Blog

  • Fidel Castro: His Political Origin, Rule, and Legacy

    Fidel Castro: His Political Origin, Rule, and Legacy

    Cuba has not been at the center of world attention for a long time, particularly after the collapse of the Soviet bloc considerably diminished the island’s importance to US imperialism. For the international left, political developments in other Latin American countries, especially Venezuela, have surpassed Cuba as a primary focus of attention. That does not mean, however, that the Cuban model has ceased to be a desirable, even if at present unrealizable, model for significant sections of the left, particularly in Latin America. For larger sections of the left, there is still considerable misinformation and confusion about the true nature of Cuba’s “really existing socialism,” a confusion that far from being of merely academic interest has a significant impact on the left’s conception of socialism and democracy. The lack of democracy and therefore of authentic socialism in Cuba is not only a problem of interest to Cubans, but also a critical test of how seriously the international left takes its democratic pronouncements.

    Origins

    The Cuban Revolution was an unexpected and welcome surprise to many. After the rebel army, supported by an important urban underground, smashed Cuba’s regular army, what began as a political revolution quickly became a social revolution, the third in Latin America—after those of Mexico in 1910 and Bolivia in 1952. For the anti-imperialist left in Latin America and elsewhere, it represented a successful defeat and comeuppance of the US empire, which had recently frustrated the Bolivian revolution and overthrown the reform movement of the democratically elected Jacobo Árbenz in Guatemala in 1954.

    The Cuba of the 1950s shared many traits with the rest of Latin America: economic underdevelopment, poverty, subjection to US imperialism, and after the military coup of March 10, 1952, a corrupt military dictatorship that became increasingly brutal as resistance to it increased. Military dictatorships were particularly common in Latin America at the height of the Cold War when they enjoyed the full support of Washington in the name of opposing “Communist subversion” in the region. Besides General Fulgencio Batista’s Cuba, this was also true for such dictatorships as those in Venezuela, Colombia, Paraguay, Perú, Nicaragua, and the Dominican Republic.

    Yet Cuba was the only one among this group of nations that had a successful multiclass democratic revolution that less than two years after having taken power was well on its way to joining the Communist1 bloc of countries led by the USSR, right in the backyard of the United States. This dramatic change plus the social gains that were made by the Cuban people in education, health, and other social-justice issues, particularly in the early decades of the revolution, elicited the support of the old and new generations of anti-imperialist women and men.

    What made that revolution possible? An answer to this question requires a discussion, on one hand, of the social structural conditions that facilitated a revolution, and on the other hand, of the political figures, particularly Fidel Castro, who harnessed those conditions to implement their own revolutionary goals. This particular combination of social structural conditions and political leadership also explains the overwhelming power that Fidel Castro was able to obtain as a revolutionary head of state.

    On the Eve of the Revolution: Combined and Uneven development

    The Cuba of the 1950s occupied a relatively high economic position in Latin America. With a population of 5.8 million people, the island had the fourth highest per capita income among the twenty Latin American countries after Argentina, Uruguay, and Venezuela, and the thirty-first highest in the world.2 Cuba also ranked fourth in Latin America according to an average of twelve indexes covering such items as percentage of the labor force employed in mining, manufacturing, and construction; percentage of literate persons; and per capita electric power, newsprint, and caloric food consumption.3 Yet, its economy was characterized by a highly uneven and combined development. Its relatively high economic position in Latin America hid substantial differences in living standards between the urban (57 percent of Cuba’s population in 1953), and rural areas (43 percent), and especially between the capital city, Havana (21 percent of Cuba’s population) and the rest of the country. Thus, for example, 60 percent of physicians, 62 percent of dentists, and 80 percent of hospital beds were in Havana,4 and while the rate for illiteracy for the country as a whole was 23.6 percent, the rate for Havana was only 7.5 percent in contrast to 43 percent of the rural population that could not read or write.5

    One important feature of this uneven economic development was the significant growth and advance of the mass media, which turned out to play an important role in the revolution. These included newspapers, magazines, radio, and particularly television, of which Cuba was a pioneer in Latin America.6 The largest weekly magazine Bohemia—with its left of center politics—counted its circulation in the hundreds of thousands, including its significant Latin American export audience. Bohemia published many of Fidel Castro’s exhortations to revolution during those periods when there was no censorship under the Batista dictatorship. After the revolutionary victory, television became an important vehicle for Fidel Castro’s interviews and speeches oriented to win over and consolidate support for the revolutionary government. Contrary to the African American poet and singer Gil Scott-Heron’s 1971 prophecy, this revolution was televised.

    No oligarchy

    Perhaps the most politically important distinguishing feature of Cuba’s social structure in the 1950s is that it lacked an oligarchy, that is the close organic relations among the upper classes, the high ranks of the armed forces, and the Catholic Church hierarchy, which had effectively acted as the institutional bases of reaction in many Latin American countries. In 1902, with the formal declaration of Cuban independence from the US occupation that had replaced Spanish colonialism in 1898, a half-baked and fragile Cuban oligarchy came into being, represented by the classic duopoly of the Liberal and Conservative parties that relied on the support of a weak, sugar-centered bourgeoisie devoid of a national project. At the same time, a class of predominantly white army officers—many of whom had served as generals in the Cuban war of independence in the 1890s—with organic ties to the Cuban upper classes, ran the army.

    As in the rest of the Spanish-speaking Caribbean, the Catholic hierarchy, while influential, was not then, nor later, a major and decisive political actor, in contrast with the more crucial role it played in many other Latin American countries. One of the main causes of the weakness of this oligarchy was the sharp limits on Cuban independence established by the United States through the Platt Amendment imposed on the Cuban Constitution of 1901 granting the United States the legal right to intervene in Cuban affairs, which the Cubans were forced to accept as a condition of the “independence” of the island.

    This half-baked oligarchic arrangement came crashing down with the 1933 revolution that succeeded in overthrowing the Machado dictatorship and established for a short time a nationalist government—strongly supported by the popular classes—that introduced labor and social legislation, and with it the foundations of a Cuban welfare state.7 The US government refused to recognize this government, which was soon overthrown with US support by the new plebeian army leadership of sergeants led by Fulgencio Batista who eliminated the old officer class. After the overthrow of the progressive nationalist government, the United States, in an attempt to provide some legitimacy to the unpopular government controlled by the former sergeant now turned Colonel Batista, agreed in 1934 to abolish the Platt Amendment. In return for a greater degree of political self-rule, Batista accepted, in addition to concessions such as maintaining the US naval base at Guantánamo Bay, a new reciprocity treaty that perpetuated the reign of sugar, thereby hindering attempts to diversify the economy of the island through which other Latin American countries, such as Mexico, had achieved some success with their import substitution policies.

    This is how the 1933 revolution produced no permanent resolution of any of the major social questions affecting the island, including badly needed agrarian reform, and led instead to open counterrevolution and then, under the contradictory pressures of US capital and the world market on one hand, and of the ever-present threat of working class and popular unrest on the other hand, to a variety of state-capitalist compromises involving the significant state regulation of the economy that discouraged foreign investment. The most important example was the case of the sugar industry where the state established, in 1937, a corporate entity to oversee the industry (Instituto Cubano de Estabilización del Azúcar—ICEA) and a detailed set of regulations of labor conditions, wages, and production quotas for the industry as a whole as well as for each sugar mill. These were the kinds of institutional arrangements that framed the social and political modus vivendi of the next two decades of Cuban history.

    No major social class emerged totally victorious after the 1933 revolution, and although capitalism and imperialism strongly consolidated themselves, a capitalist ruling class of equal strength did not, in part because of its reliance on the US as the ultimate guarantor of its fate against any possible internal threat to its power and privileges. Instead, there was a numerically important Cuban business class that did not really rule but bolstered its privileged position and benefited as much as it could from the governments of the day. This Cuban business class initially supported the Batista dictatorship in a purely opportunistic fashion, but later abandoned it as the very corrupt government shook down businesspeople without even being able to guarantee law and order and a predictable legal and business climate. This helps to explain why prominent members of the business class, such as the very wealthy sugar magnate Julio Lobo, helped to finance Fidel Castro’s 26th of July Movement before it came to power.8

    The Batista sergeants’ coup also led to the emergence of a new army headed by the former sergeants suddenly turned into colonels and generals, who never recognized or ceded their control to the newly trained professional officers schooled in the island’s military academies, to serve the Constitution in a nonpartisan manner. Instead, the Cuban army remained a fundamentally political, mercenary army whose rank-and-file members served on a voluntary basis in exchange for a secure job and salary, devoid of any purpose or ideology except for the personal enrichment of its leaders and the meager benefits that trickled down to its ranks.9 This explains the failure of the attempt by the academy-trained professional military officers—the so-called puros (the pure)—to overthrow the Batista regime in 1956 and, more important, the general apathy and unwillingness of the soldiers to fight the 26th of July Movement rebels.

    Meanwhile, the traditional Liberal and Conservative parties lost much of their power and influence and were relegated to a less important role as new parties came into existence, which also failed to create a strong and stable role for themselves and collapsed as they were unable to face the new realities created by the Batista military dictatorship. In contrast, in Venezuela, the social-democratic Acción Demócratica (AD) and the Social-Christian Party (COPEI) managed to survive the dictatorship of Marcos Pérez Jimenez and emerged as strong and stable parties of the social and economic status quo after the Venezuelan dictatorship was overthrown in January 1958.

    In 1944, Batista’s candidate lost the elections to the first of two liberal­democratic, but very corrupt, governments. These governments preserved, on the whole, the democratic features of the progressive 1940 Constitution, and introduced institutional changes such as the creation of a national bank to regulate the monetary and financial systems in the island. Nevertheless, they were unable to change the fundamental features of the social-political structure of the post-1933 Cuba. These were the features that remained unchanged all the way up to the eve of the revolution of 1959.

    A large but weak working class

    One of the main features of the large working class in Cuba on the eve of the revolution was that a substantial part of it was rural and centered on the seasonal sugar industry. The great majority of these sugar workers were wage-earning agricultural workers cutting, collecting, and transporting the cane, with a minority of industrial workers working on the processing of sugar and the maintenance, repair, and upkeep of the sugar mills. As we shall see later in greater detail, this made Cuba different from other less­developed countries where peasants dominated the rural landscape engaged in self-subsistence agriculture. It is true that in the 1950s new sectors of the working class had emerged as a result of a degree of diversification of the economy away from the sugar industry despite the constraints imposed by economic treaties with the United States. These included, besides the extraction of nickel and cobalt in eastern Cuba and oil refineries, the production of pharmaceutical products, tires, flour, fertilizers, textiles such as rayon, detergents, toiletries, glass, and cement.10 Nevertheless, sugar continued at the heart of the Cuban economy with the most important sector of the agricultural proletariat associated with it.

    A study published in 1956 by the US Department of Commerce based on the 1953 Cuban census, cites farm laborers, including unpaid family workers, as constituting 28.8 percent of the labor force in the island, which could be considered as a rough approximation of the size of the rural working class in the 1950s. The same study also cites a group classified as farmers and ranchers as constituting an additional 11.3 percent of the total labor force. It is likely that the figures of both groups fluctuated through time as a result of movement between those two groups of poor farmers and ranchers seeking to seasonally supplement their income by selling their labor in the sugar industry, and also as a result of substantial migration from rural to urban areas. Even so, those figures indicate a much higher proportion—more than double—of salaried rural workers compared to peasants in the countryside.

    It is thus ironic that the peasants that Fidel Castro came into contact with in the Sierra Maestra were not representative of the Cuban rural labor force. (Sugar is typically planted in flat rather than mountainous lands.) The structure of Cuba’s rural labor force in the 1950s also helps to explain why once Fidel Castro and his close associates adopted the Soviet system, they had a much easier time collectivizing agriculture into state farms than was the case in other Communist countries with large peasantries.

    Besides the agricultural proletariat, Cuba also had a larger and more important urban working class. The same 1956 study classified 22.7 percent of the Cuban labor force under the category of craftsmen, foremen, operatives, and kindred workers, 7.2 percent as clerical and kindred workers, and 6.2 percent as sales workers. Service workers, except private households, constituted 4.2 percent of the urban working class, and private household workers 4.0 percent. These categories could be considered a rough approximation of the urban working class, for a total of 44.3 percent of the total labor force in the island.11

    Over fifty percent of this two million rural and urban labor force was unionized, mostly under the control of the very corrupt Mujalista union bureaucracy, whose leader Eusebio Mujal had supported Batista since his second military coup in 1952, promising to keep labor peace in exchange for being ratified as the principal union leader. For its part, Batista’s government refrained from an immediate attack on labor’s gains, although it did not take long for it to gradually, but substantially, erode labor’s wages and working conditions. Mujal became even more bound to Batista after the dictator outlawed the Popular Socialist Party (PSP), the name adopted by the Communists at the time of the Soviet alliance with the United States during the Second World War, a move that increased Mujal’s control and that further eroded the already limited influence of that party on the organized working class in the island. According to an internal survey conducted in 1956 by the PSP, only 15 percent of the country’s two thousand local unions were led by Communists or by union leaders who supported collaboration with the PSP.12

    The Communist Party’s influence on the Cuban working class had its militant heyday in the late twenties and early thirties, at the time of its “third period” ultra-left and sectarian politics. Its growth displaced the hold that the anarchists had on the working class from the late nineteenth century until the mid 1920s, both in Cuba and in the predominantly Cuban tobacco enclaves in Key West and Tampa in Florida to which Cuban tobacco workers would migrate—before there were immigration controls—because of strikes or poor economic conditions in the island. That growth allowed the CP to play a leading role in the 1933 revolution against the Machado dictatorship, a revolution in which the working class played a significant part. However, the CP “third period” policy against supporting the new nationalist revolutionary government that the Roosevelt administration refused to recognize significantly contributed to the failure of that revolution. Moreover, under the popular front policy adopted by the CP later on, and as a result of the nationalists refusing to work with the CP because of its conduct in the 1933 revolution, the Cuban Communists made a deal with Batista in 1938 providing him with political and electoral support in exchange for the CP being handed the official control of the Cuban labor movement. The defeat of the candidate supported by Batista and the Communists in the 1944 elections and the Cold War that began a few years later, dealt a severe blow to Communist political influence in general and their trade union influence in particular.

    It was then that the labor representatives of the Auténtico Party—the former revolutionary nationalists of the 1930s—with Eusebio Mujal among them, who, along with other independent labor leaders who could be loosely identified as nationalist, took over the unions, sometimes based on the use of force and other assorted gangster methods. Soon after, Mujal emerged as the top leader of the only trade-union confederation, a role that he continued to play under Batista.

    Opposition to the dictatorship grew among the large majority of Cubans. The working class found itself under the yoke of the double dictatorship of Mujal in the unions and of Batista in the country as a whole. Remarkably, as some authors have shown, there were many labor struggles that took place in that period, some with an open anti-Batista agenda.13 The Mujalista bureaucracy did not have total control of working-class unrest and there were some militant unions—like that of the bank workers—that managed to escape Mujal’s vise. However, these struggles did not translate into a strong and visible independent working-class organization opposed to the government. This was due to the fragmentary character of these struggles that lacked the continuity and cumulative impact that would have made a strong and independent working-class organization possible.

    This was the context in which Fidel’s 26th of July Movement called for a general strike in April of 1958. The strike was a total defeat: the majority of the workers, union and nonunion, did not respond, and the minority who did was violently repressed by Batista’s police. This had very serious consequences for the revolutionary movement, as well as for the role that the working class would play in the revolution. On May 3, 1958, less than a month after the defeat of the April strike, the leadership of the movement met with Fidel Castro at Altos de Mompié in the Sierra Maestra to discuss the strike failure and how to proceed with the struggle.14 One result of this meeting was that Castro solidified his control of the movement by being named general secretary and commander- in-chief of the rebel army. The other was that the movement adopted guerrilla warfare as its central strategy and assigned the general strike to a secondary role only as the popular culmination of the military campaign. After Batista and his immediate entourage fled the country on New Year’s Day in 1959, Fidel Castro and the 26th of July Movement called for a general strike to paralyze the country to prevent a military coup. As the possibility of a coup greatly receded less than twenty-four hours after Batista’s departure, the planned general strike rapidly turned into a huge, multiclass national festival to celebrate the victory of the rebels and to greet Fidel Castro and his rebel army in its long east-to-west triumphant procession towards Havana where they arrived on January 8. This is how the active, organized fragments of the Cuban working class, and even more so the far larger number of workers who sympathized as individuals with the revolution, ended up as supporting actors instead of being the central protagonists in the successful struggle to overthrow the Batista dictatorship. The FONU (Frente Obrero Nacional Unido)—a broad workers’ front formed and led by the 26th of July Movement in 1958, which included every anti-Batista political formation, and especially the Communists—was no political or organizational match for Fidel Castro and the broader 26th of July Movement, and only played a secondary role in the overall anti-Batista struggle. Neither the urban nor the rural working class played a central role in that struggle.

    How Fidel Castro emerged:
    The interface of social structure and political leadership

    When the Batista coup took place on March 10, 1952, Fidel Castro had graduated two years earlier from the law school at the University of Havana. He was one of the many children of Ángel Castro, a turn-of-the-century Galician immigrant who became a wealthy sugar landlord in eastern Cuba. Although he never showed any political inclination while studying at the elite Jesuit Colegio Belén high school, after he entered the University of Havana in 1945 he became involved with one of the several political gangster groups at the university, for the most part formed by demoralized veterans of the 1933 Revolution battling each other for the no-show jobs and other kinds of sinecures used by the Auténtico governments then in power to coopt and neutralize the former revolutionaries.15 Then, while still in law school, he participated in two important events that came to have a deep influence on him: one was the 1947 Cayo Confites expedition that intended to sail to the Dominican Republic from a key off the Cuban coast to provoke a revolution against the Trujillo dictatorship. The expedition never got off the key due to Washington’s pressure on the Cuban army to squash it. The other event was the so-called “Bogotazo,” the massive rioting that took place in Bogotá, Colombia, after the assassination of Liberal Party leader Eliecer Gaitán in 1948. For Fidel Castro, the Cayo Confites expedition of some 1,200 men was an example of what he regarded as bad organizing and sloppy, hasty recruitment methods that led to the incorporation of “delinquents, some lumpen elements and all kinds of others.”16 Concerning the “Bogotazo,” although Castro had been impressed by the eruption of an oppressed people and by their courage and heroism, he remarked that

    there was no organization, no political education to accompany that heroism. There was political awareness and a rebellious spirit, but no political education and no leadership. The [Bogotazo] uprising influenced me greatly in my later revolutionary life . . . I wanted to avoid the revolution sinking into anarchy, looting, disorder, and people taking the law into their own hands. . . . The [Colombian] oligarchs—who supported the status quo and wanted to portray the people as an anarchic, disorderly mob—took advantage of that situation.17

    It was the disorganized and chaotic nature of these failed enterprises that shaped much of Fidel Castro’s particular emphasis on political discipline and suppression of dissident views and factions within a revolutionary movement. As Fidel Castro wrote to his then close friend Luis Conte Agüero in 1954,

    Conditions that are indispensable for the integration of a truly civic movement: ideology, discipline and chieftainship. The three are essential, but chieftainship is basic. I don’t know whether it was Napoleon who said that a bad general in battle is worth more than twenty good generals. A movement cannot be organized where everyone believes he has the right to issue public statements without consulting anyone else; nor can one expect anything of a movement that will be integrated by anarchic men who at the first disagreement take the path they consider most convenient, tearing apart and destroying the vehicle. The apparatus of propaganda and organization must be such and so powerful that it will implacably destroy him who will create tendencies, cliques, or schisms or will rise against the movement.18

    While still at the university, Castro later joined the recently formed Ortodoxo Party. It is clear that he was already involved in leftist politics and was interested in not only national but also international issues, such as the Puerto Rican independence movement and opposition to Franco’s Spain. The Ortodoxo Party was a broad political formation that had been created as a split off the increasingly corrupt Auténtico Party that held national elective office from 1944 until Batista’s coup in 1952. It was a progressive reform party that focused on the fight against official corruption and, among its various political positions, opposed Communism on democratic political grounds while also defending the democratic rights of the Cuban Communists against the local version of McCarthyism. Most important, it attracted a large number of idealistic middle- and working-class youth that later became the most important source of recruitment for Fidel Castro’s 26th of July Movement.

    Castro became a secondary leader in that party and eventually ran as a candidate for the Cuban House of Representatives in the 1952 elections that never took place because of Batista’s coup. It was in response to that coup that Fidel Castro began to advocate and organize the armed struggle against Batista within the Ortodoxo Party itself. However, the party soon split into various factions, some of them abstentionist and some others favoring unprincipled coalitions with traditional, discredited parties opposed to Batista. None of them were able to prosper under the unfavorable conditions of a military dictatorship that differed dramatically from the functioning of an electoral party in a constitutional, even if corrupt, political democracy. The other anti-Batista parties were, for a variety of reasons, no better than the Ortodoxos. That is why Fidel Castro and his close associates started to act on their own and secretly began to recruit sections of the Ortodoxo Party and unaffiliated youth for the attack on the Moncada barracks scheduled for July 26, 1953. The political vacuum in the opposition to Batista considerably helped his recruitment efforts, since from the very beginning his consistent and coherent line of armed struggle against the dictatorship attracted the young people who had become thoroughly disillusioned with the irrelevance of the regular opposition parties.

