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  • What Do We Really Want Policing To Be?

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    Brooklyn College sociology professor Alex Vitale’s provocative new book, The End of Policing, comes amid the national debate about deadly force by police and the rise of the Black Lives Matter movement. But Vitale — one of the country’s fiercest advocates of police reform over the past 25 years — thinks police killings are a symptom of a much broader issue. As the coordinator of the Policing and Social Justice Project at Brooklyn, he argues that police in recent decades have taken on a “warrior mentality” that is fundamentally incompatible with the ideal of equal justice. And he thinks the solutions typically advocated by progressives are not the real answer. Following are edited excerpts of Vitale’s recent appearance on the CUNY Book Beat podcast.

    How has policing changed over the past few decades?
    What we’ve seen is a real expansion in the scope of the police mission. It started with the war on drugs that rolled out in the 1960s and really ramped up in the ’80s, but we can also see this in school policing and the use of police to deal with a whole range of low-level, quality-of-life-type offenses related to homelessness, mental illness, etc. So, all of these have increased the interactions between the police and communities and have really shifted our whole approach of government away from solving problems through restorative approaches, like really building affordable housing, to using punitive and coercive mechanisms instead. And we’ve seen a broader political shift that favors these kinds of responses so that all kinds of institutions — our social welfare system, schools — have become more punitive and more controlling.

    You use the terms “over-policing” and “warrior mentality.” What do they mean, in your view?
    I think the militarization of policing that we’ve seen is sort of the tip of the broader iceberg in which the political leadership of the country at all levels has told the police to wage a war on crime, a war on drugs, on terror, on gangs — a war on disorder. So there’s developed a warrior mindset in policing that views large swaths of the public as an enemy to be managed, controlled and feared, and this has, I think, been a major contributor to some of the most egregious shooting incidents we’ve had over the last four or five years.

    Has there in fact been an increase in police use of deadly force, particularly against young black men, or is it that we hear about it, and more quickly, because of social media and cable news.
    It’s hard to know because the police don’t keep these statistics or don’t make them publicly available. We have some data from individual cities so we know, for instance, that in New York City police kill many fewer people than they did in the ’60s and early ’70s after they implemented a whole series of firearms control regimes, which does show that it is possible to reduce the use of deadly force. However, what I try to point out is that the use of deadly force is just the tip of the iceberg of over-policing. When we look at these individual incidents and unpack what was driving them, we can see the failures of our overreliance on policing in many, many of these cases. And in my mind it’s always been tinged with racial animus and the mobilization of racialized fears.

    The title of your book is very provocative. What do you mean by The End of Policing?
    Race InequalitiesI think the title has a kind of double meaning. One is meant to pose the question of what is it that we really want the police to be doing? What is the end purpose of policing? But also, the title is intended to signal an approach that says that for lots of what police do now there are alternatives that are less coercive and that treat people with more dignity and are often actually more effective. So, when we encounter a problem with policing what we should be asking ourselves is not how to fine-tune the response of the police in that situation, but why are we even relying on police in that situation to begin with? For instance, at least a quarter of all people killed by police in the U.S. are having a mental health crisis at the time they’re killed and many of them have been well known to public health officials, the community and the police. And yet nothing is ever done in most cases to really address their underlying mental health problem. So they’re allowed to spiral out of control to the point where it becomes a crisis, and the only real resource available to respond to that crisis is policing. The idea of successfully prosecuting a police officer, that’s not going to do anything to change the underlying dynamic. We have to get out of this mindset that just a little bit of additional training or holding officers accountable is the solution to, in this case, the collapse of the mental health system.

    You disagree with most police critics and reform advocates who talk about things like de-escalation training and greater accountability. Wouldn’t that change the outcomes in many cases – for instance, the death of Eric Garner on Staten Island?
    It’s certainly possible that a different approach to the use of force might have saved his life — but let’s not forget why that confrontation escalated in the first place. It was because Eric Garner had experienced dozens of punitive interactions with the police over the fact that he wasn’t paying the proper taxes on loose cigarettes and was possibly selling marijuana on a low level, and these behaviors had become high priority issues for large numbers of police. There were about eight or 10 officers there to engage him and his frustration at this constant criminalization of what, for him, was essentially survival behavior is what caused him to not cooperate with police. So you can give police de-escalation training, but what are they going to do when someone they are intending to take enforcement action against resists them? Are they just going to walk away? They’re not. No amount of training is going to overcome those institutional imperatives. The question is why is that such a winning strategy in American civic life?

    How does that change?
    Part of what’s so exasperating is how bipartisan the consensus has been in favor of mass incarceration and turning everything over to the police — progressive mayors, Democratic governors and presidents have all been deeply involved in this. So I decided to write a book that has more public engagement to it rather than a strictly academic book. For everyone who writes a well-researched academic book and thinks that somehow because they’ve laid out the argument and presented the data that it’s going to lead to change, that’s a kind of Pollyannaish worldview. We’re not lacking in data or arguments, we’re lacking in political will to do these things. So my outreach focus for the book has not been on academics and policymakers, it’s been on grassroots politics.


    This Q & A is excerpted from a CUNY Book Beat podcast. To listen to the entire interview, go to www.cuny.edu/bookbeat.

    Excerpt originally posted at CUNYMatters

    See also Michael Hirsch's review of The End of Policing here.

  • Revolution in a Warming World: Lessons from the Russian to the Syrian Revolutions

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    It doesn’t take much imagination to associate climate change with revolution. If the planetary order upon which all societies are built starts breaking down, how can they possibly remain stable? Various more or less horrifying scenarios of upheaval have long been extrapolated from soaring temperatures.

    In his novel The Drowned World from 1962, today often considered the first prophetic work of climate fiction, J. G. Ballard conjured up melting icecaps, an English capital submerged under tropical marshes and populations fleeing the unbearable heat toward polar redoubts. The UN directorate seeking to manage the migration flows assumed that ‘within the new perimeters described by the Arctic and Antarctic Circles life would continue much as before, with the same social and domestic relationships, by and large the same ambitions and satisfactions’ – but that assumption ‘was obviously fallacious.’ A drowned world would be nothing like the one hitherto known.

    In more recent years, the American military establishment has dominated this subgenre of climate projection. Extreme weather events, the Senate learned from the 2013 edition of the ‘worldwide threat assessment’ compiled by the U.S. intelligence community, will put food markets under serious strain, ‘triggering riots, civil disobedience, and vandalism.’ If the armed forces are firefighters tasked with suppressing outbreaks of rebellion, their workload will increase in a warming world. Pursuing its consistent and candid interest in the issue, in such stark contrast to the denialism of the American right, the Pentagon submitted a report to Congress in July 2015 detailing how all combatant commands are now integrating climate change into their planning.

    The ‘threat multiplier’ is already at work, undermining fragile governments, turning populations against rulers unable to meet their needs: and it will only get worse. Most of it will play out in overcrowded littorals. In Out of the Mountains: The Coming Age of the Urban Guerilla, David Kilcullen, perhaps the most astute mandarin of the military wing of the empire, predicts a near future of megacities in the Global South filled to the brim with restless masses, mostly on low-lying coastal land; not only cutting into their food and water supplies, climate change will threaten to directly drown those masses. How can they not pick up whatever arms they have and start marching? Mixing lessons from the second intifada, Central Asian jihads, the Arab Spring and the Occupy movement, Kilcullen envisions a century of permanent counterinsurgency in hot slums sliding into the sea.

    So far, the sworn enemies of revolution have dominated this frenzy of speculation. Little input has come from the other side: from the partisans of the idea that the present order needs to be overthrown or else things will turn out very badly. But if the strategic environment of counterinsurgency is shifting, so is – by definition – that of revolutionaries, who then have just as compelling a reason to analyze what lies in store. The imbalance in the amount of preparation is glaring. Those who pledge allegiance to the revolutionary tradition – in whose collective mind the experience of 1917 will probably always loom large – should dare to use their imagination as productively as any writer of intelligence reports or works of fiction. One might begin by distinguishing between four possible configurations of revolution and heat.

    Revolution As Symptom

    How can rising temperatures translate into social turbulence? In a pair of papers which have caused a stir in the research community, Solomon M. Hsiang and his colleagues collect some fifty data sets covering 10,000 years of world history, feed numbers into their computer models and distil a straight link from heat to various forms of confrontation. On all scales and in all cultures, anomalously hot weather induces hostile honking, police brutality, baseball pitchers hitting batters, urban riots and, at the end of the spectrum, ‘the forcible removal of rulers.’ Somehow exceptional warmth incites more contentious behaviour in individuals, and the effect is three times larger for ‘intergroup conflict,’ the box in which the spectre of revolution appears. Claiming robust quantitative proof of causation, Hsiang et al. proceed to conclude that if the past is anything to go by, a hotter twenty-first century will see all manner of strife – ‘the future holds nothing else but confrontation,’ they could have quoted the opening lines of Public Enemy’s “Apocalypse 91”.

    Naturally, critics have taken aim at the deceptive simplicity of this thesis. By placing all other variables within brackets – a prerequisite for isolating the climate factor – Hsiang and his colleagues effectively invent a unilinear, monocausal mechanism: bad weather–conflict. That criticism could be taken one step further. If there is any link between climate change and the kind of unrest that may issue in a full-fledged revolution, it cannot possibly be immediate. No matter how hot it gets, no one will ever go on strike or attack a police station just for feeling over-heated. There has to be a pre-existing score to settle, some sort of simmering rage brought toward a boiling-point, for otherwise the aggression would be completely random, and so unable to feed into collective action of any significance (hostile honking here excluded). The statistical methodology of Hsiang et al., in which everything but climate is relegated to the dead category of ceteris paribus, should be inverted: if the aim is to understand how global warming may set off discord, it must not be posited as acting on its own.

    That criticism, however, also curves back on some of the critics of the thesis. Laying all emphasis on the variables omitted by Hsiang et al., one team of researchers argues that ‘it is probably more critical to understand “the nature of the state” than the “state of nature.”’ Given that climate never operates in isolation – this is the logic of the argument – it cannot really be that important. But that is to jump to the mirror error. That the violent repercussions of global warming must have travelled along social pathways does not make the process any less powerful. Unmediated, exclusive causation cannot be posited as a criterion for the efficacy of climate change in calling forth something like a revolution, for that would presuppose an empty planet, the non-existence of human societies on earth. Since there are societies – in whose absence we would not have had fossil fuel combustion in the first place, nor contentious politics in streets or squares – any climatic spark will always burn through relations between people on its way to an explosion. Even societies crumbling under four degrees of warming will be shot through with inequalities of power. The critical state of nature is mediated – in no way negated – by the nature of the state. Or, in short, it is a matter of articulation. That is what needs to be understood and acted upon.

    This academic debate now has a testing ground where the stakes count in millions of human lives: Syria. In the years leading up to the outbreak of the 2011 revolution, that country reeled under an epochal drought. Sustaining the agriculture of the Mediterranean basin since time immemorial, a relatively stable regime of rainfall coming in from the sea between November and April abruptly gave way, in the 1970s, to a trend of ever more fickle precipitation and persistent drying. The worst effected corner was the Levant, particularly the area known as the Fertile Crescent, and particularly the part of it located in Syria. 1998 marked another shift toward semi-permanent Syrian drought, the severity of which, tree rings reveal, has no equivalent in the past 900 years. Not only have the winter rains failed, but the higher temperatures have also sped up evaporation in summertime, depleting groundwater and streams and parching the soil. There is no natural explanation for the trend. It can only be ascribed to the emissions of greenhouse gases.

    The Syrian drought reached its highest peak of intensity so far in the years 2006-2010, when the sky stayed blue for longer than anyone could remember. The breadbasket of the northeastern provinces collapsed. Wheat and barley crops more than halved; by February 2010, nearly all livestock herds had been obliterated. In October of that year, the calamity reached the pages of the New York Times, whose reporter described how ‘hundreds of villages have been abandoned as farmlands turn to cracked desert and grazing animals die off. Sandstorms have become far more common, and vast tent cities of dispossessed farmers and their families have risen up around the larger towns and cities of Syria.’ Estimates range between one and two million displaced farmers and herders. Fleeing the wastelands, they hunkered down on the outskirts of Damascus, Aleppo, Homs, Hama, joining the ranks of proletarians seeking to find a living from construction work, taxi-driving, or any other, mostly unavailable, job. But they were not alone in feeling the heat. Due to the drought, the marketplaces of the country exhibited one of the central vectors of climatic influence on popular livelihoods: doubling, tripling, uncontrollably spiking food prices.

    What did the regime of Bashar al-Assad do when the people ate dust? The onset of the peak drought coincided almost exactly with a concerted push to renovate the foundation of the Syrian ruling class. After years of sclerosis, Assad and his closest accomplices resolved to nurture a fresh clique of private businessmen, encourage them to seize hold of large swathes of the economy and task them with launching a bonanza of accumulation. While the crops withered, real estate markets underwent fabulous booms, free trade zones opened up, investments poured in from the Gulf and Iran, luxury boutiques and fancy cafes sprang up in the centres of Damascus and Aleppo, a first car factory was constructed, plans were tabled for rebuilding the entire centre of Homs into a model of Dubai complete with golf courses and residential towers. One individual, Rami Makhlouf, owner of mobile phone operator SyriaTel and king of the crony capitalists, reputedly extended his tentacles into 60 per cent of the economy. In the countryside, the regime matched the dust bowl with a new law allowing landowners to expel their tenants. Subsidies on fuel and food were slashed. State farmlands ended up in the pockets of private entrepreneurs, water in the thirsty cotton plantations and other vain agribusiness projects. In Burning Country: Syrians in Revolution and War, Robin Yassin-Kassab and Leila al-Shami capture the scene after four years of extreme drought: ‘water shortages plagued the cities too – during the hot summer months the taps sometimes only flowed once a week in poorer areas, while the lawns of the rich remained lush and green.’

    And then Syria exploded. Starting in Dera’a – a town in the southern outpost of the agricultural heartland, nearly as heavily impacted by the drought as the northeast – the Syrian revolution stood out in the Arab Spring for having its basis outside the main city centres. The people who first dared to march, chanting against Assad and smashing the windows of SyriaTel, lived either in rural regions or in neighbourhoods on the peripheries of the cities, where large numbers of migrants had taken up residence. When the demonstrations morphed into civil war in 2012, the armed rebels streaming into the cities from their liberated villages found the most avid support precisely in those neighbourhoods, in a geographical pattern that has persisted ever since (witness eastern Ghouta or northern and eastern Aleppo). Looking back on one year of revolution in Jadaliyya, Suzanne Saleeby summed up the lingering effects of the drought: ‘In these recent months, Syrian cities have served as junctures where the grievances of displaced rural migrants and disenfranchised urban residents meet and come to question the very nature and distribution of power.’ Combined with a host of other sparks, climate change, it seems, had ignited the fuse.

    But to some activists and scholars, that thought is obnoxious. Francesca De Châtel has argued against ascribing any role in the Syrian crisis to the climate. To make her case, she must first brush aside all the signs that the pre-revolution drought was unprecedented and anthropogenic. Instead, she claims, it was but a routine episode in a country accustomed to dry weather, with no demonstrated ties to rising temperatures. Global warming poses no serious threat to Syria’s water resources – any scarcity is the regime’s own doing. Blaming fossil fuel combustion is to chime in with the Assad propaganda. The ‘role of climate change in this chain of events is not only irrelevant; it is also an unhelpful distraction,’ lending credence to the efforts of the regime to ‘blame external factors for its own failings.’ It remains to be investigated how revolutionaries on the ground perceive the situation, but it is not inconceivable that many of them would agree. We are fighting Assad and Makhlouf, not ExxonMobil or Chinese coal!

    And yet De Châtel’s argument is flawed in several respects. Firstly, it is premised on a sort of local climate denialism that cannot stand up against the overwhelming scientific evidence. Secondly, if we were to follow the principle that global warming should not be attributed any responsibility for miseries to which provincial exploiters and oppressors have also made contributions, then that planetary fire – and more precisely, the people who have lit it, maintained it, and pour fuel on it on a daily basis – would be very successfully exonerated. Thirdly, and most importantly, the marks of climate change on Syria’s fate by no means wipes Assad’s slate clean. Had the country been a perfect democracy, in which households shared resources equally and made sure to distribute water and food to those who suffered losses, the drought might still have caused stress and even widespread hunger, but it could not possibly have contributed to a revolution. That could only happen because the climatic impact was articulated through the social formation over which Assad presided – or more simply put, the drought could only push people toward rebellion because some lawns were perversely lush and green. Climate change does not take away any of the iniquities of the regime: it is constituted as a destabilizing force in relation to them.

    The Levant has seen a similar logic play out before. In The Climate of Rebellion in the Early Modern Ottoman Empire, Sam White tells the story of how that empire came close to falling apart in the early seventeenth century when a series of extraordinarily severe droughts crippled what is today eastern Turkey and Syria. The droughts were the result not of global warming, but of global cooling caused by the natural drop in solar radiation known as the Little Ice Age. Freezing dry winters killed off the crops and cattle of Anatolian and Levantine peasants – and how did the sultan respond? By levying heavier taxes on those peasants, forcing them to deliver greater quantities of grain, sheep and other provisions to the imperial capital and its armies. Just as famine spread on the plains, the centre moved to squeeze them ever harder, and it was this additional curse, White stresses, that tipped the hungry peasants into open revolt. Starting around the turn of the century, they attacked tax collectors, raided stores and set up military units, coalescing into the great armies of the Celali rebellion, whose territories at one point stretched from Ankara to Aleppo. The sultan eventually defeated the Celalis, but a cycle of drought–higher taxes–rebellion–greater deficits in provisioning–even higher taxes continued to roll through the Empire in the seventeenth century. In 1648, the sultan and his detested grand vizier were killed in a rare uprising in the heart of Istanbul, whose chronic problems of food supply, public health and low wages had been exacerbated by the massive influx of refugees from the desolated countryside: ‘when the people saw that the sultan’s favorites still had water while the mosques and fountains went dry, they rose up and forced out the grand vizier.’

    We can thus propose a first hypothesis for a Marxist theory of climate-induced social confrontation. ‘The specific economic form,’ Marx writes in the third volume of Capital, ‘in which unpaid surplus labour is pumped out of the direct producers determines the relationship of domination and servitude.’ Now if the direct producers experience a climatic shock that reduces their capacity to reproduce themselves, and if the pump continues to operate or even accelerates, sending ever more resources toward the top, chances are that the former will rise up. If they cannot command the clouds to open, at least they can break the pump that takes away what little they have left. These are the relations of domination and servitude through which the impact of climate change is fundamentally articulated. In the case of the Ottoman Empire, they ran along the axis of taxes pumped out of peasants and into the imperial capital, and the shock was of an entirely natural character. What can we expect in a capitalist world rapidly heating up because of fossil fuel combustion? Now the central pump would seem to be the extraction of surplus-value from productive labour. Is the shock felt at the bottom here, too?

    There are indications that a new bone of contention between classes is being formed. In the report Climate Change and Labour: Impacts of Heat in the Workplace, several union federations and UN branches draw attention to what might be the most universal and the most widely ignored experience of global warming: it’s getting hotter at work. Physical labour makes the body warm. If it takes place under the sun or inside facilities without advanced air-conditioning systems, excessively high temperatures will make the sweat flow more profusely and the bodily powers sag, until the worker suffers heat exhaustion or worse. This will not be an ordeal for the average software developer or financial adviser. But for people who pick vegetables, build skyscrapers, pave roads, drive buses, sew clothes in poorly ventilated factories or mend cars in slum workshops, it already is; and the bulk of exceptionally hot working days are now anthropogenic in nature. With every little rise in average temperatures on Earth, thermal conditions in millions of workplaces around the world shift further, primarily in the tropical and subtropical regions where the majority of the working population – some four billion people – live their days. For every degree, a greater chunk of output will be lost, estimated to reach more than a third of total production after four degrees: in this heat, workers simply cannot keep up the same pace. Or can they? Here is a source of any number of clashes, since workers will have to slow down and take long breaks, while capitalists and their representatives – if their entire past is anything to go by – will demand that production be maintained (and preferably sped up). In a hotter capitalist world, the pump can only extract the same amount of surplus-value by squeezing the last drop of sweat out of workers, but on the other side of some locally determined tipping point, that might not be sustainable.

    A workers’ revolution to win rest in the shade? Probably not. If the conflict between the victims of drought and the insatiable sultan of the Ottoman Empire was straightforward enough, the equivalents in the twenty-first century look set to be rather more complex. Extraction of surplus-value may still be the central pump, but the most explosive impacts of climate change will scarcely be transmitted in any straight line along its axis. If there is one overarching logic of the capitalist mode of production through which rising temperatures will be articulated, it is probably rather that of uneven and combined development. Capital expands by pulling other relations into its orbit; as it continues to accumulate, people stuck in those external-but-internalized relations – think of herders in north-eastern Syria – will enjoy few if any of the benefits, and might not even come close to the threshold of wage-labour. Some amass resources, while others, outside the pump but inside the orbit, struggle to get a chance to produce them. If a catastrophe descends on such a society – deeply divided and deeply integrated – chances are that it starts breaking apart along some of the cracks. The Syrian revolution might indeed be a template in this regard.

    Incidentally, uneven and combined development plus catastrophe was also the equation that touched off the Russian revolution. The catastrophe in question was, of course, the First World War, which caused the entire food supply system of Tsarist Russia to crash. To make matters worse, heavy floods in the spring of 1917 washed away roads and railway lines and blocked further procurements. On 8 March – the story is well-known, but now casts a new light on the future – the women workers of Petrograd went on strike and marched through the streets, demanding bread from a duma incapable of delivering it. Soon they called for the fall of the Tsar. The crisis took a new plunge in August 1917, when grain prices suddenly doubled and Petrograd faced the challenge of surviving without any flour. ‘Famine, genuine famine,’ one government official described the situation, ‘has seized a series of towns and provinces – famines vividly expressed by an absolute insufficiency of objects of nutrition already leading to death.’ It was at this moment that Lenin penned what is arguably his key text from 1917, The Impending Catastrophe and How to Combat It, in which he made the case for a second revolution as the only way to avert total nationwide famine. In his internal and external agitation, this was his stock argument for striking the October blow:

    There is no escaping the famine, and there can be none except by an uprising of the peasants against the landowners in the countryside, and by a victory of the workers over the capitalists in the cities. … ‘In insurrection delay is fatal’ – this is our answer to those having the sad ‘courage’ to look at the growing economic ruin, at the approaching famine, and still dissuade the workers from the uprising.

    The Pentagon refers to climate change as a ‘threat multiplier.’ Lenin spoke of the catastrophe of his time as a ‘mighty accelerator’ bringing all contradictions to a head, ‘engendering world-wide crises of unparalleled intensity,’ driving nations ‘to the brink of doom.’ His wager was, of course, to seize the unique opportunity thereby opened up. That did not diminish his hostility to the war – it had no more implacable enemies than the Bolsheviks – but he saw in all its miseries the most compelling reasons to take power, and nothing worked as effectively to rally the workers behind him. Climate change is likely to be the accelerator of the twenty-first century, speeding up the contradictions of late capitalism – above all the growing chasm between the evergreen lawns of the rich and the precariousness of propertyless existence – and expedite one local catastrophe after another. What should revolutionaries do when it hits their turf? Seize the opportunity to depose any exploiters and oppressors they can get their hands on. But there is, needless to say, no guarantee of a happy outcome.

