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  • Reply to Eric Blanc’s “Can Leninists Explain the Russian Revolution?: A Reply to Sam Farber”

    Reply to Eric Blanc’s “Can Leninists Explain the Russian Revolution?: A Reply to Sam Farber”

    Eric Blanc’s reply to my review of his book,i titled “Leninist Can’t Explain the Russian Revolution” (later changed to “Can Leninists Explain the Russian Revolution?”),ii makes it appear as if I dealt primarily with the Russian Revolution. But that is not so. To the extent that I deal with a revolution, it is primarily with the Finnish Revolution, because Blanc presents it in his book as his model socialist revolution. My review focuses, instead, on what I believe is the central point of disagreement between Blanc and myself, namely, Blanc’s efforts to replace the classical revolutionary Marxist model followed by Lenin and by Rosa Luxemburg that holds that the ruling class could not be expected to surrender its power peacefully. It is a model that therefore calls for Marxists, regardless of their specific conceptions of the revolutionary role of the socialist parties, to actively organise and prepare, strategically and tactically, to confront the violence of the ruling classes. Blanc argues for an alternative model based on a neo-Kautskyan approach that focuses on parliamentary activity and assumes that the revolution will happen without the purposeful revolutionary preparation and agency of its flesh and blood participants. To replace that classical model with a neo-Kautskyan approach is, to my mind, the equivalent in Cuban parlance of “swapping a cow for a goat” (cambiar una vaca por un chivo).

    I refuse to speculate on comrade Blanc’s motivation to label me as a Leninist, although I am surprised he does it, since I know he is familiar with my book Before Stalinism. The Rise and Fall of Soviet Democracy, which did not get good reviews from Leninists, including comrades and friends. Be that as it may, I take no offence at being called a Leninist (or a Luxemburgist, Trotskyist or Gramscian). While I certainly don’t lose any sleep over this particular matter, if I was asked what I would call my politics, I would respond by calling myself a “democratic revolutionary socialist”, which, in my view, is an expression of the concept of socialism from below.

    What makes a Marxist party a revolutionary party?

    In his reply, comrade Blanc continues to sideline the single most important issue of my review: my insistence that Marxist theoretical orthodoxy does not by itself make a revolutionary party. As I argue in said review, to qualify as revolutionary, a party must also be a combat-oriented party both in strategic and tactical terms. That does not mean that revolutionary parties do not have to adjust to changing developments in the course of a revolutionary situation, as was the case, for example, of the defensive position that the Bolsheviks temporarily found themselves in during the 1917 “July Days”, a failed uprising that they were compelled to support, in spite of their misgivings, after it had broken out in the open. However, those common political ups and downs of any revolutionary process do not invalidate the fact that the overall Bolshevik revolutionary activity followed the political direction stipulated earlier by Lenin in his April Thesis, to focus the struggle on taking over the government and replacing a parliamentary republic with a “Republic of Soviets”.

    Compare that, as I do in my review, with how the “good Kautsky”—the Kautsky before 1910, who Blanc looks up to—measures as a revolutionary leader. Although he did allow for the possibility of a violent resistance by the ruling class to defend their power, it is nevertheless clear that he expected a peaceful transition to socialism based on the considerable growth of a highly organised working class in Germany. That, in the context of what Massimo Salvadori described in his Karl Kautsky as his Darwinian evolutionism, led him to a particularly organic, non-dialectical view of the “inevitability of socialism”. This ideology was conducive to the organisational conclusions that he formulated in The Road to Power (1909), his single most important work addressing the issue of the overthrow of capitalism: “The Socialist party is a revolutionary party, but not a revolution-making party … It is not part of our work to instigate a revolution or prepare the way for it …” In light of the abstentionism of the “good Kautsky”, one wonders what he would have told a Russian revolutionary to do confronting, in August of 1917, general Kornilov’s attempted right-wing coup against the Provisional Government. It was the armed intervention of working-class militants led by the Bolsheviks that made all the difference, not only by preventing the success of the coup, but also by dramatically increasing the political influence of the Bolshevik Party in the Soviets, thus laying the basis for the latter’s victory in October. This is a clear example of what preparing for a revolution is about, a task to which the “good Kautsky” was, at best, indifferent.

    This does not mean, as Blanc claims, that I am proposing that there is only one socialist strategy and tactics that applies to every situation or, as he puts it, to “an autocracy, a semi authoritarian parliamentary regime, or a democratic capitalist state”. I am well aware that political strategies and tactics must vary not only among the three different systems Blanc mentions, but also among different kinds of democracies and dictatorships. I am intimately aware of this issue since I follow Cuban politics very closely and actively collaborate with La Joven Cuba, the most important blog of the critical Cuban Left. (I am a member of its Advisory Board.) The political situation in the island could not be more difficult for a left-wing critic or oppositionist, and is radically different from what leftist oppositionists face in capitalist parliamentary democracies. For example, approximately 1,300 people were arrested during the spontaneous popular, and heavily Black, demonstrations on 11 July of last year. Many of those arrested received sentences of up to a year in prison, but some two hundred of them have been threatened with heavy prison sentences ranging from 5 to 30 years for demonstrating in the streets, or at most for some destruction of property, since the demonstrations were, for the most part, peaceful. The critical Left in Cuba which, like all critics and oppositionists in the island, has zero access to the government-controlled mass media (radio, television and newspapers), has supported the demonstrations while making crystal-clear their principled opposition to the US economic blockade of the island. Over the long run, this critical Left is aiming at a thorough democratisation of Cuban society while, at the same time, opposing any outside foreign intervention in Cuban affairs.

    However, I do argue in my review that, even though neither socialism nor revolution are on the agenda or in the political horizon of the US, it is highly unlikely that the ruling class will accept a peaceful transition to socialism, and that, long before that happens, capital will likely dismantle the democratic system at the mere threat of losing its power. That is what the right-wing sectors of the ruling class are already trying to accomplish in the face of the comparatively much less threatening challenge to its political and economic power. They are implementing this through a wide battery of measures aimed at restricting voting rights and eliminating vote counting safeguards, and by adopting new gerrymandering measures to limit the political influence of racial and minority groups and white liberals, while propelling a vicious anti-immigrant agenda to make sure the narrowing 58 percent white majority does not soon become a minority. The likely future economic, ecological and political crises will encourage future US governments to increasingly turn to “exceptional” undemocratic measures. That is what makes it necessary for socialists in the US to develop a long-term strategy that prepares them to confront those critical turning points in the future.

    Defensive politics of Blanc’s revolutionary model

    Blanc takes a particular offense to my characterisation of his politics as a defensive politics, which as I argue in my review, is closely related to what I regard as the absence of a combat perspective in his analysis of what he calls “revolutionary social-democratic” parties. He fails to mention, however, that he was the one to introduce that concept in his book when he stated that the “October Revolution itself was also a ‘defensive revolution’ and the Bolsheviks similarly cast their politics in defensive terms” (p. 313). In my review I refute Blanc’s “defensive” characterisation of the Russian Revolution by pointing out that the overall Bolshevik revolutionary policy from at least April to November 1917 was strategically and tactically oriented towards what Lenin referred in his April Thesis, as overthrowing the government and replacing it with a republic of Soviets. This was not only Lenin’s position: by the end of April, the party’s seventh all-Russian conference overwhelmingly approved his call for “all power to the Soviets”.

    But the fact remains that Blanc does follow a defensive politics when he uncritically states that it was the semi-authoritarian political context that prevailed in the Germany of Kautsky’s time that led the SPD to adopt a strong educationalist ethos with an emphasis on building an organised proletarian subculture and patiently spreading the “good word” of socialism, rather than promoting risky mass actions or winning immediate parliamentary reforms. He then goes on to celebrate the German SPD for having amassed one million members and for having built a dense subculture based on proletarian political, social and cultural associations, without uttering one word on how these institutions might have ended functioning as agents of working-class adaptation rather than as fighting class instruments. Neither does he write a single word regarding the bureaucratisation of the party and its unions and of their fundamentally anti-democratic practices (described in detail in Robert Michel’s Political Parties) and increasingly conservative politics (pp. 90-91).

    Blanc is, in fact, describing and defending an SPD that was not a revolutionary party (as analysts outside the Left at that time, such as Max Weber, had pointed out). Yet, he writes, without questioning the implications, that Kautsky, along with other “revolutionary social democrats”, argued that the persistent promotion of proletarian education and collective association was revolutionary in itself, as long as it was consistently linked to the assertion of the party’s end goals (p. 56). This assertion of final goals is, unfortunately, not very meaningful unless those goals are continuously nourished by the daily militant practice of party members and the working class.

    Class independence

    In the absence of a revolution of a revolutionary situation in the US, revolutionaries get involved in the struggle for reforms. But, in a different manner from that reformists use for reform: they insist, as I argue in my review, on preserving the independence of the working class and the oppressed groups involved in the struggle by opposing their collaboration with the state and with the employers that, in the end, might become an obstacle in their future struggles. That is why revolutionaries hold that unions cannot concern themselves, and much less guarantee, the profitability of the enterprises for which their members work. That includes participating in co-management schemes with employers, which, in practice, involves accepting responsibility without getting any power in decision making and compromising in the process the unions’ organisational independence.

    Blanc rejects my conception of class independence calling it an “extreme degree of political independence”, which, in a previous exchange on Facebook, he called an “extreme degree of class intransigence”. If by “extreme” or “intransigent” he means my standing against making concessions on the independence of the working class to the political and economic powers, I plead guilty to that. The problem is, he never explicitly states what class independence means to him. He seems to imply, by omission, that, for him, class independence is relevant only in relation to the state; on the independence from the ruling class he doesn’t say anything. That is what I think allows him to support political campaigns regardless of their relationship of the ruling classes, or sectors thereof, that back them.

    But what he also does is that he uses what he labels as my “extreme” position on class independence to portray me as a sectarian who opposes all political campaigns that are not “revolutionary”. He is wrong. I celebrated Boric’s victory in Chile, which I see as an achievement of a mass democracy movement that also elected the current Chilean Constitutional Convention. I don’t know what Boric might do once he takes office, but what is undeniable is that, in the two electoral rounds, he defeated the other candidates supported by, and connected with, the Chilean ruling classes. Like Comrade Blanc, I was also thrilled when Jeremy Corbyn was elected as leader of the British Labour Party because he was a prominent left-wing leader of that party, an organisation that is still organically tied to the working class as shown by the major role that the British unions play inside it.

    However, the political campaigns of Boric and Corbyn differ from Bernie Sanders campaign. Not because Sanders’ domestic programme has been more or less radical than Boric and Corbyn’s; or because Sanders has more or less political integrity than them. The real difference lies in the Democratic Party, to which Sanders has, unfortunately, tied himself hand and feet, a party that is organically tied to major sections of the US capitalist class—although I understand and respect the many young radicals who have been attracted to Sanders. The Democratic Party is not even a real party with a real membership—even though Sanders won over twenty state primaries in the 2016 elections, he did not end up, as a result, controlling a single one of the Democratic parties in those states. It, rather, functions as an electoral committee mostly dependent on the money it gets from ruling class circles from Silicon Valley, Hollywood and most of Wall Street firms, among others. Along with the Republican Party, it is a quasi-legal entity with immense powers to establish the electoral rules that insure their permanent control. As these lines are being written, Democratic and Republican politicians are playing a major role in the congressional redistricting in a large number of states.

    The Finnish Revolution

    Comrade Blanc proposes the revolution led by the Finnish Social-Democratic Party in 1918, as the model to be emulated by revolutionary socialists. As I previously noted, this is why my review focuses on this revolution. Based on what Blanc himself wrote about it, and on the work of Finnish social scientist and historian Risto Alapuro (State and Revolution in Finland, Haymarket Books, 2019), and of the late Finnish social activist Pekka Haapakosi, I concluded in my review that the politics that informed the practice of those Finnish social democrats, the left-wing included, was a “defensive” politics that did not rise to the challenge of taking power when that was feasible.

    After the February 1917 revolution in Russia, when Finland—then a part of what had been the Tsarist Empire but was granted a considerable degree of political autonomy—was left without an army and police, the SDP did come to power, although in coalition with the bourgeois parties, having adopted a position to the right of Karl Kautsky, who had at one time criticised French socialist leader Millerand for entering the same type of coalition government in France. The Finnish SDP was, however, expelled from the Finnish ruling coalition by the Russian Provisional government, who, in addition, dissolved the government. This opened the door to a process of mass radicalisation that grew when the new elections that were called by the Russian Provisional government in October 1917, resulted in a narrow loss for the SDP, that insisted that the elections were illegal and that their defeat had been the result of electoral fraud, although, according to Risto Alapuro, the SDP narrow loss may have also been due to the party’s decision to limit their campaign to the issue of national independence from Russia and say little about its social objectives, an approach consistent with its defensive politics and methods (p. 147).

    Mass radicalisation escalated when the newly elected right-wing government went into the offensive, disarming the worker-guards that had been put in place in September 1917 with the consent of the SDP party and trade-union leaders as a concession to the more radical Finnish elements in the context of the growing political agitation exacerbated by a worsening food shortage. At the same time, upper-class forces began to develop their own paramilitary forces, officially recognised as government troops in January 1918, as the right-wing was extending its power (Risto Alapuro, p. 156).

    It was at the high point of revolutionary agitation and strength, when workers had assumed power disarming and arresting the local authorities, and controlling, through the strike committees they instituted, the acquisition and distribution of food supplies (Pekka Haapakoski, “Finska Klasskriget 1918” Internationalen, #5-7, 1974, translated from the Swedish by Hannu Reime), that the SDP leadership, unable to reach agreement on seizing power, called instead for a general strike on 14 November 1917. The general strike was very successful, and, even then, the party leadership remained reluctant to seize power. Although Blanc acknowledges that the SDP decision to not take power at that time allowed the bourgeois forces to build up their own troops in the following two months leading up to their defeating the revolution, he nevertheless is noncommittal on the SDP’s decision not to seize power at that moment, insisting that “there was no way of knowing during the general strike whether a more favourable moment for taking power might subsequently present itself” (p. 144). This is a point that an outside observer may make after the fact. But, for those involved in the struggle informed by the perspective of seizing power, the decisive question was whether there was a reasonable chance for the revolutionary forces to prevail in November or whether that would have been premature, if not suicidal to attempt to do so.

    As it happened, it was only months later, in January 1918, when the strength of the revolutionaries had considerably diminished, that the SDP leadership chose the revolutionary option. Yet, even then, their defensive political outlook prevented them from giving the necessary attention to the military preparations and operations required to win against the Finnish Whites. Instead, they decided to concentrate their efforts on administering the newly won territories of Helsinki and southern Finland (Alapuro, pp. 157-8) instead of trying to take over the whole country. So, the Finnish Whites won. It might be, as Blanc argues, that the powerful military intervention of the Germans in Finland, which started by providing aid to the Finnish Whites and was followed by German troops landing in the southern coast and marching into Helsinki in April of 1918 (Alapuro, p. 160), would have brought down the revolution had it won. But it was the defensiveness, lateness and hesitation of the “revolutionary social-democratic” Finns that hindered the revolution’s chances. Revolutionaries are often compelled to act defensively, but a strategy of defensive politics is fatally flawed in the context of a revolutionary upsurge where defensiveness means doing too little and too late, and, more importantly, not acting to win.

    Blanc’s “Tensions and Difficulties”

    Towards the end of his critique of my review, comrade Blanc writes about what he calls “the tensions and difficulties” of the democratic-socialist push to overturn capitalist rule. He mentions two “difficulties”: one, the vastly unequal power resources of different classes”, a point with which I agree; and two, “the contradictory openings and obstacles [of] parliamentary rule under capitalism”, which suggests to me that his political strategy is primarily centred on parliament (i.e., Congress) as the arena of struggle for the American Left.

    However, if the main strategic task for the American Left is to change the existing relation of forces in society, Congress (the American parliament) cannot be the main arena of struggle. It is not changes in congressional politics that changes the relations of forces in society, but it is those changes, if they do occur and are successful, that are reflected in Congress. What changes the relation of forces are social mass movements that disrupt business as usual.

    Less than two years ago, the Black Lives Matter movement erupted into the streets of America in what became the largest and longest lasting demonstrations witnessed in this country. This movement had a substantial impact on the social and political climate of race relations in the USA. It was able to do so because it disrupted business as usual in this country. Similarly, it was the massive disruptions that the Civil Rights Movement created in American cities from 1963 until the end of that decade that brought about the victories represented by the Civil Rights and Voting Rights Acts in 1964 and 1965. It is worth noting that it was Republican Senate minority leader Everett Dirksen who, in cooperation with liberal and moderate Democratic senators, broke the filibuster with which the white racist Southern Democratic senators tried to kill civil rights legislation. Besides electoral considerations, Dirksen and the Republicans did that because of their fear of unrest and instability in the US. One of the challenges of the US Left today is to use those proven methods of mass disruption to combat the national reactionary offensive to dramatically reduce voting rights and most ominously sharply reduce existing guarantees that votes will be counted as they are cast. The current attacks on voting rights and the Biden Administration’s failure to do anything to protect undocumented immigrants calls for the renewal of mass actions like the massive street demonstrations against immigration restrictions and abuses that took place in the spring of 2006.

    In the long term, the union movement must be revived with a focus on helping to bring about a radicalised, anti-bureaucratic multi-racial labour movement that emphasises the development of militant rank-and-file control from below. As we know from historical experience, the development of this new labour movement will depend on what E.P. Thompson called the “conscious minority” of militant cadres to act as the spark plugs for this new labour upsurge.

    i https://newpol.org/was-there-a-revolutionary-social-democracy/

    ii https://www.historicalmaterialism.org/index.php/blog/can-leninists-expl…

    Reposted from Historical Materialism

  • Can Leninists Explain the Russian Revolution?

    Can Leninists Explain the Russian Revolution?

    Can Leninists explain the Russian Revolution and its lessons for today? My new book Revolutionary Social Democracy: Working-Class Politics Across the Russian Empire, 1882-1917 marshals extensive new primary data from across the Russian Empire to challenge longstanding myths about the Russian Revolution — and to challenge unhelpful Leninist (aka “revolutionary socialist”) political strategies based on these myths.

    Here I will only address major errors of fact and analysis in Samuel Farber’s recently published review of Revolutionary Social Democracy, since space is limited and because the points unaddressed here are dealt with at length in my book. Farber’s review begins with one big factual mistake and proceeds on that basis, without citing new historical data and without challenging the data I provide in my book, to recapitulate the standard “revolutionary socialist” critique of Karl Kautsky and Second International, whose strategy V.I. Lenin and the Bolsheviks supposedly broke with.

    The big factual error is Farber’s claim that, in imperial Russia, “most of the ‘revolutionary social democratic parties’ supported the war.” Though he cites my book as the supposed source of this claim, at no point do I make it — for the simple reason that it’s untrue. Not only is Farber’s assertion about most borderland parties’ supposed support for World War One untrue, but, as I showed in the book, revolutionary social democrats led successful seizures of power in a majority of imperial Russia’s regions in 1917-18 that had their own Marxist parties — this radical outcome placing all power in the hands of working people occurred in Estonia, Latvia, Central Russia, Azerbaijan, Finland, as well as Lithuania. And, even in other regions such as Poland, revolutionary social-democratic parties such as the PPS-Left and SDKPiL tried but did not ultimately succeed in overthrowing capitalist rule.

    Having decreed by unfounded fiat that most revolutionary social democrats were not in fact revolutionary in practice, Farber then goes on to recapitulate Leninist myths about non-revolutionary Second International Marxism and the supposed strategic innovations that distinguished the Bolsheviks. But, as I showed in detail my book, and as historian Lars Lih and others have shown elsewhere, the strategy of revolutionary social democracy (aka “orthodox Marxism”) articulated by the early Kautsky was actually shared by Lenin, Rosa Luxemburg, and other revolutionaries across Tsarist Russia — and this strategy was the strategic basis for all parties that overthrew capitalist rule in 1917-18, including the Bolsheviks and the Finnish Social Democrats. Farber provides no new evidence to bolster the old claim that the strategy of “Second International Marxism” was not as revolutionary as it claimed, or that the Bolshevik current broke from this strategy before or during 1917.

    Farber asserts that what distinguishes Kautsky’s strategy and tactics from that of real revolutionaries is that the latter base their strategy on the “expectation that a socialist revolution will have to rely on the widespread use of force” and, therefore, that they base their tactics on class independence against the capitalist state and employers. The problem with Farber’s claim is that the revolutionary social-democratic strategy articulated by Kautsky consistently advocated both of these points.

    In terms of strategy, as I cite and explore at length in the book, here is what Kautsky actually argued: “Now, as in the past, Marx’s saying remains true: force is the midwife of any new society. No ruling class abdicates voluntarily and nonchalantly … A rising class must have the necessary instruments of force at its disposal if it wants to dispossess the old ruling class.” Similarly, I showed at length that one of the defining and central tenets of Second International “orthodox Marxist” strategy was its intransigent insistence on class struggle, its opposition to participation in coalition governments between workers and liberals, and its opposition to participation in executive government under capitalism as a general rule.

    I was particularly surprised to read Farber’s claim that what’s “missing in Eric Blanc’s analysis” in Revolutionary Social Democracy is a case for the centrality of working-class political independence. In reality, one of my book’s central themes is that it was precisely the acceptance or rejection of an intransigent strategy of class struggle and opposition to participation in capitalist coalition governments that was the central divergence between imperial Russia’s radical and moderate socialists and the central factor explaining the revolution’s divergent outcomes across the Russian Empire.

    The fact that I’m unconvinced that an extreme degree of political independence is relevant to the United States (or many other parliamentary regimes) today does not shape my analysis of imperial Russia’s movements a century ago. The contexts are different. According to the political formulae of that era’s revolutionary socialists (including Kautsky), socialist and workers should have actively opposed trying to elect not only Bernie Sanders in the US, but also Jeremy Corbyn in the UK and Gabriel Boric in Chile — all participation in executive governance under capitalist parliamentary regimes was rejected by Second International revolutionaries. The burden of proof is on Farber and those who share his views that this level of independence from the state is relevant today.

    Farber is on no stronger factual or analytical ground when he claims that I and Kautsky argue that “an entirely defensive politics can be successful in gaining power.” In fact, far from elaborating a case for the strategic centrality of “defensive politics,” I barely address this question at all. As I explain in the book, the line between “defensive” and “offensive” politics is usually exceedingly unclear (and often non-existent) in the class struggle. For example, each of the most plausibly “offensive” actions of the Finnish Social-Democratic Party (SDP) and the Bolsheviks — from calling general strikes to initiating revolutionary uprisings — were consistently framed and seen in “defensive” terms. A strong commitment to “defensive politics” was neither a significant theme in my book nor in revolutionary social-democratic strategy.

    Nor, contrary to Farber’s claims, was “defensive politics” a major point of contention in the Finnish Marxist debates over taking power in November 1917 — as I showed in the book, according to the Finnish SDP’s revolutionary social-democratic politics, all the strategic preconditions for seizing power were present that month. The reason the Finnish Marxists seized power two months later —like the “delay” of the Baku Bolsheviks (April 1918) and others across imperial Russia — was primarily due to contingent questions of context and tactics, not “Kautskyist” strategy. (A few further factual corrections: Farber incorrectly claims that the Finnish SDP from its founding onwards “did not call for even the gradual contest of power.” It is also not factually correct to claim that the SDP in 1917 said “little about its social objectives.” Nor is it plausible to suggest that the trajectory of the Finnish revolution in 1918 was not leading beyond capitalism.)

    Any even-handed historiographic account has to acknowledge that the main reason why the Finnish Red Government was eventually crushed in 1918 had relatively little to do the timing of its initial establishment. Far more important was the fact that, absent significant military aid from the Bolsheviks, the Finnish workers’ regime was vastly outgunned by the combined military weight of the German and White Guard armies. In this sense, as well as its commitment to workers’ rule through universal suffrage, the Finnish Red Government was very similar to the short-lived Paris Commune of 1871. Why should socialists like Farber today reject the socialist content and strategic lessons of the former but not the latter?

    Farber’s desire to cast true revolutionaries as advocates of “offensive” revolutionary politics leads him to make another inaccurate claim: that the Bolsheviks from March 1917 onwards were “oriented towards a revolutionary insurrection.” But as Lenin and Trotsky consistently emphasized in 1917, and as even other Leninist historians have acknowledged, the demand “All Power to the Soviets” for most of the year simply meant that the Menshevik and Socialist Revolutionary leaders should end their coalition with liberals, peacefully displacing the illegitimate, un-elected, widely despised Provisional Government.

    Contrary to what Farber claims, all revolutionary social democrats, Kautsky included, expected and prepared workers for capitalist counter-revolution. Once workers were strong enough to win a parliamentary majority for socialism, Kautsky and his co-thinkers expected that the ruling class would resort to anti-democratic reaction. It was precisely for this reason that Kautsky and revolutionary social democrats in Finland and beyond pushed for the dissolution of the standing army, the arming of the people, and why they explicitly and consistently rejected pacifism and called for revolution. The major difference between revolutionary social democracy and post-1917 Leninism is not, as Farber asserts, that the latter had a more realistic understanding that capitalists would resist and refuse to accept the legitimacy of parliamentary sectioned socialist transformation.

    The actual difference between Leninists and revolutionary social democrats was that the latter believed that reaching socialism and socialist revolution in democratic contexts required that socialists push to win a majority to parliament through universal suffrage elections. According to both Kautsky and the early Lenin (i.e. prior to his State and Revolution), workers would seek to seize the democratic governmental openings that existed under capitalism — socialists before, during, and following socialist revolution should therefore seek to preserve and expand republican parliamentary institutions, rather than discard them. Leninists, in contrast, from 1918 onwards, proposed that only workers’ councils installed through mass armed uprisings against the entire existing parliamentary state (not just its anti-democratic bureaucratic and military structures) could install socialism.

    Since I and others like Carmen Sirianni have explained elsewhere why Leninism has nowhere come close to becoming a viable majoritarian current in capitalist democracies and why it’s an unsuitable strategy for socialists today, there’s no need here to rehash those arguments. Only two points should be underscored here. First, revolutionary social-democratic strategy was proven to be a viable path to workers’ power in Finland. And, second, the October Revolution hardly confirms the Leninist case for “dual power” insurrections against capitalist democracies — the Bolsheviks in 1917 led a soviet revolution in a context defined by decades of autocratic rule, in which there was no existing government democratic elected through universal suffrage.

    The relation of political strategy to distinct political regimes is a central component of my book but it nowhere figures in Farber’s review. In fact, he doesn’t engage with my book’s major thesis: that the experience of imperial Russia shows why effective socialist strategy necessarily looks different in different political contexts (autocracies like most of Tsarist Russia, semi-authoritarian parliamentary regimes like pre-war Finland or Germany, or capitalist democracies). This is true both for tactical questions — such as the relative emphasis socialists place on disruptive mass action — and for long-term strategy, such as the expected role of parliamentary institutions in the transition beyond capitalism. Farber seems to assume that I’m making a case for the relevance of Kautsky’s strategy to all contexts, an idea I explicitly and repeatedly reject. As I argue in the book, and as I have elaborated on recently, neither early revolutionary social-democratic strategy nor post-1917 Leninism is the most suited socialist strategy for capitalist democracies today.

    Farber, like other Leninists, implausibly suggests that socialist strategy and tactics should be fundamentally identical in an autocracy, a semi-authoritarian parliamentary regime, or a democratic capitalist state. At no point in his review, or elsewhere, has Farber made a positive or plausible case for this claim.

    It’s easy to point out the tensions and difficulties of the democratic-socialist push to overturn capitalist rule. We openly acknowledge these as well. These political dilemmas are rooted in the vastly unequal power resources of different classes and the contradictory openings and obstacles of parliamentary rule under capitalism — unfortunately, nobody has yet developed a suitable strategic formula for overcoming these dilemmas.

    Given the actual historical record since 1917, it’s much harder to demonstrate in theory or practice that “revolutionary socialism” has a plausible chance of ever becoming a majoritarian current in parliamentary contexts. Learning the right lessons from the Russian Revolution is one way socialists today can start to more critically, and more effectively, develop strategies and tactics appropriate to the actual contexts in which we find ourselves.

    Reposted from Historical Materialism.

  • Biden and the Democrats Face Potential Disaster; Sanders Calls for a New Course

    Biden and the Democrats Face Potential Disaster; Sanders Calls for a New Course

    Poll finds that Biden gets an F – MSNBC

    This article was written for L’Anticapitaliste, the weekly newspaper of the New Anticapitalist Party (NPA) of France.

    [Jan. 26, and 2022] President Joseph Biden took office a year ago, having defeated former president Donald Trump by a vote of 51.3% to 46.9%, a difference of more than seven million votes. Biden had asked voters to join him in what he called a “battle for the soul of the nation.” Those who voted for him expected him to end the COVID pandemic, to revived the economy so damaged by COVID, and to defend American democracy from the increasing authoritarianism of Trump and the Republican Party. His platform called for major economic, social, and political programs to make the country a better place for all.

    Today, despite a strong start in his first few months, Biden finds himself and his party failing on every front, opening up the prospect of a Republican victory in the mid-term elections for House and Senate on November 8 this year. Biden’s failure limits the possibilities of the progressives and socialists in the Democratic Party’s leftwing and means that the labor and social movements will face more difficulties in the future.

    Biden’s presidency began auspiciously. He and the Democrats with Republican support passed the $1.9 trillion Covid-19 relief bill and the $1.2 trillion infrastructure bill. He has been able to bring joblessness down from 18 million to 2 million receiving unemployment benefits, that is, down from 9 percent on Inauguration Day to 3.9 percent now. With a massive national vaccine distribution program, COVID cases and deaths began to fall—but then came Delta and Omicron, and once again the pandemic swept the nation, filling hospitals, taking thousands of lives, and disrupting the economy.

    In foreign policy, Biden began by reasserting America’s role as an imperial power, repairing relations with the European allies that Trump had scorned and calling for resistance to the rising power of China. But his abrupt withdrawal from Afghanistan undermined his allies’ confidence in the United States, while his handling of the Russian threats to the Ukraine have created greater friction with the European powers.

    Biden’s frustrations come in large part from the highly disciplined Republican Party whose members now vote en bloc against him in the Senate and the House. But they also arise from divisions within his own Democratic Party whose conservative Senators Joe Manchin and Krysten Sinema vote with the Republicans, making it impossible to pass his social legislation, tax proposals, and voting rights legislation. Biden has been unable to pass Bill Back Better Bill containing many social programs like childcare, education, and health or to defend the voting rights legislation protecting black, Latino, young, and elderly voters. With COVID continuing, the economic recovery proceeding but unevenly, and with inflation growing at 7% a year, a forty year high, people have lost confidence in Biden. Today according to polls only 37% approve of the job he is doing while 52% disapprove.

    On the left, Senator Bernie Sanders, has called for “a major course correction. “It is no great secret that the Republican party is winning more and more support from working people,” said Sanders. “It’s not because the Republican party has anything to say to them. It’s because in too many ways the Democratic party has turned its back on the working class….It’s important that we have the guts to take on the very powerful corporate interests that have an unbelievably powerful hold on the economy of this country.”

    Moderate Democrats, however, criticize Biden for having leaned too far left. They want a course correction too, but to the right.

    What might change the country’s direction, perhaps in the spring, if the pandemic ends, is a resurgence of mass labor and social movements. Progressives, socialists, and others on the left should be involved in organizing such movement when they arise in order to create an independent political force.

     

     

     

     

     

  • Left Antisemitism and Consistent Democracy

    Left Antisemitism and Consistent Democracy

    I am grateful to Daniel Fischer for his review of my book Confronting Antisemitism on the Left: Arguments for Socialists. I am particularly flattered that, despite his obvious disagreements with core aspects of my argument, Fischer recommends the book as “probably the best available on the subject”, and honoured that he saw fit to buy it for friends as a Hannukah gift.