    Along with his emphasis on armed struggle as the strategy to fight against Batista, Fidel’s attack on the Moncada barracks was premised on a social program that included agrarian reform—a widespread popular aspiration—with compensation for the expropriated landlords, and a substantial profit-sharing plan for workers in industrial and commercial enterprises. These measures were not socialist or, aside from the nationalization of public utilities, collectivist, but were radical for the Cuba of the 1950s. Castro explicitly outlined this radical program in the speech that he gave at his and his fellow fighters’ trial after the Batista forces defeated the attack, which was later published under the title History Will Absolve Me, the final sentence of that speech.

    It did not take long before Castro concluded that the combination of armed struggle with a radical social program was an obstacle to widening support for his 26th of July Movement—which he had founded after he and his Moncada companions were amnestied by Batista in 1955—and increasing his group’s influence within the anti-Batista movement, which on the whole was liberal-populist and progressive but not radical. That is why, although he continued to insist in the armed struggle to overthrow Batista (a position he never abandoned), by 1956 he had significantly modulated his social radicalism. This became clearly articulated in the politically militant but socially moderate Manifesto that he co-authored with Felipe Pazos and Raúl Chibás, two very prestigious figures of Cuba’s progressive circles, in the Sierra Maestra on July 12, 1957.19

    The Manifesto, which rapidly became far better known than Castro’s History Will Absolve Me, conferred an enormous degree of legitimacy among the progressive anti-Batista public to Castro’s 26th of July Movement at a time when it had not yet fully consolidated itself in the Sierra Maestra. It turned out to be, in conjunction with a number of small but significant military victories against Batista’s troops, a major step in Fidel Castro’s journey towards becoming the hegemonic figure of the opposition camp. Moreover, the publication of the Manifesto in Bohemia, the Cuban weekly with the largest circulation in the island, during a period when Batista’s censorship had been suspended, deeply affected thousands of people, further propelling the 26th of July Movement towards their unrivaled hegemony over the other groups engaged in armed rebellion who had failed in their own confrontations with Batista’s armed forces. The Manifesto fell on fertile ground in a political culture where the notion of revolution, in the sense of a forceful overthrow of an illegitimate government, had wide acceptance, especially when the potentially divisive issue of a revolutionary, as distinct from a progressive reformist, social program, was set aside.

    It is also worth underlining that Fidel Castro, like other left-inclined Cuban oppositionists (except for the Communists), kept his anti-imperialist politics to himself throughout the struggle against Batista, both in his more socially radical and moderate periods. Although he revealed his anti-imperialist sentiments in private to close associates such as Celia Sánchez,20 in public he limited himself to the democratic critique of US foreign policy for its support of Batista and other Latin American dictators. And when his younger brother Raúl Castro, as head of the Frank País Second Front elsewhere in Oriente province, ordered the kidnapping of American military personnel from the Guantánamo Naval Base to stop the United States from assisting the Batista dictatorship in its bombing of the rebel areas in June 1958, Fidel immediately ordered their release.

    For a variety of reasons, anti-imperialism had become dormant in the Cuban political scene since the 1930s. Only the Communists and their close periphery used the term to describe and analyze US policies towards Cuba and Latin America.21 Yet, the Communists contributed to the fading of the anti-imperialist sentiment with the Soviet alliance with the United States in World War II, and their support for the Roosevelt administration, a popular policy in the island in the Communist and non-Communist left alike.

    It was Fidel’s tactical ability to retreat from potentially divisive programmatic social issues that revealed him as the thoroughly political animal and master political operator and tactician he was, endowed with an acute sense of Cuban political culture and an uncanny ability to understand and to take advantage of specific political conjunctures to broaden his political base and support.

    Part of what gave him room to tactically maneuver substantive political issues was that the inner core of the people he relied on was an heterogeneous group of militant “classless” individuals, in the sense of their not having a connection to any of the then existing organizations of any class. They were therefore not committed to, or bound by, any particular social program. And those who did, such as Raúl Castro and Ernesto “Che” Guevara, knew Fidel well enough to trust him to move the political dynamic of the movement in a generally left direction.

    Confirming the class heterogeneity of the group of people closest to Fidel, historian Hugh Thomas notes that the people who joined Fidel in the attack on the Moncada barracks on July 26, 1953, came from a wide variety of social backgrounds, including accountants, agricultural workers, bus workers, businessmen, shop assistants, plumbers, and students. Thomas further notes that the group of eighty-one persons that accompanied Fidel in the Granma expedition to Cuba in late 1956—nineteen of whom had participated in the Moncada attack—might have had an overall higher education than the Moncada group, but that it was socially heterogeneous, too. According to Thomas, both of these groups comprised Castro’s inner group of loyal followers.22 This inner group was later enlarged by people selected from the new urban volunteers and from a few thousand peasants in the Sierra Maestra and elsewhere in eastern Cuba. It should be noted that, with a small number of important exceptions, the peasant recruits had little or no history of organized peasant struggles and that in contrast with the rebel army recruits from towns and cities in Cuba’s eastern Oriente Province, the peasant recruits did not generally play any major leadership roles after the revolutionary victory.23

    In addition to his political talent, Fidel Castro’s ascendancy in the anti­-Batista movement benefited from the occurrence of events beyond his control that cannot be explained either in terms of the characteristics of Cuba’s social structure or his own extraordinary political skills. To begin with, he physically survived the armed struggle against Batista without any significant injury, something that cannot be taken for granted when considering that out of the eighty-one people who accompanied him to Cuba in the boat Granma, no more than twenty survived the invasion and its immediate aftermath. Even more important was the failure of the other revolutionary groups to overthrow Batista by force, and the death of other revolutionary leaders who could have potentially challenged his leadership. One of them, José Antonio Echeverría, was a popular student leader who founded the Directorio Revolucionario, another political group engaged in the armed struggle against Batista. He was killed in a confrontation with Batista’s police on March 13, 1957 after attempting to simultaneously capture a radio station (where he managed to broadcast a brief speech shortly before being shot after he left the station) and carry out an assault on the Presidential Palace. The other potential rival was Frank País, the national coordinator of the 26th of July Movement, killed by Batista’s police in the streets of Santiago de Cuba on July 30, 1957. País was an independent-minded revolutionary who emphasized the importance of a clear political program and a well-structured 26th of July Movement, in contrast with the unclear, weakly structured organization more easily subject to the control of the top leader model that Fidel favored.24

    But Fidel Castro’s emergence and ascendance to the top of the anti-Batista movement, his victory over Batista on January 1, 1959, and the great deal of political power he acquired after victory cannot be accounted for based only on his undisputable political talents and his good fortune. It was the interface between those two factors with Cuba’s social structure of that time—devoid of an oligarchical ruling class with firm organic ties to an ideologically committed army hierarchy, which could have effectively repressed attempts against its power, and of stable political organizations and parties that could have channeled the popular discontent—that made his trajectory possible.

    Fidel Castro in power

    Fidel Castro’s victory surpassed anybody’s expectations—his forces managed to eliminate the army from the Cuban political scene on January 1, 1959—and led him to power with an immense and virtually unchallengeable popularity. All other political groups and personalities had either been discredited or lagged far behind Fidel in popular support and legitimacy.

    Once in power, Fidel behaved in a remarkably similar manner as when he was in the Sierra: as the unquestionable leader of a disciplined guerrilla army controlled from above that strictly follows the military orders of their superiors. To this he added, once in power, his extremely intelligent use of television and the public plaza to appeal to the widespread radicalization and growing anti-imperialist sentiment of the people at large.

    Although he undoubtedly consulted with and listened to those in his inner circle, he acted on his own, even disregarding previous agreements while often refusing to accept criticism. He treated his close comrades as consultants and not as full peers embarked in a joint project.25 His key consideration was to be the one decision maker and remain in control of the political situation.

    That is why, after victory, Fidel Castro prevented any attempt to transform the 26th of July Movement from the amorphous, unstructured group it had been during the struggle against Batista into a democratically organized, disciplined party. Doing so would have limited the room for his political maneuvering, particularly early in the revolution when his movement was still politically heterogeneous. At that time, such a party would have inevitably included the political tendencies that he abhorred. It was only in 1965—long after all the major social-structural changes had already been implemented and the liberals, social democrats, and independent anti-imperialist revolutionaries of the 26th of July Movement (see below) had either left the country or had been marginalized—that a so-called “democratic centralist” Communist Party uniting the 26th of July Movement with the Communists (and with the much smaller Directorio Revolucionario) was finally established in Cuba. However, for reasons discussed later, this party did not significantly impinge on Fidel’s ultimate control of what happened in Cuba.

    Fidel’s turn to Communism

    Even today, most American liberals and many radicals contend that it was the United States’ imperialist policies that “forced” Fidel Castro into the hands of the Soviet Union and Communism. To be sure, the United States responded to the victorious Cuban Revolution in a predictably imperialist fashion similar to the way it had responded, earlier in that decade, to the democratically elected reform government of Jacobo Árbenz in Guatemala in 1954 and the Iranian nationalist regime of Mohammad Mosaddegh in Iran in 1953. However, the view that Fidel Castro was “forced” or “compelled” to adopt Communism is misleading because it deprives him and his close associates of any political agency and implicitly conceives them as politically blank slates open to any political path had US policy towards Cuba been different.

    In fact, Fidel and the other revolutionary leaders did have political ideas. This became clear soon after the victory of the Cuban Revolution with the creation, in the revolutionary camp overwhelmingly composed by members of the 26th of July Movement, of a powerful pro-Soviet tendency oriented to an alliance with the PSP (Popular Socialist Party), the old pro-Moscow Cuban Communists. This tendency was led by Raúl Castro, a former member of the Juventud Socialista (the youth wing of the PSP), and by Che Guevara, who had never joined a Communist Party but was then pro-Soviet and an admirer of Stalin, notwithstanding the fact that more than two years had elapsed since Khruschev’s revelations of Stalin’s crimes in 1956. The new revolutionary government also had in its ranks an important non-Communist, anti-imperialist left (e.g., Carlos Franqui, David Salvador, Faustino Pérez), plus liberal (Roberto Agramonte, Rufo López Fresquet) and social democratic (Manuel Ray, Manuel Fernández) tendencies.

    Fidel Castro did not immediately commit (at least in public) to any of those tendencies. Although he had been a leftist for many years and intended to make a radical revolution, he left it to the existing relation of forces inside Cuba and abroad, and to the tactical possibilities available to him given the existing relation of forces, to determine the path to follow while maneuvering to ensure that he remained in control. Had he gone in a different direction, Che Guevara would have immediately left the island and Raúl Castro would have gone into the opposition. Information found in the Soviet archives show that Raúl Castro briefly considered breaking with his older brother Fidel during the first half of 1959 when Fidel’s commitment to working with the Communists was in doubt.27

    By the fall of 1959, less than a year after victory, it became clear that Fidel Castro was moving in the direction of an alliance with the USSR and, months later, towards the transformation of the Cuban society and economy into the Soviet mold. While he later claimed that he had been a “Marxist-Leninist” all along, this was more likely a retrospective justification of the political course he took later, rather than an accurate account of his early political ideas. His decision was probably influenced by the fact that the victory of the Cuban Revolution coincided with the widespread perception in the late 1950s and early 1960s that the balance of world power had shifted in favor of the USSR. The Soviet’s test of its first intercontinental ballistic missile and the launch of Sputnik in 1957 had generated serious concerns in the US regarding Soviet supremacy in those key areas. And while the US economy was growing at a rate of 2 to 3 percent per year, various US government agencies had estimated that the Soviet economy was growing approximately three times as fast.28 Also, quite a few things were happening in the Third World that favored Soviet foreign policy, such as the Communist electoral victory in Kerala, India in 1957,29 and a left-wing coup that overthrew the Iraqi monarchy in 195830 (countered by a US invasion of Lebanon that followed shortly thereafter). Successes in Laos31 and a domestic turn to the left by Nasser in Egypt and by Sukarno in Indonesia (both allies of the USSR) further bolstered Soviet power and international prestige.32 This constellation of events may have persuaded Fidel that were he to follow the Communist road, he could count on the rising power of the USSR to confront the growing US aggression against Cuba, support a total break with Washington, and implement a Soviet- type of system for which he had an affinity given the great social and political control that it would confer on him.

    As an early step in his path towards Soviet-type Communism, in November 1959 Fidel Castro personally intervened in the Tenth Congress of the Confederation of Cuban Workers (CTC—Confederación de Trabajadores de Cuba), the union central established in 1938, to rescue the Communists and their allies within the 26th of July Movement from a serious defeat in the election of the Confederation’s top leaders. Consistent with the findings of their 1956 survey, the PSP had obtained only 10 percent of the votes in the union elections that had taken place earlier that year as well as in the delegate elections to the Congress itself. Fidel Castro’s intervention allowed the 26th of July unionists friendly to the Communists to take control of the Confederation in what proved to be the short term. That was followed, in the subsequent months, by the purge of at least half of the union officials elected in 1959—some were also imprisoned—who were hostile to the PSP and their allies within the 26th of July Movement, thus consolidating the control of the latter two groups over the union movement. Shortly afterwards, in August 1961, new laws were enacted bringing the functioning of the Cuban unions into alignment with those of the Soviet bloc by subordinating them to the state and treating them primarily as a means to increase production and as conveyor belts of the state’s orders. In November 1961, at the eleventh congress of the CTC, the hard polemics and controversies that had gone on in the Tenth Congress were replaced with the principle of unanimity.

    Then, topping it all, Lázaro Peña, the old Stalinist labor leader who, with Batista’s consent, had controlled the trade-union movement in the early forties (during Batista’s first period in power) was elected to the top post of secretary general of the CTC. With this move, Fidel Castro dealt the last blow to the last vestiges of autonomy of the organized working class and subjected it to his total control. It should be noted that notwithstanding the loss of some of their pre-revolutionary labor conquests, most Cuban workers were pleased with the gains they obtained under the young revolutionary regime, and therefore they did not protest the state takeover of their unions.

    The Sovietization of the island proceeded to encompass other areas of Cuban society, all under Fidel’s direction. In May 1960, the government seized the opposition press and replaced it with government-controlled monolithic media. This was clearly a strategic, long-term institutional move since the country was not facing any kind of crisis at that particular time. Other pro-revolutionary but independent newspapers, such as La Calle, were shut down some time later, as was Lunes de Revolución, the independent cultural weekly of Revolución, the 26th of July Movement newspaper. The abolition of additional independent autonomous organizations continued with the institution, by Fidel, of the Cuban Federation of Women (Federación de Mujeres Cubanas—FMC) in August 1960, which led to the disbanding of more than 920 preexisting women’s organizations, and their incorporation and assimilation into the FMC which became, by government fiat, the sole and official women’s organization.

    Earlier, toward the end of 1959, Fidel’s government started to limit the autonomy of the “sociedades de color,” the mutual-aid societies that for many years constituted the organizational spine of Black life in Cuba. Few “sociedades” remained after that, but they totally disappeared by the mid-­sixties, after Fidel’s government proclaimed that, given the gains that Black Cubans had made under the revolution on the basis of class-based reforms and the abolition of racial segregation, the problems of racial discrimination and racism had been resolved. For the next thirty years, total silence prevailed on racial questions, notwithstanding the evident institutional racism in a society that was being ruled by whites, and that lacked any significant affirmative action programs to address the situation.33 That silence basically continued the pre-revolutionary taboo avoiding any open discussion of race that harked back to the so-called race war of 1912, which in fact never was a real war, but a massacre of Black Cubans.34

    On April 16, 1961, shortly before the US Bay of Pigs invasion of Cuba, Fidel Castro proclaimed the “socialist” character of the revolution. By that time, all of the above-mentioned changes, along with the nationalization of most of the Cuban economy—a process that ended in 1968, with the nationalization of even the tiniest businesses in the island probably making Cuba the most nationalized economy in the world—had set the foundations of a Caribbean replica of the Soviet system.35 The finishing touch was the formation of a single ruling party, a process that was finalized, after two previous provisional organizations, with the official foundation of the Cuban Communist Party in October 1965. Structured in the Soviet mold, this party allowed no internal dissent or opposition, and in effect ruled over the economy, under the leadership and control of Fidel Castro, through: (1) its “mass organizations,” such as the FMC (the women’s federation) and the CTC (the union central), that served as conveyor belts for its decisions and orders; and (2) its control of the mass media—all the newspapers, magazines, radio, and television stations in the island—based on the “orientations” that came from the Ideological Department of the Central Committee of the Cuban Communist Party.

    Although the Cuban Communist Party followed the fundamental outlines of the Soviet-style parties in the USSR and Eastern Europe, it also had characteristics of its own. One was the great emphasis it placed on popular mobilization—a device introduced by Fidel Castro—devoid, however, of any real mechanisms of popular democratic discussion and control (a feature that it did share with its sister parties in the Communist bloc). Another feature present in many of those mobilizations was pseudo-plebiscitarian politics, also introduced by Fidel, of having the participants “vote” right then and there, raising their hands to show popular approval for the leadership’s initiatives.36

    Originally published in International Socialist Review. Part II will appear in a future issue of Against the Current.


    1. I use the term Communist for the sake of clarity, but I do not link present-day Communism with the communism of Marx, Engels, and many other revolutionaries who predate the rise of Stalinism. I also use Communism in a generic sense to describe a class and socioeconomic system even though each Communist country had its own peculiarities. Marxists use the term capitalism similarly, even though capitalist states, like the United States, South Korea, and Norway, are not identical.
    2. Pedro C. M. Teichert, “Analysis of Real Growth and Wealth in the Latin American Republics,” Journal of Inter-American Studies I, April 1959, 184–185.
    3. Ibid.
    4. Marifeli Pérez-Stable, The Cuban Revolution: Origins, Course and Legacy, 2nd ed. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1999), 29.
    5. Jorge Ibarra, Prologue to Revolution: Cuba, 1898–1958, trans. Marjorie Moore (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 1998), 162.
    6. Yeidy M. Rivero, Broadcasting Modernity: Cuban Commercial Television 1950–1960 (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 2015).
    7. See Samuel Farber, Revolution and Reaction in Cuba, 1933–1960: A Political Sociology from Machado to Castro (Middletown, Connecticut: Wesleyan University Press, 1976).
    8. John Paul Rathbone, The Sugar King of Havana: The Rise and Fall of Julio Lobo, Cuba’s Last Tycoon (New York, Penguin, 2011), 210–211. Rathbone claims that Lobo gave $25,000 to the 26th of July Movement because the Movement threatened to burn his cane fields. However, shortly after the revolutionary victory the Cuban press, freed from any government censorship, reported that Lobo financially supported the revolution out of his own free will.
    9. One of Batista’s first decrees after his successful military coup on March 10, 1952, was to order a substantial increase in the salaries of soldiers and policemen.
    10. Jorge Ibarra, Prologue to Revolution, 18–19.
    11. US Department of Commerce, Bureau of Foreign Commerce, Investment in Cuba: Basic Information for United States Businessmen, Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1956, 183.
    12. Jorge Ibarra, Prologue to Revolution: Cuba, 1898–1958, 170.
    13. Steve Cushion, A Hidden History of the Cuban Revolution: How the Working Class Shaped the Guerrillas’ Victory (New York: Monthly Review Press, 2016).
    14. Julia Sweig, Inside the Cuban Revolution: Fidel Castro and the Urban Underground (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2002), 150.
    15. See the more detailed discussion of political gangsterism in Cuba in Samuel Farber, Revolution and Reaction in Cuba, 1933–1960, 117–122.
    16. Fidel Castro, My Early Years, ed. Deborah Shnookal and Pedro Alvarez Tabío, (Melbourne, Australia: Ocean Press, 1998), 98. For more details about the Cayo Confites expedition and the politics behind it see Charles D. Ameringer, The Caribbean Legion. Patriots, Politicians, Soldiers of Fortune, 1946–1950 (University Park, Pennsylvania: The Pennsylvania State University Press, 1996).
    17. Ibid, 126–127.
    18. Luis Conte Aguero, 26 Cartas del Presidio (Havana: Editorial Cuba, 1960), 73. These letters were published before Conte Aguero’s break with Fidel Castro. Castro’s emphasis.
    19. For the text of the Sierra Maestra Manifesto see Rolando E. Bonachea and Nelson P. Valdés, eds., Revolutionary Struggle 1947–1958, vol. 1 of The Selected Works of Fidel Castro (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1972), 343–48.
    20. In June 1958, Fidel Castro privately wrote to Celia Sánchez that when the war against Batista finished, a bigger and much longer war would begin against the United States. Carlos Franqui, Diario de la Revolución Cubana, 473.
    21. Thus, for example, an official pamphlet of the 26th of July Movement published in 1957 danced around the term imperialism “as already inappropriate to the American continent” although there were still forms of economic penetration and political influence similar to it. The pamphlet proposed a new treatment of “constructive friendship” so Cuba could be a “loyal ally of the great country of the North and at the same time safely preserve the capacity to orient its own destiny.” Movimiento Revolucionario 26 de Julio, Nuestra Razón: Manifiesto-Programa del Movimiento 26 de Julio, in Enrique González Pedrero, La Revolución Cubana (Ciudad de México: Escuela Nacional de Ciencias Políticas y Sociales, 1959), 124.
    22. Hugh Thomas, “Middle Class Politics and the Cuban Revolution,” in The Politics of Conformity in Latin America, ed. Claudio Véliz (London: Oxford University Press, 1967), 261.
    23. See the detailed biographies of many revolutionary generals in Luis Báez, Secretos de Generales, Havana: Editorial Si–Mar, 1996.
    24. Unlike most other top leaders of the 26th of July Movement, Frank País had strong roots in the life of Cuban civil society. He and his family were very active in the Baptist Church, and his parents were among the tiny minority of Spanish Protestant immigrants to Cuba.
    25. Carlos Franqui, Diario de la Revolución Cubana (Paris: Ruedo Ibérico, 1976), 611.
    26. For a detailed analysis of Che Guevara’s politics see Samuel Farber, The Politics of Che Guevara: Theory and Practice (Chicago: Haymarket Books, 2016).
    27. Aleksandr Fursenko and Timothy Naftali, “One Hell of a Gamble,” Khrushchev, Castro, and Kennedy 1958–1964 (New York: W.W. Norton and Co., 1997), 18.
    28. Ibid., 77.
    29. Jerry F. Hough, The Struggle for the Third World: Soviet Debates and American Options (Washington, DC: Brookings Institution, 1986), 120.
    30. William Taubman, Khrushchev: The Man and His Era (New York: Norton, 2003), 402.
    31. Herbert Dinerstein, The Making of a Missile Crisis: October 1962 (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1976), 113.
    32. Jerry F. Hough, The Struggle for the Third World, 120; and Jean Lacouture, Nasser: A Biography (New York: Knopf, 1973), 230–35, 244.
    33. For a recent brief but thorough examination of “structural racism” in Cuba see Sandra Abd’Allah-Alvarez Ramírez, ¿Racismo “estructural” en Cuba? Notas para el debate,” Cuba Posible, September 6, 2017. https://cubaposible.com/racismo-estructu….
    34. Silvio Castro Fernández, La Masacre de los independientes de color en 1912, 2nd edition (La Habana: Editorial de Ciencias Sociales, 2008).
    35. For details of the “revolutionary offensive” that nationalized all urban businesses see my article “Cuba in 1968,” Jacobin, April 30, 1968, https://jacobinmag.com/2018/04/cuba-1968….
    36. An authentic plebiscite, such as the “Brexit” elections in Great Britain, assumes extensive public discussion previous to the elections, ending with a “Yes” or “No” secret vote at the ballot box.
  • Solidarity with the Algerian People

    Solidarity with the Algerian People

    Solidarity with the Algerian people in their struggle for popular sovereignty

    Renaissance of the Algerian revolution

    Statement of Fourth International Bureau

    Algeria is experiencing a popular uprising that is unprecedented since the proclamation of national independence. Since 22 February 2019, following calls launched on the Internet, large rallies, with a massive presence of women, have been organized in all cities, followed by workers and young students.