    Counter-Revolution and Chaos as Symptoms

    Acute shortages of food and water are poised to become some of the most tangible effects of global warming. In the run-up to the Tunisian and Egyptian revolutions, rising food prices partly caused by extreme weather intensified the latent tensions, and the Middle East – so far the revolutionary cauldron of the century – can expect more to come. No region is as prone to water scarcity, and none as vulnerable to ‘tele-connected food supply shocks,’ or harvest failures in distant breadbaskets driving up prices of the imports on which the population depends. In revolutionary Russia, the supply shock originally stemmed from the blockades and demands of the First World War and then multiplied across the vast territory; for the Bolsheviks, it was as much a curse as a blessing. In his remarkable study, Bread and Authority in Russia, 1914–1921, Lars T. Lih shows how the dearth of food not only propelled them to power, but prompted them to develop the authoritarian tendencies that would later devour them.

    Moreover, those tendencies were in full swing already before October. The Tsarist state itself took the first steps toward a ‘food-supply dictatorship,’ in which the state applies coercion to enforce the delivery of food to starving citizens. ‘The food-supply question has swallowed up all other questions,’ one government employee observed in the autumn of 1916, and ‘as economic anarchy has spread, all the deeper is the process of penetration of the state principle into all aspects of the economic existence of the country.’ The Provisional Government continued on the same track – all political currents save the anarchists agreed on the necessity of strict centralised control to bring forth the grain – but proved utterly unequal to the task. The Bolsheviks turned out to be the sole party disciplined and hard-hitting enough to reconstitute the centre and reign in the centrifugal forces. But to succeed in their efforts, they had to ditch any ideological doubts about the state and make maximum use of the remaining scaffoldings of the Tsarist bureaucracy. The problem was that they had promised ‘all power to the Soviets.’ According to a logic Lih reconstructs in painful detail, genuinely self-governing soviets (and communes and factory committees) had the interests of their own constituencies closest to heart: in the countryside, they held back grain from the cities; in the cities, they sent volunteers to the countryside to collect whatever could be found and distribute it to their members. The experiment in direct democracy the Bolsheviks had done so much to encourage merely deepened the chaos in the food system – the one plague they had vowed to eradicate. Locked into this contradiction, they opted for subjugating the soviets to the party, shooting suspected hoarders, stationing agents in the villages to surveil the peasants, setting the whole train of bureaucratic control in motion.

    But the choice – this is Lih’s main point – was forced upon the Bolsheviks by the situation. Exacerbated by first civil war and then drought, the scarcities seemed to allow for no other general course of action than a food-supply dictatorship, to which the vast majority of Russians eventually resigned themselves, preferring some stability and food on the table to the endless deprivation and uncertainty of the revolutionary years. Here the seeds of Stalinist counter-revolution were sown. Paradoxically, in Lih’s analysis, they sprang from a remarkable feat: precisely because they were so ruthless and consistent in their centralization of the food system, the Bolsheviks did avert total breakdown. In a formulation now pregnant with meaning, Lih sums up his view of their young state: ‘a Noah hastily constructing a small ark against imminent disaster.’

    Now if very many more disasters are imminent, and if they will trigger revolutions, will they also trigger counter-revolutions in the shape of rough beasts and bloated bureaucracies (claiming to be) indispensable for containing the hardships? It is too early to tell, of course. One hint at such a scenario, however, may be abstracted from the military coup that ended the Egyptian revolution. In the final days of the Morsi regime, the ‘deep state’ orchestrated massive shortages of fuel and food and rolling blackouts, sapping the support for the democratically elected president and prodding millions to take to the streets against him. After the coup of 3 July 2013, those deficiencies miraculously disappeared overnight; the Sisi junta took full credit and won stomachs and minds across the country. This episode obviously has no link to any impacts of climate change, but it points to a political logic that might conceivably reappear when they bite deeper: a strong leader poses as the sole guarantor of a minimum of stable supplies and monopolizes power. That would not necessarily have to wait for a revolution to materialize; it could be stimulated by the scarcities as such.

    The broader danger lurking here might be labelled ecological fascism. It has few adherents so far, but they do exist: in The Climate Challenge and the Failure of Democracy, Australian scholars David Shearman and Joseph Wayne Smith reject the Marxist contention that capitalism is the source of global warming and assigns all the blame to democracy. Now is the time to realise that ‘freedom is not the most fundamental value and is merely one value among others. Survival strikes us as a much more basic value.’ As climate change puts the survival of the human species in question, it has to rediscover its true nature: rigid hierarchy. ‘The human brain is hard-wired for authoritarianism, for dominance, and submission’ (just look at the apes). More precisely, Shearman and Smith advocate a fusion of feudalism and the one-party state – but without any planned economy – headed by ‘an altruistic, able, authoritarian leader, versed in science and personal skills,’ backed up by a class of ‘philosopher kings or ecoelites’ trained since childhood – ‘as in Sparta’ – to steer the world through the heat. (We also learn that female brains are geared toward children, that ‘black rap songs’ expressing ‘desires to murder white people’ should be banned, and that Islam is demographically torpedoing the Western world.) Such lunacy has not yet found much of an audience. But when survival really starts hanging in the balance, one cannot exclude the scenario that it gains traction; indeed, climate change has already brought some lunatic ideas of once-despised mavericks to the fore (notably geoengineering).

    If ecological fascism could be an explicit ideological trend for a very warm future, another possibility is nihilistic, opportunistic, even racist violence: in the drying Ottoman Empire, Sam White records, the Celalis professed no particular political or religious conviction. They merely plundered their way through the ruined landscape. A particular stronghold of theirs was the city of Raqqa: epicentre of the recent drought, capital of the faux caliphate of Daesh. White reports that the droughts fanned the flames of fundamentalist revivals among the various sects of the Empire. In the endless bread queues of revolutionary Russia, rumours of Jews stockpiling and speculating on grain spread like wildfire; the step from the closed bakery to the pogrom remained short. In 1917, Lenin measured the ‘mood of despair among the broad masses’ and prophesied that ‘the hungry will “smash everything, destroy everything, even anarchically.” if the Bolsheviks are not able to lead them in a decisive battle.’ The anti-Semitic Black Hundreds waited for the Russians to swing behind them, and Lenin saw objective tendencies working in their favour. ‘Can one imagine a capitalist society on the eve of collapse in which the oppressed masses are not desperate? Is there any doubt that the desperation of the masses, a large part of whom are still ignorant, will express itself in the increased consumption of all sorts of poison?’

    Celalis, Daesh, Black Hundreds: Christian Parenti has offered a similar prognosis in his Tropic of Chaos: Climate Change and the New Geography of Violence. ‘Damaged societies, like damaged people, often respond to new crisis in ways that are irrational, shortsighted, and self-destructive,’ and the societies of this world – particularly those ravaged by colonialism, Cold War counterinsurgency, wars against terror, neoliberal restructuring – are nothing if not damaged. We can anticipate a ‘slide toward entropy and chaos,’ ‘intercommunal strife, brigandry,’ the undoing of the modern state – which might, of course, flip over into its opposite and resurrect some green-brown Sparta. What about those who can insulate themselves against the heat with any amount of air conditioning? As the most likely protection of their material interests, Parenti foresees a ‘politics of the armed lifeboat’ or ‘climate fascism,’ by which the ruling classes continue on their present course and mercilessly keep their victims at bay with walls, drones and detention centers. One genocide scholar has recently gone one step further and warned that the expected flows of climate refugees toward the North will revive ‘the genocidal impulse,’ a scenario possibly gaining some plausibility from the circumstance that one of the greatest flows will likely consist of people from Muslim-majority countries heading toward a European continent thoroughly infected with Islamophobia. That could be another form of articulation. As such, however, it would be the outcome of relations shaped in struggle. Revolutionaries in a warmer world would then have to be as much vigilant and militant anti-fascists. We might be living not right after, but at the very dawn of the age of extremes.

    Revolution for Treating the Symptoms

    So far we have two configurations, then, although the line between them may be difficult to draw: revolution and/or counter-revolution/chaos as symptoms of climate change. One might take a leaf from meteorology to conceptualize this symptomaticity. Climate scientists often speak of how rising temperatures ‘load the dice’ in favor of extreme weather events: a superstorm could have happened in the eighteenth century, but all the carbon dioxide accumulated in the atmosphere since then has filled the weather systems with material, such as hot and high sea surfaces, that works like an extra weight at number six, making a deadly hurricane dramatically more likely. The type of extreme social events on which we have speculated here can evidently also happen without anthropogenic climate change, but that novel mega-weight inside all planetary systems now seem to push things in such directions. If all of this sounds surreally extreme, consult state-of-the-art climate science. The shattering of the material foundations on which human existence stands really will be fatal if global warming rolls on, it tells us, and it reports on a monthly basis on how much faster the process unfolds than first predicted.

    In January 2016, the average temperature on Earth was 1.15°C higher than for the period 1951-1980. It was a record jump instantly beaten by February, which reached 1.35°C. By then the planet stood right on the threshold to a 1.5°C warming above pre-industrial levels, identified by world leaders congregating in Paris for COP21 in December 2015 as the limit that should not be crossed (although a more common marker for the shift from already dangerous to extremely dangerous climate change is still 2°C). When might that be attained? Fresh results suggest it could happen sooner rather than later: in clouds, for instance, ice crystals reflect more sunlight back to space than do liquid droplets, but climate models have vastly underestimated the share of the latter, missing a considerable extra warming effect already in the pipelines. Others have revised the estimate of how much temperatures would increase if all proven fossil fuel reserves were burnt. Using conservative figures, excluding any future discoveries and deposits made available by new technologies, Katarzyna Takorska and her colleagues place the effect in the ballpark of 8°C – hitting 17°C in the Arctic – rather than the previously believed 5°C. Converted into actual conditions for life on Earth, those average eight degrees would, of course, spell the end of all stories. This will not happen tomorrow, but it now marks the general direction of late capitalist history. Anyone who wishes to dispute the forecast that the ensuing dislocations will usher in an age of political extremes would need to build a case for the astounding stoicism of the human species, or for its utter detachment from what happens inside ecosystems. However that case might look, it would certainly not be materialist.

    But there is the possibility for cushioning against some impacts. Consider the case of Syria. Most agriculture in that country still relies on flood irrigation – peasants opening channels and flushing water through their fields – which might have been an adequate method in the days of old, but not in this dry era. Shifting to drip irrigation is imperative, so as to save or make optimal use of every valuable drop of water. A state attuned to the needs of poor farmers and willing to provide them with the basic productive forces could make it happen, but the Assad regime has instituted water policies sucking the land dry. In Egypt, the rising Mediterranean pushes saltwater ever deeper into the clayey soil of the Nile Delta. To save their crops from being killed, farmers try to ‘elevate’ fields by applying enormous amounts of sand and fertilisers, but only the richest farmers can afford such measures of adaptation. Along the coastlines, storm surges are growing in frequency and strength, but sea walls and other buffer systems are primarily built in front of resort towns, while communities of fisherfolk and farmers are left unprotected. The Egyptian revolution represented an opportunity to fill such cracks in the armour and move toward comprehensive, popular adaptation to climate change. It would be an understatement to say that it was missed.

    Here, then, can be discerned the contours of a third hypothetical configuration: revolution to treat the symptoms of global warming. The Syrian and Egyptian cases are no outliers. Surveys have found that the day-to-day processes of capital accumulation – enclosures, commodification, planning for real estate, centralization of resources – heavily distort most adaptation projects around the world, leaving precisely the most vulnerable people without cushions. But ‘in revolutionary times the limits of what is possible expand a thousandfold,’ recalling Lenin. If social relations block the way to effective pro-poor adaptation, they ought to be overhauled. Here is one more reason to seize every opportunity catastrophes open up. Unlike the two previous configurations, this one would presuppose revolutionaries who consciously act against the impacts of climate change on the terrain over which they can wield influence. But that influence will by nature be constrained.

    Revolution Against the Causes

    Adaptation to three, four, not to speak of eight degrees is bound to be a futile endeavour. No matter how advanced the sprinklers Syrian farmers install, irrigation requires water. No walls can save the Nile Delta from the underground infiltration of the sea. No one can perform any kind of physical labour when temperatures settle above a certain level, and so on. But the proven fossil fuel reserves can be kept in the ground. Emissions can be slashed to zero. ‘Everybody says this. Everybody admits this. Everybody has decided it is so. Yet nothing is being done,’ and this is the rationale for the most exigent type of revolution, the one that, in full consciousness of the roots of the problem, wages a full-scale onslaught on fossil capital, just as the Bolsheviks set themselves the task of putting ‘an immediate end to the war,’ insisting that ‘it is clear to everybody that in order to end this war, which is closely bound up with the present capitalist system, capital itself must be fought.’ This is the moment to read the Lenin of 1917 anew and salvage the kernel of the Bolshevik project:

    We can draw, perhaps, the most striking comparison of all between reactionary-bureaucratic methods of combating a catastrophe, which are confined to minimum reforms, and revolutionary-democratic methods, which, to justify their name, must directly aim at a violent rupture with the old, obsolete system and at the achievement of the speediest possible progress …

    – speed here being the critical dimension. The dawdling bourgeoisie, meanwhile, ‘as always, are guided by the rule: “Après nous le deluge.”’ Policies that would save millions or even billions of lives could be put in place, if only the obstructing interests were removed. ‘The ways of combating catastrophe and famine are available, the measures required to combat them are quite clear, simple, perfectly feasible, and fully within reach of the people’s forces.’ We could begin by updating the Communist Manifesto and list ten:

    1. Enforce a complete moratorium on all new facilities for extracting coal, oil or natural gas.
    2. Close down all power-plants running on such fuels.
    3. Draw 100 per cent of electricity from non-fossil sources, primarily wind and solar.
    4. Terminate the expansion of air, sea and road travel; convert road and sea travel to electricity and wind; ration remaining air travel to ensure a fair distribution until it can be completely replaced with other means of transport.
    5. Expand mass transit systems on all scales, from subways to intercontinental high-speed trains.
    6. Limit the shipping and flying of food and systematically promote local supplies.
    7. End the burning of tropical forests and initiate massive programmes for reforestation.
    8. Refurbish old buildings with insulation and require all new ones to generate their own zero-carbon power.
    9. Dismantle the meat industry and move human protein requirements toward vegetable sources.
    10. Pour public investment into the development and diffusion of the most efficient and sustainable renewable energy technologies, as well as technologies for carbon dioxide removal.

    That would be a start – nothing more – yet it would probably amount to a revolution, not only in the forces of production but also in the social relations in which they are so deeply enmeshed. Just how thoroughly the phenomenon of CO2 emissions is bound up with class society has recently been highlighted by two striking reports. One tenth of the human species accounts for half of all present emissions from consumption, half of the species for one tenth. The richest 1 per cent have a carbon footprint some 175 times that of the poorest 10 per cent; the emissions of the richest 1 per cent of Americans, Luxembourgians and Saudi Arabians are two thousand times larger than those of the poorest Hondurans, Mozambicans or Rwandans. Shares of the CO2 accumulated since 1820 are similarly skewed. Some ecological class hatred is certainly warranted, and then we have not even mentioned the hard inner core of fossil capital, the Rex Tillersons of this world, the billionaires who swim in money from pulling fossil fuels out of the ground and selling the fuel for the fires. Make no mistake: this revolution would have its fair share of enemies.

    Who shall execute it? Who are the Petrograd metalworkers and the Kronstadt sailors of the climate revolution? Look at the country that tops a survey of the populations most worried about global warming: Burkina Faso, currently devastated by declining rains and magnified sandstorms, topping the list of African nations suffering from excessively hot working days. Can a farmer from Burkina Faso storm the Winter Palaces of fossil capital – can she even catch sight of them in her lifetime, or are the headquarters of ExxonMobil in Texas and the glittering towers of Dubai so distant as to be utterly beyond her reach, let alone her and her peers’ capacity for effective revolutionary action? It would probably be as easy to gain mass support for the above program in Burkina Faso as it would be hard to implement it from there.

    Precisely the abysmal divides within the species – belying the talk of the ‘Anthropocene,’ of humanity in general as responsible, of ‘us all’ as the enemy – may prove the greatest obstacle to attacking the causes of catastrophe: the victims of the systematic violence known as fossil fuel combustion may simply be too far away from the perpetrators to topple them. ‘Revolutions-as-symptoms’ target exploiters and oppressors in the immediate vicinity and so are not hard to imagine when some lives become unbearable, but ‘revolutions-against-the-causes’ must, if they are to be launched by the classes most concerned, travel across the globe. Uprisings then seem likely to continue targeting nearby Makhloufs rather than faraway Tillersons. Put differently, the spontaneous formation of trade-union consciousness in a warming world – a basic prerequisite for any kind of October thrust – looks like a very uncertain prospect. It is otherwise with, for instance, oil exploration – when a corporation intrudes on a people’s ancestral homeland to drill for the fuel, the antagonism is in your face and resistance comes naturally – but global warming as such can slaughter millions from within a castle never seen and, alas, hard to raid.

    This appears to be the fundamental strategic conundrum for the struggle against climate change. The most promising vision for breaking out of it has been formulated (although not in such terms) by Naomi Klein in This Changes Everything: Capitalism vs. the Climate. Short-circuiting the distance problem, she argues that, since present-day capitalism is so saturated with fossil energy, more or less everyone involved in some social movement under its rule is objectively fighting global warming, whether or not she or he cares about it or suffers its consequences. Brazilians protesting fare hikes and demanding free public transit all but raise the banner of the fifth measure in the list above, while the Ogoni people kicking out Shell are busy working on the first. Similarly, European auto-workers fighting for their jobs, in accordance with the kind of trade-union consciousness they have always possessed, have an interest in converting their factories to the production of technologies required for the transition away from fossil fuels – wind turbines, buses – rather than seeing them disappear to some low-wage destination. All struggles are struggles against fossil capital: the subjects only need to be made aware of it. In Klein’s words, ‘the environmental crisis – if conceived sufficiently broadly – neither trumps nor distracts from our most pressing political and economic causes: it supercharges each one of them with existential urgency.’ This formula has the added appeal of making the broadest possible alliance conceivable. Clearly, nothing less will be needed in this struggle.

    It remains to be seen if this is a solution that can substitute for the absence of immediately victimized strike forces. So far in a warming world, the position analogous to the Palestinians fighting Zionist occupation or to factory workers striking against speed-ups has been vacant – not in-itself (the expelled and sweated are there) but for-itself (they are not actively combating their enemies) – and so far, that absence has stifled the outbreak of explicit climatic unrest on a scale commensurate to the problem. What we do have is a fledgling climate movement. In any alliance drawing in the full spectrum of social movements to take down fossil capital, this one will have to be the linchpin. It has some compelling arguments to make, along the lines of the slogan ‘there are no jobs on a dead planet’: whatever else you are clamoring for presupposes a reasonably stable climate, and even if the desert sands do not encroach on your doorstep in this particular moment, be sure some impact or other is on its way. If the German worker shrugs his shoulder at the condition of the farmer in Burkina Faso, or in optimist fashion comforts himself with the thought than in Germany things are not nearly so bad, the climate movement can tell him: ‘De te fabula narratur.’ This movement collects and crystallizes the insights that Syria cannot survive the disappearance of the Fertile Crescent, or Egypt a three meter sea level rise, or Burkina Faso four degrees of warming; it articulates the interests of their most vulnerable masses even if only on behalf of them. Yes, there is here, for structural reasons yet to be overcome, a component of what classical Marxists would have called substitutionism and voluntarism.

    This movement has scored a number of noteworthy victories of late. The shelving of the Keystone XL pipeline, the retreat of Shell from the Arctic, the spiraling divestment campaign, the cancellation of coal projects from Oregon to Orissa have been added in rapid succession to its vita. The movement further raised its profile with the Break Free campaign in May 2016, the largest coordinated wave of direct action against fossil fuel extraction so far, stretching from the Philippines to Wales, New Zealand to Ecuador. The centrepiece of the campaign was the camp known as Ende Gelände, erected a stone’s throw from Schwarze Pumpe, ‘the black pump,’ a power-plant in the German region of Lusatia running on lignite coal – dirtiest of all fossil fuels – extracted from an adjacent mega-mine, and one of the largest point-sources of CO2 emissions in Europe. The various quarters of the sprawling tent camp were named after distant low-lying island nations: Kiribati, Tuvalu, the Maldives. On Friday 13 May 2016, the multi-pronged offensive against Schwarze Pumpe was set off when some one thousand activists – the camp would attract nearly four thousand – descended into the mine, seized the gargantuan digging machines and settled in for the weekend. On Saturday morning, there were even more occupying the railway lines that bring the coal to the black pump. A brief incursion into the compound of the power plant itself provoked the outnumbered police to hit back indiscriminately with pepper spray, baton wielding and arrests, but the blockades held until on Sunday morning the owners declared that climate activists had forced them to suspend all electricity production. That had never before happened in central Europe.

    The background to the action is instructive. In the parliamentary elections in Sweden in 2014, Gustav Fridolin, leader of the Green Party, kept a piece of coal in his pocket. Wherever he went, in every speech and televised debate, he waved that piece of coal and promised, stern determination in his voice, to take the hands of the Swedish state off the fuel. Deep inside the pits of eastern Germany, those hands have long sullied the self-image of Sweden as a föregångsland or ‘pioneering country’ in climate politics, since the state-owned corporation Vattenfall owns and operates Schwarze Pumpe and four other lignite complexes of the same volcanic size. By the time of the election, the Swedish state produced CO2 emissions from these assets equal to all emissions from its own territory plus a third. Now, Fridolin declared, was the time to liquidate them and put a lid on the coal in the ground. If the Greens entered the government, the single most important promise of their election campaign would be to make sure that Vattenfall closed its German mines and plants. Two years later, they were no longer in Swedish hands. They had been sold to a consortium of capitalists from the Czech republic – including its richest man – craving more resources for the lignite renaissance currently sweeping out from their corner of the continent. The Greens, in other words, resolved to throw some of the greatest lignite riches straight into the mouth of fossil capital. That decision contributed to the worst crisis in the history of the party – probably the most influential of its kind in the world – and hence one of the worst in the history of reformist parliamentary environmentalism. To cap the debasement, Fridolin, on behalf of the Swedish government, denounced the Ende Gelände action as ‘illegal.’