    There is always a danger in responding to a review that one ends up precipitating an exchange that runs to book length in itself. Readers interested in themes raised in Fischer’s review will, I hope, go on to read my book, so they can assess his critique of it alongside the source material, in context and in full. Although it is not my intention to provoke a lengthy exchange of polemics, I feel a response to Fischer’s review could help clarify some elements of the wider debate. I also felt it important to correct one or two places where I feel Fischer has, I’m sure unintentionally, misrepresented my arguments.

    Our most substantial disagreements centre on perspectives for Israel/Palestine and our approaches to Zionism and anti-Zionism. I’m not sure how Fischer is statistically measuring his claim that “antisemites are more likely to be Zionists”; as I’m sure he knows, there’s plenty of reactionary anti-Zionism in far-right and Islamist milieus. And I find his claim that “left antisemitism’s most widespread manifestation [my emphasis – DR]” is “left-leaning Zionists’ ubiquitous claim that anti-Zionism is antisemitic” slightly baffling. If I grasp his point at all, I’m not sure how it’s supportable in the light of Fischer’s own experiences on anti-Israel protests, described in the vignette at the beginning of his review. Surely those politics are a more “widespread” and significant “manifestation” of antisemitism on the left? But for what it’s worth, I’m explicit in my book that anti-Zionism is not necessarily antisemitic. But, I argue, some forms of anti-Zionism are, and that simply mechanically repeating the mantra that “anti-Zionism is not antisemitism”, as if it can never be, can have the effect of engendering a collective ignorance of those moments when it is.

    I cannot share Fischer’s adulation of Lenni Brenner, whose work has provided a would-be “historical” basis for some of the worst conspiracist anti-Zionism on the far left. For readers interested in picking through the issues, I’d recommend this guest post on the blog of socialist journalist Owen Jones (written by a self-identified “anti-Zionist Jew”), Brian Klug’s recent letter to the New Statesman on the Haavara Agreement, this 1984 review of Brenner’s work from Socialist Organiser, and Barry Finger’s comment on Brenner on the New Politics website.

    Claims that the scattered instances of “collaboration” between some Zionists and Nazi authorities were not, in fact, the realpolitik choices of bourgeois-nationalist leaders made in conditions of utter desperation, but rather expressive of some comprehensive ideological affinity between Zionism and Nazism, do not, of course, originate with Brenner. They stem most centrally from Stalinism’s “anti-Zionist” campaigns of the 1950s onwards, conducted on an industrial scale. In the face of Stalinism’s industrial production of anti-Zionist propaganda, it is hardly possible to do as Fischer accuses me of doing and “overstate the centrality of anti-Zionism” to Stalinist antisemitism. There are literally thousands of books, articles, and speeches demonstrating its very clear centrality. Arguments similar to Brenner’s are threaded through many of them.

    Fischer claims, wrongly, that I “support the mainstream two-state settlement which denies full equality to Palestinians within Israel’s borders.” Whether advocacy of any form of two-state settlement could be meaningfully described as “mainstream” any longer is highly debatable, given that bourgeois realpolitik has substantially lapsed into acceptance of the chauvinist one-state reality Israel has imposed on the ground. But in any case, the model of two-states I support is certainly not one which “denies full equality to Palestinians within Israel’s borders”. I support a two-state settlement because I believe the foundation of an independent Palestinian state, alongside and with the same rights as Israel, remains the obviously implied “next step” for levelling up the national rights of the two peoples. I also support struggles to win full equality for the Palestinian minority in Israel in the here-and-now. In my book, as well as opposing the occupation of the West Bank and East Jerusalem and the blockade and siege of Gaza, I explicitly oppose the “intense racism and discrimination” suffered by the Palestinian minority in Israel.

    I quite deliberately refer to a two-state “settlement” rather than a two-state “solution”. I don’t see two states as an ultimate “solution” or end-point, but rather as a better foundation on which to build movements towards a democratic unitary state than the contemporary unequal one-state reality. I am sympathetic to efforts such as the “A Land for All: Two States, One Homeland” initiative, which try to move beyond two-state/one-state dichotomies and argue for a model based on two distinct national entities with close links, ultimately aspiring towards confederation.

    It was their policy on the Palestinian refugee question which I promoted in the book, and which Fischer attacks in his review. This policy, developed jointly by Israeli Jewish and Palestinian activists, seems to me a perfectly reasonable starting point for democratic accommodation. I urge readers to read it in its entirety and judge it for themselves. What initiatives like this grasp, which so much of far-left thinking not only ignores but actively rejects, is that future confederation and unity can only emerge as the result of mutual recognition, accommodation, and joint struggle between the two peoples, rather than somehow being imposed.

    Fischer says he wants to “smash Zionism, not Israel”. As an internationalist, I want to “smash”, if one insists on using that word in this context, all nationalisms, as I believe nationalism inimical to class politics. As a revolutionary anti-capitalist, I want to “smash” all states. Whether it is effective to pose that as a programmatic slogan and political point-of-departure is another matter. I’ve attended many protests in support of Uyghur human rights outside the Chinese Embassy in London; our campaign opposes the Han-Chinese chauvinism that provides ideological buttressing for China’s neo-colonial project in East Turkestan. But does Fischer think it would be good politics to put “smash Han nationalism”, or “smash Chinese nationalism”, on a banner?

    Given the history of Zionism, which, as Gilbert Achcar put it, “emerged in reaction to an unbearable form of racist oppression which […] culminated in the Nazi genocide”, there is a particular case for sensitivity. What does Fischer imagine the majority of Jews, for whom “Zionism” may mean no more than support for Israeli Jewish self-determination and a loose affinity with Israel as an expression of Jewish nationhood, will hear in his “smash Zionism” slogan? I doubt he’ll get the opportunity to explain the small-print, or to convince them that what they see as “Zionism” isn’t really Zionism.

    I should clarify that I am focused here on the discourse of the western left; I am in no position to “tone police” the Palestinian street, where words a good deal more bellicose than “smash” are undoubtedly and understandably deployed in response to the suffocating infrastructure of colonial oppression. But this is not merely a question of language deployed in casual conversation, but a matter of how political perspectives should be summarised. On that, I will say only that I admire the democratic humanism of those such as Edward Said, who argued: “In our situation as Arabs, it has been a stupid and wasteful policy for so many years to use phrases like ‘the Zionist entity’ and completely refuse to understand and analyse Israel and Israelis on the grounds that their existence must be denied because they caused the Palestinian Nakba. History is a dynamic thing […] [We] have to go beyond such idiocies as saying that […] Israelis are all, man, woman, and child, doomed to our eternal enmity and hostility.”

    Fischer argues that the Israeli Jews’ “status as a nation does not give them a right to statehood”. Of course, it is possible to express national self-determination in forms other than a separate state. But believing that (at least) some national peoples do have the right to a state, which Fischer presumably does, but the Israeli Jews categorically don’t, seems a different order of argument.

    I’m not uninterested in Fischer’s discourse about alternative forms of self-determination. But this discourse seems to belong to a semi-utopian imaginary of a post-national future. It is not a political answer to immediately-posed national questions. In terms of how nationhood is actually constituted in contemporary society, I don’t know what word other than “antisemitic” to use for the implications of a politics which tells the world’s only Jewish national group, whose existence as a distinct nation is inextricably bound up with experiences of anti-Jewish oppression, that, whilst other national peoples may have a right to statehood, they do not. Fischer accepts this as implicitly antisemitic, but says he’s sceptical as to whether any leftist really applies this kind of extreme exceptionalism. But if there are other instances of this “yes to national self-determination, up to and including the right to a state… but not for you” approach in major currents of far-left thought, I’m not aware of them.

    None of this requires moderating criticism of the actually-existing Israeli state’s policies, its borders, its laws, or even its constitutional basis. And I share discomfort with the formulation that “Israel has a right to exist” when it is deployed, as it often is, by those who refuse to acknowledge Israel’s suppression of the Palestinians’ “right to exist” as an autonomous national people. But insisting, as a requirement of socialist principle, that Israel does not “have a right to exist”, suggests a programme requiring the abolition of actually-existing Israel as a condition of any progress at all. (Then, presumably, from the rubble, some more satisfactorily democratic settlement can be established, by someone, which will allow the Jews “self-determination”, but not a state.)

    This is, at best, utopian, given that it essentially presupposes conditions of post-statist, post-national consciousness, which are hardly likely to drop out of the sky, and perhaps least of all in a situation of long-running national oppression. At worst, it licenses antisemitic chauvinism, given that the only force presently remotely capable of even attempting the abolition of the actually-existing Israeli state is the Iranian state and its paramilitary allies. A “decolonial” programme which confers “anti-imperialist” status on the wild fantasies of Israel’s regional-imperialist rival is not, I would argue, consistent with socialist principles, and certainly not with the anti-campist principles Fischer and I share.

    The only truly democratic way to abolish the existing Israeli state is via a social revolution based on a majority of its inhabitants, necessarily including Jews. If, despite my assessment, it proves possible for such a revolutionary movement to emerge fully-formed in a single leap, with both Israeli Jews and Palestinian Arabs developing a kind of post-national consciousness, I will be thrilled. But this seems unlikely enough for socialists – and, centrally and most immediately, socialists active in Israel/Palestine – to at least hedge our bets, and leave room for a transitional programme which includes the right to distinct statehood for both peoples.

    It also seems notable that Fischer doesn’t apply his advocacy of post-statist utopianism, as opposed to distinct national claims, equally on all sides. He sees the Palestinian national struggle as axiomatically “rooted in principles of liberty and equality”, even though it has always been hegemonised by statist politics of some form. So, for Fischer, it seems, Israeli Jews must give up their national claims, which can only impel exclusivism and chauvinism, in the name of a post-statist conception of self-determination; but Palestinian nationalism, which will necessarily impel “liberty and equality”, is only to be celebrated. Presumably any notion that democratic accommodation between the two claims might be necessary should be dismissed as compromise with “the oppressor”. This seems more to convey an attempt to assign a transhistorical moral essence to different national groups, and determine their entitlement to rights on that basis, rather than a consistently democratic approach.

    It might also be noted that Fischer’s survey of the Palestine Liberation Organisation (PLO)’s history oddly fails to acknowledge its official support, since 1988, for a two-state settlement. Notwithstanding the many legitimate criticisms of the PLO, I welcome this position as an acknowledgement that both Israeli Jewish and Palestinian national claims are legitimate.

    Fischer’s review discusses my promotion of Steve Cohen’s deliberately tongue-in-cheek self-description as an “anti-Zionist Zionist.” I’m clear in the book that I use this label in Cohen’s irreverent, mischievous spirit rather than as a serious proposal for how the left should describe its approach. It’s not meant to offer “clarity”, particularly, and certainly not intended to express a whole political programme. Rather, it’s a provocative shorthand for some of what I believe a consistently democratic perspective must express: support for Palestinian self-determination, hostility to Israeli Jewish chauvinism, exclusivism, and supremacism, but also sensitivity to the historical experiences that impelled the emergence of Zionism and the desire for national-statehood, and support for the right to self-determination of Israeli Jews. On a personal level, it also speaks to the niche in which I aim to position myself: too “Zionist” for the left antisemites, too “anti-Zionist” for Jewish chauvinists.

    Fischer calls for socialists to promote a “vision that convinces Israeli Jews they can live safely and freely in as a de-Zionized country.” I’m unconvinced of the usefulness of the term “de-Zionised” here, but let’s accept we share a desire to convince Israeli Jews that their rights and security don’t require the denial of those same rights to Palestinians. In fact, such a denial will ultimately imperil those rights: in Marx’s phrase, “a nation that oppresses another forges its own chains.” The question, then, is how to mobilise Jews and Palestinians in common struggle to break (“smash”, if Fischer insists) those chains, and forge instead a common future based on equal rights – which, if it does not include equal national rights, will not, in fact, be “equal”.

    Our efforts are best spent supporting movements on the ground, such as Omdim be’Yachad (Standing Together), which seek to organise both Jews and Arabs against racism and occupation, as well as around shared class interests on day-to-day economic and social struggles. The formal policy of Standing Together is that both peoples, Israeli Jewish and Palestinian Arab, are entitled to statehood – i.e., for two states. But their movement also includes those who advocate unitary-binational and confederal models; if, in the course of their efforts to build joint struggles, significant social consent emerges for a genuinely egalitarian, democratic unitary model, that should be welcomed and celebrated. Fewer borders are invariably preferable to more. Socialists in Britain and America will surely do more to contribute to the emergence of such a future by making practical solidarity with the forces seeking democratic unity and joint struggle than by insisting on a utopian-reactionary maximalism.

    At the end of his review, Fischer includes a note calling attention to the fact that No Pasaran Media (NPM), the imprint which published my book, was founded by Jon Mendelsohn, a (Blairite) Labour peer, whose politics on Israel/Palestine Fischer describes as “centrist-Zionist”. I suspect Mendelsohn himself would prefer “liberal-Zionist”, but I won’t split hairs. Although Fischer laments that my publisher does not have “impeccable anti-Zionist credentials”, he concludes, in effect, “… but don’t let that put you off”. I’ll say a word or two on that here.

    As I noted in the acknowledgements in my book, my condition for accepting NPM’s offer to publish a book of my writing on left antisemitism was that they exercise no political control over its content. They honoured this condition fully and at no point attempted to intervene in or politically shape my arguments – arguments which certainly don’t align with Mendelsohn’s politics. Fischer accepts that my politics are “not identical” to Mendelsohn’s. It would be more accurate to say they run significantly counter to them, as did the politics of Steve Cohen, a reprint of whose book Mendelsohn chose to make NPM’s first publication.

    As for Ben Freeman, whose book Jewish Pride was published by NPM before mine, I think it is clear that our politics are worlds apart. I see Freeman’s politics as Jewish-chauvinist and anti-Palestinian. But, frankly, given that I don’t expect Freeman to account for my book in his circles, I don’t feel any obligation to account for his in mine, just as I don’t believe anyone published by Verso since 2015 is obliged to account for the fact they share a publisher with Max Blumenthal. I would also invite readers to consider the rather ugly implications of the argument, not made by Fischer but which I have seen suggested elsewhere, that Mendelsohn’s Zionism somehow flows through his money, rendering publications it funds an agent of that “Zionism”, regardless of the actually published content.

    On some of mine and Fischer’s other disagreements – for example, around the question of antisemitism as an “oppression”, and whether it has a “structural” character – I will simply reflect, and would welcome further responses and critiques. And finally, whilst I welcome Fischer’s description of me as an “independent thinker”, which I certainly hope I am, my perspectives are inevitably shaped and informed by my political education. That has included work by writers and thinkers such as Steve Cohen, Moishe Postone, April Rosenblum, and others from outside my own, more narrowly-defined, political tradition. But it has also centrally included analysis and critique developed by comrades in Workers’ Liberty and our predecessor organisations, over more than four decades. Much of that work is directly referenced and drawn on in my book. I hope comrades interested in the arguments will go on to explore the wider body of political literature that informed them.

  • Overcoming Left Antisemitism

    Overcoming Left Antisemitism

    Daniel Randall, Confronting Antisemitism on the Left: Arguments for Socialists (London: No Pasaran 2021)

    Holding a slice of kosher pizza, a friend and her yarmulke-wearing partner asked about the rally I’d attended against the Israeli bombing of Gaza last May. Politically Left-leaning and deeply critical of the Israeli government, the couple might have considered attending the rally. I wanted to look them in the eyes and tell them they’d have felt fully welcome. But I would have been lying.

    The truth is that when I asked for a chant idea, a protester suggested, “Palestine is our homeland, and the Jews are our dogs.” The truth is that signs and speeches advertised the nationalist group If Americans Knew, whose founder Alison Weir claims medieval Jews ritually sacrificed Christian children.1 The truth is that my friends might have encountered a local anti-war activist who proudly supports Hamas, a group whose senior official Fathi Hammad had recently announced, “People of Jerusalem, we want you to cut off the heads of the Jews with knives.”

    That month, a fringe of protesters across America invoked ugly tropes of deicide and Jewish control, with signs saying “Jesus was Palestinian and you killed him too” and “Israel controls the media.” Jewish buildings were targeted with “Death to Israil” [sic] graffiti and a Palestinian flag alongside a smashed window. There were even allegations, some more credible than others, of anti-Zionists physically assaulting Jewish individuals.2 Meanwhile in the United Kingdom, a Palestinian flag-decorated car convoy drove through Jewish neighborhoods shouting, “Fuck the Jews, rape their daughters.” The following month, former U.S. Green Party presidential candidate Cynthia McKinney shared an image of the 11 September 2001 attacks with the caption, “Zionists did it.”

    It’s true that Left antisemites have generally adopted more subtle rhetoric since 1952 when Stalin declared, “Every Jew is a nationalist and an agent of American intelligence.” Today’s antisemites often use coded language for Jews, similarly to how white supremacists use “thugs.” These words and actions nonetheless fit the recent Jerusalem Declaration’s definition: “Antisemitism is discrimination, prejudice, hostility or violence against Jews as Jews (or Jewish institutions as Jewish).”3 More importantly, they contribute to a structural antisemitism that, regardless of individuals’ intent, and even aside from its effect on Jews, hinders any attempt at emancipatory change. Disproportionately obsessing over Jewish bankers or the Jewish state distracts the Left from opposing its real enemy: a more intangible system that the late Black feminist scholar bell hooks called “imperialist white-supremacist capitalist patriarchy.”

    In this context, British socialist Daniel Randall’s Confronting Antisemitism on the Left: Arguments for Socialists provides an important intervention. As Randall demonstrates, Left antisemitism is all too real, has especially strong roots in Stalinism and its legacies, and functions as a dangerous frame for conspiratorial thinking. The book’s publisher, No Pasaran, was formed in 2019 to republish Steve Cohen’s 1984 classic That’s Funny, You Don’t Look Anti-Semitic. Randall’s book brings Cohen’s cutting analysis to the present day. Although Randall rightly draws much inspiration from Cohen, it’s unfortunate in my view that he disavows Cohen’s “utopian, semi-anarchist streak” (138). Cohen advocated a “no-state solution,” a vision I strongly support (while also welcoming the shorter-term one-democratic-state aspiration). By contrast, Randall supports the mainstream two-state settlement which denies full equality to Palestinians within Israel’s borders and prevents Palestinian refugees from exercising their right of return.4

    Randall knew of our disagreements when he asked me to review this book, and one thing I appreciate about his approach is his commitment to open and respectful debate. Of course, anti-Zionists like myself will have numerous disagreements, which I’ll summarize in the next section. But first, let me say that Randall’s readers will find thoughtful and often convincing analysis of Left antisemitism’s history and contemporary relevance, as well as strategies for combating it. It’s a timely guide that helps us confront a pressing problem on today’s Left. In fact, I gave a copy to my aforementioned friends for Hanukkah, and I’ll especially be encouraging my anti-Zionist friends to read it too.

    You can’t weaponise something that isn’t there”

    Randall’s volume is not and doesn’t pretend to be a comprehensive guide to fighting antisemitism. Importantly, the title is Confronting Antisemitism on the Left rather than Confronting Antisemitism from the Left.5 Readers will need to look elsewhere for an analysis of antisemitism on the Right. To be very clear, antisemitism remains most pervasive on the Right and strongly coincides with xenophobia and Islamophobia. Since support for Zionism is also stronger on the Right, antisemites are more likely to be Zionists than anti-Zionists. As Israeli-American ethnographer Atalia Omer observes, “White nationalists take from Euro-Zionism’s textbook aspirations for ethnoreligious supremacist political hegemony.” For example, U.S. far-right rallies fly the Israeli flag, and Richard Spencer (who has called Jews “little fucking k*kes”) has famously identified as a “white Zionist” and expressed “great admiration for Israel’s nation-state law.” In the United Kingdom, antisemitic beliefs are highest on the political Right and Center, and in Germany, where the fascist Alternative for Germany (AfD) party holds pro-Zionist views, more than 9 in 10 antisemitic incidents between 2001 and 2020 came from the Right.

    It’s sheer opportunism, then, when establishment Christian and Jewish Zionist groups have often classified anti-Zionism as inherently antisemitic and have thrown accusations disproportionately and falsely against the Left and especially people of color. For example, Zionist groups smear the entire Palestinian-led Boycott Divest Sanctions (BDS) movement as antisemitic, and CNN pundit Marc Lamont Hill was fired merely for advocating “a free Palestine from the river to the sea.”6 Black-Jewish peace activist Rebecca Pierce was falsely labeled a “Jew Hater” and “Antisemite of the Week,” and even a “fake Jew.” To say anti-Zionism is antisemitic is itself antisemitic and defamatory, since it falsely essentializes Jews as Zionists.

    Facing this pervasive antisemitism on the Right alongside a barrage of false accusations against the Left, many socialists and progressives pay almost no attention to Left antisemitism at all. You’ll find virtually no critical discussion of Left antisemitism in popular Left-wing books such as The Politics of Anti-Semitism (Counterpunch, 2003), On Antisemitism (Haymarket, 2017), or Antisemitism and the Labour Party (Verso, 2019). To the contrary, you’ll read this charming sentiment on page 1 of the former: “I think we should almost never take anti-Semitism seriously, and maybe we should have some fun with it.” And yet people wonder why more Jews aren’t showing up to our Palestine solidarity rallies, despite a quarter of American Jews opposing Zionism.

    Randall helpfully stakes a clear position between those denying Left antisemitism and those opportunistically “weaponizing” the accusation against the Left: “Antisemitism has indeed been ‘weaponised’, but as the socialist writer and lawyer David Renton succinctly argues: ‘You can’t weaponise something that isn’t there’” (5). Well, you could weaponise basically anything, but the claims of Left antisemitism would not gain currency unless there were some kernel of truth behind them.

    A main danger of a book like Randall’s, which draws on the important critique of structural antisemitism, is that it could easily lead to a hyper-sectarian and suspicious politics as the communist theorist Gerhard Hanloser describes:

    “The critique of ‘structural Antisemitism’ and ‘truncated anticapitalism’, which has congealed into jargon, lays a protective hand over the ‘character masks’ of capitalism and its institutions–although this favor hasn’t even been requested. It trivializes Antisemitism by claiming to see it in every fetishistic expression of discontent with capitalism […] This theory opens the door to a politics of suspicion and accusation, a Stalinist tradition of politics is revived.”

    It’s to Randall’s credit that he succeeds more often at avoiding this trap than do some commentators on Left antisemitism. Unlike some of the thinkers he cites, Randall makes a crucial distinction between antisemitism and anti-Zionism. He also seems willing to listen open-mindedly to his political opponents, regardless of their organizational affiliation. In my critical comments, I’ll try to follow his lead and will refrain from turning this review into either an argument against Zionism or a critique of the Alliance for Workers’ Liberty with which Randall affiliates. Instead, I’ll focus on what I find valuable and frustrating in Randall’s actual text.

    My disagreement, in short, is that I see confronting antisemitism as one strand in a broader anti-oppressive praxis. I strongly agree, in other words, with a statement signed by 15 progressive Jewish groups (including Jewish Voice for Peace and Israel’s Boycott from Within): “Do not isolate antisemitism from other forms of oppression.” By contrast, Randall does not see antisemitism as a type of oppression, and he seems to approach confronting antisemitism as a distinct project that actually balances and moderates anti-oppressive struggles. I’m sure he’ll object to this characterization, but in my view it comes across in his lack of support for fully decolonizing Palestine and in his overly broad-brush critique of various New Left and decolonial politics that he rejects as “revanchism,” “identity politics,” “nationalist resentment,” and “anti-imperialism” (a term he uses pejoratively). It also comes across in the fact that his entire book never mentions what is probably Left antisemitism’s most widespread manifestation: Left-leaning Zionists’ ubiquitous claim that anti-Zionism is antisemitic. Though this claim, conflating Jewry with a settler nationalism, is reminiscent of the classic antisemitic trope that Jews cause wars, you’ll find it asserted as fact in The Nation, coming from a No Pasaran author, and even in some far-Left circles.

    A State Capitalism of Fools

    Discussions of Left antisemitism often reference German Social Democrat Augustus Bebel’s supposed condemnation of it as “the socialism of fools” in the 1890s. Actually, the term can be traced back earlier to the Austrian liberal Ferdinand Kronawetter who in 1889 declared, “Antisemitism is nothing but the socialism of the idiot of Vienna [i.e. village idiot].” When Bebel later described the “socialism of fools,” he did not outright oppose it but instead saw it as a progressive step toward a holistic socialism (54-5). While these factors suggest limitations with the oft-used term, a further problem is that Left antisemitism has its strongest roots not in genuine socialism but in Stalinism. Depending on our preferred analysis,7 we might be better off calling it a “state capitalism of fools” or “bureaucratic collectivism of fools.”

    Although Randall points to antisemitic remarks in the writings of Marx and Bakunin, these remarks were not significant aspects of the anti-capitalist ideologies they influenced. While Marx’s “On the Jewish Question” called Jews money-obsessed hucksters, it paradoxically did so in the context of supporting Jewish emancipation. Bakunin’s antisemitic comments remained obscure to generations of historic Anarchists.  In an interview with Shane Burley in these pages, Randall explains that this 19th century variety is better understood as antisemitism “on the left,” a spillover from society at large, rather than antisemitism more specifically “of the left.”

    The more pertinent origin for today’s “antisemitism of the left,” lies with Stalin’s government which employed antisemitism beginning in the 1920s. As Trotsky recounted of the government’s repression against the Left Opposition:

    “[T]he bureaucracy purposely emphasised the names of Jewish members of casual and secondary importance. This was quite openly discussed in the party, and, back in 1925, the Opposition saw in this situation the unmistakable symptom of the decay of the ruling clique” (67).

    Surprisingly, Randall’s historical summary skips over virtually the entire 1930s and 1940s, despite these being crucial decades of Stalinist antisemitism. By 1931, the Communist International opportunistically supported Hitler, as summarized by the slogan “After Hitler, our turn,” reflecting at best an extreme insensitivity to the fate of German Jewry. As German antifascists complained at the time, “Without Stalin, no Hitler.” Randall does not mention the 1939 Hitler-Stalin pact which enabled the Second World War, and under which the USSR granted Germany the use of the Kola Peninsula as a secret naval base. Nor does Randall mention that Stalin in 1940 sought to formally join the Axis powers, only abandoning the idea because Hitler required him to be more a junior partner than an equal.

    Although Randall mentions a number of infamous incidents of Stalinist antisemitism–the 1948 assassination of Jewish Anti-Fascist Committee head Shloyme Mikhoels and subsequent forced dissolution of the organization, the 1952 Slansky Trial, and the 1951-3 Doctor’s Plot–he leaves out the most ominous part of the latter episode. There is strong evidence that Stalin planned, until his death, to mass deport Jews to concentration camps. As evidence of this plan, historian Jonathan Brent cites “documents dated February 1953 authorizing the construction of four new concentration camps in Soviet Asia confirm[ing] that Soviet authorities were preparing for a large influx of new political prisoners at a time when few remained after World War II.”

    Randall is surely familiar with this history, but he speeds ahead to the 1950s and especially 1960s when the Soviet Union shifted from openly attacking Jews per se to attacking “Zionists.” Doing so, he tends to overstate the centrality of anti-Zionism in Stalinist antisemitism and its legacies on the Left. After all, as Randall points out, the Soviet Union held a pro-Zionist position in 1948. The Soviet bloc, through Czechoslovakia, supplied crucial arms to the Zionist paramlitary force known as the Haganah, and the Soviet Union was the first country in the world to diplomatically recognize Israel. When the United Nations General Assembly passed Resolution 194, securing Palestinians’ right of return, Moscow and the entire Soviet bloc voted against it. In 1949, Soviet-controlled Poland repressed and dissolved the anti-Zionist Jewish Labour Bund, almost a year before it dissolved Zionist organizations. While Stalinism flipped between supporting and opposing Zionism, its antisemitism remained consistent.

    Clearly, the Soviet campaign against Zionism in the late 1960s and 1970s contained much blatant antisemitism, and Randall is right to condemn it. One would read in the Soviet press, for example, “The peculiarities of Jewish religion are hatred of mankind, preaching genocide, cultivating a love of power, and glorifying criminal means of achieving power.” The problem isn’t an opposition to the Jewish religion, which is to be expected from a staunchly atheist perspective, but it’s the singling out of Judaism for alleged “peculiarities.” Randall quotes an official Soviet denunciation of a global “monopoly bourgeoisie of Jewish origin,” a formulation that resembles the shadowy networks alleged in the Protocols of the Elders of Zion (76). It’s important to emphasize that this antisemitism was imported from Moscow’s earlier era, including its pro-Zionist period, and not from the Palestinians’ struggle.

    We can contrast Moscow’s antisemitic rhetoric of the period with the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO)’s rejection of antisemitism. In 1970, the PLO went so far as to publish a book defending the Talmud and debunking common antisemitic myths. As Yasser Arafat famously informed the United Nations in 1974, the Palestinians’ enemy “has never been the Jew, as a person, but racist Zionism and aggression.” The PLO officially maintained since the late 1960s (admittedly in outward-facing English-language documents) that Israeli Jews had acquired a right to stay and be equal citizens of a decolonized Palestine.8 Such facts should confirm what Palestinians themselves have long insisted, that their struggle against Zionism is rooted not in antisemitism but in principles of liberty and equality. This is not to deny antisemitic tendencies within the struggle, including within the leadership. However, when the Soviet Union made anti-Zionism a central campaign in the 1960s, and when it attached highly antisemitic motifs to this campaign, it opportunistically adopted and distorted a movement it had previously betrayed.

    Parallel to how Sri Lankan-Indian author Rohini Hensman rejects a pseudo-anti-imperialism that supports Russian and Chinese imperialism, I propose we denounce the “pseudo-anti-Zionism” that only opposes Zionism for reasons that are opportunistic, campist, and ultimately reversible. Were the geopolitical situation to change, the campist Left would determine their stance based on the world chess game rather than actual solidarity with Palestinians. One giveaway is the campists’ indifference to the thousands of Palestinians murdered by Bashar al-Assad. Another is that Communist Parties worldwide, including the UK’s (96) and China’s, advocate a two-state solution which preserves a Zionist state.

    I’ve often been told that antisemitism doesn’t exist on the Left or that it’s not important to analyze. Open-minded readers looking for present-day examples are likely to be persuaded by Randall’s presentation. Some of his examples, coming mainly from the British Left, might seem insignificant or even misplaced in isolation, but they comprise a worrying trend when observed altogether. It must be emphasized, though, that that the UK Labour Party and its 2019 candidate Jeremy Corbyn supported a two-state solution, and therefore their entanglements with antisemitism cannot be blamed on anti-Zionism.

    The fact that Labour’s antisemitism problem under Corbyn’s leadership has been wildly exaggerated does not mean that there was no problem. The most obscene antisemitism was online, with party members posting about “zioscum…behind all the conflict on the planet” and “Jews’ deceitful infiltration of UK’s politics” (39). But the problem extended offline with, for example, a party branch in 2018 voting down a motion condemning the recent Pittsburgh synagogue shooting. Branch members offered the reasoning, which at best was highly insensitivie just after the murder of 11 Jews, that there was too much focus on “antisemitism this, antisemitism that.” The problem also extended higher up in the party, with Corbyn’s advisor Chris Williamson defending numerous hardcore antisemites such as the blogger Vanessa Beeley who has claimed “Zionists rule France” and, bizarrely, that Kristallnacht was a “Mossad false flag.” Williamson also defended Gilad Atzmon before implausibly claiming he’d been ignorant of the activist’s well-known record of antisemitism including promoting Holocaust skepticism and the Protocols of the Elders of Zion. Another high-profile British Leftist, sociologist David Miller accuses most of organized Jewry, even groups with very indirect connections to Israel, of belonging to a nefarious Zionist network that he singles out as “the enemy of world peace” (23).9

    Demonstrating the frequent entanglements between the Left’s versions of antisemitism and Islamophobia, the same campists who dabble in antisemitism also tend to support the repression of Syria’s and Xinjiang’s Muslim populations. Miller and Beeley collaborate in a Working Group on Syria that defends the Assad regime and smears Syrian civilians and the first-responder group, the White Helmets, as “jihadists.” Beeley’s Assadist propaganda has been published on various leftist websites including Counterpunch and Black Agenda Report, which have also boosted classic antisemitic tropes of exaggerated Jewish power by claiming that the United States is “a puppet state of the Israeli government” and “[t]he Israeli government tells the American government and by extension, the American people, what they will do and when they will do it.” Williamson shares campist views on Syria, as does Seamus Milne who, as Corbyn’s spokesperson, obscenely told the press that there was too much attention on Russian war crimes in Syria.10

    Even if we might grant that Jeremy Corbyn as Labour Party leader had entirely good intentions, we would still have to admit that he made an astounding number of missteps, including: attending Holocaust-deniers’ events, calling Hamas and Hezbollah his “friends,” and defending a mural demonizing hook-nosed Jewish bankers plotting in front of an Illuminati symbol.