    The trigger for this powerful popular anger was the obstinacy of the government in keepng Abdelaziz Bouteflika as President of the country for a fifth term – when he has already spent 20 years in office – by expanding his powers through successive amendments to the Constitution. The government’s desire to impose a very sick old man as nominal president is strongly felt as contempt for the people, and in effect as a transfer of his prerogatives to a behind-the-scenes faction.  This contempt has unleashed decades of pent-up anger against the policy of looting national wealth, dismantling the public sector, increasing domestic public debt, and further repression of democratic freedoms.

    The popular struggle is growing and attracting new layers of demonstrators united by the goal of ousting Abdelaziz Bouteflika from power as soon as his term ends on 28 April 2019 and refusing to allow his defenders and all government members to be involved in determining the country’s future.

    The ruling clique has so far tried to be unwavering faced with this popular uprising and manoeuvring to gain time to avoid its fall. After being convinced to hold elections to impose the sitting president’s candidacy, it decided to cancel the presidential elections and extend Bouteflika’s term in a way that violates the Constitution, which it amended at will in the hope of deceiving the demonstrators. It has even begun to implement its plan presented as a roadmap for a “new republic” built by the outgoing president.

    The popular response was expressed on 16 March 2019 at the largest demonstration of millions of Algerians throughout the country, calling for the rejection both of President Bouteflika’s continuation in office after the end of his term and of the clique behind him.

    This faction of the ruling regime will oppose attempts to overthrow it and will try by all possible means to escape the people’s verdict using one of the following ways:

    • temporarily withdrawing in order to then regain control over the Algerian people;
    • concluding an agreement with the liberal opposition parties to include them in the government in exchange for guaranteeing the interests of this corrupt clique;
    • direct intervention by the army, which would be justified by the dangers threatening the country, or by the legal vacuum left by the end of Bouteflika’s mandate if elections are not held
    • inviting a personality with a little credit to play the role of appeasing popular anger in the meantime.

    All these options constitute a major betrayal of the popular demands.

    Abdelaziz Bouteflika’s fourth presidential term is drawing to a close leaving Algeria on the brink of an economic crisis. Monetary reserves are declining at a record pace and may run out in the coming years. The budget deficit is growing significantly and the excessive printing of money will create inflation and a currency collapse that will lead to a sharp drop in purchasing power. The government wants to keep its material base by leaving the economy focused solely on specializing in the export of hydrocarbons and derived products, importing its main capital and consumer goods. It continues to benefit from oil rents, widespread corruption, and the monopoly of import and investment permits.

    The imperialist institutions will use their influence to take advantage of the current situation and force Algeria to implement quickly and fully neoliberal measures such as the opening of the market to imperialist capital, the privatization of the public sector, the liberalization of the energy sector, the abolition of public subsidies for mass consumption, and cuts in public sector jobs. This neoliberal doctrine converges with the project of the liberal bourgeoisie, which also opposes Bouteflika’s clique in power on the pace of this liberalization. The implementation of these neoliberal policies will constitute a profound regression for Algerian working and popular classes and a theft of their sacrifices. Hence the responsibility of socialist activists to join forces on the basis of a programme of demands with a perspective of class independence that will accompany the mobilization and organization of the working class, youth and women for a sovereign constituent assembly that will ensure a radical democratic regime and an independent economy to meet the basic needs of the population, based on collective ownership and grassroots control.

    Young people and the popular classes have played an important role in the ongoing popular struggle, as have workers, particularly public service workers. However, the intervention of workers with an independent class perspective and decisive economic strength requires the support and mobilization of workers in strategic sectors, such as petrochemicals, ports, banks, transport and logistics. This would profoundly change the balance of power and stifle the ruling clique and, more importantly, it would guarantee that the Algerian people decide the political and economic future of the country.

    The Fourth International expresses its full solidarity with the struggles of the Algerian people to bring down a regime, of dictatorship, corruption and dependence, and supports its right to popular sovereignty through a sovereign Constituent Assembly.

    We condemn the support of the imperialist governments for the ruling regime and their intervention in a matter that concerns the Algerian people exclusively. We hope that the dynamics of the struggles that are emerging in Morocco and Tunisia, which are also experiencing a political and social crisis, will mark the beginning of a victory of the popular revolutions that will revive the glory of the national liberation revolutions, of which the Algerian revolution was one of the symbols in the struggle against imperialism on an international scale.

    We call on all socialists and democrats in the world to support the Algerian people in their struggle and to prepare themselves for the duty of international solidarity in the face of the evolution of a great struggle that is still in its infancy.

    Long live the struggle of the Algerian people for their popular sovereignty!

    Down with the dictatorship of corruption and archaic dependence, for a sovereign Constituent Assembly!

    For international solidarity with the struggle of the Algerian people!

    Executive Bureau of the Fourth International
    27 March 2019

    Originally posted at International Viewpoint.

  • A response to an Open Letter from Professional Staff Congress leaders on “$7K or Strike!”

    A response to an Open Letter from Professional Staff Congress leaders on “$7K or Strike!”

    As members of the $7K or Strike Campaign (which includes City University of New York [CUNY] adjuncts, tenure-track/tenured faculty, HEOs, CLTs, students, and other NYC union members) we are deeply disappointed by the March 21, 2019 letter signed by PSC Principal Officers Barbara Bowen, Andrea Vásquez, Sharon Persinger, and Nivedita Majumdar, which has misinformed our fellow union members about our work. (more…)

  • The British Labour Party – The Largest Sect in the World

    The British Labour Party – The Largest Sect in the World

    “Destiny guides our fortunes more favorably than we could have expected. Look there, Sancho Panza, my friend, and see those thirty or so wild giants, with whom I intend to do battle and kill each and all of them, so with their stolen booty we can begin to enrich ourselves. This is nobel, righteous warfare, for it is wonderfully useful to God to have such an evil race wiped from the face of the earth.”
    “What giants?” Asked Sancho Panza.
    “The ones you can see over there,” answered his master, “with the huge arms, some of which are very nearly two leagues long.”
    “Now look, your grace,” said Sancho, “what you see over there aren’t giants, but windmills, and what seems to be arms are just their sails, that go around in the wind and turn the millstone.”
    “Obviously,” replied Don Quijote, “you don’t know much about adventures.”

    Many issues have been raised by the demonstration for a People’s Vote on Saturday 23 March. By any account, it was one of the largest political demonstrations in British history, likely rivaling in size the great anti-war demonstration on 15 February 2013.

    Other than their size, another striking similarity between these two mass demonstrations was the lack of any real official Labour Party support. While in the case of both the invasion of Iraq and the withdrawal from the European Union, the vast majority of Labour members and supporters were firmly opposed, and those active in the campaigns were overwhelmingly natural Labour Party supporters; the Labour leadership was conspicuously absent from the demonstrations. In the case of the Iraq War, this was an imperialist policy driven by the Labour government in power. In the case of the European Union, with the Labour Party in opposition, its absence from the largest mass oppositional demonstration in at least eighteen years is less explicable.

    Not only was Jeremy Corbyn not present at the demonstration, choosing instead to campaign in Morecambe, almost his entire leadership team was absent. There were, of course, Labour MPs present; most notably the Deputy Leader Tom Watson. This was not, however, as part of any official coordinated effort on the part of Labour. The demonstration was not built through official Labour channels. Organisers, Constituency Labour Parties and branches were not in any way mobilised for the march. In fact, rather than build the demonstration, the Labour Party instead encouraged its members to go out canvassing that Saturday, in what seemed an act calculated to encourage loyalists to stay away.

    Furthermore, those, such as Tom Watson, who did support the demonstration have been subjected to derision and attacks on the part of some Corbyn supporters. This fits a pattern where opposition to Brexit has come to be seen as a sign of disloyalty to Corbyn and to Labour. Accusations of “Blairism”, “neoliberalism”, and so forth have flown thick and fast. This has been accompanied by vulgar, and frankly embarrassing workerism, with opposition to Brexit being painted as some kind of middle class affectation.

    It should go without saying that much of the criticism of Corbyn with regards to his attitude towards the European Union has come from the right wing of the party. Some of this could be viewed as purely cynical – the right of the party has made no secret of its opposition to Corbyn’s leadership (just as the left made no secret of its opposition to Blair), and will use any excuse to attack him. The issue of Europe – where Corbyn is out of step with the majority of Labour members, supporters and voters, including those loyal to him – is an obviously fruitful line of attack. It is also, however, a matter of political principle. The Labour right has always been genuinely committed to the European project, and it should not be beyond the realm of comprehension that they are genuinely appalled by the leadership’s seeming acceptance of Brexit, and its refusal to engage with the People’s Vote campaign in any serious way.

    This absence from the demonstration has fitted a pattern with regards to the anti-Brexit movement, where Corbyn and the Labour leadership have dragged their feet on taking a clear oppositional stance on the matter. While the Labour Party has shifted slowly towards a position of, perhaps, supporting a People’s Vote, its entire approach since the 2016 referendum result has been one of feet dragging and equivocation. Any argument that it hasn’t been is disingenuous at best. The leadership supported the invocation of Article 50, committed to Brexit in the 2017 general election manifesto, and opposed the People’s Vote policy until it was forced into an ambiguous compromise position by its own loyalists at the 2018 party conference.

    There are a few reasons for this attitude on the part of the leadership. The first is simply ideological. The left of the Labour Party has traditionally been hostile to the European Union, seeing it as a vehicle for international capitalism. The second is, in a sense, pragmatic. The Labour Party believes that in order to win elections it needs to, in one way or another, keep Leave voters on side, and taking a clear anti-Brexit position would lose it support. I hope to return to both these issues in later posts.

    There is another reason for the Labour leadership’s approach, which very much shapes its attitude, and the attitude of its supporters, towards the People’s Vote campaign and the anti-Brexit movement as a whole. The Labour Party, throughout its history and continuing to this day, has been marked by suspicion and hostility to any movement outside of its control. It has traditionally viewed any opposition within its own ranks to be the result of hostile outside forces. It has been more concerned with machinations and manoeuvres within its own organisation than with politics outside of it. Any major political development is viewed through the prism of how it might affect the Labour Party – whether it will allow the party to make gains or cause it to incur losses. All other considerations are of secondary importance.

    This is the attitude of a sect, rather than a movement.

    Viewed in this light, the Labour leadership’s attitude towards the anti-Brexit movement makes a lot more sense. While the underlying reasons for its policies may be ideological and pragmatic, its thinly veiled suspicion of the movement stems from an organisational culture which long precedes Corbyn’s election to the leadership. Ever since the referendum, Brexit has been derided as a distraction by many within Labour, who argue we should concentrate on Labour’s domestic agenda. Its response to the turmoil that has resulted from May’s failure in the Brexit negotiations has been to demand a new general election, rather than an end to the withdrawal. Opposition to Brexit has been viewed as an act of disloyalty, orchestrated by Blairite traitors within the ranks.

    It is, however, wrong on the part of some of the leadership’s critics to blame this approach on Corbyn and the left. This attitude has been a feature of the Labour Party since its creation. It has always viewed itself as the one and only true expression of working class interests and progressive politics. Any deviation from the party’s line, any political demand which is not seen to be in the direct interest of the party, any support for a movement which is seen to be in competition with Labour, or just not under its control; is viewed as an act of treachery.

    This is often presented in quite basic and, on the face of it, pragmatic terms. When in opposition, we are told that our primary concern should be to “get the Tories out”. When in power, of course, our primary concern should be to “keep the Tories out”. Any opposition to the leadership, left or right, risks jeopardising this.

    These arguments have been used many times in Labour Party history. IN the 1980s, most notably during the Miners’ Strike, industrial militants were warned that strike action would undermine the Labour Party’s attempts to oust Thatcher. The Labour Party’s concern about its electoral hopes were the main factor in stifling the increasingly radical movement against the pit closures in 1992. These movements were at risk of growing outside of the control of the Labour Party leadership, and were therefore treated with suspicion and hostility. They were distractions and indulgences, of secondary importance to the Labour Party’s aim to “get the Tories out”. After the 1997 election victory, opposition to every betrayal of New Labour was accused of jeopardising the Labour Party’s hold on power. Whatever the New Labour government did, up to and including the slaughter of millions of innocent people in Afghanistan and Iraq, we had to “keep the Tories out”.

    The Labour Party, when all is said and done, is an institution, with its own interests to consider. Its whole existence is predicated upon seeking, gaining and consolidating power. The development of movements outside of its structures risks building alternative centres of power that threaten its own primacy within the working class. The movement against Brexit is considered a threat to the Labour Party precisely because it is not under its control, and because its aims are not seen as serving the leadership’s interests – namely, electing a Labour government. Worse, it is seen (not entirely unreasonably) as a vehicle for the leadership’s opponents.

    It is a common feature of any sect to view outside political developments that do not directly serve its interests as a threat, perhaps as a result of a conspiracy by dubious outside forces. In this case, the People’s Vote campaign is derided as a middle class movement whipped up by Blairites and other disreputable liberals, aimed at dislodging Corbyn’s socialist leadership. It is undeniable that some of those involved in this campaign are Blairites liberals (some of whom are no doubt disreputable); but to write off an entire mass movement due to the politics of some of its leadership is close to the textbook definition of sectarianism. If the anti-Brexit movement is dominated by opponents of the Labour leadership, it is only because the Labour leadership absented itself from it. If their primary concern is that the movement is being pulled to the right, they would involve themselves in order to pull it leftwards, not ignore it altogether, and abandon its millions of supporters to the “Blairites”.

    Brexit is one part of a growing international shift towards racist authoritarianism, where the old liberal democratic norms are being undermined and abandoned. Three of the world’s largest liberal democracies – the United States, India and Brazil – have elected far right governments. Right wing populist movements and political parties are sweeping Europe. Any left worthy of that moniker would make opposing and reversing this trend its absolute priority. In Britain, we have been lucky in that, as a right wing racist movement has grown, a left wing counterweight in the form of Corbynism has grown as well. Many of those who we will rely upon to defeat the far right will look to the Labour Party, and to Corbyn, for leadership. However, if for opportunistic, fractional reasons, opposition to the growth of right authoritarianism is made a lesser priority for the Labour Party gaining power, and furthermore, those who organise themselves independently to do so are isolated and even treated with hostility, we are at risk of falling into old patterns of behaviour, where we ignore or abandon the wider movement for the sake of short term institutional gain. Corbynism would cease to be a movement, and become nothing more than just another Labour leadership demanding our unconditional loyalty and failing to deliver us anything in return.

    Originally posted at Red Meridian.

  • Latest News From France: Online Discussion on Sunday

    Latest News From France: Online Discussion on Sunday

    The situation here may be reaching a showdown between the Macron government, which is now considering using the Army against the Yellow Vests, and the social movement, to whose demands the regime continues to turn a deaf ear.

    In the last week, we have seen a nation-wide strike of High School and other students demanding immediate government intervention to stop the global warming that threatens their future lives. The government response: police brutality against teenagers.

    On Saturday, there was a massive March for the Climate all over France, perhaps 150,000 demonstrators, which converged with the “19th Act” of the weekly Yellow Vest demonstrations, which have just celebrated their fourth monthly anniversary. Again, much police brutality, but only against the Yellow Vests, not the Climate people.

    On Tuesday (Mar 19th) the CGT and a coalition of other unions sponsored a one-day nation-wide interprofessional strike, which the Yellow Vests supported and joined in the name of “convergence” and common goals: restore public services, retirement, social security, salaries, and a demand to be listened to.

    Radio silence from Paris.

    Simultaneously, the Macron government has hastily passed several new repressive laws making demonstrations all but illegal. Macron has fired the Police Prefect for being too soft on demonstrators (!) and for not using enough of the Flashballs that have already killed an old woman on her balcony and seriously injured (blinded) over a hundred demonstrators, thousands of whom have been arrested. These weapons, made in Switzerland and labeled as weapons of war there, have been proclaimed ‘medium crowd control defense weapons’ by France, despite the protests of Michelle Bachelet and the European and UN Human Rights groups.

    The showdown is likely to happen tomorrow, Saturday, and frankly I have no idea what will happen if the government uses total military might to crush the still-popular Yellow Vests, who are unlikely to back down but may change their tactics.

    On Sunday, at 16 hours GMT, the Future Historians International Study Group will hold an online discussion on the situation in France, with participants from California to Moscow, including three of us here in France. You are welcome to join us. If you are not a regular, you can register by sending an email to AnotherWorldNYC@gmail.com.

    You will then receive an invitation to join a ZOOM conference call a few minutes before the broadcast time in your time zone. Please join us.

  • More on the Oakland Teachers’ Strike

    More on the Oakland Teachers’ Strike

    Editor’s note: This article responds to analysis New Politics has already published on the Oakland teachers’ strike. In hosting different viewpoints on the strike, New Politics continues its tradition of opening its pages (and now its website) to debates about labor struggles and social justice.  If you agree this is essential for the left, please help sustain New Politics by donating and subscribing now.

    Oakland teachers on strike. (Photo by Aric Crabb/Bay Area News Group)

    The Oakland Teachers Strike of 2019 was a victory for teachers and the movement for quality public education nationwide. It had tight organization, terrific multiracial local organizing led by new President Keith Brown, creative grassroots leadership at almost every school site, overwhelming teacher and community support, and inspirational tactics.  There is little doubt that the strength of the Oakland strike together with an equally strong Los Angeles strike and a looming Sacramento strike have shaken up the calculations of California power brokers about what is possible in the education battles ahead.

    However, one little understood fact about Oakland’s situation has left room for mainstream media to blame layoffs and program cuts on the teachers. Oakland has been under partial or total state control for sixteen years, and its state-appointed administrators ran up a $50 million debt at 8% interest with no input from Oakland residents and officials. The district is still paying off that debt and is still being managed in the background by a set of nearly invisible non-elected actors who are empowered to make decisions for what is arguably America’s most multi-racial and progressive city. Because few are aware of this reality there has emerged a post-strike narrative that the teachers’ settlement is responsible for cuts and layoffs which were actually demanded by the State long before the strike occurred.

    Oakland’s struggle with state control has important implications for every urban district, and every education-related union. The loss of local control gives state controllers the ability to demand  layoffs and cuts and even to impose union contracts.

    In 1988, a year after Oakland elected a majority African-American school board, a set of corporate-oriented Democratic politicians started trying to take over the district. Due to the courageous leadership of then school-board President Sylvester Hodges and a very small coalition of oppositional residents, the district was saved from state control for 15 years by maintaining a balanced budget and ignoring the racism of a state government far whiter than many of the cities it dominates. It is the only instance, I believe, where a district has been able to fight off state control.

    Soon after Director Hodges retired from the Board, a powerful State Senator, Don Perata, set his sights on state take-over. As I wrote in the S.F. Chronicle at the time, “Perata has a long-term plan for building a political machine powered in part with school district resources — the contracts, jobs and programs that he can steer in the direction of his allies and potential allies.” (Feb. 16, 2000)

    In 2003 Perata succeeded in getting a take-over bill (SB 39) through the California state legislature based on a debatable deficit. The school board had all its power taken away, and a state administrator, Randy Ward, trained in the superintendent’s academy sponsored by real estate developer, Eli Broad, took over the school district.

    The financial position of the district got worse every year the state was in charge, going from what was approximately a 39 million dollar debt to an 89 million debt, all of it spent by state administrators.  When a local district is said to have an unbalanced budget the punishment is state take over. But, when the state makes the district’s deficit worse, who get punished?  Not the state overseers obviously.