    In any science-based reality, Ende Gelände is the type of action that should be repeated and scaled up a thousandfold. Inside the advanced capitalist countries and the most developed zones of the rest, there is no shortage of appropriate targets: just look around for the closest coal-fired power plant, pipeline, SUV, expanding airport, growing suburban shopping mall, and so many others. That is the terrain on which a revolutionary climate movement should trespass in one great accelerating surge. Obviously, it is still very far from such size and capacity. Perhaps some extreme weather event of truly traumatic proportions could catalyze a leap. Even then, however, as the Vattenfall story makes clear, direct action in itself would solve nothing: there have to be decisions and decrees from the state – or, in other words, the state must be wrested from all the Tillersons and Fridolins of this world for any transitional program like the one sketched above to be realized. In the post-1989 ideological hangover that still affects the activist milieus making up the climate movement in the North, however, there lingers a fetishization of horizontal direct action as a self-sufficient tactic and a reluctance to consider Lenin’s lesson: ‘The key question of every revolution is undoubtedly the question of state power.’ Rarely if ever has it been more important to heed that lesson than now.

    Can the climate movement grow by several orders of magnitude, gather progressive forces around it and develop some viable strategy for projecting its aims through the state – all within a relevant time frame in this rapidly warming world? It is a tall order, to say the least. But in the words of Daniel Bensaïd, perhaps the most brilliant theorist of revolutionary strategy in the late twentieth century, ‘any doubt bears on the possibility of succeeding, not on the necessity of trying.’

    This article originally appeared in Socialist Register 2017.

  • Nicaragua: Where Is The Rebellion Going?

    ImageThe popular rebellion against the dictatorial government of Daniel Ortega, four-time president of Nicaragua, has been going on now for more than a month. And the Ortega government has continued its violent repression. In the last 47 days, it is reported that 104 people have been killed, while some have been arrested or tortured and others have gone missing. In one of the most atrocious events, government snipers fired on the May 30 “Mothers March” led by mothers mourning the murder of their children. Fifteen marchers were killed and scores wounded.

    While students throughout the country have played the leading role in the rebellion, farmers, environmentalists, and women’s organizations have also been involved. Protest marches by the Nicaraguan people demanding “Peace and Justice”—defined as an end to government violence against the students and the resignation of Ortega—have reached huge proportions, from tens of thousands on numerous occasions to some 500,000—the largest demonstration in Central American history—for the Mothers March. Several groups have now taken up the call for a paro, a national civic strike.

    As I have explained in my book What Went Wrong? The Nicaraguan Revolution: A Marxist Analysis (summarized in a recent article), Daniel Ortega began forming alliances with the Nicaraguan business class and with conservative and corrupt politicians after he was voted out of power in 1990. He formed alliance with rightwing governments and eventually succeeded in returning to power as president. Over the next nearly thirty years he became a dictator, making his wife his vice-president and controlling all branches of the government. Now there is a massive popular rebellion against the Ortega dictatorship. I ask here now: What is this rebellion and where is it going? What should be our attitude toward it as Americans on the left?

    A Popular Uprising

    The current protest movement in Nicaragua clearly has the characteristics of a popular uprising. The movement has its origiins in 2012 when Nicaraguan indigenous peoples, farmers, and environmentalists brought lawsuits against the government’s plan to build a transoceanic canal, a project that could have devastating ecological consequences. When the lawsuits failed, those groups began to organize peaceful protests in both urban and rural areas. While most of these numbered in the hundreds, they sometimes involved thousands. Ortega’s police and sometimes his Sandinista National Liberation Front (FSLN) party and its youth group’s violent armed gangs called turbas attacked the peaceful demonstrators.

    When in mid-April the Ortega government announced an increase in taxes for workers’ pensions accompanied by a cut in pension benefits, there was a widespread reaction against the reforms. Students at the country’s major universities protested, but when attacked returned to their campuses and occupied them. All of the major universities—UNA, UCA, UNI, UPOLI, and UNAN, which enroll some about 100,000 altogether—were shut down and occupied. When the students again marched out to protest peacefully, police and turbas attacked the students while sharpshooters in strategic locations shot and killed some of the protestors. Such government-ordered killings, documented by Nicaraguan and international human rights groups, by the country’s newspapers, and by social media – have gone on day after day in Managua and in other cities and towns.[1]

    The killings horrified the Nicaraguan people, and a protest movement spread throughout the country. The Catholic Church, business organizations, and some of the students called for negotiations between Ortega and the opposition, but Ortega failed to bargain in good faith and the opposition became increasingly intransigent in its demand for his resignation. With the suspension of the dialogue, protests resumed and so did government violence. The Church then organized marches calling for Peace and Justice that were joined by tens of thousands, but they brought neither of those objectives.

    At the moment, things are extremely tense. The protestors have established nearly 60 roadblocks throughout the country that have virtually stopped the national economy. In Managua, there is a kind of defacto curfew of 6 p.m. to 6 a.m., because of fear of the FSLN youth group and its thugs. Jesuit Father José Alberto Idiáquez, the rector of the Central American University (UCA) in Managua, who had supported the student protestors, has received death threats for his participation in the dialogue.[2] Monseñor Silvio José Báez, the auxiliary bishop of Managua, who has joined the protest movement’s marches, has been the victim of a campaign of vilification because of his criticism of the Ortega government’s violent repression. The cities of Masaya and of Granada have been assaulted by the police and by armed gangs, public buildings and markets have been burned. The police and gangsters continue to murder students.

    Government Claims of Anti-Imperialism and Foreign Intervention

    The Ortega government has declared that the U.S. Central Intelligence Agency is behind the protests, working with the Sandinista Renovation Movement (MRS), a dissident group that split from the Sandinistas in 1994. This narrative has been taken up by the Cuban government, Venezuelan teleSur news, and by Russian Television (RT). While Latin Americans have every reason to be suspicious of and to fear U.S. intervention in their countries, the popular revolt grew up in Nicaragua among ordinary people concerned about their farms and environment, the social welfare system and women’s rights, as well as other issues, and became an anti-government rebellion only when confronted by violent repression against peaceful protestors. This was not a foreign-instigated movement, despite the usual charges of meddling by outside agitators. There is no doubt that the U.S. government will attempt to take advantage of the situation to promote its own agenda, but that does not undermine in any way what began as and continues to be an independent movement.

    We should note that while the Ortega government has been an ally of Cuba, Venezuela, and Bolivia and has portrayed itself as anti-imperialist, there has been little or nothing that is truly anti-imperialist about its policies and practices. Ortega’s Nicaragua has been deeply involved with the United States government and U.S. business for decades and has cooperated with the United States in many areas: economic, political, and even in terms of policing and the military. Economic domination is, of course, at the heart of the theory of imperialism. As the U.S. State Department’s “Nicaragua Page” notes: “The United States is the dominant economic partner for Nicaragua, buying 51 percent of Nicaraguan exports, supplying 32 percent of its imports, providing 20 percent of investment, sending 54 percent of its remittances, and being the origin of 19 percent of its tourists, according to 2017 figures.” [3]

    One could argue that such trade is inevitable, given Nicaragua’s small size and location and the dominant role of the United States in North America and throughout the hemisphere. Be that as it may, trade and investment are essential features of imperialism. Ortega has certainly encouraged U.S. investment, including promotion of Free Trade Zones and maquiladora plants that represent a substantial part of the country’s exports, based on workers’ low wages. Ortega has worked to prevent strikes and to block the organization of independent labor unions. U.S. and other foreign direct investment currently amounts to 6 percent of GDP.

    The law to promote foreign investment (Ley de Promoción de Inversiones Extranjeras), in force since 2000, allows foreign investors in all sectors to hold 100% of capital in businesses. It guarantees the repatriation of capital and profits at any time, as well as fast and efficient compensations if the investor's property is expropriated on the grounds of public interest. The same law also allows investors to choose their arbitration tribunal in case of conflict.[4]

    Because of laws like these both the Nicaragua capitalist class and U.S. and other foreign investors have been quite satisfied with Daniel Ortega since he came to power.

    U.S. trade has been complemented by U.S. aid. Nicaragua has long been dependent on the United States for economic assistance, receiving billions in economic aid over the last several decades.[5] The U.S. has also provided medical aid at times.[6] The Nicaraguan government has entered into relations with U.S. police agencies as well. The US Drug Enforcement Agency opened an office in Managua in 1997 and the DEA has for many years regularly met with Nicaraguan military and police agencies. Just in March of this year there was a meeting between the Nicaraguan Army and the DEA to discuss their common strategy. The U.S. government has also provided millions of dollars in aid to the Nicaraguan Navy for drug interdiction,[7] and millions in general military aid as well until 2005.[8] When U.S. military aid ceased, Ortega’s government turned to the Russian dictator Vladimir Putin for military assistance, and got it.[9] For Ortega, one imperial power is as good as another as long as he stays in power. (One has to find it ironic that the government of a small nation like Nicaragua, which for so long had to resist U.S. imperialism, would ally with Russia, which seized the Crimea and has intervened in the Eastern Ukraine and Syria.)

    The point is that there was not and is not anything “anti-imperialist” about Ortega’s government, which despite its rhetoric has maintained strong economic and police ties to the United States. Far from being anti-imperialist or anti-United States, Nicaragua has never stopped being part of the American imperial system in Latin America.

    Who Leads the Opposition Movement?

    We should not be surprised that in a country that effectively has had one-party rule by the Sandinista Front for National Liberation (FSLN), which retained considerable prestige for leading the overthrow of the Somoza dictatorship in 1979, and where that party has controlled social organizations and labor unions, that there has been little opportunity for an effective left opposition to arise. To this should be added the government’s long-standing practice of harassing and sometimes physically attacking rival political parties during election periods. The combination of political monopoly and repression created an atmosphere that has inhibited a healthy, democratic political life and especially made difficult the creation of strong opposition groups on the left.

    There are a variety of political parties in Nicaragua, but those on the left have failed to find a base, while those on the right have long been utterly corrupt. Two splits from the FSLN, the Sandinista Renovation Movement (MRS), and the Movement for the Rescue of Sandinismo (MPRS), did attempt to build a left opposition. The novelist Sergio Ramírez and the former comandante Dora María Tellez created the social democratic MRS in 1994, supported by virtually all of the FSLN’s legislators at the time. The MRS, however, never succeeded in building a mass base among the country’s working people. In 2005, Herty Lewites ran for president and gained significant support, but died suddenly of a heart attack in 2006. The party that Lewites and Victor Tirado had established in 2005, the MPRS, failed to take off and became marginal. Both MRS and MPRS continued throughout the 2000s and 2010s to criticize Ortega and the FSLN government, but they never grew into significant organizations. The Christian Alternative, inspired by the Theology of Liberation, also failed. Other small left parties, Communist, Trotskyist, and Maoist, had small followings and no impact.

    Nicaragua’s two major conservative opposition parties—the Constitutional Liberal Party and the Independeont Liberal Party—proved capable of building a following and winning elections, but only because they had made political deals with Ortega. However, over time Ortega’s FSLN became the dominant conservative party and won support from Nicaragua’s bankers and business owners and the hierarchy of the Catholic Church. The Nicaraguan bourgeoisie, finding that Ortega supported its agenda, felt no need to throw its support to opposition political parties. So as this crisis has emerged and developed, there is no political party on the left to provide leadership to the movement, and the remnants of the surviving conservative parties have been utterly corrupted by Ortega and the FSLN as well as their own avarice and lack of scruples.

    The Dominant Social Forces under Ortega

    Ortega and the FSLN have long had a policy of dominating or destroying the country’s popular social organizations. In the revolutionary period of the 1980s the FSLN had created organizations for workers and farmers, students and women, and kept control of most of them for decades. After Ortega and the FSLN lost the 1990 election, the FSLN women’s organization AMNLAE broke up, as dissident women created their own feminist movement and a variety of small women’s organizations. Ortega and especially his wife and now vice-president Rosario Murillo, who had formed an alliance with the conservative Catholic Cardinal Miguel Obando y Bravo, launched a ferocious legal and media attack on feminists who supported abortion rights, accusing them of being criminal abortionists inspired by foreign imperialists. Social movements could not flourish in such an atmosphere.

    While the social movements languished, various sorts of non-government organizations prospered for a time. Ortega and some other FSLN leaders, when they lost governmental power after 1990, went off and formed NGOs, often launching them with resources that they had simply taken from their former government offices. Most used their NGOs to further their own political and business projects, though some took a genuine interest in social issues. Many U.S. and European foundations and NGOs supported work in Nicaragua around issues of poverty, hunger, homelessness, children’s and women’s health care, and environmental issues.[10] While these organizations, both religious and secular, often expressed high ideals, fundamentally—with the exception of some of the women’s NGOs—they engaged in charity, eschewing any social or political activity for fear of losing the government’s permission for their work.

    The best-organized and most important social organizations in Nicaraguan then have been the business class and the Catholic Church. The Catholic Church has a complicated history in Nicaragua. Allied for centuries with the landowning class and its political parties, it reached a modus vivendi with the Somoza dictatorship and later with the Ortega dictatorship. At the same time the Theology of Liberation of the 1960s and 1970s that called upon the church to take progressive social positions and to maintain a “preferential option for the poor,” won over many among the Jesuit order and many other Catholics both religious and lay. Catholic priests joined the FSLN during its heroic struggle against the Somoza dictatorship and continued to support the FSLN through its struggle against the U.S.-backed Contras. But by the 1990s, the Catholic left began to leave the FSLN, critical of Ortega and the party’s lack of democracy and diminishing social consciousness. Some formed the political movement called the Christian Alternative, but it was not successful. The priests and professors who continued to believe in the Theology of Liberation often taught in the country’s universities, and no doubt their ideals have had some impact on the current generation of students. At the moment, Pope Francis and the Nicaraguan Catholic Church are calling for an end to the violence and for peace and a dialogue between Ortega and the opposition.[11]

    The most important social organization in Nicaragua is COSEP (Consejo Superior de la Empresa Privada), the Superior Council for Private Enterprise, an umbrella organization made up of 27 chambers of particular industries. Closely allied with COSEP is AmCham, the American Chamber of Commerce of Nicaragua, part of the American Chambers of Commerce throughout Latin America that promote U.S. investment and trade. COSEP represents the rich and powerful Nicaraguan capitalist class. When the Sandinistas took power in the 1979 revolution, the landowning and industrial capitalist class split into three different groups: 1) some, like Carlos Pellas, today a billionaire, the richest man in Nicaragua, and a friend of Daniel Ortega, remained in Nicaragua; 2) others left Nicaragua, moved to other Central American and Caribbean countries, or moved to Florida, continuing their business operations or entering into new fields; 3) some of those in group #2 supported or even joined the Contras. While in exile, many in the Nicaraguan bourgeoisie actually got richer, since they were forced to expand their business networks, creating new ties to other banks and corporations.

    When Ortega and the FSLN lost power in 1990, the bourgeoisie in exile returned and through the government of President Violeta Chamorro and her son-in-law advisor Antonio Lacayo they gradually recovered most of the property that the government had taken from them. They were back in business. Through the famous piñatas, that is, the FSLN government’s two distributions of properties to Ortega and other FSLN leaders, a number of the latter became small time players in the Nicaraguan bourgeoisie. By the 2000s, Ortega and the FSLN had become not only junior partners in the capitalist economy, but also political partners sponsoring pro-business policies in the legislature and through government decrees. There is no doubt that as the crisis began a little more than a month ago, COSEP represented the most significant organized group in the country. When Ortega proposed the social security reform that detonated the rebellion, COSEP was among the first organizations to oppose changes because they would mean higher taxes on business as well as workers.

    The students, who took the lead in street protests using social media, have attempted to form a national student council to provide organization and leadership, but this has proven difficult because of the government’s violent attacks and the general chaos that exists in much of the country where neighborhoods have barricaded themselves, highways have been blocked, and FSLN gangsters and plain clothes police, together with sharpshooters, arrest, torture, and murder student activists. Some of the students have declared that what is taking place is “a revolution.”[12] But while the students have been the heroic leaders of the movement, given the country’s history and the current conditions, is it not surprising that they have failed to put forward a political program. So far the demands of the movement remain centered on the resignation of Ortega and Murillo, the restoration of democratic institutions, and social justice. There are no actual proposals for what to do with government institutions, the FSLN party and its leaders, the army and the police, or the economy. 

    So Where Are Things Now?

    We can say that facing off against the government there are now three major forces in Nicaragua: the movement of students, farmers, women and others; COSEP; and the Catholic Church. The Church, now headed by Cardinal Leopoldo Brenes, archbishop of Managua, continues to call for peace and dialogue, and despite the massacres has not yet called upon Ortega to resign.

    Nicaragua’s richest man, Carlos Pellas, and others such as Roberto Zamora of LaFise, one of the country’s most important financial institutions, have called for holding early elections.[13] Clearly the bourgeoisie would like a smooth transition to their continued economic dominance of the country.

    The recently created Articulación de Movimientos Sociales y Organizaciones de la Sociedad Civil, or the Coordinating Committee of Social Movements, and Organizations of Civil Society, has issued a call for a paro, a National Civic Citizens Strike, with the intention of paralyzing the country and forcing Ortega from office. With the country’s streets and highways already blocked and the economy disordered by the events, the paro would represent added pressure, though whether it could force Ortega to resign is an open question.

    The United States, which sees an opportunity to impose a still more openly pro-business and pro-United States government on Nicaragua, has via its ambassador Carlos Trujillo declared its opposition to the Ortega dictatorship and called for a date for new elections.[14] Its position is very close to that of COSEP. The U.S. too would like a smooth transition to a new, conservative capitalist government.

    The Challenge Facing the Nicaraguan Democratic Movement

    The challenge facing the Nicaraguan popular rebellion and the democratic movement at its core is to elaborate a program calling for political democracy and also for social justice in very explicit terms. Parliamentary democracy should be defended, but it must be cleansed of its pervasive corruption, and democracy must be extended to everyday life, to the barrios and to the workplaces where FSLN organizations have repressed people on a daily basis.

    A social justice program must include the rejection of the transatlantic canal, the protection of the rural peoples’ and indigenous peoples’ land, and new agricultural programs to lift the standard of living in the countryside. Workers must have the right to organize independent labor unions and to strike for higher wages, and in the meantime a new democratic government should dramatically raise wages. National property and cooperative property should be protected and more institutions should be collectivized.

    Women’s rights, children’s rights, and the rights of the indigenous, the Black Nicaraguans of the Caribbean coast, and all other groups must be protected and enhanced. The fight for the moment in Nicaragua is for programs of democracy and for social justice, but it is important that the new activists adopt a revolutionary attitude toward capitalism and the capitalist government and become advocates of a genuine socialist society.A program of democracy and social justice could inspire, unite, and advance the mmovement. 

    If the current Nicaraguan movement is to be successful, COSEP must be stopped from taking control of the reform process and the United States must be kept from intervening in any way. We in the United States can demand that our government keep its hands off of Nicaraguan and we can in every moral and material way possible offer our support to the democratic movement. The future lies with the young Nicaraguans who have so heroically led this rebellion, and we must be their allies.


    [1] Amnesty International’s report here: https://www.amnestyusa.org/reports/shoot-to-kill-nicaraguas-strategy-to-suppress-protest/ Find the reports of El Centro Nicaragüense de Derechos Humanos (CENIDH) here: https://www.cenidh.org/ The country’s major newspapers are La Prensa https://www.laprensa.com.ni/ and El Nuevo Diario https://www.elnuevodiario.com.ni/ and the digital Confidencial https://confidencial.com.ni/ and all have carried detail reports on the violence that clearly indicate the government’s responsibility.

    [3] https://www.state.gov/r/pa/ei/bgn/1850.htm

    [14] https://www.laprensa.com.ni/tag/carlos-trujillo

     

  • Roadblocks and possibilities: The Nicaraguan student insurrection

    Mothers March: No More Murders of Our Children

    Canadian internationalist feminist Lori Hanson, who has been working in solidarity with rural Nicaraguans for more than 30 years, has just returned from Nicaragua. Jack Hicks interviewed her for New Socialist. Together, they crafted this piece based on the interview and an article Lori previously wrote for the Greek newspaper, AlterThess. The analysis of an emerging movement in Nicaragua is a work in progress for Lori, who continues to work with Nicaraguans on the deeper meaning of a 44 day-long uprising and the state violence that has accompanied it in April and May, 2018.

    Hicks:  You left Nicaragua on Monday, May 28. What was the situation there when you left?

    Hanson: Last Monday morning students from the Nicaraguan University of Engineering (UNI) decided to return to occupying their campus in solidarity with the students of three other public universities in Managua, that have been en las trincheras – barricaded in and occupying the universities since April 19. UNI is of symbolic importance to the regime of President Daniel Ortega as many engineers, IT specialists, and others graduate from it, providing the technical brains to operationalize Ortega’s pseudo-socialist, neoliberal extractivist, crony capitalist agenda.

    Although spontaneous, leaderless, and uncoordinated in their initial self-organized (autoconvocado) mobilizations, the anger that welled up after the first students were killed on April 19 quickly manifested in university students and other civilians working to support each other across the country. The movement didn’t get its start in April – there are antecedents – but the spark has ignited, and it has grown exponentially over the past 45 days. UNI students had been participating in the occupations of the other universities, but it would seem that their return to take their campus took the regime by surprise.

    By noon on Monday, para-police forces – known locally as turbas – had moved on the campus. Videos show Hilux trucks filled with armed men shooting wildly from the street.[1] The riot squad police joined them later in the afternoon. It was a renewed level of response and repression – the police had been absent, some say in civil disguise, for days. At the end of the day there were two more dead and reports of 22 to 40 detained. The America’s director of Amnesty International was on the campus during the stand-off with the forces of repression, and posted powerful cellphone video of the attack.[2]

    There are varying reports of who these autoconvocado students are as a group. One source said the front-line militants (armed for self-defence with homemade mortars, maintaining the barricades) are the becados – students with scholarships, while supplies and rearguard activity are provided by the better off students. Various previous student groups have also provided experience and know-how – some of those movements being #OccupyINSS in 2013 and the more recent #IndioMaiz environmental movement. The movement has experimented with bottom-up, social network-based approaches that challenge what they see as a rigid hierarchical, top-down, party driven system. The movement has so far apparently avoided engaging with any particular ideology, labour unions or political parties. Its members seem to mistrust the business sector, but clearly there are no anti-capitalist slogans leading their fight. They are driven, much like the Spanish indignados, by a sense of moral indignation to what they see as a corrupt and authoritarian government.

    Additionally, from my sources, it would seem that at least some students come from what are ‘critical Sandinista’ backgrounds. Their parents fought in the insurrection and the war and to a certain extent they grew up believing in the original Sandinista revolutionary values and platform. Their parents have or had jobs in the Sandinista state apparatus and lots of kids they know got scholarships as a result, in part, of party connections. Growing up in ‘political’ households, hearing mounting criticism of Ortega and his regime – the authoritarian style of government, the rigged elections, and the obvious kleptocracy – influenced their thinking. In the mix of people involved are also those influenced by family and friends who had long since left the FSLN (the ruling Sandinista party) and joined the Sandinista Renovation Movement (MRS, which formed from a split in the party between the ‘old guard’ of the party and more centrist social democrats). The MRS is detested by the regime, and in official media quietly blamed for the “soft coup” that the government claims the students are providing fodder for. That explanation for the uprising does not hold water though, if only because the MRS has no significant base of support. Still, the ‘critical Sandinista’ students would appear to have played a role in the occupations and the roadblocks – and in garnering support for the resistance more generally.