    The fact that Randall mainly condemns an overall discourse, rather than condemning individuals, helps a critical reader forgive his handful of missed targets.11 I’ll focus on London’s former mayor Ken Livingstone, who inaccurately claimed that Hitler “was supporting Zionism before he went mad and ended up killing six million Jews.” To be sure, it’s an irresponsible and untrue claim. But to his credit, Livingstone later clarified, correctly, that the historian Lenni Brenner has documented a real history of Zionist collusions with antisemites and fascists. Examples include the Ha’avara, the Kastner affair, the Stern Gang’s 1941 offers to fight on the Nazis’ side of the war, U.S. Zionist leaders’ deprioritzation of rescue, and the State of Israel’s alliance with antisemitic heads of state such as Galtieri, Orbán, and Trump and with antisemitic activists including John Hagee. Though Randall dismisses such collusions as “incidental examples” (82), I see them as a logical extension of mainstream Zionist priorities, exemplified by Ben-Gurion’s infamous claim, “If I knew that it was possible to save all the [Jewish] children in Germany by transporting them to England, but only half by transporting them to Palestine, I would choose the second.”12

    For Jewish Liberation

    “Who cares lol,” commented a member of the Democratic Socialists of America (DSA)’s Jewish Solidarity Caucus when I posted an exchange by Randall and David Renton about Left antisemitism. Randall gives seven important reasons (205-207) why we should care about Left antisemitism, but I will give just two of my own. Firstly, as I’ve said already, antisemitism hurts the Left’s emancipatory project by distracting us from opposing capitalism and its entangled oppressions. Because capitalism functions in a highly abstract manner, sometimes theorized as an “invisible hand” or “law of value,” antisemites from Left to Right take a shortcut and identify a more personalized target.13 Jews are seen, as critical theorist Werner Bonfeld summarizes, as a “puppet-master of the world.”

    Secondly, antisemitism should be opposed since it’s a type of oppression. I depart here from Randall who considers today’s antisemitism to be merely a type of bigotry. He explains, “I believe that for the conception of oppression to have meaning, it must refer to something structural and systemic–a relation of power, not only speech or ideas” (175). I think that Randall can only come to this conclusion by focusing narrowly on the immediate present rather than looking at the longue durée. Although Randall admits that “most Jews’ integration into whiteness is both recent and precarious,” (177) I wish he would go further and acknowledge that antisemitism is a “cyclical” oppression.

    As The Past Didn’t Go Anywhere by April Rosenblum points out, antisemitism “moves in cycles” and, prior to massacres and expulsions, Jews have often tended to be “one of society’s most successful, comfortable, well-integrated minorities.” The precarity of white Jews’ whiteness has been stressed by anti-racist researches including Eric Ward, Karen Brodkin, Leo Ferguson, Dove Kent, and Keren Soffer Sharon. Jewish liberation needs to strive for a more permanent liberation, and it requires abolishing whiteness rather than assimilating into it.

    Interpreting antisemitism as a form of oppression helps us situate it more organically into a broader anti-oppression framework. An understanding of antisemitism’s entanglement with other oppressions can help us explain how antisemitism has long interlocked with Islamophobia since the Crusades, how Spanish anti-Jewish limpieza de sangre statutes helped construct today’s racial capitalism, and how antisemitism lies at the center of today’s white nationalism. It assists us in connecting far-Right Islamophobia to antisemitism, and understanding why, for example, the 2018 Pittsburgh synagogue shooter Robert Bower had written on social media, “It’s the filthy EVIL jews Bringing the Filthy EVIL Muslims into the Country!!”

    Situating anti-antisemitism firmly in an anti-oppressive framework can help us focus on how colonialism of Third and Fourth World peoples ultimately comes back to hurt the First World’s marginalized minorities including Jews. The Nazis repeated tactics from Germany’s 1904-1908 racial genocide against Southwest Africa’s Herero and Nama, and Hitler studied European settler-colonialism and segregation in North America. A decolonial approach to uprooting antisemitism should include Aime Cesaire’s analysis: “[Hitler] applied to Europe colonialist procedures which until then had been reserved for the Arabs of Algeria, the ‘coolies’ of India, and the ‘n***ers’ of Africa.” Although Randall aspires to oppose all colonialism and oppression, he cannot do so because he strongly rejects an “absolute” anti-Zionist politics (104). It is from here that I must start disagreeing with him more strongly.

    Smash Zionism, Not Israel

    Early in his monograph, Randall approvingly quotes my 2021 New Politics article, “In Support of Joint Struggle” which distinguished between anti-Israelism and anti-Zionism. As I understand it, anti-Israelism is opposition to the people of Israel, whereas anti-Zionism is opposition to a Jewish supremacist state within historic Palestine. I identify as anti-Zionist but not anti-Israeli in the same sense as I identify as anti-Hindutva but not anti-India, as anti-Nazi but not anti-German.14 Randall includes a block quote from my article:

    “Anti-Israelism is [musician] Roger Waters conjuring up a false story about Israeli concert attendees failing to applaud his call for regional peace. Anti-Israelism is […] Socialist Worker declaring ‘unconditional’ support for Hamas, a far-right group that intentionally kills Israeli civilians. Anti-Israelism is [feminist academic] Judith Butler bizarrely remarking, ‘Yes, understanding Hamas and Hezbollah as social movements that are progressive, that are on the left, that are part of a global left, is extremely important.’ Maybe more Israeli Jews would join the global left if they felt as invited as their theocratic enemies are.”

    I’m flattered to be quoted, and I partially agree with Randall that it’s “precisely at the point of ‘conflation’ of anti-Zionism with ‘anti-Israelism’ that contemporary left antisemitism resides” (33). I’m not sure it’s helpful to call all anti-Israelism antisemitic, although it should be opposed for strategic and ethical reasons. It would be an unhelpful stretch, for example, to call Butler’s absurd comment antisemitic, since she did immediately follow it with an appeal toward “being critical of certain dimensions of” these groups.15

    I’m concerned that, at times, Randall himself conflates anti-Israelism with anti-Zionism, wrongly seeing all maximalist or “absolute” forms of anti-Zionism as necessarily anti-Israel. When he denounces the Left’s “Smash Israel” tendencies (138), he sometimes seems to include not only armed attacks on Israeli civilians but even the BDS movement that adopts highly principled and life-respecting means and ends.16 Randall writes that anti-Zionism becomes antisemitic at “the point at which it insists Israel’s very existence, not merely its policies, is illegitimate” (33-34). The problem is that “Israel” can refer to either a nation or a state, and Randall is ambiguous about which one he means.

    Before proceeding, I want to clarify that I’m using today’s standard definition of “Zionism” to mean, specifically, the political Zionism founded by Theodor Herzl and Christian cleric William Hechler.17 As Randall puts it, “Zionism’s central policy aim” is “the realisation of Jewish nationhood in the form of an independent state in historic Palestine” (19). The definition of Zionism may have once been much more open, with bi-nationalist Zionists like Martin Buber and Hannah Arendt being included in the fold. Today, however, those viewpoints are widely considered anti-Zionist since they oppose an exclusive Jewish state.

    Randall is correct that it would be unreasonable to expect Israeli Jewry, uniquely among nations, to give up their national identity. But their status as a nation does not give them a right to statehood. I would be supportive of transforming the land of Canaan into a democratic country dually named Palestine/Israel, and I would be supportive of Israeli Jews continuing to speak Hebrew and identify as Israeli as one nationality in a plurinationalist society that also includes Palestinian Arabs, Druze, Bedouins, and others. And I agree with the Israeli socialist organization Matzpen’s historic call for “a de-Zionization of Israel and its integration in a socialist Middle Eastern union.” Typically, Zionists who hear my position conclude that I’m “anti-Israel.” They’re right insofar as they mean I’m against the current state of Israel. In fact, I’m against all states. But I’m not against the Israeli country or nation.

    Unfortunately, Randall suggests that in almost all cases it’s antisemitic to oppose the existence of the state (not just the country) of Israel. This can be seen, first of all, in his repeated insistence that all nations including Israeli Jews have a right to a nation-state. A consistent internationalism, he wrongly contends, “supports the right of national groups to self-determination and, if they wish, to statehood” (139). Repeatedly, he defends the state of Israel’s “existence” and “right to exist” (33, 107). Although he’s justified to denounce as antisemitic the insistence that all nations except for Israeli Jews have a right to a state, I don’t think that very many Leftists actually hold such position.

    Even putting aside the strict anti-nationalists and Anarchists whom Randall claims are “highly minoritarian” within the Left (121), the fact is that none of the major Marxist positions on nationalism, including Lenin’s, Luxemburg’s, and the Austromarxists’, said that all nations have an unqualified right to a state. Even the Left-liberal position doesn’t say this, for reasons Peter Beinart puts succinctly in “There is No Right to a State”:

    “Create a state that privileges one people in a territory that contains multiple peoples, and you’ll likely deny members of those other peoples both the individual right to be treated equally under the law and the collective right to run their own affairs. For that reason, most political theorists insist that national self-determination cannot mean the right to your own state.”

    Because of these conflicting claims, a logically consistent version of national self-determination should be based on a principle of true self-governance rather than governance over others. The late ex-Panther Russell Maroon Shoatz helpfully elaborated a theory of “Inter-Communal Self-Determination” that, disavowing any nation’s unilateral control over a large area, envisions a “mosaic” in which each community governs itself. The communities, overlapping in membership and geographically, cooperate to promote sustainability and peace. I also refer to Kahala Johnson and Kathy Ferguson’s exploration of Indigenous and Anarchist understandings of “sovereignty” as “a plural and contested set of possibilities” based on principles of “autonomous communities, integral living, and prefigurative politics.”18

    Part of smashing Zionism has to involve linking it to struggles against other forms of statist nationalism. Randall quotes anti-fascist researcher Spencer Sunshine: “The important thing here is not to say, ‘Israel is not as bad as other countries, so it needs to be left off the hook’ … [T]he question is ‘Why is Israel on the hook when other countries are not?’” (115). Exactly, we need to put all countries on the hook. While opposing Israeli apartheid, we need to also oppose U.S. apartheid, for example.19 While opposing Israel’s war crimes, we need to oppose the war crimes of its immediate neighbor Syria.20 This doesn’t mean we need to employ the same exact strategies and tactics in all situations. Supporting a boycott of Israel doesn’t automatically imply that there’s a moral or strategic necessity to boycott China, for example, although I do think we should honor Uyghurs’ and Tibetans’ calls to boycott the 2022 Beijing Olympic Games. However, supporters of BDS, like myself, should practice some basic self-awareness. It looks downright goofy when we tweet: “If you want to celebrate [the Jewish festival of] Chanuka and support BDS, these candles are made in China – we can’t certify the working conditions unfortunately” (123).

    I’m intrigued but ultimately not convinced by Randall’s defense of That’s Funny author Steve Cohen’s concept of “anti-Zionist Zionism.” Cohen defined it in a 2005 poem that read in part:

    “Yesterday I was an anti-Zionist Zionist/ Today I’m a Zionist anti-Zionist/ Either way it negates the negation/ Of the tribal nation.”

    Resurrecting this formulation, Randall makes a valiant attempt to rescue nuance and sensitivity to the trajectories of two historically oppressed peoples. What it doesn’t offer, however, is clarity. Even Cohen admitted this formulation is meant to “confuse the bastards” (135). A major problem with Cohen’s idea of the “anti-Zionist Zionist” is that it describes as “Zionist” a position that’s not necessarily Zionist at all. This is the belief that Jews should be able to seek refuge in the land of Palestine/Israel, that the country should be what Isaac Deutscher called a “lifeboat” for Jews in an ocean of antisemitism. This position does not require support for a Jewish state!

    In fact, some of the most hardcore anti-Zionists agreed that the land of Palestine/Israel can and should serve be a refuge, ideally one of many, for Jews and other people fleeing oppression. The New York Times reports that Boycott Divestment Sanctions co-founder Omar Barghouti believes a “democratic state could still provide asylum for Jewish refugees, showing ‘some sensitivity to the Jewish experience.’” Such hardcore anti-Zionists as Palestinian intellectual Edward Said, Electronic Intifada co-founder Ali Abunimah, and Al-Haq co-founder Jonathan Kuttab have even said that a single democratic state should maintain Israel’s Law of Return, granting the world’s Jews potential citizenship as long as it doesn’t supplant Palestinians’ own right of return. Even Arafat declared in 1974, “If the immigration of Jews to Palestine had had as its objective the goal of enabling them to live side by side with us, enjoying the same rights and assuming the same duties, we would have opened our doors to them, as far as our homeland’s capacity for absorption permitted.”

    What Arafat touched on is the difference between immigrants and settlers. Ugandan political theorist Mahmood Mamdani distinguishes, “Immigrants come in search of a homeland, not a state; for settlers, there can be no homeland without a state.” Intentions alone are not sufficient to distinguish immigrants from settlers, since most Jews who settled in Palestine after 1923 were probably not ideological Zionists. They were fleeing and leaving antisemitic countries of Europe and the Middle East. Nonetheless, they joined a settler society, rather than struggling to decolonize it, and therefore they became settlers.

    Although external pressure is essential, Moshe Machover convincingly argues that Zionism can’t be overthrown without substantial support from within the Israeli Jewish working class. Therefore, Palestinians and their anti-Zionist accomplices21 need to advance an appealing vision and transnationalist politics that can win over a substantial portion of Israeli Jews.22 Clearly, a principled alternative to pseudo-anti-Zionism and anti-Israelism is needed. Nonetheless, I don’t think “anti-Zionist Zionism” is the answer. What’s needed is a clearer vision that convinces Israeli Jews they can live safely and freely in as a de-Zionized country.

    Beyond Our Comfort Zones

    I mentioned that I bought an extra copy of Randall’s book for my Jewish friends, and I hope it might convince them that, despite antisemitism’s ongoing existence on the Left, we Leftists are at least discussing it and seriously trying to uproot it. In other words, we are getting out of our comfort zones and are trying to engage with mainstream Jews, not just far-Left Jews like myself, but also with liberal Zionist Jews. I can only hope that Zionist Jews will return the favor and will start engaging openly with anti-Zionist voices and ideas, instead of smearing us all as antisemites. At a time when many people seem most comfortable screaming “antisemite” and “Zionist” at each other, Confronting Antisemitism on the Left suggests a healthier approach. Randall argues, “The tools primarily required to conduct that confrontation [with Left antisemitism] are not complaints, suspensions and expulsions but debate, polemic and education” (184). He proposes reading groups, collective education, direct debates, practical solidarity on Palestine/Israel, and reengagement with the Left’s foundational ideals.

    Reading groups and collective education are great ideas, and Randall helpfully recommends Cohen’s 1984 That’s Funny, Rosenblum’s 2007 The Past Didn’t Go Anywhere, and the 2019 Journal of Social Justice issue on “Confronting Antisemitism in the 21st Century.” All three are invaluable resources, but I would recommend starting instead with Jews for Racial and Economic Justice’s Understanding Antisemitism which was written in 2017 by “a multi-racial, multi-ethnic, intergenerational team” of Jews mainly based in New York City. It’s more up to date than Cohen’s and Rosenblum’s resources, and it avoids the “anti-anti-Zionist” leanings of some of the Journal of Social Justice’s contributions. For further reading, I would recommend the American Historical Journal’s 2018 roundtable on “Rethinking Anti-Semitism” which emphasizes antisemitism’s historic entanglement with colonialism, Islamophobia, heteropatriarchy, and Zionism.

    Next, Randall advocates public debates over questions such as, “What is Zionism? What is the real extent of Israel’s power in the world? Should the Israeli-Jewish national group be entitled to self-determination?” These are important topics, but I think it would be useful to broaden the questions. Let’s discuss and debate what is an operable understanding of self-determination that could apply not just to the Middle East’s Jews but also to Kurds and other regional minorities without interfering with Arabs’ self-determination including Palestinians’. How do we apply the same principles in North America? To what extent are the imperialisms of West and East intertwined?

    As forms of practical solidarity on Palestine/Israel, Randall advocates support for a number of Israeli initiatives bringing together Jews and Palestinians in joint struggle for social justice. These include Koah LaOvdim, Standing Together, and Combatants for Peace (200-201). None of these efforts are explcitly anti-Zionist and some take a liberal Zionist position. I would argue, nonetheless, that critical support and friendly critique, rather than hostile opposition, is the best way to encourage their members to move dialectically toward increasingly decolonial positions, as B’Tselem did last year when it finally denounced “A regime of Jewish supremacy from the Jordan River to the Mediterranean Sea.” More radical Israeli groups that one can support include Boycott from Within, Israeli Coalition Against House Demolitions, and +972 Magazine. An important 2021 statement from 1,000 Israeli Jews supported the BDS movement’s demands including Palestinians’ right of return, and called for “decolonization of the region and founding a state of all its citizens.” Another hopeful development has been growing Jewish support for Israel’s Joint List of Israeli-Palestinian political parties. We can hope this support will continue to grow, especially for the secular-democratic Balad Party.

    Finally, Randall advocates reengagement with some of the Left’s fundamental ideas. For instance, this means returning to an old-school “Marxist understanding of capitalism” that targets the whole system rather than just “the 1%” (201). For national questions, he advocates approaches that “emphasise democracy and equal rights” and eschew the “statist left-nationalism” that often predominates today (201-202). These are fine suggestions, but I think that a lot of answers to national questions including the “Jewish question” will be found outside of traditional Marxism, which basically expected Jews to assimilate. Randall embraces Deutscher’s identity of the “non-Jewish Jew” and he envisions a distant future that “fuses what is best in all cultures into a universal synthesis” (227). By contrast, I don’t envision a universal culture but rather a permanently decentralized world interconnected from below, or what the neo-Zapatistas call the “world where many worlds fit.” In a despiritualized and commodity-worshiping world, I’d even argue that the more radical Jewish perspective today isn’t becoming “non-Jewish” but instead embracing a Jewish resurgence. This is not to uphold Judaism’s heteropatriarchal tendencies or even its (mono)theism, but rather to advance its liberatory and ecological principles such as choosing life, loving your neighbor, tikkun olam (repairing the world), bal taschit (not wasting natural resources), tza’ar ba’alei chayim (kindness to animals), and the commandment that “Justice, justice, you shall pursue.”

    Whereas Randall asserts that antisemitism “must be confronted almost exclusively at the level of ideology” (181), I believe that we need to confront it also in material and social-psychological terms. This means, in part, looking at how campist and conspiracist politics, a main source of Left antisemitism and Left-Right overlap, has become a lucrative business and spreads through organizations that are well funded from wealthy rather than grassroots sources. It also means applying Critical Theory’s insights into how authoritarianism, including Left authoritarianism, thrives on destructive urges that need to be strongly countered with what Herbert Marcuse called Eros and what Erich Fromm called biophilia. Thus, while Randall sees the main solution as engaging in intellectual discussion and education, I see an equally important solution as being the creation of a joyful militancy. Basically, we non-campist Leftists need to build a life-affirming alternative–culturally, structurally, and intellectually–to the campists’ activist pseudo-community.

    I’d recommend Confronting Antisemitism on the Left to anyone interested in advanced-level politics around Jewry, antisemitism, Palestine, and Zionism. I’d also point those same readers to important scholarship by Palestinians, such as Noura Erakat’s Justice for Some (Stanford University Press, 2019) and Rashid Khalidi’s The Hundred Year’s War on Palestine (Metropolitan Books, 2020). I’d then point them to the Israeli and American Jewish perspectives offered by Jeff Halper’s Decolonizing Israel, Liberating Palestine (Pluto Press, 2021) and Stan Heller’s Zionist Betrayal of the Jews (SH Books, 2019). If Randall’s right that it’s antisemitic to demand Israeli Jews give up their national identity, then surely it’s even more bigoted when mainstream Zionism demands that Palestinians give up their nationality, despite Palestinians being the land’s clearly oppressed and Indigenous people. The fight against the apartheid state of Israel and the fight against antisemitism are inseparable. As the name of an Israeli Veganarchist group once put it, Jews and other oppressed people are all engaged in “One Struggle” against interlocking dominations.23 In summary, the struggle against antisemitism is a struggle for Jewish liberation, and the struggle for Jewish liberation is a struggle for total liberation.

    An addendum: As I was finalizing this review, I learned that the publisher No Pasaran is apparently run by Baron Jonathan Mendelsohn, a centrist-Zionist philanthropist and life peer in the House of Lords. I also learned that fellow No Pasaran author Ben Freeman appears to share some of the Menachem Begin Heritage Center’s Likudnik politics.

    This information will surely turn away some potential anti-Zionist readers from Randall’s book, if they haven’t already been turned away by Randall’s association with the Alliance for Workers’ Liberty. That would be unfortunate. Randall is an independent thinker whose views are by no means identical with those of Baron Mendelsohn nor with the AWL’s Sean Matgamna.

    I hope that a book on Left antisemitism will one day come from an author and publisher with impeccable anti-Zionist credentials. In the meantime, Randall’s study, for all its serious flaws, is probably the best available book on the subject and deserves to be engaged seriously on its own terms.

    1 Weir’s own source, Israel Shahak, actually referred to the infamous “blood libel” as an “ignorant calumn[y…] propagated by benighted monks in small provincial cities.” Weir also cited historian Alan Toaff who has rejected the claim. Israel Shahak, Jewish History, Jewish Religion: The Weight of Three Thousand Years (London: Pluto Press, 2002), 21.

    2 For example, it’s alleged that New York protesters assaulted a Jewish man, Joseph Borgen, wearing a visible yarmulke, but video footage shows Borgen wearing a hood that would have hidden any yarmulke. Referring to eyewitness testimony, the Twitter account of Outlive Them NYC, (a Jewish-led, anti-fascist group) described the incident as “a Zionist instigating a fight and then crying hate crime.” Friends of a suspect also told the New York Post that Borgen attacked first. It has also been widely reported that protesters threw a firework in a mostly Jewish business district, but as the New York Times reports, “police said they were unsure who had thrown the firework.” Protesters in Los Angeles are accused of assaulting restaurant diners and using antisemitic slurs, but the Forward notes that the facts are still under review. Finally, Jewish Currents reports a claim that “a Jewish couple at a Westlake, Ohio, pro-Palestine rally were allegedly attacked by protestors, has been disputed online: A Twitter user said they attended the rally in question and that the couple actually showed up to attack protestors with a flagpole.”

    3 This remains true even if antisemites identify a minority of “good Jews,” similarly to how Islamophobes identify “good Muslims” and white supremacists have “Black friends.”

    4 I strongly disagree with Randall’s rejection of the so-called “maximal” version of Palestinains’ right of return. First, he says, the inclusion of refugees’ descendants puts the right of return “to a different discourse than a general advocacy of free movement and open borders.” Second, Randall quotes a policy statement saying that a right of return implies “Jews […] be driven out of their homes so that their original Palestinian owners may be housed in them.” I disagree with both claims. It is the United Nations’ standard practice in protracted refugee situations to classify the descendants as refugees. We should advocate an intergenerational right of return for descendants of Palestinian refugees just as fiercely as we advocate it for children of Syrian refugees, for example. The claim that returning Palestinian refugees would necessarily displace Israeli Jews ignores important research suggesting otherwise. As Palestinian advocacy group Badil explains:

    Moreover, it is estimated that in 90% of the communities from which Palestinian refugees originate inside Israel, there is no conflict with existing built-up Jewish communities. In other words, the return of Palestinian refugees would not result in the displacement of the existing Jewish population from their homes and communities. In addition, international law and best practice provide creative solutions enabling refugees to return while maintaining and even developing the existing infrastructure.”

    5 I don’t think Confronting Antisemitism ever defines “the Left,” but I’m using it to describe people who advocate a societal shift toward egalitarianism rather than hierarchy. I’m including Stalinists since they at least claim to believe their strategy will eventually establish a communism in which the state has withered away.

    6 The phrase began historically, and continues to be used prominently, as a call for a secular democracy that treats Jews equally to everyone else in Palestine/Israel. Therefore, it cannot reasonably be called antisemitic. However, I understand why some Jews are uncomfortable with the phrase due to its similarity to the antisemitic refrain that Israeli Jews be “thrown ino the sea.” Next time I chant “From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free” at a protest, I plan to follow my friend Stanley Heller’s advice and add a clarifying second line, “From the river to the sea, justice and equality.”

    7 For a theory of state capitalism, I recommend Wayne Price’s “The nature of the ‘communist’ states.”

    8 Additionally, the PLO’s high-ranking Jewish official, Ilan Halevi, wrote a well-regarded monograph on Jewish history from ancient to modern times.

    9 When anti-Zionist Jews have dared to criticize Miller’s scholarship as “embarrassingly conspiratorial” and mildly antisemitic, Miller’s supporters have denoucned even these anti-Zionist Jews as a “fake Left” and “scummy.”

    10 As Rohini Hensman responds, “the remark shows little compassion for the Syrians being killed and driven out of their homes.”

    11 For example, in a context of analyzing her own mixed ancestry, the Black-Jewish activist Jackie Walker irresponsibly wrote that Jews “were amongst ‘the chief financiers of the sugar and slave trade.’” A great overstatement, yes. But was it antisemitic as Randall asserts? In emphasizing its historical falsity, Randall cites a source which actually states the following: Jews’ role in the slave trade “was a considerable one during the formative years of the trade, in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries” before becoming very minor in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Not mentioning that Walker is Black and Jewish, and not admitting that there was more than a kernel of truth to her overstatement, Randall fails to give Walker the nuance that he rightly requests be given toward Jewish Zionists.

    12 Of course, many Zionists opposed these sentiments, going so far as to assassinate Kastner for example, and some Zionists herorically fought alongside anti-Zionist Jews in anti-Nazi revolts. Moreover, a discussion of Zionist antisemitism should be balanced by a recognition of pro-Nazi beliefs among many Palestinians historically, some 60 percent according to a 1941 Zionist intelligence brief.

    For more on Zionist collusion with antisemitism, see Stanley Heller’s Zionist Betrayal of the Jews (SH Books, 2019), reviewed by Donna Joss for New Politics, and Lenni Brenner’s Zionism in the Age of the Dictators (OOOA, 2014), the 1984 edition available online from The Struggle. Although Brenner is sometimes portrayed as a paradigmatic Left antisemite, he in fact has spoken out strongly against antisemitism and was once enlisted by Edward Said to combat Holocaust denial in Arab societies. He was the one who first convinced me of the futility of the “Khazar hypothesis,” and he taught me the importance of acknowledging and condemning the antisemitism of Jerusalem’s Grand Mufti. He has publicly written strongly against the antisemitism of the Institute for Historical Research and Nation of Islam. It’s true that, due to his old-school Trotskyism, Brenner has used unacceptably pejorative language about communities he considered insufficiently “modern,” including those of his own former religion, orthodox Judaism, and also Arab peasants whom he alleges had a “low level of culture.” He has also made remarks to me that show he does not necessarily share my enthusiasm for the radical “resurgence” of Jewish and Native American traditions for anti-authoritarian purposes. Brenner’s unfortunate ultra-modernism is a product of his orthodox Trotskyism, and he is no more antisemitic than he is anti-Palestinian or anti-Indigenous.

    13 Emphasizing capitalism’s abstract quality is not to ignore the role of state violence in creating and perpetually maintaining supposedly “free” markets. There are real people who authorize state violence to keep the system going, and it’s true that a significant minority of those people are Jewish. The problem is not who is in positions of state and corporate power; the problem is the system which allows those positions to exist.

    14 There seems to be no well-known term for opposing U.S. nationalism, but I’m happy to identify as anti-Americanist in reference to the American Legion’s definition of “Americanism” as an unyielding loyalty to the U.S. government and its flag.

    All the same, I wouldn’t call myself anti-American, since I have no interest in abolishing American culture which “race traitor” Noel Ignatiev described as “a mixture of the Yankee, the Indian, and the Negro (with a pinch of ethnic salt).”

    15 I do think Waters has been given at least one too many chances by the Palestine solidarity movement. From his complaints about the “extraordinary power” of the “Jewish lobby,” to vilifying the Star of David, to appearing on Hamas television and using classic antisemitic tropes of a Jewish “puppetmaster.” This is all aside from his reactionary, campist politics on Syria.

    16 Randall’s critique of BDS (121-126) does not engage the movement’s nuances such as its support for engaging Israeli individuals (distinct from Israeli institutions), its cooperation with progressive Jewish organizations worldwide, and its clear rejection of antisemitism.

    17 Hechler authored The Restoration of the Jews to Palestine two years before Herzl’s The Jewish State. Hechler collaborated closely with Herzl, introducing him to dignitaries including German Emperor Wilhelm II and attending the First Zionist Congress. Historical preservationist Jerry Klinger describes Hechler as “the Christian minister who made Herzl and Political Zionism legitimate.”

    18 This application of self-determination as stateless self-governance has parallels in Rojava’s “democratic confederalism,” although the movement’s upper levels have often failed to uphold their anti-authoritarian ideals. Democratic confederalism’s intellectual founder Abdullah Öcalan has expressed antisemitic ideas in his writing.

    19 I added the U.S. section to Wikipedia’s page on the crime of apartheid. As of January 27, 2022, it is still on the page.

    20 Palestinain Anarchist Budour Hassan’s “How the Syrian Revolution has Transformed Me” offers a beautiful vision of what such transnational solidarity can look like. I was heartbroken to see the BDS leadership pass on an opportunity, in June 2021, to voice solidarity with the people of Syria’s war-torn Idlib province.

    21 I use the term “accomplices” with a nod to Indigenous Action’s essay, “Accomplices Not Allies: Abolish the Ally-Industrial Complex.”

    22 An anti-Zionist reader of my draft rightly said that I was placing too heavy a burden on Palestinians. That’s all the more reason for external supporters to perform this heavy theoretical lifting. We should be very grateful that Palestinians themselves have already done essential theorizing on this matter, some of which I cite and link to in this review.

    23 One Struggle morphed into Anarchists Against the Wall in the 2000s.

  • Mike Parker: Socialist, Labor Educator, Political Activist – 1940-2022

    Mike Parker: Socialist, Labor Educator, Political Activist – 1940-2022

    Mike Parker spent his entire adult life engaged in movements and organizations that he believed would advance the struggle for the creation of a democratic socialist society. In the 1960s he was first a leader of the Student Peace Union, then in California of the Free Speech Movement and the Peace and Freedom Party. In the 1970s he advised The Red Tide, youth group of the International Socialists. In the 1980s and 90s working with Labor Notes he played a central role as an educator in the labor movement, while in the 2000s he became a strategist for the independent Richmond Progressive Alliance in California. As speaker, writer, and organizer, over the course of his life Mike influenced thousands, imbuing them with the idea that they could build strong democratic organizations capable of fighting the corporations, challenging government policies, and making the world a better place.

    Young Peoples Socialist League and Student Peace Union

    Mike came to socialism through his family first; both of his parent were active in the Socialist Party in Cleveland where he grew up. Not only Mike but also two of his three brothers became active socialists and labor activists, Bill serving as the president of a United Auto Workers local in Detroit and Bob as the president of a United Steel Workers local in Cleveland. If Mike received his socialist ideas from his parents, he made a version of those ideas his own while a student activist in the early 1960s.

