisions, inefficiency, and what surely constituted numerous administrative errors given the absence of experienced agricultural functionaries, cannot in any way be construed as “political pressures” in the sense that Kozameh claims radicalized the revolutionary leaders. In fact, the first example she cites of a protest concerned a farmer in Matanzas called Juan Triana Fernández, whose oxen, that were indispensable to transport his crops, were confiscated by the INRA functionaries who, in addition, allowed a herd of 200 cows to stomp on Triana’s land causing him to lose his entire rice crop.

 

Triana was clearly the victim of incredible incompetence, negligence and bureaucratic abuse which would have required at the very least the immediate replacement of the responsible functionaries. But his complaint had nothing to do with the supposed pressure from below that would have radicalized the agrarian legislation. None of this means that there was no real conflict between peasants and landlords. But what is relevant is how did the INRA functionaries and officials of the Rebel Army act in those cases. It is very unlikely that they supported the landlords. But if that would have been the case, a letter from the aggrieved peasant to INRA complaining and protesting the incident and demanding that the government address it would have been a true case of “political pressure.”

 

The motivation of these interpretations 

 

Several students of the Cuban Revolution have been following the trend of what could be called “History from Below standing on its head.” There are two explanations for this: The first is of an academic nature. The intellectual influence of the relatively new approaches “from below,” which in general have been very positive in enriching and radicalizing the field of history, may have nevertheless created academic pressures on scholars to try to apply them in an uncritical fashion to conjunctures where they are largely not relevant.

 

The second is of a political nature. Scholars understandably bring to bear their own standards and political-ideological preferences to their academic and intellectual tasks. That is the case of those scholars sympathetic with the Cuban regime who have tried to demonstrate that the Cuban government has throughout its history submitted to popular control from below. But since that cannot be demonstrated for obvious reasons—there has never been any democratic control from below in Cuba—these scholars now recur to the notion of popular pressure from below as having shaped the political decisions of the government, trying to create in this manner a more positive and apparently more democratic view albeit an unreal one, of the Cuban government.

 

 

This article originally appeared in Spanish in the Cuban left-wing critical blog La Joven Cuba on June 20, 2022.

 

 

Creating a Future of Radical Democracy

Interview with Cooperation Tulsa
Screenshot of Cooperation Tulsa's projects from cooperationtulsa.org: Restoration Garden, Flat Rock, Community Center
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Screenshot of Cooperation Tulsa's projects from cooperationtulsa.org: Restoration Garden, Flat Rock, Community Center

Since 2020, Cooperation Tulsa has been planting seeds of radical democracy in Oklahoma based on Indigenous values and social ecology. Aside from running a community center and gardening projects, they helped start the Symbiosis federation of horizontally-structured organizations aiming to “confront the present system while creating the future that will replace it.” I spoke with Cooperation Tulsa’s member Daniel Baryon and began by asking about his group’s relationship with Mississippi’s Cooperation Jackson, a Black-led network of worker-run cooperatives established in 2014. -DF

 

When did Cooperation Tulsa form, and were y’all in touch with Cooperation Jackson?

Cooperation Tulsa formed during the George Floyd uprisings. At first we were not in contact with Cooperation Jackson, however that changed after an event called Symbiosis Summer, where several of our members traveled to Jackson to help CJ with a few of their projects that required physical labor. There are now open channels between us.

 

Describe the local responses to your community center and farming and gardening projects.

They have been overwhelmingly positive, if somewhat limited in breadth. That is to say, anywhere there is coverage of our projects, people are very excited about it both in the revolutionary milieu and among average people. We have seen how successful a revolutionary prefigurative program is through action. Many of us are long-time organizers and have witnessed the failure of other methods and we can see the enthusiasm Cooperation Tulsa generates. One of the most significant reasons it generates enthusiasm is because it is a demonstration of horizontal values. Whereas other methods place revolutionary organizers outside of the people as superior vanguardists, this method helps THEM develop their power and then trusts them to use it. We wish to act as counsel and catalyst, not as controller of the autonomy of the people.

 

What foods are Cooperation Tulsa growing, and how do the methods contribute to food sovereignty and ecological sustainability?

So we just established our gardens really in the last year or so. We plan to plant summer squash, summer crookneck, Kentucky wonder bean, muncher cucumber, tendergreen cucumber, short & sweet carrot, half long carrot, baxters bush cherry tomato, French breakfast radish, cherry bell radish, and a few tomatillos. We have already planted baby kale, spinach, lettuce, radish, and lamb’s quarters. In the future, we would like to emphasize native species and permaculture, as well as hopefully establishing a food forest. We view our purpose as cultivators as restoring the harmony of the ecosystem and creating food sustainability for the people.

 

What is the connection between the organization’s horizontal structure and vision of municipal democracy?

The phrase ‘municipal democracy’ can mean a great number of things. For us, insofar as we are said to practice it, it is the attempt to democratize the bodies we create and to widen the scope of democratization at the local level to the best of our abilities. Our organization serves as a catalyst to develop democratic bodies which can govern and direct themselves, while also cooperating with the social ecological vision of Cooperation Tulsa.

 

Why is it significant that Cooperation Tulsa has Indigenous guidance and collaborates with Cherokee Nation?

It is significant for several reasons. First of all, Oklahoma is a particularly important site of struggle for Indigenous land sovereignty. Not only was it the destination of many genocidal relocations, it is now one of the most significant examples of tribal autonomy in the US, especially after the McGirt v. Oklahoma ruling. It is also important in that it is a very diverse organization, consisting of both Native American and white organizers. It is a site for coordination on common struggles on that front. We also believe that the social ecological viewpoint of Bookchin has a great deal in common with Indigenous values and that this has been one of the contributors to its success as a coordinating body as well as the success of Bookchin abroad in Indigenous struggles for autonomy. As for our collaboration with the Cherokee Nation, this is tentative. We wish to discover a lane of action wherein the entities we develop and the Cherokee Nation can collaborate without entangling either with the other too thoroughly. That is to say, we want to develop tribal autonomy and also the autonomy of the masses.

 

How did the pandemic affect the group’s organizing?

It definitely made things harder. As the pandemic escalated, it forced us to use digital methods more often, which is often much harder for mediating disputes and discussing complicated topics. It has also meant that we have had to develop mechanisms to reach out to the people digitally instead of utilizing social insertion, as most of our members prefer. This has had ups and downs. The up is that it makes our organization more accessible! The downside is that it hurts community and group engagement. We are still trying to balance all these concerns as we proceed.

 

Why did y’all decide to join the Symbiosis confederation, and how has that collaboration been?

Well first, it must be said, that one of our founding members, Roberto Mendoza, helped draft the points of unity for Symbiosis at their Chicago plenary. His focus on Indigenous values as well as my own focus on the ideas of Murray Bookchin, made this a natural fit. We created the group with a conscious intention to become part of the Symbiosis network and have found the relationship with the federation very productive. Also, we were very inspired by the work of Cooperation Jackson and the projects in Rojava and the philosophy of Neo-Zapatismo, all of which we see as reproductive of the values of Symbiosis.

 

How can people support Cooperation Tulsa, and is there anything else you want to share?

So many ways! If you are here in town and you are a revolutionary anarchist, libertarian socialist, or communalist of some kind, we invite you to apply to become a member. We would be happy to invite you to our Discord server if this is an easy way for you to become more acquainted with the group. Or you may want to attend one of the regular events we hold! Follow our social media to keep yourself up to date.

Lastly, we are in the middle of a concerted fundraising effort in order to cover overhead for our community space. If we do not meet a goal of around $1800/month of income in the next few months, we may lose the space, which would be a severe blow to our program. The space is used for community meetings, it is a makerspace, it hosts a free store which clothes and feeds people, it hosts movie nights, free dinners every Friday, even meetings and teach-ins among our own group and for other local organizations! This is not even half of how it is used; it is implemental in all our other projects. I ask that, if you can spare any amount that you go become a recurring contributor at our Open Collective. Your contribution, no matter how small, is meaningful and contributes to a real, substantive dual power program in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

 

Why I am not a socialist

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Editor’s note: We post this article in the interests of contributing to debate on the left. Responses are welcome.

Socialists get the main issue right … capitalism has to be scrapped. But they get almost everything else wrong, including the situation we are in, the revolutionary goal and especially the strategy for achieving it. Consequently a great deal of well-intentioned energy is being wasted. Bold claims from a member of the extreme left, so a somewhat lengthy justification is required.

Historically, socialism has been about the working class taking power from the capitalist class and thus freeing the productive system from the contradictions built into capitalism and enabling it to be run in the interests of all. This has generally been seen as involving taking the state and enabling it to make socially desirable decisions, especially those enabling “living standards” to be raised. It takes for granted centralised control of the economy, usually via a democratically elected government. Until the last few decades this made sense but now our understanding of the global ecological situation has radically changed and this reveals that initial vision to be no longer appropriate. It is important therefore to outline why the situation is now so different as to invalidate the traditional socialist vision, and to explain what its replacement must be.

The concern underlying this argument is not to persuade people on the radical left to abandon their fundamental principles but to recognise that these now require rethinking of sub-goals and means.

The sustainability predicament.

It was not until the middle of the last century that it began to become evident that the biophysical sustainability of the planet was being threatened by the quest for limitless growth and affluence. It is now clear that the basic cause of the multi-faceted global predicament is that there is far too much producing and consuming going on, meaning that we have gone through the limits to growth. For instance the ecosystems of the planet are being destroyed because far too much is being taken out of nature an far too much waste is being dumped back into it, resources are dwindling, causing conflicts and resource wars.

Unfortunately the magnitude of the overshoot is not generally recognised. The “footprint” measure put forward by the World Wildlife Foundation (2018) indicates that to provide the average Australian with food, settlement area, water and energy takes about 7 ha of productive land. Therefore if the 9.8 billion people expected to be on earth by 2050 were by then to have risen to Australia’s present “living standard” about 70 billion ha would be needed. But there are only about 12 billion ha of productive land on the planet, so if only a quarter of it is left for nature we Australians right now are using an average of almost 10 times the amount it would be possible for all to use.

Others indicate worse multiples. (Wiedman et al., 2014, Hickel, 2018.) And the difficulty in securing resources is continually increasing. Ore grades are falling, water, soil and food sources are becoming more problematic.

However this has only been an indication of the present grossly unsustainable situation. We must add the effect of economic growth. If 9.8 billion people were to rise to the GDP per capita Australians would have in 2050 given 3% p.a. economic growth, then total world economic outptut would be approaching 18 times the present amount. But the present amount is grossly unsustainable: the WWF estimates that we’d need 1.7 planet Earths to meet the present global resource demand sustainably.

Few people, including those of the red or green variety, have any idea of the magnitude of the problem. If we are to achieve a sustainable and just world we in rich countries will have to go down to consuming resources at something like one-tenth of our present per capita rates. (For the detailed numerical argument see Trainer 2021.)

The commonly held “tech-fix” position denies that there are grounds for concern here, on the assumption that technical advance will enable economic growth to continue indefinitely without growth in resource use or ecological impact. However this faith that economic growth can be “decoupled” from resource demand and ecological impact has now been contradicted by a large amount of evidence.

Anyone still unaware of this should consult the massive studies by Hickel and Kallis, Parrique et al., and Haberl et al. The second lists over 300 studies and the third refers to over 850. Despite constant effort to improve productivity and efficiency, in general growth of GDP is accompanied by growth in resource use. (Wiedmann et al., 2014.) And in fact the trends are getting worse. The demolition of the decoupling faith has been central in the rise of the Degrowth movement.

This understanding of our situation rules out the revolutionary goal most socialists have traditionally held, which has been to take control of the industrial system from the capitalist class and to apply it to enabling all to rise to high “living standards”. This “productivist” strand has traditionally been prominent in socialist thinking. Indeed some recent socialists have argued strenuously for the “eco-modernist” quest for increasing output to achieve “fully automated luxury communism”. (Phillips 2012, Scharzar 2012 and Bastani 2019.)

Various recent “Eco-socialists” recognise that resource scarcity is problematic and that a satisfactory post-capitalist society would need to moderate demand but none of these come to terms with the magnitude of the reductions required. When this is focal it can be seen that the revolutionary goal cannot be “normal” rich word “living standards”. The recently emerging “Eco-socialists” recognise this but most if not all of the prominent advocates including Kovel, (2007), Albert on “Parecon”, (2003), Lowy (2015), Bellamy-Foster (2008), Sarkar (1999), and Smith (2016), do not deal with the crucial, game-changing fact that the good society cannot be an affluent society. Nor does the account of “Inclusive Democracy”, (1997) put forward by Fotopoulos. Few if any refer to any need for very large scale reductions in GDP and per capita “living standards” or to the cultural problem involved in radically simple lifestyles and systems. It is not realized that a thorough going socialism which maintained commitment to economic growth and high “living standards” would still accelerate us towards ecological collapse.

What then must the goal be?

It follows from the foregoing account that the goal must be a society in which all the world’s people could live well on a very small fraction of the present rich world average per capita resource consumption and ecological impact. If present rates are far too high and technical advance is not going to cut them down sufficiently then there can be no other option.

This cannot be done in anything like the present economic system, which has to not only maintain present levels of production and consumption but to constantly increase them. Nor can it be done in a reformed version of the present system as most within the Green New Deal camp assume. It can only be done by transition to a completely different kind of economic system.

The purpose of The Simpler Way project has been to show that given the nature of the limits to growth situation a sustainable and just society has no option but to be characterised by the following elements:

  • Mostly small, self-sufficient localised communities.
  • Community self-government via participatory democracy.
  • Zero-growth economies, driven by needs and welfare not profit or market forces., and managed and maintained by their citizens.
  • Predominance of values to do with cooperation not competition, collectivism not individualism and above all materially simple lifestyles and systems.

There could still be (small) cities, modern medicine, universities, professionals, sophisticated technologies and (socially useful) high-tech R and D. But there would be little in the way of trade, travel, tourism, a finance industrialisation, globalisation , factories, urbanism, centralisation or state-level bureaucracy.

The probability of achieving such a transition must at present be rated as poor, but that is not relevant here. The point is that if the foregoing arguments regarding limits and technical fixes are sound then there is no alternative; a sustainable society capable of providing well for all has to be some kind of Simpler Way.

This goal contradicts the common socialist vision of post-capitalist society, especially with respect to centralisation. As will be made clearer below, the new communities cannot be established by or run from the centre. The (small, remnant) “state” can only be a facilitating, monitoring, coordinating etc. agency under the control of federated towns and regions. This is because the primary prerequisite for a satisfactory post-affluence society is cultural. It is to do with ideas, values and dispositions, and these can only emerge from grass-roots conditions and experience and cannot be given taught or imposed or enforced by the state no matter how powerful it is.

This highlights what I see as Marx’s most serious mistake, the failure to grasp the significance of culture. He analysed primarily in terms of economics, politics and power and gave little attention to the significance of culture for the nature of the good society or the means to achieving it. All that was required of the working class for revolutionary purposes was that they become “a class for itself”, meaning little more than being for the overthrow of the system and, in Lenin’s terms, ready to follow the vanguard party. As Avineri (1968) points out, in the immediate post take-over period of the revolution Marx expected there to be only a “crude communism” in which there would still be the old unsatisfactory attitudes and ideas regarding property, work, income, competition and acquisitiveness. Workers would still be in the habit of working for a boss, for wages, would still accept division of labour, put up with alienation, and, most importantly here, would still be focused on the acquisition of property and material wealth. He thought that only in in the later post-revolutionary stage of transition to communism would these dispositions be overcome, via a transformation of mentality or culture.

That might have been a satisfactory position in times when the goal could be gearing the newly captured industrial system to the welfare of the workers. But as has been explained that cannot now be the defining goal of the revolution. The immediate goal must be to achieve a cultural revolution which establishes the understandings, values and dispositions without which transition from capitalism towards a simpler way is impossible.

Marx criticised Hegel for not thinking that the economic structure was the fundamental determinant of a society, and therefore he said Hegel should be stood on his head. The foregoing argument means that it is Marx who should now be stood on his head.

A related but lesser issue is Marx’s insistence that the means of production must not be privately owned. In my firm view most production should be carried out by private firms … in the hands of small family or cooperative groups, functioning within their communities according to strict social guidelines and oversight, and motivated by the new ideas, values and dispositions. As a “homesteader” I know at first hand the profound life satisfaction that comes with getting one’s “oikos” into good shape, the senses of empowerment, autonomy, competence and achievement, the freedom to do it your way, and the enjoyment of the beautiful landscape, devices, systems and gardens it has taken years to establish. The good citizen would obviously be deeply committed to the cooperative pursuit of the public good and the welfare of others, but being able to work/play in one’s own patch is extremely important. And when the purposes of production are a) to pay for the relatively few goods one needs to purchase, and b) to enjoy helping to meet the needs of one’s fellow citizens, then in a community that will not support socially undesirable ventures it is not likely that tycoons will emerge.

However all large enterprises should be publicly owned; in an economy that has undergone marked degrowth and has no interest payments (interest is not possible in a steady-state economy), there will be no place for private investors and shareholders. (See TSW: The New Economy.)

Above all the socialist perspective assumes that the revolutionary initiative lies with the centre, with the new rulers of the state. Again that might have been the appropriate orientation in all previous revolutions, but now it is not. Conditions have disqualified it. The limits to growth have determined firstly that the state cannot run millions of sustainable settlements and secondly that it cannot establish them in the first place. These communities can only form and work if they emerge from lived experience at the grassroots level. People must learn from the conditions they live in that the new attitudes and practices are essential. These conditions and experiences will produce motivation by radically new ideas, values and dispositions focused on localism, community autonomy, cooperation, solidarity, citizen self-government and non-material sources of life satisfaction. Again governments cannot create or impose these cultural elements.

Thus the limits to growth predicament makes this revolution unlike any before because it determines that cultural change is the fundamental prerequisite. The shift in consciousness will have to gather momentum long before capitalism can be swept aside. This aligns with the anarchism of Kropotkin and Tolstoy who prioritized the development of the appropriate vision, not the development of a vanguard party or the taking of state power. (Marshall, 1992, pp. 372.) The latter are important problems and tasks but they cannot be achieved until Stage 2 of the revolution, (… and they will then probably be relatively minor issues, if Stage 1 goes well; see below.)

“But …” the socialist is likely to protest, “… being in control of the state would enable the new ways to be introduced and facilitated. Control of the state will make it possible to work on that shift in mass consciousness.” But consider the faulty logic here. There are only two ways that the control of the state for Simpler Way purposes could come about. The first is via some kind of coup whereby power is seized by a vanguard party which has the intention of implementing The Simpler Way, and then converting uncomprehending masses to it. That is not plausible. The second path would be via the election to government of a party with a Simpler Way platform. But that could not happen unless the (cultural or ideological) revolution for a Simpler Way had previously been won. A Simpler Way party could not be elected to control of the state until after it had persuaded the majority of people to its ideas and proposals. Thus, that revolution would be essentially constituted by the development of widespread acceptance of the Simpler Way vision. Taking state power would then become conceivable, as a consequence of the revolution.

So our focal task here and now is to work on the cultural problem, not to try to take state power. In my view the left in general has failed to appreciate any of this (although Gramsci’s discussion of hegemony could be said to have moved in the right direction.)

Revolutionary strategy: How might the transition be made?

The preceding section argued that traditional state-centred socialist strategy is quite mistaken, especially at this early stage of the revolution. Certainly radical revision of the (remnant) state will eventually be necessary but effort should not go into attempting to do that at this point in time. Apart from the above cultural argument, there is the strong case that capitalism cannot be defeated; it is far too deeply entrenched. It is not just that the capitalist class owns the media, most wealth, most of the economy, and the major political parties (largely via campaign contributions), it has also firmly established capitalist ideology as the indubitable taken-for-granted world view among people in general, including the deplorables and the excluded. How then can we get rid of it?

We can’t…but it is in the process of getting rid of itself. As Marx saw its contradictions will eventually destroy it. Numerous analysts argue that the process is well underway. Central in Simpler Way transition theory is the conviction that we are heading for a time of great troubles, a global beakdown that could be terminal for humankind, and that there is no possibility of avoiding this now. The reasons (detailed in Trainer, 2020) include:

  • The enormity and urgency of the changes required (e.g., less than a decade to deal effectively with climate. (Levin, 2018, Steffen, 2020.)
  • The worsening petroleum supply difficulties in the Middle East (Ahmed, 2017) and likely in the fracking arena (Hughes 2016, Cunningham 2019, Whipple 2019, Cobb, 2019), and declining energy return on energy invested values.
  • The many other biophysical difficulties reducing the capacity of economies to deal with the accelerating problems tightening the limits noose, including water scarcity, fisheries decline, deteriorating mineral grades, accelerating costs of ecological disruption including climate change, toxicity of ecosystems, agricultural soil damage and loss, ocean acidification, and sea rise. These will cut into the diminishing resources available to apply to solving system difficulties.
  • The huge and rising global debt figures.
  • The problems interact, compound and positively feedback toward run-away consequences.
  • Existing political institutions are not capable of making changes of the magnitude required. Fierce resistance would flare, especially on the part of the rich since the “degrowth” solution involves eliminating vast quantities of productive capacity and therefore of factories and businesses, investment opportunities, globalisation, trade and finance activity.
  • Ruling elites incapable of questioning growth and market forces have no idea that capitalism is cause of the chaos or what to do to resolve it, other than to shore up capitalism knowing that the goal must be to “get the economy going again”. Thus they will further deprive the masses in order to give capital what it wants, and they will increase repression to contain the dissent thereby generated.

Many analysts have detailed how the combined effects are likely to lead to catastrophic breakdown in the global economy, including Mason 2003, Korowicz, 2012, Morgan, 2013, Kunstler, 2005, Greer, 2005, Bardi, 2011, Randers 2012, Collins 2021, and Duncan 2013.

The best outcome would be a Goldilocks depression that is not so savage as to eliminate any hope of reconstruction but severe enough to force people towards the above alternative. That is not the most likely outcome but it is the one to be worked for.

The implications for strategy contradict socialist assumptions on a number of issues in addition to the concern with centralisation and taking the state there is the belief that the worker is the agent of change. The above perspective is that the unique conditions of this revolution determines that everyone especially neighbours, are the ones who can and must do the job. This also clashes with the assumption is that a vanguard party must lead.

Perhaps the most heretical implication is, “Do not confront capitalism”. This contradicts the socialist’s fundamental assumption that we must get rid of the old before the new can be built, on the rubble left by the probably violent struggle. However the historically unique situation we have now entered indicates the possibility of a non-confrontational strategy, one that involves turning away and “ignoring capitalism to death”, and as the system self-destructs beginning to build aspects of its replacement. (This does not deny the need to confront over specific threats, such as saving threatened ecosystems.)

Versions of this turning away strategy are increasingly being endorsed and practiced, for instance among the large scale Andean peasant movements, Zapatistas, Campesinos, Catalans and the Rojavan Kurds. (See also, Appfel-Marglin, 1998, p. 39; Relocalise, 2009; Mies and Shiva, 1993; Benholdt- Thompson and Mies; 1999, Korten, 1999, p. 262; Rude, 1998, p. 53, and Quinn, 1999, pp. 95, 137.)

What then is to be done?

The answer is, “prefigure”. This is the term anarchists use to refer to the effort to build here and now within the existing society aspects of the desired alternative society. Many have adopted this outlook of not waiting until the old system has been swept away and not prioritising fighting head-on against it (Rai, 1995, p. 99; Pepper, 1996, pp. 36, 305; Bookchin, 1980, p. 263). (Obviously there are also other things to do as well, including teaching and writing.)

Socialists have traditionally been very hostile to and scathing of this strategy. They have seen it as naïve and mistaken, incapable of seriously threatening capitalism and guaranteed to be quickly crushed if it ever did. But as has been argued above, since the advent of the limits to growth conditions have changed and consequently goals and appropriate strategies have changed, now making prefiguring the most subversive action that can be undertaken.

The point of prefiguring can easily be misunderstood. It is not primarily to increase the number of post-revolutionary ways that exist, and the assumption is not that just setting up post-revolutionary arrangements one by one will lead to these eventually having replaced consumer-capitalist ways. The main point is educational/ideological. By becoming involved in the many emerging local initiatives activists are likely to be in the most effective position to acquaint participants and onlookers with the Simpler Way perspective, and with the need to eventually go on from the present localist preoccupations to the more distant Stage 2 problem of dealing with growth, the state, the market and the capitalist system. (See further below.) The point is in other words, cultural and educational. It has been stressed above that the problem is cultural the need to help large numbers to recognise the desirability of the new ways. Establishing small examples of the radical new arrangements is likely to be the best way to help people to see the desirability of those ways, and to see the need to abandon conventional ideas, systems and values. It is not assumed that this will automatically happen; a great deal of effort needs to go into using the prefigured examples as devices to illustrate and drive home the possibility and sense of adopting them.

This process is in fact well underway. Many groups, agencies, communities and indeed local councils are to some extent involved in establishing post-capitalist ways and illustrating and explaining their virtues. Most notable have been the Eco-village and Transition Towns movements but much more numerous have been the participants in Third World initiatives such as the Campesina, Zapatista, Ubuntu and Swaraj movements. The Senegalese government intends to establish 1400 Eco-villages. (St Ong, 2015.) Leahy’s (2009, 2018) account of the African Chikukwa initiative compares the futility of goading peasants to compete on the international food export markets with the development of highly self-sufficient permaculture villages. The Rojavan Kurds have established remarkable levels of local self government despite intense military harassment. (Trainer, 2018.) The publication ROAR and the Symbiosis organisation are documenting these kinds of initiatives and contributing to the increasing realisation of the possibility and importance of ordinary people taking collective control of their local communities.

Stage 2 of the revolution.

The forgoing discussion has only been about the first stage of this revolution, where the focus is primarily on achieving the cultural goal. Only if this is more or less successful then structural change at the macroscopic level would become possible. Following is an indication of the direction the later events in the transition might take.

As local economies become more widespread and elaborate and as the global economy deteriorates it will become increasingly obvious that scarce national resources must be deliberately and rationally devoted to the production of basic necessities, as distinct from being left for market forces to allocate to the most profitable purposes. There will always be items that towns cannot produce for themselves. In general most of these can come from surrounding regions, including grain and dairy produce, appliances, various materials, and tools and light machinery such as irrigation equipment (…although the Remaking Settlements, Trainer, 2019, study finds that surprisingly little would need to be imported from further afield.) However some will have to come from more distant sources such as steel and cement works. It will therefore be necessary for all towns and regions to be able to import these few but crucial items from the national economy, and to be able to produce some of these to export into it.

These conditions will generate the pressure that in time will force states to carry out revolutionary change in national economies. People will become acutely aware that scarce national resources must not be wasted but must be devoted to providing settlements and regions with the crucial materials and manufactures they cannot produce for themselves. This will require planning to distribute to all towns the opportunity to produce and export some few items, so that they can pay for their importation of those few they need. There will also be tasks and functions that must be planned and administered from the centre, such as allocating water use throughout a river basin, and facilitating the movement of workers from moribund industries to new ones.

Thus the survival imperatives emanating from the grass roots will force central governments to greatly increase intervention, planning, regulation and restructuring. It might at first sight seem that this means the emergence of or need for greatly increased state power. On the contrary it is likely to be a process whereby power is taken away from the centre, and whereby citizens exercise increasing control over central governments, via their town assemblies. The tone will shift from making requests on the state to making demands, and then to taking increasing power over the planning and decision making processes.