    Hicks:  Roadblocks are a key strategy being utilized by the student movement. What was travel in the country like?

    Hanson: When I travelled north along the Pan-American Highway to Estelí, I passed through five different tranques (roadblocks) set up and maintained by students with local community support. Think about that – students control movement along the main transportation artery of the country, which connects Canada and the US through Central America and south as far as Argentina and Chile. In that way, the students are having a huge impact on the economy of Nicaragua (estimates of economic loss and decrease in the growth rate are staggering). Neighbouring countries are also counting their losses. But excepting sporadic para-police activity, the government hasn’t acted to remove them. Removal of the barricades was the government’s #1 demand in the first round of the truncated ‘national dialogue’. (The student representatives’ #1 demand was an end to the repression).

    At the tranques, I had students with t-shirts covering their faces (encapuchados) and home-made mortars in their hands stick their head in my car, inquire about who I was and where I was going, and then with a smile say that there was nothing to worry about – “We’re letting people through, it’s going to be about half an hour.” They were simply making the point that they control the road. On the way back south to Managua I travelled in a car carrying two people to dialysis treatment in the capital, and we were allowed to drive around the roadblock without having to wait. Allowing ambulances and disabled or sick people through is part of an ethical code that is both known and publicized, but nowhere written.

    In Managua I visited students who had participated in the occupation of UPOLI (the polytechnic university) and had helped at roadblocks nearby. I also briefly passed by the UPOLI with a cabbie who lived in the area and wanted me to see the occupation first hand. The students there were obviously anxious and distressed for all they have lived through for the past month – they were nervous and had no particular talking points to relate to a passing internationalist, but did say: “Tell the world what’s going on here.”

    Speaking with the students there were scant key messages, some clear demands, slogans using words like democracy and justice… but no particular platform. I saw and heard no evidence that they have developed links with workers (all unions in Nicaragua are tightly integrated into the Ortega regime), but they clearly have mass support. For example, the barrio surrounding the UPOLI is supplying the occupying students with food and water – and protection. The exterior walls of colleges and campuses in Managua have been plastered with memorials to students who have been killed in recent weeks.

    In many ways, the student-initiated uprising is a remarkable example of mobilization from below, of horizontal democratic organizing. (It is older militants who, while supportive, have trouble envisioning this kind of organizing.) It is also an illustration of how quickly a political situation can change once the lid blows off the pot. One day students are studying engineering, medicine, etc., and a few days later they’re leading demonstrations against the government, occupying their campuses, and building and maintaining roadblocks. And, we must never forget, being shot down by the regime. The level of violence on the part of the regime has been staggering – especially in a country that suffered a full-on war within living memory. Only trained sharpshooters would be able to kill so many young people with shots to their heads, necks and chests.

    Hicks:  What has happened since you left?

    Hanson: On Tuesday May 29, the Bishops managed to secure the release of 22 students who were being held in a prison in Managua. Interviewed in the independent media (which continues to operate), two of the students said that they had been robbed by the police of their cell phones and their money, and also, in one case, of a motorcycle. They also expressed fears that there were other students being held there, and possibly subject to torture. There is a growing list of youth missing who have disappeared, and mounting pressure for their release or an explanation of their whereabouts. Tuesday also saw the Amnesty International report on Nicaragua, issued a day after its author was caught up in the UNI takedown. The report, entitled Shoot to Kill: Nicaragua’s Strategy to Repress Protest is a scorching indictment of the regime, calling it unlawful, in violation of human rights and having committed crimes under international law.[3] It followed on the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights (IACHR) observations released earlier in this month, which documented at that point 76 people killed, 868 wounded and 438 detained – and “the possibility of extrajudicial executions.”[4]

    On Wednesday morning an opinion poll conducted by Gallup was publicized. According to the poll, the most trusted public figure in the country is Cardinal Leopoldo Brenes, who is moderating the deadlocked (and currently suspended) ‘national dialogue’ between the government and the civil society alliance, which includes various movement actors, labor and the students. (Ortega appeared only at the first meeting of the dialogue, where a student representative called him “an assassin” to his face on live national TV). Second most trusted is Silvio José Báez, the progressive Auxiliary Bishop of Managua, who has been openly on the side of the students. The third is business magnate Carlos Pellas, by far the richest man in the country. So there you have it: at a time of popular insurrection, two of the three most respected people in the country are Catholic Bishops and the third is Nicaragua’s only billionaire.

    On Wednesday, May 30, Pellas gave a media interview in which he said that the way forward for the country is through early national elections. (Ortega was last elected President in 2016, and has three years left in his term.) So we see the richest capitalist in one of the poorest countries in the Americas, who along with the rest of the capitalist class had found it possible to live with a dictator who cloaks himself in revolutionary nostalgia while implementing neoliberalism, saying that perhaps the time for change has come. That being said, Pellas knows full well that if elections were held tomorrow Ortega might well win them. Even while the Gallup poll showed that Ortega’s support had waned from 52 to 31%, the constitutional changes he orchestrated as an opposition leader with a previous conservative President – known as “the pact” – require only one round of voting and any party with 35% or more wins. We cannot underestimate the support that Ortega (as the supposed embodiment of a hard-won revolution against a previous dictator) continues to have in some parts of the country, or the lengths that FSLN cadre will go to in order to maintain their positions and privilege.

    Wednesday was also Mothers’ Day – a very important day in Nicaragua. The Mothers of April, a new movement of women who lost sons to the violence of the past month-and-a-half, had called a national march. Ortega responded by calling for a counter-march, complete with a video call with distinctly war-like feel to it.[5] The opposition’s ‘Mother of All Marches’ began as an incredible act of national mourning, with thousands of attendees clad in black taking over a main highway through Managua. For three hours, hundreds of thousands of people marched through the city,[6]with similar marches occurring across the country. But as the sun was going down, and the march nearing its endpoint, parapolice and riot squads opened fire. The reports are that eleven more people were killed, and dozens wounded. Bishop Báez called it “a massacre.” The national Jesuit university, located near the march’s endpoint, opened its gates – 5,000 people flooded in seeking refuge. The firing on them continued.[7] It was the single bloodiest day of the uprising to date. Amnesty International stated that with its “the systematic ‘shoot-to-kill’ policy” the Ortega regime “reached inconceivable levels of perversion today.”[8]

    Meanwhile, across the city at the counter-demonstration, Ortega vowed to stay in power. He declared that the country is “not private property,” in allusion to the Chamber of Commerce having earlier that day publicly demanded that Ortega call early elections. The call for early elections has now been echoed across the world; today the European Parliament joined the call.[9]

    The slaughter of students was only part of the story on Wednesday. On the Pan-American highway, students at the roadblocks had also dug in – preventing buses full of Ortega supporters from getting to Managua for their march. The FSLN supporters were apparently fired on, one was killed, and others wounded. While unconfirmed, the likely story is it that there was an armed group supporting the students that did the shooting. It would seem that there are those that are re-arming in the rural areas, that divisions are deepening, and it is likely that more violence is in the forecast. Rural and urban Nicaragua have always been two different things. Nicaragua’s poor are primarily rural people with the wealth of urban business and middle-class dependent on continuing unequal economic relationships and cheap labour.

    On Friday, June 1, the IACHR adopted “a precautionary measure to protect the rights to life and personal integrity” of Bishop Báez, who has been receiving death threats. This amounts to a public statement that someone’s life is at risk, and that they require protection. The IACHR had previously done the same for the 13 student representatives who participated in the National Dialogue, as they too received death threats. And in Estelí, doctors who had been seen participating in student-led marches woke up to find that black X’s had been spray-painted on their front doors.

    Hicks:  What might happen next?

    Hanson: Some historical reminders may be in order to understand where this may go next. One cannot ignore that Ortega’s second presidency ominously began in 2007 with a crackdown on social movements; one of his first acts in power was the arrest of leaders of the autonomous women’s movement. As an astute politico-military leader, Ortega has assured his own survival by eliminating the power of any opposition, ensuring a favorable climate for the capitalist class, and keeping his head down in the trenches. From his bunkered down position, he has assured his own party and family ascendency by assuring FSLN control over the judicial, electoral, legislative and executive branches of government and over the major radio, TV, and print media. And he has grown increasingly out of touch with reality, yet he has a vast arsenal and loyal foot soldiers at his disposal. And let us be clear – Nicaragua is a post-war country, with an excess of hyper-masculinized machismo and pent-up anger. I don’t see in the immediate future a Nicaraguan society moving toward a less oppressive or anti-capitalist direction, nor toward a lessening of existing social cleavages.

    The regressive forces of ‘Orteguismo’, with its repressive authoritarian neo-liberal political platform has for too many years been presenting an antiquated, degenerated version of so-called socialist politics. Meanwhile the critically thinking progressive left in Nicaragua has been further marginalized and is in disarray. It will be difficult, if not impossible, for the outcome of uprising to correct this historic fact.

    And yet, analysts and opportunists of every political stripe including right wing parties, official and opposition media, church hierarchies, disaffected and critical Sandinistas, anti-imperialist ALBA (Bolivarian alliance) allies (and their mouthpiece teleSUR, whose coverage has been uncritically pro-Ortega), and even sections of the progressive left have used events of the past 44 days to support their own version of the emergent movement and oppositional events in the country.

    Apologists for the authoritarian left like to delegitimize uprisings like the one in Nicaragua. Non-authoritarian socialists like to read more into them than they warrant. This is anything but a socialist uprising – it is popular uprising that merits attention as it has the potential to open space for a grassroots, horizontal movement to develop, and perhaps within the ranks of that movement there are seeds of a new socialism. But those seeds are unlikely to germinate any time soon.

    Here are some considerations when thinking about the future. 1) The Nicaraguan army may or may not enter the fray – there are laws of national security that Ortega could use to justify a military crack-down. 2) Capitalists in Nicaragua are ever ready to pounce on the opportunity offered by the crisis. They have no intention of losing ground here, and may well gain a lot. It says a lot that while a general distrust of business leaders is claimed by students, that does not translate to a mistrust of the country’s biggest capitalists. 3) This could well turn from an urban uprising to a war of attrition, hurting the rural poor the most. Such a war would deepen FSLN support – and remember they are but a few percentage points away from a sure re-election. 4) No opposition political parties are in any kind of shape to win an election, were one to be called any time soon.

    There are some parallels here to the spontaneity and lack of political program of the Arab Spring uprisings. Questions arise about the role of the autoconvocados movement in a hypothetic post-Ortega future, such as whether and, if so to what extent, will it become a mainstream political force in the country’s politics? Will it simply implode? Or, having learned hard lessons about state power, might some students realize that their interests lie with workers rather than with capitalists? With a feminist future, rather than a militarist one?

    The two most likely scenarios for Nicaragua at present seem to me to be either a war of attrition between the Ortega regime and its opponents, or a bloodbath. Students and workers have the potential of building a third possible outcome.

    It is true that the uprising was a much-needed empowering act for a generation of youth that have been disenfranchised, disillusioned and angry – made impotent by a political party/family/state that obsessively cultivated and desperately hung to power for the party and its members. The hope will come through continued mobilization and articulation of progressive Left thinking, organizing from below, and strategizing with authentic worker’s organizations (which need to be built) and radical social movements. Perhaps then a progressive revolutionary Left will re-emerge in Nicaragua. It is and always was worth fighting for.

    Hicks:  And finally, what do you recommend socialists read as background to the current crisis?

    Hanson: The best short read is the article “Capitalist development in Nicaragua and the mirage of the Left,” by William Robinson in Truth-Out. The essential longer read in English is Dan La Botz’s excellent book What Went Wrong? The Nicaraguan Revolution: A Marxist Analysiswhich will soon be out in paperback from Haymarket Books.

    This article originally appeared in New Socialist: Ideas for Radical Change at: http://newsocialist.org/roadblocks-and-possibilities-the-nicaraguan-student-insurrection/

    Photos by Lori Hanson.

    Lori Hanson has worked alongside of social movements in Latin America – particularly anti-mining and rural women’s movements in Nicaragua – for 35 years. She is a professor in the Department of Community Health and Epidemiology at the University of Saskatchewan.

    Jack Hicks is a social research consultant and a university and college lecturer. He has written and presented widely about public policies across the circumpolar Arctic (especially Greenland and Nunavut). 

    [1] https://www.facebook.com/WilmerBenavidesF/videos/1941389255895060/

    [2] https://www.amnesty.org/en/latest/news/2018/05/nicaragua-amnistia-internacional-documenta-ataque-armado-contra-estudiantes/

    [3] https://www.amnesty.org/download/Documents/AMR4384702018ENGLISH.PDF

    [4] http://www.oas.org/en/iachr/media_center/PReleases/2018/113.asp

    [5] https://www.facebook.com/donald.macleay/videos/10156360616777618/

    [6] https://www.facebook.com/endnicaragua/videos/2151038108244020/

    [7] https://www.facebook.com/Cerhes/videos/1817820768237930/

    [8] https://www.amnesty.org/en/latest/news/2018/05/nicaragua-violento-ataque-a-multitudinaria-marcha-de-las-madres-en-managua/

    [9] http://www.europarl.europa.eu/sides/getDoc.do?pubRef=-//EP//NONSGML+TA+P8-TA-2018-0238+0+DOC+PDF+V0//EN

     

     

  • Developing Marx’s Mode of Production Theory

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    It is not surprising that Karl Marx is having a comeback today, after the 2008 financial crisis, the growing awareness of capitalism’s propensity to crises and ecological problems, and the fact that global inequality has increased to an obscene degree – all of which Marx foresaw.

    That this is all happening 150 years after the publication of Capital, Marx’s magnum opus, shows the importance of understanding his work. Rather than being outdated, it is even more relevant today than when it was published since the above developments came as a surprise to mainstream thinkers. Capitalism was supposed to get better with time.

    Capital is first and foremost an unsurpassed explanation of the very specific nature and development of the system of capitalism, which was relatively new in his day. Since then it has become so ubiquitous throughout the world that its particularities are often obscure to those who live within it, as a fish might be unaware of the nature of water. Some mainstream economists even say that “capitalism” is just Marx’s word for an economic system that has actually existed throughout history, equating capitalism with any society that had a market. It is thereby naturalized, seen as an expression of the natural human tendency to exchange, to buy and to sell. Capitalism, as a specific system with a very particular nature, thus disappears. But Marx’s masterwork puts the lie to this interpretation, as it shows in detail the inner workings and tendencies of a very distinct kind of economy, radically different from those that existed before, which emerged in a particular historical period for particular kinds of causes. Its prescience makes it easy to see the essential similarities between his world and ours, as globalization has remade the world in its own image, as Marx said it would.

    Capital’s analysis of this peculiar economic system provides us with the means to understand how this happened and why, as well as to understand both previous economies, and ones that followed capitalism. The key concept is the idea of a mode of production that Marx develops in Capital (although the idea is present in earlier work as well). More than a concept, it is the essential methodological tool for understanding history, different societies and the potentials and limits for change within those social formations.

    Implicit also in Capital, I would argue, is a moral critique of capitalism and all other class societies, and by implication, a vision of what he often referred to as a “higher form of society.”[1] According to Marx exploitation was essential to all class societies, indeed defining of class society, both in general and of each particular form. Given that Capital is devoted to an understanding of capitalism, he devoted this work to an elucidation of the form that exploitation takes in this system, viz., the extraction of surplus value. This has unfortunately led many people to identify Marx’s concept of exploitation with the extraction of surplus value and therefore as specific to capitalism. However, this is just the particular form of exploitation in capitalism, as he makes clear in the following quote from Volume I:

    “The essential difference between the various economic forms of society, between for instance a society based on slave labor and one based on wage labor, lies only in the mode in which this surplus labor is in each case extracted from the actual producer, the laborer.”[2]

    Or consider this quote, from Volume III:

    “The specific economic form, in which unpaid surplus labor is pumped out of direct producers determines the relations of rulers and ruled.”[3]

    Notice the words: extracted from and pumped out of.

    From these formulations I infer that in Marx’s view:

    1) a particular form of coercion and surplus extraction are connected in all class societies; in fact they are constitutive of the relations of production that define a given mode of production.

    2) this is a fundamental explanatory feature of all class societies

    3) changes in forms of exploitation are critical for understanding historical change.

    Exploitation occurs when producers lack control of their means of subsistence and hence, in order to survive they are forced, directly or indirectly, to work for others who appropriate their labor’s product. In slavery and in feudalism both the force and the extraction of surplus are clear. In capitalism, neither the force nor the surplus are apparent. Legally speaking workers are free to work for different employers or for none, and employers pay them a wage for their labor. Marx’s specific account of how, despite these appearances, workers are forced to work and the capitalist class extracts a surplus from their labor, rests on the labor theory of value. Many critics of capitalism, including some who call themselves Marxists, reject the labor theory of value. For my purposes here, we can leave aside this debate, because Marx has a broader understanding of exploitation in capitalism. Workers, Marx says, “agree, i.e. are compelled by social conditions,” (i.e. their lack of means of production/subsistence), to work for others who own/control these resources and who then reap the product of their labor. His account of primitive accumulation explains how this came about, resting, he says, on force and establishing the conditions which then force the producers to work for the owners.[4] With or without Marx’s labor theory of value, this is true.

    The mode of production analysis helps us to see that exploitation also existed in post-capitalist societies. The fundamental question is always who controls the means of production? In Soviet-style bureaucratic collectivist systems (so-called because the party-bureaucracy owns the means of production collectively via their control of the state), it was the bureaucracy that controlled the means of production and subsistence, leaving the producers no choice but to work for them. And it was the bureaucracy that controlled the surplus for their needs and purposes. This analysis allows us to see the continuity between the modes of production of capitalism, feudalism, slave systems and the bureaucratic systems, as they are all class societies. But the specific differences between them are equally important.

    Each mode of production, as Marx understood it, has certain kinds of structures and tendencies, a certain nature if you will. To continue the quote given earlier, “it is always the direct relationship of the owners… to the producers … which reveals the innermost secret, the hidden basis of the entire social structure, and with it… the corresponding form of the state.”[5] In capitalism, a competitive market system, each capitalist firm must try to maximize its own profit, in order to beat the other capitalist and get a larger share of the market. So each firm is compelled to grow, to expand, to revolutionize the forces of production in order to produce more while lowering their costs. Whatever the variations and changes within capitalism, – and there are many, as capitalism is a highly dynamic system – this is a constant. Other systems, pre-and post-capitalist, do not have this built-in imperative, this “motor” of to growth. Indeed slavery and feudalism were marked by stasis and crises of underproduction, capitalism by crises of overproduction.

    This concept of a mode of production is important for several debates, starting with what changes are and are not possible within capitalism.

    Consider gender relations: in developed capitalist countries women have become more independent from men and more equal both legally and economically than ever before. Nevertheless, they still are subject to sexual predation, as Donald Trump has helped to highlight, their reproductive rights are insecure, and they still do the bulk of caring labor, whether for free or for low pay. Low-paid care work, being wage work, fits the account of exploitation in Capital, while the work they do for free does not. Feminists have often criticized Marx on this point, but since Capital is intended to elucidate what makes the capitalist system tick, so to speak, unpaid work is irrelevant. Hence this is not a valid criticism in my opinion. Marxist feminists have developed an enriched account of social reproduction, which tries to supplement the account in Capital, showing the crucial importance of this unpaid and under-valued work, both in human terms and for capitalism, as it produces labor power on a daily and generational basis.[6]

    The extraordinary improvements in gender relations within capitalism raise the question of whether women and men could ever be totally equal in a capitalist society. Liberals think so, contending that “it’s just the remaining influences of patriarchy” and “if we only leaned in more…” and so on. Some Marxists also seem to imply this is possible by their contention that, unlike class oppression, sex and race oppression are not essential to capitalism. But while they are not logically essential, (that is, we can imagine a gender and race-neutral version of capitalism), it does not follow that they are incidental; indeed, as Marxist feminists, including myself, have argued, they are very likely historically, pragmatically necessary. Consider what women have and have not achieved. What they’ve achieved are their basic democratic rights, which do not threaten profits, indeed that may augment them. Care work in the United States is still largely a private responsibility because supporting care as the public good it is would seriously cut into profits. In other countries with more social supports, the advent of global neoliberalism has meant drastic cut backs in these benefits, as such supports put them at a competitive disadvantage vis-a-via countries without them, like the United States and China. Consider also the racialization of this type of work, which is mostly done by immigrants and women of color; this allows its under-valuation to be obscured or rationalized as natural and appropriate for “those kinds of women.”

    Thus capitalism’s inherent nature puts constraints on gender and race equality. Today individual women and minorities have moved to the top ranks of society. At the same time however, class differences among women and among blacks have actually increased. Movements that could reduce sex and race oppression for the majority of people must be based on working class struggles, integrating the different dimensions of oppression. Thus the frequent counter-position of class and “identity politics” is misleading, unhelpful, indeed counterproductive.

    Another and probably most important example of the capitalist limits to change is the multiple ecological crises facing the planet, which, as Al Gore’s charts show, took off with the development of capitalism. Its imperative to grow is simply incompatible with a sustainable environment. As the Southern regions of the United States struggle to recover from hurricanes of unprecedented strength and in the West from devastating forest fires, Americans can no longer imagine that global warming is only a problem for far away places. Those environmentalists who advocate a simpler no-growth economy are one hundred percent correct, but unless they also recognize that this is impossible within capitalism they are another variety of climate change deniers. This point is underlined by the contrast between capitalism and non-capitalist modes of production, as I will try to show after a short detour.

    The concept of a mode of production is important for debates as to how to understand various societies transitioning to capitalism, some from “traditional” feudal modes of production e.g. India – and others coming from so-called socialist or communist modes of production. People on the left disagree as to whether capitalism, as Marx understood it, is applicable to both these kinds of societies.

    Many post-colonialist thinkers have denied that Marxist analyses are applicable to countries like India because, they argue, India lacks key features of developed capitalism, in particular, it lacks liberal political and cultural institutions. Since India did not make these political changes, and remains deeply colonial in many ways, therefore, they argue, Marxism does not apply to post-colonial societies like India. But Vivek Chibber,[7] using the mode of production analysis, distinguishes those features that are essential to capitalism and those that are not. Marxism does not contend that capitalist development will be uniform all over the world. Rather, it claims that certain features of capitalism are universal. Capital’s economic needs – the sine qua non being profit maximization – are the defining ones; they are present in India and in fact they might be aided by the very traditional social hierarchies and oppression that post-colonialists deem to be incompatible with capitalism. Even in the West, as Chibber points out, liberal political forms did not come automatically with capitalism but had to be fought for over many centuries. So the mode of production analysis enables us to see that such traditional societies can be understood in Marxist terms, even though they are different in many respects from developed capitalist societies in the West.