    While at the University of Chicago, in 1959 Mike joined the Young Peoples Socialist League (YPSL) from which he imbibed three principles that would stay with him all of his life. First, the idea that the working class would be central to the fight for socialism, and therefore one had to support the union movement. Second, the notion that the working class needed its own political party, independent of the capitalist parties. And third, the belief that democracy was absolutely essential to socialism. Mike came to think of himself as a revolutionary socialist, and these three principles would be recurring themes of his life’s activity.

    Parker became the national secretary, the top officer, of the Student Peace Union and encouraged other YPSL members to join. The SPU organized against the development of nuclear arms, with the slogan, “No Test! East or West!” that is, no testing either by the United States or the Soviet Union. That slogan reflected the YPSL’s “Third Camp” socialist position, that is opposition to both capitalist and the totalitarian Communist social systems. SPU argued that it would take a mass movement to force an end to nuclear testing and the elimination of nuclear arms. As one of its national leaders and its principal organizer, Mike succeeded in building an organization that by 1962 had 5,000 members, making it the largest leftist movement in the country at the time. At the same time, Mike also helped to recruit the leading members of the SPU to the YPSL. It was also in 1962 that Mike and fellow YPSL comrade Bernie Sanders were arrested during a civil rights demonstration.

    Just about that time a struggle between two factions broke out within the YPSL over the question of political action. Michael Harrington and the “realignment tendency” argued for work in the Democratic Party, believing that the civil rights movement and the progressive labor leaders like Walter Reuther of the United Auto Workers could “realign” the Democrats and transform them into a working-class party. Mike Parker and his political partner Joel Geier argued that workers needed their own party, a labor party. The labor party tendency had a strong base in the SPU, so Harrington and the realignment group tried to organize a merger between the SPU and the larger and more moderate National Committee for a Sane Nuclear Policy (SANE). Parker defeated the merger, but by then it hardly mattered. After the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962 and then the 1963 Nuclear Test Ban Treaty, the SPU went into decline, as did YPSL, both consumed by the intense faction fight between the realignment and labor party tendencies. But by then, everything was changing: the Vietnam War had begun to become a national issue, Students for a Democratic Society (SDS) had begun to grow rapidly, and the New Left was emerging.

    The Free Speech Movement and the Peace and Freedom Party

    Mike Parker and his friend Geier, both of whom had been students at the University of Chicago, now moved to the University of California at Berkeley where Mike studied political science.  He and Geier began to work with a small group there led by the librarian and longtime socialist intellectual Hal Draper. Twenty-four of them, mostly former YPSL members, formed the Independent Socialist Club (ISC) in 1964. Members of the ISC were active in the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE), which was leading fights for equal employment opportunities in the Bay Area. Responding to pressure from Bay Area business interests, the University administration attempted to clamp down on groups like CORE that were distributing literature and collecting funds for civil rights organizations. In October 1964, Jack Weinberg, a member of CORE and the ISC, was passing out literature when police attempted to arrest him, but three thousand students surrounded the police car in which he was being held. That launched the Free Speech Movement (FSM), one of the first and largest of the student movements on campuses across the country.

    Mike was elected by the ISC to be one of its two members on the executive committee of the FSM, where he played a role developing the movement’s strategies and tactics as it fought throughout 1964 and 195 against the restrictions on advocacy. The FSM organized a hugely successful student strike and the occupation of Sproul Hall, the administration building, which was met by the biggest mass arrest in U.S. history until that time. Mike, unlike Weinberg, Draper, or the movement’s foremost leader Mario Savio, was not a public figure, but typical of his organizing style, he worked behind the scenes to provide support and advice.

    Mike was involved in all the major Bay Area protest movements of the 1960s, including CORE’s mass picketing in Oakland’s Jack London Square in January 1965, where he was arrested, and such militant anti-war actions as Stop the Draft Week in 1967. Mike also organized in support  of the United Farm Workers throughout the 1960s.

    In 1967, the ISC turned its attention to building a new political party that could represent the civil rights and anti-war movements. Joel Geier remembers, “Mike was the crucial person in setting up the Peace and Freedom Party. He was the organizer both in Berkeley and statewide.”  Mike was involved in all that goes into creating a political party, gathering petition signatures, finding candidates, local meetings, state conventions. He also worked closely with Eldridge and Kathleen Cleaver, leaders of the Black Panther Party. Peace and Freedom and the Panthers both organized the campaign to free Huey Newton, the leading Panther organizer who had been arrested after a shootout with police. The California Peace and Freedom Party chose Eldridge Cleaver as its candidate for U.S. president in 1968 and also ran several other Panthers for state and national office.

    The International Socialists and the Red Tide

    In 1969, Mike was a founding member of International Socialists (IS), which succeeded the ISC and soon had about 300 members in several cities, though mostly on the coasts. The IS held discussions from 1969 to 1971 about how to take socialist ideas into the working class. It was decided that ISers who were able to should move to Midwestern cities, get jobs in heavy industry, and become members of the country’s most important labor unions. Several members of the Berkeley branch then left to move to Chicago and Detroit, but Mike stayed in the Bay Area for a few more years as a leader of the branch. Technology had always fascinated Mike, and in that period, to make a living he became a television repairperson.

    In this period, Mike worked with the high school age students of The Red Tide. The group had begun in Los Angeles and later merged with the Contra Costa Socialist Coalition; then it was refounded in 1974 as the youth organization of the International Socialists, establishing branches in Detroit and other Midwest cities. Mike talked with the group’s members about capitalism and socialism, racism and Third World revolutions. Red Tide member Larry Bradshaw, then known as Bushy, remembered Mike as a mentor who offered, “light-handed leadership,” helping the young people “in the building and sustaining of an organization of revolutionaries.” Not long ago he wrote a letter to Mike in which he said, “You imbued in me, at an early age, the core premise of socialism from below; socialism is the self-emancipation of the working class — or it is nothing.” He added, “To this day, I understand the Democratic Party is a party of war, imperialism and structural racism; that it is a party of capital, not a vehicle or not even tool or means for ending exploitation and oppression.”

    Mike played a key role in a debate within the International Socialists about how to organize in the working class. A faction called the Revolutionary Tendency, influenced by Leon Trotsky’s Transitional Program, argued that the IS should develop a full, written program for the unions in which it was involved. Parker argued that that was a sectarian approach and suggested instead that socialists, guided by the goal of working-class revolution, do not need a paper program but rather long- and short-term tasks and the ability to continually reevaluate the situation. Socialist activists should be guided by workers’ experience and consciousness in fighting the bosses, challenging the labor bureaucracy, and arguing against the idea that capitalism can be reformed. Mike’s arguments helped  defeat that sectarian faction and made it possible for the IS to go on to do important labor organizing work in the auto, steel, telephone, and trucking industries.

    That faction fight was over, but Mike felt it was important to clarify some of the organization’s fundamental positions, so he wrote a long document—practically an outline for a book—on the question of the so-called Communist countries. He wanted to address several important issues: What is socialism? What is internationalism? And what is leadership? In his document he explained in great detail the origins and functioning of the bureaucratic collectivist, totalitarian Soviet Communist society. He argued that the Soviet Union was not socialist, but rather a new form of class society ruled by the Communist Party bureaucrats who exploited the workers. He rejected the “enemy of my enemy is my friend” argument now called “campism.” He explained that though the Soviet Union opposed the United States and Western capitalism, it could not be supported because it behaved in ways similar to capitalism both within Russia and as an imperial power in the world. He called rather for solidarity with workers’ struggles for democracy and better lives in those Communist societies as well as in the West.

    The United Auto Workers Union and the Rank-and-File Strategy

    In the mid-1970s, Mike moved to Detroit where he got a job working at Chrysler’s Warren Stamping plant, which employed several thousand workers. He generally worked as an electrician both there and later at Ford’s famous River Rouge plant. At Warren Stamping he was elected as a delegate to the UAW convention but on another occasion was disappointed after failing to win election to the position of committeeperson. He also later worked as a contractor repairing and installing machinery, including, ironically, installing robots that were replacing workers. He believed that job gave him insight into how unions should negotiate for control over the introduction of new technology in the workplace.

    More important than Mike’s role as an activist in his plant was his work to educate and train workers to fight the employers. In the 1980s, employers began to introduce what was called Team Concept or Quality Circles. Taking advantage of unions’ failure to listen to workers and help them to improve their work lives, the companies began to step in. Workers were told that the company wanted their collaboration to make better products more efficiently and safely.  Managers now said to workers, “We’d like to hear your ideas.” Many union leaders and members welcomed the new approach.

    When Mike heard this, it reminded him of a college course he had taken back in the early 1960s about “brainwashing,” which, at the height of the Cold War, was then a hot topic. How, wondered U.S. government officials, had the North Koreans succeeded in convincing U.S. prisoners of war to collaborate and in some cases even defect? How, Mike now wondered, had the companies convinced workers to collaborate with them, even though it often meant working faster, often with fewer workers, and earning the bosses more money.

    Mike  examined the Quality of Work Life movement, combining a study of corporate literature, his own shopfloor experience, and discussions with workers. In 1985 Labor Notes published his book Inside the Circle: A Union Guide to Quality of Work Life. He explained that workers were attracted to such programs because, they appealed to “workers’ best instincts—to do a good job, to be part of a group, to make a contribution.” QWL  challenged the idea that unions best represented  workers’ interests in the workplace. “The main point of quality of work life,” Parker wrote, “is to convince workers that their security and future are tied to the success of the company (or plant or department) instead of to their union—hardly the way to build labor solidarity throughout an entire industry.”

    Mike pointed out how companies using Team Concept tried to clean up and clear out the plants, getting rid of excess parts and scrap, going to just-in-time delivery of parts to the workers’ machines, so that managers could see more clearly what each worker was doing and what all of the workers were doing. In the early days workers were invited to activate a cord or button, called the andon cord to stop production and warn managers of problems on the line. All of this, however, was used to make the system more effective and to get workers to perform more efficiently, putting them under greater stress.

    Labor Notes organized “Team Concept Schools” where Parker, along with fellow IS member and Labor Notes editor Jane Slaughter, discussed the pros and cons of Team Concept with workers from a variety of industries and unions. At the time, these programs were often called “Japanese management,” because they had been developed at Toyota. But Mike and Jane rejected that name, pointing out that they had been adopted and further developed by corporations around the world. They called Team Concept and QWL “management by stress.”

    In 1992, Parker developed this critique further in another book, Choosing Sides: Unions and the Team Concept, co-authored with Slaughter. As Jane Slaughter said, “Mike’s analysis of lean production and labor management cooperation was brilliant and not what anybody else was doing. It won enormous attention from union people and academics.”

    Mike was always an amusing and engaging speaker who often spoke through parables, using stories to illustrate his points. He was also a believer in the Socratic method, frequently doing less talking than questioning, because he believed that, asked the right questions, workers would figure out on their own what was wrong with the company’s ideas of the team and quality.

    Mike’s political tradition had always emphasized the idea that it was necessary to build rank-and-file movements to fight for workers because labor union officials could not be relied upon to do so. At the heart of this was the notion of democracy both in the union and in the workplace. In 1998, Mike took this up in another book, Democracy Is Power: Rebuilding Unions from the Bottom Up (1999), co-authored with Labor Notes staffer Martha Gruelle. Mike’s classes at Labor Notes conferences and schools and his book influenced thousands of union officers, stewards and rank-and-filers.

    When the International Socialists merged with other left groups to form Solidarity in 1986, Mike was a founding member. Throughout their years in Detroit, Mike and his wife Margaret, whose political activism paralleled Mike’s, were known for their generosity, opening their home to meetings of socialists, labor union activists, and many others. They hosted the first annual Superbowl/Anti-Superbowl, for fans and not-fans, later carried on by others in their activist community after they left. At home, Mike exercised on his Nordic Track machine and spent time with Margaret and their daughter Johanna.

    The Richmond Progressive Alliance and DSA

    In 2007, Mike and Margaret left Detroit and returned to the Bay Area, buying a house in Richmond. They discovered there that a group of community activists had created an independent political organization called the Richmond Progressive Alliance (RPA), which was fighting the powerful Chevron oil company. RPA had even succeeded in electing the mayor, Gayle McLaughlin. Mike and Margaret joined the RPA and Mike became one of the party’s principal strategists. In 2016 the RPA won a five-person supermajority on the seven-member  city council. B K Williams of RPA said, “Mike really held the group together. He mentored me and everyone else who came along. He deepened people’s politics, knowledge, skills, and acumen.”

    With the Bernie Sanders campaign in 2016, the Democratic Socialists of America began to grow rapidly, Mike and Margaret joined when they saw that it was attracting large number of young people to socialism. Mike accepted DSA’s strategy of running candidates in the Democratic Party, but just as throughout his earlier life, he continued to believe that it was necessary to overthrow capitalism, that the Democratic as well as the Republican parties served the capitalist class, and that the working class needed to organize its own political party. As he said in a recent interview published by the Bread and Roses caucus in its paper The Call, “This organization [DSA] needs to make clear that the enemy is not just Republicans but capitalism, and that the capitalist class exerts influence through the Democratic Party too. So, number one, we need to create that kind of understanding. For now, we can do that without having a formal, legal party, but eventually we will need one.”

    “I was very lucky to befriend Mike Parker at a time when I really needed his practical wisdom,” said Natalie Miridi, who served on the DSA National Political Committee. “Although most people typically associate him with Labor Notes, Solidarity, and his books, I also credit him with helping DSA through our growing pains and several very difficult years between 2017 and 2019. He gave me advice on many phone calls which I dearly needed (even though it almost always started with, ‘you’re really not going to like this’) and could not get from many other people in my life,”

    Mike became an informal advisor to many labor union organizers and activists too numerous to name. Pam Galpern, a New York telephone worker and activist in CWA Local 1101, commented, “One of the things that made Mike so special was that he had this tremendous wealth of experiences and wanted to share them, not by talking over people, but by talking with them.”

    If Mike exerted a powerful influence on people, it was in large part because of his confidence. Jane Slaughter observed that Mike acted on this principle: “Decide what you believe and what you’re going to do, and proceed as if you’re right.” If when you proceeded you discovered you had made mistakes, you would adjust course, but it was important to engage. Mike’s political principles, his commitment to the labor movement, his belief in independent political action, and belief in socialism from below were exemplified by his long, full, and exemplary life.

    As Bernie Sanders told Labor Notes, “I knew Mike Parker when I was a student at the University of Chicago in the early 1960s. Mike was a brilliant advocate for workers and unions, and he remained so for the rest of his life. Mike fought tirelessly for human solidarity and a more just and humane world. His life’s work and his dedication should serve as an example for all of us.”

    Lois Weiner, a member of the Berkeley ISC and currently of the New Politics editorial board, said, “I think Mike was remarkable for being an intellectual whose commitment to democracy extended to his way of talking and being with people who didn’t share his views and knew less than he did. He was a lovely human being.”

    In Richmond, just as in Detroit, Mike and Margaret had a wide circle of friends, many from among their fellow political activists. Mike sang for a while in the Contra Costa Chorale and hiked every Wednesday, while Margaret worked in her garden. Margaret died of cancer in January 2020 and Mike died of pancreatic cancer on January 15, 2022. They are survived by their daughter Johanna, Mike’s brothers Bob and Bill Parker, and their many friends.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • Political Change and Continuity in the Dominican Republic

    Political Change and Continuity in the Dominican Republic

    A defaced campaign poster of President Abinader. Credit: Amaury Rodríguez.

    The presidential election of 2020 in the Dominican Republic—which took place within the context of the global economic and health crisis ignited by the Covid-19 pandemic—was the most significant since 1996. Seen as a referendum on democratization and an indictment of never-ending political graft scandals, the electoral defeat of the center-right Partido de la Liberación Dominicana (Dominican Liberation Party, PLD) by the liberal, catchall party Partido Revolucionario Moderno (Revolutionary Modern Party, PRM) marked an abrupt end to its twenty-year political dominance. Except for a short interregnum (2000-2004), the PLD controlled every sphere of political life since 1996 in close alliance with Washington and the Dominican far right led by former collaborators of the Trujillo dictatorship (1930-1961).

    Más de los mismo (more of the same) is a popular expression within Dominican culture, which highlights the lack of political changes. This expression can easily apply to the economic policy guiding the current administration. When Luis Abinader ran as a candidate, he stressed the inequality that plagued the years of governance under the Dominican Liberation Party. His presidential platform highlighted how economic growth benefited the upper middle class and the elite. He also stressed that the Dominican Republic’s development economic model provided economic growth to a small sector of the population. This message, combined with the message of fighting corruption, catapulted Abinader to the office of the presidency in 2020.1

    Nonetheless, when Abinader commenced his presidential term, the first political decision he undertook was to appoint Héctor Valdez Albizu, who was instrumental in implementing the current neoliberal model in the Dominican Republic, president of the Central Bank. This economic model has three critical pillars: a) liberalization of the economy, b) growth via incurring into foreign debt, c) attacking the working class. Thus, the head of the Dominican Central Bank has similar powers as the dominant role other Central Bank presidents played in the hemisphere such as Domingo Felipe Cavallo in Argentina during the process of liberalization of the economy or Alan Greenspan in the United States.

    Indeed, the real process of economic liberalization began when the PLD took power in 1996. At the time, neoliberal policies were sweeping Latin America, and the PLD did not hesitate to jump on the bus of this economic transformation with adverse consequences for the Dominican working class. The first target of the liberalization process was the state-owned enterprises such as the state electric company and others. The narrative used to enchant the population was that privatization would help to eradicate the inefficiency and corruption that plagued those companies. The reality was different, however, and it was to sell those companies to foreign multinationals or local business interests and for elected officials who participated in the process of selling, to enrich themselves with kickbacks. The current president of the Central Bank played a critical role in that process.

    But the process of privatization also brought another reality regarding economic resources. The state enterprises represented a source of revenue for the state, and without that source of revenue, the state had to find new resources. One of the options was to tax the Dominican elite but that option was immediately discarded.

    Dominican reformist politics

    The emergence of the PLD in the Dominican political landscape began in the 1970s when societies faced complex political, economic, and social challenges. Founded by Juan Bosch (1909-2001) in 1973 after leaving the nominally social-democrat Dominican Revolutionary Party (PRD), which he and others founded in Cuba in the 1940s, the PLD was, in all essence, a reformist bourgeois party. However, the party leadership concealed its true colors by making use of progressive language, a posture that would prove successful for party building as the crisis and divisions facing the Dominican left had no end in sight. Bosch built a base of loyal supporters due to his role in the anti-dictatorial resistance abroad, and his proven credentials as a democratic politician as he became the first democratically elected president in 1963 after thirty years of dictatorial regime. Overthrown in a military coup seven months later, Bosch’s party at the time, the PRD, led the 1965 democratic revolution that sought to restore constitutional order and democratic liberties, playing a central role in the anti-imperialist resistance against the US military intervention that same year.

    In a political landscape dominated by two main capitalist parties, on one side the right-wing Social Christian Reformist Party (PRSC) and on the other the center-left Dominican Revolutionary Party (PRD), the emergence of a third party offered a sense of respite from traditional politics, disrupting bipartidism in the process. The PLD’s early reformist orientation eventually solidified the party as a left-wing pole of attraction during the 1980s. Early on, Bosch had envisioned the PLD as a political instrument to fulfill the task of national liberation under the leadership of the petit bourgeoisie class, a social class assigned a “historical role” in his political writings. The party’s outlook did not only reflect Bosch’s ideas about the origins of capitalism in the Dominican Republic and the implications in the fight for national liberation, but it also reflected the class interests of some of its leading members. In fact, the bulk of the PLD’s membership had become—or were en route to become—young professionals who hailed from lower and middle-class strata. Among the party membership were some conservative opportunists and former collaborators of the Trujillo dictatorship who cloaked their right wing, authoritarian sympathies under the guise of pseudo-progressive language.

    In a 1986 interview, Bosch admitted that the PLD was leftist without a socialist program.2 Unlike the old reformist PRD of yesteryear—a mass, left-of-center, populist, pro-capitalist party with active labor, radical and anti-imperialist wings—the PLD did not claim to represent the working-class or other popular sectors.

    Over time, three critical factors eventually helped the PLD under Bosch’s leadership consolidate its position as the “truly leftist reformist party” vis-à-vis the PRD. First, the Stand-by Arrangement of the Dominican government led by the Dominican Revolutionary Party, with the International Monetary Fund (IMF), marked a period of discontent within the progressive segment of the coalition that first catapulted the PRD to power in 1978. The second factor was the attraction that the new reformist party had on Dominican leftists who gradually abandoned revolutionary politics: from renowned radical fighters and unionists to artists and intellectuals of great standing and political prestige.

    Finally, the third factor that contributed to the rise of the PLD was the internal division of the PRD. Beginning in 1982, when the presidential candidate Salvador Jorge Blanco (1926-2010) won the election, a civil war erupted inside the PRD. Two factions emerged: one led by president Salvador Jorge Blanco, who represented the elite segment inside the PRD, and the other faction led by Jacobo Majluta, who served as vice-president to former president Antonio Guzmán Fernández and as interim president for 41 days after the president committed suicide. In 1986, as the PRD presidential candidate, Jacobo Majluta (1934-1996) lost the election against the Social Christian leader Joaquín Balaguer (1906-2002). In short, the weakness of the PRD within the Dominican political landscape—exacerbated by the loss of popular support after state repression quelled anti-IMF mobilizations in 1984—served the growth of the PLD in the late 1980s.

    The PLD shifts to the right

    With the beginning of the 1990s, the shift to the right of the PLD began to be more noticeable. Two factors accelerated the internal transformation of the party. First, the loss of the 1990 presidential elections in which the PLD was perceived as the winner, but Joaquín Balaguer was able to retain power by manipulating the election results with the support of the Dominican elite and the United States, opened the door to question the so-called leftist tendency inside the party.  Due to pressure from the conservative wing of the party, the PLD had to change its mantra from that of a center-left party to a centrist party that incorporated segments of the conservative elite if the party wanted not just to win an election but the recognition of that election by the elite.

    The second critical factor was the tectonic change in the geopolitical sphere between the Soviet Union and the West led by the United States. In the 1990s and on the onset of the fall of the Communist regimes, the PLD leadership consolidated the shift of the party to the right when it openly embraced bourgeois ideology in a move that propelled it into the arms of Washington and local archconservative elites. For a segment of the party leadership, the world changed, and the struggle of ideology became an obsolete political tool of the past. This perception was in tune with conservative political scientist Francis Fukuyama in his now infamous book, The End of History and the Last Man, in which he described the so-called victory of the West as the end of human beings’ ideological evolution in support of Western values. This new realignment coupled with Juan Bosch’s inability to lead due to declining health and his eventual death in 2001, posed a dilemma for the leadership: how to maintain party unity and preserve its “progressive” image for public consumption while engaging in political duplicity. Over the years, the chameleonic PLD leaders—who were invested in restructuring economic and social relations in tandem with the free-market—adopted, as in a masquerade ball, multiple political colors, depending on the occasion, in the hopes of retaining and gaining support. Moreover, progressive language and periodical invocations of the deceased leader served the PLD as subterfuge to deceive, disorient and confuse both opposition parties and voters.

    As the crisis of the left intensified, the PLD leadership began to position itself beyond left-right ideologies, preaching the virtues of capitalism at every opportunity. Aware of the particularities of Dominican politics, which is pretty much acute and sensitive to international political trends, the PLD leadership spent a great amount of time making vague references to Anglo-political conservative, neoliberal and anti-progressive realignments such as Clintonism and Tony Blair’s Third Way. That is not to say that these two neoliberal heads of state did not influence the thinking of peledeistas (PLD members), but the seeds to embark on privatization of public holdings to further dismantle basic services like healthcare and education were already there.

    Further, small but popular gestures like establishing diplomatic relations with Cuba were meant to appease the left while the leadership argued that the party’s ideology was neither left or right; it continued to spew center-left and progressive rhetoric despite its alliance with fascists from the Fuerza Nacional Progresista (Progressive National Force, FNP), a minuscule far-right party whose influence (and resources) grew because of its alliance with the party in power. By the time those at the helm no longer felt guilt for espousing their reactionary ideology, the PLD leadership had already adopted a traditional, patriotic and nationalist identity.

    Some within the party, for instance, former president Leonel Fernández, claimed to be political heirs of right-wing strongman and close-U.S. ally Joaquín Balaguer whose regime (1966-1978) killed thousands including left-wing revolutionaries.

    Furthermore, the PLD came to power in 1996 through an electoral alliance with Balaguer and other right-wing political actors. Calling themselves the Frente Patriotico (Patriotic Front), the PLD and the Right launched a coordinated racist campaign to derail the presidential candidacy of José Francisco Peña Gómez (1937-1998), a Black Dominican of Haitian origin who was one of the leaders of the 1965 democratic revolution that sought to restore Bosch to power after a right-wing US-backed military coup in 1963.

    During its heyday in power, the PLD leadership accumulated immense personal wealth and built a massive clientelist base. A key pillar of their success was figuring out that money could buy loyalty. The party leadership was also willing to undermine the Dominican political system, if it suited them, by buying the leadership of opposition parties.

    The formerly petty bourgeois, and now nouveau riche, millionaire PLD leadership thus announced their intention to perpetuate their regime. Following in the footsteps of Mexico’s constitutional dictatorship under the Partido Revolucionario Institucional (Institutional Revolutionary Party, PRI) and reviving the local authoritarian tradition implanted by the Trujillo and Balaguer regimes, the peledeista political class expressed a desire to cling to power for forty years, that is, until the year 2036. The leadership’s voracious greed and appetite for power accelerated what seemed like an irreversible authoritarian turn.3

    Resistance from below

    Akin to a party-state electoral machine, and in some ways like its predecessors, the PLD used state violence to remain in power. However, what set the PLD apart was its reliance on other forms of social control aimed at creating consensus and legitimacy. For example, due to limited employment opportunities in semi-colonial capitalist societies, government jobs, career advancement and scholarships to prestigious universities abroad are enticing to activists and intellectuals.

    In that sense, the PLD co-opted some radical sectors but, at the same time, those who were able to repel the PLD’s coercion and corrupting tentacles played a significant role in leading the popular resistance that over the years helped galvanize opposition to PLD governments under both former presidents Leonel Fernández (1996–2000, 2004–2012) and Danilo Medina (2012–2016, 2016–2020).

    It took years of struggle, in fact, to bring the PLD to its knees. From the fight against the 2010 racist, sexist and homophobic constitution to labor and anti-austerity strikes and protests that challenged neoliberalism and the signing of unilateral U.S. trade agreements in the context of growing hemispheric resistance that slowed down the expansion of neoliberalism in the region; to what is perhaps the most durable social movement from those years, the civil rights struggle led by Sonia Pierre (1963-2011), a force to reckon with, as she defiantly challenged anti-Haitian racism, racial discrimination, xenophobia, capitalist exploitation and sexism.

    By 2017, widespread anti-PLD sentiment exploded into a mass anti-corruption movement known as Marcha Verde (Green March), mobilizing a large working and middle-class electoral bloc who continue to play a central role in shaping anti-corruption politics to this day.

    Downfall

    Former President Danilo Medina’s bid for re-election accelerated the PLD’s downfall from power. Medina abandoned his attempt to run for a third time when it became more and more evident that widespread anger triggered by the regime’s nepotism, abuse of power, authoritarianism and utter neglect of basic services, such as health care and education, had reached its boiling point. At the end, Medina handpicked a puppet candidate to remain the king behind the throne.

    By the time the 2020 presidential election campaign arrived, the PLD was facing a nasty and bitter internal crisis accelerated by rigged primary elections stacked against Leonel Fernández, Medina’s rival, who left the party shortly after and launched his own party (Fuerza del Pueblo or Peoples’ Force), a “new” party as reactionary and corrupt as the PLD. This new crisis split the PLD voting base, a sign that the end was near.

    With the defeat of Medina’s candidate, Gonzalo Castillo, a new political cycle found one of the factions within the reactionary camp weakened as a result. This electoral defeat dealt a significant blow to the political and personal ambitions of former president Medina whose protégé and would be successor failed to garner support among the electorate even after running a ridiculously expensive electoral campaign that included distribution of cash to poor and unemployed young and adults voters alike, buying votes, hiring journalists and entertainers to spread propaganda, silencing dissent and forcing state employees to attend pro-government rallies at the risk of losing their jobs.

    The PLD’s debacle at the ballot box amounted to a resounding rejection of conservatism and a reactionary political and economic model based on extreme acts of nepotism, abuse of power, state violence, intolerance, impunity, paternalism, individualism, racism, sexism, homophobia, ecocide and the worship of money. Thus, the defeat of the PLD was a step forward, albeit a partial one, in the struggle to democratize Dominican society.

    Neoliberal continuity under Abinader

    In the absence of left-wing and working-class electoral political alternatives, ordinary people eager to subvert the critical political situation after twenty years of right-wing rule under the PLD and its millionaire class, replaced one political class by another by throwing their lot with businessman-turned politician Luis Abinader, from the Modern Revolutionary Party (PRM), a split from the PRD.

    Abinader’s win was a two-fold strategy: first, he and his party capitalized on the mass opposition to the PLD embodied primarily in the Marcha Verde anti-corruption movement; and second, Abinader put together a right-wing/center-left alliance that brought together a portion of the PLD voting bloc (represented by Leonel Fernández and his People’s Force party) and other small right wing parties such as the PRSC and Dominicanos por el Cambio (Dominicans for Change, DXD) as well as the center-left Frente Amplio (Broad Front, FA).

    Abinader also gained the support of middle-class progressive intellectuals and activists who saw the attempt by the PLD to perpetuate in power as a threat to democracy. But those progressive activists and intellectuals, guided by hatred for the PLD as well as their own anti-working-class politics and personal ambitions, ended up backing Abinader, conservative candidate to beat the incumbent, creating illusions among ordinary people. Left-wing journalist Lilliam Oviedo excoriates those who “out of naivety, crude pragmatism or opportunism, the [progressives] have thus crowned [their] desire to play cards in a dirty game”.4

    Public knowledge of Abinader’s upper class and privileged background was not enough to deter progressive-leaning organizations and individuals from endorsing the PRM candidate. But the leadership of the PRM also engages in political duplicity, striking a progressive, left-wing pose as an opposition party with a social democratic lineage that once in power, swung to the right. That is why this last election was another cosmetic change.

    While it is true that President Abinader appointed an independent prosecutor to persecute corruption as part of the popular clamor for justice embodied in the Marcha Verde movement, his government has shielded corrupt political allies from prosecution. Since taking power, Abinader has disappointed a large majority of voters, including the base of his party that tends to be more progressive, by stacking the Dominican state and his cabinet with capitalist moguls (like himself) and corrupt politicians from both the PLD and the PRM.5

    The role of the private sector became more evident when President Abinader launched a public-private alliance to invest in tourism projects to the detriment of both the state (which will act as the main investor) and working-class people whose pressing needs include access to decent healthcare, Covid testing and vaccines, education, food and housing.6

    During the presidential campaign, Abinader and the PRM expressed support for the struggle to decriminalize abortion, a polarizing issue that challenges the hegemony of religious conservatives from both the Catholic Church and the growing evangelical community. The PRM was the only opposition mainstream party to openly support therapeutic abortion during the presidential campaign and won the support of feminist organizations. However, Abinader and his party—in alliance with Christian right sectors—have betrayed their promises again and again by refusing to decriminalize abortion, serving as a catalyst for the launch of massive street mobilizations and occupy-like encampments.7

    Abinader and his Christian right allies have also contributed to further criminalize LBGTQ+ people by refusing to persecute hate crimes based on sexual orientation.