It will be increasingly recognized that the local is the only level where the right decisions for self-sufficient communities can be made. Thus the remnant state-level agencies will in time become controlled by and servants of the towns and regions, run via typical anarchist processes involving thoroughly participatory town self-government feeding into federated systems for dealing with wider issues. Eventually all significant decisions including those concerning national policies, will be made by town assemblies voting on options brought down to the town level from conferences of delegates from towns and regions (drawing on professional expertise where appropriate.)

Needless to say, the chances of the transition proceeding as has been outlined here are not at all promising, but the argument has been that this is the path that must be worked for. One of its merits is that it envisages a transition that could be entirely peaceful and non-authoritarian.

A major issue that has not been yet addressed in this account is the likely response to the coming breakdown by the capitalist class and its associates. The breakdown will write off vast amounts of debt, investment, corporations and assets, thus eliminating much of the capitalist class. As in Anarchist Spain in the 1930s many bankrupt factory owners will be happy to join community collectives, transferring their assets to them. Many agribusiness farmers unable to access diesel or to export produce will be eager to sell or lease land cheaply to enable the establishment of new settlements. What remains of capitalism will certainly attempt to shift to its fascist form, but resource scarcity along with drastically impoverished “effective demand” will thwart this. Many regions, especially in the Third World will be cut adrift as plantations, sweat shops and mines cease to be profitable, and thus will be liberated to follow the Zapatistas. Attempts to impose savage “austerity” on rich world masses are likely. The outcome will depend on the extent to which people have come to clearly understand that their fate depends on taking collective control of their local economies. If the new vision is not spread widely in the short time there is left to do this, then the longer term trajectory will be towards war lords semi-feudalism and large scale population die-off.

It should be evident that both the nature of the alternative society that has been sketched here, and the transition path to it, embody classical anarchist principles. In the coming era of limits, scarcity and frugality only communities embracing these can deliver a sustainable and just society. In addition the path to the establishment of those communities cannot be other than via prefiguring whereby ordinary citizens in existing settlements building thoroughly participatory arrangements. Neither the new society nor the strategy for achieving it can involve significant degrees of centralization.

Further, the new ways must involve “subsidiarity” whereby decisions and arrangements are worked out at the lowest levels possible, not handed down from higher officials and bureaucracies. In addition there is extensive spontaneity whereby ordinary citizens take informal and immediate action where they see the need for it. Above all, hierarchy, officials, status levels, titles, power differences and domination in any form are to be avoided if there is to be a climate of egalitarianism, empowerment, collectivism and camaraderie. These principles and practices are not matters of preference, they are about relationships and attitudes that must prevail if the community is to work well.

These have been reasons why I am an anarchist not a socialist, and the reasons why the distinction is not trivial.

——-

(Parts of this essay have been adapted from Trainer 2020.)

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UFT Contract Negotiations Could Be Contentious

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The New York City United Federation of Teachers (UFT) is currently beginning negotiations over its contracts for its various titles, including teachers, counselors, social workers, paraprofessionals, and more. These contract negotiations come amid one of the most difficult years (and series of years) for educators in NYC’s public schools. Educators, like all Americans, face an economy rife with inflation. They have been forced to work without remote options despite many legitimate concerns about health and safety. They work with students who have struggled to academically and emotionally transition back from online to physical classrooms. Newer educators in the UFT have seen the erosion of protections and benefits for years, while retired members were recently upset with the possibility of increasing costs and difficult choices to make in the newly proposed, semi-private Medicare Advantage healthcare plan. The majority of retirees demanded out of the plan, a judge paused it, and the UFT leadership backtracked its support. Across the union, many rank-and-filers see the UFT as more or less another bureaucratic apparatus above them instead of as a mobilizing force that they can organize with to fight for what they need. The UFT itself has embraced this role as a sort of weak co-manager of the schools and has not engaged members in workplace agitation much during recent decades. Nonetheless, there have been signs that teachers and possibly other titles may not easily approve contracts this fall.

First, this spring’s UFT leadership election had the highest vote for an opposition slate since the 1960s: 42% among teachers and 34% overall. Turnout was still low (26%, which is about historically average for UFT elections) but will be higher for contracts because members vote on the contracts at their school site, instead of through the convoluted mail-in ballot system the UFT uses for its leadership elections. Moreover, the opposition slate of United For Change did not officially form until November 2021, did not determine and announce its list of executive board candidates until less than three months before the April election, and dealt with a slew of inappropriate and illegal conduct from the ruling Unity Caucus. If the 42% share of teachers who opposed the UFT leadership is a similar or greater share in the contract voting, then the UFT may need to deliver a contract that has substantive gains for members, or at the very least does not have major givebacks, a signature of UFT contracts and bargaining for the past quarter century.

Further, starting with sick outs during March 2020 to close schools, UFT rank-and-file organizing saw a surge of activity during the pandemic that forced the UFT to show a stronger position against the city. This could manifest against Mayor Adams’ austerity policies as well.

The most recent UFT contract negotiations with the city were for temporary memorandum of agreements during COVID in 2020. The UFT approached the school reopening negotiations with its characteristic backroom bargaining, without mobilizing or informing members for months about any progress, or lack thereof, being made. But as the summer wore on, the UFT saw grassroots organizing and demands around school health and safety, and other unions in the city and the state also spoke out against school reopening, including the bosses’ union, The Council of School Administrators, which often was more outspoken on health and safety during the pandemic than the UFT.

Mayor de Blasio threatened layoffs in the spring of 2020 until the UFT agreed to delaying recovery of retro pay that members were owed from almost a decade before and vacation days that were taken away during April 2020. But by the end of the summer, de Blasio was in last minute negotiations to allow schools to reopen with union approval and it was clear he would need every educator he could get. The UFT agreed to memoranda with the city that modified class sizes and teaching formats, created new bureaucracies, and didn’t guarantee universal COVID testing. These agreements were also made without member review or approval.

In recent months, Mayor Adams has implied there may be staff shifts – known as excessing – based on the enrollment different schools have. In such cases, staff may not be fired from the Department of Education but they may have to find a new school site, very possibly one that is an inconvenient match or location for the educator, based on their respective skills or commute.

The new mayor’s position on school staffing was further complicated this month when a class size bill overwhelmingly passed in the state legislature that would lower class sizes from 32 to 20 for elementary school, 33 to 23 for middle schools, and 34 to 25 for high schools. The union President Michael Mulgrew immediately applauded this as a win and began a victory lap proclaiming the success of his strategy of backroom negotiating and lobbying. Queens state senator John Liu, who wrote the bill, said funding would be attached and appropriated in the budget to meet new class size mandates. There were, however, mentions of possible exemptions from the class size mandates, such as for economic hardship in a particular district, which immediately brings to mind New York City.

The school chancellor, David Banks, criticized the bill as an “unfunded mandate.” He and Adams spoke about how the bill could have adverse effects on Black and Brown students and shift money away from high-needs areas like social work and special education. Banks said school nurses would possibly have to be laid off in order for the city to hire more teachers. It is unclear how he can predict this when his own budget projections do not match state projections, but it marks the first reappearance of lay off threats.

Mulgrew’s response was as follows: “Roughly 5,000 instructors resign or retire every year, fed up with city teaching conditions — including oversized classes. The possibility of dramatically lowering class sizes could help retain many of these veterans.”

With proper implementation, the class size bill, which passed both chambers of the state legislature with veto-proof majorities and awaits the governor’s approval, could lessen the UFT leadership’s need for expansive, or possibly any, gains in the teacher contract this fall. But class size reductions, if the bill passes, are far from guaranteed. In 2007, the State Supreme Court ruled that students were having their right to an appropriate education violated by excessively large classes and ordered class size caps that are the same as the ones proposed in Senator Liu’s class size bill. The city and state governments both ignored this order for 15 years, claiming funding was not available. The same goes for a state law that mandates that schools have libraries and librarians. Over 700 of the almost 1600 NYC schools still do have functioning libraries or librarians.  Lead is found in the pipes of many NYC school buildings, also violating state and federal law, but the funding for water filters and upgraded construction isn’t always available either. Hopefully this current class size bill won’t face the same disregard if it becomes law, but there are no guarantees, and the city and mayor are obviously already on the offensive against it. Like much else in the UFT’s closed-door negotiations, rank-and-file members will just have to wait and see. The UFT leadership opposed including class size demands in contract negotiations, but in November 2021 opposition members in the UFT were able to get a UFT Delegate Assembly resolution passed that established it as a contract priority for 2022 bargaining. This would force the city to comply with class size caps and was long opposed by both the UFT leadership and city. It is unclear how the UFT will follow through on this now that the class size bill seems close to becoming law.

Based on questions asked in the UFT’s member survey on contract priorities, the union anticipates the mayor requesting a longer work day during negotiations. This may come true, but it also could very well be a tactic by the UFT leadership to claim it avoided the longer work day but had to compromise on some of its own goals during negotiations.

Along with class size and staff-student ratios, UFT members care most about wages and benefits and the UFT leadership must at least hold the line in those areas. Retirement benefits are negotiated at the state level, but the UFT leadership has been advocating a reform to the tier system, with a preliminary budget proposal reducing employee vesting requirements from 10 years of service to five years of service for Tiers 5 and 6; and excluding overtime from the calculation when determining the employee contribution payment for Tier 6 members during COVID. This may be something the UFT leadership can tout as a victory to lessen the blow of a weak contract.

In 2018, the UFT passed a contract before most members had read it and before even the union delegates had a chance to read. It ended up including an appendix that gave the UFT the ability to re-negotiate health benefits to create savings for the government. That contract passed with around 85% support in the fall 2018 and then in the spring 2019 there was a leadership election and UFT President Mulgrew and his caucus won about 85% support. Obviously the support for the leadership is lower in 2022, so it is possible that a contract will also find less support. In 2018, Occupational Therapists and Physical Therapists voted down their contract that the UFT leadership negotiated and have since won their chapter leadership elections. It is unclear how other non-teacher titles will react with their upcoming contracts.

In 2019 the wage increase in the contract was about 2% but inflation was also just above 2%.  If there is a similar increase in the new contract, it would be nowhere near inflation. This could activate members to vote against such a contract, but it’s equally possible too many members are numb from years of givebacks, broken promises, and declining protections, benefits, and conditions.

In 2019, the UFT Executive Board was fully controlled by the Unity Caucus of UFT President Mulgrew. This body rubber stamped the contract. While the Executive Board will probably do the same this time, there are at least 7 (out of 102) opposition activists on the Executive Board now, following the 56-44% election victory of the big tent opposition coalition United For Change in the high school division, and it is likely these new high school teacher representatives will at least try to have questions asked and provisions clarified before any potential deal goes to the Delegate Assembly and then the wider membership.

Most members are not involved in contract discussions at their schools. The UFT leadership has seemed fine with this for years now. The opposition caucuses and activists can continue to organize around contract demands, many of which were in the platform of United for Change. Having a concerted grassroots contract campaign is the only way to ensure that, if the UFT leadership presents a weak contract, members have a vehicle that can give them a voice and a place to organize.

Whether the UFT and other unions which endorsed Mayor Adams for mayor will continue to prioritize back room deals and negotiations will be largely dependent on the mood of the base of their unions. With Adams openly embracing unfettered capitalism and overseeing the attrition of the city workforce there is a potential for a fightback but that potential is tempered by the fact that most public sector NYC workers are not organizing together. The path forward for contracts which improve workplace safety, preserve and expand health benefits and provide raises tracked to inflation involves building connections and activities with our workplaces, within our unions, and with fellow city workers in other unions.

 

 

On Contradiction: Mao’s Party-Substitutionist Revolution in Theory and Practice – Part 2

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“The Reddest Reddest Red Sun in Our Heart, Chairman Mao”
(Women xinzhong zuihong zuihongde hong taiyang Mao zhuxi he women xin lianxin)

This is the second part of a four-part article. The other parts can be found here:

Part 1
Part 3
Part 4
IV. THE YOUNG MAO

Infatuation with tyrants, peasant revolutions, and heroic saviors

Of all the early founders of the Communist Party, Mao was perhaps the most nationalist and least attracted to Marxism. Born into a middling prosperous rich-peasant-cum-merchant-landlord Hunanese family, Mao was schooled in both traditional Confucian classics of history and literature and then also in the new Western education. His learning was highly eclectic and intensely self-driven. In primary school, as he told Edgar Snow in 1936, “I knew the Classics, but disliked them. What I enjoyed were the romances of Old China, and especially stories of the rebellions. I read … The Water Margin, Revolt Against the Tang, The Three Kingdoms, and Travels in the West…. I was much influenced by such books, read at an impressionable age.”[22]

For a future self-proclaimed socialist, the young Mao also displayed an inordinate attraction to despots, tyrants, and mass murderers. His boyhood hero was Zeng Guofan, a conservative Confucian viceroy who rescued the Qing dynasty and the gentry-landlord ruling class by bloodily suppressing the massive Taiping rebellion of the mid-19th century. He admired “law and order” authoritarians like Shang Yang, the 4th century BC founder of the Legalist school of statecraft whose anti-feudal reforms underpinned the centralizing and social-leveling state of Qin. Shang Yang is said to have abolished feudalism, replacing primogeniture and feudal land tenure with individual property and a rigid bureaucratic organization into districts. He replaced the Confucian governance of “wise and virtuous ministers” with a system of absolute “rule of law” that imposed draconian punishments. The population was divided into so-called “self-responsibility” groups of 5 and 10. He ordered his ministers to spy on and inform on one another. He instituted the system of mutual responsibility in which whole families were punished for any crime committed by one member. Peasants were barred from any work except farming, women were assigned to sewing. “Let the people be yoked to the land … and their life away from their homes be made dangerous for them. They should not be allowed to migrate.” Merchants “should be hampered as much as possible by heavy tolls … made to live simply, heavy taxes should be fixed for luxuries….” Slavery was widespread. Poverty was universal among the lower classes. “Punish severely the light crimes … and thus people will commit no crimes and disorder will not arise.” Punishments included “branding on the top of the head, extracting of ribs and, for persistent miscreants, boiling in a cauldron.”[23]

In a school essay written in 1912 when he was 19, Mao wrote:

Shang Yang’s laws were good laws. If you have a look today … at the great political leaders who have pursued the welfare of the country and the happiness of the people, is not Shang Yang one of the very first on the list? During the reign of Duke Xiao, the Central Plain was in turmoil, with wars being constantly waged and the entire country exhausted beyond description. Shang Yang … unified the Central Plain … then he published his … laws to punish the wicked and rebellious … he stressed agriculture and weaving, in order to increase the wealth of the people … He made slaves of the indigent and idle, in order to put an end to waste. This amounted to a great policy such as our country had never had before.[24]

The eminent Mao scholar Stuart Schram remarks that “It would be reading too much into a single document to conclude from this class essay that Mao was … a ‘Legalist’ from the beginning. It is nonetheless striking that the corpus of his writings should begin with a celebration of one of the principal founders of this authoritarian school of thought, with its emphasis on harsh punishments and strict state control of all social activity” “The themes enunciated here are so plainly and forcefully stated as scarcely to require comment. In Mao’s view, there must be a strong state, and there must be unquestioning acceptance of its authority. It was the vocation of such a state to ensure the wealth of its people, as well as its own military power.”[25]

In my own reading the Book of Lord Shang I was astonished at how certain key features — centralized despotic rule, social leveling of classes, farmers tied to the land (by serfdom in his day and by the hukou resident permit system established by Mao’s government from 1949), state assignment of occupations, mutual spying and denunciation, and group punishment of families for the crimes of one individual – were all reproduced de novo in Mao’s barracks communism. Many remain in effect down to this day.

Among contemporary political figures, Mao applauded the brutal military governor of Hunan province (1913-16) Tang Xiangming aka “Tang the Butcher” (1886-1975) who slaughtered followers of Sun Yat-sen, and even warlord Yuan Shikai (1859-1916) who drove Sun Yat-sen into exile, installed himself as “President” of the Republic, proclaimed Confucianism a state religion, and tried to reestablish the monarchy with himself as first emperor of the Xin (New) Dynasty.[26] In short, “Mao’s esteem for Confucianism was accompanied by an authoritarian preference for ‘law and order.’”[27]

Confucian schooling inculcates the authority of “superior men” to lift up the “little people”

Mao read widely in the translated Western texts that influenced the Chinese nationalist modernizers of the early 20th century.[28] But whereas more radical May Fourth intellectuals like Lu Xun, Ding Ling, and Chen Duxiu called for a wholesale rejection of Confucian feudal culture in favor of Western values, Mao felt that traditional Confucianism still had much to recommend it and sought a synthesis of East and West.[29] He bitterly condemned the condition of students and traditional Confucian schools with their pretentious professors who “treat us like criminals, humiliate us like slaves, lock us up like prisoners” in their poorly equipped schools devoid of modern books or laboratories and “forcibly impregnate our minds with a lot of stinking corpse-like dead writings full of classical allusions.”[30]

Borrowing from the Western Enlightenment Mao praised Rousseau’s method of “self-instruction”[31] and, indeed, he dropped out of his First Middle School because of its limited curriculum to pursue a systematic program of self-directed study at the Hunan Provincial Library, about which he told Snow:

I was very regular and conscientious about it, and the half-year I spent in this way I consider to have been extremely valuable to me…. I read many books, studied world geography and world history. There for the first time I saw and studied with great interest a map of the world. I read Adam Smith’s The Wealth of Nations, and Darwin’s Origin of Species, and a boon on ethics by John Stuart Mill. I read the works of Rousseau, Spencer’s Logic, and a book on law on law by Montesquieu. I mixed poetry and romances, and the tales of ancient Greece, with serious study of history and geography of Russia, America, England, France, and other countries.[32]

He also adopted scientific methodology in evidence-based sociological research into rural class structure, which he modeled with his own investigations of rural village class structure in 1926 and would encourage party members to employ to build rural support in the Yan’an years. He likewise condemned the condition of Chinese women locked up in “their various dens, not even allowed to go outside the front gate … [abused by] shameless men who make us their playthings.” “We are also human beings, so why won’t they let us participate in politics [and society]” he wrote, and called for the emancipation of women.[33] After all, as he famously put it “women hold up half the sky.”

But he cared nothing for “Mr. Democracy” and indeed would later categorically express his hostility to democracy both within the Party and in society in general (see below). His enthusiasm for “Mr. Science” also had sharp limits as from the 1940s, by which time Mao had become a full Stalinist as well, he initiated serial persecutions of intellectuals from the Rectification movement of the 1940s to the Anti-Rightist campaign in 1957 and culminating in his murderous attacks on independent thinkers in every field in the Cultural Revolution. And, remarkably, even though he had waged a decade-long struggle to free himself from his domineering father in order to shape his own career, Mao never fully embraced Western individualism against the crushing conformity of Confucian patriarchy. Instead, as we’ll see, he repurposed Confucian authoritarianism, subordination to the family, sexism and social conformity to serve his own purposes in forging a “substitute proletariat.” Mao’s radicalism was evolving in a different, more authoritarian, direction.

In 1913 at age 20 he enrolled in First Provincial Normal School, a teacher training college from which he graduated in 1918. His favorite teacher, the Neo-Confucianist Yang Changji, a returned student from England, taught moral cultivation and ethics with a modernist bent. Mao said of him: “He was an idealist, and a man of high moral character. He believed in his ethics very strongly and tried to imbue his students with a desire to become just, moral, virtuous, and useful to society.”[34] Mao spent five years in systematic study of Neo-Confucianism under Yang, particularly its radical, modernized wing, which had fused with nationalism.[35] Yang lamented China’s plight and its weakness in the face of stronger foreign powers. Yang taught that a nation cannot be strong “if many are frail.” People must have “vigor” and “struggle” to obtain its goals. Thus he said, “it’s urgent for us to temper our bodies.” Yang advised his students to engage in “self-cultivation” (xiushen) of both the mind and body as the means to strengthen the nation.[36] Yang’s admonitions were reflected in Mao’s first published essay written in 1917 when he was 23. In “A study of physical education” Mao writes “Physical education complements education in virtue and knowledge…. Among the civilized nations of today, it is in Germany that [physical education] most flourishes … Japan, for its part has bushido. Physical education … also strengthens the will. The principal aim of physical education is military heroism. Such objects of military heroism as courage, dauntlessness, audacity, and perseverance.”[37]

To this end, while in college Mao organized a political study group with his Hunanese activist friends, the “New People’s Study Society” to study progressive ideas. In his words this was “a serious-minded little group of men [who] had no time for trivialities.” Such groups were popular among New Culture Movement students across China at the time, and Mao’s group was to produce many future leaders of the Chinese Communist Party. Later, Mao told Edgar Snow that

We also became ardent physical culturists. In the winter holidays we tramped through the fields, up and down mountains, along city walls, and across the streams and rivers. It if rained we took off our shirts and called it a rain bath…. We slept in the open when frost was already falling and even in November swam in the cold rivers…. Perhaps it helped much to build the physique which I was to need so badly later on in my many marches back and forth across South China, and on the Long March from Kiangsi to the Northwest.[38]

Steeped in neo-Confucianism in the years before the Bolshevik revolution and the May Fourth movement presented other plausible revolutionary agencies, Mao still looked to “sages” and “superior men” to rescue China through their mental and physical heroism. In a letter of August 1917 to Li Jinxi, his former teacher, Mao wrote that China’s people had “accumulated too many undesirable customs” and their mentality was “too antiquated.” The state could become “rich, powerful, and happy” only if there was an elite of “superior men” imbued with “ultimate principles” to “change fundamentally the thinking of the whole country”:

When little people burden superior men, the gentlemen should be benevolent and seek to save these little people … Superior men already possess lofty wisdom and morality; if there were only superior men in the world, then politics, law, rites, systems, as well as superfluous agriculture, industry, and commerce could all be abolished, and would be of no use. It is different when there are too many little people. The world’s management follows the criterion of the majority, at the expense of the part made up of superior men; that is how little people burden superior men. But the little people are pitiable. If the superior men care only for themselves, they may leave the crowd and live like hermits… If they have compassionate hearts, then they [recognize] the little people as fellow countrymen and a part of the same universe. If we go off by ourselves, they will sink lower and lower. It is better for us to lend a helping hand, so that their minds may be opened up and their virtue be increased, so that we may share the realm of the sages with them…. The great harmony is our goal. Those who are virtuous, meritorious, and eloquent do their best to serve the world. We have compassion within our hearts, which makes us strive to save the little people.[39]

And in marginal comments written in 1917-18, Mao wrote that

The truly great person develops the original nature with which nature endowed him, and expands upon the best, the greatest of the capacities of his original nature. This is what makes him great. Everything that comes from outside his original nature, such as restraints and restrictions, is cast aside…. The great actions of the hero … are the expression of his motive power, lofty and cleansing, relying on no precedent. His force is like that of a powerful wind arising from a deep gorge, like the irresistible sexual drive for one’s lover, a force that will not stop, that cannot be stopped. All obstacles dissolve before him.[40]

Stuart Schram observes that “for all the changes Mao’s ideas underwent during the decade after 1912, his personality (cast of mind) remained strikingly consistent. In particular, the focus on the individual will or consciousness, and on the role of the hero, stands out in all of Mao’s early writings, and indeed throughout his entire life. The emphasis on military heroism, and the martial ethos, is also a recurrent trait, long antedating the beginning of his experience of guerrilla warfare in the countryside in 1927.[41]

Not only that but even after he converted to Marxism and joined the Communist Party in 1921 Mao still retained his elitist and patronizing Confucianist ethos in which only a self-selected elite of “superior men” (the communist mandarinate he would construct, led by one particular “truly great person”) with mastery of their own “ultimate principles” (Mao Zedong Thought) could lead the national revolution and make China “rich and powerful and happy.”

The impact of the May Fourth Movement

After graduation from Normal School in Changsha in 1918, Mao found employment as an assistant librarian at Beijing University under head and professor of politics, history, and economics, Li Dazhao. Li was the first Chinese intellectual to embrace the Bolshevik revolution, although like most neophyte communists of the era, he was more of a nationalist and anarchist than a Marxist. Mao told Snow that Li introduced him to Marxism in 1919. But historian Maurice Meisner writes that “If so, Marxism made little impression on him at the time. What clearly did influence him was anarchism.” Mao was impressed by Kropotkin’s theory of “mutual aid” and combining mental and manual labor, which he would retool as “being one with the masses” and “red and expert.” He was even more deeply impressed by the Russian populist Alexander Herzen’s theory of the “advantages of backwardness.” According to Herzen, the supposed moral and social virtues inherent in its backwardness would enable Russia to “bypass capitalism” and achieve socialism. Li Dazhao embraced this vision and extended it to China with his thesis that China was a “proletarian nation.”[42] The embryo of this idea of “leaping over stages” appears in the final paragraph of Mao’s 1919 populist tract “The Great Union of the Popular Masses”:

Our Chinese people possess great inherent capacities! The more profound the oppression, the more powerful the reaction, and since this has been accumulating for a long time, it will surely burst forth quickly … the reform of the Chinese people will be more profound than that of any other people … We must all advance with the utmost strength! Our golden age, our age of glory and splendor, lies before us![43]

Up to 1919 Mao was still looking to a cadre of “superior men” to enlighten China’s masses and transform society but neither he nor the other May Fourth intellectuals had any idea how they might actually transform society. As intellectuals they were few and weak with no real power in society. After the May Fourth Movement protests broke out, Mao says “he took a more direct role in politics.” He founded the Hsiang River Review, an influential student newspaper and was active in student anti-militarist organizing in Hunan calling for equal rights for men and women and bourgeois democracy. But the students were easily repressed and Mao drew the conclusion that “only mass political power … could guarantee the realization of dynamic reforms.” [44]

The 1917 Russian Revolution and the revolutionary upsurges that followed across Europe, and the May Fourth 1919 outbreak of student protests in Beijing, worker strikes in Shanghai and other cities, and the spontaneous self-organization of trade unions, peasants associations and so on opened the prospect of new agents of social change beyond students and intellectuals. Mao hailed the Russian and European revolutions and championed the emergence of Chinese labor unions. He called for them to federate, form alliances, and ultimately to coalesce into one big union — a “Great Union of the Popular Masses” — sort of a Chinese IWW though at his writing in 1919 still without a program. Moreover, the class nature of this one big union was as yet undefined. “In my opinion,” Mao wrote, “the motive force for the great union of the popular masses of China is to be found precisely [in the] “purely great unions of the popular masses who have risen up to resist the oppressors within and without the country.” But he had to concede that “[a]ll such societies, clubs, general associations, unions must inevitably include a considerable number of gentry (shenshi ) and ‘politicians’ who do not belong to the popular masses….”[45] Mao’s conception of an inclusive “great union” foreshadowed the Communist’s multi-class “New Democracy” program of the 1940s. 