    Local control was supposedly returned to the district in 2009, but in fact, a state trustee and the Bakersfield-based Fiscal Crisis Management Assistance Team (FCMAT) have continued to have authority over district decisions.

    What was the impact of state control on the strike?  The district has claimed that the strike is responsible for possible layoffs of other workers that may occur next year.  In fact, the extra $50 million spent by state administrators with no input from Oaklanders would have prevented many layoffs and cuts.

    And what about the teacher demands?  Is an 11% raise enough? Given that the State had the power to impose a contract with no raise, it should be considered a big victory.  Is a 5-month moratorium on school closures enough?  No, but given that school closures is one of FCMAT’s biggest priorities, it is a victory, especially if teachers and community spend that five months organizing against those closures, and the Oakland Education Association has already declared that it intends to do just that.

    Few people in Oakland are fully aware of the extent of the state’s control. The community and the union were not able to win on preventing program cuts, because the state had already mandated that they must occur. FCMAT CEO Michael Fine told the school board in October 2018 “You will make these cuts or they will be made for you” referring to $20 million in program and personnel cuts being demanded of the district.

    And it does not take a conspiracy theorist  to note that the displacement of African-Americans from Oakland and the closure of schools with a disproportionate number of African-American students are more than a coincidence. The power to close schools, a major demand of FCMAT, is an important aspect of gentrification.  The schools attended by Oakland’s long-term residents are being made to disappear to make room for the more segregated and tracked schools likely to appeal to more affluent gentrifiers. One of the biggest losses of this year has been the district’s closure of a neighborhood middle school, Roots, leaving several hundred youngsters devastated and facing few choices beyond a middle school located 2 ½ miles away.

    The local Oakland community needs to do some investigation of its own into its non-elected overseers, and the Sacramento unionists will need to strategize against the threat of state takeover which has greeted talk of their strike.

    It is actually possible to turn these battles against the politicians who initiate anti-democratic takeovers. Don Perata was certain that his take-over of the district would lead to his being elected Mayor.  But by the time he ran in 2010, school activists were so angry with the results of state control, they put enormous energy into campaigning against him, and he lost, despite spending three times as much money as his nearest competitor. Other politicians are a bit more leery of being associated with take-overs as a result.

    For all the complications and impediments, the people of the U.S.  have a better chance now of getting to a strengthened and  transformed public school system than we have had in the several decades before this surge of grassroots-driven teacher strikes.

  • An Election Challenge: Time for Change at NewsGuild?

    An Election Challenge: Time for Change at NewsGuild?

    The 21,000-member NewsGuild, an affiliate of the Communications Workers of America (CWA), is a rarity in organized labor. It’s one of the few national unions that lets all members vote for its top officers, instead of choosing them at a convention limited to local union delegates.

    Unfortunately, this democratic union, which has recently experienced major growth, may be dimming its luster among journalists in newly organized workplaces by excluding some from a leadership vote that begins this week.

    The good news is that 3,000 staff members of sixty publications or “new media” outlets have won the right to negotiate with management in the last four years.The bad news is that two-thirds of them are still engaged in protracted struggles for a first contract, at papers like the Los Angeles Times.

    Members in Good Standing?

    Following standard U.S. union procedure, the Guild does not ask newly organized workers to start paying dues until such negotiations are concluded and a first contract has been ratified.

    In the meantime, if they’ve signed Guild membership cards, they can help choose local bargaining committee members and vote to approve (or reject) any contract settlement.

    But, if they haven’t paid dues money to the Guild yet, they are not considered “members in good standing.” So, if an election for national union leaders is underway, they have no say about who will direct Guild organizing and bargaining for the next four years.

    The contested status of new Guild activists has given rise to an unusual leadership challenge, mounted by one of their own. Jon Schleuss, a 31-year old reporter at the Los Angeles Times, who helped lead a successful organizing drive there, is running for Guild president against  61-year old Bernie Lunzer. The latter has been a full-time union official, at the local or national level, since the year his opponent was born. He has been re-elected president twice without opposition.

    For some Guild members, Lunzer’s three-decades of experience vs Schleuss’s three-years of union involvement makes the choice between the two a no-brainer. Guild Executive Vice-President Marian Needham, already re-elected by acclamation, warns about putting “this organization in the hands of a person who has never been a local president, never been to a [Guild] conference as a delegate, never served as a pension trustee, or as a steward, for that matter, in a shop with a contract” and “never had a day’s experience working as a union representative.”

    The incumbent’s campaign website—Buildingtheguild.org—stresses his involvement in past bargaining fights like the Detroit newspaper strike in the mid-1990s. As Guild president since 2008, Lunzer has “participated in multiple contract negotiations throughout the U.S. and helped locals in Canada and Puerto Rico on major issues.”

    Rank-and-File Campaigner

    At his own expense and assisted by small donations from fellow Guild members, Schleuss is visiting newsrooms and participating in candidate debates across the country, where he makes the case for generational change. At a March 12 campaign stop at the Minneapolis Star Tribune, where his opponent once worked, he spoke to about 60 day and night shift workers.

    He described his background as a campus activist and then fledgling daily newspaper reporter and local NPR show host in Arkansas. In 2013, he became an award-winning data and graphics reporter at the Los Angeles Times, a non-union bastion for 135 years. He played a key leadership role in organizing 460 LA Times coworkers, a breakthrough which inspired Guild campaigns among media workers elsewhere. While serving on his own local bargaining committee, Schleuss has taught journalism at the University of Southern California. He urged Minneapolis NewsGuild members to check out details of his platform at https://www.jonforpresident.com/.

    “The reaction to Jon at our paper was extremely positive,” says Randy Furst, a veteran reporter, Guild member for 46 years and past union vice-chair of the Star-Tribune. “Schleuss is a breath of fresh air. He’s committed to mobilizing members and organizing new media sectors. He is exactly the type of person we need to lead our union at this critical moment when newspapers and other news organizations are under attack.”

    According to Furst, workers in his 200-person bargaining unit have an election complaint of their own. Unlike many Guild dues payers, who will be voting by mail during a six-week period, Star Tribune staff will be allotted only one hour to cast their ballots, at work, on a single day. With no absentee voting permitted, Furst fears that turn-out will be greatly reduced. Since Schleuss’s visit, fired up Minneapolis Guild members have been circulating a petition demanding that voting opportunities be expanded, either through mail balloting, scheduling more time for walk-in voting, or making absentee ballots available.

    Dialogue Needed?

    On the issue of recently organized workers not being able to vote, Guild President Lunzer agrees that “we need a dialogue going forward on this issue” because “we’ve not been in this situation before.” He expresses confidence that the union can “devise a solution that would be approved by the membership” and “that would involve earlier payment of dues than expected in new units.” Becoming a member in good standing—prior to or without being covered by a Guild contract—“could be an individual’s decision.”

    In the meantime, the deadline for becoming an eligible voter in the current election was last December. So even reporters in several units that have ratified first contracts since then will be disenfranchised, a situation which Norfolk, VA. Guild member Brock Vergakis finds exasperating. “There’s lots of room for improvement [in the Guild] and it starts with making it easier for more people to participate,” he told PayDay Report.

    Unlike most unions, the Guild does provide space on its web-site for campaign statements from both candidates for national president. But, according to leaders of seven newly-formed Guild units—who call themselves “Journalists for a Democratic Union”—information about the Guild’s nominating convention in January only became available a few weeks before the meeting. When some new activists attended, they were seated as “guests,” not delegates. When Schleuss was nominated for president by duly credentialed delegates from three large locals, he was given two minutes to appeal for broader support.

    The challenger from Los Angeles, who can’t even vote for himself, favors “reforming the Guild’s constitution to increase democracy and transparency in our union.” According to Schleuss, “every member in good standing should be encouraged to vote in our elections, and we should make casting a ballot as simple and secure as possible.”

    Leading Not Easy

    It’s likely that many Guild loyalists—if they are eligible to vote—will be casting their ballots based on how they think the union is faring against powerful employers in a rapidly changing industry. Nolan Rosenkrans, president of the Toledo NewsGuild, favors Lunzer because of his past help battling “an ownership group that views its employees with contempt.” As Rosenkrans notes, “leading an international union is not easy. Each local has its own priorities, its own concerns, its own fights. Not only does Bernie care about each fight at each local, he knows how to unite those locals.”

    A Schleuss supporter in another local, who chose not to be identified, blamed Guild headquarters for being stuck, for too long, in a “defensive posture,” when dealing with a “corporate onslaught” of job cuts and contract concessions at traditional newspapers. According to this organizer, the union was “unprepared and ill- equipped” to recruit workers in “new media” jobs. He/she hopes that a leadership change, reflecting the union’s grassroots organizing surge, will help shake up the culture and functioning of the Guild.

    That kind of shake-up in other unions, like the American Federation of Teachers, hasn’t been the product of electing just one new leader. In Chicago and Los Angeles, AFT affiliates became more militant and democratic—and able to conduct successful city-wide contract struggles—only after years of work by a well-organized reform caucus and/or a full slate of new officers.

    Among Schleuss’s many disadvantages, in the Guild, is his last-minute entry into the race, without any running mates for two other top positions. (Lunzer is aligned with an “administration team” that includes two female Guild leaders.) If the “Journalists for a Democratic Union” supporting Schleuss evolve into a stronger, more broad-based network within the Guild as a result of his campaign, the organizational changes they seek will become far more achievable, whether their candidate wins or loses this time around.

  • Ortega Government Cracks Down on Peaceful Protesters, Carries Out Massive Arbitrary Detentions

    Ortega Government Cracks Down on Peaceful Protesters, Carries Out Massive Arbitrary Detentions

    Today, March 16, 2019, Nicaraguan citizens using their constitutional right to protest, gathered in various parts of the country to peacefully protest the Ortega-Murillo regime and demand the release of all political prisoners. Protesters were met with violent repression and were assaulted by police. (more…)

  • The New Politics of Disablement: The Contribution of Mike Oliver

    The New Politics of Disablement: The Contribution of Mike Oliver

    Mike Oliver, Emeritus Professor of Disability Studies at the University of Greenwich in England, has died at the age of 74 after a short illness. (more…)

  • Capitalism and the Reactionary Power of White Identity Politics

    Capitalism and the Reactionary Power of White Identity Politics

    Yet the end that planters and poor whites envisaged and, as the fight went on, the end that large numbers of the Northern capitalists were fighting for, was a movement in the face of modern progress. It did not go to the length of disfranchising the whole laboring class, black and white, because it dared not do this, although this was its logical end. It did disenfranchise black labor with the aid of white Southern Labor and with the silent acquiescence of white Northern labor.”

    — W.E.B. DuBois, Black Reconstruction in America 1860-1880

    Momentum for building a post-neoliberal U.S. has been gaining strength with each passing day. However, despite the rise of new and exciting figures, such as Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and the tide of striking teachers in even GOP dominated states, we must remain aware that whenever there has been potential for revolutionizing government and politics, there has always followed a reactionary and brutal backlash.

    For instance, during Reconstruction, a counterrevolutionary force swept across the South, erecting a system of apartheid and which stripped away newly won economic and political rights for most African Americans. Similarly, in the late 1960s/early 1970s, as African Americans fought to end apartheid across the country, their efforts were met with violence and terror.

    Whenever there has been possibility for the U.S. to free itself from capitalist rule, there has always been a countervailing force allowing for the status quo to recover and regenerate. And often, that countervailing/counterrevolutionary threat that has time and time again cut short eras brimming with hope and promise has been white identitarian politics.

    Economic elites and the Right recognize the power of whiteness and its ability to stall major political and economic progress. Although there is now an energized Left in this country, there remains the opportunity for white identity politics to reemerge more potent than ever, especially as Donald Trump and his billionaire allies are desperate to maintain their power in the face of demographic change and the reality that many young people have become jaded with capitalism. If the Left hopes to succeed in turning their vision for economic and political liberation into reality, understanding the reactionary power of white identity politics is essential.

    Whiteness and the Project of U.S. Capitalism

    When the U.S. state was first forged by European American men of economic privilege like George Washington and Thomas Jefferson, their goal was to preserve their own interests. They did this by elevating the protection of property rights and in forging ahead in the development of a capitalist economy.

    What this meant, however, for the vast majority of Americans, who were also European but were at the bottom rung of the economic hierarchy, was that access to economic power was limited. Hoping to pacify the white masses and prevent them from uprising, the founding fathers allowed those defined as “white” the right to vote and the right to certain other freedoms while most African Americans and the indigenous were denied those very same rights and freedoms.

    As noted by Matthew Frye Jacobson and David Roediger, by restricting certain rights to mostly whites and denying them to African American and the indigenous, this cultivated a sense of superiority, even among white workers, and a feeling of cross-class “solidarity” between white workers and the white elite. Instead of viewing the world as divided between themselves and those who exploited them, many white workers soon accepted the premise that they, along with their white employers, shared in a struggle over resources against the “uncivilized” black and brown people.

    Over the years, the contours and shape of whiteness would shift to meet the needs of the economic and political elite. When the Irish and Italian first arrived, they were discriminated against by other European Americans. However, after the Civil War, Northern and Southern elites understood that to avert rebellion from a white and black alliance, the Irish and newer European immigrants must be integrated into the mainstream. Establishment politicians started to encourage other white Americans to accept them and the Irish and Italian immigrants learned to distance themselves from African Americans by refusing to work with them and by supporting explicitly white supremacist political candidates.

    Matthew Frye Jacobson writes in Whiteness of a Different Color: European Immigrants and the Alchemy of Race, “The contending forces that have fashioned and refashioned whiteness in the United State across time, I argue, are capitalism (with its insatiable appetite for cheap labor) and republicanism (with its imperative of responsible citizenship).”

    Whiteness provides for some to be included into the mainstream but on terms that preserves the overarching economic and political structure of capitalism, which means that the wealth produced by white and black workers is still to be siphoned off into the coffers of the capitalist class.

    The Reactionary Power of Whiteness

    The era of Reconstruction marked the expansion of political and economic freedom. Land was gradually redistributed to African Americans who had just been emancipated. Education and voting rights had finally become accessible as well, especially for African Americans.

    However, reactionary Northern and Southern economic elites feared that these changes could strip them of their power and lead to a dismantling of economic and political hierarchies. Therefore, to prevent any of these changes taking root, the elite exploited white resentment among the white masses, suggesting that if the previous economic and political hierarchy was to be overturned, then the “uncivilized” black population would reign over the “civilized” white one.

    “The race element was emphasized in order that property-holders could get the support of the majority of white laborers and make it more possible to exploit Negro labor,” DuBois explained in Black Reconstruction, his magnum opus on the conditions of race and class in the U.S. following the Civil War. He added, “But the race philosophy came as a new and terrible thing to make labor unity or labor class-consciousness impossible. So long as the Southern white laborers could be induced to prefer poverty to equality with the Negro, just so long was a labor movement in the South made impossible.”

    The strategy succeeded as whites terrorized their black neighbors rather than their white bosses. Southern legislators passed laws that stripped African Americans of their newly won freedoms, including the right to vote, while retaining it for whites, which reinforced the feelings of superiority and entitlement.

    Similarly, by the 1960s and 1970s, the U.S. was once more experiencing significant challenges to its political order. Black radicals were on the frontline demanding an end to exploitation alongside Chicano and Asian American activists as well as white radicals and allies. However, the right-wing and those invested in “protecting” property rights and other bourgeois values, including so-called republicanism, gradually developed a coalition of white Americans, including working-class to middle, whose white entitlement and aggrievement were once more activated.

    “Cartoonish rhetoric proliferated,” Jefferson Cowie explains in The Great Exception, “For example, the suggestion that working peoples’ taxes were being pipelined directly to black welfare recipients, a racist fantasy catalyzed by Reagan’s Cadillac-driving ‘welfare queen’ stories, which helped many people justify pulling the Republican lever for the first time in generations of their families’ history.”

    A white backlash politics was reenergized and sustained over several election cycles, elevating the political careers of men like Richard Nixon, Ronald Reagan and of course, Donald Trump. These right-wing politicians and their corporate allies have appealed to whiteness as they dismantle the welfare state and replace it with a neoliberal one in which the economic elite hordes the country’s wealth while everyone else has to work multiple jobs to survive. White Americans are told, implicitly and explicitly, that it’s their African American neighbors and immigrants of color who are making life difficult for them and that white businessmen and white politicians are the only ones to trust.

    A Radical Response

    The reality is those in power, the financial elite and their allies, realize that there is still a window of opportunity to maintain their influence and wealth for decades to come, even when the demographics shift. As Nancy MacLean and others like Wendy Brown and Quinn Slobodian have noted, those who have wanted to sustain their economic rule and believe in so-called “unfettered” free markets and capitalism have long understood that they must curtail democratic accountability and the ability for “ordinary people” to influence policy.

    Before white identity politics becomes less and less significant due to demographic changes, elites and their right-wing allies hope to weaponize whiteness in the interim to elect politicians who support anti-democratic and anti-egalitarian laws and measures, such as passing voter I.D. laws or appointing lifetime judges who are increasingly pro-business and anti-egalitarian. Consequently, it is in the interests of the anti-capitalist Left to inoculate enough white Americans, especially its working-class, against right-wing propaganda that appeals to white identity and racist demagoguery.

    One major way in doing this is through labor unions. Prior to deindustrialization and the purging of left-wing radicals from their memberships, unions had been a space in which different groups of people were drawn together, forced to see one another as allies rather than competitors. Radicals among them also pushed white union members to know more about issues surrounding capitalism and the importance of solidarity in the face of right-wing assault. This education was stopped once labor unions were gutted of their radicals by liberal reformers and when labor leaders themselves decided to allow its white members to maintain segregated unions and to essentially, retreat into their whiteness.

    As white labor activists seek to rebuild unions to what they once were decades ago, they must also, make efforts to reinvent unions as not only organizations fighting for better wages but as entities that can educate workers on important issues like white supremacy. In Solidarity Divided: The Crisis in Organized Labor and a New Path Toward Social Justice, long-time labor activists and political thinkers Bill Fletcher Jr. and Fernando Gapasin argue “Membership education is largely conceptual and secondarily technical. It aims to provide a framework that members can use to analyze their experiences and guide actions in their own interests. Thus, it deals with the big picture.”

    Whiteness is socially constructed and can be taken apart. If white radicals in the labor movement are serious about revolution, they must explain the dangers of white identity politics to white members in their community and in union spaces. Any hopes of building an anti-racist, anti-colonialist economic and political system requires white radicals pushing other whites in identifying that progress for African-Americans and other groups of color means that all workers benefit.

    “My rise does not involve your fall,” DuBois once stated about the last time when a new economic and political system appeared to be on the horizon.

  • Reminiscences of the First Sanders Campaign

    Reminiscences of the First Sanders Campaign

    The words jumped from the screen like the familiar opines of old love letters.

    ‘Single-payer healthcare’, ‘break up the banks’, ‘fifteen dollar minimum wage’, ‘tuition free college’.

    I had been surreptitiously scrolling through the news on a short break from my daily grind as a graduate-level Civil Servant, and landed upon the headline ‘Bernie Sanders Launches White House Bid’, printed above the iconic image of the disheveled septuagenarian and champion of the progressive wing of the Democratic Party.

    Clicking into the article, I was grabbed by the gruff fist of nostalgia, and pulled from my drab office in Dublin back three years to my own small role in the Bernie Sanders presidential campaign of 2016.

    At the time, I was living in New York, having just finished an arts degree and struggling, like so many others, to survive on the lowly returns of an American internship.

    In an acquiescence to the societal convention that offering cheap labour is a rite of passage, certain to lead to the fruits of eventual gainful employment, I applied for and accepted an internship with a murky ‘Not for Profit’ in Lower Manhattan. Here I was paid $219 dollars a month.

    Previously I had always considered myself ‘of the left’, but it was in the heartless cauldron of capitalist America that I decided I was a socialist.

    As I began to read into and engage meaningfully with the lives and contributions of a plethora of figures from the American radical tradition, from Henry A. Wallace to Huey P. Newton, my own political reawakening was coinciding with, and ultimately crystallizing around, the unlikely insurgent candidacy of Bernie Sanders.

    ‘Bernie’ spoke to ideas of economic fairness, wealth inequality and class-based esteem, substantiated by a suite of progressive policies considered fringe by the standards of America; an average living wage of $15 an hour, campaign finance reform, scrapping the Trans-Pacific Partnership, investing in infrastructure to create middle class jobs, paid parental leave…

    Unkempt in appearance and unvarnished in performance, Bernie captured the zeitgeist of a new generation of Americans demanding a different type of politics. While much has been written about the Sanders phenomenon, my experience was that the collective sense of energy and excitement surrounding the ascendant Bernie campaign was, on a personal level, uplifting. Walking around the gentrified enclaves of Bushwick or Williamsburg, and passing café windows displaying faded blue placards stridently declaring ‘Sanders 2016’, or knowingly nodding at one of the countless young people adorned in ‘Feel the Bern’ garb, there was a palpable sense of unity and an almost smug appreciation that we, here, in this moment, are on the right side of history and possibly at the start of something transformative.

    *

    It was in the context of this febrile atmosphere that, after one too many Brooklyn Lagers at a ‘Sanders 2016’ fundraiser, I volunteered to travel on a coach the next day from New York City to Columbia, South Carolina, to canvass voters ahead of the upcoming primary there.