    The systems that existed in the Soviet Union and China after their revolutions pose other questions; people calling themselves Marxists have disagreed from the very beginning as to how to characterize them. The mode of production analysis helps us to approach these debates. Though the Soviet Union and China developed (economically) under Stalin and Mao, their push for development and growth was not the same as capitalism, either in scope (they had nowhere near the same growth) or in cause. Unless the bureaucracy decided to develop something, it did not happen; there was no automatic motor that drove growth as there is in a market system. In fact the cause of growth was more like feudalism in that it stemmed from political rather than economic needs; as feudal lords competed with each other, so these countries competed with other global powers.

    Today these systems have changed radically. I will focus on China, the most complex and interesting of the two, relying here on the work of Richard Smith who identifies China today as a hybrid tripartite mode of production – part state-owned, part foreign-invested private-state joint venture export sector, part domestic capitalist.[8] The foreign-invested sector of the economy, which accounts for about a third of industrial output, produces most exports and has created enormous growth (20% in this sector), helping to push China’s overall GDP to more than 10% per annum for twenty years up to 2011. (The development of this capitalist sector was similar in crucial ways to the development of capitalism in Europe.)[9]

    But the other sector, of state-owned enterprises, which produce half of China’s industrial output, and which includes the commanding heights of the economy, runs on very different imperatives. Many of the state-owned enterprises are justly called dinosaurs because they would have gone extinct in a fully capitalist economy. But the government, nominally “communist,” cannot afford to let millions of people be unemployed. So the government keeps its zombie companies going producing steel and aluminum it can’t sell, building things like ghost cities, an airliner that costs more to produce than it would to import, etc., etc. This makes sense in their bureaucratic mode of production even though they are totally irrational from a capitalist point of view, as Western economists never tire of pointing out. The two systems, or modes of production, simply have different natures, therefore different drivers, and different rationalities.

    This combination of market-driven growth in the largest economy in the world and the lack of even the minimal political democratic checks typical of capitalism is driving China toward what Smith has called an ecological apocalypse.

    And finally, the mode of production analysis also gives us the key conditions for socialism, a “higher form of society.” As Marx conceived it, this is a society where the means of production are under democratic collective control, so the conditions for exploitation do not exist. The producers control the product of their labor and they get it all back collectively. Nor does alienation exist. Both points are expressed in this famous quote from Capital III[10]: “the producers rationally regulate their interchange with Nature, bringing it under their common control… with the least expenditure of energy and under conditions most favorable to and worthy of their human nature.” Beyond that is the true realm of freedom, he says concluding, “the shortening of the work day is its basic prerequisite.”

    Such a society would allow for more time with our families and friends, for all kinds of labor that are not profitable under capitalism, be it caring labor to enhance the health and welfare of human beings and of the Earth, artistic, and other kinds of creative work – and more time simply for leisure. Socialism is thus inherently feminist and eco-socialist. But Marx’s vision of collective “rational regulation” of production is only possible on a global level, as the level of production has to be sufficient for everyone in the world to have a decent standard of living. Global systems of democratic governance will be required.

    Today it is ever more clear that – in Rosa Luxemburg’s words – humanity’s choice is between socialism and barbarism.

     

    Notes

    [1] Though this might seem obvious to most readers, it was an object of intense debate in the 1980s. See Norman Geras, “The Controversy about Marx and Justice,” in Literature of Revolution (London, 1986) for an excellent summary.

    [2] Capital Volume 1 (New York, 1967), p. 217.

    [3] Capital Volume 3, p. 791.

    [4] Capital Volume 1, p. 714.

    [5] Capital Volume 3, p. 791.

    [6] In particular, Lise Vogel, Marxism and the Oppression of Women: Toward a Unitary Theory, second edition with Introduction by Susan Ferguson and David McNally (New York, 2013); Johanna Brenner, Women and the Politics of Class (New York, 2000).

    [7] Vivek Chibber, Post-Colonial Theory and the Specter of Capital (London, 2013)

    [8] Richard Smith, “China’s Communist-Capitalist Ecological Apocalypse,” paecon.net.

    [9] “The Necessity of Gangster Capitalism: Primitive Accumulation in Russia and China,” Nancy Holmstrom and Richard Smith, Monthly Review (February 2000).

    [10] Capital Volume 3 (New York, 1967), p. 820.

    Originally posted at Logos Journal

  • Une déclaration sur le voyage de Mélenchon en Russie

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    This is a declaration signed by two French militants and a young Ukrainian left-wing activist describing the details of Jean-Luc Mélenchon's trip to Russia not long ago, and the scandal of the ignorance of part of the left under the pretext of anti-imperialism.

    Texte écrit à l’occasion de la rencontre, à Commentry, vieux foyer du mouvement ouvrier en France, de militants français et d’une militante ukrainienne originaire de Donetzk.

    Le président français s’est rendu en Russie, quelques semaines après être allé voir Trump. De même qu’ont été douchées les légendes sur l’influence de « l’homme qui sait parler à l’oreille de Trump », les espoirs ou allégations sur un Macron qui saurait aussi « parler à Poutine » des « questions qui fâchent » aboutissent à ce bilan officiel : c’est « le dégel » (RFI), « Macron et Poutine parlent d’une seule voix » (Le Point), ils sont d’accord sur la Syrie (pour garder Bachar el Assad), un contrat de 2,5 milliards est assuré à Total dans l’exploitation du gaz arctique, les « droits de l’homme » auraient été « évoqués » et des noms, dont celui d’Oleg Sentsov, prononcés, mais la coupe du monde de football en Russie doit bien se passer (Oleg Sentsov en grève de la faim risque de mourir au début de celle-ci …), et concernant les sanctions liées à la guerre en Ukraine, il faut que d’ici juillet « les deux parties » fassent des « progrès ».

    Militants de gauche, syndicalistes, partisans des droits humains et de la solidarité internationale, nous ne sommes naturellement pas représentés par E. Macron. Quelques semaines avant son voyage, J.L. Mélenchon s’est lui aussi rendu en Russie, avec par contre quelques prétentions à représenter, sinon « la gauche », du moins « le peuple », voire même « l’unité populaire ». Dans ce texte nous abordons les graves problèmes politiques posés par ce voyage et ce qu’il révèle en creux : l’urgence d’un véritable internationalisme.

    Les vrais opposants de Poutine

    La visite de J.L. Mélenchon en Russie n’a pas comporté de réception officielle par les dirigeants de l’État mais elle faisait suite à la réélection de Vladimir Poutine aux élections présidentielles du 18 mars dernier. Rappelons que dans ces « élections' » sur mesure, toute candidature réellement oppositionnelle avait été écartée, en particulier celle du libéral « anti-corruption » Alexeï Navalny (seule la candidature de Ksenia Sobtchak, fille de l’oligarque qui fut le mentor de V. Poutine, passait pour franchement « oppositionnelle » ; elle avait surtout pour particularité d’être la première candidature féminine à ce poste et a officiellement obtenu 1,6% des suffrages exprimés). Pendant la campagne électorale, c’est-à-dire la campagne d’État pour Poutine, une « affaire » a été lancée par le FSB et médiatisée, celle du « Réseau » ou « communauté terroriste » censé avoir été défait dans la ville de Penza. Il s’agit d’un groupe de jeunes se définissant politiquement comme « antifas » (antifascistes), ce qui en Russie signifie combattant à la fois l’extrême-droite et la soi-disant gauche nationaliste à symboles staliniens et fascistes souvent mêlés.

    Ils s’appellent Dmitry Pchelintsev, Andrey Chernov, Vasiliy Kuksov, Arman Sagynbaev, Ilya Shaburskiy, Viktor Filinkov, Yuliy Bolarchinov, Igor Shishkin, Egor Zorin. Ils ont moins de 25 ans et ont été torturés longuement, de façon à inventer un complot contre la sûreté de l’État, qui serait d’inspiration anarchiste. Le complot est fictif, la question politique est réelle : des milliers de jeunes en Russie ne peuvent que détester l’État, qui, dans l’histoire, sous forme tsariste, « soviétique » et maintenant poutinienne, a toujours représenté répression et forfaiture. Ce qu’ils disent et ressentent rejoint le sentiment de millions qui n’ont pas voté aux présidentielles. Dans la tradition de l’Okhrana et du KGB, le pouvoir invente des complots de peur d’avoir affaire un jour non à un complot, mais à une protestation démocratique massive pour la liberté.

    Électrodes, coups, suspension, gaz dans la bouche, menaces de « destruction de ton rectum » en prison, ces récits attestés et sordides ont aussi pour signification la propagation, dans les structures policières, de méthodes qui existaient déjà, mais plus localisées : dans certains camps pour droits communs, certaines casernes, et, massivement, dans la satrapie concédée à l’islamisto-poutinien collabo, et âme damnée de V. Poutine, Kadyrov, en Tchétchénie, connu pour la chasse aux homosexuels. On ne peut pas ne pas évoquer ici l’encadrement de l’armée décomposée de Bachar el Assad en Syrie par l’armée russe, la Syrie où la torture et le viol sont au fondement de la domination de l’État. L’emploi significatif de ces méthodes contre un groupe de jeunes en fait inoffensifs, dans une ville provinciale russe, est un développement qui, avant même le scrutin présidentiel, marque le franchissement d’un seuil. Elle produit aussi de fortes protestations et mobilisations démocratiques et juridiques en Russie.

    Ces méthodes ont aussi marqué les suites de l’annexion de la Crimée, en 2014. C’est alors qu’étaient kidnappés vers la Russie le célèbre réalisateur de cinéma Oleg Sentsov et le militant anarchiste populaire dans la région, Alexandre Koltchenko, pour un complot nationaliste ukrainien fabriqué de toutes pièces. Le premier a été condamné à 20 ans de camp à régime sévère, le second à 10 ans. 64 arrestations arbitraires connues d’ukrainiens, dont près de 50 Tatars de Crimée, ont eu lieu depuis. Oleg Sentsov, depuis le 14 mai 2018, a engagé une grève de la faim. Un autre prisonnier politique ukrainien, Volodomyr Baloukh, est en grève de la faim depuis le 19 mars déjà. Tous deux sont en danger de mort – Sentsov, malade, est en colonie à régime sévère sur le cercle polaire.

    La revendication lancée par Sentsov est : libération des 64 prisonniers politiques ukrainiens  détenus en Russie.

    Voila les opposants en Russie : jeunesse combattant pour la liberté, antifas, anarchistes, ukrainiens et défenseurs de l’indépendance ukrainienne (comme il a existé en Grande-Bretagne des défenseurs de l’indépendance irlandaise, ou en France des défenseurs de l’indépendance algérienne), sans oublier la force importante des syndicats indépendants, à ne pas confondre avec les syndicats officiels qui s’intitulent « indépendants ».

    J.L. Mélenchon et S. Oudaltsov

    Revenons maintenant à J.L. Mélenchon. En compagnie de son spécialiste des « questions géopolitiques » et officier de réserve de l’armée française, Djorge Kuzmanovic, il dit s’être aussi rendu en Russie pour rencontrer « l’opposition ». Il a rencontré Serguéï Oudaltsov, dirigeant du « Front de gauche » russe. Issu des courants « national-bolchevik », ce qu’il convient de traduire en français par « rouges-bruns », S. Oudaltsov a pris part aux manifestations de 2011 suivant la réélection de Poutine, aux côtés du libéral « anti-corruption » A. Navalny, et a été emprisonné. Pour les présidentielles de 2018 il a soutenu le candidat du KPRF, la principale organisation continuatrice de l’ancien PCUS et « opposition  » préférée de V. Poutine, qui lui a concédé cette fois-ci 11% des suffrages exprimés. Avec le KPRF, nous sommes dans un univers qui n’a rien à voir avec le mouvement ouvrier et donc rien à voir avec le quotidien de milliers de militants de culture communiste en France que les mots en commun ne doivent pas tromper. Rien de syndical, pas de grèves, pas de lutte contre les patrons et l’État, mais un réseau clientéliste, des potentats locaux, des liens policiers, des patrons de kolkhozes privatisés, la xénophobie, le machisme, l’antisémitisme, le racisme, l’homophobie.

    Oudaltsov s’est réellement opposé à Poutine en 2011-2012, mais son évolution politique, en cohérence avec ses origines politiques, l’a conduit à soutenir vigoureusement sa politique étrangère en Ukraine et en Syrie. C’est là une pierre de touche. L' »opposition » que veut Poutine et dont il a besoin dans certaines limites, est une « opposition » solidaire avec lui sur les intérêts fondamentaux de l’État, et particulièrement du cœur militaro-policier de l’État. Alors, J.L. Mélenchon peut dire « Ils ne pourront pas dire que je suis pro-Poutine, je suis venu voir mon ami [qu’il n’avait en fait jamais vu] opposant au président russe. » Opposant de sa majesté, qui (tant mieux pour lui) peut s’exprimer pendant que les jeunes de Penza sont torturés – sur ces derniers, pas un mot. J.L. Mélenchon n’avait aucun intérêt politique à quémander une réception de Poutine, et réciproquement. Le pouvoir russe a le plus grand sens du protocole officieux. Il fait recevoir Marine Le Pen par le président de la Douma, il autorise J.L. Mélenchon (escorté de D. Kuzmanovic arborant une croix de Saint-George, vieille décoration tsariste bannie en 1917, rétablie en 1943 et symbolisant aujourd’hui l’occupation du Donbass) à défiler quelques centaines de mètres derrière lui-même (et derrière B. Netanyahou !) dans le cadre du « défilé patriotique ».

    L’union sacrée, ou les quatre rendez-vous moscovites de J.L. Mélenchon

    J.L. Mélenchon explique avoir fait plusieurs rencontres significatives lors de ce voyage. Comme on ne fera croire à personne que, même s’il fut convenu de ne pas faire de réception officielle, celui-ci n’a pas été coorganisé avec les « organes », elles donnent donc le contenu politique du séjour.

    Premièrement, rencontre avec le « peuple russe ». Celle-ci a consisté dans la marche des Immortels, initiative venue d’en-bas mais dont l’État s’est rapidement emparé, en hommage aux morts de la guerre avec l’Allemagne hitlérienne. J.L. Mélenchon a déclaré que ce « patriotisme positif » pourrait inspirer des manifestations en France, ce qui fait penser à l’imposition de drapeaux tricolores aux manifestations « insoumises ». La manifestation du 5 mai n’a pas vraiment eu ce caractère et l’unité s’est imposée pour le 26 mai : unité des luttes sociales et non pas « patriotisme positif » !

    Deuxièmement, ce fut la rencontre avec « l’opposition », c’est-à-dire avec S. Oudaltsov, dont nous avons déjà parlé.

    Troisièmement, ce fut, juste après, une rencontre officielle avec une organisation politique française ayant une structure officielle parmi les Français de Moscou. France insoumise ? PCF ? Que nenni, il s’agit de LR, le parti de Laurent Wauquiez. Et il s’agit d’une section de LR très pro-Wauquiez, engagée (voir sa page Facebook) dans une campagne anti-immigration combinée à une campagne « géopolitique » sur ce que l’on pourrait appeler, avec et sans ironie, la « ligne Kuzmanovic » : France éternelle, ayant une « politique arabe » non alignée sur Washington, puissante en Afrique, présente sur tous les océans. De même qu’Oudaltsov soutient la politique extérieure de Poutine, cette orientation « géopolitique » et diplomatique fournit la matière de l’union sacrée Mélenchon-LR … à Moscou.

    Quatrièmement, la rencontre finale avec … le patronat, avec la Chambre de commerce franco-russe. C’est là que J.L. Mélenchon a délivré le discours final, résumé de l’orientation de son voyage : alliance franco-russe contre l’ « atlantisme », retour sur la non-vente des Mistral (négociée en 2008 par Sarkozy en contrepartie du soutien à l’occupation de l’Ossétie du Sud et de l’Abkhazie puis annulée par Hollande en raison de la crise ukrainienne).

    L’union sacrée avec LR et les patrons montre qu’il ne s’agit pas là d’une orientation « anti-impérialiste », mais du soutien à une ligne diplomatique que l’impérialisme français a toujours gardée comme option, qui passe un peu facilement pour « gaullienne » – et qui est toujours en œuvre en Afrique sud-saharienne : celle de l’affirmation autonome de l’impérialisme français.

    Kotarac au Donbass

    Parallèlement au voyage de J.L. Mélenchon à Moscou, s’effectuait courant mai le voyage d’un conseiller régional « France insoumise » de la région Auvergne-Rhône-Alpes, Andréa Kotarac, dans une zone militairement contrôlée par la Russie : le Donbass ukrainien. A. Kotarac est allé « en République populaire de Donetsk pour fêter la victoire sur les nazis et acheter du matériel pour une école maternelle détruite. »

    A. Kotarac semble s’imaginer qu’il était ainsi aux côtés de l’armée rouge d’aujourd’hui face à la Wehrmacht, représentée par l’Ukraine. Rappelons, sommairement, les faits.

    En 2014, après la chute du président ukrainien devant une insurrection populaire, l’État étant ébranlé dans tout le pays, les plus puissants oligarques capitalistes du pays, ceux de la première région industrielle qu’est le Donbass, dont est originaire le Président renversé Ianoukovytch, finançaient des « mouvements séparatistes » et une campagne d’affolement des habitants de sentiment national russe (une partie, mais pas la totalité, des russophones) de l’Est du pays. En même temps que la Crimée était annexée avec un référendum bidon, et que commençaient les arrestations arbitraires comme celles de Sentsov et Koltchenko, des « républiques populaires » étaient proclamées à Donetsk et à Louhansk.

    Comme l’expliquait en mars 2015 le premier « premier ministre » de la soi-disant République populaire, Borodaï, évincé dans l’un des nombreux affrontements mafieux des cliques et bandes au pouvoir au Donbass, tout le financement provenait du premier capitaliste d’Ukraine Rinat Akhmetov, donc pas question de « nationaliser » quoi que ce soit comme se sont plus à le faire croire bien des sites internet « anti-impérialistes ». Le Syndicat Indépendant des Mineurs, principale organisation ouvrière, qui peut exister légalement bien qu’en butte à la répression en Ukraine non occupée, est tout simplement interdit par la force dans le Donbass. Le dirigeant historique du syndicat de l’entreprise Artemsol, Yvan Reznichenko, a été retrouvé mort le 14 janvier 2015…

    Entre temps les « républiques populaires » avaient été sauvées par l’infiltration massive de l’armée russe, et elles tiennent depuis sur cette seule base. De son côté, le gouvernement ukrainien corrompu de P. Porochenko a accompagné le pourrissement de la situation et utilisé l’argument patriotique non pour combattre cette occupation de fait, mais pour réprimer ses propres opposants sérieux. Les courants les plus réactionnaires tant du côté ukrainien que du côté soi-disant séparatiste ont un important point commun : la haine des personnes LGBTIQ+, accusés d’apporter la dépravation « occidentale » à l’unisson des Poutine, des Orban et des Erdogan.

    Toutefois la situation en matière de droits n’est pas la même entre l’Ukraine et les zones occupées du Donbass : dans celle-là droit d’organisation, de propagande et élections existent officiellement, et les organisations de la société civile qui se battent contre les discriminations peuvent se faire entendre, dans celles-ci, les bandes armées au pouvoir n’ont strictement rien à faire de la légalité et du droit et ne craignent que le parrain du Kremlin. Pendant qu’Andrea Kotarac joue au héros antinazi, on torture dans les caves du Donbass.

    Refonder l’internationalisme

    Les adhérents de la France insoumise, nous les côtoyons tous les jours dans les luttes sociales et les manifestations. La plupart d’entre eux ne sont pas au courant et ne soutiennent pas, lorsqu’ils le sont, les faits exposés ici. Mais notre préoccupation n’est nullement l’édification de M.M. Mélenchon, Kuzmanovic et Kotarac. Notre préoccupation est la reconstitution, le plus rapidement possible, d’une représentation politique du monde du travail. Or, ceci est impossible sans une compréhension des réalités internationales. Plus : c’est impossible sans internationalisme réel.

    Et l’internationalisme réel a aujourd’hui un ennemi mortel, le soi-disant « anti-impérialisme » campiste, responsable du plus grand déshonneur historique de la gauche : le refus de facto de toute mobilisation sérieuse en faveur du peuple syrien contre Bachar el Assad. Des questions similaires se posent avec les oppositionnels russes, avec l’Ukraine, ou encore avec le Venezuela. Comme si nous héritions du XX° siècle son partage du monde entre Staline et Washington, avec interdiction de défendre tout combat pour la liberté dans la zone de Staline, ceci ayant pris la forme du soi-disant « anti-impérialisme ».

    Les signataires de ce texte n’ont aucune leçon à recevoir en matière d’opposition à l’impérialisme nord-américain. Ils ont manifesté et manifesteront contre Bush, contre Trump, contre le bombardement de l’Irak et l’occupation de l’Afghanistan, pour les droits nationaux des Palestiniens. Mais ceci n’a plus de sens si on soutient d’autres interventions impérialistes.

    L’impérialisme russe est faible économiquement au niveau mondial, mais pas dans la région, et pour des raisons historiques qui tiennent principalement aux ravages causés partout par la peste stalinienne, il est fort politiquement et idéologiquement, et militairement. Son influence délétère est décelable sur tout le spectre politique contemporain. Il a besoin d’interventions militaires : ce furent la Tchétchénie, puis la Géorgie, puis l’Ukraine, et maintenant la Syrie où son intervention a une ampleur comparable à celle de l’impérialisme nord-américain en Irak en 2003, avec un recours aux bombardements des populations sans précédent depuis le Vietnam. Cette intervention, stratégiquement liée pour Poutine à la maîtrise de la Crimée et de la mer Noire, a été faite au compte de toutes les forces mondiales de conservation sociale, contre la révolution syrienne et les aspirations kurdes, et en même temps elle a conduit à accroître les rivalités entre impérialismes.

    Aujourd’hui la « gauche » est aveugle. Quand Trump, Macron et May procèdent à des frappes réellement chirurgicales pour ne pas brusquer Poutine ni même Bachar tout en tentant de reprendre la main, elle s’imagine que « l’Occident bombarde la Syrie » depuis quelques semaines seulement. Quand Poutine bombarde massivement la Syrie, depuis des années, elle ne dit rien. La gauche « anti-impérialiste » et les « populistes » type Mélenchon sautent sur leurs chaises comme des cabris à propos des « sanctions » anti-russes, tout en se taisant sur les affrontements réels entre forces US et russes à Deir-es-Zor en Syrie (janvier 2018). Ignorance et hallucinations sévissent. Elles ont commencé avec l’Ukraine avec les fantasmes sur les « nazis ukrainiens » venant martyriser les « mineurs du Donbass », total délire étayé par un effroyable mixage de provocations, de crimes réels et de fakes, comme en Syrie.

    Une rupture s’impose. On ne sortira pas de l’état de stupidité actuel sans coups de pieds. La tache internationaliste la plus urgente, c’est la solidarité avec les prisonniers politiques en Russie.

    SOUTIEN À LA GRÈVE DE LA FAIM D’OLEG SENTSOV !

    DÉFENSE DE LA JEUNESSE « ANAR » OU « ANTIFA » !