Conversion to Marxism and communism

“In the winter of 1920,” Mao told Snow, “I organized workers politically for the first time, and began to guided by the influence of Marxist theory and the Russian revolution.” During his second visit to Beijing he met with Chen Duxiu who greatly influenced his thinking and while there he read intensively about the Russian revolution sought out what little Communist literature was then available in Chinese. Three books especially impressed him and convinced him that Marxism offered the correct interpretation of history: the Communist Manifesto, Kautsky’s Class Struggle, and  A History of Socialism by Kirkup. “By the summer of 1920 I had become, in theory and to some extent in action, a Marxist, and from this time on I considered myself a Marxist.”[46]

In May 1921 Mao attended the founding meeting of the Communist Party in Shanghai as its Hunan delegate. He was one of just 12 delegates. Yet even with only 59 members in 1921 and barely 300 a year later, the fledgling party set about organizing urban students and workers. Mao threw himself into this work in 1922-23. By May 1922 the Hunan branch of the Party, of which he was secretary, had organized more than twenty trade unions among miners, railway workers, municipal employees, printers, and workers in the government mint. The communists (and anarchists) led many strikes for better wages, better treatment, and recognition of the unions. On May 1st, they organized a general strike. This, Mao recalled, “marked the achievement of unprecedented strength in the labor movement in China.”[47] In the early twenties China’s proletariat numbered around three million but most of those were handicrafts workers and only around 50,000 worked in what was then modern industry. They were neophyte trade unionist and as yet unsophisticated politically but militant fighters and fast learners. However, their gains were short lived. On February 7, 1923 Wu Peifu, the dominant warlord of North China, slaughtered the striking railroad workers in central China. In one blow the “February 7th Massacre” destroyed the most powerful and militant workers’ movement in China, shattered the Party’s proletarian base, precipitated the suppression of radical and labor organizations throughout China, and ended Mao’s brief career as a labor organizer.[48]

The suppression of the radical working class movement in central and north China made the Communists more receptive to the Comintern policy of seeking alliance with Sun Yat-sen’s nationalist party, the Guomindang (GMD). The failure of proletarian revolutions in Europe left Russia isolated in a hostile capitalist world. With the prospects of world revolution waning, survival dictated that Russia seek alliances with anti-imperialist “bourgeois nationalist” forces in colonial and semi-colonial lands that could offer some political and military support (or at least that was their hope). That in turn required putting the brakes on the embryonic communist movements in those countries. Thus in 1922, the Comintern told the Chinese that the socialist revolution would have to be postponed, that China was still in the stage of “bourgeois-democratic revolution,” and it instructed the tiny CCP (which was still dependent upon the Soviets for funds, training, etc.) to cooperate with the larger GMD (with some 50,000 members) in a common front against foreign imperialism and domestic feudalism. Engaging with the GMD in a United Front would have enabled the CCP to maintain its independence, recruit and build its party, and openly criticize and refuse co-operation when it perceived that the GMD was backsliding on its commitments to the bourgeois-democratic revolution. But the Sun Yat-sen insisted, and the Comintern concurred, that CCP members join as individuals rather than in a United Front, that they subordinate their work to building the GMD, and that they obey the dictates of the GMD without question — a fateful decision that would leave the Communists and the labor unions defenseless when the GMD, under Chiang Kai-shek from 1925, turned on the Communists and massacred the urban party and labor militants killing tens of thousands in 1926-27 and hundreds of thousands in the White Terror that followed.

Mao’s developing political and strategic vision: a new peasant revolution, this time led by the Communist Party

By 1923 Mao had abandoned hope that the urban working class could be the agent of revolution in China and he became one of the most ardent supporters of the Comintern-imposed GMD-CCP alliance.[49] Two events seemed to have confirmed his rejection of working class agency: First, the ease with which the warlords could destroy the militant but unarmed workers and their unions in the February Seventh Massacre of 1923. Second, the spontaneous formation of peasant unions in his native Hunan province in the winter-spring of 1925, inspired by peasant uprisings in neighboring Guangdong where the first peasant soviet would be founded that year. Mao told Snow that “Formerly I had not fully realized the degree of class struggle among the peasantry, but after the May 30th Incident [1925], and during the great wave of political activity which followed it, the Hunanese peasantry became very militant. I left my home, where I had been resting, and began a rural organizational campaign. In a few months we had formed more than twenty peasant unions, and had aroused the wrath of the landlords….”[50] Mao was an enthusiastic and the most visible Communist member of the GMD. He rose quickly through the Nationalist Party, was put in charge of training organizers of the peasant movement at the Peasant Movement Training Institute, and was elected an alternate of the GMD Central Executive Committee.[51] His reorientation to the peasantry invited criticism from his comrades in the CCP including Chen Duxiu.

In January 1927, Mao published his iconoclastic “Report on an investigation of the peasant movement in Hunan.” He wrote this in reply, he said, “to the carping criticisms both inside and outside the Party then being leveled at the peasants’ revolutionary struggle.” In this extraordinary document, one that could have been authored by a Russian Narodnik, he intimated his rejection of Marxist-Leninist orthodoxy and embraced the spontaneity and revolutionary power of the peasantry, declaring that the peasants were the vanguards of the Chinese revolution:

In a very short time, several hundred million peasants will rise like a mighty storm…. They will smash all the trammels that bind them and rush forward along the road to liberation. They will sweep all the imperialists, warlords, corrupt officials, local tyrants and evil gentry into their graves. Every revolutionary party and every revolutionary comrade will be put to the test…. There are three alternatives. To march at their head and lead them? To trail behind them, gesticulating and criticizing? Or to stand in their way and oppose them? Every Chinese is free to choose, but events will force you to make the choice quickly.[52]

Impatient like all Chinese nationalists with the Marxist axiom that the socialist revolution must await capitalist development, disillusioned with urban proletarian-led revolution, inspired by romantic visions of China’s historical peasant uprisings, and attracted to idealist narodnik visions of “skipping stages,” by 1927 Mao’s break with Marxist-Leninist doctrine was more or less complete. With the failure of the bourgeois-democratic revolution of 1911-12 and the suppression of the workers’ proletarian-socialist revolution of 1925-27, Mao concluded that in China’s case, only another massive peasant revolution — this time with its own Red Army and led by the Communist Party, stood a chance of overturning the old order. As he famously put it in the summer of 1927: “Political power grows out of the barrel of a gun.”

The defeat of the worker-led revolution of 1927 ended the only potential socialist revolution China ever knew. It fell to the communist survivors of the 1927 massacres to either try to rebuild the urban-based party underground — which Chen Duxiu and a few hundred Trotskyist oppositionists attempted to do, though their efforts were effectively doomed by the Communist Party’s abandonment of the workers, retreat from the cities, and by the Comintern’s insistence even after Chiang Kai-shek’s coup that the CCP must still subordinate itself to the Guomindang (GMD) and help it win the national revolution and the resistance war agaist Japan[53] — or flee to the countryside to regroup and devise a new strategy. The defeat of the workers’ revolution set the stage for the eventual success of an entirely different kind of revolution, the first peasant-based revolution led by a substitutionist vanguard party.

The historic saga of Mao’s revolution is well known. It began as communists fled the cities in the late twenties and regrouped themselves into small guerilla military units that evolved into the first Red armies and established the first rural “soviets” in the hinterlands around Canton. Mao led his own Kiangsi mini state-within-the-state containing around three million people with some success from 1931-34, fending off three successive GMD encirclement campaigns. But the fourth campaign cost the Red Army heavy losses and as the fifth campaign loomed, Mao’s main forces broke out of Chiang’s traps in 1934 and embarked on the harrowing 6,000 mile “Long March” to the far northwest of China. In October 1935, the 8,000 or so survivors reached the remote northwest Shanxi-Gansu-Ningxia Border Region where the exhausted Communists established their capital at Yan’an city, Shanxi, and began to reconstruct their party to re-launch the revolution on a peasant base.

Workers vs. peasants and socialist revolution

Yet in re-launching the revolution from a rural base the Communists faced a major dilemma. In an economically backward, impoverished and mostly illiterate rural peasant milieu, who could replace the proletariat as the social agency of socialist revolution?

For Marx and Engels, what distinguished their materialist “scientific” socialism from utopian socialism was their thesis that the industrial working class, and only the working class, could lead the socialist revolution, and that in so doing, the proletariat would become the “universal class,” the universal emancipator of humanity. Why the proletariat and not the bourgeoisie or the peasantry? Because the bourgeoisie and the peasantry could only represent partial interests, not the common interests of humanity. On the other hand, the industrial proletariat worked co-operatively together in specialized and interdependent modern industries, with modern technology and inputs often sourced from abroad and producing for a world market. Thrown together in common experience and struggle, their consciousness was constantly revolutionized:

When [French] communist artisans assemble [Marx wrote in the Paris Manuscripts of 1844], educationals, propaganda, etc. are above all their end. But at the same time they thereby acquire a new need, the need for fellowship, and what appears as a means has become an end…. [T]he brotherhood of man is not an empty phrase with them but a reality, and the nobility of man shines out to us from their work-hardened figures…. The English proletarian is also making gigantic progress…. But in any case it is among these “barbarians” of our civilized society that history is making ready the practical element for the emancipation of man.

One must be acquainted [he wrote in The Holy family] with the studiousness, the craving for knowledge, the moral energy and the unceasing urge for development of the French and English ouvriers to be able to form an idea of the human nobility of that movement.

And their potential: Neither Marx nor Engels invented the concept of self-emancipation. That idea incubated in French artisan circles, and their vision went beyond the factory system to challenge the whole property system that made it possible: “Recall the Song of the Weavers,” Marx wrote in an 1844 commentary, “that bold call to struggle, in which there is not even mention of hearth and home, factory or district, but in which the proletariat at once, and in unrestrained and powerful manner, proclaims its opposition to the society of private property…. Not only machines, these rivals of the workers, are destroyed, but also ledgers, the titles to property.”[54] Only in the abolition of the capitalist property system could they throw off their chains. And only by overthrowing the entire existing social order and replacing it with a workers’ democracy, could they liberate themselves and in the process the whole of humanity.[55]

The Paris Commune, spontaneously invented by the Parisian workers, was the first example of a workers’ government.

For Marx, the heroic if brief Paris Commune of 1871 was the world’s first historical example of working class self-rule. As he wrote in The Civil War in France:

The Commune was formed of the municipal councillors, chosen by universal suffrage in the various wards of the town, responsible and revocable at short terms. The majority of its members were naturally working men, or acknowledged representatives of the working class. The Commune was to be a working, not a parliamentary body, executive and legislative at the same time. . .  the police was at once stripped of its political attributes, and turned into the responsible, and at all times revocable, agent of the Commune. So were the officials of all other branches of the administration. From the members of the Commune downwards, the public service had to be done at workman’s wage…. [56]

The next example was in Russia. The Czarist government was overthrown in February 1917 not by Lenin’s Bolsheviks (he was exiled in Switzerland at the time) but by a spontaneous revolt of industrial workers and mutinous soldiers and sailors. As historian E.H. Carr wrote:

The February Revolution of 1917…was the spontaneous outbreak of a multitude exasperated by the privations of the war…. The revolutionary parties played no direct part in the making of the revolution. They did not expect it, and were at first somewhat nonplussed by it. The creation at the moment of the revolution of a Petrograd Soviet of Workers’ Deputies was a spontaneous act of groups of workers without central direction.[57]

In 1917, the Petrograd proletariat turned it into “a true workers’ parliament acting and taking positions on a great number and variety of questions.”[58] In the first years of the soviets, multiple parties contended in the soviets including Socialist Revolutionaries (SRs), Mensheviks, Bolsheviks, Anarchists, and several other socialist groups. As in the Paris Commune, delegates were elected and subject to recall by their various constituencies. The Czar abdicated in early March and appointed a provisional government. But the government had little support beyond the bourgeoisie and landed classes while the soviets multiplied across the country and enjoyed the support of most workers and peasants. From February to October the soviets ruled in dual power with the provisional government.[59]

Mao on the limitations of the peasantry

None of this initiative, collective organization, technological skill, or political vision could be expected from peasants. As both the Russian and Chinese experiences had shown, an aroused peasantry could be a mighty force for revolution, a battering ram. But it was not a force for socialist revolution and could not even lead the national liberation struggle. Physically isolated and atomized in predominantly self-sufficient patriarchal family units of production, shackled by a primitive technology and grinding poverty, limited by a conservative culture, the peasants’ conception of emancipation reflected their existence. Above all this was an essentially negative conception: they sought mainly to get rid of their exploiters, the landlords and tax collectors, to be left alone to enjoy the untrammeled security of their small properties. Their driving interests were not towards socialism, collectivization, industrialization, but toward equal division of the land, toward small property. Their whole perspective was petty bourgeois, localist, and particularist. It was this elemental struggle for the land, born of misery, and desperation that had powered countless peasant revolts in China’s past—each time with the same result: the restoration of gentry rule.

As Mao himself reported to the Central Committee in Shanghai in February 1929: “It is difficult for them [the peasants] to understand that the Communist Party does not distinguish between national and provincial borders; they even have problems understanding that it does not distinguish between counties, regions, and villages … mechanized industry is beyond their wildest dreams, and they have no conception of imperialism.”[60] The peasantry was incapable of breaking out of this ancient cycle on its own. Without the proletariat, who then could do so?

[continued in part 3]

 

Notes

[22] Edgar Snow, Red Star Over China (New York: Grove, 1938).

[23] J. J.-L. Duyvendak, The Book of Lord Shang (San Francisco: Chinese Materials Center, 1974).

[24] Stuart R. Schram, ed. Mao’s Road to Power, Vol. 1 (New York: M E. Sharpe, 1992), 6.

[25] Schram, Mao’s Road, Vol. 1, xxii.

[26] Meisner, Mao, 5-8.

[27] Ibid., 7.

[28] Snow, Red Star, 144.

[29] Schram, Mao’s Road, Vol. 1, xvi.

[30] Ibid., 382.

[31] Ibid., 382.

[32] Snow, Red Star, 144.

[33] See also Mao’s “The women’s revolutionary army” (July 14, 1919), and “Do you mean to say that walking is only for men?” (July 14, 1919), both translated in Schram, Mao’s Road Vol. 1, 353 and 351.

[34] Wang Fanxi, Mao Zedong Thought (Chicago: Haymarket, 2021), 69.

[35] Ibid., 71.

[36] As recorded in Maos’s class notes from Yang’s lectures. Schram, Mao’s Road, xxvii

[37] Schram, Mao’s Road, Vol. 1, 113-127.

[38] Snow, Red Star, 147.

[39] Schram, Letter to Li Jinxi, Mao’s Road, Vol. 1, 130-36.

[40] Mao Zedong, “Marginal Notes to: Friedrich Paulsen, A System of Ethics,” (1917-1918), Schram, Mao’s Road, 263-64.

[41] Schram, Mao’s Road, Vol. 1, xxii.

[42] Meisner, Mao, 16, 19-20.

[43] Schram, Mao’s Road, Vol. 1, 389.

[44] Snow, Red Star, 154.

[45] Schram, Mao’s Road, Vol. 1, 381-388.

[46] Snow, Red Star, 154-55.

[47] Ibid. 158.

[48] Meisner, Mao, 35.

[49] Ibid. 36-37

[50] Snow, Red Star, 159. The May Thirtieth Incident (1925), in China, was a nationwide series of strikes and demonstrations precipitated by the killing of 13 labor demonstrators by British police in Shanghai. This was the largest anti-foreign demonstration China had yet experienced and it encompassed people of all classes from all parts of the country.

[51] Snow, Red Star, 159-60.

[52] “Report on an Investigation of the Peasant Movement in Hunan” (March 1927).

[53] Gregor Benton, Prophets Unarmed (New York: Haymarket Press, 2015), p. 5 and passim.

[54] Marx, “Critical marginal notes on the article “The King of Prussia and social reform by a Prussian” in Marx and Engels, Collected Works (CW), 3, 201, quoted in Mike Davis, 13.

[55] Marx, “The Paris Manuscripts of 1944,” “The critique of Hegel’s Philosophy of Right,” “Theses on Feuerbach,” The Civil War in France. Marx and Engels, the Communist Manifesto 1848. See the exegesis by Hal Draper, Karl Marx’s Theory of Revolution, Part 1, chapters 6&7 (New York: Monthly Review Press, 1977), 136-37. Also Mike Davis, Old Gods New Enigmas: Marx’s Lost Theory (London: Verso, 2018) chapter 1.

[56] Marx, The Civil War in France, Third Address (May, 1871).

[57] E.H. Carr, The Bolshevik Revolution 1917–1923 (New York: Macmillan, 1951), v1, 70.

[58] Sam Farber, Before Stalinism (London: Polity Press, 1990), 19.

[59] Farber, Before, 19-20.

[60] Gao Hua, How the Red Sun Rose (Hong Kong: Chinese University, 2018,), 4.

The Conquest of Ukraine and the History of Russian Imperialism

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The Russian Empire in 1914.

In this pivotal war on a global scale, the Ukrainian nation is struggling to preserve its independence, obtained only 30 years ago, after centuries of domination and relentless Russification. It rejects the “Trinitarian” Russian nation (Russia, Belarus, and Ukraine) imagined in the tsarist era and claimed by Vladimir Putin. The Russian ruling class is struggling for the revival of a declining Russian imperialism that, without control over Ukraine, risks disappearing from the historical scene.

In 1937, at a reception on the occasion of the twentieth anniversary of the October Revolution, Joseph Stalin toasted “to the complete destruction of all enemies, themselves and their kin!” As eyewitness Georgi Dimitrov noted in his diary, in making this toast, Stalin explained that the tsars “did one thing that was good—they amassed an enormous state, all the way to Kamchatka. We have inherited that state. And for the first time, we, the Bolsheviks, have consolidated and strengthened that state as a united and indivisible state.” Therefore, “whoever attempts to destroy that unity of the socialist state, whoever seeks the separation of any of its parts or nationalities — that man is an enemy, a sworn enemy of the state and of the peoples of the USSR. And we will destroy each and every such enemy, even if he was an old Bolshevik; we will destroy all his kin, his family. We will mercilessly destroy anyone who, by his deeds or his thoughts — yes, his thoughts — threatens the unity of the socialist state.”[1]

Historically, Russian imperialism has been based on the ideas of “amassing Russian lands” and building a “unique and indivisible” Russian state. This imperialism has always been – and remains – as specific as the social formation of Russia itself has been and remained the same during the successive historical phases of its development, starting with the Tsardom of Russia (1547-1721). When Vladimir Lenin theorized “modern capitalist imperialism,” he stressed that in Russia “capitalist imperialism is weaker than military-feudal imperialism is.”[2] To describe the latter as feudal was an oversimplification. Probably from the middle of the sixteenth century, in the time of Ivan the Terrible, the Russian social formation was essentially a combination of two different pre-capitalist modes of exploitation. The first, feudal, was based on the fact that landowners extorted surplus labor from peasants in the form of rent. The other, tributary, was modeled on the Ottoman Empire, then the most powerful empire in the world,[3] and was based on the extraction by the state bureaucracy of the tax on the peasants.

In the Soviet Union, the Stalinist dogma of the unilinear development of humanity, with only five stages, was de rigueur. The tributary mode of exploitation had no place, especially since it could be associated (superficially, but not without reason) with the domination of the Stalinist bureaucracy. Some Soviet historians, without formally transgressing this scheme, cleverly circumvented the ban by calling it “state feudalism” or “eastern” feudalism, different from “private” and “Western” feudalism. From the middle of the seventeenth century and almost until the abolition of serfdom in 1861, the third form of exploitation – and more terrible for the peasantry – was slavery, including human trafficking, into which Russian serfdom actually degenerated.

Minimal surplus product

None of these modes of exploitation represented (contrary to supposedly Marxist discursive habits) is a mode of production, because they failed to formally and really subsume the productive forces under them, and therefore did not guarantee their sustainable and systematic development. However, it was on the basis of these modes of exploitation that the Russian state was formed. As pointed out by Ruslan Skrynnikov, one of the leading specialists in the oprichnina of Ivan the Terrible who unleashed the very first Great Terror in Russia and drowned in it, “some of its practices contained, as if in the embryonic state, all the further development of the nobiliary and bureaucratic absolute monarchy.”[4] In fact, not only of Tsardom, but of all Russian despotic regimes up to the twentieth and twenty-first centuries.

Another contemporary historian, Leonid Milov, puts forward very important theses on the peculiarities of the historical development of Russian society. Starting from the study of the natural and climatic conditions of production, he developed a key conception of “the history of Russia as a society with minimal total surplus product.”[5] The reasons for this are that compared to other agricultural societies, central Russia had a very short agricultural season, which because of the climate lasted only from the beginning of May to the beginning of October (in Western Europe, only in December and January did peasants not work in the fields); and in addition, the land was poor in humus.

The result was that “until the mechanization of this type of work,” there was low fertility and, therefore, a low volume for society’s total surplus product, which “created in this region, for centuries, a relatively primitive agricultural society.” Therefore, “in order to achieve a minimum result, it was necessary to concentrate the work as much as possible in a relatively short period of time. Individual peasant exploitation could not achieve the indispensable degree of concentration of labor efforts during objectively existing agricultural labor seasons,” so its fragility “has been compensated for through most of the millennial history of the Russian state by the very great role of the peasant community.”[6]

Unity of opposites

Peasants’ surplus labor could only be extorted – to a large extent or even entirely – at the expense of the labor necessary for its own reproduction, that is, by methods of absolute exploitation (rather than by relative exploitation based on the increase in labor productivity). This was not possible without imposing on them the harshest possible system of serfdom, especially since, given the general conditions of production, a strong communal organization of labor was necessary. The need “to optimize the size of the total surplus product” – to increase it in the interest of the state apparatuses and the ruling class – was pressing, but “in the way to this ‘optimization,’ that is, the objective need to intensify the exploitation of the peasants, was based on this same peasant community, bastion of local cohesion and means of peasant resistance.”[7]

From this was born “a kind of unity of opposites: what counterbalanced the inevitable existence of the community was a counterweight in the form of the most brutal and severe variant of the personal dependence of each member of this organism.” The impossibility of overcoming this contradiction without a considerable development of the productive forces, which was not allowed by pre-capitalist relations of exploitation, meant that the role of the state consisted in “creating a monolithic and powerful ruling class, capable of uprooting or neutralizing the defense mechanisms of the agrarian community in the process of daily exploitation of the peasantry.” Summing up, according to Milov: “The inevitability of the existence of the community, conditioned by its productive and social functions, ended up giving life to the most severe and brutal mechanisms to squeeze out as much surplus product as possible. Hence the emergence of the serfdom regime, which was able to neutralize the community as the basis of peasant resistance. In turn, this regime of serfdom became possible only because of the development of the most despotic forms of state power – the Russian autocratic regime.”[8] This is what has united the ruling class.

Where does the periphery begin?

At the same time, however, “the extremely extensive nature of agricultural production and the objective impossibility of intensifying it have meant that the main historical territory of the Russian state has not been able to withstand the growth in population density. Hence the constant need, for centuries, for the population to migrate to new territories in search of more fertile arable land, climatic conditions more favorable to agriculture, etc.”[9] Moreover, “migratory processes have gone hand in hand with the strengthening of the absolutist state, ready to control and defend large areas of the country,” and thus with the establishment of huge armed forces, although “the extremely small size of the total surplus product objectively created extremely unfavorable conditions for the formation of the so-called superstructure over the basic elements.”[10]

This centuries-old colonial, military, and secular state expansion to the south, southeast and east gradually encompassed vast areas, increasingly extensive “alien” peripheral territories and increasingly distant neighboring countries, victims of conquest. This expansion was accompanied by several hundred years of struggle on the part of the Tsardom of Russia and then the Russian Empire (1721-1917) for access to ice-free ports on the seas to the west and east. Hence the legitimate questions that are so difficult to answer correctly: “When did Russian colonization begin – with the occupation of Kazan, an ethnically foreign city, or Novgorod, ethnically close?” The Novgorod Republic fell under the onslaught of the Moscow army in 1478, and the Kazan Khanate in 1552. “Where are the borders of the Russian metropolis, where do the Russian colonies begin, and how can they be distinguished?” Because they have been so mobile, “Russia’s borders expanded both before the rise of Tsarism and during the Tsarist era with such rapidity that the very distinction between ‘external’ and ‘internal’ was fluid and indeterminate.”[11]

Military-colonial conquests

The historical formation of Russia was shaped in the process of military-colonial conquests of the Russian countryside and by peasant wars, in fact anti-colonial wars, that they provoked, accompanied by internal and external colonizations, conquests, looting, and colonial oppression of other peoples. As Alexander Etkind rightly puts it, “the Russian Empire was a great colonial system both at its distant frontiers and in its dark heartlands.”[12] Contrary to Russian mythology, the conquest of a country as huge as Siberia did not “extend the territory of Moscow to the border with China,” but turned Siberia into a typical colony. Yet it became common to perceive Siberia as an inseparable part of Russia, as well as later Poland, Lithuania, Finland, the Caucasus, Bukhara and Tuva – among others.

Some Russian historians, making their theoretical contribution to the construction of the dominant and, as is evident today, timeless “Russian idea,” have very cleverly called this phenomenon “Russia’s self-colonization”: the successive lands it seized did not become its colonies, but they “colonized themselves,”[13] because it was boundless (and, whether openly or secretly, remained boundless in the dominant ideology). After taking left-bank Ukraine in the seventeenth century, Russia’s participation in the partition of the Republic of the Two Nations (Poland-Lithuania) in the last decades of the eighteenth century allowed it to seize most of Ukraine on the right bank of the Dnieper – a total of 80% of Ukrainian land. This proved to be a fundamental strategic gain, reaching deeply into Europe and determining the scope and Eurasian character of the Russian Empire.

If the Russian nobility was a dominant order, the land never became entirely the private property of the nobles. This would have been contrary to the overriding interests of this imperial state, in the construction of which no social class played as important a role as itself – its apparatuses and bureaucratic personnel. It was not only the construction of a colossal army at the very cost of 25 years of peasant military service and immense military and civilian infrastructure financed by the forced labor of hundreds of thousands of other peasants, belonging both to the state and to the landowners, but also entire brigades of skilled craftspeople sent to truly forced labor in different parts of the country. Moreover, as Milov puts it, “the state machine was forced to advance the process of social division of labor, and especially the separation of industry and agriculture,”[14] against the resistance of dominant modes of exploitation that hindered this process.

Industrial serfdom

As a result, “the participation of the state in the creation of industry in the country contributed to a gigantic leap in the development of the productive forces, although the borrowing of ‘Western technologies’ by an archaic society in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries had a monstrous social effect: a mass of workers appeared forever attached to factories and workplaces (the so-called laborers “subjected in perpetuity”), and it stimulated the slide of society towards slavery.”[15] The enormous Russian military-industrial complex, the nucleus of which was the metallurgy of the Urals, was not established on the basis of the development of capitalist relations, but within the framework of feudal and tributary relations.[16]

It is true that capital flourished, but it was pre-capitalist and hindered the development of capitalism – “commercial capital developed not deeply, not by transforming production, but broadly, by increasing the radius of its operation,” and “advanced from the center toward the periphery, following the peasant settlers who, in search of fresh lands and freedom from imposts, were penetrating new territory.”[17]

Based on extra-economic coercion, pre-capitalist modes of exploitation dominated the capitalist mode of production in Russia until the revolution of 1917, not only in agriculture but also in industry, long after the reform of 1861.

When Russian social democracy was formed as a party, the work of about 30% of the industrial workers was still serf work, not wage labor, which this social democracy, including Lenin’s and Martov’s Iskra, associating industry (i.e., the productive forces, not the relations of production) with capitalism, did not see. “Even at the beginning of the twentieth century, more than half of the industrial enterprises of the main industrial core (the steel industry) were not capitalist in the strict sense of the term,” says Mikhail Voeikov. The pre-capitalist methods of extracting the surplus product of the labor of the direct producers that still prevailed “did not allow national capital to carry out the necessary accumulation,” which is why “foreign capital was so strong.”[18] Where capital already dominated in the Russian economy, it was almost immediately big capital and there were quickly processes of monopolization.