    The South Carolina primary was the fourth contest of the election season, and it came on foot of an unexpected string of Sanders triumphs. Against all odds and to the chagrin of the establishment class, Sanders virtually tied the Iowa caucus, the first of the election, and followed this result up with a big victory in New Hampshire. The Sanders campaign was at fever pitch, and naturally determined to consolidate this momentum with a result in South Carolina, the next state to vote. The South Carolina primary was endowed with a further significance, in that it was the first time Bernie’s message of economic realignment, so resonant with young and blue collar voters, would be tested amongst a predominantly African American electorate.

    And so I found myself standing at the curb of the monstrous Port Authority Bus Station in the dark hours of the following morning, duffel bag slung over shoulder, trying to downplay my Dublin accent in the tentative small talk of strangers. ‘Well, I, erm, I’m not actually American myself technically, but I’m kind of living here, you know…’, I remember offering, as our group of maybe thirty watched a beaten down old brown coach sputter around the corner of 8th Avenue and squeak to a halt in front of us.

    This 1980s-era coach – the vehicle of revolution – would be both home and political incubator for the next fifteen hours. Hesitantly at first, then excitedly, our little group shared personal stories of frustration and expectation, as the clunky bus crawled from the iron grip of the city, traversed miles of anonymous New Jersey motorway, and eventually willed itself into the lush wheat farms of Virginia and southwards towards the Carolinas.

    While of varying genders and ethnicities, the traveling company were notably young, with one or two exceptions. One such out-lier was Beth, who was eighty-nine, wore dark sunglasses perpetually, and had the sort of waxen, plasticine complexion reminiscent of a long-faded Hollywood star. A veteran of the civil rights movement and many an ill-fated progressive campaign over decades of political activism, Beth was the self-appointed matriarch of the group, who commanded complete admiration and respect. She also took a particular fondness to me. Approaching me with outstretched finger, she beckoned me forward and whispered conspiratorially:

    ‘Brendan Behan.’

    I nodded solemnly, and thus our bond was forged.

    *

    Pulling up outside a small one-story home in the suburbs of Columbia –which served as the Sanders campaign headquarters for the entire state – the industrious old bus finally disgorged its bleary-eyed squatters into the balmy South Carolinian morning.

    With barely a minute to use the bathroom, we were shepherded into a convoy of awaiting vehicles and ferried to various drop off points around the city of Columbia and its surrounding environs. I was paired with Mariana, a William and Mary graduate of Mexican heritage.

    After a short drive we disembarked at a self-contained complex of low apartment blocks, each unit just three stories high, a single abode comprising each story. The blocks, painted a dazzling orange, were repeated in uniform rows, maybe fifty in total, circling around a disused swimming pool. It was unlike any accommodation I had seen before. This was the androgynous housing of South Carolina’s suburban working class.

    We got to work knocking.

    The response was middling. Most people were receptive to the message, but unconvinced of Sanders’ ability to actually prevail over Clinton. It was a skepticism which sadly presaged the eventual narrative of Sanders’ performance across the South. Nonetheless, there were also genuinely uplifting moments, where a voter would be particularly engaged and on occasion even appear converted. Such little snatches of hope oxygenated the sense that an upset was possible, and buoyed the will to keep going, keep knocking.

    There were also many moments of levity, due almost exclusively to the resident’s sheer bafflement at the appearance of a slender Irishman peddling the message of democratic socialism at their doorstep. On one occasion I was asked by a middle-aged woman to speak down a telephone to her cousin, just so he could hear me perform a series of arbitrary words and sentences. Leveraging this apparent exoticism, I would incorporate my Irish patois into the pitch: ‘I have come all the way from Dublin, Ireland to ask for your vote next Tuesday.’

    In all of these hijinks Mariana was the perfect foil, focusing the interaction back onto the issues with empathy and political acuity. I was grateful for her companionship. In between doors she would tell me about growing up as a young ethnic American, and I was reminded of how much higher the stakes of the campaign were for women and men like Mariana, for whom there was no Ireland, imperfect though it is, to eventually return to.

    As the sun set over Columbia, we wearily regrouped at campaign HQ and recorded our tallies in a central log book. An impromptu round of applause greeted the realisation that the 89-year-old Beth earned the day’s record for most houses canvassed.

    *

    The resolve of the human character to find a pub when in any new environment, whatever the level of tiredness, is apparently a transnational phenomenon.  And so, with any notions of sleep promptly shelved, our ragged group set out to locate a boozer. The only watering hole within stumbling distance of the motel was a dank Southern joint with Your Sleeping Heart’ seeping from the jukebox, complete with four flannel-wearing locals sitting at the bar sipping suds. A stitched sign hanging above them declared, ‘Never Mind the Dog, Beware of the Owner’, embroidered below the picture of a shotgun. As we burst in the door, boisterous and adorned in Bernie clobber, the barmaid eyed us silently before eventually declaring, perhaps foreshadowing future electoral realities, ‘I’m sure as hell glad y’all aren’t for Hillary!’ As we exchanged stories and debated ideologies over rounds of offensively cheap Coors, we ended the night swaying arm over shoulder, the Pogues blasting the sanguine cobwebs of Hank Williams from the jukebox.

    *

    The next morning was our final day of campaigning in South Carolina. The experience on this occasion was different from the relative bonhomie of the orange apartment complex. A perceptible sense of unease descended as our car retreated further from the metropolitan centre and beyond the suburbs. Leafing through the clipboard containing the addresses of registered Democrats for the day’s canvassing, I noticed the sheaf was significantly thinner than the previous day.

    Mariana and I were deposited on a dirt road, flanked by expansive scorched fields, with little evidence of human activity. Batting away midges in the morning sun as we ambled along, the stillness only punctuated by the bark of a far-off dog, I thought of summers in Kilcar and cousins and endless days of languid exploration.

    The first premises we came across was a trailer, ensconced in a large fenced lot, one of many along this road that stretched for miles. It was my first glimpse into the underbelly of America’s working poor, failed by decades of neoliberal governance.

    One particularly stark image endures from that day. It is of two trailer homes, both separated by a link fence, practically identical save for a Confederate Flag limply hanging atop one. In the porch of the other sat an African American woman in a wicker chair, as her children played in the lot. It was a blunt reminder of the power of race to distract from an economic system that oppresses all working people.

    We returned to the bus that afternoon – our paltry returns recorded in the log book – soberly reminded of the distance left to travel in redressing a system so sickened by the corrupting influence of unbridled capitalism.

    *

    When I reflect on the news that Sanders is running again in 2020 – to ‘finish the job’ he started four years ago – I feel predominantly optimistic. In a crowded field, which is expected to encompass over twenty pretenders to the Democratic candidacy, for me Sanders remains the most ideologically progressive and politically principled of the prospective nominees. He is also the least compromised, in a field which already enumerates leftist charlatans with murky ties to Wall Street cash.

    However, my excitement at another Bernie run is tempered with some trepidation. The United States in 2019 is a much changed country to the one I briefly lived in. The energising and ground-breaking electoral success of Democratic women was the talking point of the 2018 primary elections. This trend could herald a more inclusive and diverse political future. There will be those who argue that a younger, possibly female aspirant should carry the progressive flame into 2020.

    There is an old adage that ‘you can never step into the same river twice’. It remains to be seen if the Sanders 2020 campaign can ignite a generation of activists in the way its 2016 iteration did. Whatever the case, on this occasion, I will be watcher rather than participator; surreptitiously checking in on events from a drab office in Dublin.

  • Notes on DSA Pre-Convention

    Notes on DSA Pre-Convention

    We publish here an account of the discussions taking place in the Democratic Socialists of America, now the largest left organization in the United States with over 50,000 members , as it prepares for its national convention to take place in Atlanta, Georgia in August. We invite our readers to offer other views or to comment on this article. – Editors

    As the Democratic Socialists of America enters the run up to its second national convention since the post-Trump membership boom, organizers are looking to play a more active role in deciding how DSA continues to develop in the future. The first DSA 2019 pre-convention regional conference provided a glimpse into the limited dynamics of the organization’s ideological and infrastructural direction and DSA will need to continuously reflect on them to avoid going down a road of missed opportunities. In sum, the conference reflected the lack of political development within the larger membership, a lack of a cohesive strategy on labor and race, the birth of various political tendencies within its most developed leadership, and a danger of ignoring the larger political events occurring at the border. Yet despite all of this, DSA has indeed reached new levels of maturity, cohesion, and potential.

    Preconvention: What is DSA’s Theory of Change?

    The first of DSA’s regional pre-conventions, covering California and Hawaii, opened informally on Friday with a social hosted by one of the newest caucuses, Socialist Majority. With the success of The Call/Spring caucus’s well-organized efforts to influence the organization, others have taken note and started to build their own centers of power, whether that means forming networks or taking a more concerted effort to build a decentralized organizational vision as is the case for the Libertarian Socialist caucus (LSC). In contrast to what some have described as Spring Caucus’s “centralist tendency” that is interested in a more limited field of political engagement, Socialist Majority seems more devoted to the permissive, generalist DSA in which many of the post-Trump members developed their skills. Although the caucuses differ there, they largely share the same theory of change: make incremental wins, grow DSA, repeat. While this has been challenged by some factions within DSA (see LSC’s Dual Power document and the former Refoundation platform), the democratic road to socialism is still the mainstream political line that orients the majority of the organization.

    Labor and Race: Where is DSA’s Power?

    The first day of the convention began with a panel of DSA members reflecting on the progress of previously agreed upon organizational priorities: the Democratic Socialist Labor Commission, Medicare for All, National Electoral Committee, and College for All. The panelist representing Labor spoke to DSA’s recent successes in supporting worker’s actions, highlighting the recent UTLA strike and ongoing unionization efforts at Anchor Brewing. In his closing remarks, he emphasized the need to see one’s own workplace as a site of struggle and “pick a fight with your boss.” Unfortunately, after his much needed intervention, there was little further elaboration of a national labor strategy and there remain large questions unanswered regarding DSA’s relationship to Labor, a peculiar problem for a socialist organization. The formal relationship of DSA to unions seems to consist of labor solidarity and members understand this to be insufficient. Non-union DSA members must be more actively engaged in conversations about workplace democracy and, more importantly, be given the toolkit to launch campaigns. Without proper grounding, DSA members will not have the orientation to effect the necessary transformation. If DSA cannot develop workplace struggles into class struggles it will not give proper weight to the power that the working class possesses as an agent of revolutionary change.

    The space historically filled by centralizing struggles at the point of production is currently occupied by major tendencies that revealed themselves over the course of the regional strategies breakouts and general trainings that followed the panel. The first is a policy oriented, social movement approach, favored by proponents of Social Housing, Medicare for All, the Green New Deal, and Free College for All. This electorally minded effort maintains a certain skepticism regarding self-organized workers. While workers are seen as capable advocates for their own wellbeing, this orientation believes that change lies in the hands of Congress. Creating a mass movement of various class segments to engage in policy proposals could gain leverage on the Democrats and newly elected democratic socialists, but they will not lead to an energized working-class capable of organizing for itself. They may instead further segment, gentrify, and divide the working-class. The second tendency, the clear victor for framing a housing resolution at the upcoming convention, focuses on struggles at the point of circulation, exemplified by the movement for tenant organizing and establishing tenants unions. The experience organizing in Los Angeles led to many attendees warning chapters to not engage in coalition with landowners, big and small, that largely reflect a petit-bourgeois class that constantly dilutes working class demands.

    This drive to create independent institutions of democratic power can be viewed more broadly as influenced by the framework of “base-building”. Of course, it must be said that while its current elaboration most frequently takes the form of this circulation struggle, the whole of base-building does uphold the importance of the fight for workplace democracy. But does an emphasis on circulation struggles reflect a general feeling of pessimism about the prospect of organized labor in the contemporary, atomized workplace?

    Whether in workplace or circulation struggles, intersectionality and coalition building with POC-led groups remained an ongoing debate at the conference. The contention within DSA around issues of identity has written records and debates, but no one in DSA disagrees that it still has work to do if it is to become as racially diverse as the existing working class.  

    The major tendency regarding race concentrated on representation in leadership and carving out spaces within DSA for underrepresented identities. While it is certainly positive to see these kinds of developments, it is important to return to the material and think about what kind of work DSA can do to earn trust and build power. Focusing solely on safe spaces, representation, and changing names will not avoid essentializing identities, reproducing oppression, and silencing political voices that support identity movements fighting for material demands. That said, a simplistic understanding of solidarity as a tool for immediate material gain cannot suffice. There is no universal worker with a standard set of needs. To homogenize the working class under capitalism is to limit the understanding of the ways in which the system concentrates on oppressed groups. DSA needs to further efforts to establish an understanding of identity that is capable of seeing it as a constitutive element of class struggle, not an illusion of it.

    The debate around race and racism appeared most directly in the discussion on how DSA should engage against the Far Right and Immigration. A significant amount of members believed that the only way to beat the right would be by directly protesting neo-Nazis and, in certain situations, fighting them to intimidate them from pursuing stronger tactics. A second tendency engaged in a strategy to push the labor movement to support policies like Social Housing and Medicare for All that could benefit all immigrants. Both of these positions failed to take seriously rising international migration and the increasing political influence at the national level of racists in business suits. An intervention did occur after a third tendency emphasized that the U.S. labor movement (which includes immigrants) continues to push a patriotic agenda that in certain ways reinforces the need for borders and national security. The U.S. could in fact end up with a single-payer insurance system and social housing alongside a militarized border that effectively continues a two-tier segment which would only increase resentment between U.S. workers. To fight the Right, this third tendency argued, DSA will need to engage in voter enfranchisement campaign on the one hand and, on the other, engage in the Abolish ICE campaign to eliminate an entire unionized sector of DHS. In turn it will open up the political space for refugees currently at the border and migrants already in the U.S. to take a central role in changing the politics of the United States. This tendency presents the clearest line for an intertwined relation between labor and race, but was sadly missing from the larger discussions.

    While there were certainly important skills and strategies discussed over the course of the conference a general feeling brought up afterwards was that some of the conversations could have gone into greater depth. If DSA members do not see themselves as capable of bringing their politics to the workplace, DSA needs to develop them to the point where they feel comfortable taking action. DSA has the potential to act as a connective tissue that allows workers to flex centers of power in concert towards collective goals but to do that DSA must be embedded at the points of struggle, wherever those may be.

    The Bernie 2020 Debate: What are DSA’s Principles?

    At the conference, the debates reflected a lack of political development on the majority of the membership even if a general anti-capitalist sentiment continues to exist. The most important debate, but sadly a missed opportunity, came through the conversation around the almost inevitable 2020 Bernie endorsement. This could have been an opportunity to strategize a variety of political lines on the 2020 presidential elections but it turned into a rather frustrating conversation in which neither of all the four sides really seemed to talk to one another. The first tendency to denounce Bernie Sanders argued against an endorsement primarily around moral terms. Important concerns were raised about Bernie’s position on a couple of topics, notably: his vote for SESTA/FOSTA which has endangered the lives of sex workers, and his Medicare for All proposal which does not meet the standards established by DSA’s own Medicare for All Campaign. There is a strategic rationale arguing that supporting Bernie has the potential to strain DSA’s relationships with particularly marginalized groups. Although there did exist a second framing against an endorsement because of due process, this tendency also fell into a moral argument above the political reality of where the organization currently stands to influence any presidential candidacy. Third, possibly the main position in the organization, was the tendency that DSA must endorse Sanders because he is the only candidate who can defeat Donald Trump and the corporate Democrats while supporting the policies of the Green New Deal, Medicare for All, and Social Housing. Finally, and probably the most accurate depiction of the material conditions reflecting both the limitations of the organization and the external primary debates was a position to endorse Bernie Sanders knowing that he will not win the primary, calling on him to break with the Democratic Party when he loses, and focusing primarily on using Bernie to organize chapters to build a more political developed membership via its long term campaigns. The lack of differentiation on the four tendencies made it seem as if the debate around a Bernie 2020 was a yes or no answer. This led to the conference failing to develop strategies to use throughout 2019 and 2020.

    DSA must take seriously the opportunity presented by the Bernie campaign. The potential to draw in greater unorganized masses is too important to ignore. That said, it is important that DSA understand that the campaign in and of itself is not a mass anti-capitalist movement and participation in it cannot be the end of its work. Without a greater plan of action for how DSA can engage in a productive manner, its role is that of opportunists, moving the organization right to absorb larger numbers instead of moving the people left. Further, DSA must put forward a vision that does not discount the mistrust that a section of the working class holds towards American political institutions and their figureheads. Without convictions that form the bedrock of DSA’s long term goal, it is vulnerable to capitulation and limits the range of people who will respond to its message.

    Both sides of the debate tacitly admit that the left holds little influence among the people. On the side for, this translates to a substitution of active organizing for the spectacle of a presidential campaign. On the side against, it’s a pessimism that DSA cannot properly articulate a difference from the candidate, and any engagement would see us overrun by him. DSA cannot give up the fight before it has even begun. DSA has no choice but to organize people where they are and move them towards a socialist future.

    Regional Strategies: What is DSA’s Structure?

    Over the lead up to the pre-convention there was some pushback on the way that the agenda had been set, with a group of members proposing their own version. That member resistance crossed over onto the floor the day of the debates with speakers questioning how the topics were chosen and why there was not a more democratic process. This is reminiscent of the popular debate around structure that has been ongoing in DSA, often talked about as focusing on strong locals vs. a strong national. It presents a slightly misleading dichotomy that necessarily frames different parts of the organization as inherently antagonistic. Part of the issue in the organization as it stands is that there is little infrastructure between the groups. Locals feel as though national is imposing their will and doesn’t give a fair listen to members. If DSA is to act as a powerful force, it seems necessary to create a unified body that is capable of acting beyond localized struggles. DSA needs to move from a large network of activists into a party model organization. DSA requires a strong national presence, but the question of how it is built cannot be overlooked.

    Relevant to this was the last conversation on Sunday that focused on building regional connections and on the Green New Deal. DSA’s relative weakness in the rural areas and lack of support for smaller chapters was a focal point. The larger coastal cities hold a set of resources in institutional knowledge and labor power that smaller chapters cannot access. Expanding the organization means gardening and caring for the plants everywhere and luckily there does seem to be a growing trust within chapters as well as an opportunity to form relationships with DSA members across California and Hawaii via proper channels of communication.

    While all attendees agreed that DSA needed to support a Green New Deal, there was no real strategy of what DSA should do in the larger climate justice movement. At a high level there is a question of whether it is even possible to influence a movement that is objectively on a route toward green capitalism as a result of the ruling classes internally at war on how to get out of the global situation created by the capitalist world-system. A comrade from Los Angeles proposed that DSA focus on immediate local work capable of scaling up to the Green New Deal should the opportunity present itself. This reminder to root DSA in the issues rather than the policies offered more fertile starting ground for its regional work.

    Building effective regional networks has great potential to grow DSA’s ability to make change as well as helping level the distribution of power and aid communication between locals and national. Without further access to each other, DSA cannot begin to clarify its political lines and adequately address the experiences and lessons gleaned from its organizing tactics. It’s a pressing topic that the upcoming convention should debate.

    Moving Forward

    It is clear that two tendencies shaped the clearest political lines at the regional conference, one emphasizing base-building and the other emphasizing mass support for national policies. These two tendencies were largely reflected in the two largest chapters in California with Los Angeles emphasizing an organizing project and East Bay focused on electoral projects. The San Francisco chapter, however, presents a strong connection between both lines as seen in the Anchor Steam campaign and the passage of Measure C. DSA must figure out how to negotiate long and short term goals, how to navigate the need for expediency and that for inclusivity. Without a theory of change and a firm set of principles, the movement risks either being cast adrift, responding to whatever challenge comes its way, or isolated and irrelevant, unable to muster the power necessary for true change. Once DSA can firmly grasp its lines, we can begin to build the strategies and structures necessary to carry out its plans. We need to develop a culture that is capable of bringing decision making past a level of “winner take all” and use the power of critique to improve the work of its members.

    First, a national strategy on labor that is able to expand the the field of contestation beyond the narrow idea that struggle in the workplace is strictly the purview of existing unions (without, of course, under emphasizing their usefulness) would suit DSA in the contemporary American landscape. Second, an understanding of the border as greater than the result of actions within the US and rather part of the broader world-system will provide a more useful lens of analysis and impel DSA members to build out the much needed bonds of solidarity with the international working class. To achieve these goals, the organization will need to create a regional infrastructure that is capable of shortening the distance between national and locals and ensuring that there is a development of membership and leaders.

    While DSA seems to be heading in a more explicitly social democratic route, there is also a growing question of whether a democratic road to socialism can truly exist or if there will come a time when the organization will finally embrace a rupture, in all its messiness, away from the transitional reforms of capitalism. Will DSA prioritize legislative victories or engage in a long term organizing plan to restructure itself  to function as a third party model, enter into communities of color, and engage in a more nuanced labor strategy? In 2017, the organization took bold steps to shake free from some of its historical constraints. How it decides to act positively with this newfound freedom is yet to be seen. Once again, the question that has dogged the movement rears its head. How will DSA answer it? It seems like the membership is still deciding these questions.

  • Can the “Green New Deal” Save the Planet?

    Can the “Green New Deal” Save the Planet?

    It is never comfortable to give up long-held beliefs and connections, but the impending climate crisis makes that a burning necessity. And the fact that, scientifically, it’s possible to avoid the worst of this climate disaster gives a positive incentive to do so. (more…)

  • Profile of a Self-Exiled Nicaraguan News Presenter

    Profile of a Self-Exiled Nicaraguan News Presenter

    When Nicaraguan president Daniel Ortega announced coming changes to his country’s social security system on April 18 of last year, small-scale protests in Managua against the government’s response to a wildfire in the Indio Maiz Biological Reserve had been ongoing for several days. Ortega’s timing, to put it mildly, was poor. On the day on his announcement, thousands of Nicaraguans joined the wildfire protests to voice their opposition to the social security modifications, and what had started as a limited response to a relatively minor issue became—within hours—a countrywide movement that would upend Nicaragua.