    NI TRUMP, NI POUTINE (NI MACRON) : AUTO-ÉMANCIPATION !

    Commentry, le 25 mai 2018,

    Alexis Mayet, Hanna Perekhoda, Vincent Présumey

     

    Note du 27 mai :

    Depuis sa parution, cet article a été repris par le site de la campagne britannique Ukraine Solidarity Campaign (the Ukraine Solidarity Campaign seeks to organise solidarity and provide information in support of Ukrainian socialists and trade unionists).

    Originally posted at Arguments pour la lutte social.

     

  • The Vision of the New Society in Marx’s "Capital"

    ImageMarx’s Capital has been heralded for many things, but providing an exhaustive account of a future socialist society isn’t one of them.

    And for good reason, since it is exclusively concerned with delineating the law of motion of capitalism. Nevertheless, Marx’s univocal focus on the critique of capital is precisely what enables him to develop vital insights about the nature of post-capitalist society. This is because critique in the dialectical tradition does not merely disclose the limits of a phenomenon but also intimates what lies beyond it.

    This is pivotal to understanding what Marx’s Capital is truly about. It is often called a theory of capitalist development—but this is inaccurate. Capital delineates the process of capitalism’s dissolution, which, in fact, ultimately thwarts its development. Its analysis of capitalism’s law of motion shows that “under penalty of death”[1] the system must give way to a higher form of social organization—socialism or communism (these terms are completely interchangeable in Marx’s work and do not denote distinct historical stages). It should therefore come as no surprise that important discussion of the nature of a post-capitalist society appears in Capital itself.

    Capital, of course, does not and cannot provide a detailed outline of post-capitalist society. Since a positive alternative becomes knowable only through a negative critique, it can offer no more than intimationsof the future. However, these intimations—derived from a rigorous analysis and critique of the logic of capital—are of tremendous importance, since they reveal a conception of communism that is radically different from what followers as well as critics of Marx have upheld for many years. In light of the profound impasse facing social movements and radical theorists when it comes to spelling out what a viable alternative to capitalism means in the twenty-first century, it is time to re-examine these intimations with new eyes.

    As should be clear from a serious reading of Marx’s Capital, capitalism is defined neither by the existence of markets nor private property. Its distinguishing feature is rather a specific form of production relations that subjects human activity to the accumulation of wealth in monetary form, in which the augmentation of value is an end in itself. What drives this process is the peculiar social form assumed by labor in modern society. Strictly speaking, “labor” as such is not the source of all value. The value of a commodity is determined not by the actual amount of time in which it is produced but by the socially necessary labor time required to do so on a global level. This social average varies continuously, due to technological innovations that increase the productivity of labor (see Dunayevskaya 2000: 105). The average is communicated to the agents of social production post festum, through the laws of competition.[2] Workers are thereby compelled to produce in accordance with an abstract social average that operates behind their backs. Once this process is set into motion, it becomes impossible for anyone—whether workers or social planners—to exert long-term control of capital. Concrete labor (the varied kinds of labor employed in making discrete products) becomes increasingly dominated by labor that conforms to an abstract average —termed by Marx “abstract labor.”

    The preponderance of abstract over concrete labor transforms the nature of work, by making it more routinized, machine-like, and abstracted from the sensuousness of the individual. It transforms our relation to nature, since it becomes increasingly viewed as a mere externality that must serve the dictates of capital accumulation. Nature ceases to be seen as having intrinsic value (in the moral sense); natural contingency and human creativity count only insofar as they augment economic value—and if they do not, they are ignored or cast aside. And capital’s drive for self-expansion transforms the meaning of time, since both workers and capitalists become governed by an abstract, quantitative, and invariable time-determination over which they have no control. The more abstract labor becomes, the greater the amount of value produced. And the more value produced, the more that capitalism is driven to augment value (and profit) ever more. In capitalism, “Time is everything, man is nothing; he is, at most, time’s carcass. Quality no longer matters. Quantity decides everything; hour for hour, day by day” (Marx 1976, 127). Capital is an endless quest for an infinite magnitude in a finite world.

    None of this may seem to have anything to do with a post-capitalist society. However, Capital’s emphasis on the domination of human activity by abstract universal labor time intimates what must be done to transcend capitalism. It is not enough to simply abolish private property and unregulated markets, since stopping there leave production relations intact. This is no discovery of Capital, of course; Marx had already arrived at this insight in his Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts of 1844, in critiquing “crude communism” for presuming that the mere abolition of private property constitutes the transcendence of capitalism. Capital, in its entirety, is the fullest concretization of this critique.[3] And in doing so it poses a far more radical and expansive vision than those who define socialism as the abolition of market anarchy and unorganized exchange. In fact, Capital suggests that the alternative to capitalism necessarily seems to center on organizing exchange because of the nature of value production itself. The value of a commodity can never be known immediately, by looking at it in isolation; its value becomes manifest only in the exchange relation between discrete commodities. Value is therefore a “social hieroglyphic” (Marx 1977, 167) that is deep, dark, and difficult to understand. It is immediately knowable only on the level of its phenomenal expression—exchange-value. It therefore appears—virtually inevitably—that “rationally” organizing relations of exchange is the sine qua non for ending capitalism.[4] Those who remain on the surface of things—which is a great many of us—never get further than this, making it hard to grasp the radical implications of Marx’s critique of capital.[5]

    Once the proper object of critique is identified, the alternative to it becomes readily visible. Value production renders human relations indirectly social, since they are shaped and dominated by abstract forms such as money. Labor assumes a social or general character not through the self-conscious acts of the producers, but by exchange relations that are imposed upon them from without, post festum. The negation of this state of affairs necessitates that labor assume a social character prior to the exchange of products, on the basis of the communal character of production. Exchange value—which is the phenomenal expression of value production based on abstract labor—is eliminated once human relations are no longer governed by the drive to augment value. For that to happen, freely associated and non-alienated conditions of labor must come into being. Self-determined individuals distribute the elements of production according to their needs instead of being governed by forms that operate independently of them—such as by the state or the market. The labor employed in making products no longer takes on a material quality that is independent of the self-activity of the laborers. This is not simply a matter of forming small, self-contained communities that operate in a world market dominated by value production; it instead requires a communal network of associations in which value production is superseded on a global level.

    Remarkably, the fullest discussion of Marx’s concept of communism is found in the most famous section of Volume One of Capital­—“The Fetishism of Commodities and its Secret.” The fetishism of commodities is dispelled neither by the discovery of labor as the source of value nor the proletariat as the revolutionary class. This is because “the social relations between private labors appears as what they are, i.e. they do not appear as direct social relations between persons in their work, but as material relations between persons and social relations between things” (Marx 1977: 165-6). Since fetishism is adequate to the concept of capital, it can be dissolved, Marx writes, only by examining the present from the vantage point of “other forms of production.” He writes, “Let us finally imagine, for a change, an association of free men, working with the means of production held in common.” In this post-capitalist society, products are “directly objects of utility” and do not assume a value form. Exchange value and universalized commodity production come to an end. Producers decide how to make, distribute, and consume the total social product. One part is used to renew the means of production; the other “is consumed by members of the association as means of subsistence” (Marx 1977: 171-2). Marx invokes neither the market the state as the instrumentality through which this distribution of the elements of production is achieved. It is purely a matter of the self-deliberative acts of the producers. It is a planned distribution of labor time by those who are no longer subjected to socially necessary labor time. This form of organizing time is the cardinal principle of Marx’s concept of communism.

    Marx says that the same principle applies here as in commodity production to the extent that there is an equal exchange, insofar as “the share of each individual producer in the means of subsistence is determined by his labor time” (Marx 1977: 172). But the content of this exchange is radically different than in capitalism, since it is not governed by socially necessary labor time. Socially necessary labor time imposes itself as a person apart, irrespective of the sensuous needs of individuals, whereas actual labor time is the sensuous activity of individuals mediating their relations with nature. There is a parallel with commodity production only in that there is an exchange of equivalents, since one contributes a given hour of labor to the community and receives from it goods produced in that same amount of time (a given hour of labor). But since there is no social average that governs the exchange, generalized commodity production comes to an end.

    Many have argued that the abolition of capitalism entails the abolition of labor. This is true, insofar as we are speaking of labor that has the dual character of abstract vs. concrete labor. The Grundrisse specifies this by speaking of the abolition of productive labor—for which capitalism itself prepares the way. As living labor is progressively replaced by labor saving technologies, the worker “steps to the side of the production process instead of being its chief actor” (Marx 1973: 705). But does the end of productive, industrial labor signal the abolition of all forms of labor? What about kinds of labor that are not productive of surplus value in capitalism, such as labor involved in caring, nurturing, teaching, and facilitating—which some refer to as “affective labor”?

    In approaching this, it is important to note that Capital critiques capitalism on the basis of its own criteria (rather than from some external standpoint, as is true of romantics and idealists). Marx follows the procedure of Hegel, whose Phenomenology of Spirit holds that the standpoint for critiquing any given stage of consciousness is established by the criterion of consciousness itself. But critiquing a phenomenon on the basis of its criterion is not the same as normatively endorsing any particular expression of it.

    Marx’s critics often overlook this when it comes to the distinction between “productive” and “unproductive” labor. Silvia Frederici, for one, has argued that Marx “idealized industrial labor as the normative form of social production” (Federici 2017: 80). However, Marx does not say that industrial or productive labor—which he defines as labor that produces surplus value—is “better” than unproductive labor. On the contrary, he states in Capital “to be a productive laborer is a misfortune” (Marx 1977: 644). Nor does he suggest that unproductive labor is unnecessary (surely, labor power cannot augment surplus value if it is not reproduced in the domestic sphere). Marx is pursuing a different question—namely, what social relations are necessary for the production of surplus value? He does so in order to pinpoint how to abolish value production. With the end of capitalism, the very distinction between necessary and surplus labor, as well between productive and unproductive labor, becomes completely superfluous.

    As Rosa Luxemburg argued, for capitalism “only that work is productive which produces surplus value…while all the toil of the women and mothers of the proletariat within the four walls of the home is considered unproductive work. This sounds crude and crazy, but it is an accurate expression of the crudeness and craziness of today’s capitalist economic order.” She added, “Millions of proletarian women produce capitalist profit just like men, in homework industries” (Luxemburg 2006: 241). It is possible to produce profit without producing surplus value. That doesn’t make one less important.[6]

    So can labor that is not productive of surplus value play a critical role in a post-capitalist society? Marx thinks so, as seen both from Capital and his 1875 Critique of the Gotha Program. In discussing the initial phase of socialism or communism, he writes that the producers “do not exchange their products; just as little does the labor employed on the product appear here as the value of these products, as a material quality possessed by them, since now, in contrast to capitalist society, individual labor no longer exists in an indirect fashion but directly as a component part of the total labor” (Marx 1989: 86). Generalized commodity exchange is possible only if there is a social substance—abstract labor—that makes it possible for products of labor to be universally exchanged. But with democratic, freely associated control of the means of production, abstract labor comes to an end. And since abstract labor is the substance of value, value production also comes to an end—not only in the higher but also in the “lower,” initial phase of communism.

    But labor itself does not come to end. Instead, actual labor time serves as the measure for distributing the elements of production. Marx writes, “The individual producer receives back from society—after the deductions have been made—exactly what he gives to it. What he has given to it is his individual quantum of labor.” Individuals receive from society a voucher or token that they have “furnished such and such an amount of labor (after deducting his labor for the common funds)” and from it obtains “the social stock of means of consumption as much as the amount of labor costs” (Marx 1989: 86). As in Capital, Marx is not suggesting that the worker’s labor is computed on the basis of a social average of labor time. Here, labor time simply refers to the actual amount of hours of work performed by the individual in a given cooperative.

    These passages should not be read, in my view, as a normative projection of how a socialist society emerging from the womb of capitalism ought to be organized. Marx is not writing blueprints for the future. It may be that a voucher system is unviable given certain circumstances, just the relative weight assigned to labor may be different today compared with when Marx wrote 150 years ago (the same is true of the length of any initial phase). Marx is instead trying to think out how a fundamental break can be made from value production even when labor as a socially constitutive activity that mediates our relations with nature remains integral to social existence.[7]

    Nevertheless, Marx’s discussion in the 1875 Critique is widely misread—including by many independent Marxists. An essay in a recent issue of Endnotes, for instance, takes Marx’s discussion of distribution according to actual labor time as signifying that “For Marx, it is only in the higher phase that domination is actually overcome” (Endnotes 2015, 186). This is clearly not so, since in the lower phase there are no classes, no alienated labor, no commodity exchange, and no value production. Nor does Marx suggest that in the lower phase “the same principle will apply as in bourgeois society.” He instead writes that “the same principle prevails as in the exchange of commodities” (Marx 1989, 86)—and that in a formal sense alone, in that a quid pro quoprevails in which one labors so many hours and receives goods and services made in that many hours. But the form of this exchange (which is superseded in a higher phase) is a world removed from the exchange of abstract equivalents in capitalism, which of course takes place behind the backs of the producers. Far from “universalizing” domination as “the precursor to the end of domination” (Endnotes 2015, p. 185), Marx’s discussion of distribution according to actual (not abstract!) labor time posits the liberating conditions that make it possible to ultimately reach “From each according to their ability, to each according to their need.”

    While Endnotes gets tied up in knots when it comes to the lower phase, it does not critique Marx’s discussion of a higher phase, in which labor no longer serves as the measure for distributing the elements of production. But it runs into a problem here as well, since Marx explicitly holds that labor is not abolished in a higher phase of communism either! In a higher phase, “labor has become not only a means of life but the prime necessity of life” (Marx 1989: 87). To be sure, labor as a means toward an end, as an instrumental activity defining industrial capitalism, is abolished long before this. However, Marx’s discussion of distribution according to actual labor time in Capital and the Critique of the Gotha Program does not refer to productive labor that augments value, since the value-form is abolished by the time of the lower phase. He does not conflate all kinds of labor with instrumental labor. “Labor” also includes affective activities, such as caring, nurturing, and sharing, as ends-in-themselves. As he writes in Capital, “labor is the universal condition for the metabolic interaction between man and nature, the everlasting nature-imposed condition of human existence, and it is therefore…common to all forms of society in which humans live” (Marx 1976: 290).

    Many feminist theorists have criticized Marx—rightly in my view—for saying little about women’s domestic labor in Capital.[8] This limitation may be explained by Marx’s effort to emphasize the deleterious impact of labor performed for the sake of augmenting surplus value. But it is still an unfortunate limitation, since it has made it easier for some to read Capital in a narrow, productivist manner—such as by defining communism as the realm in which the power of industrial labor is fully actualized. However, it does not follow from this that Marx’s “concept of communism ignores the largest activity on this planet” (Federici 2017: 90)—the affective labor often carried out by women. The opposite is in fact the case. Capital focuses on productive, instrumental labor because that is the kind of labor that can and must be dispensed with in a new society—after all, where there is no value production, there can be no labor that augments surplus value. But he does not suggest that all forms of labor, including affective ones, come to an end. Since his concept of communism envisions a wider and more enriched scope for the affective labor that is de-valued in capitalism, it is consistent with efforts to conceive of social relations based on caring, nurturing, and loving.

    I am not suggesting that affective labor as it exists today can by itself constitute the alternative to instrumental, alienated labor. Affective labor is clearly shaped by class relations and has become increasingly commodified—as anyone who works in health care and education can attest. However, there is a big difference between affective and productive labor even in capitalism: The later can be automated very nearly out of existence whereas jobs that require “uniquely human characteristics such as empathy, creativity, judgment, or critical thinking will never succumb to widespread automation” (Smith 2014). There is an even bigger difference between them when it comes to socialism, since productive labor that augments surplus value must be abolished for there to be any chance to exit from capitalism, whereas affective labor that is freed from class domination and commodification can become the basis of totally new human relations.

    Contrary to the claim that Marx’s distinction of productive and unproductive labor devalues the contributions of those working outside the factory, I argue that this very distinction enables a Marxian critique to value that which capitalism devalues—affective forms of labor that are not a mere means to an end, but function as ends in themselves. If he had treated affective labor as value creating, then the abolition of value production would also entail the demise—and ultimately, the devaluation—of affective labor itself. This would rob us of access to the source from which totally new human relations can be developed as the alternative to the all-dominating power of capital.

    The objective conditions facing us today are very different from those prevailing when Marx wrote Capital—­even if the logic of his argument anticipates them. Foremost among these is that the displacement of living labor by machines and automated devices has proceeded so far that it seems naïve to presume that that the expropriators will be expropriated simply by obtaining public ownership of the existing productive apparatus. Given the nature of today’s capitalism, it appears that a radical supersession of the very distinction between productive and unproductive labor, as well as between labor and other forms of human interaction, is a necessary condition for a post-capitalist future. This does not mean that the working class has eased to be the subject of its own emancipation; the industrial working class was never more than 35% of the wage earners of a given nation, and at no time in history has there been more wage earners than today (there are several billion of them). But it does mean that the logic of capital is generating a world defined by underemployment, unemployment and precariousness, in which racism, sexism, and environmental destruction are increasingly pivotal. A humanist response to the crisis of capital, as against a class-reductionist one, is called for.[9]

    Of course, many today refrain from envisioning the transcendence of capitalism now that the industrial proletariat is a shrinking percentage of the workforce, and focus instead on capital’s all-pervasive dominance. Some have even tried to read such a standpoint back into Marx, by distinguishing between the “esoteric” Marx who coldly analyzed the logic of capital versus the “exoteric” Marx who supported workers’ struggles and proletarian revolution. But such a separation between subjective and objective is alien to dialectics—and Marx was, if nothing else, a dialectician. He never made a secret that Capital was written to and for the dispossessed. That sets the standard for what needs to be done in light of the radically different realities of our era.

    Notes

    [1] Marx writes in Capital, Vol. I, chapter 15, “Modern Industry, indeed, compels society, under penalty of death, to replace the detail-worker of today, grappled by life-long repetition of one and the same trivial operation, and thus reduced to the mere fragment of a man, by the fully developed individual, fit for a variety of labors, ready to face any change of production, and to whom the different social functions he performs, are but so many modes of giving free scope to his own natural and acquired powers” (Marx 1977, 618)

    [2] It is important to note (contra to the neo-classical theory of competition, which even some Marxists tend to follow) that it is not competition that drives value production; rather, the drive to level the playing field by having discrete units of capital adhere to socially necessary labor time expresses itself on the surface level of society, in competition.

    [3] See for instance Capital, Vol. III: “Capital…now receives the form the social capital…in contrast to private capital, and its enterprises appear as social enterprises as opposed to private ones. This is the abolition of capital as private property within the confines of the capitalist mode of production itself” (Marx 1981, 567).

    [4] While the most obvious form of organizing exchange is the statist command economies of Soviet-type societies, Marx’s critique of Proudhon, who opposed the state in favor decentralized producer cooperatives, indicates that there are other varieties as well.

    [5] This is especially expressed in the tendency of many commentators on Marx to emphasize the distinction between the use-value and exchange-value of a commodity (a notion that was no discovery of Marx’s), while neglecting the all-important distinction between value and exchange-value.

    [6] It is no secret that without unproductive labor within the domestic sphere, productive labor in the public sphere cannot be maintained and reproduced. But that is a separate issue from whether the former is productive of surplus value. By analogy, laboring activity cannot be maintained without breathing; but that does not mean that breathing is the source of a commodity’s value. I need not add that this does not make breathing any less important or “necessary.”

    [7] For more on this, see Hudis 2013.

    [8] For an excellent survey of these debates, see Brown 2013.

    [9] For more on this, see Hudis 2015.

     

    References

    Brown, Heather. 2013. Marx on Gender and the Family: A Critical Study. Chicago: Haymarket Books.

    Dunayevskaya, R. (2000). Marxism and Freedom, from 1776 Until Today. Amherst, NY: Humanity Books.

    Endnotes. (2015). “A History of Separation,” pp. 70-193. October.

    Federici, S. (2017). “Capital and Gender,” in Reading ‘Capital’ Today, eds. I. Schmidt and C. Fanelli.

    Hudis, P. (2013). Marx’s Concept of the Alternative to Capitalism. Chicago: Haymarket.

    Hudis, P. (2015). Frantz Fanon, Philosopher of the Barricades. London: Pluto Press.

    Marx, K. (1973). Grundrisse, trans. M. Nicholas. New York: Penguin.

    Marx, K. (1976). The Poverty of Philosophy, in Marx-Engels Collected Works, Vol. 6. New York: International Publishers

    Marx, K. (1977). Capital, Vol. I, trans. B. Fowkes. New York: Penguin.

    Marx, K. (1989). Critique of the Gotha Program, in Marx-Engels Collected Works, Vol. 24. New York: International Publishers.

    Smith, A. (2014). “AI, Robotics, and the Future of Jobs,” Pew Research Center  [http:www.pewinternet.org/2014/08/06/future-of-jobs].

    Originally posted at Logos Journal.
     
  • One Massacre, Many Partners in Crime

    ImageOne hundred and seven Palestinians have been killed and more than 10,000 wounded by Israeli troops over the past seven weeks along the border fence between the Gaza Strip and Israel. The Palestinians stormed the fence and Israeli soldiers responded with live fire. On the bloodiest day, May 14, when the new American embassy in Jerusalem was inaugurated, 61 demonstrators were slain. This massacre was not necessary: the IDF did not need to employ snipers to cut down young people who galloped toward the bullets, and Hamas could have prevented those youngsters from approaching the fence. A quiet protest would have been no less effective.

    The protest was not quiet because both sides – the Israeli right-wing government and the Hamas government in Gaza – provided an identical, although uncoordinated, script. Israel supplied the snipers and Hamas, the victims. There is no doubt that those who squeezed the trigger are responsible for the massacre, and they must be held to account. But once again, the massacre could have been prevented! After all, when it ends, each side will claim victory. However, Israel lost the public relations battle. However, with Trump calling the shots, public opinion is a negligible factor. Hamas, for its part, did not manage to achieve what it most needed, that is to lift the siege of Gaza.

    The fence that separates Israel from Gaza is not a border. It is a fence that encircles the world’s largest open-air prison, where 2 million Palestinians live in worse conditions than those in Israeli prisons, who at least receive three meals a day. Gaza is not a state. It is controlled by Israel, who is the sole sovereign in Gaza, even after having withdrawn its army and settlers.

    Israel’s unilateral disengagement from Gaza did not change Gaza’s legal status. In 2005, Israel withdrew from the Gaza Strip without any agreement. The area remained for a short period under the control of the PA (Palestinian Authority) and, after a bloody military coup in June 2007, the territory fell to Hamas control. The PA in Ramallah does not recognize Hamas’ rule, and thanks to Ariel Sharon’s “wise” policy of leaving unilaterally, Gaza became a No Man’s Land. Israel has an interest in maintaining the Hamas regime in order to preserve the political and geographic divide between Gaza and the West Bank. For this reason, responsibility for Gaza’s humanitarian disaster can be placed at Israel’s door. All the above pertains to the ‘here and now’, and not to the Nakba which took place 70 years ago.