    A year into Abinader’s presidency has only created more misery and exploitation for poor and working-class people in the Dominican Republic. To manage pandemic and the resulting economic crisis, Abinader has relied heavily on repressive measures including street militarization to enforce unpopular lockdowns. Poor neighborhoods bear the brunt of state repression. In 2021, Abinader declared a state of emergency from March to the first week of October. By doing so, his government suspended free transit and democratic liberties. The state of emergency, backed by all traditional parties, granted Abinader special executive powers to rein in the state’s finances with little or no oversight while re-opening the economy despite the rapid spread of the virus with the sole objective of keeping the tourist sector afloat at the expense of people’s health. For the Dominican elite, the pandemic has been an economic bonanza long in the making. Abinader and the ultra-rich, financial capitalist class he represents, benefits greatly from tourism. According to a 2021 Central Bank report, 462,536 tourists entered the country by June. Additionally, other sectors that have grown during the pandemic included construction, free trade zones, local manufacture, transport and storage of supplies, mining and commerce.8

    White supremacy and racism are key components of the white, Dominican elite that President Abinader represents. That is why it is not surprising that he has adopted right wing populist nationalism as a pillar of his regime, making his political positions more extreme than that of former PLD governments. His right-wing agenda clearly serves the interests of both local and US capitalists. By using racist, xenophobic anti-Haitian rhetoric (sometimes openly and sometimes in coded language), Abinader continues to scapegoat Haitian workers for social ills, polarizing the electorate and creating divisions between Haitians and Dominicans. His right-wing nationalist rhetoric—which portrays the political and economic crisis of neighboring Haiti as a threat to national sovereignty— is also meant to galvanize patriotic symbolism and national unity to slow down, and eventually derail class unity.

    The most recent nationalist propaganda serves as a political distraction that only benefits the ruling class. Interestingly, it is not a coincidence that President Abinader went on a right-wing nationalist tirade right around the time his name appeared in the Pandora Papers list of presidents and public figures who hide their fortunes in tax havens.9

    Further, the Dominican state under Abinader continues to serve the needs of capitalist exploitation as his government prioritizes funding non-essential public works at this perilous time such as the construction of a Trump-inspired fence alongside the Dominican-Haitian border while poor neighborhoods suffer blackouts, and the housing crisis widens.

    What’s Next?

    The social justice movement has a bright future, but it must deal with practices undermining past social justice movements on the island. While it is true that the Dominican Republic moved away from extrajudicial killings of activists, it is also true that the economic coercion of leaders of those movements continues. The PLD demonstrated the political and economic tentacles of the clientelist states and its willingness to provide economic “gifts” to social justice leaders in exchange for loyalty to the party. Already several former leaders of the Green March movement have abandoned social struggle after accepting lucrative government jobs.

    Meanwhile, the struggle against the PLD’s authoritarian turn and its electoral fraud during the municipal elections in 2020 as well the impact of youth and women mobilizations in Haiti, Chile, Argentina and the United States politicized and radicalized young people for an entire generation, leading to a resurgence of feminist, queer, black/afro-Dominican struggles. Bearing in mind that the PLD’s ultra-reactionary legacy will continue to have political and cultural ramifications, its long-term impact and survival will depend on whether progressive, labor, feminists, anti-racist and anti-capitalist sectors continue to organize and fight the right.

    In the Dominican Republic many workers are not organized, and labor unions remain weak across the country. As long as there is a conservative leadership at the helm of some of the largest labor unions such as the Confederación Autónoma Sindical Clasista (Autonomous Confederation of Classist Unions, CASC), labor unions cannot become instruments of class and social struggle.

    Nevertheless, the prospects of working-class struggle look promising. In recent months, teachers, healthcare workers and professors and staff from the Universidad Autonoma de Santo Domingo (Autonomous University of Santo Domingo, UASD), the public university, have led important labor struggles. Under the leadership of a socialist, members of the professor’s union (FAPROUASD) won a 15% salary increase in November of 2021 as a result of mobilizations. As important is the labor struggle led by sugar cane workers of Haitian origin fighting for their pensions. Moreover, large segments of the population comprised of peasants and unorganized workers also challenge mega-mining extractivism on an ongoing basis.

    The revolutionary left is small, but it continues to be the only political force that can mount a serious opposition to state repression and capitalist exploitation as reformist center-left parties have moved to the right. Known for its endless sectarian strife, the Dominican left is also known for its rich history of struggle. The more prominent organizations are rooted in some of the political tendencies that were the backbone of the international left: Maoist (Movimiento Popular Dominicano or Dominican People’s Movement, MPD), Stalinist (Movimiento Caamañista or Caamañist Movement, MC) and Trotskyist (Movimiento de las Trabajadoras y Trabajadores Socialistas or Socialist Workers Movement, MST). Despite their different origins, these revolutionary organizations share a deep commitment to internationalism and anti-imperialist politics rooted in the 1965 revolution and subsequent anti-imperialist war against US occupying troops. The left has potential to grow and contribute to re-building the student movement and strengthening feminist, labor, environmentalist and peasant struggles. Finally, it is important that the left continues to denounce the Dominican ruling class attacks on people of Haitian descent, and offer realistic, concrete solutions to working people at this moment of crisis while rejecting nationalism.

    International solidarity with the Dominican people will be crucial to defeat the latest ruling class offensive. The progressive and revolutionary sectors from the Dominican diaspora in the US have played an important role in Dominican politics and will continue to do so in years to come. As the Dominican elite consolidates its power under Abinader and continues its relentless attacks on the working class, the revolutionary left must unite to organize workers regardless of national origin, fight racism, sexism, homophobia and transphobia, and ultimately, build a strong working-class led left-wing political alternative to fight the battles to come in the ideological and electoral terrain as well as in the streets.

    The authors dedicate this article to the memory of Dominican revolutionary socialist Hancy Martínez (1991-2021). The authors also thank Amín Pérez for revising an earlier draft.

    Endnotes

    1Abinader asegura pueblos del Cibao decidirán en el 16”, El Caribe, November 23, 2015.

    2An Interview with Juan Bosch”, NACLA, 1986. Date re-published online: June 25, 2013.

    3Leonel Fernández: El PLD gobernaría hasta el 2036”, Diario Libre, July 15, 2013.

    4Continuidad del saqueo y el entreguismo”, Lilliam Oviedo, Rebelión, April 8, 2020.

    5 Ibid, Oviedo.

    6Alianza Público Privada contempla inversiones de hasta 7,000 millones”, El Dia, August 18, 2021.

    7Activists in the Dominican Republic Are Fighting the Country’s Abortion BanJacobin, December 14, 2021.

    8BCRD informa que la economía dominicana creció 13.3 % en el primer semestre del año 2021”, Report from the Dominican Central Bank, July 29, 2021.

    9Billions Hidden Without Reach”, The Washington Post, October 3, 2021.

  • U.S. Supreme Court Rules Against Workers’ Health

    U.S. Supreme Court Rules Against Workers’ Health

    United States Supreme Court Building

    This article was written for L’Anticapitaliste, the weekly newspaper of the New Anticapitalist Party (NPA) of France.

    Earlier this month, the U.S. Supreme Court overruled President Joseph Biden’s plan to mandate vaccinations for American workers employed by private businesses. It was an extraordinarily irrational and reactionary ruling by one of the most undemocratic and authoritarian institutions of our society, one that puts the power of capital ahead of the health of workers.

    The mandate for private business was one of two prongs of Biden’s plan to end the pandemic among workers. The Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services mandated vaccination for nearly all employees of hospitals, nursing homes and other health care providers that receive federal funds. Though the most conservative justices opposed it, Supreme Court majority let that mandate stand, and it will protect the health of most of the country’s 22 million health care workers.

    The U.S. Occupational Safety and Health Administration (OSHA) also mandated that in all businesses with over 100 workers, employees who worked indoors had to be vaccinated or tested regularly, which would have protected an estimated 84 million workers. The court struck this down.

    OSHA, an agency that exists to protect workers health, was established by Congress in 1971 after a long fight by labor unions and public health activists to establish it. Congress gave OSHA, among other responsibilities, the power, when workers faced “grave danger from exposure to substances or agents determined to be toxic or physically harmful or from new hazards,” to establish emergency standards to protect them. Clearly the COVID virus represents exactly such a grave danger, one that has taken the lives of thousands of workers, not only in health care but also in meat processing plants, restaurants, grocery stores, and other workplaces. As I am writing this, COVID has killed about 850,000 Americans and is still killing them at a rate of nearly 2,000 per day, and many got sick at work.

    The Supreme Court voted along ideological lines six to three to overturn the OSHA mandate for private business, arguing that OSHA did not have the authority to mandate vaccination. Two of the central arguments were these: First, COVID exists not only in the workplace but everywhere in society as a “day-to-day danger,” so it is a public health issue nor a workplace issue. Of course, that is also true of other OSHA standards such as those regarding protection from fires or dangerous chemicals found in many communities. Second, the conservative justices argued that a vaccination cannot be undone at the end of a workday and therefore it affects workers outside of the workplace. OSHA’s standard, however, did not require vaccination, but provided the alterative of regular testing. And, of course, there were exceptions for religious objections and those with particular health issues.

    Clearly the court’s conservative majority’s underlying ideological objection is to the federal government’s intervention in the affairs of private business. Concerns with workers’ health should not interfere with the sanctity of capital.

    Yet many U.S. corporations in various sectors have already mandated vaccination for their workers and most labor unions, despite some initial resistance, have come to support and even advocate vaccination. The American public by and large now supports getting the jab.

    The Supreme Court is one of the most undemocratic institutions of our government. The sitting U.S. president nominates the justices who must be confirmed by a simple majority in the Senate. Former President Donald Trump nominated three, creating a much more rightwing court. They then sit on the bench until they quit or die and they can only be removed by impeachment and none has ever been convicted. The far left in the U.S. has long called for the court’s abolition.

    The court’s decision is part of a growing authoritarian and anti-worker political tendency, one that is growing and must be resisted.

     

     

     

     

     

  • Biden’s Speech on January 6 Insurrection and the Growth of America’s Far Right

    Biden’s Speech on January 6 Insurrection and the Growth of America’s Far Right

    President Donald Trump incited the insurrection at the Capitol that accompanied the attempted coup of January 6, 2021. Photo by Tyler Merbler.

    This article was written for L’Anticapitaliste, the weekly newspaper of the New Anticapitalist Party (NPA) of France.

    On January 6, the anniversary of the insurrection and attempted coup at the U.S. Capitol, President Joseph Biden spoke out strongly against former president Donald Trump’s “big lie” and the Republican Party’s anti-democratic state voting laws, his first such strong speech since taking office.

    We now know that Trump and the Republican Party had a plan to have their senators vote to reject state election returns in several states and to have Vice-President Mike Pence refuse the state’s electors, which would send the election to the House of Representatives. At the same time, President Trump would declare a national emergency to prevent the election from going forward. Meanwhile, far-right groups organized the violent assault on the U.S. Capitol. While the coup plots failed, they represented a serious attempt.

    But the rise of rightwing politics and authoritarianism and of armed groups preparing for violent action is an even greater problem than Biden’s speech suggests and neither mainstream Democrats, nor progressives, nor the left, seems to have a strategy to stop the rise of the right. The last several years have engendered a complex, multi-faceted far-right movement active in government at all levels, in the news media, the social media, and the streets. There is now big money backing rightwing politicians and organizations and middle-class business owners and professionals as well as parts of the working class support them.

    Trump controls the Republican Party and only a handful of Republicans dare oppose him. The Republicans now have several mini-Trumps and the party is riddled with far-right ideologues. The party is growing and its rank and file, tens of millions of voters, support Trump. Two-thirds of Republicans believe that Biden won the election through fraud, and most refuse to accept the results. Trump’s party controls the U.S. Supreme Court, half of the Senate, a large minority in the House; in almost half of the states there is a Republican governor as well as Republican majorities in both houses. This allows the Republicans to control redistricting, the redrawing of the electoral maps following the decennial census, and to pass election laws to suppress the vote. Republicans have passed dozens of laws making it more difficult to vote, laws that most affect Black voters, young voters, and low-income voters, a majority of whom vote Democrat. Eight states now have laws that give the state legislature power to overturn the election.

    The Democratic Party response to these developments is a federal Freedom to Vote Act, but it seems unlikely that Congress will pass it.

    At the local level, far-right groups, including the Proud Boys, Oath Keepers, Three Percenters, and paramilitary militias, organize protests at school board and city council meetings. Together with Q-Anon supporters, white Evangelical Christians, and anti-vaxxers they opposed vaccination or mask mandates, and along with white nationalists they oppose “critical race theory,” which mans any teaching about the history and nature of racism in America. Some members of these groups are running for local office or for Congress. Right-wingers are also organizing to ban books from schools and public libraries, some have proposed that hundreds of books be banned, mostly books dealing with race, gender, and sexuality, many by Latino, Black, gay, or trans authors.

    The U.S. labor movements has no strategy whatsoever to deal with the far rights, beyond voting Democrat. The Democratic Socialists of America, the country’s largest socialist group, works to resist the right by electing more progressive Democrats, but those congresspeople and state legislators represent only a tiny minority. The anarchist left advocates building the anti-fascist movement to confront the far-right in the streets, but at this point few Americans on the left will take up a plan that inevitably leads to violence. The left must involve itself in campaigns to defend the vote as well as in the social movements and workers’ struggles, challenging rightwing ideology and demagogy and offering a democratic and socialist alternative.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • Education Reforms and Capitalism’s Changes to Work: Lessons for the Left

    Education Reforms and Capitalism’s Changes to Work: Lessons for the Left

    [Editor’s note: An archived version of the event can be seen here: https://www.facebook.com/newpoliticsmag/videos/263390032588738/]

    Join us January 20, 7:30pm (Eastern) to discuss what we need to learn and do to resist changes capitalism has made to labor and schools since Trump’s election and the pandemic.  A panel of working teacher union activists and audience members will join Lois Weiner, longtime New Politics contributor and editorial board member, to discuss ideas in the first chapter of her new book, now available on the New Politics website.

    Panelists include

    *Tia Edison, Academic Instructional Coach in Jefferson County Public School (Kentucky) who chairs the teachers union local’s Black Caucus.

    * Natasha Carlsen, a special education teacher in Chicago, Chicago Teachers Union (CTU) special education committee co-chair, a CTU Executive Board Functional Vice President, and a member of the  CORE (Caucus of Rank and File Educators) steering.

    * Lourdes Torres, a high school teacher in Puerto Rico and  member of the Federación de Maestros de Puerto Rico (FMPR).

    * Daniel “Herm” Jerome, a teacher at Maker Academy in New York, a steering member of the United Federation of Teachers (UFT) Movement for Rank and File Educators, (MORE), and a founding member of the New York Collective of radical Educators (NYCoRE) and Teachers Unite.

    Co-sponsored by New Politics, Badass Teachers Association, Haymarket Books, Tempest Collective
  • Bolivia Update: Arce’s First Year

    Bolivia Update: Arce’s First Year

    In October and November of 2019, clashes over the validity of presidential elections in Bolivia led to protests and the eventual ouster of the leftist Indigenous president Evo Morales, in what most observers characterized as a coup.  In the year that followed, the interim regime, led by Jeanine Añez, oversaw a deeply repressive regime that confronted protests on two occasions with large-scale killing by the military.  The year of de facto rule was further compounded by COVID and by corruption, with widespread theft and graft.  When new elections were finally held in October of 2020, the ousted party returned to power with a new president, Luís Arce.  Evo Morales came back from exile in Argentina, and the resurgent MAS party – the ‘Movement Toward Socialism’ – took back the state.  Now a year later, President Luís Arce continues to grapple with an extremist right-wing opposition and the challenges of governing in a post-coup scenario amidst an ongoing pandemic.  Against ongoing efforts by the right-wing to destabilize the new president, the country’s robust peasant and worker social movements, in large part rural and Indigenous, continue to turn out in the streets to offer their ongoing support – both for Arce and for the democratic mandate he won in the polls.

    But beyond the electoral win, Bolivia’s situation is complicated.  Luís Arce has managed to juggle the pandemic, the economic downturn, and right-wing machinations.  As such, his first year is a success if seen against the backdrop of the situation at hand.  Bolivia has received a medley of vaccines– from Russia, China, the US, and Argentina – and has been feverishly trying to get them into people’s arms.  The government has also been methodically scooping up those accused of taking part in the 2019 coup and putting them in jail.  This has followed popular clamor for justice for the victims of army violence as well as a scathing report by a ‘Group of Independent Experts’  (GIEI).   Backed by the OAS (and partly financed by the United States) the GIEI carried out an exhaustive investigation and produced a report that detailed numerous human rights abuses and confirmed the two massacres carried out by the coup regime in late 2019.   In the wake of Morales’ ouster, the tide of international opinion seemed to be adopting the argument that Morales was rightfully ousted in the wake of fraud – in no small part thanks to the efforts of the OAS and the US itself.  But the work of a number of academic researchers has debunked the OAS’s “evidence” for the coup.  And the GIEI report, against what many expected, has actually documented the gross abuses of the coup regime.   International opinion – and the facts – are now leaning in the other direction.

    Even so, in past months the right-wing opposition, from its geographic base in the eastern Bolivian city of Santa Cruz, has been moving from one tactic to another in an effort to keep the Arce government on its heels.  The ostensible motives are varied.  In the immediate wake of Arce’s October 2020 victory, a small segment of the right tried to mobilize claims of fraud once again.  Given the international recognition that Arce won in free and fair elections, that effort fizzled.  A few weeks later, when the government started jailing those responsible for the coup, the opposition again called for a national work stoppage, claiming that there was a political witch-hunt underway.  That effort hinged on an ongoing division in Bolivia – between those who believe the 2019 events were a coup and those who believe that the upheaval was precipitated by Evo Morales’ attempt at electoral fraud.  The ‘coup vs fraud’ cleavage remains an abyss. The MAS’ rural and urban majority base of support is on one side (it was a coup), while the mostly urban upper- and middle-classes of the opposition are on the other (it was fraud).  The fact that this latter sector controls most of the media outlets means that the fraud message – and the story of ‘political persecution’ – is a constant daily barrage.

    Nonetheless, this national work stoppage also fizzled. So the opposition tried another tactic – opposing a new law aimed at stopping widespread money-laundering. Here they got more traction, claiming that some provisions of the law increased the surveillance and subpoena powers of the state and were an infringement on citizen rights.   After several days of blockades, marches, and clashes, the government was forced to retreat, giving the right a symbolic victory.  And, while a number of military officials and even the ex-(de facto) president  Jeanine Añez are in jail awaiting trial, the government has been unwilling or unable to go after one of the main coup protagonists: Luís Fernando Camacho.  After being at the forefront of the effort to topple Evo Morales in 2019 – and even bragging that his father had paid the police to mutiny – Camacho returned to his regional stronghold of Santa Cruz to participate in local elections as a gubernatorial candidate.  In March of 2021 he was elected governor.  Though his popularity is limited to that eastern region, the national government has not moved to detain him for his role in the coup.  This is a tacit recognition of government weakness, acknowledging that Arce’s administration does not quite have the power to withstand the reaction that such a move might provoke.

    So, while numerically the MAS and Arce enjoy the support of a popular majority, with much of this backing in the rural areas, in the cities and in the media the situation looks more like a polarized stalemate.  As Bolivian analyst Fernando Molina recently wrote, it is not altogether clear whether or not the government will be able to successfully prosecute those it has jailed.  For various charges of corruption during the coup regime, the case is a little easier. In fact, the coup government’s former Minister of Government, Arturo Molina, is sitting in a Miami jail cell right now, charged by US authorities for his own money-laundering carried out while in office. Yet for those charged with participating in the coup, things are more complicated. To prosecute the ex-president Jeanine Añez, the government needs a 2/3 majority vote in Congress, a vote it does not have.  With the details of abuses of the coup regime now documented by the report of the GIEI, the report did not weigh in on the coup vs. fraud debate, leaving the narrative largely in the hands of a divided public.

    Even so, Arce maintains widespread popularity in Bolivia and a right-wing return is not imminent. Yet there are still a range of uncertainties and challenges ahead.  The first is the resurgence of the pandemic, with growing rates of infection despite the vaccination efforts.  The second is economic.  After a dismal economic year in 2020, Bolivia’s growth rate has rebounded and is projected at 5.1% for 2021, the average for South America.  But high levels of revenue from natural gas exports have dropped off.  In the period since his first election in 2006, gas revenues allowed Evo Morales to redistribute wealth and increase public spending, both of which had positive effects on the broader economy.  But in 2014 gas revenues started a precipitous decline.  National, regional and municipal governments, all of which had shared in the largesse, now face deep cutbacks.  The possibility of the return of a gas boom is small.  Many observers and Bolivians alike are now turning their attention to lithium.  Bolivia’s large lithium deposits, situated primarily in the department of Potosí, may indeed promise some future bonanza.  Yet the department of Potosí, not coincidentally, has also been a thorn in the side of the national government.  One of its leaders, Marco Pumari, was the sidekick of Camacho during the 2019 putsch.  While Camacho remains free, Pumari has now been jailed.  National and regional tensions, which have long characterized the relationship with Santa Cruz, are also simmering around the issue of lithium and Potosí.  Arce’s government not only has to grapple with international jockeying for rights to develop Bolivia’s lithium deposits but also with domestic struggles tied to the management of whatever wealth those deposits might generate.

    Even with all of these challenges, the scenario in Bolivia is much better than it might have been, and the wider trajectory of Latin America seems promising as well.  In Bolivia, the right-wing does not have the mobilizing power of a Trump or a Bolsonaro (as in Brazil).  While it is hard to say what events might unsettle the Arce government, for the moment the situation is much better than it would have been with a prolonged coup regime or with the return of the old guard neoliberal political parties.  In Latin America as well, things are taking a modest turn for the better.  Along with the recent overwhelming victory by leftist Gabriel Boric in Chile, Xiomara Castro, a democratic socialist, has been elected to the presidency in the US’ perennial lapdog, Honduras.  Setting aside the travails of Nicaragua and Venezuela – complicated in their own right – the re-election of Lula da Silva in Brazil (absent a military coup) will also probably happen in 2022.  With the three largest economies in South America – Argentina, Brazil, and Chile – all neighbors of Bolivia, and all under left-leaning governments, Bolivia’s historic process of change looks to have several more years to work on its unfinished business – the deeper social and economic decolonization and democratization of the state.  Things could be worse.

  • The United States and Russia Struggle over Ukraine. War on the Horizon?

    The United States and Russia Struggle over Ukraine. War on the Horizon?

    Military forces in and around Ukraine. Map from Institute for the Study of War.

    This article was written for L’Anticapitaliste, the weekly newspaper of the New Anticapitalist Party (NPA) of France.

    Ukraine is at the center of a dangerous contest between the United States and Russia that could lead to a Russian invasion, to Western economic sanctions, to mutual cyber warfare, and, with two nuclear powers involved, could even detonate a nuclear war. At the heart of this is Ukraine’s plans to affiliate with NATO. Both U.S. President Joseph Biden and Russian President Vladimir Putin have invoked their nations’ imperial histories and current ambitions, using the Ukraine as the occasion to reassert their claims to dominate Eastern Europe.

    Some time ago, Putin lamented the fall of the Soviet Union, calling it “the greatest geopolitical disaster of the 20th century.” Under both the Tsarist monarchy and then under the Soviet Union, Ukraine formed part of the empire, and Putin seems to yearn to reconquer and reincorporate it. Now Putin, claiming that the United States and its allies are threatening Russia by supporting Ukraine, has mobilized about 100,000 troops that are poised to invade.

    Biden has made his own aggressive assertions. In June of last year, Biden told Western European allies, “America is back in the business of leading the world alongside nations who share our most deeply held values….We believe that NATO is vital to our ability to maintain American security for the remainder of the century.” He specifically noted, “We stand in solidarity with our valued partners Ukraine and Georgia, and we will continue to support their reforms, bringing them closer to NATO.” Biden also stated that the U.S. regards Article 5 of the NATO treaty—which states an attack on one country is an attack on all—was “a sacred commitment.”

    The Ukraine, long a colony of Russia and lying between Russia and Western Europe, is deeply divided geographically and politically between pro-Western and pro-Russian politics, and so it has become a flashpoint. Independent since the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, Ukraine initially established relations with both the Commonwealth of Independent States, (former Soviet states) and with NATO. When former Prime Minister Viktor Yanukovych, who favored an alliance with the Soviet Union, rigged the presidential election in 2004, the Orange Revolution forced a rerun and Viktor Yushchenko, who leaned West was elected. Yanukovych, however, won the 2010 presidential election and in 2013 decided to suspend association with the European Union and instead affiliate with Russia’s Eurasia Economic Union. That led to the Euromaidan protests and the Ukrainian Revolution of 2014 in which Yanukovych was ousted and succeeded by a pro-Western president.

    In response to those developments, in 2014 Putin sent Russian forces to invade and seize Ukraine’s Crimean Peninsula, claiming it for Russia. He also provoked a war in the Donbas region of Eastern Ukraine and recognized two “republics” in the Ukraine that are demanding autonomy.and Putin still supports guerrilla troops there today. Some 13,000 people have been killed in that conflict since April 2014.

    At the center of the U.S.-Russian dispute is the question of Ukraine’s affiliation with NATO. Ukraine joined the NATO Cooperation Council in 1991, cooperated with NATO ever since, and still plan to affiliate. At their 2021 summit, NATO leaders reaffirmed plans for Ukraine to become a full member, asserting that Russia would have no veto power over that decision. Putin says that the Ukraine must not join NATO and that NATO forces in Eastern Europe should be pulled back. If it does join NATO, Russia would “conduct itself as the United States would behave if offensive weapons were near the United States.” When the Soviet Union placed missiles in Cuba in 1962, the U.S. pressured the USSR to remove them and the world came close to a nuclear war.

    The European far left opposes both Biden and Putin, but there is no anti-war movement in the United States and none is possible in Russia. We need to speak up now, opposing U.S. imperialism first, Russian interference as well, and supporting a movement for an independent Ukraine, one not controlled by the country’s reactionary oligarchs.

     

  • Education Reforms and Capitalism’s Changes to Work

    Education Reforms and Capitalism’s Changes to Work

    [Editor’s note: The original posting invited readers to join us for a roundtable Jan. 20, 2022, 7:30 pm (EST) as Lois Weiner and a panel of teacher union activists discuss the first chapter of her book, appearing here and in the Winter 2022 print issue.  An archived version of the event can be seen here: https://www.facebook.com/newpoliticsmag/videos/263390032588738/]

    In this article, which is the first chapter of my new book, I examine what has occurred in and to education and teachers’ work since publication of The Future of Our Schools: Teachers Unions and Social Justice (Haymarket, 2012).1 I had intended to revise that book in 2017, in response to Trump’s election, but the pandemic changed my plan. Seeing the media whip up public hysteria about teachers and teachers unions; investigating information technology’s changes to work and education; examining reports of world financial organizations; and looking at how the neoliberal narrative had changed in response to new social movements, in particular Black Lives Matter, I concluded we faced a significant shift: Capitalism had been altering work and education in ways most opponents of its reforms, myself included, had missed.

    In a nutshell, the ruling class used the pandemic to accelerate and intensify changes so substantial that what has occurred should be understood as a new iteration of the neoliberal project in education. The process, underway for several years, reflects and reinforces changes in work and the global economy. Public education is being reconfigured with “new models of curriculum provision based on digital resource banks created by a variety of commercial organizations, politically-connected entrepreneurs, teacher-creators, public and charitable institutions, … increased commercial penetration into state schooling through a mixed economy of new providers and public/private partnerships,” creating a new infrastructure of education that is intended to persist well beyond the pandemic.2

    I make the case that we arrive late in contesting this new project, outlining its origins and social, political, and economic ramifications, and I explain that we have time, still, to resist successfully. The popular slogan “When we fight, we win” inspires militancy, the bottom line for victory. We also need to fight smart to win, which requires examining the new project, our victories, and our mistakes with all the objectivity we can muster. Our opponents bring to bear almost unimaginable wealth, power over governments, control of media, and armies. We bring the power of our numbers and ideas and the passion and courage of multigenerational, multiracial movements that are defending our planet, our livelihoods, social justice, democracy, and the peaceful future humanity deserves.

    To protect education as a public good, we need to ground our analysis and strategies in forthright acknowledgment that the system was, from its inception, structurally and ideologically flawed. There is no “golden age” to which we can return. Struggles contesting the shortcomings in public schools that are rooted in historic injustices can guide our vision about the schools we want and in turn inform further resistance. Fighting smart also requires marshaling all of our resources, which includes the left and potential allies in the labor movement, beyond those involved personally in education.

    This new iteration of the neoliberal project has already manifested itself globally in teachers’ work and public education, from preschool through mass public higher education. No student is too young or too old for education to be “data-driven,” with metrics for teaching and learning decided far from classrooms. As my analysis of global education reform has been dismissed as a “conspiracy theory” by some opponents of privatization, I note that conspiracies are, by definition, secret. This project’s aims and methods are public, articulated in reports of world financial institutions, in particular the World Bank’s World Development Reports of the past five years, as well as in materials produced by think tanks and foundations funded by billionaires, primarily those whose wealth is based on finance and information technology. Often the project’s aims are couched in rhetoric that makes the ideas seem unobjectionable and their financial and political backing irrelevant. For instance, the self-identified think tank for the “New Democrats,” the Clinton wing of the Democratic Party, with offices in Washington DC and Brussels, has named itself the Progressive Policy Institute (PPI) and identifies its goals as “radically pragmatic.” One ominous indication of our opponents’ sense of their strength is that they explicitly name their ideological and political commitments: A blog in February 2020 proudly explained that the PPI now formally sponsors “the neoliberal project,” embracing ideas and activities ongoing since 2017.3

    Education and Teachers’ Work: Why Do They Matter?

    Examining teachers’ work and labor activism, as well as educational research that looks at education’s functioning under capitalism, can inform struggles against capitalism, encompassing forms of social oppression that have been “baked into” its development.4 Teachers’ location and function as “idea workers” who do “women’s work,” in the last standing sector of public service that has not yet been fully privatized, one that is still understood as legitimately subject to democratic control, makes their work unique and their activism especially generative of lessons for labor. Because teachers’ work takes place at the juncture of capitalism’s economic, social, political, and cultural processes, looking closely at what occurs in teachers unions can illuminate how to better negotiate tensions and develop synergies that address labor’s responsibility to defend the dignity of work and workers’ economic self-interest, as well as its political and economic responsibilities and capacity to advance goals of movements for social justice, democracy, and peace.

    School reforms initiated by those with the most power and money reflect how they want society to look, just as do struggles that contest their vision and plans. Yet what occurs in classrooms is not the only, nor arguably the most influential, education that occurs in capitalism. Social movements teach by exposing harmful cultural and ideological assumptions; as John Dewey observed, learning occurs in families, and parents can be thought of as our first teachers; popular culture influences the way we speak, dress, eat, and think; we learn about class relations—class struggle—in the workplace.5 While education does not take place only in schools, they are sites of intense political controversy concerning explicit requirements about what to teach as well as the “hidden curriculum.” “Government schools,” as the far-right labels public education, are still a space for democratic struggle, seen in contestations about requirements for ethnic studies, the rights of transgender young people in physical accommodations, and opposition to standardized testing, before and during the pandemic. On the other side, the right has used its wealth and power to attack academic freedom in higher education and in pre-K-12 education and to criminalize teaching about climate change and systemic racism. The frenzied caricature of critical race theory, used to turn back gains by the powerful movement for racial equality, shows that schooling is a site of ideological struggle about political and social challenges to the status quo.