    Ricardo Zambrana, at the time a producer and anchor of a popular morning news show filmed in Managua, watched this first day of bolstered protests unfold with a sense of familiarity. Protests aren’t uncommon in Nicaragua, and just five years before people had also marched to oppose changes to the social security system. But—although he’d usually supported any given protest’s aims—Ricardo, 34, had never been meaningfully involved in any of the prior movements.

    “I have to admit that, like many Nicaraguans, I’d avoided protesting because I recognized the relative stability of our situation. This same stability meant that the people who protested were viewed poorly, or simply ignored. And I’d learned to live with that.”

    On Thursday, April 19, Ricardo and his team followed their usual routine and broadcast another episode of Primera Hora. Later that day, with the movement growing and becoming increasingly frenzied, two protesters and one policeman were killed. They were the first deaths to come out of the movement, and on Friday, out of respect for the dead, Ricardo asked for and received permission not to go on air.

    The protests went on gathering strength, and by Saturday night the number of dead had risen to at least 10, with some sources putting it as high as 25. As the weekend progressed, Ricardo became convinced that he had to do something. Continuing the blackout policy from Friday, no episode of Primera Hora was broadcast on Monday, but Ricardo and his co-workers decided to go a step further and put out a press release via their social media accounts denouncing the government’s actions.

    Several days later, Ricardo went further still.

    “Seeing the number of atrocities and murders and, above all, the number of lies my own network was putting out—smearing the students as criminals and vandals, finding any possible reason to delegitimize the protests, and not showing a modicum of respect for the families of the murdered—I, along with a colleague who also a presenter, resigned.”

    The most significant period of social upheaval in Nicaragua since the 1980’s had just begun, and Ricardo was suddenly jobless.

    ***

    While the social security proposals—which included an increase in taxes and a decrease in benefits—were the catalyst for the protests that broke out last April, their rapid growth and the anger underlying them can be ascribed to the string of authoritarian measures undertaken by Daniel Ortega throughout his time as president. Ortega came to national prominence in the 1970s as a leader within the Sandinista guerilla movement, which overthrew Anastasio Somoza’s American-backed dictatorship in 1979. Ortega became president in 1985 but would go on to lose in his 1990 reelection campaign to Violeta Barrios de Chamorro.

    He was reelected 16 years later with a 36% plurality and soon abandoned the left-wing ideology of the Sandinistas for a more business-friendly form of governance. “When Ortega won the elections back in November 2006,” says Ricardo, “people were more than willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, so he could prove that he wasn’t going to try and usurp his powers and that he wasn’t going to damage our institutionality.”

    Early on, however, Ortega showed a propensity for authoritarianism, and in 2009, a pro-Ortega Supreme Court did away with the country’s single presidential term limit, opening the way for Ortega’s reelection in 2011 and 2016. Throughout his three consecutive terms as president, Ortega has been credibly accused of various abuses of power, including human rights violations, kleptocracy, and electoral manipulation. A target of particular ire within Nicaragua is Ortega’s wife, Rosario Murillo, who became his vice-president at the beginning of his most recent term and symbolizes for many the administration’s nepotism and corruption.

    By 2018, the Nicaraguan people had accumulated more than a decade’s worth of grievances towards Ortega and Murillo. As Ricardo sees it, it was only a matter of time before the country reached a breaking point.

    “It’s like you’re living next to an active volcano, and you just live your life without thinking too much about it, because you know if the day comes when there’s an eruption, everything you know could be destroyed. We all lived like that, knowing we were on dangerous soil, but trying to ignore it so we could have some ‘peace.’”

    ***

    After his resignation, Ricardo began using his status as a public figure and his large social media followings to speak out against the government. On Facebook and Twitter, Ricardo would post reports, breaking stories, and his own opinions. At this point in the movement, there was a lot to post. People were dying daily, and there was continuous debate over how to best resolve the conflict.

    By early June, more than a hundred people had been killed and unrest had spread throughout the country. Meanwhile, the Nicaraguan business community—once considered a bastion of support for Ortega—had turned on the president and come out in support of early elections.

    With tensions so high, Ricardo was well aware of the risks he was running with his outspoken criticism of Ortega.

    “Being a public figure makes you an easy target, and I knew there’d be many, many people I didn’t know directing their hatred towards me, threatening me, and all the rest. But you think of the sacrifices that others have made—the students that can’t study anymore, the families that have lost their children, the small business owners that have lost everything—and any small sacrifice that I’ve made pales in comparison.”

    By July, after months of government repression, the movement had begun to weaken. Halfway through the month, pro-Ortega troops took the Monimbó district in Masaya, one of the last opposition holdouts. The death toll by then was well over 300.

    Although the movement’s presence on the streets had been greatly diminished, Ricardo continued to put out opinions and news through social media—and he continued to receive threats for doing so. Indeed, perhaps encouraged by Ortega’s success against the movement, the people threatening Ricardo began to send increasingly disturbing messages. His girlfriend was often mentioned, and the threats became graphic and more detailed. By August, Ricardo no longer felt safe in his home country and decided it would best to leave.

    “There came a point when I knew that even if I wasn’t attacked, it was still possible for me to end up in prison for some ridiculous, invented reason. The Ortega supporter’s philosophy is that any member of the opposition deserves jailtime for ‘promoting terrorism, hate, and death.’”

    After considering his options, Ricardo decided on Campeche, a small Mexican city on the Yucatan Peninsula. His girlfriend was eventually able to join him, and the two of them are still there, living off money Ricardo made from several consulting jobs he was able find in Nicaragua after resigning from his broadcasting job.

    He follows developments in Nicaragua closely and continues do whatever he can to support the opposition.

    ***

    Ricardo’s case isn’t unique. Some 40,000 Nicaraguans left the country last year, and for Ricardo and his exiled compatriots, the future is filled with uncertainty. “It’s unbelievable how difficult it is to plan for the coming month in our situation,” says Ricardo. “And that’s without even mentioning the next six or 12 months.”

    Though what happens in 2019 is anyone’s guess, the Ortega-Murillo government’s credibility has weakened considerably and is showing signs of collapse. Ortega has few allies among Nicaragua’s business and religious leaders, and his regional support is limited to Cuba and Venezuela. Moreover, the movement against Ortega has had a catastrophic impact on the Nicaraguan economy. One report claims that Nicaragua’s annual GDP growth fell from 5% in 2017 to -4% in 2018, and between April 18 and October 31, one billion 371 million dollars were taken out of the country’s financial system.

    New elections aren’t planned until 2021, and many observers think it’s virtually impossible for Ortega to hold on to power that long.

    Ricardo agrees with this assessment.

    “Their [Ortega’s and Murillo’s] fall is indeed inevitable. And I think they both know it. But while they have the money, the power, and the weapons, they’ll act like any other shipwreck survivor and cling to whatever piece of flotsam that keeps them above water. Although they can see that everything around them is sinking, they don’t care how many people suffer as long as they stay in power.”

    He adds: “But Nicaragua’s eyes are wide open now. The citizens have lost their fear, and Ortega has lost the citizens.”

  • Oakland teachers’ strike: Balance sheet, lessons, and what next?

    Oakland teachers’ strike: Balance sheet, lessons, and what next?

    Editor’s note: The Oakland teachers’ strike was arguably a watershed in resistance to neoliberal education reforms.  In one regard Oakland teachers’ demands echo those in this year’s teacher strike wave,  a growing social movement led by teachers, with massive support of parents and community, to save public schools from reforms pushed by both Democrats and Republicans.

    Yet Press briefings by the Oakland Education Association (OEA) and a remarkable website created by a community supporter, show an extraordinary shift: an  explicit yet seamless fusion of  attention to social oppression, race and gender, with labor’s mission to defend the dignity of work and workers. “It’s really, really exciting – a movement that is connecting the dots” observed Pauline Lipman, whose research on the racial significance of neoliberal school reform in Chicago helped inform the Chicago Teachers Union 2012 program, the widely-adopted template for teacher union demands, “The schools Chicago students deserve.”

    In this article, Jack Gerson, retired Oakland teacher and former executive board and bargaining team member, analyzes what occurred and why in the Oakland strike.

    On Friday March 1, 2019 the bargaining teams of the Oakland school district (OUSD) and the Oakland teachers union (OEA) reached a tentative agreement that received a mixed reception by OEA members. Yesterday (March 3), after several hours of heated debate, OEA members voted to ratify the agreement, 1141 to 832, or 58% for, 42% against. That’s an unusually big “no” vote on a contract recommended by a union leadership which had just organized a spirited strike that shut down Oakland schools for seven school days. At cluster meetings and at OEA’s Representative Council (delegate assembly) on Saturday (March 2), bitter accusations were made by teachers who thought the agreement was far less than the union could win by continuing to strike.

    Why this division? Despite the union leadership hailing the agreement as “historic”, it is far from that. There were several complaints:

    OEA had demanded no school closures (earlier this year, OUSD announced plans to close 15 schools and consolidate nine others).  The OEA leadership said this was a critical demand. But in the tentative agreement, they settled for a 5 month “pause” in school closures. That’s not worth much: the pause will end at the beginning of August, in time for OUSD to close schools before next school year starts. It will be much harder to fight those school closures in the summer, with teachers and students on vacation, than it is right now during the strike. And if the schools are closed, we can expect the available school properties to be disposed of: some to charter schools, some to real estate speculators who will drive housing costs still higher — more teachers leaving Oakland, more homelessness. Many teachers spoke out against the “pause.”

    School nurses said that their overwhelming need was for OUSD to lower their workload and hire more nurses. But the tentative agreement provided no change in nurses’ workload – just cash bonuses which the nurses had repeatedly told the union’s bargaining team they didn’t want to settle. Several nurses told the Saturday meetings that “We were thrown under the bus.”

    OEA had demanded a reduction of maximum counselor workload to 250 students (From the current 600). But they agreed to 550 next year and 500 the following year. Every little bit helps, but this will only help a little bit.

    OEA had demanded a reduction of class size maximums by 4 per class in high needs schools (about half of Oakland schools) and by 2 elsewhere. But in the tentative agreement, they settled for 2 in high-needs schools and 1 elsewhere, phased in over three years — better than nothing, but far less than what’s needed, as many teachers said.

    OEA had demanded a 12% pay increase over three years: 3% retroactive to the start of the 2017-8 school year, another 4% retroactive to the start of the 2018-9 school year, and another 5% for the 2019-20 school year. But they agreed to 11% over four plus years, starting January 1, 2019. And since the last 2.5% increase won’t take effect until the last day of year 4, it’s essentially an increase for the following year – so this is 11% over five years, or 2.2% per year, well below the cost of living increases. The original demands were meager enough: Oakland teachers are the lowest paid in Alameda County, an area where housing costs and overall cost of living are among the highest in the country. The proposed increases in the tentative agreement will be less than inflation, which will do nothing to help young teachers to make ends meet, and so the exodus of teachers out of Oakland will continue.

    OEA had made solidarity with other school worker unions a main theme. Indeed, on Friday OEA called for a picket with community members and SEIU Local 1021 (representing OUSD classified workers) to block the school board from meeting and adopting a budget which would cut over 140 jobs, mainly of SEIU members. But at about 2pm, OEA President Keith Brown told the pickets “We have a TA! We Won!” and urged them to disperse. The optics of this are very bad and were not lost on SEIU members. One wrote on Facebook: “As a SEIU member who has been picketing in the rain or shine for the past seven strike days, I feel betrayed. I feel used…  I thought our collective goal Friday was to shut down the Board Meeting.”

    Fortunately, several hundred OEA members ignored the leadership’s request and stayed to picket with SEIU and community until after 6pm, when the school board meeting was cancelled. It’s critical to not let the school board play divide and conquer, pretending that they have to cut SEIU workers and student support programs to pay for the OEA contract. The attempt to disperse the pickets on Friday played into the school board’s hands. That needs to be corrected. It’s important that OEA leadership make clear that it unambiguously stands with all OUSD workers and stands fully in solidarity and support with them. Those cuts need not happen: much of the money is already there, and more can be found by cutting down on OUSD’s outrageous shoveling of revenue to private contracts and to redundant and overpaid top administrators.

    On Monday, March 4,  hundreds of students and several teachers called in sick to protest at an emergency school board meeting called during school hours to try to minimize student and school worker presence. Despite impassioned speeches from scores of students and several teachers and other school workers, and over the protest of virtually all of those present, the school board voted to make $22 million in cuts: to school libraries; to restorative justice programs; to the Asian Pacific Islander support program; to the foster youth program; and to lay off well over 100 classified school workers.

    On balance: It’s important to acknowledge that Keith Brown and his team were able to lead a spirited strike supported and carried out by over 90% of OEA members. In contrast, OEA’s punishing 27-day strike in 1996 was beset by divisions within the union and within the community, as some charged that it deprived black students of essential schooling. None of that this time – the union was unified throughout the strike, and it had substantial support from students, parents, and community.

    And it’s not helpful to characterize the contract as “a sellout”, nor to say that the bargaining team or the officers are “sellouts.” I believe them when they say that they’re convinced that this was the best deal that could be had at this time. I believe them, but I don’t agree with them. Why not?

    First, I think that the leadership was heavily influenced by their state parent, the California Teacher Association (CTA). CTA is overly legalistic and cautious, and it is closely tied to the state Democratic Party. Under CTA’s influence, the leadership team was far less transparent during the strike than it should have been. Decisions were made by a small group consisting largely of OEA’s officers and CTA staffers, with some union executive board members telling me that even the executive board was out of the loop. One lesson is more transparency is needed, and especially needed is an elected strike committee to work directly with the officers, the executive board and, as often as possible, Rep Council and picket captains.

    Second, and related, I think that there was a reluctance to aggressively confront corporate targets physically with militant actions. To overcome the intransigence of the corporate-funded and controlled school board, it’s necessary to convince corporate Oakland that the union is prepared to see that there’s no business as usual.  Hesitancy to do that was evident in the reluctance of the OEA leadership to vigorously pursue a proposal to rally and picket at the Port of Oakland, which could and should have occurred several days ago and would have had the support of dockworkers (ILWU Local 34 had already voted its support). Instead, CTA staff and OEA officers expressed fears that the union would be legally liable if it picketed at the Port (it wouldn’t: the park and roads at the port are public property, picketing there is legal and that right has been exercised numerous times, including more than once by OEA). Finally, last Thursday (February 28), Rep Council voted overwhelmingly to picket at the Port on March 5 (tomorrow). It’s no accident that OUSD improved its offer and rushed to settle when they did: one big reason was to preempt the port action. Had OEA not settled on Friday, and especially if it followed the Port action with militant rallies and sit-ins aimed at the big real estate and financial interests in downtown Oakland, I think that the corporate masters would have told state and city politicians to cough up some money, and told their school board puppets to settle up.

    The union leadership repeatedly credited OEA’s militant and spirited picket lines and mass rallies with what they proclaim as an historic win. But then they turned around and said that the meager tentative agreement is “the best that can be won at this time” because, they claimed, support was beginning to ebb. I saw little evidence of that: Thousands of teachers turned out to picket, march and rally on rainy days all week. I think that there’s another reason: The union leadership is for the most part close to liberal Democrats like state superintendent of schools Tony Thurmond, who stepped in late this week to mediate the dispute and broker the deal. Thurmond and other Democrats represent corporate interests and the state, both of which wanted an end to this disruptive strike. I am sure that they pressed the OEA leadership directly as well as indirectly (through their influence with community activists and with CTA, OEA’s statewide parent union).

    It’s important to move forward now: to do what wasn’t done during the strike – a complete end to the school closures; a full moratorium on charter school growth; restore all the cut programs and all the jobs that were cut; take the spirit that dominated the strike and rekindle it into a militant movement that confronts corporate Oakland – at the Port, in the City Center, at all the seats of corporate power. Confront them, and demand that the priorities be set straight: Adequate funding for quality public education and for essential social services, not for privatization and corporate profit.

    [Editor’s note: Kitty Kelly Epstein responds to Jack Gerson’s analysis here.]

  • Venezuela on the Brink

    Venezuela on the Brink

    The troops gathering on the borders between Venezuela and Brazil and Colombia are no less threatening to Venezuela because they claim to be protecting a ‘humanitarian convoy’. And Richard Branson’s concert simply provides another cover to conceal the real purposes behind this so-called aid. Donald Trump, and his neoconservative aides John Bolton and Mike Pompeo, have no concern for the welfare of Venezuela’s people – any more than their predecessors did in Libya, Rwanda and countless other examples of fraudulent mercy missions that were concerned only with a search for power and control. How credible can this operation to ‘rescue’ Venezuela be when it coincides with a demand to spend six billion dollars on a wall to deter impoverished immigrants from travelling north in search of work?

    The crisis in Venezuela is real – despite Nicolás Maduro’s hypocritical insistence that everyone in Venezuela has food and medicine to meet their needs. But the purpose of this military operation is not to address the crisis – beyond a few photo ops of lorries full of supplies. It is to use the crisis to regain control of the country’s huge mineral resources. Venezuela, we should remember, has the world’s largest untapped oil reserves, not to mention untold mineral, gas, water, diamond and other undeveloped resources. Venezuela’s oil was taken back into state ownership by Hugo Chávez in 2005, seven years after he was elected to the presidency in 1998. Something like half a million barrels a day were and still are sold to the United States by the Venezuelan state oil corporation PDVSA via US subsidiary Citgo. Trump’s sanctions are now withholding that revenue.

    The potential wealth that lies beneath Venezuela’s surface is the prize that Trump and his special friends in the multinational energy sector are seeking. The weaknesses of the Venezuelan state offered an opportunity to recover that profitable investment – and the promise of Juan Guaidó is that he will deliver it. The central plank of Hugo Chávez’s Bolivarian revolution was to reclaim oil revenues for the state and spend them for the benefit of the majority. That enraged the bureaucracy of a Venezuelan state that had shared those profits among themselves while the lion’s share returned to the home base of the multinational corporations who extracted, refined and sold it. Washington’s hostility to Chávez began when Chávez ended that comfortable 40-year arrangement.

    There are other purposes behind Trump’s intervention. One is political – to finally crush the spirit that brought progressive governments to power in Latin America during the ‘pink tide’ of the early 21st century, and thus to reinforce the reactionary wave that has taken power in Chile , Argentina, Colombia and particularly in Brazil with the advent of the neo-fascist Bolsonaro.

    The other objective, barely mentioned in the current reporting, is imperialist rivalry. Once, in the nostalgic dream conjured up Trump’s ‘Make America Great Again’ rhetoric, Latin America was the US’s ‘backyard’, its wealth feeding the economic growth of the US at the expense of the populations of the southern republics. Today, the US is not the only vulture hovering over those resources. Over the last 20 years, China has become a major investor and provider of loans to Latin America and especially the pink tide governments. Its total investment in Venezuela is worth $60 billion; the loans, principally for the construction of public housing, are repaid in oil. Chinese multinationals are also investing in extractive industries, oil and mining under extremely favourable conditions. Russia, too, has seen Venezuela as a staging post in its expansion plans in the region. It is not only heavily investing there; it is also providing arms to Venezuela through a recent Military Assistance Agreement. Imperialism is the enemy of the Venezuelan people – but it speaks a number of languages. In addition to its other troubles, Venezuela is now also an arena for inter-imperialist competition. What all the powers involved have in common is a strategy for the exploitation of Venezuela’s resources and those of Latin America more generally; none of them have any humanitarian aims.

    Appearance and reality

    In the confrontation between two presidential claimants, Guaidó and Maduro, neither represents the interests of the mass of Venezuelans.

    Juan Guaidó was a virtually unknown Venezuelan politician until 23 January this year. He is the President (or Speaker) of the National Assembly – a post which, by mutual agreement, rotates between the various right-wing parties that together hold a majority in the Assembly. It is not a directly elected post – though that is never mentioned in reports about him. He is also a member of Voluntad Popular (People’s Will), the furthest right of the parties of the opposition coalition ill-named the Forum of Democratic Unity (MUD) – its members are unable to agree on anything beyond their opposition to Maduro.  Curiously, Voluntad Popular claims to belong to the Socialist International, which led some in the Labour Party to describe it as ‘a sister organisation’. In reality, it is not a social democratic organisation, but a reactionary grouping that backed the violent street barricades that erupted onto the streets of Venezuela between 2014 and 2018, leaving a toll of destruction and death. It is also the party with the closest links to Washington. Its founder and leader Leopoldo López has been in detention for the last four years, but his wife was a frequent visitor to both Obama’s and Trump’s White House, as well as touring right-wing European parties. One consequence of Guaidó’s sudden prominence will be to add weight to Voluntad Popular’s claim to head an opposition in which it has been a minority force until now.

    The current National Assembly was elected in December 2015 with 63% of the popular vote. The result was wholly unexpected by the Maduro regime. It was all the more significant because the result did not reflect a rightward shift, but the abstention of two million chavista supporters. It was a protest against the gathering crisis and, as is now clear, a prelude to the devastating current situation. At that time there were already shortages of basic goods, a crisis in the health service and  declining production, as well as huge price rises. Maduro had won the presidential election in April 2013 after Chávez’s death, but with a majority of less than 1% over his right-wing opponent, Henrique Capriles. While the loyalty to Chávez was undeniable among the majority of the population, Maduro’s relentless exploitation of his predecessor’s popularity (he ran and reran Chávez’s speeches throughout the campaign and claimed the dead president sat on his shoulders) did not enable him to repeat Chávez’s 60% majority in the ballot. The Assembly vote came just two years later and marked a further decline in his support. The explanation lay not only in the deepening economic crisis, about which he did nothing at all, but also in the character of his regime, which was becoming increasingly centralised, authoritarian and corrupt, and in which the military were playing an increasing role. The state political organisation – the United Socialist Party of Venezuela (PSUV) – acted as an instrument of power, distributing rewards, jobs and favours in exchange for loyalty on the one hand, and acting to control and contain local discontents on the other.