    Despite the fact that Israel is directly responsible for what is happening in Gaza, it is secondary to the ongoing struggle between Hamas and Fatah over control of the Palestinian Authority. While Israel imposes a siege on Gaza, Abu Mazen (Mahmoud Abbas) makes sure to tighten the noose. While Hamas exploits the struggle against Israel to attack Abu Mazen and undermine PA legitimacy in Ramallah, Abu Mazen is using the humanitarian crisis in Gaza to subdue Hamas and make life difficult for Israel.

    As Israel turns a cold shoulder to Abu Mazen and basks in Trump’s support, Abu Mazen is turning the screws and creating conditions that will ultimately force Hamas into a conflict with Israel. He keeps fuel from reaching power stations in Gaza, prevents drugs from reaching Gaza hospitals, and avoids paying salaries to PA officials employed in Gaza. He is bringing Gaza to the brink of starvation, poverty and darkness. Life in Gaza is impossible. The Israeli government and army are opposed to Abu Mazen’s policy, but they are not taking action to change the situation. Thus, when Hamas orchestrates the “March of Return,” Abu Mazen condemns Hamas for encouraging children to be killed at the fence.

    Israel, the PA, and Hamas are the main actors in the tragedy playing out before our eyes. But there are others who are no less important: the Muslim Brotherhood headed by Turkish President Erdogan and, as expected, Qatar. There’s also Egypt and Saudi Arabia, both being led by Donald Trump, whose commitment to his evangelical base brings him to a one-sided support of Israel.

    In this tragedy there is no good and bad, there’s only bad.And following the massacre in Gaza, it is difficult to determine who is worse: Erdogan joined forces with Putin and allowed Iran and the Russians to commit atrocities and occupy the city of Aleppo; Sisi massacred 2,600 Muslim Brotherhood demonstrators in Cairo’s Rabaa al-Adawiya Square during the military coup; Hamas maintains a cruel and dictatorial regime that suppresses any opposition, and Abu Mazen reached a new low by expressing anti-Semitic positions while maintaining close security coordination with Israel in order to ensure his autocratic rule. It is impossible to separate what is happening in Gaza from what is happening in the Arab world and in the internal Palestinian arena. The Israeli Right is alive and kicking, fuelled by the Fascist crusade now sweeping the world – from Washington, through Europe, Russia, and Turkey to the Middle East.

    The humanitarian situation in Gaza cannot be resolved when the Right rules in Israel without serious opposition. It cannot be settled with Abu Mazen as head of the PA, it cannot be solved when Sisi controls the Rafah crossing, and it will not be solved when Hamas subordinates the situation of Gaza to its narrow interests – first and foremost to consolidate its rule and defeat Fatah.

    In light of the danger of humanitarian collapse, various “solutions” are floating around which, until now, have produced nothing. The Israeli army is interested in giving Hamas a floating port off the coast of Gaza, and Transportation Minister Yisrael Katz supports it. Many demand that Israel agree to a hudna (cease-fire) with Hamas in order to ensure a temporary quiet. Some demand that Abu Mazen end the security coordination in order to pressure Israel to ease the military blockade of Gaza. And there are those who demand an end to the siege without preconditions. Nonetheless, all these solutions have many opponents with conflicting interests.

    In Abu Mazen’s view, if Israel were to lift the siege on Gaza and normalize life there, this would perpetuate the division between Gaza under Hamas and the West Bank under Fatah, burying the idea of a Palestinian state. Egypt opposes a Hamas entity affiliated with the Muslim Brotherhood bordering Sinai. The Israeli Right wants to tame Hamas, as is evident from the words of Defense Minister Avigdor Lieberman “rehabilitation in exchange for demilitarization”, while Hamas argues that its weapons of resistance are sacred and are not negotiable.

    Therefore, in the current political situation, there is no one to save Gaza. As long as the Right controls Israel, and the Palestinian people are at the mercy of Fatah and Hamas, there is no hope on the horizon. The policy of “sit and do nothing”—of managing rather than solving the crisis—is not an Israeli invention. It is dictated by the White House. It is not just employed here, but also in Syria, Libya, Yemen and Iraq. It is no accident that Netanyahu shuttles between Putin and Trump, dancing to their tune. He is facing Hamas in Gaza and Iran in Syria without having much in his tool box other than planes and snipers.

    The solution in Gaza is connected to a solution in the West Bank, in Syria and in Egypt. There are those who are looking for a quick fix, floating ideas about lifting the siege and the two-state solution without examining an alternative economic and political vision. On the other hand, there are those who think that it is possible to stand up for human rights in Gaza while at the same time supporting the massive uprooting and murder of Syrians by Assad. They have lost their moral compass. The solution is to create an Israeli-Palestinian political movement that will demand democracy and equality for all. This is the only counter-balance to the Israeli Right, Fatah and Hamas – those who have brought us to this precipice.

    – Translated from the Hebrew by Robert Goldman

    Originally posted at Challenge Magazine

  • A Report from Barcelona

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    Barcelona has once again become a center of radical politics. After decades of brutal repression under Franco, the Left has returned and the city is alive with political activity. Of course, the Left of 2018 is not the same Left that controlled Barcelona during the first months of the Spanish Civil War.

    The Struggle for Independence

    Media coverage of the situation in Catalonia has focused on the struggle for independence.  There is no doubt that this has become a bitter confrontation. Those who support independence point out that there had been an agreement under which Catalonia was granted considerable autonomy. Yet when the Catalonian parliament approved progressive legislation, such as a ban on fracking and an end to bull fighting, as well as the levying of taxes targeting the affluent, the Spanish Constitutional Court stepped in to nullify the legislation. It was this decision that fuelled the upsurge in support for independence.

         Nevertheless, popular opinion remains split on the issue, with a substantial segment of the populace continuing to hold the belief that Catalonia should remain a region within Spain. In this context, the push for independence has reached a stalemate, as Spanish courts continue to arrest and detain independence leaders on the charge of sedition. The lack of unity in popular opinion has prevented the supporters of independence from organizing the mass protests, occupations and general strikes that would be required to force the Spanish government to accept a binding referendum.

         For now, the broad coalition supporting independence has shifted the focus of its efforts to a defense of democratic rights. Signs calling for the freeing of political prisoners can be seen everywhere in Barcelona. A cluster of tents in the main square has been erected as a symbolic occupation in support of those being held in jail. Whatever one’s position on Catalonian independence, there can be no justification for the dictatorial acts of the Spanish government. Furthermore, the people of Catalonia have the right to determine for themselves whether they should remain a part of Spain or form an independent state.

    International Women’s Day

    Yet the struggle for independence is only one of several movements that are able to mobilize huge numbers of protestors. These demonstrations are able to bridge the divide arising for the call for independence. We arrived in Barcelona a few days after International Women’s Day, March 8. On that day, a rally brought 500,000 people on to the streets of Barcelona. Men were encouraged to bring their children, thus assuming parental responsibility.  Throughout Catalonia, even in small towns, there were similar rallies on March 8. Indeed, International Women’s Day was celebrated by mass rallies in much of Spain.

         The protests in Barcelona were coordinated by a network of grass-roots community based feminist organizations. While organizing the march and rally, feminist organizations began calling for a one day general strike. Both of the anarchist unions, the CGT and the CNT, were supportive, but the two largest unions, the UGT and the CCOO, were uncooperative. Finally, under pressure from their women members, both of the mainstream unions agreed to support a two-hour general strike on March 8, a considerable victory for grass-roots activists.

    The Broader Movement

    Political activity takes many forms in Barcelona. During our time there, tens of thousands demonstrated in opposition to a cost of living increase for pensioners that fell far short of the rate of inflation. These protests reflected the enormous popular discontent with the drastic austerity measures imposed by the European Union and the International Monetary Fund in the wake of the global collapse of a decade ago.

         While the economy sputters, housing prices in Barcelona continue to soar. In part, this has resulted from the many tourists flocking to the city. In addition, neighborhoods in the city center have been gentrified as the very wealthy opt to own an apartment in this ancient and beautiful metropolis. Most of these flats remain unoccupied for much of the year as working people find themselves crammed into less and less space. Community organizations have mobilized to oppose gentrification and anarchist groups have been active in blocking evictions. Signs declaring that Barcelona can not be bought are highly visible in the contested neighborhoods.

    A Radical Party Arises

    Barcelona is a city with a revolutionary past and a radical present. It is a place of ferment where new ideas are welcomed and conservative traditions no longer hold sway. From this mix of social movements, a new political party has emerged, the Popular Unity Candidacy (CUP), bringing together activists with a range of perspectives, both socialist and anarchist.

         CUP developed out of grass-roots community organizations that first presented candidates at a municipal level. Since 2012, it has fielded candidates for the Catalonian legislature. At the last election in 2017, the party received 4.5% of the total vote and elected four of its members to the Catalonian parliament. Still, the CUP continues to uphold one of its core values by functioning as a decentralized organization in which a great deal of power remains at the local level. Electoral politics remains a secondary concern to movement building in communities and at the workplace.

         General policy guidelines for the CUP for Catalonia are set every six months at an assembly in which every active member can vote. Currently, there are two thousand members who are active at the local level, most of whom participate at the assembly level.

         The CUP is committed to a socialist feminist perspective and it works hard to ensure that women fully participate in the party.   As a result, the percentage of women in the party has doubled, increasing from about twenty percent of the total membership to nearly forty percent. Of course, CUP women were active in organizing the International Women’s Day demonstration and pushing for a general strike that day, but the commitment to feminism goes beyond this. There are strict term limits on those holding office and the party makes sure women are fully represented among those authorized to speak to the media. Furthermore, CUP members in the Catalonian parliament are held strictly accountable to the party’s guidelines as determined by a democratic process.

         CUP views itself as a party committed to a set of principles grounded in revolutionary socialism. For this to be more than rhetoric, the organization needs to formulate a program that pushes the limits of the possible within a global capitalist system. CUP calls for an independent Catalonia that will be independent of the European Union and NATO. It also stands for the repudiation of enormous government debt incurred during the economic collapse of the last decade. CUP would also bring the banks into the public sector without any compensation, pointing to the vast subsidies given the financial sector during the crash. These demands are the start of a transitional program, although one that needs further development before it can provide the basis for a socialist transformation of society.

         During the last year, the CUP has worked within a parliamentary coalition with the two larger, mainstream pro-independence parties. At the same time, the CUP sought to pursue its own socialist agenda. Obviously there is a tension between these two strategies. Recently the party has openly broken with the independence bloc by refusing to support a joint candidate for president of Catalonia. In doing so, the CUP stated clearly that it would focus its energies on building grass-roots movements for fundamental change and would not limit its efforts to support for a broad coalition demanding the restoration of basic civil liberties.

         The CUP has its problems but nevertheless it provides an interesting model for anti-authoritarian leftists in the more economically developed countries. It proves that a viable organization of radicals can be built in a post-industrial society. While linking itself to the past, especially the inspiring examples of worker self-management created during the Spanish Civil War, the CUP understands that it needs to take into account the distinctive consciousness of the current period.

         Socialism can not be built in one country, but rather it requires a revolutionary movement that crosses national boundaries. The CUP needs to strengthen its ties to groups with a similar perspective in Europe and throughout the world. Perhaps this time the radical Left can build an international that is not dominated by one organization, but instead acts as a true federation of organizations committed to a common goal, the revolutionary transformation of capitalist society.

  • The Imperial Realignment of the Middle East

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    US President Donald Trump’s ripping up of the Iran nuclear pact, his shocking relocation of the US Embassy to Jerusalem, and Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu’s equally shocking mass murder of peaceful Palestinian demonstrators has revealed the utter depravity of today’s rulers.  Despite their sometimes chaotic and reckless appearance, however, these moves amount to nothing short of a breathtaking attempt by the US, with its Israeli and Saudi allies, to realign Middle East politics by creating an uncontested hegemony for the entire region.  To this end, Iran must be crushed as a rival subimperialist power, Russia and Turkey dealt in or sidelined, and both the remainder of the Arab revolutions and newly resurgent Palestinian movement repressed.

    These new moves transpired in just a week, which shook up global politics in ways that go far beyond the almost daily war threats and general chaos of the Trump administration.

    Three Hegemonic Moves

    First, on May 8, Trump announced that he was abandoning the Iran nuclear pact, that the US would restore its harsh pre-2015 economic sanctions, and that these would be applying not only to Iran itself, but to any entity trading with Iran.  This was already foretold last May when Trump visited Saudi Arabia and threatened Iran with nuclear destruction, and even earlier during his racist, Islamophobic election campaign.  It remains to be seen, however, whether the European Union, Russia, and China will bow to this kind of US pressure.  So far, the signs are that these other powers will resist the US, and they have some key economic cards of their own to play.  They genuinely fear that Iran will resume its nuclear weapons program now that the US has backed out of the agreement and are desperately trying to hold it together in order to avert war.

    However, Trump and his ultra-hawkish National Security Advisor, John Bolton, seem to have plans for Iran that go beyond merely economic pressure.  Netanyahu’s Israel, the only state in the region that actually has nuclear weapons, has at times seemed ready to attack Iran. The sectarian Sunni fundamentalist rulers of Saudi Arabia wish publicly nearly every day for some kind of military attack on Iran, though it is doubtful that their lavishly funded but ineffective military forces would be up to something like that. But at the very least, it seems that some kind of air campaign against Iran is being considered by Trump and Netanyahu. This could lead to confrontation in the Persian Gulf, potentially blocking a major source of oil for much of the world, as well as one between Israel and Iranian or pro-Iranian forces across its borders with Lebanon and Syria.

    Second, on the morning of May 14, just six days after Trump’s announcement about Iran, the mass Palestinian demonstrations against being walled in to Gaza reached their climax, with 35,000 women, children and men approaching the border in a nonviolent demonstration. In response, the Israeli armed forces escalated what they had begun on March 30, the first demonstration.  This time, Israeli snipers from afar murdered no fewer than 59 people, and wounded over a thousand, including a number of medics and journalists. 

    Third, a few hours later on the same day, and only 40 miles away from the Gaza carnage, the ceremony Trump and Netanyahu had scheduled to mark the relocation of the US Embassy to Jerusalem took place as planned.  Ivanka Trump participated in a photo op and Jared Kushner spoke insipidly about the glories of the Israeli state and the need for a solid peace plan.  Among the religious figures the US invited to “sanctify” this usurpation of land that is supposed to be divided in a final peace settlement were two fundamentalist Christian ministers best known for their Islamophobic, racist, and even anti-Semitic utterances.  But that was no problem for this depraved US administration, as it was a deliberate move to shore up Trump’s base among evangelical Christians, who dream of Armageddon in a very specific way that entails the propping up of the existing Israeli state.

    While the chaotic Trump is certainly a wild card in all this, as is the bombastic Netanyahu, there are some other wild cards that the rulers have hardly considered, among them the aspirations of the Palestinian and the Iranian people.

    A New Stage of Palestinian Resistance

    The Palestinian movement has been deeply divided for over a decade between the more secular nationalist Fateh movement, which controls the West Bank, and the more Islamist Hamas movement, which controls Gaza.  In recent years, Hamas and other Islamist militants have fought against several Israeli invasions of Gaza, also lobbing rockets on occasion into Israel in a manner more symbolic than military, since they almost always fall short.  Fateh, which controls the Palestinian Authority in the West Bank, has become very discredited due to corruption and craven deals with the Israeli authorities.

    During the past year, new movements have emerged from below.  Last July, for example, a mass movement of Jerusalem Palestinians successfully protested in order to prevent new and more intrusive Israeli security measures around the Muslim holy places in the city. 

    Last December, in the wake of Trump’s announcement of the relocation of the US Embassy, some young Palestinians from Gaza began a Facebook campaign for actions in spring 2018 at the Gaza-Israel border.  As with the 2011 Arab revolutions, these posts went viral, as many youths joined in.  Soon, thousands had committed themselves to nonviolent action at the border. 

    Since it began March 30, the global and especially US media have insisted on calling this a Hamas demonstration, with US media emphasizing the violence from “both sides,” as if flaming kites are equivalent to snipers with assault rifles in fortified bunkers beyond the reach of the other side.  (These “objective” journalists would do well to remember the 1976 Soweto demonstrations when Black teenagers and children “armed” with rocks and garbage can lids as shields were massacred by South African apartheid machine guns. Does anyone today consider this a “violent” demonstration?). In fact, the newest Gaza demonstrations mark an important change from militaristic actions of small groups in “armed struggle” against the occupier to the rebirth of a mass movement on the streets and in the fields. 

    Listen to the words of Ahmed Abu Ratima, whose December 9 Facebook post, “just a few days after President Trump announced he would recognize Jerusalem as the capital of Israel,” helped touch off a mass movement at the Gaza border fence: “Still, despite the response from Israeli snipers, I continue to be committed to nonviolence, as are all of the other people ‘coordinating’ this march. I use quotation marks because when a movement becomes this large — attracting what we estimate to be as many as 200,000 people on Fridays — it cannot be completely controlled. We discouraged the burning of Israeli flags and the attachment of Molotov cocktails to kites. We want peaceful, equal coexistence to be our message” (Ahmed Abu Ratima, “I Helped Start the Gaza Protests. I Don’t Regret It,” New York Times 5/14/18)

    This kind of statement, plus the donning of Guy Fawkes masks — worn Occupy style — by a number of demonstrators, suggest a movement more akin to the Arab revolutions of 2011 than the authoritarian and militaristic politics of Hamas. 

    Therefore, I think it is clear that a new generation of Palestinian youth has emerged, imbued with the global spirit of twenty-first-century revolution.  (That does not mean that Hamas has not, and will not in the future, try to take over the movement, as the Muslim Brotherhood did in Egypt.)

    Another indicator of just how new and fundamentally progressive this movement is, and how reactionary the Israeli state has become, is seen in the kind of women protestors who have emerged.  Some are intensely religious Hamas supporters, others secular leftwing feminists, but all have been in the forefront of the recent demonstrations, at the risk of their lives. Take for example Jumana Adnan Mushtaha, a journalism student who works with a committee documenting the demonstrations.  She also thinks very critically about social issues within the Palestinian community: “She holds that religion, not politics, imposes the biggest obstacle to women’s ambitions and aspirations: ‘When I want to go out, it takes a long time to convince my parents. I begin with my mother, then she convinces my father. After 5PM, I cannot go out alone, to avoid being regarded askance, as if I’m doing something wrong.’ In that case, her brother accompanies her when she takes photos” (Piotr Smolar, “A Gaza, les femmes en première ligne,” Le Monde 5/15/18).

    As for the State of Israel, listen to the retrograde sexism of Army spokesman Avichay Adraee, in a Twitter message of April 5 attacking Palestinian women demonstrators: “A good woman is one who concerns herself with her home and her children.  The depraved woman bereft of honor does not concern herself with these things but acts in a wild manner at variance with her feminine nature, and cares nothing for how she is perceived by society” (Piotr Smolar, “A Gaza, les femmes en première ligne,” Le Monde 5/15/18).  While such statements are indeed shocking, they are in keeping with Israel’s steady evolution toward a rightwing theocratic state. As celebrated Israeli historian Zeev Sternhell noted recently, political leaders whose formulations flirt increasingly with “a racism similar that of early Nazism” (“En Israël pousse un racisme proche du nazisme à ses débuts,” Le Monde 2/19/18).

    On May 18, five days after the massacre of May 14, thousands of Palestinians again returned to the Gaza border.  While up to now the West Bank and Jerusalem have been less active on the streets, partly due to machinations by the Palestinian Authority, this could change on a dime.  As veteran independent nationalist Mustapha Barghouti put it recently: “A national movement on the part of all Palestinians is possible” (Allan Kaval, “La Colère rentrée des Palestiniens de Cisjordanie,” Le Monde 5/18/18).

    Moreover, while the Palestinians are more isolated than before in terms of support from other countries in the Middle East, with Egypt and the Saudis in a virtual alliance with Israel, their popular support, not only in the region but globally, has never been higher. And this will surely grow in the wake of the latest Israeli massacres and the mass creativity exhibited by the Palestinian people.

    Iran in Trump’s Crosshairs

    Netanyahu waited less than 48 hours after Trump pulled the US out of the nuclear agreement to bomb Iranian facilities in Syria, where the Iranian regime has unconscionably propped up the murderous Assad regime as it has slaughtered 500,000 in suppressing the revolution. But Netanyahu has zero concern for the Syrian people, any more than he has for those of the rest of the peoples of the Middle East. 

    As with the Gaza massacre, the US praised Israel’s air attack, but this is nothing new.  Nor is Trump’s bellicosity toward Iran an anomaly, as it is shared by virtually all Republican leaders and a number of mainstream Democrats as well.  Recall that Obama’s support for the 2015 nuclear agreement was almost voted down by the Senate, with some liberals like present Democratic Minority Leader Chuck Schumer joining Republicans in an attempt to scuttle it.

    But with Trump’s appointment of Bolton as National Security Adviser, things seem to have gone beyond rhetoric and posturing, to an actual threat of war against Iran. In Bolton, we now have a fanatical militarist as the closest person besides Trump to the nuclear button. Bolton is particularly close to the Mujahideen-e-Khalq or MEK, a once-revolutionary Iranian group that operates in a cult like fashion and which sided with Saddam Hussein during the 1980s Iraq War, and since then with the US and Israel.  Bolton and Trump seem think they can make the MEK a vehicle of “regime change” inside Iran. On its face, this strains credulity, but we have seen stranger things happen before, for example during Bush’s invasion of Iraq.

    Inside Iran, the economy has taken a dive with the collapse of the currency in April, possibly in anticipation of the end of the nuclear agreement and a return to severe economic sanctions.  Iran has also experienced considerable internal, class-based unrest this year, most notably the January uprising in impoverished rural areas.  Labor unrest has broken out again at the Haft Tapeh sugar factory, a frequent site of strikes and protests over unpaid wages in the past.  

    But this spring, the labor actions seem larger and more determined. As Asa Fitch summed it up for the Wall Street Journal on May 6, “Teachers went on strike in central Iran’s city of Yazd. Steelworkers and hospital staff walked off the job in the southwest city of Ahvaz. Railway employees protested near Tabriz. And a bus driver’s union in Tehran battled the private companies that control many city routes.”  In addition, a group of Iranian labor activists inside the country and their supporters issued a widely circulated May Day statement calling for a nationwide labor organization independent of the state: https://www.imhojournal.org/articles/may-day-call-from-inside-iran/

    Some of this year’s popular protests have also targeted Iran’s subimperialist involvement in Syria and Lebanon, and the untold economic cost of such actions in faraway lands. 

    We have also seen increasingly bold women’s protests against compulsory hijab (headscarves). A succession of young women has publicly unveiled, accepting arrest and imprisonment, with massive sympathetic coverage in social media.

    But Wall Street Journal readers should not delude themselves that Iran is ready for US-style “regime change.”  This was tried once before, in 1980, when the US and some European powers encouraged Iraq’s Saddam Hussein to invade the new Islamic Republic of Iran. This resulted in a tragic nine-year war that killed hundreds of thousands on both sides and allowed the Iranian regime to consolidate itself in the face of strong leftist opposition. Times today are certainly different, but the myopia of US war hawks remains just as dangerous.