Multiplicity of revolutions

In Russia, therefore, “modern capitalist imperialism” was being born, but it was “enmeshed” – Lenin wrote just before the 1917 revolution – “in a particularly close network of pre-capitalist relations,” so close that “in general, military and feudal imperialism is predominant in Russia.”[19] The foundation of this imperialism was “the monopoly of military power, vast territories, or special facilities for robbing minority nationalities, China, etc.,” that is, of the non-Russian peoples within Russia itself and of the peoples of neighboring countries. At the same time, Lenin wrote, this extra-economic monopoly “partly supplements, partly takes the place of, the monopoly of modern, up-to-date finance capital.”[20] Virtually all exegetes of Lenin’s writings on imperialism do not mention this theoretical proposition, which is crucial for the study of the Russian social formation.[21]

The collapse of this entanglement of Russian “military and feudal” imperialism with capitalist imperialism was not the work of a single revolution, but of various revolutions converging and diverging, forming alliances and clashing violently. The Russian Revolution of October 1917 was one of them. At the center of the empire, it was a worker and peasant revolution; in the colonial periphery, it was based on Russian and Russified urban minorities and settlements. It had a colonizing character, as did the Russian power of the councils it established, as demonstrated by the Bolshevik Georgi Safarov in his once-classic work on the “colonial revolution” in Turkestan. “Membership of the industrial proletariat of a Tsarist colony was a national privilege of the Russians. This is why, here too, the dictatorship of the proletariat has taken on a typically colonizing appearance from the very first moments” (emphasis in original).[22]

But among the oppressed peoples, the Russian Revolution also sparked national revolutions. The most territorially extensive, violent, dynamic, and unpredictable of these was the Ukrainian revolution. Its outburst, and even more the momentum it gained, was unexpected. A peasant nation, without “its” landowners and “its” capitalists, with a thin layer of petty bourgeoisie and intelligentsia and a forbidden language, did not seem destined or capable of a successful revolution. Since the Russian army wiped out the Zaporozhian Sich, the stronghold of the Free Cossacks, in 1775, the Ukrainian people for the first time proclaimed their independence in 1918. Formally it was done, with great popular support, in January 1918 in Kiev by the Central Rada (Council) formed by petty-bourgeois Ukrainian parties. Frightened by the proletarian revolution that had brought the Bolsheviks to power in Petrograd and Moscow, the Central Rada decided in this manner to separate Ukraine from Soviet Russia, and immediately became involved in a war with the Bolsheviks.

Ukrainian National Revolution

Some Ukrainian Bolsheviks (although the percentage of Ukrainians among the members of the Bolshevik Party in Ukraine was negligible) nevertheless also wanted a revolutionary Ukraine, a Soviet one like Russia, but independent. But above all, in the radical left, the Ukrainian Communist Party (Borotbist)—separated from the Bolsheviks and formed by the left wing of the Ukrainian Socialist-Revolutionary Party and part of the left wing of Ukrainian Social Democracy—wanted national independence. Allied with the Bolsheviks, this party had a social base incomparably broader than theirs.

The alliance of the Borotbists with the Bolsheviks was very difficult. The head of the Bolshevik government set up after the second occupation of Kiev by the Red Army in 1919, Christian Rakovsky, coming from Bulgaria, proclaimed that “decreeing the Ukrainian language as the state language would be a reactionary measure that no one needs,” because in general “the Ukrainian question and Ukraine are not so much a real fact as an invention of the Ukrainian intelligentsia.”[23] He was not alone among Marxists: Rosa Luxemburg asserted that Ukrainian nationalism was a “ridiculous pose,” “a mere whim, a folly of a few dozen petty-bourgeois intellectuals.”[24] Believing that “Ukraine is to Russia what Ireland is to England,” that it was a colony and that its oppressed people should obtain independence, Lenin was an exception, but he said so publicly only once.[25]

In addition to the Rakovsky government’s policy on the national question, there was an ultra-left policy on the agrarian question, which, unlike the Bolshevik decree on land, was not aimed at the parceling out of land holdings for the benefit of the peasants, but at the transformation of these properties into collective farms. State requisitions of grain and “war communism” in general added fuel to the fire. All this led to a strong tide of anti-Bolshevik peasant uprisings in 1919 (there were 660, large and small), which cut Ukraine off from Hungary and prevented the Ukrainian Red Army from coming to the aid of the Hungarian Republic of Councils, when this was the latter’s only hope of survival. In Ukraine itself, these uprisings defeated totally the policy of “war communism.” The Bolshevik authorities managed to collect only less than 9 percent of the grain that they planned to transport to Russia to feed the starving cities. Moreover, the insurgent wave paved the way for the offensive of General Anton Denikin’s White Guard troops on Moscow.[26] It is true that Rakovsky himself quickly drew serious conclusions from his government’s disastrous policies, but he did so only after its collapse.

Pro-independence Communists

In much of the Dnieper and south-east regions of Ukraine, the struggle against the occupation by the Russian White Guard rested on the shoulders of guerrilla and insurgent movements, led by the Communist-Borotbists, who were the strongest underground party, and by the anarcho-communists under the leadership of Nestor Makhno. After the defeat of Denikin, the Red Army, for the third time in a row, guaranteed power in Ukraine to the Bolsheviks. It was only then, in February 1920, that they decided to abandon their doctrinaire approach to the agrarian question and distribute the land to the peasants. The Borotbists were overwhelmingly in the majority among the Ukrainian Communists, and even more numerous than all the Bolsheviks then active in Ukraine, including those sent from Russia. But the Bolsheviks, much stronger with their regular army, accepted them only as very minority partners in the ruling coalition and also strongly tied their hands to limit their political independence as much as possible.

Lenin was very afraid that once the civil war and foreign intervention were over, there would be an armed uprising of the Borotbists against the Bolsheviks if the latter opposed the independence of Soviet Ukraine. He was well aware, too, that in his own party “scratch some Communist and you will find a Great-Russian chauvinist. (…) He is in many of us and we have to fight him.”[27] He demanded of his comrades the “greatest caution regarding nationalist traditions, strictest observance of equality of the Ukrainian language and culture, all officials to be required to study the Ukrainian language, and so on.”[28]

He publicly affirmed: “It is (…) self-evident and generally recognized that only the Ukrainian workers and peasants themselves can and will decide at their All-Ukraine Congress of Soviets whether Ukraine shall amalgamate with Russia” into a single Soviet republic, “or whether it shall remain a separate and independent republic” united by a union (federation) with Russia, and, “in the latter case, what federal ties shall be established between that republic and Russia.” On this question, he declared, “there should be no parting of the ways among Communists.” He did not accept a confederation. “One of the things distinguishing the Borotbists from the Bolsheviks is that they insist upon the unconditional independence of Ukraine. The Bolsheviks will not make this a subject of difference and disunity, they do not regard this as an obstacle to concerted proletarian effort” (emphasis in original). Because the Ukrainian nation was historically a nation oppressed by Russia, Lenin explained, “we Great-Russian Communists must make concessions when there are differences with the Ukrainian Bolshevik and Borotbist Communists and these differences concern the state independence of Ukraine, the forms of its alliance with Russia, and the national question in general.”[29]

“A victory worth a pair of good battles”

However, exactly the opposite happened, with the Borobtbists having to give way to the Bolsheviks in these areas – and this under the threat of “liquidation.” Behind closed doors, Lenin postulated, “for the time being, an independent” Ukraine “in close federation” with Russia and a “temporary bloc with the Borotbists” together “with the concurrent launching of a propaganda campaign for the complete merger” of Ukraine with Russia into a unitary state. He quickly added that “the struggle against the slogan of union as close as possible” with Russia, i.e. for the national independence, is “contrary to the interests of the proletariat,” so that in Ukraine “all politics must systematically and relentlessly aim at the liquidation of the Borotbists in the near future.” He “urge[d] that the Borotbists be accused not of nationalism, but of counter-revolutionary and petty-bourgeois tendencies.”[30]

In exactly the same period the so-called “federalist,” in fact pro-independence, faction of the Ukrainian Bolsheviks had been informing Lenin that in Ukraine his “party has no influence in the countryside, which is purely Ukrainian, and does nothing to attract its poorest elements, but on the other hand it admits into its ranks with open arms Russian petty-bourgeois elements and, still more, more or less Russified Jewish craftspeople. The influence of these petty-bourgeois elements in the party is very pernicious.” This is due, they explained, to the fact that “through the entire policy of the [Bolshevik] Communist Party in Ukraine runs like a red thread an extremely suspicious attitude towards the Ukrainian Communist groups and an orientation towards groups, although not Communist, but not infected of ‘separatism’, although these groups have no real force and are a kind of ‘imaginary values’, like the [non-Ukrainian] Mensheviks and Left Socialist-Revolutionaries.”[31]

The “liquidation” of Borotbists did not take place because, whether for the sake of the cause of the international socialist revolution or simply because they realized that a revolver had been put to their heads, they themselves dissolved their party.[32] As Lenin explained, “instead of an inevitable uprising, (…) all the best elements among the Borotbists have joined our Party under our control and with our consent, while the rest have disappeared from the political scene. This victory is worth a pair of good battles.”[33] Out of 15,000 Borotbists, 4,000 joined in Ukraine the 12,000 Bolsheviks. Less than two years later, after various, especially “anti-separatist”, internal purges, only 118 of them remained in the Bolshevik party. Some for several years occupied prominent state positions in the republic. But the pro-independence Communist currents or milieux of Borotbist origin disappeared very quickly inside the Bolshevik Party.

In the light of Lenin’s well known ideological struggles for the right of peoples to self-determination to the point of separation, and of his real policy in this area, the way in which he actually conceived of this right inherent in his thought remains, if not a mystery, at least something totally unexplored. Nearly all Marxist literature or that presenting itself as such devoted to his interpretation of this right has the exegetical, apologetic, or epigonic character. Marxists have buried their heads in the sand in the face of the historical fact that everywhere in the colonial peripheries of Russia where the power of his party imposed itself, or more precisely where the Red Army asserted it, this right has not been enforced and there was no way to try to enforce it without being accused of being counter-revolutionary.

Contradiction at the heart of the revolution

The revolution in Russia did not destroy Russian imperialism. With capitalism, it overthrew “modern capitalist imperialism” and suppressed the pre-capitalist base (feudal and tributary) of military imperialism. But it did not uproot the conditions for the reproduction of the Russian extra-economic monopoly that constituted it, the extra-economic “monopoly of military power, vast territories, or special facilities for robbing” the other peoples of Russia’s inner and outer peripheries. To the extent that the revolution embraced the periphery and spread there, among the oppressed peoples, in the form of national revolutions, it forced this monopoly to retreat. At the same time, it reproduced it to the extent that it spread from the center to the periphery by means of military conquest. This contradiction, which was at the heart of the Russian Revolution, was inherent in it and impossible to resolve within its own framework. Much now depended on which side of the contradiction would prevail.

Following the collapse of the Russian Empire, Finland, Estonia, Lithuania, Latvia, and Poland successively broke away from it, and following the disastrous defeat suffered in the 1920 war with Poland, Soviet Russia lost part of Ukraine (and Belarus). For the survival of Russian imperialism, it was decisive whether or not Soviet Ukraine would separate. When the Soviet Union took shape as a state body in 1922-1923, the Ukrainian Bolsheviks spoke openly of the fact that while a sharp struggle was waged against Ukrainian “nationalist survivals” among Bolsheviks, especially those of Borotbist origin, “great power prejudices, nourished by breast milk, had become an instinct among very many comrades,” because “in practice no struggle against great power chauvinism was waged in our party.”[34] At the head of those who still demanded the independence of Ukraine and the creation of a union of independent Soviet states, Rakovsky, now a very popular leader among the Ukrainian masses, fiercely opposed Stalin.[35] They lost, but their defeat was incomplete.

The Transformations of Russian Imperialism

The central leadership of the Bolshevik Party, led by Stalin, opposed the aspirations for independence in favor of a linguistic and cultural nationalization of the non-Russian republics. Unexpectedly for its Moscow promoters, Ukrainization turned into an extension of the Ukrainian national revolution, which it revived and remarkably revitalized. It lasted almost 10 years, until 1932. The extermination by hunger (Holodomor) and the crushing of Ukrainization by terror[36] were both constitutive acts of the Stalinist bureaucracy, now separated from the Thermidorian bureaucracy that had ruled until then (and would soon be exterminated by it), and an act of rebirth – this time of Russian military-bureaucratic – imperialism.[37]

The latter was consolidated by the unification of Ukrainian (and Belarusian) lands following the partition of Poland by Hitler and Stalin, and by the annexation of the Baltic states, accomplished in 1939 and confirmed in 1944, during the victorious war against German imperialism. The gigantic plundering of the industrial resources of the Soviet zone of occupied Germany, as well as the domination over the satellite states of Eastern Europe, kept in check by the permanent threat of Soviet military intervention, have sealed this revival of Russian imperialism.[38]

The sudden, totally unexpected fall of the USSR in 1991 revealed the nature of this state, created on the basis of Stalin’s Great Terror. What Ukraine failed to achieve during the collapse of the Russian Empire, it was able to do during the collapse of the Soviet Union. It then managed to break away, like 14 other of the largest non-Russian nations. By declaring its national independence, it dealt a decisive blow to Russian military-bureaucratic imperialism.

Restored on the ruins of the USSR, Russian capitalism remains dependent on the same extra-economic monopoly on which past modes of exploitation depended and, like them, it is distorted by this dependence. The Russian state protects capitalist private property, but at the same time restricts it because this property is subject to state coercion, just as the fusion of the state apparatus with big capitals restricts and distorts competition between them. Thus, under the weight of this monopoly, state oligarchic capitalism and military-oligarchic imperialism have taken shape in Russia.

The imperative of reconquest

However, this monopoly itself has suffered enormous, albeit extremely uneven, degradation. Russia retained its “monopoly of military power” to the extent that, after the collapse of the USSR, it remained the world’s largest nuclear power with a huge army. On the other hand, its “monopoly of the vast territories, or special facilities for robbing” of other peoples has declined profoundly. As Zbigniew Brzezinski observed after the collapse of the USSR, Russia’s borders receded dramatically, “rolled back to where they had been in the Caucasus in the early 1800s, in Central Asia in the mid-1800s, and – much more dramatically and painfully – in the West in approximately 1600, soon after the reign of Ivan the Terrible.” Worst of all, “without Ukraine, Russia ceases to be a Eurasian empire” and while “can still strive for imperial status,” the center of gravity would then be shifted and Russia would be doomed to weakness. Brzezinski was right when he wrote that, “if Moscow regains control over Ukraine, with its 52 million people and major resources as well as its access to the Black Sea, Russia automatically again regains the wherewithal to become a powerful imperial state, spanning Europe and Asia.”[39]

This is why Russian imperialism has embarked on the reconquest of Ukraine, where its very destiny is at stake.

Originally published in Polish in Le Monde diplomatique – Edycja polska no. 2 (174), 2022, and in French in Inprecor no. 695/696, 2022.

Zbigniew Marcin Kowalewski served in 1981 as regional leader of Solidarność and as the national leader of the movement of workers’ councils in Poland. He researches revolutionary and emancipatory movements and studies the Soviet-type bureaucratic regimes. He is assistant editor-in-chief of the Polish edition of Le Monde Diplomatique.

Notes

Titles remain in their original languages.– Eds.

  1. I. Banac (ed. ), The Diary of Georgi Dimitrov, 1933-1945, Yale University Press, New Haven-London 2003, p. 65.
  2. V.I. Lenin, “The Collapse of the Second International,” Collected Works vol. 21, Progress, Moscow 1974, p. 228n.
  3. С.А. Нефедов, “Реформы Ивана III и Ивана IV: османское влияние,” Вопросы истории no. 11, 2002, pp. 30-53.
  4. Р.Г. Скрынников, Царство террора, Наука, Saint Petersburg 1992, p. 512.
  5. Л.В. Милов, Великорусский пахарь и особенности российского исторического процесса, РОССПЭН, Moscow 2001, p. 7.
  6. Ibid., pp. 554-556.
  7. Ibid., p. 556.
  8. Ibid., pp. 481-482, 556.
  9. Ibid., p. 566.
  10. Л.В. Милов, “Особенности исторического процесса в России,” Вестник Российской Академии наук vol. 73 no. 9, 2003, p. 777.
  11. А. Эткинд, Д. Уффельманн, И. Кукулин, “Внутренная колонизация России: Между практикой и воображением,” in: А. Эткинд, Д.  Уффельманн, И.  Кукулин (eds.), Там, внутри.  Практики внутренней колонизации в культурной истории России, Новое литературное обозрение, Moscow 2012, pp. 10, 12.
  12. A. Etkind, Internal Colonization. Russian Imperial Experience, Polity, Cambridge-Malden 2011, p. 26.
  13. Ibid., pp. 61-71; A. Etkind, “How Russia ‘Colonized Itself’. Internal Colonization in Classical Russian Historiography,” International Journal for History, Culture and Modernity vol. 3 No. 2, 2015, pp. 159-172.
  14. Л.В. Милов, op. cit. p. 777.
  15. Ibid., op. cit. p. 777.
  16. В.В. Алексеев, “Протоиндустриализация на Урале,” in: Экономическая история России XVIIXX вв.: Динамика и институционально-социокультурная среда, УрО РАН Ekaterinburg 2008, pp. 63-94.
  17. L. Trotsky, History of the Russian Revolution, Haymarket, Chicago 2008, p. 641.
  18. М. Воейков, “Великая реформа и судьбы капитализма в России (к 150-летию отмены крепостного права),” Вопросы экономики n° 4, 2011, pp. 135, 123, 136.
  19. V.I. Lenin, “Socialism and War (The Attitude of the R.S.D.L.P. Towards the War),” and idem, “Imperialism, the Highest Stage Of Capitalism. A Popular Outline,” Collected Works vol. 21, pp. 306, 259.
  20. V.I. Lenin, “Imperialism and the Split of Socialism,” Collected Works vol. 23, p. 116.
  21. Cf. Z.M. Kowalewski, “Impérialisme russe,” Inprecor no. 609/610, 2014, pp. 7-9.
  22. Г. Сафаров, Колониальная революция (Опыт Туркестана), Госиздат, Moscow 1921, p. 72. This fundamental work for the development of anti-colonial thought, forbidden and condemned to eternal oblivion by Stalin, was only re-released in 1996 in Kazakhstan. Internationally, it remains almost completely unknown to this day.
  23. П. Христюк, Замітки і матеріали до історії української революції 1917-1920, рр. vol. IV, Український соціологічний інститут, s.l. 1922, p. 173.
  24. R. Luxemburg, The Russian Revolution and Leninism or Marxism?, The University of Michigan Press, Ann Arbor 1961, p. 54.
  25. Quoted after П. Кравчук, “Під проводом благородних ідей (6),” Життя і Слово (Toronto) No. 26 (183), 1969, p. 18. The text of this speech was lost and is known only from the press reports of the time. See R. Serbyn, “Lenin and the Ukrainian Question in 1914. Le discours ‘séparatiste’ de Zurich,” Pluriel-débat no. 25, 1981, pp. 83-84.
  26. Cf. Z.M. Kowalewski, “For the Independence of Soviet Ukraine,” in M. Vogt-Downey (ed.), The USSR 1987-1991: Marxist Perspectives, Humanities Press, New Jersey 1993, pp. 235-255.
  27. V.I. Lenin, “Eight Congress of the R.C.P.(b). Speech Closing the Debate on the Party Programme,” Collected Works vol. 29, p. 194-195. Translation verified with the Russian original and corrected (see В.И. Ленин, Полное собрание сочинений vol. 38, Политиздат, Moscú 1969, p. 183-184).
  28. R. Pipes, David Brandenberger (eds.), Unknown Lenin. From the Secret Archive, Yale University Press, New Haven-London 1996, p. 76.
  29. V.I. Lenin, “Letter to the Workers and Peasants of the Ukraine Apropos of the Victories over Denikin,” Collected Works vol. 30, pp. 292, 294, 296.
  30. R. Pipes, David Brandenberger (eds.), op. cit., p. 76; В.И. Ленин, “Проект резолюции об украинской партии боротьбистов” and “Замечания к резолюции исполнительного комитета Коммунистического Интернационала по вопросу о боротьбистах,” Полное собрание сочинений vol. 40, Политиздат, Moscow 1974, pp. 122, 152.
  31. “Лист представників української комуністичної організації при Московському комітеті РКП(б) до ЦК РКП(б) та особисто Леніна з аналізом та оцінкою політики Комуністичної партії в Україні у 1919 р.,” in: Г. Єфіменко, Взаємовідносини Кремля та радянської України: економічний аспект (1917-1919 рр.), Інституту історії України НАН України, Kiev 2008, pp. 191-192.
  32. The circumstances and course of the self-dissolution of the Ukrainian Communist Party (borotbists) were examined by Д. В. Стаценко, “Самоліквідація осередків Української комуністичної партії (боротьбистів) у 1920-му році (на прикладі Полтавщини),” Iсторична пам’ять. Науковий збірник vol. 29, 2013, pp. 58-70.
  33. V.I. Lenin, “Ninth Congress of the R.C.P.(b). Reply to the Discussion on the Report of the Central Committee,” Collected Works vol. 30, p. 471. Translation verified with the Russian original and corrected (see В.И. Ленин, Полное собрание сочинений vol. 40, Политиздат, Moscú 1974, p. 266).
  34. These are the words of Mykola Skrypnyk, one of the main leaders of the Ukrainian Bolsheviks. Двенадцатый съезд РКП(б). 17-25 апреля 1923 года. Стенографический отчёт, Политиздат, Moscow 1968, pp. 571-572.
  35. Г. Чернявский, М. Станчев, М. Тортика (Лобанова), Жизненный путь Христиана Раковского. 1873-1941. Европеизм и большевизм: неоконченная дуэль, Центрполиграф, Moscow 2014, pp. 165-191.
  36. The most accurate analysis of this event was provided by A. Graziosi, “The Soviet 1931-1933 Famines and the Ukrainian Holodomor: Is a New Interpretation Possible, and What Would Its Consequences Be?,” Harvard Ukrainian Studies vol. 27 no. 1/4, 2004/2005, pp. 97-115.
  37. Cf. Z.M. Kowalewski, “Ouvriers et bureaucrates. Comment les rapports d’exploitation se sont formés et ont fonctionné dans le bloc soviétique,” Inprecor no. 685/686, 2021, p. 35-61.
  38. Cf. D. Logan [J. van Heijenoort], “The Eruption of Bureaucratic Imperialism,” The New International vol. XII no. 3 (105), 1946, pp. 74-77.
  39. Z. Brzezinski, The Grand Chessboard. American Primacy and Its Geostrategic Imperatives, Basic Books, New York 1997, pp. 88, 46.

 

 

Explaining Sri Lanka’s Economic Crisis

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Sri Lanka is part of a line of exceptional cases of sovereign default over the past several decades. Like Argentina in 2001 and Greece in the aftermath of the 2008 global financial crisis, the country is experiencing tremendous political upheaval as it deals with the consequences of a balance of payments crisis. In Sri Lanka’s case, this has made it difficult to repay its external debt denominated in dollars. But Sri Lanka’s crisis is also singular in the extent to which it reflects the issues of a contemporary global order on the verge of breakdown. As many commentators have pointed out, external shocks, from the Covid-19 pandemic to the war in Ukraine, have created unprecedented pressures on Sri Lanka as well as other countries in different parts of the global South. These shocks exposed Sri Lanka’s internal vulnerabilities. The latter are both structural, in terms of the country’s overwhelming dependence on the external sector, and political, because of the profound failure of the government led by President Gotabaya Rajapaksa.

A real solution now depends on proper diagnosis of the causes. That means not only recognizing the scale of the economic depression, but also accepting far-reaching, progressive changes to the relationship between state and society that are required to pull the country out of the abyss. Meanwhile, Sri Lanka’s economic collapse has given rise to a protest movement of a massive scale, as people across the island have come out onto the streets to demand Rajapaksa’s resignation. Around the world, people are receiving news about the political fallout in the country, nearly two months since protestors converged on Rajapaksa’s house in Mirihana, a suburb of the commercial capital of Colombo, on March 31st. The call for Rajapaksa to resign remains the central demand of the protest movement. Still, there is debate over the structural causes of the crisis. This conversation has been challenging because of the unwillingness of elites and the country’s economic establishment to grapple with the consequences of the breakdown of the market. The problem has been further compounded by the intervention of hegemonic external actors, which most recently include the United States, India, and Japan.

These countries may be considering the possibility that Sri Lanka can become a laboratory for experiments to manage the effects of the global economic downturn on countries in the global South. Toward this end, they endorsed the appointment of Ranil Wickremesinghe to the post of Prime Minister after Rajapaksa’s brother, Mahinda, vacated it on May 9th. Such political maneuvering is a worrying sign of the continued inability of the ruling class in Sri Lanka to accept the need for wealth redistribution and collective mobilization. Wickremesinghe was Prime Minister in the past, and he currently represents a party with only one seat in parliament, after its drubbing in the last elections held in 2020. A wide section of Sri Lanka’s elites has accepted the Faustian bargain of deflecting protestors’ demand for Rajapaksa to resign in the interests of “economic stability.” This decision is ostensibly for the purpose of negotiating an agreement with the International Monetary Fund (IMF). Combined with implicit and explicit repression, the protest movement demanding Rajapaksa’s resignation faces herculean challenges.

Even more is at stake now, given that food shortages and potential famine-type conditions are fast approaching. Only far-reaching mobilization of the polity will be enough to stave off disaster. Because of the dizzying speed at which political developments are occurring, however, it is useful to start by approaching the questions raised by Sri Lanka’s economic collapse from a longer macroeconomic perspective. The country’s economic establishment has put forward several major explanations for the crisis. The two most prominent are that Rajapaksa’s government engaged in money printing, or loose monetary policy, and that it pursued misguided tax cuts in 2019 when it came into power. Money printing supposedly caused inflation, while tax cuts undermined the country’s revenue base, which paved the way for global ratings agencies to downgrade Sri Lanka’s external debt.

The downgrading led to Sri Lanka getting locked out of international capital markets. With the onset of the Covid-19 pandemic in 2020 and the collapse in tourism revenues, it became impossible for Sri Lanka to roll over its significant external debt. The two arguments proposed by the economic establishment converge on the idea that ultimately the domestic budget deficit is responsible for the crisis. According to this narrative, Sri Lanka must follow an IMF program with strict conditionalities, which are being negotiated, to recover from collapse. If we are to push back against this solution that could make a terrible collapse even worse, and grapple instead with the real cause of the crisis—Sri Lanka’s overwhelming dependency on the external sector, as reflected in the current account deficit —we must deconstruct the dominant explanations.

 

The Impact of Rising Prices

Throughout the uneven recovery from the Covid-19 pandemic, many heterodox economists around the world have noted that inflation is an abstract and imprecise measure to capture what has been happening in terms of rising prices. In the case of Sri Lanka, as elsewhere, we must specify the causes. Looking at food prices, for example, we see that the phenomenon must be explained on its own terms. Sri Lanka imported about $1.6 billion of food, or about 8% of its import bill, in 2021. Food prices increased by roughly 45% in April year over year. Meanwhile, the UN Food and Agriculture Organization’s (FAO) Food Price Index indicates that global food prices increased by 30% from March 2021 to 2022. The food crisis is far more acute in Sri Lanka because the market has already broken down. Local factors compound rising prices, such as hoarding.

If rice mill owners, for example, expect prices to increase, they may refuse to sell, increasing scarcity and shortages. The government last year attempted to curtail the hoarding of rice by imposing price controls. But it lacked the political will to be able to enforce these measures on the mill owners, and it soon rescinded them. Moreover, the government failed to address domestic supply constraints, such as low investment in food production. Instead, debt moratoriums for big businesses and loose monetary policy only encouraged further speculation because these measures were not implemented as part of a concerted effort to spend in critical areas of the economy, especially food production. The government’s mismanagement of the crisis, however, does not mean that money printing itself caused rising prices, although as an isolated policy, it clearly failed to ameliorate them.