    The roots of the Maduro state, however, lay in the Chávez period. In 2006, having won his second presidential election by an increased majority, Chávez announced on his weekly television programme the creation of a new party – the PSUV. It would be, he promised, a mass socialist party, democratic in its structures and accountable to its membership. Nearly six million joined in a matter of weeks. Yet what emerged was not a party fulfilling the promise enshrined in the 1999 Bolivarian Constitution of Venezuela, which asserted that the new Bolivarian Republic would be a participatory republic in which the people would be the subjects of the process (‘democracia participativa y protagonista’). Within weeks it became clear that it was a party modelled on Cuba’s Communist Party, which was anything but democratic or participatory. It was a highly centralised, top-down structure, in which the role of the grass roots was simply to acclaim and carry out decisions taken by the leadership.

    Chávez’s last document was his Economic Plan for 2013-19 (the‘Plan de la Patria’). In his preface Chávez acknowledged that he had failed to transform the notoriously corrupt Venezuelan state or advance his much proclaimed ‘socialism of the 21st century’. His governments had not undermined the bourgeoisie nor broken its mechanism of power – the state. It was now time, he argued, to ‘pulverise the bourgeoisie’ (his words) and carry out a ‘golpe de timón’ (a ‘turning of the tiller’ of Venezuelan politics in a new direction). In fact, what had happened was that far from state and public institutions becoming subject to control from below, and the system of clientelism and patronage being replaced by accountable institutions, the creation of the PSUV had had the opposite effect. The mass organisations were brought under centralised control and absorbed into the state. The massive state budget and the high oil revenues coming into the country up to 2012 while oil prices remained high produced a new bureaucracy, which claimed socialist credentials and used revolutionary rhetoric, while in reality enriching itself, embezzling state funds, and building a state apparatus to protect its own interests. Many chavista leaders, a majority of whom came from working-class and lower middle-class backgrounds, became very rich very quickly. Chávez’s death and Maduro’s election gave them control of the chavista state. The many dedicated, committed socialists who gave their time and energy to carrying the chavista  ‘process’ forward were increasingly marginalised and silenced.

    When the right wing won the National Assembly elections in 2015, Maduro’s reaction was immediate. He declared a state of emergency and ruled through presidential decrees (‘leyes habilitantes’), bypassing the Assembly from then on. The right wing’s only demands were the removal of Maduro and the release of Leopoldo López – their only other policy was, in line with Maduro’s own ambitions, to increase oil production.

    The state under Maduro

    In his public appearances Maduro always appears surrounded by the military. It is an accurate reflection of the nature of the state he heads. The discourse he uses is full of references to revolution and socialism, and denunciations of imperialism. He still claims the mantle of Chávez, whose promise was to challenge neoliberalism, throw off the chains of dependency, and diversify the economy – using oil revenues to develop domestic industry as well as to create the foundations of a welfare state. His victory challenged a forty-year regime, based on corruption, which had commonly responded with violence to any challenge to its power.

    In 2005, Chávez announced the implementation of ‘21st-century socialism’ in Venezuela. In the aftermath of an attempted coup in April 2002, which failed because of the mass mobilisation of poor and working-class Venezuelans in support of him, the Bolivarian revolution moved in a more radical direction, redistributing oil revenues through social programmes and nationalising some enterprises (their owners were paid compensation) but also supporting organs of power at the grassroots. The creation of the PSUV in 2006 claimed to continue and deepen that process, but the reality was that it represented the opposite of participatory democracy. It was a command structure – ideally suited as it proved to Maduro’s strategy. The new state bureaucracy constituted itself as a ruling class, whose political instrument was the PSUV, a top-down structure that distributed favours and fragments of power, and a great deal of money, in return for loyalty. The 2015 election result was a warning from the mass social base of chavismo; the response was to strengthen the mechanisms of control and repression, and to concentrate both political and economic power in the hands of the ruling elite.

    This new layer – the ‘Boliburguesía’ as it came to be called – colluded with the Venezuelan capitalist class, while denouncing it in its public rhetoric. The stand-off with the Assembly after 2015 did not affect the currency speculation both groups were massively engaged in; it did not prevent the pillaging of PDVSA as the public sector descended into a spectacular decline. The street barricades continued, it is true; but so too did the meetings between Maduro and leading members of the capitalist class, including the wealthiest of them all, Lorenzo Mendoza of the Polar Corporation. As the oil price fell, and with it the country’s export income, rising inflation – soon to become hyperinflation – affected the majority. Dollars could buy anything – bolivars bought less and less. Goods disappeared from the shops for long periods. Food, building materials, car parts, the absent medicines and drugs reappeared on a black market. The profits were enormous and unaccountable. The main pharmacy chain in Venezuela Farmatodo, for example, was owned by a leading chavista; The shelves in its Venezuelan branches were empty. But as I discovered on a visit to Bogotá, their branches in Colombia had every form of medication freely available. That was just one of many examples.

    Yet neither the National Assembly nor Maduro did anything to address the deepening crisis that Venezuelans were facing. No genuine price controls, no attempt to stem the haemorrhage of funds through the exchange system, no anti-corruption measures that were anything other than rhetoric. As the formal economy ceased to exist, corruption oiled the wheels of the black market economy. Loans to the state, whether from China or other external sources, disappeared without trace; public spending contracts generated huge ‘commissions’ – or bribes as we might call them – which could involve anything up to 40% of the total. One fund – Fonden – for housebuilding was financed by China, but published no accounts of its spending; there were some fifty others that operated in the same secret way. Odebrecht, the Brazilian engineering firm that spent $1.3 billion in bribes across the region before it was exposed, was one of the main infrastructure contractors in Venezuela as well as Cuba.

    In 2016, the direction that Maduro was taking became startlingly clear, when he announced the Arco Minero project. The Arco Minero covers the Orinoco River Basin and surrounding area, and includes part of the Amazon Basin. It is roughly the size of Cuba, and covers 12% of Venezuela’s surface area. It is astonishingly rich in oil and minerals including gold, copper, antimony, diamonds, uranium. It is the main source of the country’s fresh water. It is also home to a number of indigenous communities whose rights are recognised and protected by the Bolivarian Constitution. Venezuela’s immense oil reserves are there, but the mineral resources have not been exploited. The mining that did go on there before now was small-scale and artisanal; working conditions were appalling and life was very cheap. Chávez had previously discussed a plan for the region’s development after the Canadian multinational Gold Reserve[1]was expelled from the region, but abandoned it. In his 2016 speech Maduro announced that 150 multinational companies (from various countries) had been invited to develop the region’s resources with a promise of long-term tax relief and the construction of infrastructure at the state’s expense. The Canadian corporation was invited back and its disputed demand for compensation agreed.

    At the same time, it was announced that constitutional guarantees would be suspended and the region placed under military control. Chávez had rejected the plan precisely because of its constitutional implications and the environmental damage that would follow the renewal of mining, and particularly gold mining whose use of mercury had already poisoned so much of the Amazon basin. Maduro now returned to it. He announced at the same time the creation of Cominpeg, a company to be run by the military out of the Ministry of Defence – but independent of state control. It would be given control of Venezuela’s mineral resources and parts of PDVSA.  There were protests from many quarters, from leading chavistas and trade unionists on the one hand, and indigenous communities and environmental groups on the other. Maduro’s response was the state of emergency in the area and the tightening of military control. The expulsion of local communities began within weeks.

    The significance of this decision was profound. In my view it signalled the reversal of the Bolivarian process. However flawed and unclear it might have been, Chávez’s strategy had remained committed to state control of resources and the socialisation of the profits from their exploitation. The Arco Minero project marked the abandonment of that strategy and the privatisation of the nation’s extractive industries. It represented the reversal of Chávez’s strategy, and a return to dependency on the global market. The political consequences removed any lingering doubt. Half of Maduro’s cabinet now came from the military, as did most of the state governors elected in 2017 after a postponed election. The new ruling class Maduro led now directly controlled many key resources and their growing wealth from graft and corruption merged political and economic power. Their instruments were patronage and corruption, the PSUV – and repression.

    The deepening economic crisis was blamed on an ‘economic war’. Temporary schemes to hide the crisis included corruption commissions that did nothing, and the CLAPS (Local Committees for Supply and Production), a scheme to deliver basic food parcels to poor districts. These were administered through the PSUV; non-members received nothing, and even those who were eligible were often asked to pay, or found their parcels plundered, when and if they arrived at all. The food parcels simply entered the circuit of corruption. The creation of a ‘Carnet de la Patria’ (National Card) meant, in effect, a loyalty card to the regime. Without it, citizens could not collect any social benefits. Thus the million or so state employees, plus PSUV members and activists, could be relied upon to cheer Maduro to the rooftops at rallies and televised events. Repression, on the other hand, was represented by the cynically named Organisations of Popular Liberation (OLPs) who conducted ‘anti-drug trafficking operations’ in the poor areas. The death toll of young men rose dramatically – but the trafficking continued. In reality the state was running interventions favouring some traffickers over others. The OLPs have now been replaced with a more honestly named force, the FAES (Special Forces), who today are leading the controls at the borders.

    I watched footage from the bridge between San Cristóbal and Cucuta in Colombia, where the US has marshalled the trucks carrying its ‘aid’. It is blockaded by armed Venezuelan troops. I couldn’t help but remember the information I had been given a year or two earlier about the number of Venezuelan army lorries passing across the same bridge day after day carrying contraband into Colombia.

    Whose crisis is it?

    Maduro has denied that there is a crisis in Venezuela in his television interviews for the BBC and Spain’s La Sexta channel. The crisis is real, the hunger is deepening and the lack of medicines has had consequences we can only imagine, though we know that infant mortality is rising and that malaria, a disease once eliminated, has returned to Venezuela. The government ceased to publish any data in 2013.[2]

    What are the real dimensions of the crisis? Inflation is set to pass the one million percent mark this year. To translate that into real terms, it means that a monthly wage will buy a tray of eggs, or a packet of disposable nappies (if either can be found). According to the World Health Organisation 61% of the population went hungry in 2017 and Venezuelans suffered an average weight loss of 11 kilos. And that was in 2017. At the same time, industrial production and GDP declined by 45% for 2013-18. Their products were replaced (if at all) by imports, which meant yet another bonanza for importers who bought their dollars from the Central Bank at a low official rate of exchange and then charged for their goods in bolivars at a black market exchange rate a hundred or even a thousand times higher. At the same time, oil production was falling below two million barrels a day, largely due to corruption, mismanagement and lack of maintenance of facilities. The pickings were huge.

    The bourgeoisie gathered around Guaidó may claim to have an alternative to offer. But their only demand is for the state to return to their control. Under Chávez and under Maduro they have disinvested from production to invest in the currency speculation industry by becoming importers. Between 2003-13 imports by the public sector increased by 1033%. Imports in general rose in the same period from $14 billion to $80 billion – 70% of those imports were supposedly for industry, yet as we have seen, industrial production has declined catastrophically over these years. Yet in 2018 Minister of Industry Tareck El Aissam announced that one-third of the national budget would be allocated as credits to the private sector. The picture could not be clearer. In a recent article, John Pilger noted that ‘the restaurants in Caracas are full’. That is true and revealing. But who in Venezuela does he imagine eats in restaurants – and does he think they pay their bills on bolivars?

    The leading revolutionary activist Roland Denis describes the Venezuelan state as ‘utterly corrupt and living on a revolutionary history transformed into an increasingly clumsy and false religious discourse’. If it has survived, this is for several key reasons. First the creation of an authoritarian state structure administered by a new ruling class that has merged economic, political and military power. That ruling class is committed to reintegrating into a global market as a provider of oil. Secondly, the residue of loyalty to Chávez is still strong and reinforced by a system of patronage. But for an increasing majority life is lived on the edge of the abyss. The third factor is the ineptitude and political weakness of the opposition, which has at no stage offered any policy addressing the economic crisis.  If it has emerged now, it is only as a surrogate for US interests in the region, which reflect those of the Latin American right and European capital.

    The demonstrations called by Guaidó have attracted massive support. It should be clear, however, that that is not a reflection of political support for the right. The marches also attracted many among the working class and the poor who are very clear about the interests that Guaidó represents. They are not anti-chavista, but they are bitterly critical of Maduro and the bureaucratic-military class that rules Venezuela today.

    When Maduro was elected to the presidency in August, it was with with the endorsement of a Constituent Assembly he had called earlier in the year. Unlike the 1999 Constituent Assembly, which wrote the new Constitution, and whose delegates were elected after widespread public debate, the 2018 Assembly was filled with unelected delegates placed by Maduro and the PSUV. It was an exercise in organised propaganda, not an example of popular democracy in any sense. In the presidential election in August, Maduro won 32% of the electorate – that is, 48% of those who voted. In his last election before his death, Chavez won 62% of voters; in just over five years since his election, millions of chavista voters had abandoned Maduro.  In the last two years, three million people (dismissed by one of the leaders of the state, Diosdado Cabello, as mere ‘followers of fashion’) have fled the country – and they are not by any means just the middle class. The presence of the Special Forces at the borders is suggestive. But more suggestive still is the fact that at no time has Maduro developed strategies to address hunger, or the mounting violence and lawlessness, or the health crisis, let alone the corruption of which he and his family are also beneficiaries. Last August, once re-elected, he announced that there would be a plan, a solution to the crisis. No plan has yet emerged nor policies that might lead to one. But the internal repression has intensified.

    What is to be done?

    Neither Guaidó nor Maduro have anything to offer the mass of Venezuelans. They are rival factions battling for the profits from oil and the huge benefits that come from corruption. Guaidó has no real social base; the demonstrations are not expressions of support but manifestations of desperation on the one hand, and of the other of rage at the betrayal of a revolution. It is a confusing situation. But the confusion has been intensified by a left outside Venezuela which has accepted and supported Maduro as he sold off the revolution to the highest bidder. Looked at from his point of view, the issue is the survival in power of himself and the profiteers around him. Looked at from the point of view of the Venezuelan working class, which is the only position from which socialists can address the current situation, there is nothing to choose between Guaidó and Maduro. And there seems to be an impasse given the armed forces’ support (until now) for him. The armed forces are defending their hold on political and economic power. With characteristic cynicism the right are offering amnesty for the military – that is, impunity for their economic crimes in exchange for abandoning state power to them. The dilemma for socialists is what the alternative is or should be.

    The Bolivarian Revolution was carried to power by mass support of Venezuela’s poor and working class. Their mobilisation and grass roots activism both saved Chávez from the coup of 2002 and built the resistance to the subsequent attacks from the opposition. Their capacity for independent action was the only guarantee of the participatory democracy that Chávez had promised. The creation of the PSUV in 2006 changed that, absorbing those grass roots organisations into the state and disarming and demobilising them. Those organisations barely exist today; but the memory of the experience of mass involvement does still remain. In the medium term, the task must be to rebuild those organisations, and to build solidarity for any and every manifestation of popular, mass resistance that arises – like the recent strikes of nurses, teachers and state employees. To continue to argue for solidarity with a corrupt, authoritarian state that cynically claims revolutionary credentials is to undermine any possibility of a re-emergence of struggle from below.

    Our solidarity should be with the Venezuelan people, exposing the lie of ‘humanitarian intervention’, calling for the immediate withdrawal of all troops from Venezuela’s borders. We should be clear where the responsibility for the crisis lies, both external and internal. Solidarity must defend the rights of the Venezuelan people to determine their own future, and contribute to rebuilding their capacity to exercise that right against all imperialisms, against the right across the region and beyond, and against a corrupt ruling class that has profited from their desperation. If there is any form of military intervention, the masses will respond in defence of that right, and the role of solidarity will be clear.

    In the immediate term, the Committee for the Defence of the Constitution, which includes leading chavistas from the past, Trotskyists, indigenous and environmentalist movements among its number, has called for a referendum as allowed by the constitution, which would test the attitude of the majority to new elections. It is a limited and inadequate response, but there is no revolutionary upsurge on the horizon. A referendum will at least provide an opportunity for Venezuelans to show that neither Maduro nor Guaidó speak for them, and it will unmask the hypocrisy of both camps. What kind of socialism can it be that does nothing about the hunger and needs of its people and sends trained thugs to fire on them? Beyond empty calls for revolution now, it is hard to imagine any other immediate alternative. But the international left cannot allow itself to continue to provide an alibi for a corrupt ruling class, nor allow it to discredit the idea of a socialism whose most fundamental sense is the struggle to build a just future free of exploitation, corruption and fear.

    ***

    [1] It may surprise people that Canada joined the Lima Group in supporting Trump, who has shown very little affection for Canada. The explanation is that Canada is a major player in the Latin American mining sector. See: Todd Gordon and Jeffery Webber, ‘Imperialism and resistance: Canadian mining companies in Latin America’, Third World Quarterly, 29:1 (2007), 63-87.

    [2] In the absence of any available official data I have relied on the carefully researched economic analyses of Manuel Sutherland, a young Venezuelan Marxist. He has recently been fired from his job at the state’s Bolivarian University.

     

  • One Party in the Age of Two Lefts?

    One Party in the Age of Two Lefts?

    One of the great challenges to redressing the split between Democratic Party avoiding and Democratic Party engaging socialists, is how to productively deal with a beguiling strategic predilection of the party avoiders. That predilection is to assail the Democrats as socialist spoilers; and while their arguments are not necessarily wrong, the ways they prove them divert many from facing the unity-encumbering dynamics of their left formation-building strategies. (more…)

  • Should DSA Endorse Bernie Sanders? A Debate

    Should DSA Endorse Bernie Sanders? A Debate

    Well, it’s happened: Senator Bernie Sanders has declared his candidacy for the 2020 Presidential nomination of the Democratic Party. Seeing a historic opportunity, DSA’s National Political Committee has established an expedited endorsement process. Now DSA chapters all over the country are debating the question, exploring what such a decision would have on the growing socialist movement. Below are two contrasting views on the question: Should DSA Endorse Bernie Right Now? (more…)

  • Hungary’s Winter of Discontent

    Hungary’s Winter of Discontent

    Ooh the harder they come
    The harder they’ll fall, one and all 
    – Jimmy Cliff, 1972

    Widespread protests in Hungary, against the right-wing, authoritarian and nationalist government of Viktor Orbán, which began in December 2018, continue at the time of writing, though on a reduced scale. The trigger issue was the “slave law”, new legislation permitting employers to ask their workers for 400 hours overtime in a year (up from 250 hours), and moreover allowing this work to be paid up to three years in arrears. The overtime is not compulsory under the law, but workers fear victimisation by their bosses if they refuse.

    More generally, the protests have challenged the encroaching control by Orbán and his Fidesz party over the judiciary, the news media and the universities.

    Involved in the protests are the Hungarian Trade Union Confederation (MASZSZ) and opposition political parties – and therein lies a huge problem and contradiction. Jobbik (Movement for a Better Hungary), which came second in the general election of April 2018 taking 23 percent of the vote, is a party with a far-right, even fascist pedigree, though it is now projecting a more moderate image. The Hungarian Socialist Party (MSZP) is actually a liberal, pro-European Union party with a record of support for privatisation and free market policies.

    In late January, workers at the Audi Hungaria motor factory in Győr held a very successful strike that halted production, not only at the Hungaria plant itself, but also at Audi’s plant in Ingolstadt, Bavaria, which assembles cars with engines made in Győr. Audi gave in to the union’s demand for an 18 percent wage rise, a big step towards the longer-term goal of closing the earnings gap with Audi workers in Slovakia and Poland, where wages are 29 and 39 percent higher than the pre-strike rate at Audi Hungaria. This is a wage dispute with the company, not directly part of the anti-government protests. Still, it signifies growing confidence and militancy on the part of the workers.

    By some measures, Hungary’s economy is performing well. Annual growth in GDP is currently above 4 percent, while unemployment has fallen to 3.6 percent, from 11 percent in 2010. However, wages are low, which is one reason why many Hungarians have gone abroad to find better paid work. 600,000 Hungarians, or 9 percent of the working-age population, work outside the country. Orbán’s drive to increase working hours is an attempt to solve what is, from the point of view of capitalist employers, a labour shortage, without relaxing his anti-immigration policy.

    Viktor Orbán’s “Illiberal Democracy”

    Viktor Orbán first made his mark in 1989, at a ceremony for the reburial of Imre Nagy and other leaders, executed after the suppression of the Revolution of 1956. Orbán used the occasion to call for the withdrawal of Russian troops and for free elections. It was a brave speech – one that echoed the initial demands of 1956. Both demands were fulfilled within a year. Originally, his Fidesz was a liberal youth party, but over the years it shifted to the right. By the mid-1990s, he envisaged it as “a modern conservative party”, after the manner of Helmut Kohl’s Christian Democrats in Germany. Since then, Orbán and Fidesz have moved much further to the right.