    The less publicized struggles over how and whether students should be placed in “ability groups” or “school tracks” reveal the deep, historic contradictions of capitalist society’s claims to be meritocratic and democratic. Standardized measurements of “ability,” far from being objective, reflect and reinforce social inequalities rooted in social class, family history of formal education, gender, supposed mastery of English, physical disabilities, and how U.S. society constructs “race.”6 The way we think about and measure “ability” exposes not only how schools synchronize education to the economy but also how categories of student “ability” relate to war and foreign policy. “Learning disabilities,” for example, developed as a classification of “ability” in the context of the Russians’ launch of Sputnik. Bipartisan horror that the United States was losing the Cold War because of its inferior schools drove policies to make children master more advanced material at younger ages. The assumption that Black people and immigrants couldn’t handle more challenging academic work due to biological or cultural deficits, embedded in mass public education from its creation, rationalized school “failure” of students from these groups. But when white children, mostly boys, couldn’t handle schooling’s new academic demands, a medicalized explanation for their problem mastering school work emerged—learning disabilities.7

    Educational research clarifies our challenge, which is not whether schools disrupt or reproduce unequal social relations but how they do so and for whom, by mapping how these conditions relate to inequalities outside the school walls. The significant impact of Black educational researchers, whose presence reflects the long-standing respect for teachers and teaching in the Black community from slavery onward, itself refutes the persistent canard that academic success is a function of biology or culture.8 This body of educational research also challenges deterministic analyses on the left contending schools reproduce a status quo of inequality uniformly, as was the intention in creating mass public education.

    One contribution I hope this forthcoming book makes is to push analysts of labor economy to take into account how social oppression, including gender and sexuality, configure work and the workplace. The best example of the left’s lacunae in this regard is its failure to recognize that teaching is real work and that teachers are workers.9 So much still written by the left about labor and unions perpetuates a historically inaccurate nostalgia for a working class of heterosexual, cis-gender, white men. The mischaracterization of teachers’ work reflects the bromance that obscures complexities about how and why workers organize on the job and undercuts our seeing and learning from contemporary struggles. We can take pride in, and learn from, the history of Black women, working as teachers, excluded from white professional associations and segregated teachers unions, who formed independent associations as teachers to protect their working conditions and conditions for Black students. Moreover, analysis of who comprises the working class that marginalizes teachers simultaneously obscures workers’ struggles powered by resistance to discrimination in the workplace. Gay women who fought their exclusion from the overwhelmingly white, male building trades unions, and gay militants in the Marine Cooks and Stewards Union, fought for their rights alongside campaigns against exclusionary racial policies in their unions, connecting both to red-baiting. They have much to teach us about building solidarity from below.10

    Recovering Lost Time and Territory

    While we focused on resisting Trump’s and the GOP’s horrifying advocacy of racial superiority, theocracy, subversion of women’s rights, anti-immigrant sentiment, dehumanization of people with disabilities, anti-labor positions, and more, policies that signaled and comprised the new iteration of the neoliberal project in education were underway. Resisting the DeVos/Trump/GOP expansion of policies prominent in the bipartisan project enacted under Bush and Obama, in particular standardized testing, charter schools, and vouchers, as well as the GOP’s neo-conservative additions, like funding for religious schools, occupied the movement’s resources and attention. During this time, education activists overlooked the significance of the Senate’s unanimous approval of Trump’s nominee for assistant secretary of education for career, technical, and adult education, Scott Stump. Every GOP and Democratic Senator voting on Stump’s nomination—even Sanders—cast an approving ballot.11 Stump’s background in workforce development and education in community colleges using online learning reflects the World Bank’s push that workers’ access to online learning through digital platforms is essential to reduce poverty. An underlying assumption, unchallenged by those who advance this project, including the two U.S. teacher federations, the AFT (American Federation of Teachers) and NEA (National Education Association), is that powerful elites and the politicians they control have the right to determine the future of education.

    The breathtaking scope of change being planned and enacted in teachers’ work and new forms of privatization are occurring on a scale hard to grasp, let alone resist. Mining student data yields enormous profits, and school districts have few, if any, safeguards to keep student data private. Data collected on students isn’t anonymous, as platforms and software companies claim, because tech companies can and do re-personalize it. Student and teacher privacy rights are easily voided when software for remote learning contains video. Teachers and students are subjected to surveillance of their physical presence and behavior. One of the most chilling aspects of the new project is how it extends corporate control and profit throughout the entire range of social services.12 A virtually unrecognized paradox of teachers unions demanding remote learning to keep children, families, communities, and school workers safe (as they had to do) is that teachers have been training their replacement, AI, with each key stroke of online assignments. One immediate and straightforward ask of teachers unions is for school districts to address the dangers that the National Educational Policy Center, or NEPC, has identified in “personalized learning,” digital platforms, and proprietary software. While understanding the life-and-death imperatives that drove teacher union demands for remote learning, we also need to explore why they missed this big picture.

    Another more complicated, worrisome issue is the extent to which the ruling class has—again—successfully obscured its aims with rhetorical and financial support for social justice struggles, especially anti-racism. The extent of nonprofit, foundation, university, and liberal think tank entanglement in education-based anti-racist organizations funded by Silicon Valley and Wall Street is itself a topic for a book.13 Often truly progressive organizing by NGOs contradicts their funders’ aims. For example, cutting-edge organizing against ed-tech surveillance that reinforces the school-to-prison pipeline is being done by the Alliance for Educational Justice. This authentically grassroots group is funded by the Democracy Alliance (DA), which includes Mary Kay Henry, president of the Service Employees International Union; a coterie of wealthy liberals, many of them ed-tech entrepreneurs; and the Center for American Progress (CAP), a think tank bankrolled by supporters of the Clinton wing of the Democratic Party. DA members pay annual dues of $30,000 and are required to contribute a total of at least $200,000 a year to recommended groups. Although DA steers money to “pillars of the political left such as the conservative media watchdog Media Matters,” it also donates big money to CAP and the data firm Catalist, run by Clinton allies. CAP explicitly supports most aspects of the Bush, Clinton, and Obama educational reforms, including expansion of charter schools.14

    The breathtaking shift in media treatment of teachers—pervasive claims that fighting the dangers of in-person learning undercut the well-being of low-income children, families, and communities—reproduces the narrative we have heard under Democratic and Republican administrations since Bush. The vicious onslaught in the media and among politicians occurs now for the same reason it was orchestrated 15 years ago: Teachers organized as workers are a powerful force, and their unions are a stable, potentially formidable foe. Hence the narrative about selfish teachers is a backhanded compliment to us—a response to victories in teachers’ labor activism in the past decade, in “blue cities” and “red state” walkouts, as well as gains in educating teachers and parents about the purposes of and harm done by standardized testing under No Child Left Behind.

    Activists have changed teachers unions, generating enthusiasm and excitement about possibilities for labor to challenge the status quo. The movement has demonstrated that teachers are a force with which powerful elites must reckon and that “business unionism” is not the only or best way to defend teachers as workers and public education as a system. Teacher union activists have shown we can both protect education workers’ dignity and many of the needs of the communities and children we serve. The burgeoning support for teacher unionism that advances social justice as a core principle has made both NEA and AFT alter their rhetoric and, in some cases, their policies. The movement’s exciting growth has shown what teachers’ labor activism can accomplish.15

    When Mary Compton and I edited The Global Assault on Teaching, Teachers, and Their Unions (Palgrave, 2008), we addressed a burgeoning young movement, which has flourished in ways we could not predict. I assume readers have a general familiarity with the ideas Mary and I laid out, which I don’t summarize in this book.16 Mary and I decided not to name capitalism because we wanted our arguments to be persuasive to education activists who did not self-identify as anti-capitalist. But a new generation has been radicalized in the United States, and talk of capitalism—and socialism—is now widespread among opponents of the status quo. Thus, this new book names capitalism and explores the implications of understanding it as a social system.

    Education workers who are labor activists often have at least three jobs: their work in the school, their labor activity, and union reform. Participation in movements for social justice and family responsibilities make their schedules impossibly taxing. To address this reality, I again write informally, in first person, minimizing jargon. I make statements that are bolder than I would in an academic article because I try to duplicate what readers say was most useful in my earlier work: creation of a narrative that expressed ideas they intuited and felt and yet couldn’t synthesize. To make this book more useful as research, I include extensive narrative endnotes, a format I have learned was used by the German Social Democratic Party (SPD) in its pamphlets for workers. (Reading the text straight through, without looking at the end notes, may help you to more easily follow the thread of the argument.) Whenever possible I cite references that are open-access, often with pdfs on Google Scholar. The notes are suggestive, not comprehensive, and I apologize to the many scholars and activists who have informed my thinking, in publications and private conversations, but whom I don’t cite. I continue to learn so much from education workers and the scholar-activists supporting the movement, and I acknowledge that debt and thank you.

    Using an idea from a young comrade more knowledgeable than I about synergies between print publication and social media and the changing left landscape, I am publishing this book by an untraditional method. Organizations and publications sympathetic to the book’s purpose will publish the chapters serially. The left website Tempest will publish the second chapter online. An online public event will follow publication of each chapter, in sessions that I hope will model what we know from educational research about encouraging construction of knowledge to support organizing and political education.17

    In concluding this first chapter, I note parallels between the system of mass public education when it was newly created a century ago, as a response to social upheaval during the industrial revolution, and our challenge today.18 Though her language differs from mine, Margaret Haley, a socialist and suffragist, and founding organizer of the first U.S. teachers union affiliated with organized labor, sums up many of this book’s premises. Haley organized a union of elementary school teachers—all women—in Chicago, the first in the AFT, which is why the Chicago Teachers Union is Local 1. In what is probably her most famous speech, “Why Teachers Should Organize,” which she gave in 1904 to the NEA, at that time a professional organization of school administrators, she articulates her vision as a teacher and union organizer of why teachers’ work is unique:

    If there is one body of public servants of whom the public has a right to expect the mental and moral equipment to face the labor question and other issues vitally affecting the welfare of society and urgently pressing for a rational and scientific solution, it is the public school teachers whose special contribution to society is their own power to think, the moral courage to follow their convictions, and the training of citizens to think and to express thought in free and intelligent action.

    Haley then described the reciprocity of teachers’ work with labor struggles and the urgency of recognizing how both relate to the fate of democracy:

    How shall the public school and the industrial workers in their struggle to secure the rights of humanity through a more just and equitable distribution of the products of their labor, meet their mutual responsibility to each other and to society? … The essential thing is that the public school teachers recognize the fact that their struggle to maintain the efficiency of the schools through better conditions for themselves is a part of the same great struggle which the manual workers—often misunderstood and unaided—have been making for humanity through their efforts to secure living conditions for themselves and their children; and that [behind] the unfavorable conditions of both is a common cause.

    The “common cause” of attacks on public education, teaching, and conditions of work is capitalism, which subordinates workers’ rights to profit. And, as she observes at the end of her speech, the struggle for control over work and uses of technology cannot be separated from the fight for democracy, at the workplace and in society:

    Two ideals are struggling for supremacy in American life today: one, the industrial ideal dominating through the supremacy of commercialism, which subordinates the worker to the product and the machine; the other, the ideal of democracy, the ideal of the educators, which places humanity above all machines and demands that all activity shall be the expression of life. If this ideal of the educators cannot be carried over into the industrial field then the ideal of industrialism will be carried over into the school. Those two ideals can no more continue to exist in American life than our nation could have continued half slave and half free. If the school cannot bring joy to the work of the world, the joy must go out of its own life, and work in the school, as in the industrial field, will become drudgery.

    For much of my life, Haley’s assumptions that teachers are workers and analysis of their work is central to understanding what occurs in capitalism have been marginal in the academy and the left.19 We owe a debt to Haley and to the movement that has demonstrated her ideas are as relevant today as they were a century ago.

    In the next chapter, I explore how understanding capitalism as a social system helps to clarify linkages between social movements fighting for justice, equality, democracy, and peace and labor’s responsibilities to those struggles. I take a deep dive into material about alterations that information technology has made to knowledge and cultural work and combine insights from this body of work to theories of social reproduction. New Politics will host a webinar shortly after publication of this first chapter. Details to be announced.

     Notes

    1. On methodology: The findings supporting claims in this book come from a meta-analysis of relevant scholarship. My assumptions are explicit and frame my questions, while being kept separate from my analysis, which I strive to make objective. I read, synthesize, and apply scholarship from several disciplines, looking for overlaps, omissions, and contradictions. After doing a preliminary dive into material to crystallize a hypothesis, I try to locate relevant material research that supports, complicates, and contradicts the patterns I’ve identified. My ideas come from published scholarship as well as webinars, podcasts, and conversations with activists. The advantage of the meta-analysis is that it enables one to examine a huge scope of material, making connections that are missed in the silo-ization of disciplinary knowledge, academic departments, and the tendency toward single-issue-ism of social movements. A disadvantage of this methodology is that I may connect the dots incorrectly, so the pattern and picture aren’t accurate. To address this limitation, I use an iterative process, revising ideas against new material I read, looking especially for empirical evidence or theories that contradict my hypothesis or conclusions.
    2. Ben Williamson and Anna Hogan, Commercialisation and Privatisation in/of Education in the Context of Covid-19 (Education International, July 2020), 28. This report documents the global nature of the project and its acceleration during the pandemic. In “Pearson 2025: Transforming teaching and privatising education data” (2019), Sam Sellar and Anna Hogan describe why privatization of data is a source of huge profits and detail Pearson’s global ambitions.
    3. See here. The PPI created a Center for New Liberalism six months after The Neoliberal Project. The Neoliberal Project boasts that it has “40 chapters around the world, a podcast listened to over 300,000 times and a social media reach of over 15 million impressions a month.”
    4. Samuel Bowles and Herbert Gintis’s Schooling in capitalist America: Educational reform and the contradictions of economic life (1976) made the important case about schooling’s function in reproducing capitalist economic relations. Yet it flattened processes educational researchers have found when looking inside schools. Consider Jean Anyon’s work, written at about the same time, “Social class and school knowledge” in Curriculum inquiry (11, no. 1, 1981), 3-42; and “Social class and the hidden curriculum of work” in the Journal of Education (reprinted in Childhood socialization (Routledge, 2017), 369-94. Anyon used Bowles and Gintis but also Bourdieu and provided empirical evidence of how social reproduction occurs in classrooms. Pauline Lipman’s research about Chicago is a more contemporary corrective to Bowles and Gintis, critically examining school reforms under neoliberalism from the micro (how schools are organized, funded, and closed) to the macro (capitalism globally), integrating race and social class. Her book The new political economy of urban education: Neoliberalism, race, and the right to the city (Routledge, 2013) is a classic worth reading. However, a strong article, available online, that sets out her ideas is “Contesting the city: Neoliberal urbanism and the cultural politics of education reform in Chicago,” Discourse: Studies in the cultural politics of education (32.2, 2011), 217-34.
    5. Powerful transmission of values and beliefs occurs outside of schools, and my focus on schools should not be construed as diminishing influences of other ways we learn about who we are—or should be—as a society. Religious institutions, media, and popular culture shape our views of ourselves and the world, as the body of research produced in critical cultural studies has documented and explained.
    6. School desegregation often identified Hispanics as white, creating from the start “majority minority” schools that were classified as desegregated. I learned a great deal from Reynaldo A. Contreras and Leonard A. Valverde, “The impact of Brown on the education of Latinos,” The Journal of Negro Education (63.3, 1994), 470-81, about the history of school segregation of Latinos and their resistance. There is too much valuable research about how construction of race as a Black/white binary affected education of Hispanics for me to discuss. However, one aspect of debates about bilingual education that has been ignored is how many Hispanic immigrants speak an indigenous language as their first language and Spanish as their second, an important issue in learning another language. Angela Valenzuela’s work about the ways in which teaching English language learners can be additive or subtractive complements other work that exposes how “deficit paradigms” drive school reforms that claim to promote equal educational opportunity. A book chapter summarizing Valenzuela’s ideas is available in pdf: “Subtractive schooling, caring relations, and social capital in the schooling of U.S.-Mexican youth,” Beyond Silenced Voices: Class, Race, and Gender in United States Schools (SUNY Press, 2005), 83-94.
    7. See Wayne Au’s “Meritocracy 2.0: High-stakes, standardized testing as a racial project of neoliberal multiculturalism,” Educational Policy (30.1, 2016), 39-62 (available on Researchgate) to understand why education activists were aghast when Jacobin printed an article defending use of the SATs for college admission. Left readers are probably aware that countless studies have shown the ways “gifted and talented” programs sift students based on social class and parents’ level of formal education, as well as parent networks. They may be interested in research about reforming schools to provide all students, including those considered “at risk” of school failure, code for low-income children of color, to the kinds of curriculum and teaching reserved for “gifted and talented” students. See Henry Levin and Wendy S. Hopfenberg, Accelerated Schools for At-Risk Students (Consortium for Policy Research in Education, 1988). Christine Sleeter contextualizes emergence of “learning disabilities” in “Why is there learning disabilities? A critical analysis of the birth of the field in its social context,” Disability Studies Quarterly (30.2, 2010), available in a pdf online. Early, deep links between the military, education reform, and technology, are explored in Douglas D. Noble’s pioneering work, The classroom arsenal: Military research, information technology and public education, originally published in 1991, reissued by Routledge, 2017. It is available only in book form, to my knowledge. Kenneth Saltman and David A. Gabbard look at newer connections between militarization of school life and corporatization post-9/11 in Education as enforcement: The militarization and corporatization of schools (Routledge, 2003). The introduction is available here.
    8. Alas, much scholarship by researchers of color that has informed my thinking is only available to those with access to university research libraries. One such author is Michèle Foster, whose early empirical work on the experiences of Black teachers, and how they and parents understand good teaching, still resonates. The “Brown Lectures” of the American Educational Research Association, which are available as webcasts, are useful snapshots of some of the best critical research on race and racism in education. The lectures skew older because the Brown Lecture recognizes lifetime achievement. Critical race theory also includes scholarship on indigenous peoples and linguistic minorities, in particular this nation’s largest group of English-language learners – Hispanics. Lectures by Vanessa Siddle Walker, Prudence Carter, James Anderson, Richard Milner, Luis Moll, and Gloria Ladson Billings are here.
    9. One of the most comprehensive examinations of teaching as work was conducted by a collective of radical teachers, the Boston Women Teachers’ Group, in the late 1970s. See Sara Freedman, Jane Jackson, and Katherine Boles, The Effects of the Institutional Structure of Schools on Teachers (1982). Studies by Sari Biklen, Sandra Acker, Raewyn Connell, and Diane Reay are important exceptions to the tendency of feminist scholarship to ignore teachers’ work as a labor process. In “Class work: Mothers’ involvement in their children’s primary schooling” (1998), Reay skewers romanticized notions of “partnership” between mothers and teachers, examining racial and class stratification as reflected in mothers’ material and cultural resources. Reay, along with a few others, mostly British, Australian, and Canadian feminist researchers in education, anticipate new work in social reproduction by explaining that labor-market definitions of work and social class that are static neglect the key role of women in class formation. As Reay puts it, “Individuals do not occupy a location, they act in situations” (Reay, 23). Chloe Asselin and I analyze evidence about the absence of attention to teachers’ work and unions across the academy in “Learning from Lacunae in Research: Making Sense of Teachers’ Labor Activism,” available open access from Hipatia Press. In “Research on Teachers’ Labor Activism and Teachers Unions: Implications for Educational Policy, Scholarship, and Activism,” Chloe Asselin, Leah Z. Owens, Erin Dyke, Keith E. Benson, and I explore theories that explain social oppression in capitalism understood as a social system. We draw on research on four topics: Black teachers organizations; social movement unionism outside the United States; gender and sexuality; and the “red state” teacher walkouts, applying various theories that explain social oppression. The manuscript, which has been solicited for a publication of the American Educational Research Association, is a work in progress, available on Academia. We invite comments.
    10. See Miriam Frank’s article “Hard Hats and Homophobia” in New Labor Forum (Spring/Summer 2001), available from JSTOR. “We Took Care of Each Other” by Jonathan Kissam, June 23, 2021, at labornotes.org.
    11. Stump’s history, summarized in his official biography , illustrates one of the ideological tenets of the new iteration of the neoliberal project in education, “workforce development” through online programs, because education can and should mitigate the contour of the labor market. I explore how Sanders’ program for education reflected this dangerous idea in my Jacobin article (June 2019). I explore the rationale more fully, analyzing the role of the AFT and NEA, in Chapter 2, forthcoming in Tempest.
    12. NEPC’s materials, available from its website (nepc.colorado.edu) include useful advice on adopting software and digital platforms as well as close examinations of how ed-tech is privatizing education. One especially useful report by Faith Boninger, Alex Molnar, and Michael K. Barbour (2020) is on Summit Learning: “Big Claims, Little Evidence, Lots of Money: The Reality Behind the Summit Learning Program and the Push to Adopt Digital Personalized Learning Platforms.” Summit is used very widely, including by school districts in which social justice reformers lead their locals. See also “Investing for ‘impact’ or investing for profit? Social impact bonds, Pay for Success, and the next wave of privatization of social services.” An NEPC interview with Ben Williamson explains why the looming use of AI in teaching should concern us all.
    13. The easiest way to find these interlocks is to use “Little Sis” (the opposite of Big Brother), a project of the Public Accountability Initiative. However, in doing research for this chapter I saw the need for information to be updated. I hope readers will volunteer time, money, or both. More about Little Sis here.
    14. See Neil Campbell’s lament that teacher walkouts have linked poor pay and teaching conditions to public money being siphoned off to charter schools.
    15. The left and educational researchers have responded to teachers’ militancy and the burgeoning of “social justice unionism” in teacher union reform efforts with a valuable uptick of research, from which we have much to learn. I try to build on what I’ve read, watched, and heard in popular publications of the left and in educational and labor studies journals to make connections as yet unmade. I wish space and time allowed me to synthesize what we can learn from this new body of knowledge but my focus—and contribution—is explaining the terrain of our battlefield, to conceptualize how teachers’ activism as workers illuminates what’s needed to build more dynamic yet stable movements, including labor, to challenge capitalism’s ideological dominance and the social, political, and economic status quo.
    16. Mary created and maintained a website (www.teachersolidarity.com) until her death a few years ago. Though new material is not being added, the site remains as an archive of research and news reports about global struggles to defend public education and teaching. She would have contributed knowledge and insights to this book about the global context, in particular what is happening in the global South, that I cannot. However, I do examine the role of Education International, the international confederation of teachers unions, in another chapter.
    17. Later in the book, I suggest how to tap what we know from teaching, an under-utilized resource on the left. One example is how we organize discussions, or rather, depend on lecture and serial comments in which speakers do not engage with each other’s ideas. Much of what we know about supporting use of language to deepen learning and democratize access to creating shared understandings was produced by critical researchers who investigated how to alter classroom environments to make learning both richer and more democratic. The classic work is Courtney Cazden’s Classroom Discourse: The Language of Teaching and Learning (1988). Not coincidentally, Cazden and a group of like-minded scholars were pioneers in examining alterations made by the use of computers in classrooms, questioning who decides on their use. See Sarah Michaels, Courtney Cazden, and Bertram Bruce, “Whose Computer Is it, Anyway? Schools Embrace Computers Without Knowing Why.” Originally published in “Science for the People” in a special section in 1985 on computers in education, this article is now available open-access in pdf in several places.
    18. Although historians of education have written so much that illuminates aspects of how public education became what it is, I think David Tyack’s The One Best System (1974) is unsurpassed as a readable, comprehensive, compelling history. It is still in print, available for purchase.
    19. Haley’s speech, “Why Teachers Should Organize,” was published in the Journal of Education and is available at JSTOR open access. My analysis of Haley’s speech, “Teachers, Unions, and School Reform: Examining Margaret Haley’s Vision,” published in Educational Foundations (1996) is now available on Academia. When I submitted the article on Haley’s speech to an educational journal, one of the editors, a prominent radical education activist and critical scholar, wrote to me privately that it was clear teachers unions had no progressive potential. The quote from Dennis Carlson that opens the 1996 article describes and explains the anti-teacher union sentiment that permeated much educational research. An absolutely essential corrective to my piece as well as much scholarship on the early days of teachers unionism is Kate Rousmaniere’s article “White Silence: A Racial Biography of Margaret Haley,” Equity and excellence in education (34.2, 2001), 7-15. Rousmaniere describes what Haley and the union she organized failed to see or address: segregation of the Chicago schools and its teaching force, which resulted in an intensified exploitation of Black teachers. Unfortunately, to my knowledge Rousmaniere’s article has not (yet) been made open-access.
  • Was there a Revolutionary Social Democracy?

    Was there a Revolutionary Social Democracy?

    Finnish Revolution, 1917-18

    Review essay of Eric Blanc’s Revolutionary Social Democracy. Working Class Politics Across the Russian Empire (1882-1917), Leiden, Boston: Brill, 2021 (hardcover), Haymarket Books, 2022 (paperback).

    Sometimes one comes across an important book from which one learns about many matters while disagreeing with its main theses. One such work is Eric Blanc’s Revolutionary Social Democracy. Working Class Politics Across the Russian Empire (1882-1917), a book that is likely to become the focus of important debate on the left. This is a truly ambitious and encyclopedic history of what the author calls “revolutionary social democracy,” meaning the political trajectory of the various social democratic parties in central and eastern Europe that followed the politics of “orthodox Marxism” particularly identified with the early Karl Kautsky—a major Marxist theoretician of the German Social Democratic Party (SPD) at the turn of the 20th century, and editor of its journal Die Neue Zeit. Kautsky is best known for having been a leading opponent of the openly reformist “revisionism” proposed by his younger contemporary Edward Bernstein.  

    Besides the SPD, Blanc also follows the trajectory of the socialist parties in the borderlands of the Russian Tsarist Empire, in countries like Finland, Poland and Georgia, and especially of the Marxist socialist parties in those countries, such the SDKPiL (Social Democracy of the Kingdom of Poland and Lithuania), the party led by Rosa Luxemburg; the Jewish Bund; and the left-wing of the PPS (Polish Socialist Party). His work challenges many misconceptions about these parties. One important example involves the SDKPiL led by Rosa Luxemburg, which Blanc shows to have been far more centralized and organized from the top down than the Bolsheviks, the party that Rosa Luxemburg so intensely criticized for that very reason.

    For Blanc, one common denominator in the political trajectory of these parties is that they were seriously impacted by the defeat of the 1905 Revolution. It was that defeat, he argues, that pushed several Marxist parties to the right. Like the Russian Mensheviks, who adopted a more positive political orientation to the Russian bourgeoisie and ended up participating in the Provisional Government that was eventually overthrown by the October Revolution in 1917. Or like the Jewish Bund and the Ukrainian, Polish and Georgian Marxist parties, all of which followed the example of the Mensheviks in supporting the Kerensky government, which continued to support Russia’s participation in the war and failed to distribute land to the peasants. Elsewhere in his book, he points out that this conservatizing impact also led a significant number of Marxist “revolutionary social democratic parties” to support the involvement of their respective countries in WW1, with the exception of only three important parties: the PPS-Left and the SDKPiL in Poland, and the LSDP (Latvian Social Democratic Party), all of which joined the Bolsheviks in opposing that war (11). In light of the fact that most of the “revolutionary social democratic parties” supported the war, the question arises whether this was only as a result of their move to the right after 1905, or the result of long-term political and social traits of those parties preceding 1905.

    What makes a socialist party a revolutionary party?

    The fact that the majority of the above mentioned Marxist parties ended up supporting WW1, thus siding with the capitalist imperialist powers of that time, indicates that Marxist theoretical orthodoxy does not by itself make a revolutionary party. To qualify as revolutionary—in the sense of seeking to abolish capitalism—a party must also be a combat oriented party in both strategic and tactical terms. In strategic terms in the sense of adjusting its overall, long-term policies to its expectation that a socialist revolution will have to rely on the widespread use of force, primarily because of the violent opposition to it by those in power. In tactical terms, in the sense of being ready to engage in combat in the short run to respond to any violent attacks by the right or the “forces of order” against the party itself or, more broadly, against working class and progressive organizations and institutions.

    The strategic revolutionary use of force may lead to a major or a minor amount of violence and bloodshed depending on various circumstances, one of which relates to the existing relationship of forces between the revolution and the counterrevolution. If this relationship overwhelmingly favors the revolutionaries, the counterrevolutionaries might give up and surrender, thus eliminating more bloodshed. This is fundamentally what happened in Petrograd at the time of the October Revolution in 1917, when the revolutionaries prevailed with relatively few casualties on either side of the conflict. But when the relationship of forces fluctuates undecidedly between the two sides, a lot of blood flows, as it happened in Moscow, where the counterrevolutionaries were stronger than in Petrograd until the revolutionaries were able to prevail. But what needs to also be taken into account regarding the level of violence in a revolutionary conflict is the one perpetrated by the government in power before the armed encounter with the revolutionary forces, like the Tsarist government bloody repression of its opponents before it was overthrown  in February of 1917.

    In the case of the United States, any serious revolutionary socialist group must have a strategic long-term combat orientation given the very small likelihood that the ruling class will accept a peaceful transition to a socialist government. Even before that, it will likely dismantle the democratic political system the moment a socialist alternative becomes a real threat (a possibility that Karl Kautsky, in his better theoretical moments, contemplated for the Germany of his time). That is what the right-wing sectors of the ruling class are already trying to accomplish in the face of the comparatively much less threatening challenge to its political and economic power based on the substantial support coming from a decreasing white majority (found to have declined to 58 percent of the total population of the United States in the 2020 census). They are trying to accomplish this through a wide battery of measures aimed at restricting voting rights and vote counting safeguards, and by adopting extreme gerrymandering to sharply limit the political influence of racial and ethnic minority groups and white liberals, while propelling a vicious anti-immigrant agenda to make sure the narrowing 58 percent white majority does not soon become a minority. Faced with the increasing crises generated by the growing climate and ecological changes leading to massive flooding, food scarcities and pandemics, punctuated by recurring wars and major recessions, such as the one that occurred in 2007-2008, the US government will increasingly turn to “exceptional” undemocratic measures and further endanger an American democracy that even in the best of times was substantially curtailed by practices such as the undemocratic nature of Senate representation and powers when compared with those of the House of Representatives, the existence of the Senate filibuster, and the unequal representation built into the Electoral College.

    The weakness of democratic institutions and the readiness of reactionary forces to limit and even abolish democracy has a long history in the United States, as evidenced by the fact that it took no less than a bloody Civil War to abolish slavery, and by the subsequent violent oppression of Black people to keep them “in their place.” Also witness the later persecution and jailing of socialists and anarchists during World War I, with the Palmer raids to deport foreign-born radicals shortly after that war was over, the dispossession and internment of Japanese Americans in WW2 and the impact of McCarthyism afterwards. It is these considerations that a socialist party should take into account in developing a long-term strategy to combat them, and to be tactically ready to respond in the appropriate conjunctures.

    What faces us today are basically struggles for reforms and not for a revolutionary break, which is clearly not in the horizon. But what distinguishes the politics of revolutionary socialism in terms of their participation in reform struggles is its refusal to compromise the organizational and political independence, not only of working-class struggles, but more generally of the social movements fighting against various kinds of oppressions. This is paramount to preserve those organizations and movements as independent agents and prevent them from being co-opted and diverted into supporting the politics and priorities that are not theirs. This applies to joining coalition governments with pro-capitalist parties, labor-management cooperation schemes that move workers away from their adversarial relationship with the employers, no-strike pledges, and any other agreements that obscure the very real lines that divide the owners of capital from the workers.