Another example of such rising prices is fuel. The price per barrel rose from about $25 shortly after the global Covid-19 pandemic was announced in March 2020, to over $100 in the aftermath of the Russian invasion of Ukraine. Sri Lanka, as a country dependent on oil imports for its energy needs, was severely impacted by this increase. But its vulnerable position was also shaped by elite patterns of consumption, in which luxury high-rise development and private vehicle ownership has taken precedence over, for example, investment in the public transportation system.

 

Proposed Solutions and Their Effects

The government of Gotabaya Rajapaksa made the economic situation more intolerable by banning chemical fertilizers overnight, in April 2021. It originally claimed its goal was to achieve organic agriculture. But the real purpose was conserving precious foreign exchange. This policy undermined Sri Lanka’s self-sufficiency in food production, as opposed to creating a viable path for transforming the country’s agriculture. It threw the food system into crisis, precisely when domestic food production became a critical need. The government further struggled to contain the balance of payments deficit, which widened to $8 billion as imports increased by $20 billion, compared to $12 billion for exports in 2021, despite its rhetoric about import substitution.

The country also experienced the dramatic collapse of tourism revenue with the onset of the Covid-19 pandemic, which went from about $3.5 billion in 2019, to less than $1 billion in 2020. Migrant workers’ remittances also declined from about six billion dollars in 2020 to about five billion in 2021, as external pressures made it more difficult to attract dollars. The result of these challenges is that the current account deficit widened from roughly 1.5% of GDP in 2020 to 4% in 2021. Sri Lanka’s GDP is roughly $80 billion. Before going into hard default on May 18th, the country was expected to service about $7 billion in external loans this year alone. Rising debt servicing costs are further exacerbated by interest rate hikes by the US Federal Reserve. The worsening current account deficit and the depletion of Sri Lanka’s foreign exchange reserves has made it impossible to import essential goods.

In the current volatile political moment, the President appointed a new Central Bank Governor in April, after the previous one, Ajith Nivard Cabraal, was forced to quit in disgrace. The Central Bank soon thereafter chose to raise interest rates, from about 6% to 14%. What such rate increases do in an economic crisis is put more pressure on small businesses and other borrowers. But all these efforts have stemmed from the belief that the problem was the previous Central Bank policy of money printing, as opposed to the actual cause, which was rising prices induced by external pressures. The Central Bank itself has recently acknowledged this cause and it may reconsider further rate increases. But in the meantime, such uncertainty will only exacerbate pressure in people’s lives.

 

The Decline of Redistributive Taxation and the Shift to External Debt Financing

Furthermore, the economic establishment has relied on the argument that the Rajapaksa government’s tax cuts in 2019 undermined the proportion of revenue to expenditure, which led to the widening of the budget deficit. It is true that taxes are already low as a proportion of Sri Lanka’s GDP, constituting 9%. Expenditure has been roughly 20% of GDP. But as political economists such as Mick Moore and Ronald Herring have long pointed out, the budget deficit in fact started widening to a far greater degree with the onset of economic liberalization in the late 1970s. Sri Lanka became a poster child for liberalization in the wider South Asian region by becoming one of the first countries to adopt neoliberal policies in 1978 under JR Jayewardene. The framework included slashing import tariffs, cutting the food subsidy, floating the exchange rate, and generally pursuing trade and financial liberalization. As a result of tax concessions—which, supposedly, were incentives to attract foreign investors to, for example, Export Processing Zones—the country’s revenue base was hollowed out.

Initially, the deficit was not as much of an issue because Sri Lanka could obtain foreign aid and concessional financing. But in the absence of a redistributive tax system to fund public services, non-concessional loans, which included not only bilateral funding but also significant borrowing on financial markets, became a much larger proportion of external debt. The country issued its first sovereign bond, for example, in 2007. Fast forwarding to today, we can see that sovereign bonds in fact constitute roughly 40% of external debt, which in total is about 60% of GDP. Despite claims about the “Chinese debt trap” promoted in international media, the reality is that debt owed to China constitutes around 10% of external debt. Sri Lanka’s financial crisis is the outcome of a history of liberalization policies that have now been exposed by the breakdown of the country’s economy.

For the economic establishment, however, rhetoric about the domestic budget deficit has offered an opportunity to push for compliance with potentially stringent IMF conditionalities. If an agreement is ratified, it is likely to hinge on hiking interest rates, raising indirect and direct taxes, slashing the public sector, and implementing “cost recovery energy pricing,” or increasing energy prices, to make loss-making State-Owned Enterprises, such as public utilities, profitable. Raising taxes on income and corporations, of course, as opposed to indirect taxes on essential goods, is necessary in the long run. But when incomes are falling across the board in an economic crisis, as Ahilan Kadirgamar has consistently pointed out in the case of Sri Lanka, there must be a wealth tax on property and assets instead.

Additionally, the economic establishment has proposed cash transfers to the poor and vulnerable. But such transfers will not be effective if both large sections of the population are becoming immiserated—as witnessed by the increasing participation of the middle class in protests—and the price of essential goods is skyrocketing. Instead, as the Feminist Collective for Economic Justice has emphasized, the public distribution system must be revived. But to do so, the rural infrastructure that, despite political rhetoric, has largely been ignored—including the Paddy Marketing Board, Cooperative Wholesale Establishment, and the Lanka Sathosa chain of subsidized retail outlets—requires massive and immediate investment. Those efforts hinge on financing through domestic borrowing in rupees, to prioritize the needs of marginalized communities in the rural and urban periphery.

 

The Urgent Need for Self-Sufficiency

Typically, these issues have been downplayed. Underlying the IMF’s proposals, and the Sri Lankan elite’s shared interest in them, is the goal of further liberalizing trade, despite the widening current account deficit. This contradiction has become the crux of the matter. To confront the problem, we must distinguish rhetoric around the budget deficit from the current account deficit, which implies the critical need to prioritize imports. Such efforts, however, will require far-reaching democratic mobilization to change Sri Lanka’s economy in the direction of self-sufficiency, with an egalitarian emphasis on transforming social relations. The Rajapaksa government ignored this project. Instead, it focused on consolidating its own power through authoritarian methods and divisive Sinhala Buddhist nationalist politics during the time period between when it came to power in 2019 and the current economic collapse.

While the causes for the government’s failure were its own, however, Sri Lanka is also representative of bigger challenges on a global level. As the UN Conference on Trade and Development noted in an update to its annual report this year, the ratio of external debt to GDP in developing countries rose from 57% in 2020 to 70% in 2021. Similarly, the ratio of external debt to exports has increased from 176% to 252%. Calling for further trade liberalization, then, will not do countries like Sri Lanka any good. Instead, the need of the hour is to re-embed food security in the paradigm of self-sufficiency so that people can be insulated from external shocks. With the ongoing deterioration of the global environment, Sri Lanka’s economic collapse could be a forerunner of trends across other parts of the global South.

To resolve these issues, progressives abroad should support efforts to actively prioritize a solution that puts the needs of people in places such as Sri Lanka first. Solidarity from abroad must grapple with the fact that even ongoing global campaigns to cancel odious debt and reform the global debt architecture work on a medium to longer term timeline. In the short term, and in the most urgent sense, solidarity with working people’s protests in Sri Lanka means pushing back against imperial intervention by powerful actors that may attempt to rescue a highly unequal, decaying neoliberal system, even while they try to frame the crisis in terms of intensifying geopolitical competition between hegemonic powers in the region. Now, more than ever, we must democratize the global order by heeding the demands put forth by movements on the ground in places like Sri Lanka, where people are experiencing the severest effects of the crisis.

 

This article is a revised and expanded version of a talk given for the webinar “What’s Happening in Sri Lanka?” co-sponsored by Internationalism from Below and Haymarket Books.

 

Political Dimensions of the Crisis in Sri Lanka

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Let me start with a childhood memory. My father was Tamil, my mother was Burgher – that’s what they call people with European ancestry in Sri Lanka – and we were living in a predominantly Sinhalese neighborhood just outside Colombo. One day in May 1958 our Sinhalese neighbor Menike, who was like a member of our family, came over in great distress, insisting that we leave our home at once and go somewhere safe because a bloodthirsty mob was heading our way. At around the same time my mother’s former student Yasmine, who had become a family friend, also Sinhalese, came over in a car, offering to shelter us at her parents’ place. My mother had been for a walk so my parents knew that Tamils were being attacked, but at that point they refused to leave. They packed off my brother and me and our Tamil grandmother in a taxi with another Sinhalese neighbor to stay with our burgher grandmother, and started making Molotov cocktails to defend themselves and their home. By this time Menike was frantic and threatened to commit suicide unless they left. They finally agreed, and yet another Sinhalese neighbor drove them in his car to Yasmine’s parents’ place.

Thirty years later, when I was doing research on Sri Lankan refugees and internally displaced people, I came across numerous similar stories in which Tamils had been saved by Sinhalese friends, neighbors, colleagues, or even total strangers. To me these stories encapsulate the divided soul of Sri Lanka: hatred and violence on one side, love and compassion on the other, racism on one side, anti-racism on the other, brutal authoritarianism on one side, a stubborn pursuit of democracy and human rights on the other.

The divisions were already present at Independence in 1948, when J.R. Jayawardene, leader of the United National Party or UNP, and S.W.R.D. Bandaranaike, who later became leader of the Sri Lanka Freedom Party or SLFP, agreed on one thing: depriving around a million Tamils of more recent Indian origin, most of whom were plantation workers in the central Hill Country, of their franchise and citizenship. The exercise was carried out in a patently discriminatory manner by demanding that these poverty-stricken and super-exploited workers provide documentary proof of Sri Lankan ancestry, which the vast majority of Sinhalese citizens would not have been able to provide. During the parliamentary debates on these bills, the left parties – the larger Trotskyist Lanka Sama Samaja Party or LSSP and the smaller Communist Party of Ceylon (now the Communist Party of Sri Lanka or CPSL) – argued vehemently against them, denouncing them as racist, anti-democratic, and an attack on workers’ rights. The strength of the left and the labor movement in this early period can be gauged from the success of the “hartal” or nationwide general strike they launched in 1953, when the UNP government tried to abolish the highly-subsidized rice ration on the advice of the World Bank.

In 1956, Bandaranaike and his SLFP came to power on the promise of making Sinhala the only official language. The Official Language or Sinhala Only Act, as it came to be called, discriminated against Tamil-speaking people in government employment, and peaceful protests were launched against it. On this occasion too, the main left parties opposed the bill, although a breakaway section of the LSSP supported it. In 1957, responding to the protests, Bandaranaike signed the Bandaranaike-Chelvanayakam Pact, recognizing Tamil as the language of a national minor­ity and of administration in the Northern and Eastern Provinces. But a year later, in response to militant agitation by right-wing Buddhist monks, he renounced the Pact, leading to a campaign by Tamils in Jaffna blacking out the Sinhala letter sri, which had been substituted for English letters on their license plates. This was what sparked the 1958 anti-Tamil riots in Colombo and elsewhere. As the violence threatened to rage out of control, Bandaranaike handed over authority to the Governor General, who declared an Emergency and clamped down on the mobs. Angry with Bandaranaike for not going far enough, an extreme right-wing Buddhist monk organization, the Eksath Bhikkhu Peramuna, assassinated him in 1959. His widow, Sirimavo Bandaranaike, became leader of the SLFP, which was elected to power in 1960. In 1964 she negotiated an agreement with Indian Prime Minister Shastri to deport over half a million Tamil plantation workers to India.

In 1964, the LSSP and CP entered into an alliance with the SLFP, and in 1968 formed a United Front with it which came to power in 1970. I feel this was an unmitigated disaster. The left disintegrated as principled members of the parties broke away and then split again, and the LSSP was expelled from the Fourth International. There were no major anti-Tamil pogroms under Mrs. Bandaranaike, but discrimination continued. In 1970 the United Front government introduced a university entrance system that discriminated against Tamils, creating a group of frustrated and embittered Tamil youths. Paradoxically, in 1971 there was an anti-government uprising led by the Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna or JVP, which combined Sinhala nationalism with an authoritarian brand of socialism and drew its membership and support precisely from those sections of the population who should have benefited from Sinhala Only. The uprising was crushed with at least 5,000 people killed. The depth of their dissatisfaction should have alerted the government to the fact that anti-Tamil discrimination was not solving the problems of unemployment and poverty among the Sinhalese, but the anti-Tamil policies continued. In the name of nationalizing the plantations, plantation land was distributed to Sinhalese government supporters under the Land Reform Laws of 1972 and 1975. Tamil plantation workers and their families were assaulted and driven out, their dwellings looted and burned; some were killed, and others were left to starve.

In 1972, a Republican Constitution was enacted. Ironically, the same Colvin R. de Silva of the LSSP who had in 1958 warned that Sinhala Only would result in “two torn little bleeding states,” now presided over the drafting of a constitution which entrenched Sinhala as the sole official language, provided a special status to Buddhism, and omitted the protection of minority rights. The 1972 constitution also omitted the second chamber of Parliament, the independent Public Service Commission to guarantee impartiality in public service appointments and the Judicial Service Commission, which was intended to guarantee the independence and integrity of the judiciary. Judicial review of legisla­tion was also prohibited. Thus, in addition to further depriving minorities of their rights, the 1972 constitu­tion centralized power in a manner that could be used against the Sinhalese majority.

After the UNP headed by J.R. Jayawardene won the elections in 1977, he enacted a new constitution in 1978, further centralizing almost unlimited power in the hands of the Executive President – himself. Freedom of expression and other democratic rights were crushed. He set up the Jathika Sevaka Sangamaya or JSS, supposedly a union but more like a government-controlled paramilitary force. JSS gangs were used to intimidate and kill opposition supporters and judges who gave verdicts against UNP criminals. They were used repeatedly against workers and trade unions to break strikes, assault and kill trade unionists, and get members of existing unions dismissed. It was obvious that the JSS had protection from the very top because the police never acted against them, whereas around 80,000 public employees who opposed them and went on strike lost their jobs.

Starting just a month after the UNP took office, the JSS was used to assault and kill Tamils, loot and burn their shops and homes, and drive them out of the areas where they lived. In 1979, the Prevention of Terrorism Act and provisions of the Public Security Act were used as a cover for the torture, disappearance, and killing of thousands of Tamils by the state. Then in May 1981, violence broke out in Jaffna, and the targets of widespread arson attacks included the Jaffna Public Library, with its 95,000 volumes and priceless manuscripts. This was followed by island-wide pogroms against Tamils, which were only over-shadowed by the even more gruesome massacres of 1983, which left thousands of Tamils dead and turned a simmering conflict into a civil war between the Sinhalese state and Tamil nationalist militias fighting for a separate Tamil state. The most ruthless and powerful of these, the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam or LTTE, became dominant by slaughtering its rivals. Tamil socialists were demoralized. Some drifted into Tamil nationalist parties and militant groups, while others were killed or driven into exile by the LTTE.

The fighting in the North and East halted temporarily after Jayawardene signed an accord with Indian Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi in July 1987 granting Tamil the status of an official language and providing for limited devolution of power to the provinces. Fighting shifted to the rest of the country as the JVP launched its second insurrection. Many of its former members who disagreed with its chauvinism and authoritarianism had left, and those who remained were hardliners whose response to anyone who opposed them inside or outside the organization was invariably violent. The state, controlled by the UNP, responded with indiscriminate slaughter of Sinhalese youth. This is what resulted in the grue­some atrocities and massive death toll (estimated at 40,000-60,000) during the second JVP insurgency, which ended in November 1989. On the pretext of fighting the JVP, government death squads killed unarmed critics, political rivals, and even dissidents within the UNP, and this repression went on after the JVP was defeated. In 1990, fighting between the state and the LTTE broke out again. Ranil Wickremasinghe, the current leader of the UNP, was a senior member of the government throughout this period, and therefore shares responsibility for the mass murder of both Sinhalese and Tamils, most of them unarmed civilians.

What we see here is the trajectory that has led to the political crisis in 2022. On one side, working people have been divided and weakened again and again, on the other side power has been centralized more and more, allowing the Executive President leeway to appoint cronies to key posts and destroy the economy. The struggle over the Constitution is crucial from this point of view, and it has had a roller-coaster ride, partly because courts have held that changing crucial elements of it like abolishing the Executive Presidency itself requires a two-thirds majority in parliament as well as a simple majority in a referendum. When Chandrika Kumaratunga was elected president in 1994 on the promise of ending the war and abolishing the Executive Presidency, democratic rights were mostly restored in the parts of the country under government control. But the LTTE sabotaged her efforts to end the war by assassinating two Tamil politicians engaged in crafting a constitution that would devolve significant authority to the North and East and trying to assassinate her too. Nor did she succeed in abolishing the Executive Presidency. But the 17th Amendment to the constitution was passed, taking away the power of the president to unilaterally appoint people to institutions that ought to be independent, like the Election Commission and the Supreme Court.

In 2005, Kumaratunga was succeeded as president by Mahinda Rajapaksa, who was then in the SLFP. Human rights violations against Tamils, which had declined under Kumaratunga, increased sharply. In the South, freedom of expression came under severe attack, and death squads targeting critics of the government resurfaced. Among the many victims, perhaps the most famous are Lasantha Wickrematunge and Prageeth Ekneligoda. Gotabaya Rajapaksa, who was Defense Secretary at that time, not only controlled the armed forces and multiple intelligence agencies, but also higher education and urban development. As the war moved towards its terrible end in 2009, the UN estimated that around 40,000 civilians were killed, partly because the LTTE used them as human shields but also because the Defense Secretary directed government forces to bomb and shell civilian targets, including hospitals and safe zones.

The presidential election of January 2010 in which Mahinda Rajapaksa came back to power was marked by massive irregularities. He used state resources to support his own campaign and vilify his opponent, assault and kill journalists who failed to fall in line, attack opposition rallies, and rig the vote so blatantly that the election commissioner admitted he was unable to guarantee the safety of even a single ballot box. His coalition won the subsequent parliamentary elections, and one of his first priorities was to pass the 18th Amendment that reversed the reforms introduced by the 17th Amendment, allowing him to appoint his family members and cronies to key ministries and all supposedly independent institutions. It also abolished the two-term limit on the presidency. With the LTTE defeated, a new enemy was found to rally the Sinhalese masses behind the Rajapaksas: Muslims. State-sponsored far-right Buddhist monk groups sprang up, driving Muslims from their homes and businesses with arson and murder.

When the presidential election of 2015 was announced, with Mahinda Rajapaksa standing again, it should be obvious why voters from ethnic minorities would oppose him and vote for the United National Front for Good Governance or Yahapalanaya alliance between an SLFP rebel, Maithripala Sirisena, and Ranil Wickremesinghe of the UNP. But minorities alone would not have been able to defeat Rajapaksa. It was widespread disgust among a substantial section of Sinhalese voters with the scandalous nepotism and corruption of the Rajapaksas that tipped the balance against them, along with courageous campaigning and monitoring of the election by democracy activists. Leaders of the LSSP, CPSL and Democratic Left Front or DLF continued to support the Rajapaksas, expelling members who disagreed with that policy. They remain in the same position to this day, and therefore share responsibility for the current catastrophe.

Why did these self-professed left leaders betray socialist principles in this way? There seem to be three reasons. One is their belief that nationalization as such is a socialist measure, regardless of the character of the state that is carrying it out. For example, nationalization of the plantations by a Sinhala supremacist state had a devastating impact on Tamil plantation workers, but they didn’t care, despite having fought for the rights of plantation workers in an earlier incarnation. The second reason is their disdain for democracy, which they see as connected to capitalism and the bourgeoisie, whereas I see it as the product of struggles by working people and an essential precondition for a socialist movement. Finally, there is their support for any party that is friendly with the regime in China and rejects what is seen as “the West,” including proposals for any investigation into war crimes by the UN Human Rights Council. They are not alone in taking such positions: a section of the global left takes similar positions in support of brutal authoritarian and even imperialist regimes so long as they are seen as opposed to the West.

Sirisena was elected president in January. Wickremasinghe was appointed as temporary PM, and after the parliamentary elections in August, he became the PM in the new government. There were some improvements. The Executive Presidency was not abolished, but the 19th Amendment severely curtailed the powers of the president. The revival of freedom of expression allowed long-suppressed grievances to be voiced in public without fear of reprisal, and the Right to Information Act introduced transparency in governance. Some of the land occupied by the army was returned to its Tamil owners, and there was an attempt to protect Muslims from mob violence. Investigations into the crimes of the previous regime also began. But problems soon surfaced. Wickremasinghe’s neoliberal policies were unpopular, and a bond scam in which his protégé was involved sullied the image of the government. He was also accused of holding back on prosecuting major crimes by Gotabaya Rajapaksa and his son despite adequate evidence being available – accusations that gained new credibility recently when Gotabaya chose him as the new Prime Minister despite the fact that Wickremasinghe lost his seat in the general elections and the UNP got a pathetic 249,435 votes out of over 16 million. On the other side, Sirisena too started drifting back to the Rajapaksa camp, now headed by their new party, the Sri Lanka Podujana Peramuna or SLPP, and acting as their agent. The final blow to the Yahapalanaya government was the Easter Sunday bombings of 2019, which killed over 250 people and allowed Gotabaya to campaign in the presidential election on a plank of “national security.” Yet it emerged soon afterwards that the mastermind of the terror attacks Mohamed Zahran and his associates, who had pledged support to Daesh, were being protected and bankrolled by the Rajapaksas themselves through their contacts in the deep state, while Sirisena and Wickremasinghe looked the other way!

Given this dreadful morass, the 2022 crisis is as much political as economic. For me, the greatest cause for optimism is the participation in political activism of women and young people in large numbers as well as the emerging unity between people of all communities. The sight of Sinhalese and Tamil people celebrating New Year together and joining with Muslims in ifthar parties when they break their fast is heart-warming, but this new friendship could easily melt away. Activists need to spread the message that tolerating the oppression of some members of society leads to divisions that make it easy to attack the rights of all. It won’t be easy, but it’s not impossible. As I mentioned earlier, I came across numerous stories of life-saving solidarity during the war. I also came across prejudice, especially among Sinhalese displaced people, but it’s important to set this in the context of profound ignorance resulting from the language divide created by Sinhala Only, the silencing of dissident voices, and relentless disinformation in the Sinhala media.

When I was conducting a workshop for garment workers, all of whom were young Sinhalese women, a workshop for young Tamil women displaced from the North by the war was going on in the same conference center, and during mealtimes the Sinhalese women went over to talk to the Tamil women, finding bilingual interpreters to help them to communicate. There was curiosity as well as sympathy for women suffering a different form of oppression from what they themselves suffered. And when I interviewed Sinhalese women whose family members had been killed in the JVP counter-insurgency – an episode that gets far too little attention both in Sri Lanka and internationally – one of the sentiments they expressed was, “If the army can do this to us, what must they have been doing to Tamils?” The shared trauma between all three communities of displacement, disappearances, and mass killings can be one source of solidarity, provided that it is communicated effectively.

But on the other side of the equation, tackling the huge concentration of power in the hands of a brutal dictator without allowing the situation to descend into violence and chaos is more challenging. The Bar Association of Sri Lanka or BASL has proposed a roadmap that includes, among other things, the creation of an interim government which introduces the 21st Amendment repealing the 20th Amendment and plugging the loopholes of the 19th; abolishes the Executive Presidency within 15 months; dissolves parliament within 18 months; and acts as a caretaker government for a further 6 weeks in order to hold fresh parliamentary elections.

The first step – appointing an interim government that will carry out this agenda – is in some ways the most critical. It will require sustained pressure from the democracy movement and possibly an indefinite strike until it is accomplished. But it also needs MPs to lead the effort in parliament. Who could these be? The Samagi Jana Balavegaya, led by Sajith Premadasa, is by far the largest opposition party and has apparently agreed to the BASL proposals. The Tamil National Alliance is the next largest, and has played a progressive role in parliament. It should be part of an interim government along with other minority parties which have opposed the Rajapaksas, but they will have to resist being bamboozled or coerced into joining a government appointed by Gotabaya. The JVP is the third largest and has played a progressive role in the struggle for democracy, but its leader, Anura Kumara Dissanayake, will have to understand that forming an alliance with the SJB is necessary in order to move forward. The opposition parties need to enter into urgent negotiations on how to proceed, taking the advice of advocates of economic and social justice as well as democracy and human rights activists.

As for the SLPP and parties which have been allied to it, including the SLFP and the Tamil, Muslim and Left parties, they are jointly responsible for the current catastrophe. In a longer-term sense, so are Ranil Wickremasinghe and the UNP. They all belong in the dustbin of history.

Guide to Sri Lankan Parties and Organizations

Party or Organization Name Abbr. Key Leaders Years in power Political orientation
United National Party UNP D.S.Senanayake, Dudley Senanayake, John Kotalawala, J.R. Jayawardene, Ranasinghe Premadasa, Ranil Wickremesinghe 1948-1956, 1960, 1965-1970, 1977-1994, 2001-2005 (as PM with an SLFP president), 2015-2019 (as PM with an SLFP president) Centre-right economically and politically, neoliberal and extremely authoritarian after J.R. Jayawardene took over in 1977. Has used Sinhala nationalism to gain and retain power.
Sri Lankan Freedom Party SLFP S.W.R.D. Bandaranaike; widow Sirimavo Bandaranaike after husband’s assassination 1959; Chandrika Kumaratunga (1994-2005); Mahinda Rajapaksa. Maithripala Sirisena was rebel from party 1956-1960, 1970-1977, 1994-2001 as both PM and President, 2001-2005 as President with a UNP PM, 2005-2015, 2015-2019 Sirisena was president with Wickremesinghe as PM Sinhala nationalist except under Chandrika Kumaratunga’s leadership, in favor of nationalization of banks etc. and a welfare state. Extremely authoritarian after Mahinda Rajapaksa took over in 2005, ended the civil war with great brutality in 2009.
Lanka Sama Samaja Party LSSP Leslie Goonawardene N.M. Perera, Colvin R. de Silva, Philip Gunawardena, Robert Gunawardena. Currently Tissa Vitharana. Part of United Front 1970-1977. Joined the People’s Alliance government led by Chandrika Kumaratunga 1994-2000. Trotskyist member of the Fourth International until expelled for alliance with SLFP; originally the largest left party but has splintered; supported the Rajapaksas.
Communist Party of Sri Lanka (formerly Communist Party of Ceylon) CPSL S.A Wickramasinghe, D.E.W. Gunasekara. Currently G. Weerasinghe. part of United Front 1970-1977. Joined the People’s Alliance government led by Chandrika Kumaratunga in 1994. Orthodox pro-Moscow party; supported the Rajapaksas.
Eksath Bhikkhu Peramuna EBP Organization of rightwing Buddhist monks who first helped to bring S.W.R.D. Bandaranaike to power in 1956 and then assassinated him in 1959.
Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna JVP Rohana Wijeweera until he was executed in November 1989. Currently Anura Kumara Dissanayake Briefly in power as part of the United People’s Freedom Alliance with the SLFP from 2004 to 2005. Combined Sinhala nationalism with an authoritarian brand of socialism; anti-govt uprising 1971; second uprising 1987-89; has renounced violence, entered parliamentary politics, and supports equal rights for minorities in a united Sri Lanka; today potentially part of pro-democracy forces
Jathika Sevaka Sangamaya JSS UNP-linked ‘trade union,’ was used as a paramilitary force by Jayawardene.
Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam LTTE V. Prabhakaran Started in 1976; one of several Tamil nationalist militias but became the dominant one by liquidating rival groups. Tamil nationalist, extremely authoritarian, and brutal, tortured and killed Tamils who disagreed with Prabhakaran.
United National Front for Good Governance or Yahapalanaya alliance SLFP and UNP Maithripala Sirisena and Ranil Wickremesinghe 2015-2019 In 2018 Sirisena tried to replace Wickremesinghe with Mahinda Rajapaksa as his prime minister, but parliament and the courts objected; Wickremesinghe was reinstated but the alliance fell apart.
Democratic Left Front DLF Vasudeva Nanayakkara Nanayakkara was earlier in the LSSP; supported the Rajapaksas.
Sri Lanka Podujana Peramuna SLPP Gotabaya Rajapaksa and Mahinda Rajapaksa 2019- The SLPP broke off from the SLFP; essentially consists of members loyal to the Rajapaksas. Gotabaya is president and Mahinda was PM but has been replaced by Ranil Wickremesinghe.
Samagi Jana Balavegaya SJB Sajith Premadasa SJB split off from the UNP in 2019 alleging lack of democracy; rejects neoliberalism. The largest opposition party; has apparently agreed to BASL proposals to abolish the Executive Presidency; today potentially part of pro-democracy forces.
Tamil National Alliance TNA R. Sampanthan, M.A. Sumanthiran An alliance of Tamil parties based in the North and East; demand abolition of the Executive Presidency and more devolution of power to the provinces; today potentially part of pro-democracy forces.
Bar Association of Sri Lanka BASL Association of senior lawyers in Sri Lanka. Has put forward a proposal to abolish the Executive Presidency in accordance with the constitution and the law.