    Orbán’s ideology of “Illiberal Democracy” upholds the nation-state against multinational organisations such as the European Union on the one hand, and individual human rights on the other. It fiercely opposes immigration and multiculturalism. It stresses Hungary’s “Christian identity”, but this is an instrumental version of Christianity in the service of the nation-state, with scant regard for humility or compassion. The notion of “Christian identity” serves also to exclude Muslims as “other”. “Illiberal democracy” extols the traditional family, because the chief purpose of sexuality is to procreate future generations of Magyars. In 2017, Orbán invited the International Organization of the Family, which campaigns against LGBTQ rights, to hold its gathering in Budapest. In 2018, he banned gender studies in Hungary’s universities.

    Hungary under Orbán remains a bourgeois democracy, in that opposition parties and trade unions operate freely. However, the government has systematically extended its control over the news media, and the country is saturated by its propaganda.

    While Orbán closed his country to real refugees from Syria and elsewhere – he had fences built along the borders with Serbia and Croatia to keep them out – he has declared a welcome for racist “refugees” from more multicultural countries in Europe. In foreign policy, he has called for an “anti-immigration axis” within the European Union, including Italy and Poland alongside Hungary. (The use of the word “axis” has sinister resonances, particularly in Hungary, a country that allied with Nazi Germany in the Second World War).

    “Illiberal democracy” includes at least an undertone of antisemitism. Orbán has praised Miklos Horthy, Regent of Hungary from 1920 to 1944, as a great statesman – despite Horthy’s involvement in the mass deportation of Jews to the Nazi death camps. In December 2018, the business magazine Figyelő published a cover showing Andras Heisler, president of the Hungarian Jewish Federation, amid a shower of banknotes. The magazine alleged that Heisler was involved in financial mismanagement. Whether the allegations are true or false, corruption is widespread in Orbán’s Hungary, and Heisler was singled out and depicted in an antisemitic manner.

    After graduating from university in 1987, the young Viktor Orbán worked part-time for George Soros’s Open Society Foundation. In 1989, he went to Oxford University on a Soros scholarship – returning to Hungary for the end of the state-capitalist single-party state system that went by the name of socialism. Today, Soros has a starring role in Orbán’s ideology as the arch-enemy and hidden hand behind the protests. One government mouthpiece said: “These protests are being organised with George Soros’s money, so that they can turn Hungary into an immigrant country”.  In the words of one protester: “Personally I don’t care about George Soros… but I hate that some people believe that Soros is the only reason for our problems”.

    In 2017, the statue of Marxist philosopher György Lukács (1890 – 1971) was removed from St Stephen’s Park in Budapest. This was followed by the closure of the Lukács Archives – in the face of widespread protests in Hungary and internationally. This is all part of the drive to impose ideological conformity on Hungary.

    The wheel of history may be turning. Viktor Orbán, who once spoke out against a waning dictatorship, now finds his own grip on power shaken by protests from below.

    Originally posted on the International Marxist-Humanist website.

  • Just Collapse!

    Just Collapse!

    Sudan. The endless lines outside bakeries and gas stations suggest an almost willful naiveté about the dire economic and political situation. The Kafkaesque bureaucratic system requires an element of nepotism to vitalize it into animation. The lack of cash in banks, and the depreciation of the local currency force the people to convert and conserve money. The increased taxes on the average citizen and the tax cuts for those associated with the government produce distrust and disgust directed towards the state. The secret services arbitrarily arrest of persons who display even the slightest antipathy towards government doctrine and use gulag-like hidden torture prisons. All these phenomena, and others, have converged, and the implosion of this concoction manifests as a wave of zealous, righteous indignation that overwhelm every Sudanese person. There is a rumble in the atmosphere that can be felt all over the country. The echo of gun shots and tear gas booms ripple to the furthest corners of Sudan. From the naming and shaming of secret service officials on social media, to clashes between citizen and government, it’s a full-blown revolution!

    Why? And why now? These conditions are by no means new to Sudan. The brutal tactics of the secret services were on gory display during previous protests, and the increased prices and scarcity of gasoline has been a reoccurring motif in northern Sudan since the split of 2011. The currency depreciation, though it is at its nadir, was already on a downward trajectory. There was always a vivid understanding of the corruption in Sudanese politics. I remember talking to a rickshaw driver last summer; naturally the final subject matter of the conversation was politics. My question, perhaps simplistic, was “why do the Sudanese people not revolt?” To which the rickshaw driver answered “to what end? To end up like Egypt or Syria? We know the situation is bad, but what happens when someone inherits a 30-year corruption debt, and what if the new president is as corrupt or worse?” There seemed to be a synergy of political awareness among those I talked to; the response was mostly similar to the rickshaw driver’s.

    So, what changed? The frailty of the economy finally gave way, and it collapsed. Simply. It is no longer financially sustainable to work traditional professions in Sudan. During one of my patience-building exercises of queuing up for hours, sometimes days, in the gas lines of Khartoum, Mohammad, a child of nine years, came up to my window selling chewing gum. I was curious as to why he was still in the street at 11 pm, and where his parents were or siblings. Mohammad told me that, even though his father worked as bureaucrat and his mother was a teacher, he needed to sell all the chewing gum he had before he could return home and buy flour to make Kisra or Gurasa breads. It’s perhaps important to note that it was Mohammad’s summer holidays. In the not so distant past, a bottle of water used to cost one Sudanese pound; today it’s 12 pounds, with no increase in salaries. Beyond that, if you had money in the bank, you could not withdraw; opportunistic black-marketeers would stand outside banks and buy checks at 80% of their value.

    The causes of the crisis are multiple, from the 1989 coup d’état to the 1997 embargo. Beyond the overt aetiology, I believe there are three complex happenings that may have aided in actualizing today’s reality in Sudan. First, the fragmentation of Sudanese society; second, mass migration of the middle class; and finally, the dependence on expatriates to stimulate the economy. Of course, this is not to remove any blame from the current government, or to in any way obviate accountability with determinism.

    In Sudan, the fragmentation of society, ethnically and socioeconomically, insured the continued rule of the National Congress Party. The wars against South Sudan and west Sudan, and the propaganda programs helped in dividing Sudan to the point of splitting the country. These tactics also privileged a certain narrative that promoted the interest of the northern Arabic ethnic group in Khartoum. Today in Sudan, wealth and power is not spread equally; instead it is concentrated in a single ethnicity. The longer the current government remains in power the smaller the circle of privilege becomes. In recent years even the northern Arabs have felt the brunt of economic decline.

    With the effects of economic decline being felt by most, highly skilled workers and professionals find themselves in a precarious situation, in which the inevitable collapse will lead to unemployment, regression, and pay cuts. Today, university professors earn less than $200 a month, where 15 years prior it was $1,000 plus. These deteriorations forced the middle class and the privileged to quickly migrate for better opportunities. This mass exodus marked the obliteration of the middle class, which had two effects on the socioeconomics structure of Sudan. Firstly, in place of the former middle class came the unqualified and unprofessional, who were not capable of performing the work of their predecessors. Thus, when the wife of the minister of health fell ill, the minister arranged for her to be treated abroad. Secondly, the gap between poor and rich became vast, and any person outside the umbrella of governmental privilege faced insurmountable obstacles, from arbitrary taxation to racketeering.

    The expatriated professional middle class were successfully employed and managed to integrate into other societies, even creating small cohorts in major cities, i.e. London, Doha. With their financial ability, they would spend summers and other holidays in Sudan, more often than not, even send money to relatives and friends in Sudan. With the lack of production opportunities and skilled capabilities, there is nothing to stabilize the currency. The money spent by expatriates in Sudan, and sent to family and friends, is a major stimulus to the economy. The government relies on this stimulus so much that expatriates have their own bureaucratic system (the Organization of Expatriates Affairs, Khartoum), among other exclusive privileges. Due to the excessive corruption in the country, money from potential economic enterprises or foreign aid from other countries was devoured by government officials.

    This dependency on expatriate cash flow proved to be destructive. Unlike the Philippines or Egypt or any other countries that have relied partially on expatriate contributions, Sudanese expatriates were not enticed with financial incentive schemes. On the contrary, expatriates are exposed to ‘special’ taxes, a targeted tax plan that exploits that bracket of Sudanese society. In addition to the special taxes, sending money to Sudan costs half the sent amount through conventional channels; the black-market values the dollar at 70 Sudanese pounds if you’re paying by check, and 80 if paying by cash. However, the official price, that is not even used by the government, is 40. All in all, the currency has three values, or more: cash price, check price, and transfer price. In recent years, the expatriates, having integrated into other societies and created a homey atmosphere there, and because of corruption, have become more and more reluctant to splurge in Sudan. Consequently, this has led to further economic disarray.

    Today’s protest slogan in Sudan is “Tsgut Bss!” This translates as “Just collapse!” It seems to me that the political awareness shown by the rickshaw has been overwhelmed by dire economic realities, where the cost of one piece of bread today is the same as a sandwich, a soda and a cigarette not ten years ago. I would imagine if I asked the rickshaw driver the same question today, he would reply with “Tsgut Bss!” I occasionally find myself thinking about Mohammad, from the gas station; does he sell chewing gum every holiday, or even throughout the year? Or where would he be if we did not have a failed government? Or what if one day he needed more than flour? Or what if something sinister happened to the child in the dead of night – would his family even know what happened? All things outside his control.

     

  • The Decline and Fall of Neoliberal Hegemony

    The Decline and Fall of Neoliberal Hegemony

    In his scathing, Sturm und Drang takedown of the 1851 French dictatorial coup, The 18th Brumaire of Louis Napoléon, Marx remarks that history repeats twice: “the first time as tragedy, the second time as farce.” Thus when Luther pit himself against the Catholic establishment, he put on, according to Marx, “the mask of the Apostle Paul.” Likewise, the French Revolution of 1789-1814 “draped itself alternately in the guise of the Roman Republic and the Roman Empire.” And to Marx’s chagrin, the latter guise, in particular, enjoyed a revival under Louis Napoléon Bonaparte, who drew on it relentlessly to rationalize his retconning of the Napoléonic legacy.

    Marx, in his essay, focuses understandably on the evocations of the past that had acquired political significance in France. But while France continues, even to this day, to be partially gripped by nostalgia for the revolutionary heroism requisite to the establishment of an ostensibly neo-Roman Republic, in the years from 1979-2007 the Anglo-American world, skewing toward unfettered free markets, came to embrace its own brand of historical nostalgia: that of the English Enlightenment. Against the evils of the growing welfare state, what became known as neoliberalism governance was initially invoked as a return to a laissez-faire order dominant throughout the 19th century. To this day apologists like Samuel Gregg argue that the night watchmen state of the 19th century Anglo-American world left markets alone to bring about an unmatched order of global prosperity and development. This ideal order was challenged by re-distributive efforts through the mid 20th century, and only began to gain traction again in the 1970s and ’80s when intellectuals like Friedrich Hayek and politicians like Margaret Thatcher surged to popularity and power.  By the 1990s, with the establishment of international legal regimes via institutions such as the World Trade Organization (WTO), neoliberalism seemed unstoppable. Indeed, figures like Francis Fukuyama famously declared the “end of history,” arguing that neoliberalism’s triumph was so complete there could be no genuine competing ideologies.

    Of course all good things must come to an end. Since the “Great Recession” of 2007-08, neoliberalism’s popularity has been waning across the globe. Right wing populists-what we have elsewhere called post-modern conservatives-are emerging across the globe to challenge its internationalism, fetishism of the market economy, and tendency to engender mass migration and cultural change.  Many neoliberals have expressed surprise at these developments. They were confident that the Hayekian gambit they staked the international order on-that the mass of people would accept massive inequality and social transformation in return for a gradually improving standard of living-now seems like a bust.  Some might attribute this development chiefly to the impact of the Great Recession, which destroyed millions of lives across the globe. And indeed, we do not intend to undervalue the Recessions impact as a catalyst. But it is essential to understand that the failings of neoliberalism run much deeper.  It was characterized by an array of internal contradictions that, indeed, have the air of farce.

    To show why, we will begin by demonstrating the superficiality of neoliberal ideology, even relative to the Enlightenment forebears they invoked but rarely appreciated. This is an aspect of a broader project to demonstrate why neoliberal doctrines were riven by intellectual failings and practical challenges from the get go, which were often masked by their transient success as a system of hegemonic global governance. Looking at where neoliberal authors were blind to problems figures like Smith understood can demonstrate why it is faltering as a capitalist project even on its own terms.

    Neoliberalism and Classical Political Economy

    “Whenever the legislature attempts to regulate the differences between masters and their workmen its counsellors are always the masters.  When the regulation, therefore, is in favour of the workmen, it is always just and equitable; but it is sometimes otherwise when in favour of the masters.”

                Adam Smith, The Wealth of Nations

    While the ideas of Hayek and Milton Friedman indeed bear a superficial resemblance to those of Enlightenment thinkers such as Adam Smith, their efforts to cast themselves as their successors are, in a crucial sense, disingenuous. In this short article we will focus on describing the difference between the work of Adam Smith and Friedman. This is because few authors better highlight the distinction between the comparative rigor of classical political economy, even when endorsing nascent capitalist dynamics, against the more stridently ideological accounts of the neoliberals.

    In the Wealth of Nations, Smith, while supportive of the liberalization of laws impeding trade, insists on the importance of the role of government in complimenting the function of the market. Smith, a beneficiary of the rich intellectual climate of eighteenth-century Scotland—itself in large part a product of the Scottish government’s levying of taxes to finance schools, including for the poor—argued that governments should pay for the construction of, among other things, schools, bridges, and roads. He also makes the point throughout the text what has been described as the “invisible hand”—the capacity of individuals to enhance the welfare of the collective through the pursuit of their own ends—can only manifest within a society in which the authority of the private sector is held in check, due to the fact that its interests are “always in some respects different from, and even opposite to, that of the public.”

    In the hands of Friedman, Smith’s ideas undergo a considerable metamorphosis. For while Smith stresses the need for intelligent private sector regulation, Friedman, by contrast, espouses something closer to a free market absolutism—one limited only by his call for a negative income tax to ameliorate extremes of poverty and his acknowledgement of the occasional need for public sector monopoly, as in military defense (though even this Friedman blames on socialists, in the form of “the threat from the Kremlin”). Barring these exceptions, in Friedman’s view, seemingly all forms of government-provided social security and regulation—from social housing to state licensure—can be either privatized or abolished. In an effort to reinforce his claim that the private sector is far more efficient than the public one across virtually all sectors, Friedman also attempts to disprove what he views as the foundational myth of the American welfare state by alleging the Federal Reserve severely mismanaged the money supply during the Great Depression. This argument, however, is highly selective and revisionist: while Friedman blames the Great Depression on the Federal Reserve’s allowing of the money supply to fall by one-third from 1929-1932, he fails to examine the significant role played by the Roosevelt administration’s 1934 Gold Reserve Act in expanding the American money supply.

    Friedman’s commentary on the New Deal is by no means the only part of Capitalism and Freedom that is deeply flawed. In the seventh chapter of the book, “Capitalism and Discrimination,” Friedman argues that the free market is a socially equalizing force due to its indiscriminate nature, and that minorities wrongfully “attribute to capitalism the residual restrictions they experience rather than to recognize that the free market has been the major factor enabling these restrictions to be as small as they are” (an utterly hilarious notion, given that Friedman here appears to be pitting his book against the actual political experience of all social minorities). There is something to be said for this argument—one not so dissimilar to Marx’s claim that the “the bourgeoisie, wherever it has got the upper hand, has put an end to all feudal, patriarchal, idyllic relations.” But by making the sweeping assertion that “the preserves of discrimination in any society are the areas that are most monopolistic in character, whereas discrimination against groups of particular color or religion is least in those areas where there is the greatest freedom of competition” Friedman 1) classifies all governments as de facto more discriminatory than the private sector, and 2) treats the question of “freedom of competition” ahistorically. The problems with this are manifold. As for point 1) it is clear that, in many cases, governments have been able to successfully counteract private-sector discrimination, as is witnessed, in an American context, by the large number of African-Americans who found employment with the American government due to its relatively aggressive enforcement of fair employment practices after the 1964 Civil Rights Act. Regarding point 2), it should be remembered that the principle of “freedom of competition” is often used to uphold policies which are explicitly discriminatory in nature (just consider the ‘right’ of slave-owners to hold slaves as property prior to the Emancipation Proclamation!).

    Another problem of Friedman’s analysis is the way that he, like many neoliberals, condemns government intervention—yet is nevertheless willing to take credit for all of the positive gains it’s accrued. This is in sharp contrast to Smith’s position in The Wealth of Nations. Smith was far more sensitive to the way in which government often played a fundamental role in securing the rights and property of capital, often through dramatic and unwarranted intervention.  As the quote at the start of this section indicates, he felt this was a disaster. It meant that capital was able to use government to secure its interests, often at the expense of their workers and the population as a whole. This is part and parcel of why Smith believed the state may have a crucial role to play in assisting workers to ensure they had opportunities for flourishing outside of work, and also is foundational to his arguments for breaking up monopolizing tendencies where they arise. Contrast this with the comparative silence of figures like Friedman when government efforts succeed in ameliorating the conditions of the worst well-off, with the often shrill reaction which occurs when redistributive efforts harm the interests of capital even marginally.

    For instance, Friedman argues that there is “drastically less inequality” in “Western capitalist societies like the Scandinavian countries, France, Britain, and the United States” than “in a status society like India or a backward country like Egypt” (and, Friedman speculates in lieu of data, maybe even in Russia). Yet so far is this is true, it would only be the case, historically, due to the combination of developed capitalist industry and redistributive measures imposed by the government (keep in mind that when Friedman wrote Capitalist and Freedom, the highest marginal tax rate in the United States was 87%). Similarly, Friedman notes that while John Stuart Mill remarked in 1848 that “mechanical inventions [have not yet] lightened the day’s toil of any human being,” the “chief characteristic” of “progress and development over the past century is that it has freed the masses from backbreaking toil and has made available to them products and services that were formerly the monopoly of the upper classes, without in any corresponding way expanding the products and services available to the wealthy.” But it never occurs to Friedman, even fleetingly, that the capacity of the populace at large to enjoy the wealth created by more advanced capitalist production may owe to the adoption throughout the developed world of more extensive redistributive measures. Adam Smith, let alone Karl Marx, would certainly not have been so blind.

    Conclusion: Neoliberalism, Post-Modern Conservatism, and the Contradictions of Praxis

    There are many more contradictions that could be dissected with Capitalism and Freedom—just one of several canonical neoliberal tomes. But in sum, we can say that Capitalism and Freedom contributed to the reinforcement of two significant economic fallacies which have been devastating in practice. The first of these is that lowering taxes would not lead to significantly heightened inequality; a point Friedman makes repeatedly throughout the text. The second is that the pathway to development lies in a program of full-scale deregulation. The latter notion, in particular, came to influence the ‘free trade’ frenzy of the eighties and nineties, as nations both rich and poor eagerly ceded portions of their sovereignty to wed themselves to transnational trade agreements, on the basis of the belief that they only stood to benefit.

    On the proving ground of reality, however, both these assumptions proved problematic. On one hand, it’s clear that the lowering of tax rates in the Western capitalist nations described by Friedman—as well other factors, such as anti-inflationary monetary policy and a lowered birth rate—has indeed contributed to a significant rise in inequality, with nations such as the United States and the United Kingdom now backsliding into Dickensian disparities between rich and poor (and facing correspondent political destabilization). On the other hand, the irony of international free trade is that the countries that have most succeeded in enriching themselves—such as Japan and China—have maintained varyingly stringent regimes of capital controls to prevent national income from falling considerably below GDP (or in other words, to prevent foreign takeover leading to the excessive payment of rents abroad). By contrast, regions such as Africa—which lacked the sovereignty to impose said controls—now must contend with a full-blown neocolonialism; one in which as much as 40-50 per cent of all manufacturing capital is foreign-owned.

    No surprise, then, that the public of the Western capitalist nations at large—no longer able to bask in the credit bubble that sustained their living standard prior to 2008-09—are suffering from deep neoliberal fatigue. While the turn towards post-modern conservatism as an alternative is deeply disturbing, it is not entirely surprising. As observed by Slavoj Žižek, the left must recognize that, beneath the banality of its xenophobia, lies, and vulgarity, post-modern conservatism can initially propose policies which seem attractive to individuals who have suffered under neoliberalism and its contradictions.  Trump, for instance, frequently criticizes the liberal economic programs supported by so-called ‘elites.’ Leftists must understand this if they are to fully grasp the initial appeal of post-modern conservative doctrine.  Where we need to be critical is observing that, even where they propose superficially attractive policies, many of these figures have little intention to implement progressive measure.  In practice, Trump’s domestic policies, such as ending Obamacare and lowering tax rates, disproportionately favour fiscal dumping, and thus the jet set class he regularly rails at. Only on the question of foreign trade—beholden as it is to a system of regulations that nations like China have deftly exploited to prevent foreign annexation—has Trump, likely sensing the diminishing gains associated with it, elected to upset the Republican status quo (fixating on the gamesmanship of other countries also helps Trump, as Thomas Piketty has observed, distract from his plutocratically-directed domestic policies). Post-modern conservatives are a false solution to real problems, and can only be counted on to deliver a politics of dishonesty and division. Only a genuine progressive alternative can provide true solutions to the contradictions engendered by neoliberal doctrine and policy.

    The liberal economic policy dreamt up by the English Enlightenment ended in tragedy—a dramatic heightening of industrial productivity coupled with the impoverishment of the populace at large. This conflict was only subdued with the foundation of the welfare state. More recently, the existence of the social state helped prevent the ’07-’08 recession from becoming a re-run of the Great Depression, as regular state payments and stimulus packages aided in offsetting the impacts of a pervasive confidence failure. Neoliberal hegemony, then, ends in farce: as a diminished force within an economic establishment that’s only managed to save itself through bathing itself in the chilly waters of socialization.