    It is precisely the combative perspective, in both the long and the short run, that is missing in Eric Blanc’s analysis of what he calls “revolutionary” socialist parties. The absence of this perspective not only tinges his treatment of the non-revolutionary character of many of what he calls revolutionary parties, but also affects his historical interpretation of revolutionary events, as in the case of Lenin’s famous “April Theses,” that he presented on his return to Russia during the early stages of the Russian Provisional Government in 1917. Blanc argues that supporters of Lenin are wrong in claiming that the Theses were an attempt to change the orientation of the Bolshevik Party from supporting the Provisional government to opposing it. Blanc notes that although on March 3 (shortly after the overthrow of Tsarism), the Bolshevik Petersburg Committee decided not to support the Provisional Government, it resolved “not to oppose the Provisional Government power in so far as its actions comply to the best interests of the proletariat and the broad masses of the democracy and the people.” That means, Blanc argues, that it is incorrect to claim that these Bolsheviks had adopted the Mensheviks position of unqualified support for the Provisional Government. Instead, their resolution merely implied that they did not immediately seek to overthrow the regime and would support any specific progressive measures it implemented. (373) Even if Blanc is correct in his interpretation of the Bolsheviks’ position preceding Lenin’s arrival in Russia, he misses the significance of the different assessment of the situation underlying Lenin’s implicit criticism of the Bolsheviks position. In contrast with the Petersburg Bolsheviks, his assessment assumed a far more unstable, precarious and short-lived existence of a Provisional Government that was not likely to endure given the existing crises provoked by the exhaustion of Russia’s continuing participation in the war, and whose political composition prevented it from delivering on the most elementary popular demands for land, peace and bread. It was in light of that assessment that Lenin was trying, through his Theses, to harden the Bolshevik Party, including the Petersburg Committee members, in order to prepare them for the imminent crises facing the Provisional Government and the whole country. In effect, he was attempting to move the Bolsheviks’s combat perspective from a general, strategic long-term orientation to a tactical one—a key transition, especially in the revolutionary situation they were entering.

    Closely related to the absence of a combative perspective in Blanc’s analysis, is his notion of “defensive politics,” which he suggests is the way that revolutionaries do and should function, even asserting that the “October Revolution itself was also a ‘defensive revolution’ and (that) the Bolsheviks similarly cast their politics in defensive terms.” It is true that there were circumstances which forced the Bolsheviks into adopting defensive positions. It could be argued, for example, that was the situation in which the Bolsheviks found themselves in the 1917 “July Days,” a failed uprising that the Bolsheviks decided to support, not without misgivings, after it had broken out in the open. Or when the Bolshevik leadership practiced “transitional politics,” like when it joined the demand for the removal of the “10 capitalist ministers,” or non-socialist ministers, from the Provisional government in the early summer of 1917, as part of the Bolshevik effort to broaden their coalition to advance the revolutionary political agenda at a time when the situation was not yet ready for insurrection. However, the overall Bolshevik policy from March to November could hardly be considered defensive, as in fact it was strategically and tactically oriented towards a revolutionary insurrection.

    Karl Kautsky

    One of the purposes of Eric Blanc’s new book it to rehabilitate Karl Kautsky, the leading theoretician of the German SPD, or more precisely the pre-1910 Kautsky, as a “revolutionary social democratic” leader. How does the “good Kautsky”—the Kautsky before 1910, the year he started on a right-wing path that eventually took him to oppose the October Revolution—measure up as a “revolutionary” leader in theory and in practice? For Kautsky, the revolution would not necessarily involve any kind of forceful or violent confrontational break.  He did allow for the possibility of forceful ruling class resistance, but it is clear that he mostly expected a peaceful transition to socialism. As he stated in  The Road to Power (1909), his single most important work addressing the issue of the overthrow of capitalism, that overthrow would take place based on the growth of a highly organized  working class peacefully voting the bourgeoisie out of power against the background of a naturally decaying capitalist system: “we know that the proletariat must continue to grow in numbers and gain in moral and economic strength, and that therefore its victory and the overthrow of capitalism is inevitable.”  Kautsky’s belief in the inevitability of the end of capitalism and the ascent of socialism was hardly unique to him. But in his particular case, it was linked to a “scientific” evolutionism, described by Massimo Salvadori in his Karl Kautsky, as the “fusion of Marxism and Darwinism [that] served to inspire Kautsky with a conception of the revolutionary process as the development of an organic necessity.” (23) Kautsky’s application of natural principles to social phenomena was, and is, a far cry from the Marxist dialectic method posing the opposition between conflicting and irreconcilable forces and interests as the dynamics governing a society. Organic analogies and their teleological character do not match the historical record of a relatively open and indeterminate processes where the objective possibilities that capitalist crises open to the working class and socialist movement have never been certainties as they have been missed, mishandled, or crushed, thus leading to defeats rather than to inevitable victories.

    Having known about the bloody repressions to insurrectionary workers’s and popular movements such as the classic case of the Paris Commune in 1871, Kautsky did allow for the theoretical possibility of a violent resistance by the ruling class. And yet, for reasons discussed below, he placed his expectations on a peaceful transition to power. That explains why he disregarded and even dismissed any discussion about the preparation and education of the working class to overcome the violent resistance of the ruling class to the overthrow of capitalism, and the role of the SPD in that confrontation, which as he stated in The Road to Power: “The Socialist party is a revolutionary party, but not a revolution-making party…It is not part of our work to instigate a revolution or prepare the way for it…” (50)

    Kautsky and the German Social Democratic Political Culture of his time

    We cannot adequately understand Karl Kautsky’s un-revolutionary politics unless we place him in the context of the society and party of which he was a leading theoretician, which could not but have influenced his general view of socialist politics, including his view of revolution. Germany, one of the most economically developed countries at the turn of the twentieth century, and with the most important social democratic party of Europe, could not be fully considered to be a parliamentary democracy. The political system at the time was substantially less than fully democratic, with limited suffrage rights and dangerous militaristic and imperialist tendencies. From 1878 to 1890, only twenty years before Kautsky’s right turn, the SDP had been declared illegal under the Anti-Socialist laws, leading to the legal persecution of party activists many of who ended up in prison or in exile, an experience and memory that should have countered or at least tempered any optimism among its leaders despite the rapid growth in the party’s membership and its electoral success. Most importantly, from 1918 to 1923, Germany, one of the most industrialized and wealthy countries in the world, witnessed a series of major revolutionary outbreaks led by the working class and their widespread bloody repression involving the direct participation of the regular forces of German “law and order” as well as of paramilitary formations supported and staffed to a considerable extent by embittered veterans of World War I.

    Eric Blanc argues that the semi-authoritarian political context prevailing in the Germany of Kautsky’s times led Marxists to adopt a strong educationalist ethos with an emphasis on building an organized proletarian subculture and patiently spreading the “good word” of socialism, rather than on promoting risky mass actions or winning immediate parliamentary reforms. (90-91) With this, Blanc is in effect conceding that Kautsky’s SDP was not a revolutionary party. Yet, he glosses over that when he writes, without questioning it, that Kautsky and other revolutionary social democrats contended that the persistent promotion of proletarian education and collective association was revolutionary in itself, as long as it was consistently linked to the assertion of the party’s end goals. (56)

    That the assertion of final goals is not very meaningful unless these goals are continually nourished by the daily militant practice of party members and the working class, was not countenanced. Instead, the SPD put its focus on the growth of its parliamentary representation and of its unions, a growth that contributed to the rapid bureaucratization of the party—with the swelling of a party bureaucracy intent in playing the parliamentary game, and especially of a union bureaucracy intent in avoiding any risky militant actions in order to preserve its gains—and the development of a fairly conservative politics, particularly among its leading union leaders. Thus, for example, many SPD trade union leaders argued for moving what had become the traditional and important May Day strike to the Sunday closest to May 1, thereby making the strike a risk-free celebration instead of the symbolic but no less real expression of labor militancy. The union leaders also strongly opposed the expansion of the SPD youth movement that was well-known for its militant anti-militarist orientation (militant left-wing youth sections have been a frequent feature of conservative and bureaucratic social democratic parties.)

    At the same time, the SPD created a dense network of schools, clubs, associations, and festivals that established an alternative world for the German working class. Some students of the German SPD, such as Guenther Roth in The Social Democrats in Imperial Germany. A Study in Working Class Isolation and National Integration (1963), saw this alternative world as a separate subculture walled off from mainstream institutions and values. Twenty-five years later, Vernon L, Lidtke, another student of the SPD, argued against Roth, in The Alternative Culture. Socialist Labor in Imperial Germany (1988) that the impressive set of alternative social institutions created by German Social Democracy, was in fact influenced by mainstream German culture. Specifically, Lidtke held that “ideological vagueness tended to win over theoretical precision and traditions from various segments of German burgerlich society and culture were carried over into the labor movement.” (191) Independently of Roth’s and Lidtke’s arguments, it is clear that the political culture sponsored by the SPD encouraged passivity rather than an outward looking militant stance aiming at establishing its political hegemony over German society at large.

    The fact that the SPD’s bureaucratization and its alternative social world ended up encouraging in the German working class of the early twentieth century a culture of political adaptation instead of resistance to the imperial German social and economic juggernaut had been recognized by important thinkers outside of the socialist and Marxist traditions. Max Weber was highly skeptical of the revolutionary pretentions of much of the SPD’s leadership and denied that the SPD was a revolutionary party. Weber’s views were likely influenced by the work of Robert Michels, Political Parties, exposing, in great detail, the bureaucratic and anti-democratic character of the German SPD. Scholars Wolfgang J. Mommsen and Lawrence A. Scaff have noted that there was a close personal and mutual intellectual influence between Max Weber and Robert Michels, which was reflected in the structural, sociological influence of Weber on Michels’ major work.

    Michels’ claim that his research on the SPD proved the existence of an “iron law of oligarchy” is highly questionable. What he proved is the existence of an oligarchical tendency in political organization that could be balanced and overcome by democratic counter-tendencies. That he later became a supporter of Fascism, does not detract at all from the validity and devastating character of his findings. Michels originally published his classic in 1911, which suggests that his research was mostly carried out in the years when the “good Kautsky” was proclaiming “orthodox Marxism” in an organization that had already gone a long way to become the very opposite of a “revolutionary social democratic party.”

    Reflecting the predominant ideology of the SPD that viewed itself as a working-class bulwark but not as a party aspiring to acquire the political hegemony over all oppressed groups in the country, Kautsky’s politics, like that of most other SPD leaders, were “workerist” in that it grossly underestimated the need to address the problems of the rural population and the middle class  to win them over as allies of a working-class movement that would then function as a true “tribune of the people.” Instead, the SPD’s opposition to land distribution on the schematic grounds that it would reinforce capitalist social relations was blind to the social class and political realities of Germany. Compare this attitude with the Bolshevik’s shrewd decision to adopt the Socialist Revolutionary (SR) program of land distribution (in usufruct rather than as private property that could be bought and sold as commodities) as part of the program of the October Revolution. The political blindness of the SDP had enormously tragic consequences when it later facilitated middle class and rural support for the Nazis.

    Eric Blanc knows all of this and much more. It is true that Kautsky should have kept present the lessons of the German anti-socialist laws and of the massacres that occurred after the smashing of the Paris Commune. But Blanc is familiar with that plus over an additional century of violent capitalist repression of rebellions and revolutions. It is true that capital has increased its huge capacity and power to crush revolutions. But by the same token, it is not tenable to put forward an ambiguous position regarding the possibility of a peaceful road to socialism or to maintain, as he does throughout this book, that an entirely defensive politics can be successful in gaining power.

    The Failed Finnish Revolution of 1918

    To prove the potential of the “defensive politics” of this “revolutionary social democracy,” Blanc points to the revolution led in 1918 by the Finnish Social Democratic Party. Blanc’s own analysis of the Finnish social democrats, including the party’s left, more radical wing, actually shows that their commitment to “defensive politics” regardless of circumstances led to do too little and too late to actually take power.

    Finland, was, at the time of World War I, a small country attached to the Tsarist empire. It enjoyed a substantial degree of autonomy under that regime. Its economy was mostly agricultural: while 15 percent of its labor was engaged in industrial activity, 71 percent was involved in agriculture and forestry, although half of the labor force in those areas were wage workers.

    As Eric Blanc tells the story, since its foundation in 1899 the Finnish SDP had a parliamentary orientation and did not call for even the gradual contest of power, let alone for an empire wide revolution, but instead called for universal suffrage. The party considered the general strike a risky tactic and instead tended to see the legal system as a solution to many political problems. Pointing to the party’s development oriented to proletarian organization and electoral work, and downplaying mass action, Blanc argues that “while focusing on mass action proved to be indispensable for revolutionary practice in the rest of the Russian empire, the Finnish experience shows that there was no universal, ‘one size fits all’ approach for the most effective socialist balance of working-class association, education and action.” (139) But this poses the question of whether mass action is simply a tool among others, or whether it has a prominent strategic and tactical role to play in a presumably revolutionary party. Moreover, the prioritization of building the party with a focus on internal education and electoral work is likely to lead to political passivity.

    The political situation of Finland under Tsarism at the turn of the twentieth century was similar to the one in Germany after the abolition of the Anti-Socialist laws in 1890. So much so, that, as in Germany, the Tsarist government allowed the SPD to run for Parliament. But when the SPD won a parliamentary majority in 1916, the Tsarist government blocked the parliament from meeting. After the February 1917 revolution in Russia, when as a result Finland was left without an army or even police, the SDP did come to power although in a coalition government with the bourgeois parties. In doing this, the Finnish SDP was clearly to the right of Karl Kautsky who had criticized socialist leader Millerand for entering the same type of coalition government in France. But when the Finnish coalition cabinet approved legislation that transferred all imperial prerogatives to parliament except for foreign policy and military affairs, the Russian Provisional Government led by Kerensky and with the support of the Finnish right, removed the Social Democrats from the government, an act supported by the Menshevik-Socialist Revolutionary leadership of the Petrograd Soviet, the same people that, as Blanc points out, would a few months later denounce the Bolsheviks for dissolving the Constituent Assembly.

    The dissolution of the Finnish parliament opened the road for a mass radicalization clearly leading to a revolutionary explosion. In the midst of this red-hot situation, elections were held the following October. Although the Social Democrats declared that the elections were illegitimate, they decided to participate in any case and lost the elections by a narrow margin. The SDP continued to insist that the elections had been illegal from the start and that their defeat was the result of electoral fraud. The Social Democrats’ narrow loss may have been due at least in part to the fact that the party chose to campaign just on the issue of national independence from Russia while saying little about its social objectives, an approach that was consistent with its long-time commitment to play down radicalism in pursuit of its purely defensive policies and methods. A major outcome of the October elections was the right-wing government’s decision to reestablish order and disarm the worker guards that had been established in September with the consent of SDP party and trade union leaders in the context of a mass radicalization exacerbated  by a worsening food shortage. (Risto Alapuro, State and Revolution in Finland, 48-49) At the same time, upper class forces began to create and develop their own paramilitary forces to restore order and protect themselves from widespread “anarchy,” which was the right-wing term for what was in fact an insurrectionary explosion.

    Blanc addresses the critical question of why the SDP leadership at the high point of revolutionary agitation and strength after the SPD had lost the October elections, was unable to reach agreement on seizing power and instead called for a general strike on November 14, 1917. Blanc acknowledges that latter critics of the SPD leadership had good points to make regarding the party’s actions during those critical days especially because it allowed the bourgeois forces to build up their troops in the two subsequent months. He nevertheless insists that “there was no way of knowing during the general strike whether a more favorable moment for taking power might subsequently present itself.” (144) While undoubtedly an interesting analytical question from the point of view of an outside observer, it is dangerously irrelevant for those directly involved in the struggle from a tactical combat perspective. From this latter perspective, the decisive question was whether there was a reasonable chance for the revolutionary forces to prevail in an attempt to seize power in November or whether it would have been premature, if not suicidal to attempt to do so.

    In fact, as the Finnish socialist Pekka Haapakoski has noted, in response to the actions of the right-wing government, during one week from November 14 to 19, when the general strike was at last declared, the power was de facto in the hands of the workers. Local strike committees controlled the situation, disarming and often arresting local authorities, and controlled food supply through their own channels. (Pekka Haapakoski, “Finska klasskriget 1918” Internationalen, #5-7, 1974 translated from Swedish by Hannu Reime.) For their part, the SDP leaders, although participating in the general strike, were not capable of seizing that key political moment because they had no vision of what would be done with the power they had obtained since their whole previous history had not politically or psychologically prepared them to engage in organized revolutionary action.  As Haapakoski also noted, the response to the Finnish right-wing backlash coincided with the Bolshevik Revolution in November. The Bolsheviks were not able to provide significant material aid to the Finnish revolution before its defeat in early 1918 mostly because after losing considerable territory to the German Army, they were then involved in peace negotiation with the Germans at Brest Litovsk under very unfavorable conditions. Nevertheless, the victorious revolution in Russia did contribute to the militant spirit of the Finnish working class.

    As it happened, it was in January 1918 that the SDP leadership chose the revolutionary option, precisely at the time when the forces at their disposal were in fact much weaker than in November. At this time, the Red Guards were far from ready to wage war. The revolution had a defensive character as expressed by the passivity of the military operations with the socialists, unlike the Whites, devoting insufficient attention to the development of their military plans and resources. After Helsinki and southern Finland were under their control, the revolutionaries adopted a passive strategy to concentrate their efforts on administering this area rather than develop their military operations to occupy the whole country (157-158) It might very well be that in light of the substantial military intervention of the Germans the revolutionaries did not have a chance to win, but nevertheless the defensiveness, lateness and hesitations of the “revolutionary social democrats” did not at all help the revolution’s chances. Thus, while revolutionaries are often compelled to act in defensive terms, this approach is fatally flawed in the context of a revolutionary upsurge when defensiveness means acting too little and too late, and particularly not acting to win.

    Blanc refers to an SDP left led by people like O.W. Kuusinen, who years later would become a leading figure in the Finnish Communist Party that in fact may have perhaps better represented Blanc’s “revolutionary social democracy” than the mainstream leadership of the party. Based on Blanc’s account, one cannot but conclude that this was a vacillating group since they first resisted the entry of the SDP into a coalition government with the bourgeoisie but, as Blanc put it, ‘eventually went along with the entry of social democrats into a “national unity” government in April 1917,’ although at the same time they refused to take political responsibility for it.

    In the context of discussing the SPD left’s positive contributions to the party, Blanc criticizes the “Leninist” notion that revolutionaries should not participate in the same parties as reformists. In my view, however, this issue cannot be discussed in abstract general terms, but must take into account the relationship of forces between revolutionaries and reformists in a particular time and place. Such a key consideration may lead to the conclusion that revolutionaries, particularly if they are weak in numbers and strength, should definitely join those social democratic formations if these are real expressions of working-class consciousness and activity or have become a pole of attraction for left-wing activists. But that is not the end of the story, but rather whether revolutionaries should stay forever in those formations or whether substantially different social and political conditions may require that they split and form an independent revolutionary organization, particularly if, for example, a mass movement develops that the social democratic party opposes or refuses to support.

    Finally, it is also important to point out that the defeated Finnish revolution while of course progressive as a democratic revolution, did not make any changes that could be considered to be socialist in any meaningful sense of the term. Thus, even when the Social Democrats issued a program called “We Demand” at the height of their strength in November 1, the central demands included the election of a constituent assembly, immediate action on food and employment, implementation of the reforms approved by the previous parliament, and the dissolution of the bourgeois civil guards.  Had the January 1918 Revolution succeeded, Finland would have then most likely become a progressive, democratic, parliamentary republic with a significantly regulated capitalist economy. Perhaps the most important social gain would have been the enfranchisement of tenant farmers and their transformation into small holders. In 1901, the tenant farmers had constituted 17 percent of agrarian households compared with 35 percent for landowners and 48 percent for agricultural workers. (Alapuro, 150, 158-159, 43).

    Parliamentary democracy or Council Democracy?

    An important component of any party, especially that of any socialist party, including Blanc’s “revolutionary social democratic” parties, is the kind of economic and political system they envision for the society they seek to attain. Yet, Eric Blanc, only glosses through that topic criticizing “the rigid parliamentarism and legalism of modern social democrats, not to mention Leninism’s dubious projection of soviet power as the universal mode of working-class rule,” and recommending a vague “strategic flexibility” on the issue. This will hardly do as an adequate answer, particularly in the light of his exhaustive historical account and analysis of what he calls “revolutionary social democracy.”

    Many leftists and socialists regard a parliamentary system as a neutral institutional tool that can be used to democratically rule capitalist as well as socialist societies. Do Blanc’s “revolutionary social democrats” agree with this view? Does Blanc himself? Because as critical as he seems to be of what he calls the “modern rigid” parliamentarism, he seems to favor Kautsky’s politics primarily focused on a peaceful transition to socialism through a parliamentary elected majority of socialists. As equivocal or evasive as Blanc’s position might be on this question, it is worth posing it in the open: is parliamentary rule appropriate for a socialist democracy that involves not only political but also economic democracy? I would argue for entertaining the alternative Blanc ambiguously sidelines, the one based on workers councils, as the most appropriate institutional form for this new type of political and economic democracy.

    What were the Soviets as the workers’ councils were called in the Russian language? At the turn of the twentieth century all illegal Marxist groups in the Tsarist empire expected an anti-Tsarist insurrection to be led by the political representatives of the working class, namely the Marxist groups and parties themselves. They were very surprised when during the 1905 Revolution, in the course of a strike wave that spread from Moscow to St. Petersburg in October of that year, the striking workers themselves began to elect, on their own initiative, deputies (starosti) from their respective factories to represent them in councils—soviets—that they formed to discuss and decide on a wide variety of political and economic issues facing the working class and the country. These soviets soon turned into a general political organ representing all workers, and their revolutionary movement in Petrograd.

    The soviets re-emerged with the overthrow of Tsarism in February 1917, in a fashion similar to that of 1905, along with workers control of factories and major industrial establishments, and with the elected delegates to these councils subject to immediate recall by their constituents. These 1917 soviets spread from Petrograd to other large cities, industrial towns, cities and later to non-proletarian, smaller and more remote locations, becoming, in essence, a rival “dual power” to the Provisional Government by increasingly taking over government functions. A number of political parties became very active and indeed dominant in the soviets. These included the Socialist Revolutionaries (SR), Mensheviks, Bolsheviks, Anarchists and a number of smaller socialist groups. By the late summer and early fall of 1917, the Bolsheviks had obtained a majority in the soviets, which in turn became the political base of support for the successful October Revolution.

    It is this organizational council form, or its close equivalents, that have repeatedly sprung up in many different revolutionary and insurgent movements since the Russian Revolution, whether during the Spanish Civil War, the 1956 Hungarian Revolution, Allende’s Chile of the early seventies and the Portuguese Revolution in the mid-seventies, as the work of the late Colin Barker has shown. It points to the fact that the grass roots insurgencies of workers and their class allies have repeatedly aimed for the kind of direct control through such mechanisms as the right of immediate recall of elected representatives that conventional parliamentary democracy is unable to provide.

  • Black Freedom & Land Insecurity in Baltimore

    Black Freedom & Land Insecurity in Baltimore

    Image courtesy of Black Yield Institute.

     

    Baltimore is a category 5 hyper-segregated city or what Public Health scholar Lawrence Brown called “an apartheid city due to 105 years of racist policies and practices.” Brown wrote,

    Baltimore’s hypersegregated neighborhoods experience radically different realities. Due to this dynamic, the White neighborhoods on the map that form the shape of an ‘L’ accumulate structured advantages, while Black neighborhoods, shaped in the form of a butterfly, accumulate structured disadvantages. Baltimore’s hypersegregation is the root cause of racial inequity, crime, health inequities/disparities, and civil unrest1” (2016a).

    Following Brown’s observations, many scholars and journalists have gone so far as to describe the White L and Black Butterfly as two separate Baltimores: one of hyper-investment and capital accumulation and the other of hyper-disinvestment and decay. Perhaps this is why, while there has been a lot of scholarship written about East and West Baltimore (the “wings” of the black butterfly), the southern part of the city (majority Black and of color yet not a part of Brown’s “butterfly”) often gets left out of the historiography. Included in the forgotten south, is the neighborhood of Cherry Hill2 and included in Cherry Hill, is the Black Yield Institute (BYI). In what follows, we provide a brief history of the founding and evolution of Cherry Hill, before describing Black Yield Institute as the Black-led grassroots organization leading the fight against food apartheid, and the importance of the Green New Deal.

    Cherry Hill History

    Cherry Hill was a result of one of the “ugliest episodes of white rage in Baltimore’s history.3” (Noor 2019) This “toxic” and peripheral land was chosen by the city for the placement of a housing project at a moment when there was a housing shortage for industrial workers. Many Black people had migrated to Baltimore during the 1940s in search of decent industrial jobs. The Cherry Hill community was developed in an act of legislation known as the Servicemen Readjustment Act of 1944, also known as the GI BILL, which assisted returning vets with employment, education, and housing. Baltimore City officials were compelled by political mandate, overpopulation, and a public health crisis to make the land and housing available for Black families. The Housing Authority of Baltimore City (HABC) chose this site because of its isolation from the rest of the city given white opposition to integrated neighborhoods4 (Winbush et al 2015). The NAACP protested this location for the placement of public housing projects due to “unsuitable environmental conditions.” There were several industrial plants, the city’s Reedbird Incinerator, a landfill site, and many other environmental hazards already in the region. Despite the protests, however Cherry Hill was selected as the site of the first planned Negro Suburb, labelled by The Baltimore Sun, “The model Negro Village” (Winbush et al, 2015). In October of 1943, HBAC announced they would build 600 housing units for African American workers. And shortly after the war, all 600 units were converted into low-income housing.

    The city–while demolishing public housing–found land that was “acceptable” for poor Black folks in the most isolated and toxic area of Baltimore. In 1950, the Baltimore City Council approved an urban renewal project which included the demolition of public housing and displacement of Blacks. The following year, in 1951, the HABC once again found reasons to continue building in the Cherry Hill area, rejecting 39 alternate locations seeing Cherry Hill as the “only politically acceptable vacant land site for Negro housing” (Winbush et al 2015). This was not an isolated event, but rather a policy designed to intentionally segregate, isolate Black people from white spaces. This was an environmentally “toxic community” built on toxic lands to house Black people; unlike other parts of the city where white flight led to segregated housing, this was “intentional segregation by design.”

    In 2010, 94.7 percent of Cherry Hill residents were American African. 28.2 were unemployed (compared to 11.1 percent of Baltimoreans). 45.1 percent of families in Cherry Hill were living in poverty compared to 15.2 of families throughout Baltimore City. Cherry Hill has a life expectancy of 69 years and a Healthy Food Index score of 7.9, which is extremely low, compared to Mt. Washington/Coldspring at 28.5 (BNIA, 2018), a community with a Whole Foods Market in its borders. Over 50% of the community are renters (BNIA, 2018); most members do not control or own land in the community. There are 13 food stores in the neighborhood—two convenience stores, nine fast food/takeout vendors, one specialty food store, and one liquor store (Jackson 2019). While the Cherry Hill Town Center previously housed several supermarkets and grocery stores, today there is no full-service grocery store; there has not been a grocery store in 15 years. The space once occupied by several grocery stores is currently operated by a Family Dollar. The closest supermarket is about two miles away. Logistically, it is difficult to access transportation to these healthy foods, with relatively low car ownership and limited public transportation (Jackson 2019) and healthy food availability is very poor. Almost all of the food available in Cherry Hill is low in nutrients and high in preservatives, salt and fats . Food carry outs, corner stores and convenience stores provide most of this food5 (Jackson 2019). Structural barriers like zoning codes, transportation, and traditional economic development trends also impact food apartheid. These numbers make obvious decades of the city’s divestment from the neighborhood. As a result of this systematic disinvestment Cherry Hill is considered a food apartheid region.

    Perpetual Land Insecurity and Placemaking in Cherry Hill

    Cherry Hill’s very existence is characterized by external control and discriminatory city policies. From the founding of the community, the destiny of the residents was largely determined by elected officials, public servants, and private corporations. Anecdotes from descendants of previous occupants reveal that Black people, along with white folks, were displaced in order to create the community we know as Cherry Hill. The community, through various federal public housing projects, was developed along with a large number of Housing Authority of Baltimore City (HABC)-managed properties. This translates into over half of the housing stock and land being owned by the federal government. Since the 1990s, families living in public housing have been displaced; toxic soils (as a result of the city incinerator and landfill mentioned above) and the oversaturation of public housing have been communicated to community leaders by federal agencies as the reasoning for such actions. In addition to the city, private corporations own and manage a significant portion of the housing stock in Cherry Hill Hill (see the map).

    Owner-occupied and renter-occupied housing, along with unoccupied and vacant units, make up the remaining portion of housing in Cherry Hill.

    The Cherry Hill peninsula is home to a robust history of Black placemaking. In spite of the limited self-determination and control of the food economy, Black families have created social, political, and economic opportunities historically and contemporarily. The resilience, resistance, and revolutionary action displayed throughout the past eight decades marks this space as home to some of the most radical social movements in the city. The 50s and 60s ushered in the development of social and political groups for the purposes of securing and protecting community amenities prohibited merely because of race. Churches, civil rights organizations, and community associations were established as centers of community strength, mutual aid, and community organizing6 (Breihan 2003). The 1970s and 80s included community reorganization amidst demographic shifts due to policy and social changes. Environmental justice organizing took the form of a group called Interested Citizens for Equality, or INCITE, and they were aligned with the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE). The Cherry Hill Coordinating Council disavowed the upstart organizations almost immediately, claiming they were “politically motivated.” The militant politics expressed by CORE, INCITE, and other Black Power organizations threatened to burst open the city’s typically staid municipal proceedings.

    Madeline Murphy authored a weekly column in the Afro American weekly newspaper, and for years defended Cherry Hill in the press, while holding city officials accountable for their promises to rid the community of the Reedbird Incinerator7 (Cummings 2021). Organizations like the Cherry Hill Development Corporation were established in order to address the increasing issues facing the community. Schools, faith institutions, youth development centers and other groups continued to support families, children, and adults in various aspects of community life. In the 1990s and 2000s, organizing efforts converged in the establishment of new housing developments, inviting current, new, and alum residents of Cherry Hill as renters and owners. Many organizations continue operations and new ones emerged to address specific needs or social problems in the community. The Cherry Hill Community Coalition was established in an effort to coalesce the efforts of all of the community organizations doing work in the community and to execute the plans formed in the Cherry Hill Master Plan. Today, Cherry Hill is one of the most organized communities in the city of Baltimore. One organization working in Cherry Hill that emerged in the 2010s was the Black Yield Institute.

    Black Yield Institute Forging a New Path

    Black Yield Institute (BYI) is a Pan-African power institution in Baltimore, Maryland.” The work and mission of BYI is two-fold: 1) combat food apartheid and 2) build movement toward Black Land and Food Sovereignty. BYI’s work to combat food apartheid includes urban agriculture and food cooperative development. The movement building work of BYI includes political education, research and knowledge creation, and action network building.

    According to BYI, Food Apartheid denies people the relationships with the producers of the food that they consume and the traditions that their ancestors have birthed and perfected through practice. Black people live in a state of separation and alienation from land stewardship. This type of food inequality is certainly the result of capitalism and white supremacy, which has denied closeness to many of the living systems that Black and Brown people in Baltimore and in Cherry Hill need to experience. Through the insidious human experiences within a food apartheid system, Black and Brown families are largely relegated to estranged relationships with other people and from the food and land that their ancestors intimately cultivated and stewarded. Black Land and Food Sovereignty organizing is necessary to restore these relationships and thus engage in radical intimacy. Additionally, organizing allows people to disinvest from oppressive systems that continue to disconnect us from our food sources, the land, and from ourselves. The primary goals are restoring and reclaiming relationships for the purpose of building power and establishing control of our food environments, food systems, and our own destinies.

    The direct response to food apartheid is through building and maintaining power. Black Land & Food Sovereignty, which comes from La Via Campesina’s definition of food sovereignty—the right of people to healthy, affordable food and centering people’s food and land desires over that of corporations—seeks to reconnect the generational impacts of food apartheid to the land. Black Yield has taken this general concept and adapted it to include a hyper-focus on Black, African peoples and the use of ideological and practice frameworks throughout the African Diaspora and leads to power building and greater control of food and land in urban and rural contexts. The ultimate work that Black Yield Institute is doing and aims to do is to denormalize food apartheid through a humanization process that connects the people to land, cultural traditions, and foodways. BYI’s emergent praxis is restoring the intimacy between people, food, the land, and culture.

    Black Yield works towards normalizing the practice of sovereignty by practicing and highlighting the significance of insourcing solutions to our problems created by imperialist practices rather than emphasizing the prioritization of outside sources of so-called help. An overall awareness of the role of self-determination in creating sustainable and healthy communities points us to the reality that waging struggle is the only way to bring about necessary shifts in the control of food, land, culture, and people.