 

ROHINI HENSMAN is a writer, independent scholar and activist who has written on workers’ rights, feminism, minority rights and globalization. She is the author of Journey Without a Destination: Is there a solution for Sri Lankan refugees? and Indefensible: Democracy, Counterrevolution, and the Rhetoric of Anti-Imperialism.

On Contradiction: Mao’s Party-Substitutionist Revolution in Theory and Practice. Part 1

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“The Reddest Reddest Red Sun in Our Heart, Chairman Mao”
(Women xinzhong zuihong zuihongde hong taiyang Mao zhuxi he women xin lianxin)

This is the first part of a four-part article. The other parts can be found here:

Part 2
Part 3
Part 4


Socialist revolution in the third world countries depends on the existence or nonexistence in the population of a sizable element capable of playing the role assigned to the proletariat in classical Marxian theory—an element with essentially proletarian attitudes and values even though it may not be the product of a specifically proletarian experience. The history of the last few decades suggests that the most likely way for such a “substitute proletariat” to arise is through prolonged revolutionary warfare involving masses of people. Here men and women of various classes and strata are brought together under conditions contrasting sharply with their normal ways of life. They learn the value, indeed the necessity for survival, of discipline, organization, solidarity, cooperation, struggle. Culturally, politically, and even technologically they are raised to a new and higher level. They are, in a word, molded into a revolutionary force which has enormous significance not only for the overthrow of the old system but also for the building of the new.

— Paul Sweezy and Charles Bettelheim[1]

The great actions of the hero … are the expression of his motive power, lofty and cleansing, relying on no precedent. His force is like that of a powerful wind arising from a deep gorge, like the irresistible sexual drive for one’s lover, a force that will not stop, that cannot be stopped. All obstacles dissolve before him.”

— Mao Zedong, 1918[2]

The east is red, the sun is rising
China has brought forth Mao Zedong.
He seeks the people’s welfare.
He is the people’s great savior.”

— “The East is Red” lyrics [3]

As U.S.-China rivalry has intensified in recent years many Western Leftists have been confused and divided over how to respond. To date, discussion has mostly centered on whether China is still socialist or has become just another capitalist imperialist superpower in its own right. On the one hand, Maoists like the editors of Monthly Review and the Qiao Collective[4] ardently defend the former view and insist that the Left should support China against U.S. imperialism.[5] On the other, many around New Politics, Tempest, Spectre, Solidarity, and the Fourth International argue that China is capitalist or state capitalist, but either way this rivalry is just inter-imperialist competition and the left should, like Lenin vis-a-vis WWI, side with neither Beijing nor Washington. Looming behind the issue of imperialism is the question of the nature of Mao’s revolution and the social system his party installed. After all, if the left doesn’t have a clear understanding of the nature of the Chinese political economy, how can it take a position on China vis-a-vis the U.S.? Yet as Kevin Lin, Brian Hioe, and Dan La Botz have pointed out, the Maoist and neo-Maoist “anti-imperialist” Left[6] is perversely resistant to examining or even discussing China. Lin writes that “I’ve continually encountered a refusal to seriously discuss China…. Whenever I’ve tried to initiate these discussions, there are people who try to shut it down because they would say they don’t want to criticize China for fear of giving ammunition to the right wing in the U.S…. So that does make it difficult to advance the discussion on China and the U.S.-China rivalry within the U.S. left if the largest political group [the DSA] simply refuses to engage on this question.”[7] Political, theoretical and historical ignorance, though much in vogue these days on the right, is hardly the best basis for the left to develop a robust Marxist socialist position on China. The following essay aims to open up this discussion by interrogating the socialist credentials of the Chinese Communist Party through a re-examination of Maoist theory, the historical rise of Mao Zedong in the 1930s and 40s, and the system he installed in 1949.

 

I. THE CHINESE ENIGMA

How is the left to understand China today? How did a communist party that was once overwhelmingly comprised of proletarians (60% workers in 1926) and in the mid-1920s led the largest workers’ and peasants’ revolt in history, end up installing a Stalinist totalitarian police state?

Who would have imagined in 1949 that Mao Zedong, who based his entire revolution on the peasantry, would nine years later impose a stunningly brutal forced collectivization that worked and starved to death more than 30 million of the very peasants who powered his party to victory in 1949?

Who would have imagined that Deng Xiaoping — dedicated communist from the age of 17, proletarian pipe-fitter at Le Creusot Iron and Steel Plant near Paris, France in the 1920s, revolutionary veteran of the Long March, political commissar of the Red Army whose victory vanquished imperialism, landlordism, and capitalism in China — would as his penultimate testament, invite Western capitalists to exploit China’s police-state-enforced union-free, OSHA-free, EPA-free ultra-cheap labor, and then follow this up with his final testament, the massacre of hundreds if not thousands of students protesting in Tiananmen Square against the corruption that his marriage of capitalism and Stalinism wrought in China?

Or again, who would have imagined that Xi Jinping, son of Xi Zhongxun, political commissar and founder of the Shaanxi-Gansu Soviet base Area (Mao’s home base in the 1930s-40s) who was renowned for his moderate policies and use of non-military means to pacify Tibetans and Xinjiang Uyghurs, then lauded again in 1979 when as governor of Guangdong province he initiated economic liberalization, opening up Shenzhen, the first of China’s Special Economic Zones that powered China’s industrial rise, would reject his father’s easy-going approach to install militarized terror and torture police states in Tibet and Xinjiang, turn the whole country into an Orwellian surveillance state to monitor its 1.4 billion citizens 24/7 to control every moment of their waking lives, crush another student-led democracy movement in Hong Kong and suppress the private sector, expropriating and locking up many of the same Chinese capitalists who led China’s economic miracle?

But there you have it. Such contradictions have bedeviled western China scholars and Maoist leftists since the first days of the revolution. In 2018, after a visit to Xinjiang where he observed first-hand how the combination of crude Maoist concentration camp brainwashing (on which see below part VII) and Xiist digital totalitarianism are deployed to crush the Uyghurs and erase their culture, leftist University of Sydney professor David Brophy wrote in Jacobin magazine, “How did a revolutionary state, which came to power promising to end all forms of national discrimination, end up resorting to such horrific policies?”[8] Good question.

 

II. THE MAOIST MYTH OF CHINESE SOCIALISM

My approach rejects the orthodox theoretical framework and historical narrative that has shaped discourse about the nature of the Chinese revolution since the 1970s and is taken for granted by Maoist politicos and most China scholars regardless of their attitudes to Mao and the communists — namely that Mao’s revolution installed a socialism of sorts, and Deng Xiaoping “overthrew socialism and restored capitalism” such that China is more or less capitalist today. In Maoist theory there is no necessary connection between the proletariat and socialism and therefore no need for institutions of working class democratic self-rule so long as the “substitute proletariat,” the Communist Party, upholds the “correct line” — “proletarian politics.” Thus despite the fact that the working class played no role in Mao’s revolution or in the post-revolutionary dispensation, China was nevertheless socialist under Mao, they claim, because his revolution abolished capitalism and private property, nationalized the economy, replaced the market with central planning, liberated women, introduced the “iron rice bowl” job guarantees, cradle-to-grave state-provided social services including free medical care, free schooling, childcare and other welfare benefits. By contrast, Deng Xiaoping and his successors abandoned Mao’s “correct line,” re-introduced the market, broke the “iron rice bowl” job guarantees, privatized housing, medical care, schooling beyond middle school; invited foreign capitalists to exploit Chinese workers and promoted the development of domestic capitalists.

As a Marxist, this Maoist just-so story never made sense to me. In my experience the ideological framework of Maoism has posed an insuperable barrier to understanding the nature of the Chinese revolution and the regime it installed. First, it fails to grasp the theoretical originality and non-Marxist character of Mao’s party-substitutionist “new class” revolution. Second, Maoist theory has no capacity to explain the historical contradictions of the system Mao installed because if China was socialist then its horrors must be explained as aberrations, inexplicable in relation to Mao’s Thought. Thirdly belief in this theory has obliged Maoist China scholars and ideologues to defend (or ignore) indefensible, even criminal practices by the Chinese regime that are blindingly contrary to any common-sense definition of socialism. Fourthly, Maoist theory equally fails to explain why, if Deng Xiaoping and his market reformer successors were “restoring capitalism,” have they systematically subverted their own market reforms precisely to prevent the wholesale restoration of capitalism?[9] In short, the Maoist theoretical framework is not just useless, it’s led scholars and left ideologues to produce empirically untenable analyses, write shelves full of nonsensical books, and proffer morally indefensible apologetics for China that, like an earlier generation of Western apologists for Stalin’s crimes, have only further discredited the very idea of socialism.

How did Maoism come to dominate Western discourse and China studies despite its manifest contradictions and inadequacies? At least four reasons come to mind. Start with the fact that Marxism never had deep roots in China. Marxism was an import. China’s commercial and industrial proletariat in the early 20th century was miniscule, though learning fast, and China had no tradition of Social Democracy or revolutionary socialist politics. Early 20th century radicals were more attracted to anarchism than Marxism because Marx’ focus on the industrial working class seemed irrelevant in the Chinese context. Indeed, the founders of the Communist Party in 1921 were inspired by the Bolshevik revolution but most had little if any knowledge of Marxism when they founded the Party. They converted to communism before they had read Marx and most never became Marxists at all. They became Stalinists and Maoists or were driven out of the Party in the late 1920s and 30s.

Secondly, China’s totalitarian police state has been far more effective in completely crushing dissent and erasing virtually all historical memory of non-Maoist currents, the Tiananmen uprisings, the Charter ’08 movement, and so on, than Soviet and East European Stalinist rulers. Mao and his henchmen like Kang Sheng murdered hundreds of Chinese Trotskyists during the 1930s and 40s, and in 1952 locked up the last thousand or so of them for decades, extinguishing the last active alternative socialist political pole of attraction beyond Maoism. There was never space in China for dissidents, samizdat, or a Marxist underground such as the Workers Defense Committee KOR that developed in Poland from 1976 to promote worker self-organization and politicize their movement which ultimately gave rise to the Solidarnósc trade union in 1981.[10] China’s own would-be Marxist theoreticians, socialist labor organizers, and socialist revolutionaries such as 1970s-era Trotskyists and democracy activists Chen Erjin, Wang Xizhe, Wei Jingsheng, Tiananmen and Charter ‘08 democracy advocates including Liu Xiaobo, have all been ruthlessly crushed, murdered, locked away in prisons or labor camps for decades, driven into exile, and forgotten in China.[11] Today, Xi Jinping talks up Marxism all the time. But when Beijing University students took him seriously and initiated study groups to read Marx, they were arrested and disappeared.[12] As a result, since the 1940s all legitimate political discourse in China has been constrained within the Maoist framework.

Thirdly, there has been nothing in China studies to compare with the debate around the “new class” theories of Russia and the East European Stalinist regimes advanced by Bruno Rizzi, Milovan Djilas, Michael Voslensky, Maria Hirszowicz, Max Schachtman, Hal Draper, and others.[13] Since the 1970s, Marxist mode of production theory has been fruitfully developed to explain the transition (or failed transitions) from pre-capitalist to capitalist societies and to explain the ongoing dynamics of contemporary capitalist economies. But in western China studies, Maoism still rules.

Fourthly, and closely related to the last point, as Fabio Lanza recently recounts in his history of the Bulletin of Concerned Asian Scholars, the left wing of U.S. China studies was founded by a cohort of young anti-war, Cultural Revolution-infatuated graduate students and young professors in the 1960s and 70s who idealized China and Vietnam in response to U.S. imperialism in Southeast Asia.[14] I would add that they were liberal anti-imperialists, not Marxists. They learned their “Marxism” from Mao who learned his mostly from Stalin. They learned Chinese but could not visit China until after Mao and Nixon broke the ice in 1972. And when they did go in the seventies, as “friends of China” with pre-arranged itineraries and minders to keep them from speaking with ordinary citizens, most bought the Cultural Revolution Potemkin village scenes of “equality,” “mass line politics,” and so on without reservation. As Orville Schell recalls in Lanza’s book, “We were in love with China.” Some didn’t buy it. But most did because they were romantic third worldists who worshiped the Red Sun. As Maoist professors, they have misled generations of students with a delusional ahistorical fabulist vision of China.[15]

The net result of the foregoing is that, aside from important Trotskyist interpretations by Livio Maitan and Au-Loong Yu, and state capitalist expositions by Ygael Gluckstein and Nigel Harris, there are no other “new class” theorizations of China either in China or the West.[16] This essay and the book it’s drawn from aim to partially fill that gap by presenting a bureaucratic collectivist theorization of Mao’s party-substitutionist revolution, the system he installed, and the contradictions and historical tendencies of that system.

My argument in brief

This essay will explain why the contradictions and atrocities noted above cannot be understood as aberrations from socialism but are instead built into, rational, and indispensable to ruling class reproduction in China’s system. Mao’s revolution was the world’s first successful communist party-led peasant-based national liberation revolution and his example and writings provided the model and theory for the entire wave of third world revolutions from the end of WWII through the 1970s. But the strategy of socialism from above, led by self-styled omniscient “savior dictators” like Mao, was doomed from the start in China and everywhere else. Pace Paul Sweezy, for all their years of guerilla-war “plain living and hard struggle” nowhere did a single substitute proletariat install any kind of workers’ government, any kind of socialist government, or even any kind of democracy. In every case they installed “new class” societies of one kind or another, some worse than others. In Yugoslavia, China, North Korea, Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia they installed Stalinist bureaucratic-collectivist class societies modeled on Stalin’s USSR. In Algeria, Mozambique, Angola, Zimbabwe, and Guinea Bissau they installed one-party (or even one-man) dictatorships and capitalist or state-capitalist regimes. In Cuba, although Fidel Castro, Che Guevara and their comrades weren’t fully Stalinists to begin with, after the imposition of the US blockade they turned to the USSR for support and soon adopted all the trappings of a one-party Stalinist state.

In China, the prototypical case, I will explain how over the course of Mao’s revolution, the petty bourgeois intelligentsia substitute proletariat developed its own “new-class” interests which were nationalist, bureaucratic, autocratic, anti-democratic, and anti-socialist. While Mao’s strategy of a communist party-led peasant revolution succeeded in overthrowing the old order, his vision of top-down socialism was doomed to fail because the overriding priority of the new national chauvinist ruling class was to “catch up and overtake the West” by means of forced-march self-industrialization, and this could only be financed by decades of coercive surplus extraction from China’s workers and peasants which in turn could only be enforced by a dictatorship that crushed worker struggles for trade unions and all struggles for democracy.

Thus my response to Professor Brophy’s question is that when Mao’s revolution is understood for what it really was — a revolution of, by and for the Stalinist “new-class” party-army-bureaucracy that seized power and installed a totalitarian police state and bureaucratic collectivist economy, then the apparent contradictions of the system vanish.

Let’s start with what socialism is not:

Nationalized property isn’t necessarily socialist. It all depends on who owns the state. In China from Mao to now, society owns and controls exactly nothing. All land and natural resources are owned by the state. Under Mao the economy was entirely owned and run by the state and the state was and is the exclusive property of the collective party-bureaucratic ruling class, a dictatorship beholden to no one. Since Deng’s market reforms, private capitalists have been reintroduced but they exist only at the pleasure of the CCP, as Xi Jinping has recently reminded them.

Economic planning isn’t necessarily socialist. It all depends. Planning by whom, for whom? In Mao’s China, as in Stalin’s Russia, the economy was planned from the top down by the party-bureaucracy for the interests of the party-bureaucracy while China’s workers, peasants, intellectuals and everyone else were shut out of decision-making about politics, the economy and everything else in China. Since Deng’s “market reform and opening,” central planning has been reduced but by no means abolished. State central planning still overwhelmingly rules China’s economy.

“Iron rice bowl” job guarantees weren’t necessarily socialist either. Under Mao, workers had the “right” to a state job not because China was socialist but because Mao sought to maximize economic growth by maximizing labor inputs so he needed all hands on deck. In fact they had no right not to work. Similarly, the Party liberated women to join the workforce but never helped them secure equality with men. Under Mao, the state provided industrial workers with jobs, housing, schooling, medical care, and modest retirement benefits because without a market there was no other way for people to access such services. But while the state dispensed those services, the workers lived their entire lives in conditions of unfreedom.

Nationalization, economic planning, job guarantees, state-provided schooling and healthcare would all be important components of a socialist economy and society but those are hardly sufficient. The key factor is missing: workers’ democracy, mass popular democracy. Without democracy there can be no socialism (and without socialism there can be no real democracy).

Conversely, Deng Xiaoping did not ditch socialism since there was no socialism to ditch. He threw open the economy to Western investment creating Special Economic Zones to exploit Chinese labor, broke up the rural communes to let peasants farm on their own account, broke the industrial workers’ iron rice bowl job guarantees, privatized schools, medical care, social services, and housing to discipline labor and open it up to deeper exploitation. But he never fully restored capitalism, never restored private property, never privatized significant state-owned industries. Instead, he and his successors introduced measured capitalism to rescue the CCP when Europe’s communists were collapsing, but contained it “as a bird in a cage” as a useful adjunct to the planned economy.[17]

 

III. THE SOCIALISM OF SAVIOR-DICTATORS

I contend that Mao Zedong was first and foremost an ethno-nationalist in the tradition of the “self-strengtheners” of 19th and early 20th century China. From Sun Yat-sen to Mao, Deng and Xi Jinping, China’s leaders have all been obsessed with one overarching goal: to overcome China’s “century of humiliation,” achieve “wealth and power,” “catch up with and overtake the US” in order to reclaim what they have imagined is China’s deserved pride of place as the premier civilization and culture of world history because, in Sun Yat’sen’s words, Chinese “are the finest and most intelligent people in the world,” thus the natural leader of humankind and, in Xi Jinping’s words, the rightful successor to “the declining West.”[18]

Yet Mao wasn’t just a Han nationalist like Sun Yat-sen. He was also a socialist. But he was not a Marxist. Aside from its versatile vocabulary, he had little use for Marxism with its focus on the industrial proletariat. Mao was, rather, a latter-day pre-Marxian utopian “socialism-from-above” kind of socialist. Mao’s socialism drew not from the working class, democratic, self-emancipation “socialism from below” ideas of Marx and Engels exemplified by the Paris Commune and the Russian Soviets, but from the pre-Marxian “socialism-from-above” ideas of the 18th and 19th century utopian socialists, anarchists, and agrarian populists.[19]

This was the socialism of self-appointed elites, self-styled “smart guys” convinced that they alone possessed the “correct ideas”: the necessary vision and strategy to create and run a socialist society, thus they should rule as beneficent dictators dispensing socialism to the benighted masses. Such would-be savior-dictators included the Babouvistes who wanted to set up a temporary albeit well-intentioned “educational dictatorship” over and above the people, abolish private property, and construct a society of “absolute economic equality.” And Joseph Proudhon who imagined himself a beneficent “manager-in-chief” ruling a society where trade unions, universal suffrage, constitutions and the like, were all banned (“All this democracy disgusts me” he said). And the fraudulent “anti-authoritarian” Mikhail Bakunin for whom the realm of “absolute freedom” was to be found in absolute conformity to Bakunin’s own “invisible dictatorship” — virtually the model for Mao’s own ultra-authoritarian “anti-bureaucratic” “Cultural Revolution.”[20] And the Russian agrarian populist Alexander Herzen and the Narodniks who claimed that “the advantages of backwardness” could enable agrarian nations to “skip over historical stages” and that “pure” peasants were harbingers of human redemption, a force that could lead Russia to an idyllic rural socialism bypassing the horrors of Western capitalism. Lenin fiercely criticized Herzen’s idealism and voluntarism but Mao appropriated Herzen’s idealist thesis as the basis for his doctrine of socialist construction by means of mind over matter, “red over expert,” the power of human will, etc. in the Great Leap Forward.[21] Mao was an intellectual descendent of utopian socialists, anarchists, and agrarian populists like these.

How, then, did the Chinese Communist Party, founded with the help of the Bolsheviks, born in the cauldron of workers’ strikes and uprisings in the industrial and commercial cities of Canton (Guangdong) and Shanghai in early 1920s, end up under the leadership of a pre-Marxian utopian socialist? An interesting question, which the rest of this essay will endeavor to explain.

[continued in part 2]

Notes

[1] On The Transition to Socialism (Monthly Review Press, 1971), 52-53.

[2] Maurice Meisner, Mao Zedong (Cambridge: Polity, 2007), 1-9, 12.

[3] The East is Red, c. 1930s.

[4] For the purposes of this paper I group these all under the rubric of “Maoists” because even though some don’t defend Mao or the Cultural Revolution they still maintain that China today is somehow socialist, non-capitalist, or at least more progressive than Western capitalism, and they uphold the Maoist theory of party-substitutionism and look to substitutionist leaders like Mao, Ho Chi-minh, Fidel Castro and so on to lead the socialist revolution instead of socialism from below, workers self-emancipation, and socialist democracy.

[5] Monthly ReviewNew Cold War” issue; Qiao Collective, “Socialism with Chinese characteristics,” undated. Cf. Brian Hioe, “Manichaeism with Chinese characteristics: a look back on the ‘China and the Left’ conference,” New Bloom, September 30, 2021.

[6] This paper is narrowly focused on the Chinese case. But the critique I present here of the theory of party substitutionist-led third world revolutions as summarized by Paul Sweezy in the epigraph above, applies generally to all the Maoist-inspired substutionist revolutions from North Korea and Vietnam to Africa and Latin America. See my “Cuba and the end of third worldism?,” Tempest, August 6, 2021.

[7]China and the U.S. Left,” Spectre, July 17, 2021; Brian Hioe, “The Qiao Collective and left diaspora Chinese nationalism,” New Bloom, June 22, 2020; Dan La Botz, “Internationalism, Anti-Imperialism, and the origins of campism,” New Politics (Winter 2022), 64-74.

[8]China’s Uyghur repression,” Jacobin, May 31, 2018.

[9] On this topic see my “The Chinese road to capitalism,” New Left Review 1/199 (May-June 1993), 55-99; and “Why China isn’t capitalist (despite the pink Ferraris),” Spectre, August 17, 2020.

[10] Jan Jósef Lipski, KOR: A History of the Workers’ Defense Committee in Poland, 1976-1981 (Berkeley: University of California, 1985).

[11] Louisa Lim, The People’s Republic of Amnesia (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014).

[12] Brian Williams, “Chinese government arrests Marxist Society for union organizing,” The Militant, October 29, 2018.

[13] Bruno Rizzi, The Bureaucratization of the World (New York: Free Press, 1939); Milovan Djilas, The New Class (New York: Praeger, 1957); Max Schachtman, The Bureaucratic Revolution (New York: Donald Press, 1962); Michael Voslensky, Nomenklatura: Anatomy of the Soviet Ruling Class (London: Bodley Head, 1984).

[14] Fabio Lanza, The End of Concern (Durham: Duke University Press, 2017), 104; Kin-ming Liu (ed.), My First Trip to China (Hong Kong: Musemag, 2012).

[15] Lanza, Concern, 114-15.

[16] Ygael Gluckstein, Mao’s China (London: Allen and Unwin, 1957); Livio Maitan, Party, Army and Masses in China (London: Verso, 1969); Nigel Harris, The Mandate of Heaven (London: Quartet, 1978); Au Loong Yu, China’s Rise: Strength and Fragility (Pontypool: Merlin, 2012).

[17] “Why China isn’t capitalist,” op cit.

[18] Sun Yat-sen, San Min Chu I: The Three Principles of the People (New York: Putnam, 1922), chapter 1. For a current and comprehensive exposition of this ethno-nationalist thesis see Liu Mingfu, The China Dream (New York: CN Times Books, 2015). Xi Jinping borrowed this moniker for his own signature China Dream project.

[19] On this distinction, see Hal Draper’s Two Souls of Socialism (Berkeley: Bookmarks,1966), pp. 10-16. On anarchist influences on Mao, see Arif Dirlik, Anarchism in the Chinese Revolution (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991), 160-61, 195 and 294-97; and his The Origins of Chinese Communism (New York: Oxford University Press, 1989), 178-70. Also: Robert A. Scalapino, “The evolution of a young revolutionary – Mao Zedong in 1919-1921,” Journal of Asian Studies, Vol. 42, No. 1 (November 1982), 29-61. On populist influences on Mao and his teacher Li Ta-chao, see Maurice Meisner, Li Ta-Chao and the Origins of Chinese Marxism (Cambridge: Harvard, 1967), 262-66.

[20] On Bakunin’s phony anti-authoritarianism, see besides Draper, Aileen Kelly’s reply to David T. Wieck, “Freedom and anarchy,” New York Review of Books, April 1, 1976. On Mao’s phony anti-authoritarian authoritarianism, see my “Mao and self-limiting ‘Cultural Revolution,’” Against the Current, Vol. 1, No. 3 (Spring 1992), richardanthonysmith.org/articles.

[21] On Herzen’s influence on Mao, see Maurice Meisner, Mao Zedong (Cambridge UK: Polity Press 2007), pp. 19-20. Lenin’s critique is to be found in “Democracy and Narodism in China,” July 15, 1912, Collected Works, vol. 18.

 

Planning for Prosperity?

A Livable Future in Simulation and Reality
[PDF][Print]

“People are ecstatic” as delegates from the world’s bioregions gather in Raqqa for 2065’s planning session. Although the social-ecological transition is far from over, celebration is understandable. Smokestacks, prisons, slaughterhouses, and warfare are all relics of the past. Leisure time is abundant, and living standards are universally high. The world’s air is fresher than it’s been in centuries, as is the food which is overwhelmingly local, organic, and, yes, vegan. The planet is cooling and will soon stabilize comfortably within 1 degree Celsius of pre-industrial levels. Biodiversity is flourishing, especially in the roughly three-quarters of habitable land that’s protected as wilderness under Indigenous and local communities’ guidance.

This is the future I achieved in the new digital card game based on Half-Earth Socialism by Troy Vettese and Drew Pendergrass. Like the book–which I’ve reviewed for the upcoming New Politics issue–the game contains a healthy amount of whimsy and humor, with options to increase general happiness through “Champagne socialism” and with anti-vegan extremists forming a “Leather Underground.” When my sixth-grade students caught me playing the game, one described it as “Pokémon for adults.” Although it proved too technical to hold most of these twelve year-olds’ interest for long, one student played it through all the way. (He seemed to take equal delight in endings where the Earth was saved and endings where it was destroyed. Should I be worried?) I could easily see high-school and college instructors including this game in their lessons on climate science.

After all, the game incorporates serious climate modeling designed in large part by the ecologist and engineer Spencer Roberts who I interviewed last fall. Given his convincing critiques of animal agriculture and capitalist greenwashing, I’m not surprised that this game offers little incentive to adopt destructive regenerative-ranching, nuclear-fusion, ocean-fertilization, and cloud brightening technologies. However, I learned during the interview that Roberts is much less of a Luddite than I am. Perhaps that’s why it’s possible to get high scores by adopting techniques I’d oppose in real life, such as vertical farming, carbon-negative concrete, bioengineered-algae fuels, wooden skyscrapers, biochar, and direct air capture.

I wanted to see if it was possible to avoid these risky technologies and still achieve the game’s goals of stabilizing warming below 1 degree, ending biodiversity threats, and maximizing human happiness. Yes, it’s possible, although I haven’t been able to do so before 2080. (I’m not counting those few random times when the game supposes an unrealistically low climate sensitivity. You’ll know this happens when warming goes down to 1 degree or lower in 2025, instead of going up to 1.4 degrees.)

The main obstacles to achieving success decades earlier are political rather than technological. There are a limited number of “political capital” points you can spend on various solutions each round. Increasing the number of points would make the game less challenging but might more closely resemble a revolutionary situation where consciousness has been sufficiently transformed to render once “utopian” objectives feasible. It would definitely enable the player to unlock the crucial “Degrowth in developed areas” and “Global demilitarization” cards much earlier. 

Within the parameters of the game, I couldn’t implement anything as ambitious as the Total Liberation pathway I recently proposed in the Green Theory & Praxis Journal. But I tried my best to enact, as rapidly as the game would allow, a transition to degrowth, veganism, and 100% (locally-controlled, decentralized) wind-and-solar energy. This trajectory quickly won me the strong hostility of the game’s Accelerationists and Consumerists, and a cold reception from the Malthusians. On the other hand, I won the approval of the Animal Liberationists, Ecofeminists, Environmentalists, Fanonists, and Utopians.

Here’s are some highlights of what I was able to accomplish:

  • Abolish nuclear power (by 2025)
  • Restore Indigenous sovereignty (by 2030)
  • Phase out hydroelectricity (by 2040)
  • Achieve net-negative emissions (by 2045)
  • Phase out fossil fuels and bioenergy (by 2050)
  • Global demilitarization (by 2055)
  • Limit warming to 1 degree (by 2075)

The Animal Liberationists were thrilled that society abolished zoos, non-Indigenous hunting, exotic animal trading, and, by 2055, animal agriculture. Although the game seems to require a small amount of cellular meat production in order to eliminate the last vestiges of livestock farming, I don’t see why real-life populations couldn’t turn to lower-tech sources of protein, namely legumes. I’ve previously expressed doubts about the viability of lab-grown meat, especially if it’s going to be produced without fetal bovine serum (procured from slaughter). Indeed, the game’s cellular meat never became a large part of the solution, only producing 5 percent of the meat quantities that humanity consumes today. By the time the technology became available, the world’s animal consumption had already declined by 75 percent and was continuing to decrease even further. The “Vegetarian” and “Vegan” cards proved far more important than the “Cellular meat” card.

In the game as well as reality, it’s a solid principle to make reducing a greater priority than replacing. The “reduce-reuse-recycle” order of priorities is well known, and energy’s (less catchy) corollary is “conservation-efficiency-clean renewables.” Rather than building a fleet of private electric vehicles, my virtual society rapidly decreased the number of cars on the road and banned them outright by 2035. People didn’t seem to mind the ban, since we’d already been expanding walkways, bike paths, and bus routes for over a decade.

A rapid roll-out of green hydrogen, generated from wind- and solar-powered electrolysis, was indispensable for the energy transition in the 2030s. However, because green hydrogen requires a lot of energy to produce, it only served as a real solution in the context of drastically reducing fuel usage for heating and transportation. The “Mass electrification” card was essential, since producing combustion-free electricity is way easier than producing combustion-free fuel. Although next-generation solar panels helped increase the efficiency of renewable energy, they didn’t become available until well after fossil fuels had been phased out of electricity production. 

Since farmers already produce enough food to feed 12 to 14 billion people, eliminating hunger was mainly a matter of redirecting crops to local plates. Still, agroecology has proven remarkably effective at increasing yields, and non-biotech research has been able to produce perennial and drought-resistant crop varieties. As explained in Half-Earth Socialism’s appendix, Vettese and Pendergrass cautiously predict that soil-restoring methods of regenerative agriculture won’t become fully carbon-neutral, let alone carbon-negative. But regenerative farming nonetheless reduced the game’s agricultural emissions to managable levels.

Global warming hit a peak of 1.5 degrees in 2030, and declined to 1.4 within the decade. By 2080, with warming down to 0.9 degrees, only 22 of percent land was being used for infrastructure and agriculture. They don’t seem to include non-subsistence forestry, which I’ve elsewhere estimated would take up about 3 percent in a radical degrowth scenario. Still, that would leave some three quarters of the planet’s habitable land available for protection and rewilding. “This is probably the first time in centuries,” the game announced, “that we can confidently say we’re leaving a better planet for future generations.” According to the final screen, “Me and the Fanonists ushered the world into a prosperous future.”

The word “prosperous” seemed odd, since it typically implies material abundance. According to the game, energy usage in 2080 was slightly more than it was in 2022. By contrast, I envision energy usage rapidly declining worldwide and quite drastically in richer regions. Even though the game assumes money has been abolished (as explained on the back of the “Crack down on crypto-mining” card), the designers strangely chose to make a dollar sign the symbol for living standards. They also retain the language of economic “development,” introduced into policymaking by President Harry Truman. Doing so, and by linking world happiness with material wealth, the game’s designers ignore the strong critique that various Global South movements and intellectuals have launched against the development discourse and its generally implicit assumption that the whole world should conform to the obscene affluence of the North.

Moreso than the game’s designers, I see an urgent need to radically define our understanding of “living standards” (if we hold onto that term at all), abandoning the aspiration for private wealth and instead striving for strong communities, varied experiences, and forms of public affluence such as parks, museums, libraries, cafeterias, and theaters. The dollar sign is practically the antithesis of what we should strive for, and achieving a livable future would be more doable if we replaced the goal of “prosperity” with the South’s alternatives of buen vivir (living well), ubuntu (humanness), and swaraj (self-governance).

When I tried replaying the same steps in the game, I was consistently able to win by 2080, with warming lowering at that date to 0.9 degrees. Because the game includes a chance-based distribution of political-capital points, it wasn’t always possible to implement everything in the exact same order. But if there wasn’t enough points to implement a solution in one round, it usually didn’t make a difference if I waited to implement it in the next round.

Various playthroughs labeled me as all the tendencies I’d expect (Animal Liberationist, Ecofeminist, Environmentalist, Fanonist, Utopian). Although I don’t mind the support of the game’s fictitious political parties, I see any parliamentary focus as a dead end in real life. The state, inherently an elitist institution, brings out the most elitist tendencies of whatever parties take power. It’s invariably the moderate “realos” who win out over the radical “fundis” once real-life Green Parties assume state power. Fanon aptly warned about the colonized population’s national bourgeoisie which, after seizing power in a statist revolution, accepts a neocolonial role and “turns its back on the general population.” As I further argue in my upcoming review of the Half-Earth Socialism book, I can’t share the authors’ enthusiasm for state planning.

In fact, the greenest path would be to dismantle the state as quickly as possible. There’d likely be no need to “Restrict air travel” or “Mandate vegetarianism” (two of the game’s cards) if there weren’t a state that arrested eco-activists who blocked runways, slashed plane tires, rescued animals from farms, and helped Indigenous communities reclaim their territories from cattle ranchers. Without a state enabling capitalists to hoard the world’s wealth, it’s unlikely that there’d be enough desperate workers to keep industrial slaughterhouses in operation.

A prominent eco-Marxist was once trying to convince me of the necessity for a state, and he said something like “I can’t see anarchists running airports.” Though I can imagine an anarchist-run airport just fine (such as the one envisioned in Albert and Hahnel’s Looking Forward), I don’t see why we’d want such a thing. If an anarchist society couldn’t fly airplanes, that’s a good thing! Let’s shut the airports down. Maybe solar-powered aircraft will one day be a viable option. But until then, there’s no reason why people in an anti-capitalist world couldn’t travel slowly, relaxing and enjoying the scenery on buses, trains, and boats. After all, there would be no full-time jobs for which we’d need to urgently return. Ditto to David Harvey’s complaint that anarchists couldn’t run nuclear power stations. A Libcom article shows how anarchists could theoretically run nuclear power plants far more safely and effecitvely than capitalists do, but I honestly wouldn’t mind Harvey being right. If anarchists can’t run nuclear power plants, that’s all the more reason for anti-nuclear advocates like myself to call for anarchy.

When the Earth Liberation Front showed up in the game, I cheered at first. If I were a state planner (heaven forbid!), I would welcome the ELF as a radical flank and an ally in dismantling ecocidal infrastructure. But the game’s version of the ELF only slows down the ecological transition, by lowering “world contentedness” and thus impeding your ability to phase out polluting industries. When the ELF attacks in the game, there’s no corresponding decrease of species extinction or of greenhouse gas emissions. Seeing the ELF portrayed as a hindrance in Marxists’ video game couldn’t help but reinforce my conviction that states and central planning won’t protect the Earth. I thought of real-life examples of self-proclaimed socialists repressing ecologically-oriented movements: Bolsheviks attacking revolutionary peasants during Russia’s civil war, France’s Socialist government sinking Greenpeace’s Rainbow Warrior ship in 1985, Bolivia’s Socialist state cracking down on Guaraní land defenders in 2015, Cuba’s Communist state torturing and extraditing former ELF militant Joseph Dibee in 2018.

To the developers’ credit, they agreed to correct a mistake I pointed out to them. They had falsely attributed a Mexican ecofascistic group’s slogan “misanthropy and wild nature, always” to the ELF. Far from being misanthropic, the real-life ELF advocates “Animal, Human, and Earth Liberation” and supports anarchist and Indigenous struggles against capital. The image may already be corrected by now.

Maybe the game isn’t far off by associating me with followers of Frantz Fanon who saw anti-colonial violence as a psychological antidote to the “passive and despairing attitude” of the colonized. Although he wrote these words in the context of Algeria’s independence struggle, I think his insights can be applied to some extent even throughout the Global North. Capital has so thoroughly colonized everyday life that we tend to see commodification as inevitable and equality as unimaginable. In this context, I have to agree with those anarchists and critical theorists who say there’s a need for (joyful) militancy to break the spell of complacency.

I don’t wish to advocate violence unless it’s necessary (the key word in Fanon’s phrase later popularized by Malcolm X), but I do see a dire need for property destruction, monkeywrenching, house visits, and whatever else it might take to radicalize the population and give the Earth a fighting chance. As I conclude this essay, I’m getting ready to write and send letters to incarcerated eco-strugglers. I’d encourage you to do the same by following the instructions on the Earth First! Journal website. If we’re serious about advocating for an ecological revolution, we need to be willing to support the courageous folks who kickstarted the process.

I look forward to reading what results others receive in the Half-Earth Socialism video game. The game is a fun thought experiment that will get people thinking, dreaming, and envisioning. Here are the steps I took on May 25 that achieved the outcome I’ve been describing.

2022

1.1 degrees, 42.9 Gt, 48% land used, 108 PWh

Production

Electricity: 15 Hydropower, 5 Solar, 80 Wind

Fuel: 40 Biofuels, 20 Natural gas, 40 Petroleum (1 planning cycle to complete, decreases emissions by 6%).

Crops: 55 Industrial, 45 Smallholder

Policies

Utopian curriculum, Universal family planning, Marine protected areas, Factory farm reform, Ecofeminist curriculum, Animal liberationist curriculum

Infrastructure

1 to Compost, Electrify road transport, Energy conservation campaign, Expand public transit, Expand recycling, Indigenous sovereignty, Passive building mandate and retrofit, Pedestrian and bike-friendly city, Remediate and protect ecosystems

Research

2 to Green hydrogen

1 to High-density batteries

2025

1.4 degrees, 35.7 Gt, 54% land used, 112 PWh

Production

55 Industrial, 5 Organic ag, 40 Smallholder farms

Electricity is now 0% nuclear.

Policies

Vegetarian mandate, Feminist science and technology studies, Fanonist curriculum

Infrastructure

1 to Food waste campaign, Regenerative agriculture

Research

Ecosocialist video game

2030

1.5 degrees, 27.1 Gt, 29% land used, 115 PW

Fuel: 25 Biofuel, Green 75 Hydrogen (3 planning cycles to complete)

Crops: 55 Industrial, 10 Organic, 35 Smallholder

Policies

Masculinity de-tox

Infrastructure

1 to Battery storage network, Esperanto, Green roofs, Multistrata agroforestry, Reconcile town and country

Research

1 to Alternative refrigerants, Drought-resistance crops, Electric-arc furnace, Floating wind turbines

2 to High-density batteries, Perennial cereals

3 to Reintroduce apex predators, Cellular meat

6 to Next-gen solar PV

2035

1.5 degrees, 12.2 Gt, 29% land used, 139 PWh

Production

Electricity: 10 Solar, 90 Wind

Fuel: 100 Green Hydrogen

100 Cellular meat (4 planning cycles to take effect)

65 Organic ag, 35 Smallholder farms

Policies

Vegan mandate, Meatless Mondays, Environmentalist curriculum, Ban high-seas fishing, Ban cars, Abolish prisons

Infrastructure

1 to Continental smart grid, Expand nature preserves, Sewage treatment plants

2040

1.4 degrees, 1.4 Gt, 23% land used, 134 PWh

Production

Electricity: 15 Floating wind, 75 Solar, 10 Wind

Crops: 70 Organic, 30 Smallholder

All electricity is now from solar and wind.

Policies

Energy quotas, Ban outdoor cats, Abolish zoos

Infrastructure

1 to Coastal wetland protection and remediation, Mass electrification, Phase out commercial fishing

3 to Food waste campaign

2045

1.4 degrees, -9.8 Gt, 21% land used, 121 PWh

Policies

Degrowth in developed regions, Flexitarian, Restrict air travel, Rien faire comme une bete 

Infrastructure

5 to Global demilitarization

2050

1.4 degrees, -11.1 Gt, 21% land used, 89 PWh

Fuel is now 100% green hydrogen

Crops are 100% non-industrial

Policies

Crack down on crypto-mining, Champagne socialism, Ban non-Indigenous hunting, Ban exotic animal trade

Infrastructure

6 to Global demilitarization

Research

1 to Green container ships, Advances in ecosystem modelling, Long-range electric aviation

2055

1.3 degrees, -13.5 Gt, 21% land used, 106 PWh

Production

Animal protein is 100% from cellular meat.

Infrastructure

2 to Continental smart grid

Research

9 to Green container ships, Long-range electric aircraft

1 to Advances in ecosystem modelling

2060

1.2 degrees, -13.3 Gt,  22% land used, 116 PWh

2065

1.2 degrees, -13.3 Gt, 221% land used, 120 PWh

2070

1.1 degrees, -12.8 Gt, 21% land used, 124 PWh

2075

1 degrees, -14 Gt, 22% land used, 127 PWh

2080

0.9 degree, -14 Gt

The Ukraine War Will End, But How?

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The Russian invasion of Ukraine caught most observers by surprise. I, for one, didn’t think that the Russian government would be so foolish as to invade. If Ukraine resisted, the Russian military could destroy it with nuclear weapons but couldn’t conquer it with the conventional forces they had deployed to its borders. The Russian ruling class needed a deal, not a war. Ukraine in the European Union and out of NATO, like Finland or Sweden, would have suited it very well. The Russian people certainly didn’t want war.

The Russian government must have thought that Ukrainian resistance would collapse as soon as the tanks rolled in and the the bombs began falling. Instead, the Ukrainian military held Kyiv and the other major cities outside the south and launched mobile attacks on stalled Russian columns. The Ukrainian government kept its head, and Volodymyr Zelenskyy emerged as an effective media spokesperson. The Ukrainian people rallied around the government in the north and west. The US and NATO flooded Ukraine with arms and munitions.

The Russian military and government took several weeks to conclude that their blitz had failed and to move on to their plan B, seizing as much as they could of the territory that the Soviet Union had transferred from Russia to Ukraine in 1922, the arc from Kharkiv in the north to Odesa in the south. As of May 15, Russian forces control all of Kherson Oblast, most of Zaporizhzhia and Luhansk Oblasts, two-thirds of Donetsk  Oblast, and part of Kharkiv Oblast. They are making slow progress in a pincer movement to force the Ukrainian troops out of western Donetsk.

Neither the Ukrainian government nor the Russian government is ready to accept a ceasefire yet, since they still hope to make gains on the battlefield. But as the military situation becomes clearer, so do the lines along which Ukraine is likely to be partitioned after the fighting ends. Revolutionary socialists, however much we might wish another outcome, should consider the one coming into being.

If the Russian forces drive the Ukrainian army out of western Donetsk, as seems likely, the war will have reached a decision point. Having seized a corridor from Donbas to Crimea, the Russian government could either propose a ceasefire or continue fighting to take Kharkiv, Zaporizhzhia, Odesa, and the rest of the historically Russian parts of Ukraine. Having lost the corridor, the Ukrainian government could either propose a ceasefire or continue fighting to retake it.

Revolutionary socialists will have no say in the matter, of course, but we will have opinions. Mine is that a ceasefire would be better for Ukraine, Russia, Europe, and the world than prolonging the war. A ceasefire would not be just. Apart from Crimea and eastern Donbas, the populations of the contested areas would not have been consulted as to their wishes. The partition would have been militarily imposed on Ukraine. But prolonging the war would increase the destruction without breaking the impasse.

Hubris, heroism and the course of the war

The first days of the war were marked by hubris on the Russian side and heroism on the Ukrainian side. By the numbers, Russia was far more powerful. The Russian government made the mistake of thinking it could simply have its way. A common mistake among imperial powers. Since World War II the US military has lost wars it arrogantly expected to win in Korea, Vietnam, Afghanistan and Iraq.

The Ukrainian military and government did well, but most of the credit goes to the Ukrainian people. Popular enthusiasm bolstered the morale of the troops. The government, having limited military and logistical capacity, distributed weapons and invited popular initiative. Workers took up arms and organized rescues, repairs, distribution of food and medicine, and more. The image of the Ukrainian people defending their country has been inspiring.

The image is not the whole story, however. Capitalist restoration left Ukraine impoverished, dominated by oligarchs, vastly unequal, and riddled with corruption. Ukrainian and Russian nationalists provoked conflicts between the Ukrainian majority, concentrated in the north and west, and the Russian minority, concentrated in the south and east. The conflict escalated into civil war in 2014, with fighting all across the arc now being contested.

The war in the north went badly for the invaders. They had come with too few troops to take Ukrainian cities in street-by-street fighting or to hold the countryside against guerrilla warfare. Russian artillery, bombs and missiles did great damage, but in the end the Russian military had to withdraw from the north and regroup for its plan B, the partition of Ukraine.

The war in the the south went better for the Russian forces. They moved north from Crimea, supported by their control of the Black Sea and air superiority. The population was more friendly. They took the cities of Kherson, Melitopol and Mariupol, but were stopped at Mykolaiv, on the way to Odesa. The battle of Mariupol was particularly bitter. The far-right Azov Battalion, in charge of the city’s defense, decided to fight to the death, rather than retreat when the military situation became hopeless.

The main fighting shifted to Donbas in the east, where separatists, supported by Russian troops, already held about a third of Luhansk and Donetsk Oblasts from the 2014 war. Since the invasion Russian forces have taken nearly all of Luhansk and all but a third of Donetsk. They are slowly closing a pincer from the north and south to envelop the Ukrainian troops in western Donetsk and force them to withdraw.

The battle of western Donetsk will likely conclude soon. Either side could collapse, but more likely they will fight to a standstill somewhere between the current front line and Donetsk’s western border. At that point, the Ukrainian and Russian governments would have a choice: propose a ceasefire, or escalate the war to try to break the impasse. Escalation is not a foregone conclusion, since Ukraine and Russia both have good reason to seek a ceasefire.

Just or not, war is hell

The war has been a disaster for Ukraine. The true numbers won’t be known until after the fighting ends, but some 10,000 soldiers and a similar number of civilians have been killed. Seven million have been internally displaced. Six million have fled the country. Many, having gained entry to the EU, will not return. Ukraine’s gross domestic product is expected to be halved this year. The Russian blockade has cut Ukraine off from the Black Sea, and the fighting has destroyed its capacity to export.

Russian bombs and missiles have targeted Ukrainian airfields, train depots, warehouses, bridges and other infrastructure, but not on the scale that military experts had expected. If the war continues, Russia will presumably intensify its efforts to stop the movement of weapons and munitions across Ukraine. The Russian government may be tempted to escalate the destruction, as the US and Britain did during World War II with the bombing of Dresden and other German cities, and the US did with the fire-bombing Tokyo and the nuclear bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

The war has been a disaster for Russia too. Its troop losses are similar to Ukraine’s. It has used or lost vast quantities of arms, munitions and supplies. Replacing them will require diverting production from civilian purposes. Russia’s GDP is expected to fall 10 percent this year, as a result of sanctions and the economic war the US government has initiated against it. The war has cut Russia off from the rest of Europe and motivated some of those abroad not to return.

The war has been a disaster for the rest of the world. In immediate terms, the cutoff of Ukrainian exports by the fighting and the reduction of Russian exports by sanctions has pushed up the prices of oil, gas, food, and other primary products. This has intensified general inflation, as the world economy, having not yet recovered from the Covid-19 pandemic, is about to plunge into the next recession. In the advanced capitalist countries, workers are suffering, and political tensions are rising. In poor countries millions face starvation.

US imperialism is using the Ukraine war to try to weaken Russia, threaten China, control its allies, and restore its global hegemony. Outsourcing fighting to Israel, Saudi Arabia, the Kurds, and now Ukraine is far cheaper than sending US forces. But the announcement by the Biden administration that it is sending troops back to Somalia shows that it feels emboldened to act directly, if it can’t find adequate proxies.

The US government is increasing its military spending and pressuring Germany, Japan, and the other advanced capitalist countries to increase theirs. It is also pressuring them to stop buying oil and gas from Russia, which would require more extraction in the US, Saudi Arabia, and other big producers, as well as reviving nuclear power and coal. The military and energy industries love it, but it’s the death knell for progress on poverty, inequality, or climate change.

How should socialists respond?

The Ukraine war is a convergence of three wars: 1) Ukraine defending itself against the Russian invasion, 2) the inter-imperialist cold war between the US-led bloc of the established powers and the Russia-China bloc challenging them, and 3) the civil war between the Ukrainian government and Russian separatists.

In the Ukraine war so far, the first aspect has dominated. Revolutionary socialists in all countries should support Ukraine against the Russian invasion, since Russia is an imperialist power attacking Ukraine, which is capitalist but not imperialist.

The best outcome would have been a Russian defeat leading to a ruling-class crisis and a working-class uprising. The scenario has occurred before in Russian history. Defeat in the 1904-05 Russo-Japanese War led to the 1905 Revolution. Defeat in World War I led to the 1917 Revolution.

A prolonged war could lead to political crisis in either Russia or Ukraine, especially on the losing side, and that could lead to demonstrations, strikes and other working-class action against the government that failed it. Revolutionary socialists would welcome such a development in either country, especially in Russia, where it would change the political dynamic worldwide. But we can’t wish for a prolonged war, hoping that it would lead to revolution.

After the battle of Donbas is over, there might be an opening for a ceasefire. The governments would not be eager for one, since they would not have achieved their objectives. The Ukrainian government would not have retaken the territory it lost to Russia, and the Russian government would not have taken the territory it sought. But the mutual destruction, military impasse, and popular disillusionment with the war might force them to accept a ceasefire.

If the Russian government rejected a ceasefire, the character of the war would remain what it is now: predominantly a defensive war by an oppressed nation against an imperialist invader. The destruction would continue with little chance of Ukrainian success until the next impasse.

If the Russian government proposed a ceasefire and the Ukrainian government rejected it, the character of the war would change. It would become a war to retake territory to which Ukraine has an ambiguous claim. With the deepening dependence of Ukraine on the US and NATO, it would increasingly become a proxy war between the imperialist blocs. Peace would be better than the victory of either side.

There’s no reason to change position yet, but we should recognize that the longer the war continues, the more destructive and futile it becomes.

However the fighting in Ukraine turns out, the main task of revolutionary socialists in the US is to defeat the intrigues of our own rulers. US imperialism is exploiting the Ukraine war to escalate its cold war with Russia and, indirectly, China and reassert its imperial hegemony. We need to expose that and help workers understand the connection between imperialist war and domestic reaction.

 

 

 

The Necessity of Organizing DSA Members as Workers

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Christian Smalls, founder of the Amazon Labor Union (ALU), second left, and worker-organizers celebrate outside the National Labor Relations Board offices in the Brooklyn, New York on April 1, 2022.

Author’s note: This is a discussion piece about labor strategy in DSA but has value as part of the discussion that needs to take place in the labor left and the broader left in general regarding the labor movement, its very necessary revitalization, and the role of leftists. The author invites responses and hopes that this is merely the first in a more sustained, critical examination of the present labor movement and the left’s strategy within it.

With the elections of the third Steering Committee of the Democratic Socialists Labor Commission (DSLC) a few months ago, the Democratic Socialists of America’s (DSA) national labor body has entered its fifth year with much on its plate. DSA’s most recent national convention in August 2021 passed Resolution #5, “Building Worker Power to Win Democratic Socialism: A Labor Strategy for DSA in 2021-2023,” committing the organization to a range of labor-oriented projects from passing the PRO Act and organizing Amazon to transforming unions and connecting members through worker networks. While the approach taken in the resolution leaves necessary space open for experimenting in implementation, and valid criticism notwithstanding about the lack of prioritization within it, what it shows is that the organization is still grappling with the best way to go forward with its labor strategy – that is, where to start, in what proportions, and why?

It is hardly a light assignment charged to this new generation of socialists who face the not insignificant task of helping to revitalize a moribund labor movement by overcoming the objective and subjective obstacles workers currently face in battling their bosses and the capitalist class. Currently, most of those debating DSA’s labor strategy seem to talk past each other, focusing on tactics removed from material organizational conditions, with little regard to how to tie them together and implement them in a unified actionable strategy. Other more formal elaborations of labor strategy by the organization such as the Rank-and-File Strategy pamphlet recently published by the DSLC also fail to connect the assortment of tactics put forward or to prioritize them. It should be said that the pamphlet is a positive development for DSA with many merits as an introduction to the strategy. But on accounts of the Rank-and-File Strategy itself, it omits the core element of why being in and orienting to the rank-and-file in unions is essential for socialists, eliding the distinction between union officers and rank-and-file leaders in the process.

Along with the paramount question of how to revitalize the labor movement, other key questions that must be answered are: Why revitalization? What is the role of socialists in that revitalization? How can we better connect the socialist movement to struggles in the workplace and the labor movement? And how do we better build a socialist base in the working class? Still, those questions sit on the level of the near-abstract. To answer those, we must also more concretely ask how we build members’ experience, capacity, and leadership in the labor movement: How do we recruit from it? How do we develop organized currents among both class struggle unionists and as socialists, in workplaces, unions, and industries? How do we develop material political analyses of those various realms so that we might address their particular problems from a socialist perspective; and how do we do this in a sustainable, reproducible, scalable way?