    Freedom Dreams and Policy Implications

    Much of Black Yield’s political education (whether through Sankara Hamer Academy8) or the Black Food Research & Knowledge Creation scales up to influence and shape city-wide policies on land use and food access. In Cherry Hill, BYI and the larger community are organizing to create, what Ed Whitfield calls, liberated zones9 where the community can imagine and build the futures we want to see. Whitfield calls for us to “create freedom a little at a time” (Whitefield 2018). BYI is leading the charge to reimagine the use of land and the availability of culturally appropriate food for the purpose of freedom. The pursuit of Black Liberation through food sovereignty and land reparations is only possible through the activities and space that the organizers and the people create to practice freedom.

    BYI is working directly on establishing liberated zones. expanding upon the food economy-work already being done in Cherry Hill. BYI’s multi-tiered approach includes investments in infrastructure for food production, retail and distribution in Cherry Hill and South Baltimore. BYI currently stewards the Cherry Hill Urban Community Garden, a 1.25 acre farm located on HABC land, and anchors the organizing for the Cherry Hill Food Co-op. By 2022, BYI plans to expand the farming operations to a six- to ten-acre plot of land, including a nursery, cultural center, aquaculture, and agrotourism. This expansion will allow BYI to create worker-ownership opportunities for workers in South Baltimore. Cherry Hill Food Co-op, a cooperative grocery store project at the development phase, will be erected and operational by January 2024, based on the project trajectory and projections. The project is currently engaged in community political education and outreach throughout South Baltimore. BYI is also engaging in community-based business planning and mapping. The next major step in 2021 is to begin a major capital campaign to fund construction, inventory, hiring, marketing, and other major aspects of the cooperative grocery store effort. The significance of this project is rooted in the fact that the community will have a grocery store after fifteen years and community members-owners of the co-op will build community wealth, while lessening the impacts of extractive economic ventures.

    In terms of distribution, there are two major channels. BYI Marketplace is a community bi-monthly “pop-up” farmer’s and public market. Currently, the Marketplace is operable on the first and second Saturdays of every month. The initiative provides produce from our farm and others, while featuring other goods and services rendered by other local entrepreneurs. BYI will increase the frequency of the Marketplace as a permanent occupant of a newly renovated public market in late 2021. BYI will be able to increase their sales and access to more families as we expand the frequency of programmatic offerings and goods and services from Black microenterprises. POP Produce (pre-ordered produce) is a delivery service model that fashions logistics on a standard Community-supported Agriculture (CSA) framework. Within our model, elders and other community members can order produce from our list of available items on a weekly basis. BYI anticipates expansion of the initiative to the entire community in January 2022. BYI plans to reach over 200 unique households annually through the POP market.

    Over the next three to five years, BYI is undertaking the expansion and development of enterprises that build power, provide food and ownership opportunities, and create a model of Black Land and Food Sovereignty at the hyper-local, community level. BYI’s plans are demonstrative of how community-controlled movement institutions can serve as liberated zones created to hold freedom dreams.

    Black Yield has experimented with community-based participatory action research to develop targeted interventions. Their recent report, Community Control of Land: The People’s Demand for Land Reparations in the City of Baltimore,came out of a year and ½ of community dialogue, “listening sessions,” conversations, focus groups and a teach-in. What came out of this is: most community members believe that access to land is a human right, and that their current state of access is a violation of said right. In addition, participants across focus groups believed that access to a plot of communally owned land would create significant economic, public health, safety, and quality of life improvement potentials for their neighborhood10 (BYI 2021) In order to make Black neighborhoods matter, it became clear that city-wide investments in land reparations and tools, materials and resources for agro-ecology could drastically improve quality of life. It is also the role of government to protect residents from land speculators and predatory forms of development. Every neighborhood in Baltimore should have access to 1-2 acres of land: The city should be responsible for testing soils to determine the extent of the lots’ safety for community agricultural use, the city agencies should render no-cost land acquisition to Black communities as a form of reparations for the residual effects of redlining, and this should all be done with no strings attached (see Land Report, BYI 2020)

    Instead of working against grassroots interests, this report highlights how the city could utilize its power to protect Black communities and Black people from predatory developers and land speculators and ensure long-term community ownership of land and means of production.

    However, In 2021 BYI experienced an imminent threat to land security, as the farm they steward will be displaced by HABC in December of 2021. The decision to displace has been publicly communicated as a matter of compliance for The Department of Housing and Urban Development. Many community organizations have fought this and many other political debacles that have had adverse effects on community life, health, and wealth.

    BYI’s land reparations report and their Black food sovereignty work resemble larger policy pushes for a Green New Deal, especially a Black and Red New Deal. Legislators like Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (D-NY) push for a Green New Deal—which is a comprehensive plan for utilizing federal dollars to transition us away from fossil fuel industry and build urban and rural landscapes of renewable energy, guaranteeing climate-friendly work, no carbon housing and free transit. Ocasio-Cortez has suggested we need a Green New Deal for public housing which includes retrofitting all ailing and environmentally unhealthy infrastructure to provide social housing for the poor. Moreover, in July 2021 Rep. Jamal Bowman (D-NY) introduced legislation for a Green New Deal for Public Schools which includes some of the same proposals for ailing schools. This would put $1.4 trillion of federal dollars, redirecting $446 billion of grant funds, over 10 years toward decarbonizing and retrofitting the nation’s K-12 schools, particularly in high-need and socially vulnerable areas where schools represent another social and environmental hazard especially in poor communities of color. Bowman’s three impact areas are health and environmental equity, educational equity, and economic equity. The jobs will be given to local residents from construction to retrofitting to educating. These retrofits will turn schools into neighborhood resiliency hubs, making them key nodes of overall green community infrastructure, and of zero waste infrastructure.11 It is within this climate of progressive “squad” members proposing a Green New Deal that perhaps youth movements like Free Your Voice (an environmental justice youth movement in South Baltimore) can serve as a kind of model for how to do this engaged learning tied to environment and climate policy work.

    What is clear from all these policy pushes is that the ideas and the vision for change must emanate from Black and Brown communities and from the grassroots. The policy at the city, state and federal level must be defined, shaped and even implemented by Black and Brown organizers—As Indigenous scholar and activist Nick Estes writes, “Red Deal, focusing on Indigenous treaty rights, land restoration, sovereignty, self-determination, decolonization, and liberation. We don’t envision it as a counter program to the GND but rather going beyond it—‘Red’ because it prioritizes Indigenous liberation, on one hand, and a revolutionary left position on the other12.” (Estes 2019) The Red & Black New Deal13 is an initiative that takes action to mitigate the impact of the global climate crisis on Black and Indigenous Lives. The fight for climate justice must be a vision emanating out from Black and Native visions of liberation to claim rights to water, energy, land, labor, economy and democracy.

    The Green New Deal has the potential to connect every social justice struggle—free housing, free health care, free education, access to land and to healthy foods, green jobs—to climate change. However, if it is not guided by and coming out of the distinct historic experiences of Black and Brown communities, then, it will simply be co-opted by larger white NGO’s and white-led environmental organizations. Black Yield Institute and other Black-led organizations fighting for land reparations and food justice can be a model as we push for policy changes at state and federal level. For we are in a moment of climactic crisis, it is clear from the most recent IPCC report that we need action now. Instead of a top-down vision, we propose a bottom-up solution where federal funds support already-existing visions of freedom dreams, agro-ecology, land reparations, investments in education, and solidarity economics. The time is now and never has it been more urgent for Black and Brown communities to own the land, produce their own food, and create wealth that circulates back into their communities.

    1 Lawrence Brown, Two Baltimores: The White L versus the Black Butterfly, June 28, 2016

    2 Cherry Hill is a community located in the southern section of Baltimore, Maryland. The area is generally bounded to the North by Waterview Avenue/Hanover Street, Southeast by the Patapsco River, Southwest by the City boundary and West by Baltimore and Ohio Railroad. The area is composed of census tracts 2502.03, 2502.04 and 2502.07. The community is located south of the Inner Harbor/central business district of Baltimore City (Morgan State Report)

    3 Jaisol Noor, et al, Battleground Baltimore The Fight for Green Spaces, July 2, 2021.

    4 Raymond Winbush et al, A Comprehensive Demographic Profile of Cherry Hill Community in Baltimore City, Morgan State July 2015.

    5 Eric Jackson, Cherry Hill Food Co-op Readiness Report, 2019.

    6 See John R. Breinham, Cherry Hill a Community History, Loyola College in Maryland 2003.

    7 See Daniel Cumming, ​​ All That’s solid melts into Air: A Suburban Crisis, Toxic Incineration and the Wastelanding of South Baltimore 1943-1983, Dissertation, NYU 2021.

    8 The Sankara Hamer academy is Black Yield’s school of political education with a focus on Black land and food sovereignty. The Academy entails monthly educational gatherings; community and organization-requested workshops; and a 15-week leadership development course.

    9 Ed Whitefield, What must we do to be free? On the building of Liberated Zones, Journal of Social Equity 2(1): 45-58, 2018.

    10 BYI, Community Control of Land The People’s Demand for Land Reparations in Baltimore City, March 2021.

    11 Jamal Bowman, A Green New Deal for Public Schools, 2021 https://bowman.house.gov/_cache/files/2/9/297d4603-cabd-43bd-9ab0-044c21be7f7a/F58C35F28FBC115F0D531D7D185C9E01.gnd-for-public-schools-act-final.pdf

    12 Nick Estes, A Red Deal, August 8, 2019.

    13 For more on the Red, Black and Green New Deal, See https://redblackgreennewdeal.org/

  • Increased U.S. Military Spending Means More Militarism, Imperialism, and War

    Increased U.S. Military Spending Means More Militarism, Imperialism, and War

    Military budget of different nations.

    This article was written for L’Anticapitaliste, the weekly newspaper of the New Anticapitalist Party (NPA) of France.

    The U.S. Congress is completely divided, Republicans versus Democrats. Except when it comes to the military. Bills for working people can’t be passed. But there’s always money for the generals and the arms-makers.

    Last week the U.S. Congress passed and President Joseph Biden signed the military spending bill for 2022 at a cost of $768 billion, $24 billion more than requested. The bill pays for ship, submarines, aircraft, and all sorts of weapons, as well as the pay for military personnel. The House passed it earlier in December by a vote of 363-70 and it clear the Senate 89-10. The no-votes came from more progressive Democrats who generally wish to limit military spending.

    Among specific provisions of the bill are $28 billion for nuclear weapons programs, $7.1 billion to strengthen positions against China, and $4 billion for the European Deterrence Initiative to resist Russia, which at the moment seems prepared to invade Ukraine.

    The National Defense Authorization Act (NDAA) also contained some element of reform. For example, calling upon the military to root out extremism after 38 of the 250 people charged for the January 6 insurrection turned out to have served in the military. It also made some reforms in the system of military justice because of the 20,500 cases of “unwanted sexual assault” (including anything from groping to rape) reported in 2018. The act did not, however, repeal the Iraq War resolution of 2002, used by Trump to assassinate Qasem Soleimani in January of 2020.

    In general, the NDAA budgets are driven by the military commanders and by military contractors who stand to profit from the manufacture of war matériel. These military contractors contribute generously to the political campaigns of the politicians, a total of $47,149,042 in 2020. The biggest contributor, Lockheed Martin, which manufactures aircraft, gave $5,983,592, 47 percent to Democrats and 53 percent to Republicans. Only the banks contribute more to politicians.

    Senator Bernie Sanders declared, “Many of my colleagues tell the American people, day after day, how deeply concerned they are about the deficit and the national debt. They tell us that we just don’t have enough money to expand Medicare, guarantee paid family and medical leave, and address the climate crisis to the degree that we should if we want to protect the well-being of future generations. Yet, tomorrow, the U.S. Senate will be voting on an annual defense budget that costs $778 billion – $37 billion more than President Trump’s last defense budget and $25 billion more than what President Biden requested…. As a nation, we need to get our priorities right. I will vote ‘NO’ on the National Defense Authorization Act.”

    Before the bill passed, Congresswoman Alexandra Ocasio Cortez made a number of specific amendments to deny funds to various governments: the specific Saudi unit that murdered Jamal Khashoggi, to a specific weapons contract for Israel, to countries that engaged in genocide or war crimes, to Colombia’s unit that suppresses civilian protests. Her amendments failed, and she voted no on the bill.

    Shortly after the latest U.S. military budget was adopted, the New York Times published a study of military records regarding civilian casualties in Iraq, Afghanistan, and Syria. While the military claims to engage in “pin-point bombing” with “surgical precision,” many civilians, including children has been killed. The times wrote, “According to the military’s count, 1,417 civilians have died in airstrikes in the campaign against ISIS in Iraq and Syria; since 2018 in Afghanistan, U.S. air operations have killed at least 188 civilians. But The Times found that the civilian death toll was significantly higher.” Thousands more civilians than the military has accounted for may have been killed.

    Still in Congress, no representative takes the historic socialist position of not a penny for militarism and war.

     

  • Liberals Look To Weingarten, Again, To Betray Teachers, Parents, and Students

    Liberals Look To Weingarten, Again, To Betray Teachers, Parents, and Students

    It’s revealing the only idea Randi Weingarten, President of the American Federation of Teachers (AFT), gets right in the NYT interview with Michelle Goldberg, is a fact that was apparent two years ago to activists:  the Right has used the pandemic to undercut public education, fueling more privatization. What’s most important about this interview is that it shows liberals are looking to Weingarten to repeat the same game plan that teachers and parents had to overturn  to win a reprieve from the bipartisan drive to marketize education and control what students learn with standardized testing. Weingarten is once again doing the work of big money.

    While teacher union activists were fighting against unsafe returns, in this interview Weingarten brags with faux modesty she “spent much of her energy, both in public and behind the scenes, trying to get schools open.” What this means  is that while activists were trying to expose to the public how the Right orchestrated demands to reopen schools to increase privatization, rev up the economy no matter what the cost, pit parents against teachers, and erode trust in public schools and teachers unions, Weingarten was using her political connections to undercut resistance to a movement funded by the biggest, darkest money.  Weingarten is portrayed as a hero in this piece, as she was  by liberal media when she defended use of scores of students on standardized tests to evaluate and fire teachers. Goldberg doesn’t bother asking for a rebuttal from any of the local union presidents who fought against unsafe reopenings, including one who is quoted defending remote learning, the president of the United Teachers of Los Angeles (UTLA), the second-largest teachers union in the U.S.  In fact, Weingarten betrayed thousands of teachers who were struggling against in-person learning until it was truly safe and equitable, fighting a  life and death struggle, for school workers, students, and families, and communities. In finagling to open schools – without permission of members who pay her salary –  Weingarten not only violated union members’ right to control policy, she carried out a strategy that worked against public education and workers in public schools.

    Though Weingarten now points to how the pandemic was used to accelerate privatization and marketization of education with charter schools, she doesn’t mention the most chilling inroads in privatizing public education and destroying democratic control of our schools: use of educational technology to control learning and profit from student data, the colonization of public education with “platform capitalism.” The reason for this omission is that AFT and the National Education Association (NEA) are junior partners in the project, which is global.

    Goldberg reports when “Weingarten became the A.F.T.’s president, [Diane] Ravitch told her it was her job to save public education in America.” Though this idea of union leader as savior is liberalism’s conventional knowledge, no statement could be farther from the truth or more dangerous for workers to believe. The fate of public education depends on teachers, mobilized as workers, along with activists in social justice movements, students, and parents using their collective power to force change.  One lesson school workers pummeled by exhausting work demands and attacks on their professional integrity can learn from this interview is that we need to address the admittedly formidable task of transforming the national unions.

    What Weingarten doesn’t say even if she understands it is that capitalism has changed in the past fifteen years. Our opponents are more formidable than they were, and we cannot trust the national unions to lead. But we can resist successfully if we fight smart. In the first chapter of my new book, which New Politics will publish shortly, I delve into what that means. In the meantime, if you belong to an AFT local, it’s your right and obligation to ask why you weren’t consulted – to question why the Executive Council of the union allowed Weingarten to set national policy on a matter of life-and-death for so many people.

  • Michael Hirsch: In Memoriam

    Michael Hirsch: In Memoriam

    The cause of socialist democracy lost a giant last week with the death of Michael Hirsch, a comrade with family roots in the Jewish working class of New York City as well as in the global youth radicalization of the 1960s.

    Calling  him as a giant is partly tongue-in-cheek: Mike stood over six feet tall, and it comes as little surprise to learn he played basketball in his younger days. But more to the point, he had a big heart and an outsized personality — one unapologetically rough around the edges, often bouncing from genial to gruff and back again in the course of a single conversation.

    An obituary points out that Mike was active in “the early Students for a Democratic Society, the antiwar movement of the 1960s and ‘70s, the International Socialists, Ed Sadlowski’s campaign for leadership of the United Steelworkers of America, the Democratic Socialists of America, the Left Labor Project, and New Jewish Agenda.”

    The list is not exhaustive. In recent years, Mike was also a member of the socialist organizations Solidarity and Tempest — and his comrades from the editorial board of New Politics recall with gratitude how he continued to write and edit articles for the journal even while in treatment for cancer, among other medical issues.

    Mike was a prolific labor journalist and radical commentator. His first article for New Politics appeared in the Spring 1970 issue, and an archive of his NP articles from 2014-’21 is available here. The website for Jacobin magazine also carries a number of his pieces.

    The Marxist literary historian Alan Wald offered a judicious assessment of Mike in a comment left on the obituary posting mentioned earlier:

    “Michael set a high bar for socialist activists of our generation. With a rugged but magnetic aura, he was versatile in his interests, thoughtful in his commitments, and characterized overall by a determined resilience. Like many of us, he could be contentious, but more often an avatar of reason and calm. In conversation and writing I mostly found him compelling and lucid, with a level of fairness and objectivity that is needed more than ever in our challenging times.”

    Mike’s many friends, comrades, and collaborators can only extend our deepest sympathy to his wife Lee and the rest of their family.

  • When Push Came to Shove

    When Push Came to Shove

    New Politics editorial board member Michael Hirsch (1945-2021) was a young New Left radical when he came into contact with the journal’s founding editors, Phyllis and Julius Jacobson. The first of his many articles for it appeared in the Spring 1970 issue.


    Push Comes to Shove: The Escalation of Student Protest by Steven Kelman. Houghton Miffin Co., Boston 1970.

    Push Comes to Shove is a political attack on the student movement. Written ostensibly from the vantage point of three years at Harvard studying Politics with S.M. Lipset, it attempts to explain the cause of the “chaos and irrationality” during the spring ’69 occupation. Its market is obvious, it panders to those requiring a justification for political repression and for those liberals who need to rationalize their own failure around attacks on the left. As a document for the Movement, to serve as a mirror for self-criticism, it is useless—it was never meant to be that. Kelman is a polemicist against, not within the Movement.

    Coming out of Dissent magazine, an “enfant terrible” with the mind of a brutalized ex-radical, his politics, absorbed whole from older, soured men, appear stark, hard, and simplistic. Kelman sees no structural problems in capitalism, no stress between its existence and his cherished, fetishistic notion of democracy-writ-large. Kelman’s mentors felt the need to choose years ago in the struggle between a bourgeois West and a static socialist East. Kelman chose, too, and the result is a burning antipathy for those of his own generation who scorn his lifeless definition of socialism and his managerial notions of detached scholarship.

    If, as the theory goes, the West is chosen because of its civil libertarian position then defense of its class-dominated institutions becomes a necessity. A tactic becomes a strategy. The Right must be kept at bay and technocratic innovations adapted for the gradual transformation of those “flexible” institutions through strict adherence to one-man one-vote. The formalistic democracy espoused is reminiscent more of Bernstein than of Luxemburg, the scholarship more of Comte than of Marx.

    Everything follows from the need to buttress existing institutions. A student left that long ago rejected this strategy as at best dubious must be characterized variously as “totalitarian, elitists, frenzied,” and worst of all “unreasonable.” Concepts such as “democracy” and “totalitarian” become things-in-themselves, without depth or historical context. One doesn’t encounter in Kelman a workable doctrine for a mass-based revolutionary movement capable of taking power so much as a religion where rigid forms precede any meaningful content. The rifling of Harvard files is more reprehensible than the contents of the files. The burning of a bank more heinous than the founding of a bank, ad infinitum.

    For Kelman, the Left can only bring on fascism. It is not the inability of liberal capitalism to solve its inherent contradictions that necessitates a shift toward fascism, but provocation from the left. We are reminded by Kelman of the German example, of the precarious situation of German stability, and the fragility of its institutions. Would that Kelman really understood the German example, the bankruptcy of the Social Democracy in the face of the failure of bourgeois democracy and the objective needs of German capital for expansion and war. If any analogy exists, it resides not so much in Communist provocation but in Communist inability to formulate a workers’ front against both Hitler and the bourgeoisie.

    Kelman fears “undemocratic” movements. What he actually fears are mass movements or those he cannot manipulate—movements breaking the bonds of alienating electoral “politics.” Given this inability to control movements he makes facile links between right and left, their authoritarianism, their irrationality, etc. But what really unites them is his inability to control them.

    According to Kelman, S.D.S. grew at Harvard because it created a “false tension,” suggesting that SDS capitalized opportunistically on students’ fear of the draft, forcing them into larger confrontations. The abolition of ROTC was never significant in itself, but was simply an excuse to destroy. What was always clear for partisans in anti-ROTC struggles, but not for Kelman, was the actual depletion of an officer cadre from a particular university. It was never seen as a moral gesture, but as an affirmative political stance because of the overall effect of simultaneous struggles throughout the country. Anti- ROTC struggles were, as Sweezy and Magdoff have argued, the single most important anti-imperialist struggles that the Movement waged. The Harvard struggle accomplished the goals of serving as both a model for other struggles and depriving the military of a number of elite trained specialists.

    Kelman will not discuss “power” or “control” (and not a word about “capitalism”) the very questions that produced a new-Left. “Alienation” is treated as a psychological phenomenon. Harvard remains a class-dominated institution in a capitalist society, but for Kelman this is irrelevant.

    Similarly, revolution is treated as a fixation of the Left where the only conceivable, reasonable alternative is through electoral reform. Ironically, it is the French uprising of May-June 1968 that proves to him that “if there was no successful revolution there, we might as well forget about revolutions in advanced industrial society. They just aren’t going to happen, so we’d better start thinking about how best to bring change through reform.” (p. 152). But it was precisely this position that led the French Communist Party to betray the revolution, to orient a political strike along economistic lines. What France showed was the ability of people to emancipate themselves to “make a revolution.” It was the integration of precisely those workers’ institutions most responsible for legalistic reforms, the unions and the CP, (and not the workers themselves) that led to this failure. This is the strategy which Kelman advocates.


    What is most offensive about Kelman is his incredible intellectual elitism— a detachment that flows from and reinforces his politics, and his reified notions of democracy. The Harvard strike further proved to him how politically innocent students can be galvanized by their unreasoning emotions into larger and more “violent” actions. An issue that affected them peripherally (the war) was linked to them personally (the draft), and Push Came to Shove. The catalyst for his distorted perception was SDS, viewed as action-freaks, by the detached cool-headed Kelman. It’s all so convenient. Why did people follow SDS? Their irrationality! Why did Kelman’s YPSL fall on its face- ditto. His alienation from people is extreme. The Movement in its entire evolution was never to his taste—a movement of “saints,” it quickly became one of “psychopaths.” In fact, neither was ever true, except in his own fantasy. A young movement, it based its politics on empirical judgments, rejecting rigid styles and what then passed for Marxism, as not so much incorrect as irrelevant.

    In coming to terms with the American century, it rediscovered Marx, again on its own terms—terms admittedly too narrow. Now, when a discussion of alternatives in building a revolutionary left is critical, the diffusion of today’s movement is explained solely in terms of saints in a fall from grace.

    Similarly, pot-smoking, the single most striking representation of the social dislocation of a generation, is compared to “goldfish-eating,” and Harvard becomes a benign institution with pretty women to make men happy. (SDS women are flat-chested, we are told.) Only during the strike is Kelman edgy— he complains of nightmares of surging masses, feeling an estrangement from events beyond his control. But Kelman’s alienation was the Movement’s freedom. All his intellectual sophistry to the contrary, he essentially remains afraid of people, counting personally and politically on their continued passivity.

  • Help Afghan Women. Do Not Recognize the Taliban Government.

    Help Afghan Women. Do Not Recognize the Taliban Government.

    Frieda Afary conducted this interview with a representative of the Revolutionary Association of the Women of Afghanistan (RAWA) via the internet.

    What is the current situation of masses of women in Afghanistan both in the cities and in the rural areas?  There are reports that some parents are selling their infant daughters to pay for food. How common is this and what happens to the infant girls who are sold?

    The situation of urban and rural Afghan masses and women is not so different. Both are suffering from war, fundamentalism, feudalism, poverty, and rape. The Taliban have banned high school, university, and work for all women, and women are not allowed to appear in media. Recently, the Taliban have assassinated some women such as Arzu, Frozan, Safi, and Nigar. They are brutally crushing all the women’s protests and try to suppress women’s voices. Although the Taliban are trying to present a “moderate” face to fool the world, so they can be diplomatically recognized, in reality, they haven’t changed. They are the same creatures from the Stone Age.

    Yes, there are many incidents, where parents are forced to sell one of their children to feed the rest. It is solely done due to poverty and it is not a common practice. Mostly, the buyer pays half the money, and once the child gets a little older,  the remaining amount is paid, and the child is moved to the new house.

    What types of expressions of solidarity has RAWA received from women in other countries,  both in the area and globally?

    RAWA always calls on  freedom-loving women and men around the world to express their solidarity with the oppressed and tormented people of Afghanistan. We repeatedly say that you are our voices on the world stage, especially in this period, when the Taliban savages are trying to suppress the voice of every opponent, especially of women.

    And thanks to the progressive organizations and individuals who are always expressing their support and solidarity with us. They have even arranged for protests and campaigns in solidarity with Afghan women and in particular RAWA. They arrange for fund raising events for us. Every day, we receive warm and encouraging messages of solidarity and support from around the world: Latin America, USA, Europe, Kurdistan, Turkey, Iran, India, Australia,  etc. When the Taliban took over the country, we received hundreds of messages from around the world including from Hong Kong.

    What do you think about the efforts of China, Russia, Pakistan, and some representatives of the U.S. and  European governments to justify diplomatic recognition for the Taliban in the name of  promoting humanitarian assistance for the Afghan people?

    Afghanistan is like a cake and every big power and regional country wants to have its share/slice from this war-torn country. They are struggling for their own geopolitical gains and to have an upper hand over the country to take advantage of its strategic location, natural resources, and opium.

    The claims of  governments to defending women’s rights, human rights, and civil freedoms are just lies. They are making these excuses against their rivals. The roles which the U.S, Europe, China, Russia,  and Pakistan have played in Afghanistan have been very destructive and militaristic.   China, Russia, and their allies are also competing with the United States and do not care about the plight of the Afghan people.  They are advocating diplomatic recognition for the Taliban to provide a cover for their support for this terrorist organization and to promote their own imperialist plans in Afghanistan.

    The U.S.  used the slogan of democracy and “war on terror”  to promote an imperialist occupation and a corrupt U.S. -backed government for 20 years and to force this government on the Afghan people.  The U.S. has shown that it can make peace with the Taliban when it is in its interest.  All these governments use the very real need for humanitarian aid to justify diplomatic recognition of the Taliban.

    So far,  the only large amounts  of aid sent to the Taliban have been from China and Pakistan. It is clear that the criminal Taliban government is not concerned about the abject poverty of the masses.  Taliban leaders have proclaimed that hunger is the will of God. If given access to frozen Afghan government funds,  the Taliban  would most likely help the families of their own suicide bombers.  So far, humanitarian aid and medical equipment sent to Afghanistan through the Taliban have been mostly distributed among their militias.

    What are some ways of sending humanitarian aid to the people of Afghanistan without being dependent on the Taliban?

    Relief aid and large donations can still be sent through the World Health Organization.  UNICEF has also been able to pay medical and educational staff without going through the Taliban network.    Those who wish to send smaller donations for Afghan women, can contact Afghan Women’s Mission which is based in the U.S.  The address is  https://www.afghanwomensmission.org/2010/08/make-a-donation/

    Funds sent to RAWA through the Afghan Women’s Mission would be used to distribute basic food to needy families, especially to single-women headed households.  We also promote literacy among poor and rural women.  With more funds, we hope to establish underground clinics and schools for women and girls.   RAWA would also appreciate solidarity through the publication of articles that tell the truth about what is happening in Afghanistan.

     

  • Where Are We on Thanksgiving Day in America?

    Where Are We on Thanksgiving Day in America?

    Kermit the Frog of Sesame Street floats over the New York Thanksgiving Day Parade, wondering what we really have to be thankful for.

    This article was written for L’Anticapitaliste, the weekly newspaper of the New Anticapitalist Party (NPA) of France.

    Thanksgiving Day in America is a moment for national reflection since it raises the question: What do we have to be thankful for? The question is more poignant after the COVID pandemic that has taken more than 780,000 lives and an economic crisis that saw a 32.4% decline in the GDP and unemployment officially at almost 15 percent (though probably higher). While some were thankful others found that inflation had reached a 31-year high, with consumer prices up by 6% in October. Food prices had risen by 14% by Thanksgiving, and food pantries saw a 30% increase in need, while millions of homeowners and renters face the possibility of eviction.

    Just as we were about to sit down to Thanksgiving dinner, a jury in Georgia found guilty of murder the three white men who had chased down and killed the black jogger Ahmaud Arbury, and most Americans breathed a sigh of relief and gave thanks that for once justice had been done in a case of the murder of a black man.

    Then too, after nearly two years of failed policies, resistance from conspiracy theorists and from rightwing organizations, almost 75 percent of Americans who are eligible have been vaccinated. In part, because of that, the economy has picked up. The GDP grew at over 2% and unemployment fell to its lowest level since 1968, though three million have still not returned to work. The improvement in the economy led to the Great Resignation as workers by the million quit their old jobs in search of better ones and we have seen an uptick in strikes and more efforts at unionization. We have for the first time in decades a socialist organization of 90,000 members—the Democratic Socialists of America—and we have a few people in Congress who call themselves socialists. So there’s something to be thankful for.

    After the turkey, sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce, and pumpkin pie, however, we also begin to reflect on the larger context and national politics.

    The Republican Party over the last year continued to move to the right, becoming in effect a far-right party that includes violent extremists. Many Republicans believe the last election was stolen and a third believe that violence will be necessary to change the direction of the country. Republicans, among them Q-Anon supporters, Christian Evangelicals, and armed militias, are going to school board meetings to protest vaccination, masks, and the teaching of black history.

    The Democrats meanwhile are frustrated. The U.S. Congress passed President Joseph Biden’s infrastructure bill with a budget of $1.2 trillion, but the Democrats have so far been unable to pass the Build Back Better Bill that would deal with climate issues and help working families. Two conservative Democrats, Senators Joe Manchin and Krysten Sinema, have forced the Democrats to throw out proposals, cut the bill’s budget, and to drop the idea of taxing the rich to pay for it. Democratic Progressives and the few socialists have been largely dragged along by the moderate party majority. Meanwhile, Biden’s approval ratings have fallen to 44%, while 45 percent disapprove, and 11% remain undecided, suggesting the party could lose the mid-terms and end any chance for more progressive legislation in the last two years of Biden’s term.

    Ironically, in a country known for its historic anti-Communist crusades and staunch opposition to even social democracy, to overcome the COVID pandemic and the economic crisis, the U.S. government has for the last year and a half provided vast amounts of money to businesses, states, and individuals. Today some 41% of all Americans now have a positive attitude toward socialism, while 68% approve of labor unions, the highest approval rating since 1965.

    So as friends and family got their coats and went out into the cold and blustery November evening, I give thanks that there’s a chance that in the coming year we can begin to build a mass working class movement and an independent working-class political party.