A primary vehicle for answering these questions and accomplishing these tasks are workers’ circles. These currently go by a variety of names in DSA such as “industry network,” “industry group,” or “labor circle,” their functions and activity varying, existing in chapters, whether Los Angeles, East Bay, San Francisco, Portland, Seattle, Detroit, New York City, or Boston. While the concept is still in its infancy in this organization, it is hardly new to the history of the Left. Work-based socialist organizations of the past allowed for socialists to form and cultivate concrete, collective material expressions of their politics by engaging in grounded day-to-day organizing in their own workplaces, which enabled the creation of a rooted base for those politics and the collectives based on those politics. At present, this type of organization allows for the development of both class struggle and socialist politics through the rebuilding of a militant minority which can merge the socialist and labor movements organically from within, spurring on and leading the drive for the revitalization of the labor movement. Moreover, such organization, when animated by bottom-up class struggle and socialist politics, creates the conditions and capacity for DSA to address several vital organizational issues it faces while tying together various tactics in its labor work into a cohesive strategic whole to carry out and refine.

Historical Work-Based Organization

Perhaps the most historically well-known occurrence of work-based organization is the Communist Party’s “shop units” and fractions from the 1920s through the early 1940s and it’s no accident that one of the influential guides for Amazon workers organizing in the Amazon Labor Union was written in that period by a Communist Party leader. Shop units were organizations of the party that consisted of three or more Communists (though usually around ten) working at the same worksite, engaged in spreading the program of the party, developing and broadening a group of coworkers sympathetic to Communist politics, and encouraging militant industrial unionism. Their base of activity was the workplace. They distributed the party’s national daily paper, recruited workers to the party, put on educationals, organized around particular workplace grievances, and put out short, simple, and direct workplace newspapers that focused on the working conditions they and their coworkers faced but also included larger political issues that went beyond the scope of the workers’ immediate grievances and unionism. In a time with intense political repression, shop units faced many difficulties such as isolation, demoralization, and inactivity, but also served as the scaffolding for organizing committees ready to spring to life in the upsurge of a union drive, and they developed credible, experienced organizers and leaders with answers to the pressing problems workers faced in the workplace and their unions.The skeletal organization and the developed leaders laid the groundwork for the networks that brought the CIO to life.

Fractions, though similar to shop units, were considered independent of the formal party organization and acted as caucuses of party members within unions and their various apparatuses (executive boards, committees, councils, etc). Their base of activity was the union, though it frequently carried over into the workplace. Fractions caucused before union meetings to work out objectives, strategy, and goals to be presented. They also discussed and decided how to apply party policies to the union, thereby developing Communist positions on concrete union issues such as officer elections, union structure, and union programs. In addition to this, fractions deliberated on how to improve the working conditions of union members, how to introduce party campaigns into the union, how to recruit workers from the union to the party, and how to increase the readership of the party’s national daily paper within the union. Oftentimes, the functions of the shop unit and the fraction merged with the unit effectively also operating as a fraction. Though both shop units and fractions attempted to popularize Communist ideas, their secrecy amongst their coworkers, sectarianism towards other Left groups, and substantive errors in political direction and methods often limited their gains.

In the late 1960s and 1970s with the New Left’s radicalization and “turn to industry,” socialist organizations like the Dodge Revolutionary Union Movement and many with New Communist Movement and third-camp socialist roots further developed the shop unit and fraction, if not in name, then in practice, into the “struggle group.” The struggle group was an organization established in the workplace and union, guided by a program based on the circumstances of the particular site of organizing. The organization was active in the immediate struggles of both workplace and union, but went beyond the two to engage in, draw in, and attempt to link non- or less-directly related struggles, such as the antiwar and Black liberation movements, to their own work-based site of organizing. These groups were intended to be class organizations in the sense that those who were not from the parenting socialist organization could and should be a part of them. It was expected though that members of the parent socialist organization would play a key role in forming the struggle group and maintaining leadership positions in it. In practice, the struggle groups functioned along a spectrum from front groups to caucuses. Their goals were broader or narrower, changing over time, and the groups included sometimes more, sometimes fewer workers, according to the particular parenting socialist organization in question. Many groups that purported to be mass organizations were in reality narrow groups that didn’t collaborate with other socialist groups whose leftist members maintained control in an undemocratic fashion.

A complete accounting of these and other historical work-based organizations is beyond the scope of this article. However, strengths, weaknesses, and differences aside, what unites these three forms of work-based organization is that they allowed the socialists of the time to deal concretely and collectively with the particular, immediate issues of the spaces they organized in, enabling them to develop and spread concrete manifestations of their politics that were practical and felt by the community of interest in which they organized while also acquiring hard organizing skills, forming deep relationships with a diversity of workers, and cultivating their leadership capacities. By forming organization based on the workplace and union, these radicals recognized that the day-to-day conditions and needs of workers must be the basis of any socialist organizing and that the immediacy of these conditions and needs tends to be the only force galvanizing enough to get workers to push through apathy, fear, cynicism, and hopelessness to act, to take up collective struggle, engendering a sense of agency and power in their lives. At its core, this meant socialists as workers acting as primary agents of change in their own lives and in larger society, not simply active or passive supporters of the struggles of worker “others.” Furthermore, by creating organization based on where workers spend their daily lives, the socialist organization could be brought into the daily lives of the socialist organization’s own members, increasing their involvement and commitment to the organization by decreasing the gap between one’s daily individual activity and that of the organization. For unionists, if they were to be active socialists, this also meant overlapping the work required to organize in two different institutions – the workplace / union and the socialist organization – thereby decreasing the difficulty of involvement in both. While it’s easy to gloss over, work-based organization allowed the basic units of these socialist organizations to be defined through the work their members did in their workplaces. If the power of workers and the working class rests on our ability to stop the creation of surplus value at the point of production, then this is something socialists should not lightly pass over.

From the Bottom Up and Inside Out

A workers’ circle, then, is a group of DSA members organized on the basis of the work they do for a living, or in other words, based on their potential power as workers. Workers’ circles can be organized according to workplace, employer, union, industry, or sector, organizing in and across workplaces and unions. Though the particular scope and content of a workers’ circle is dependent on the unique circumstances its participants find themselves in, we can see that organization based on work is essential to socialist organizing, especially if we want to organize as socialists at work.

Underlying the organizational concept is an analysis of the history of the labor movement in the U.S., which, with the exception of the brief resurgence of the Left in labor in the 1960s and 1970s, has been mostly separated since the post-World War II due to the McCarthy era purges and organized labor’s integration into the Democratic Party, accompanied by the overall decline of socialist organization over the past 50 years. This analysis recognizes that in the past, a key element that has made unions into fighting, democratic organizations able to push past the limits and pressures imposed by capitalism was the presence of organized, experienced, politically developed militant radicals organizing, as part of a larger militant minority, on the shopfloor and extending outward. If one of our chief goals as socialists advancing the socialist project is to revitalize the labor movement – not only to aid in the improvement of workers’ immediate conditions but to midwife working class formation that can effectively fight capitalist exploitation and oppression, serving as a catalyst and base to develop a comprehensive, explicit class political movement that fights for working-class political, economic, and social transformation – then socialists must seek to reunite the socialist and labor movements by helping to rebuild a militant minority within the latter that can develop a class struggle current and a socialist pole of attraction within it.

For this reunification to occur organically and effectively, it must occur primarily in a bottom-up manner, from the inside out with socialists, either existing or newly-won, as active first-person participants in organized labor and the labor movement, not from the outside in. To do that means encouraging worker-members to organize in their workplaces and unions, and supporting them in doing so by providing them tools and resources including organizational space for political, strategic, and tactical discussions, training, and education as well as facilitating worker-member to worker-member connections.

The reason it must occur from the bottom up and inside out is that there are strong forces and pressures on unions as institutions and their leaderships that, without a strong organized rank-and-file to exert a more dominant counterpressure, inhibit the union leadership’s ability to develop the consciousness, combativity, and confidence of the workers they represent and without which transformative gains are not possible. These pressures stem not just from the employers themselves, but from capital’s controlling influence on the government, the political parties, the courts, and the economy, all of which are channeled onto the union leadership and the staff they hire, as the representatives of the union, or what’s often called the union officialdom. The potential and real punitive measures these entities dispense range from anti-labor legislation, fines, injunctions, and jailing to backdoor political horse trading, capital flight, and economic depression. Generally, these measures  keep the union and its leadership in line. However, pressures and incentives also arise from the distinct material interests that provide the basis for the distinct social layer of the union officialdom. Though leadership in lots of instances comes from the ranks (and should), once in leadership the worker is no longer in the same social position. The worker, now a union official, becomes responsible for the maintenance and reproduction of the union as an institution – their life, livelihood, and a sustainable career attached to its continued life – often succumbing to institutional conservatism which puts the interests of the union organization above the interests of the workers it represents. In addition to this, the extent to which the leadership no longer work in the workplace, no longer depend on wages directly from the employer for their survival, no longer are directly in touch with (and hence pressured by) the rank-and-file members, and no longer have the same standard of living, social status, and social relations as those of the average member, rising above them, is the extent to which the leadership’s material incentives and interests tend to separate from the workers they represent. Of course, union officials must deliver some minimal conditions, wages, and benefits in order to retain their positions – and this does not discount the commitment and dedication of many hardworking officers and staff to their members’ betterment – but it is all of these immense pressures which make the rank-and-file of any union, new or old, the fundamental driver of change and which make a base in it a necessity for socialists.

All of this means there need to be strong, organized rank-and-file forces within the union that can mobilize for the workers’ needs and that can keep their leadership accountable, able to push leaders out of the way if need be to act independently, if workers wish to counteract the pressure and influence of the employer and capital on their leadership, and diminish the latter’s institutional conservatism. In this sense, the union officialdom as a social group is wedged between labor and capital, acting consciously or not as mediators between the two with whichever influence is stronger winning out. With organized labor heavily bureaucratized, heavily constricted by capitalist material pressures and ideology, unable to turn the tide of decades of degrading working and living conditions, workers’ struggles against their bosses for better lives inevitably come into conflict with the operation of union officialdom which tends to preserve the status quo. It is the rank-and-file workers who bear the daily brunt of work intensification, short staffing, long hours, insecure scheduling, dehumanizing disciplinary measures, and declining real wages, and it is these conditions that eventually compel them to organize. As such, any socialist organization, or grouping of its members, whose main entry point or organizing position in organized labor is within union leadership and its staff will then be positioning itself in the same social layer that is most affected and conservatized by capitalist pressure, and therefore the least capable of revitalizing the labor movement. Without a healthy base of rank-and-file workers, the fate of the grouping of socialist workers then becomes tied to the fate of the union leaders and staff with which it is associated. As soon as the socialist workers fall out of favor with the union leadership, as soon as union leaders fall out of favor with their rank-and-file members, or as soon as the union leaders lose their formal leadership positions, so will the organizing of the socialist workers lose its influence or fall into disarray.

Insofar as the Rank-and-File Strategy concerns closing the physical-social gap between the socialist and labor movements as a means to close the breach in class and political consciousness between the two movements, existing socialists must be socially positioned primarily where the logic of class struggle has the most potential to be carried through and where the struggle will occur the most acutely. For the same reason that rank-and-file workers are the main drivers of change in unions and that rank-and-file workers need independent internal organization in their union to keep their union true to the aggressive pursuit of worker and working class interests, socialist workers must keep their socialist organization likewise in the ranks and independent from the union apparatus and leadership if they are to help create a vibrant class struggle unionism. Crucially, by organizing as workers, the workers’ circle allows for the possibility of the growth of a rooted working-class base in workplaces and unions best positioned to navigate and counteract the contradictory, conservatizing, and restraining pressures put on unions as institutions that undercut the advancement of working class struggle, organization, and consciousness – something necessary for any chance at labor revitalization.

Developing Class Struggle Practices and Socialist Politics

For socialist workers to find the workers’ circle useful enough to allocate valuable hours of their life to its activity, it must be able to address the practical needs of organizing as socialists. The circle then is based on the understanding that being a unionist by itself does not equate to being a socialist and that being a socialist doesn’t necessarily mean that one is well-equipped to organize in the workplace. If the latter were true, socialists would have a much wider base than they currently have within workplaces and unions. If the former were true, the labor movement and the AFL-CIO would look a lot different today.

While working in organizing committees and rank-and-file groupings is an essential condition of any work socialists undertake in workplaces and unions, that work by itself tells us little about what we should be doing as socialist unionists and how we should be doing it. How do we as socialists make the organizing committee or rank-and-file grouping as fully class struggle as possible? How should socialists relate to the NLRB in non-union and union workplaces? What are the conditions and preparations necessary to run a successful insurgent campaign that can transform a union? What are the unusual circumstances in which one would want to run as an isolated reform candidate without having built up some culture of rank-and-file initiative or a widely-backed platform to organize around? How should socialists pursue industrial unionism in the age of general unionism? What strategies and tactics do we use? What are the goals that we push for? How do we link to other movements and larger political struggles that may overlap with but that transcend the workplace and the union? Functionally and almost inevitably, there is also the question of how socialists in one group should relate to those in another when organizing in a workplace or union. There’s a necessity to work out a developed socialist orientation to be able to answer these questions both in general and in particular circumstances which just working as a scattering of individuals doesn’t tell us and that non-political worker organization can’t provide by itself.

The other side to this is that workers’ circles also present a potential ballast for DSA members as they make their way into the difficult world of workplace and union organizing. Without such a ballast in the specific contexts of our particular workplaces and unions, a higher potential danger exists of capsizing or unanchored drifting of our socialist politics, especially since the dominant ideology in any society is the ruling class’ ideology, and business unionism and labor liberalism still reign supreme within organized labor. The issues of Covid safety measures and vaccines, the undemocratic nature of the US political system, the red- and race-baiting of the far right via Critical Race Theory hysteria and law-and-order politics, and the abolition or restriction of abortion rights have to be thought about and dealt with. Being a militant unionist does not inherently provide the basis for socialist solutions to those questions, and application of those solutions to particular arenas of organizing. Furthermore, in this political moment, with the threat to bourgeois democratic institutions from the conspiracy-driven Trumpist right, we leave the larger political terrain of contestation within the unions and the workplace open and susceptible to far right politics if we ignore developing and articulating a socialist politics in these settings while engaged in our unionist work. Undoubtedly, while the basis for an articulation of such a socialist politics, and the creation of a base for them, should take place within a class struggle method of organizing focused on the immediate issues of the the workplace and union, that method does not automatically translate to the creation of those politics and their longer term goals, but must be consciously undertaken. Workers’ circles thus have the potential to keep us grounded in our socialist principles and politics, balancing them with the immediate needs and struggles of unionism.

Practically, the concept of the workers’ circle acknowledges that to organize effectively, one must organize collectively as a group. Organizing as an individual or a collection of individuals can be a very isolating endeavor, prone to frustration and burnout. The development of organizing skills, the development of a socialist political perspective and strategy for any given domain of activity, the sharing of experiences, the providing of material and non-material aid, and the community of support that comes from all of that, and which is necessary to sustain long-term struggle, must actively be created. It cannot be done by organizing ourselves as socialists based on geography and residence, though those may be suitable characteristics for other non-work-based domains of organizing.

Hence, the workers’ circle is a stimulant, a vehicle, and an aid for organizing as socialists in workplaces and unions, not a substitute or replacement for that work. Its overall purpose is to organically reconnect current socialists with organized labor and the labor movement, develop them as capable workplace organizers while also attracting new or burgeoning socialist workers to its sphere of activity and DSA as a larger organization, thereby helping to rebuild local militant minorities that can develop local class struggle currents, and socialist poles of attraction within them, within local labor movements that can eventually be connected regionally and nationally, and which can spur on the revitalization of that movement as a whole.

Addressing Working Class Diversity and Other Organizational Hurdles

 As a part of DSA, workers’ circles would allow the organization to address and remedy, at least partially, several concrete problems it faces generally, and also specifically, in its labor work: organizational composition, capacity, leadership development, and siloing.

Though both workplaces and unions still struggle with the discrimination of racism, sexism, transphobia, and xenophobia, they are some of the most diverse settings in the U.S., consisting of workers as a class, with union workplaces in particular being more materially equal for workers of color than non-union workplaces. In unions, Black workers are more likely to be union members than white workers and nearly four in ten union members are workers of color. Educationally, slightly more than half of union members have no bachelor’s degree. By being organized around and anchored in work, DSA can better take steps to fix its lack of diversity within the working class, in regards to race and ethnicity, but also in regards to industry and job type. Being able to engage in organizing around the immediate conditions and needs of workers means engaging the vast majority of workers who are rightly cynical and alienated from elections and have a large number of competing demands for their time. Individuals are less likely to be motivated to spend time in activities they see as futile and out of their control, but they can be compelled and motivated to join in activities that can directly address their immediate needs and improve their immediate conditions. Work-based organization and activity thereby allows us to expand outward from the layers of the working class in which we have disproportionate representation and which tend to be better educated, better-off, and whiter. By expanding the diversity in one sphere of our activity, we can then be better positioned to expand diversity within our membership as a whole.

As mentioned above, those who want to be active in DSA and active in their workplaces and unions have double duty in terms of work and meetings. Organization based on work, while not eradicating the difference between the two sites of activity, overlaps them significantly, making it easier to sustain worker-member involvement in DSA by increasing the incentive to remain involved since their involvement will be directly linked to the improvement of their immediate needs and conditions. The proximity between DSA organization and workplace-union organization also has the potential then to increase our capacity in specific ways such as the ability to conduct organizer trainings, political education, socials, solidarity support, and jobs programs. Worker-members have a direct self-interest and motivation to do these things because they are linked to the desire to better working terms and conditions in one’s own field, and increase the democracy, and hence effectiveness, of one’s union. What this means is that, while our overall experience and knowledge as an organization is generally low and undeveloped in the workplace, organized labor, and the labor movement, workers’ circles offer the long-term organizational basis for developing those in a systematic, self-perpetuating manner. That also means more developed concrete bases in the workplace, strengthening our ties to workers and the working class while at the same time encouraging as wide a swath as possible of our members to think of themselves as workers. This last part bears emphasizing because many DSA members do not think of themselves as a worker or as part of the working class. Though a majority are working class as identified in organizational surveys and therefore part of the working class-in-itself, they have not yet become a part of the self-conscious class-for-itself that socialists strive to form.

Lastly, the synthesis of skills, experience, and political perspective required in the labor movement, and thereby in DSA’s labor work, are all ultimately based on the experience of organizing in the workplace and in the union. With the long-term development of workers’ circles whose activity is based on organizing in the workplace and union, an engine of leadership development with an active leadership pipeline, grounded in the labor movement, can better be created for DSA in this crucial terrain of struggle. Contributing to this leadership development, because the type of organization is based on and mirrors part of the structure of workers’ daily lives, a more holistic approach to the whole complex of issues workers face – racism, sexism, immigration, environmental degradation to name a few – can be undertaken. Instead of DSA conducting its work primarily based on organization formed around issues abstracted from real life organic structures, it can take up each issue as it manifests itself concretely within the organic everyday institutions of the workplace and the union, grounding and tying together its various strains of work in a comprehensive manner.

Tying Tactics Together

Both on the national and local levels in DSA, core areas of DSA’s labor work have included political labor education, strike and solidarity support, electoral and legislative campaigns, organizer development, jobs programs, and connecting DSA members through work-based networks. Each one of these is often listed next to each other on a laundry list of projects to implement with little to nothing yet written on how they might connect with each other and in which order they might be undertaken or prioritized, leaving it up to the smarts and discretion of individual members, chapters, or leadership bodies to figure out what they want to do. The unrecognized potential keystone that can hold together these core areas in a cogent whole, connecting into a political and organizational strategy, are the aforementioned work-based networks, or in other words, workers’ circles.

Electoral and legislative campaigns (referred to hereafter as “parliamentary campaigns” for short) are the predominant form of DSA activity. Within a workplace and union context, these campaigns tend to do little to immediately address and solve workers’ needs and problems, do little to build workplace organizing skills – skills motivated by a categorically different logic than electoral organizing – and are typically not able to address the political, organizational, and cultural obstacles within unions that create member apathy and cynicism, disrupt solidarity, and encourage top-down business unionist modes of functioning. Leaving aside the question of the desirability of taking up these parliamentary campaigns as socialists within the labor movement (there are times where these would make sense), on both the national and the chapter level, our organization has little or no means to effectively and systematically push these within workplaces and unions. This leaves initiative up to isolated individuals in union locals, perhaps in the best circumstances an uncoordinated handful, with little support in assessing the viability of a particular campaign within their union or in applying the campaign to their union. Unmoored from a rank-and-file organizational expression, DSA, if it wishes to pursue such campaigns, cannot then push for the campaign organically via the needs and will of its dual members – those who are both members of DSA and of a given union – but must push for it artificially from the outside as an institution itself seeking the institution of the union via the latter’s leadership, in short, orienting this activity towards influencing union officialdom, the status quo historical orientation of DSA before its 2016 rebirth. Workers’ circles would allow parliamentary campaigns, when they do make sense, to be carried out in a more systematic, organized, bottom-up fashion.

Similarly, workers’ circles can add stability to jobs programs that chapters and their local labor formations may decide to take up. While there is still much confusion in DSA about the rank-and-file strategy, demonstrated by the conflation of a single tactic – getting jobs with the purpose of workplace organizing – with the strategy as a whole, proponents of jobs programs should recognize that this tactic is not effective as the central tactic of a labor strategy. It is important that as socialists we’re where there’s the most strategic potential for organizing and this tactic can help with that and has the potential to help address our compositional imbalance as an organization, but it can only do the latter if the worker-transplants stay organizationally linked to DSA in their organizing and the DSA-linked organizing they do is useful in addressing the needs of the worker-transplant, the needs of of the greater workforce at a given employer, and the needs of the the greater membership in a given union. More significant than this though is that, based on this author’s experience in actively developing a jobs program in their own chapter, the tactic of the jobs program only tends to involve the 1% to 2% of DSA membership that wants or needs a new job, has skills and interest in jobs at one of the designated targets, wants to take the leap, potentially lifelong, into workplace and union organizing, and has all other obligations and everything else in their life align. If DSA helps members get jobs, the organization must also create support, training, and development structures for them, otherwise it runs the risk of isolating, overwhelming, and burning them out – a dominant critique featured in the “Socialists on the Job” panels that the DSLC put on last year of New Left industrializers reflecting on their socialist organizations’ experiences in the 1970s and 80s. Political education, organizer trainings, mentorship, a sense of community – the means of support that a worker dedicated to organizing in a new job would want – all of these are things that workers-members in a workers’ circle would provide out of their own collective self-interest in organizing and therefore would not have to be created from scratch. In situations where DSA doesn’t have an existing concentration of members in the employer, union, industry, or sector as the jobs program target, those with the new jobs there will likewise tend to be driven by their own individual and collective self-interest to create these support and organizing structures, first in smaller informal means and then, if the group grows, in a larger more formal manner. Non-union jobs program targets have to operate slightly differently, but the principle remains the same for them too. The organic endpoint if DSA wishes to keep its organizational ties to those who get new jobs and not see them wander off into the distance or burnout is workers’ circles.

All of the above organizing and support endeavors involved in workers’ circles also serve as a beacon of attraction for non-DSA militant worker reformers and socialists with whom we establish relationships through our strike and solidarity support, making possible the long-term consolidation of relationships formed in those activities and serving as a home for workers-as-workers within DSA. The question we must be asking ourselves is, “why would a worker want to be involved in DSA activity or join DSA – what do we have to offer them?” The answer that most would recognize is that a worker would get involved in or join DSA if they knew it could help them in their struggles, but we must specify further what this means.

If it just means showing up to support struggles from the outside, then the relationship the worker has with the organization will tend to be a more shallow, transactional one: you come out to support me, I’ll come out for things to support you. In this relationship, DSA is viewed as an institution and as an “other,” separate from the struggles of the worker with little organic connection between the two. If DSA can only provide support for the irregular, big explosions of struggle and the like – which is of course a crucial and important activity – then that is what workers will seek it out for once every three to five years for the duration of their contract-related action before retreating back to their union. If, however, on the other hand, helping workers in their fights means being involved in the daily struggles of the worker, acting as a vehicle and aid for the waging and winning of those struggles, then the relationship the worker has with the organization will be a more personal, transformational one. In this relationship, DSA is viewed from the bottom-up through its worker-members and as a critical, organic part of the worker’s struggles. If DSA can provide support, resources, and community for the day-to-day struggle, acting as an instrument for its development, then workers will seek it out for exactly this, for it is that day-to-day struggle that is the most immediate and the most difficult to navigate as it involves hundreds of concrete mundane actions, events, and decisions that add up to and shape the course of the larger manifestations of struggle as seen in strikes.

Through workers’ circles, DSA can be a vehicle for the development of workers’ daily struggles. With the same motivation that underscores the drive to get support in these struggles is the drive to connect with others like one’s self in the same employer, industry, or union who are also in struggle or want to be. Once again, the motivation is self-interest: workers want to meet those who they can organize with to better their job and union; they want to meet others who are in the same boat from whom they can get ideas, information, resources, and the support of comradeship; they want to meet those who have already been through battles so they can get advice on maneuvering, tactics, and strategy. Through direct, material self-interest, there’s a motivation to support other workers in one’s industry, union, and employer, not only because individuals are more likely to help those with whom they identify, but because of how the supported workers do in their struggle against their employer determines what sort of pressure, upward or downward, is imposed on their own working terms and conditions, and shapes the strength and quality of the politics and practices of their shared union, adjacent unions, and the local labor movement,

The workers’ circle is thus the organizational basis for uniting jobs programs, solidarity support, new member recruitment, political labor education, organizer development, and parliamentary campaigns while developing experience, leadership, and class struggle politics as organic actors in the struggle with skin in the game, affected first-hand by both victories and losses. Through involvement in workers’ immediate everyday struggles from the first-hand perspective as workers and animated by a bottom-up, rank-and-file, class struggle politics, it is also the organizational basis on which DSA can fix its compositional imbalance and artificial siloing, and develop its capacity and member leadership. Workers’ circles even present the potential, albeit in embryonic form, for moving towards developing a basic unit of organization within DSA based on work. With its activity driven by the desire for help and support in the striving of its worker participants to improve their working conditions and unions, it has the material basis on which to sustain, reproduce, develop, and expand itself, a class struggle current, and a socialist pole of attraction within the labor movement.

If workers’ circles are not undertaken in a systematic, collective manner across the organization, DSA can still play a valuable role as a basic entry point to socialist ideas and the progressive wing of the labor movement which includes a tiny minority that are endeavoring to put into practice class struggle unionism toward the ends of working class emancipation. However, its role will end there as it will be unable to develop and provide the masses of workers – not from the outside and top-down but from the inside and bottom-up – with the particular, concrete ideas, strategies, methods, and support they need to overcome the problems and stagnancy of current worker organization in surmounting capitalist influence of unions through labor officialdom, state regulation, legalism, ideological hegemony, political parties, and the organization of labor processes that favor capital. These must be addressed in order for workers to have collective rank-and-file control over their unions, to have unions that will unflaggingly fight for their members and workers everywhere, and to create new unions where none exists that can win transformative changes in the lives of its members and other workers. Workers’ circles with class struggle and socialist politics allow us the opportunity to develop responses to the tough questions of the labor movement in our time. We have a long, steep path before us, and we can start to climb it, but only if we take up as a priority with full support and full resources the project of workers’ circles in and across every chapter of DSA.

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