    What we do face today from Trump, Netanyahu, and the Saudis, is the real danger of another largescale war in the Middle East. This is the case more than at any time since Bush’s Iraq War was being prepared in 2002. An imperialist war against Iran, a much larger country than Iraq and with allied militias all the way from Iraq to Syria and Lebanon, would be a disaster for all concerned. It could easily involve both the Persian Gulf and the Eastern Mediterranean, with a level of destructiveness far beyond any Middle East war up to now. Even so-called “limited” airstrikes could spiral out of control. 

    We need to mobilize all our forces to stave off these war threats, without in any way lending support to the Iranian regime itself.  It is a hard needle to thread, but a most necessary one, as we need to support the revolutionary and democratic aspirations of the peoples of the region — Palestinians, Iranians, Syrians, Kurds, and others — at the same time that we oppose all forms of imperialism.

  • Flush With Cash: Will Buffy the Bernie Slayer Win in Pro-Sanders District?

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    In a political culture shaped by big money, entrepreneurial candidacies, single-issue campaigning, and union dis-unity, you can run but not hide from crowded fields of Democrats. In many current primary races, they are all claiming to be “progressive,” even as they raise and spend millions of dollars competing against each other—money that might have been better spent on actual movement building?

    Eric Draitser and Nick Pemberton described this phenomena well in several recent CounterPunch pieces. My own case study below comes from the left-liberal precincts of California Assembly District 15, where I’ve been a registered voter (Green or no party preference) for the last six years.

    Our East Bay constituency has one of highest levels of Democratic Party voter registration in the state. Two years ago, many residents of AD 15—Berkeley, a slice of Oakland, Richmond, and several adjoining communities—were ardent supporters of Bernie Sanders in the statewide presidential primary won by Hillary Clinton.

    Sanders strong following here may not herald a permanent "political revolution,” however. When the first stage of an election to replace our current Assembly member is completed next month, one of the top finishers could be someone who was nicknamed “Buffy the Bernie Slayer,” when she directed Clinton’s 2016 California primary campaign.

    In our state’s “jungle primary” system, legislative candidates are lumped together—regardless of party affiliation—in the first round of voting. Buffy Wicks’ first-time run for office benefits from a crowded field of twelve (which includes a single token Republican) and, most importantly, national Democratic Party donor networks. Wicks is a newcomer to AD 15. She had little local name recognition and no track record of service on any city board, council, or commission before announcing her candidacy.

    But she did direct the pro-Hillary Super-PAC, Priorities USA Action, serve in the Obama Administration, and work on both Obama presidential campaigns. Her past experience as a high-powered political operative makes her a magnet for the wrong kind of money in politics today.

    Rock Star Organizer?

    Wick’s campaign cash register started ringing last year with donations from Washington, DC pals like John Podesta and David Axelrod. Their former White House colleague David Plouffe, now on the board of Uber, sent out a fund-raising letter calling Wicks “a rock star organizer” with “the commitment, experience, and political savvy to drive a progressive agenda” in Sacramento. In the Bay Area, her contributors soon included the founders of Craigslist, LinkedIn, and the Gap.

    Wicks pre-primary haul now totals more than $600,000, about 40% of what’s been raised by everyone in direct contributions. As Wicks critic Doug Ricketson reported in a local blog, she has raised “more than twice as much as her closest rival, Berkeley School Board member Judy Appel at $221, 873 and three or four times the amounts raised by locally-based candidates,” who include city councilors from Richmond, Berkeley, El Cerrito, and Oakland. (See www.berkeleyside.com/)

    A third of Wick’s donors come from out-of-state. Among Buffy’s in-state fans is “Govern for California,” an independent expenditure committee “largely funded by hedge fund managers and venture capitalists.” East Bay DSA researchers estimate that $34,000 worth of her campaign cash has come from “neo-liberal Democrats—PACs and individuals—dedicated to closing public schools, busting public employee unions, and stealing public pensions.” And local advocates of tenant protection are alarmed that Wicks has taken $4,400 from Warren Spieker, Jr. a former Mitt Romney and Marco Rubio supporter, whose family real estate firm spent nearly $50,000 trying to defeat rent control measures in multiple Bay Area cities.

    Such financial backing doesn’t trouble top Democratic office holders backing Wicks. They include a similarly funded Gavin Newsom, who hopes to move up from Lt Governor to Governor, and our junior US Senator Kamala Harris. Their pictures (and Obama’s) adorn Wicks’ website and fill the glossy, full-color mailers now filling our mailboxes. The 40-year old candidate has re-branded herself, like a young Obama, as a “community organizer” who rose from humble origins in a working class family to the heights of national policy making, where she mobilized “progressive constituencies to help pass the Affordable Care Act.”

    In Hillary Clinton fashion, Buffy markets herself as the candidate of “Progressive Values, Real Results.” (Hillary, not surprisingly, hasn’t appeared in any Buffy material so far.) In a just released video, Wicks instead boasts of her “100 organizing meetings in living rooms across the district” and legion of volunteers. She explains how she is “trying to run [her campaign] like a real grassroots movement” because that’s the only way to bring about “sustained change in the community.” If you go out and build such a movement, she says, “that lives far beyond any election cycle and far beyond election day,” citing as examples, the 2004 presidential primary campaign of Howard Dean and Obama’s more successful effort four years later.

    Of course, with regards to two of the most important grassroots movements in California at the moment—for single payer healthcare and expanded tenant protection—Wicks is MIA or worse. She favors “moving our state towards a stable single-payer health care system”—but won’t back SB 562, a bill designed to do that. She also stands out for her unwillingness (along with Assembly Democrats) to support repeal of Costa-Hawkins, a state law limiting the scope of rent control in AD 15 cities like Richmond, Berkeley, and Oakland.

    The “Corporate Money Free” Alternative

    Like Ricketson and East Bay Democratic Socialists, I’ve put my time and/or money into the “corporate free” AD 15 campaign of Jovanka Beckles. This two-term Richmond city councilor is a black Latino Lesbian Teamster county worker, with a real track record of movement building and little inclination to become part of “business as usual” in Sacramento.

    As I reported in Refinery Town: Big Oil, Big Money, and the Remaking of An American CityBeckles and her Richmond Progressive Alliance (RPA) allies overcame heavy corporate spending against them in 2014 and 2016, because they championed refinery safety, rent control, campaign finance reform, and independent politics in Richmond.

    Four years ago, Bernie Sanders came to town to support RPA candidates and they reciprocated by backing his 2015-16 presidential bid. RPA is now affiliated with Our Revolution, the post Sanders campaign network of activist groups around the country. OR has endorsed Beckles’ race in AD 15, bringing its national president Nina Turner to Berkeley last month for a rally with several hundred supporters. In addition to OR backing, Beckles was won endorsements from the Working Families Party and her own union, plus SEIU, ATU, UPTE-CWA, and NUHW (which made a dual endorsement).

    Beckles has been embraced by environmental justice and citizen action groups like the Alliance of Californians for Community Empowerment, Communities for a Better Environment, the Asian Pacific Environmental Network, and two local Green Party chapters. Her individual fans include Danny Glover, former Berkeley Mayor Gus Newport, ex-Black Panthers like Bobby Seale and Ericka Huggins, and some of the Bay Area’s best known LGBTQ community leaders.

    But being based in one of the poorest cities in AD 15, with no personal wealth and few deep-pocketed donors nearby, has left Beckles with a campaign budget smaller than the five other “electeds” in the field, not to mention Wicks.

    Beckles’ main competition to the left of Buffy includes a self-described “education candidate” who has served ably on the Berkeley School Board and counts Van Jones and California teachers’ unions among her staunch supporters; an “environmental candidate” backed by the Sierra Club, who serves on the Oakland city council, and drafted the city’s ban on coal shipments; a labor and environmental attorney, who sits on our regional Utility District board and campaigns for workers’ rights; a city councilor in Berkeley, elected just two years ago, but already trying to move up with help from its former Congressman, Ron Dellums; and an African-American RN who recently won election to the El Cerrito city council and then was encouraged to run for Assembly by the current holder of our AD 15 seat, Tony Thurmond, who is now seeking state wide office.

    The Single-Payer Candidate?

    In her AD 15 campaigning, California Nurses Association (CNA) member Rochelle Pardue-Okimoto highlights the importance of passing SB 562 and preventing Sutter Healthcare from closing a Berkeley hospital where she works—two causes embraced by Beckles as well. As Beyond Chron editor Randy Shaw points out, not “many voters feel they have to elect a nurse to keep Alta Bates open.” In its assessment of her candidacy, East Bay Express concluded that Pardue-Okimoto should have been encouraged “to build her resume in the East Bay for a few more years” before trying to succeed Thurmond in the California Legislative Black Caucus (CLBC) in Sacramento.

    Instead, a leading pro-Sanders union in 2016, now organizational ally of Our Revolution, and past supporter of the RPA is undercutting the OR candidate in the race, a black female union member with broad left support. The CNA has spent more than $110,000 on mailers and billboards for Pardue-Okimoto through an independent expenditure committee called Nurses, Patients, and Guaranteed Healthcare Advocates. (“Rochelle’s one of us,” a CNA operative explains. “We’re in it all the way.”)

    If the white corporate Democrat in the race finishes first or second on June 5 and Beckles does not, the spoiler role of CNA’s candidate will be partially responsible. But don’t expect the CLBC to regret that outcome either. When Beckles paid a courtesy call on Black Caucus members in Sacramento last summer, she got a chilly reception. Having taken corporate money themselves, some African-American solons reacted defensively to the Richmond city councilor’s past criticism of Chevron and other big political spenders. They frowned on Beckles’ plan to run “corporate free” for the Assembly because this implied that existing members (including those in CLBC) were beholden to business interests.

    Meanwhile, CLBC member Thurmond stepped up his efforts to enlist Pardue-Okimoto as a candidate, a move rewarded by CNA support for his own campaign for state superintendent of public education. At an AD 15 candidates’ forum just a few weeks ago, Pardue-Okimoto expressed her eagerness to join the CLBC and work with its leaders (five of whom have contributed to her, via their own campaign accounts). Like the rest of the AD 15 field, except Beckles, Pardue-Okimoto was signaling that being a “team player”—in a corporate Democrat-dominated legislature—was a top priority for her, rather than rocking the boat of big money in politics, there or anywhere else.

    Draining the political swamp in Sacramento is no easy task, under any circumstances. The costly left-liberal free-for-all in the East Bay may end up adding to that challenge, instead of helping networks like Our Revolution overcome it. But the AD 15 race does demonstrate what too much candidate-driven campaigning and independent spending—combined with not enough real organization building—can produce, even in Sanders country, when municipal reformers all try to move up at the same time.  

    Steve Early is a member of the Richmond Progressive Alliance, a supporter of Jovanka Beckles' campaign for California State Assembly, and the author, most recently, of Refinery Town: Big Oil, Big Money, and the Remaking of an American City from Beacon Press. He can be reached at Lsupport@aol.com.

  • No to Trump’s, Netanyahu’s, Bin Salman’s Imperialist War Drive Against Iran!

     

    ImageFor Iran, the U.S. withdrawal from the 2015 Nuclear Agreement will mean crushing sanctions and direct or continued indirect war declared by Israel and Saudi Arabia with U.S. support. For the Middle East, it will mean further destruction and regional imperialist competition. For the world, it will mean further division between the U.S. and the European Union and further global imperialist competition.

    Donald Trump’s announcement on May 8 that the U.S. is withdrawing from the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action or Nuclear Agreement with Iran was not a surprise. However, the full range of its ominous ramifications not only for Iran, but also the Middle East region and the world remain to be seen.

    For Iran it will mean crushing sanctions and direct or continued indirect war declared by Israel and Saudi Arabia with U.S. support. For the Middle East, it will mean further destruction and regional  imperialist competition. For the world, it will mean further division between the U.S. and the European Union  and further global imperialist competition.

    Trump and Netanyahu have claimed that the Iranian government had violated the terms of the 2015 nuclear agreement by holding on to secret plans for developing nuclear weapons, by promoting a ballistic missile program and by its military intervention in Syria, Yemen, Lebanon and Iraq.  While the nuclear agreement did not include the latter two points, it had successfully imposed a limit on Iran’s nuclear capabilities and a verification program to which Iran had abided according to the International Atomic Energy Agency, the United Nations and the other signatories of the nuclear deal (Germany, Britain, France, Russia, China).

    The U.S. withdrawal from the nuclear deal and the imposition of further sanctions on Iran will punish not only Iran but all banks that do business with Iran’s Central Bank and all companies that do business with Iran. These companies will have 90-180 days to wind down their operations in Iran or they will run afoul of the U.S. banking system. The sanctions on oil will require European and Asian countries to reduce their imports from Iran.

    For now Britain, Germany and France have declared that their countries and the European Union as a whole will stay committed to the nuclear deal but will also try to work out a broader agreement with Iran on the issue of its ballistic missile development and military interventions in the region. Iran’s government has also announced that it will stay committed to the nuclear deal if Europe, China and Russia abide by it.

    Israel and Saudi Arabia have enthusiastically supported Trump’s decision. Within an hour of Trump’s announcement, Israel launched another missile attack on a Syrian base used by Iran. Iran responded by firing missiles at Israeli military outposts in the Golan Heights. Israel then  notified Russia before responding with air attacks on 50 Iranian military and security installations in Syria. A direct war between Israel and Iran has already started.

    U.S. withdrawal from Iran Nuclear Agreement in context of Israel and Saudi Arabia’s Power Struggle with Iran

    Iran is still the second largest Middle Eastern economy after Turkey and a government with a degree of regional imperialist involvement that rivals Saudi Arabia (the third largest economy in the Middle East). While the Islamic Republic’s opposition to Western imperialism and Israel had given it much appeal among both Shi’a and Sunni Muslims for much of its existence,  Iran’s military intervention in Syria in support of Bashar al-Assad’s murderous regime has taken away much of that appeal. This intervention and other interventions in Lebanon and Iraq have also bankrupted Iran economically.

    Iran’s recent alliance with Turkey in competition with Saudi Arabia and Saudi Arabia’s new ally, Israel, once again shows that the power struggle within the region transcends the Shia-Sunni divide and  now even the Muslim-Jewish divide. It involves a struggle for control over capital and strategic geopolitical influence in the region and is not limited to exporting Shi’a Islamic fundamentalist ideology.

    The current economic bankruptcy of Iran and the growing Iranian popular opposition against the Islamic Republic, however, have created a situation which Saudi Arabia and Israel find opportune for getting rid of the Iranian regime.

    It is in this context that the Trump administration has announced the U.S. withdrawal from the 2015 nuclear agreement negotiated by the Obama administration.

    U.S. Further Dividing Itself from European Union and Indirectly Aiding China & Russia

    The current position of the U.S. however, not only puts it at odds with its former European allies, but can actually strengthen its global imperialist rivals, Russia and China.

    In the words of Susan Rice, the national security adviser during President Barack Obama’s second term: “The costs to American global leadership are steep. When the United States unilaterally abrogates an international agreement in the absence of any breach, we undermine international perceptions of our reliability and responsibility. That is precisely what we have already done with the Paris climate agreement and the Trans-Pacific Partnership. But violating the Iran deal is far more dangerous.” (New York Times, May 9, 2018)

    China which is one of Iran’s main trade partners and its largest provider of  imported goods would continue to purchase Iranian oil and pay with goods and construction projects.  Russia which sells arms to Iran and is involved in oil and gas facility and nuclear power plant construction in Iran, has already announced that the U.S. withdrawal from the nuclear deal will actually help Russia. In the words of Vladimir Yermakov, a high-ranking representative of the Russian ministry of foreign affairs, “The U.S. withdrawal will help us economically because there will no longer be limitations on economic cooperation with Iran. We will continue our bilateral relations in all fields, including energy, transportation, high technology…” (وزارت خارجه روسیه:  با خروج آمریکا از برجام روابطمان را با ایران گسترش می دهیم. زمانه 14 اردیبهشت 1394 )

    Need for Solidarity with the progressive and revolutionary opposition inside Iran

    Those who will suffer the most will be the Iranian popular masses. Not only will they face even more back-breaking sanctions. Iranians now face the strong possibility of a direct war on Iranian soil launched by Israel, Saudi Arabia and the U.S.

    Just at a time when a wave of labor protests and strikes has spread throughout the country following the December and January mass protests which called for the overthrow of the Islamic Republic and an end to its intervention in Syria and Lebanon, the sanctions and a possible direct war will have deadly effects. They will allow the regime to label any genuine progressive or revolutionary opposition as an expression of support for the U.S., Israel and Saudi Arabia. It will also strengthen nationalist sentiments to rally forces behind the regime. Young people who are now protesting on the streets will be conscripted as soldiers.

    Even if the regime is not able to rally enough forces behind itself to legitimize itself, war and imperialist intervention will make it extremely difficult for progressive and revolutionary forces.

    In the midst of the war sirens, it is the plea of a woman labor leader, Parvin Mohammadi, that progressives and socialists around the world need to publicize: “The Iranian government has a large budget and immense assets … The most important part consists of large funds given to military and religious institutions inside the country and war expenditures in Syria, Lebanon, for Hamas, Yemen etc. This is not to mention billions stolen and embezzled. . . A government that responds to hungry workers with anti-riot guards, repression, imprisonment and expulsion, has only one message.  Its message is that it has no solution for resolving the problems and economic dead end and wretchedness that workers face. . . The task we face is  addressing the lost lives of millions of working-class households and offering them welfare, healthcare, housing, education, in one word, a life worthy of a human being in the 21st century.”  (http://ettehad-e.com)

    Those who are opposed to U.S. imperialism and all global and regional imperialist forces need to express their support for progressive and revolutionary forces that are speaking out within Iran’s labor, feminist, student and intellectual opposition movement.

    See also:

    Iran: Ongoing Labor Strikes, Women’s Protests and Ideas for International Solidarity

    https://www.allianceofmesocialists.org/iran-ongoing-labor-strikes-womens-protests-and-ideas-for-international-solidarity/

    Statement from a group of international socialist feminists in solidarity with Iranian women

    https://www.allianceofmesocialists.org/statement-group-international-socialist-feminists-solidarity-iranian-women/

    International Campaign in Solidarity with Middle Eastern Political Prisoners

    https://www.allianceofmesocialists.org/14964/

    Originally posted at the Alliance of Middle Eastern Socialists website.

  • New York Taxi Drivers: Pushed To Suicide

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    Over the past four months, four New York City taxi drivers have been pushed to suicide in an industry that is becoming increasingly dangerous. In response to the recent deaths, the New York Taxi Workers Alliance has launched a campaign for regulation and released its own proposal to re-establish driving as a viable occupation.

    On April 25, the Taxi Workers Alliance demanded that city leaders address the lethal impact of lax regulation of app-based, ride-hailing services at a press conference in front of City Hall. The conference preceded a hearing on April 30 concerning regulations for app-based companies.

    The business model offered by Uber and Lyft, they argued, has been instrumental in lowering labor standards so that drivers from across the taxi industry — whether they are behind the wheels of yellow cabs, green cabs or black cars — are literally working themselves to death. Ride-hailing companies have gained notoriety for being able to put an unlimited number of vehicles on the road, underpaying drivers and even going so far as to not recognize them as employees. This has created a “race to the bottom” with severe repercussions.

    Before shooting himself at the gates of City Hall Park, Douglas Schifter called the industry in which he’d been working for decades “the new slavery.” Schifter wrote this in a suicide letter he posted on Facebook and blamed the Taxi and Limousine Commission, the Mayor’s Office and Gov. Andrew Cuomo for promoting deregulation without regard for the impact on workers.

    Joined by fellow founders Biju Matthews, Beresford Simmons and Taxi Workers Alliance organizer Mohammed Tipu Sultan, the NYTWA’s executive director Bhairavi Desai addressed the assembled drivers and members of the press. “No matter what Uber wants to claim,” she said, “this is a struggle about the workers trying to defend a full-time job in a gig economy that offers nothing but poverty pay.” Founded in 1998, the alliance currently represents over 50,000 drivers throughout the city and has affiliates across the country. It has played a pivotal role in defending workers’ rights and livelihoods from the impacts of deregulation.

    According to Matthews, the situation created by Uber and its peers has taken a broad psychological toll on drivers. It is a situation that became even more dire due to Uber clogging city streets and shrinking worker income by constantly adding new vehicles. He hopes this is the last spate of suicides, noting that the alliance regularly refers drivers to suicide prevention services.

    Danilo Castillo Corporan leapt from the window of his Manhattan apartment in December of 2017 after being told by the Taxi and Limousine Commission that he could lose his license for picking up an illegal hail. Charges against him were dropped the day after his death. Castillo penned his suicide note on the back of his summons, citing the “disastrous state” of the industry. Corporan had been a Bronx-based driver, as was Alfredo Perez who also committed suicide earlier this year.

    On March 16, yellow cab driver and medallion owner Nichanor Ochisor hung himself in the garage of his Maspeth home. He, like so many other drivers, found himself starved of fares after Uber led the charge in flooding the streets with vehicles. Ochisor and his wife both worked but found their combined income to be half of what he had been making individually before app-based cars flooded the streets with the blessing of both Gov. Cuomo and the mayor’s office. Last year there were a total of 83,000 app-linked cars, which outnumbered the city’s remaining yellow and green cabs. Increasingly burdened by mortgage payments and mounting debts on his medallion, Ochisor saw no way out.

    In response to these tragic suicides, the Taxi Workers Alliance has gathered drivers from all sectors and their allies for repeated demonstrations in front of City Hall. They demand action to address the wide reaching harm caused by ride-hailing companies’ dominant position in the gig economy and their antipathy to regulation. These are not limited to promoting hazardous labor conditions or normalizing inconsistent and low pay. Companies like Uber and Lyft have also ensnared drivers in a web of predatory financial relationships and have been accused of discriminating against disabled passengers. City council member Ruben Diaz Sr. and members of Disabled In Action Metro NY, a group fighting for civil rights of disabled people, are among those who have joined the taxi drivers in this fight.

    Working incessantly while earning very little is a norm across the industry. According to one study, 41 to 54 percent of Uber drivers make less than minimum wage. According to Taxi Workers Alliance member Bigu Haider, it’s common to work 70-80 hours a week and have nothing left over after paying rent and other living expenses. “If you want to save, you have to add 100 hours,” he said. Before taking his life, Douglas Schifter wrote he had regularly been working 100-120 hours per week.

    The activists of Disabled In Action, who have been allies of the Taxi Workers Alliance since 1998, point out that the impact of ride-hailing companies’ allergy to regulation extends beyond worker abuse. Uber, Lyft and Via took the Taxi and Limousine Commission to court over whether or not they have an obligation to provide vehicles that disabled passengers can access. Starting this July, commission rules will mandate that 5 percent of outgoing trips from taxi bases be wheelchair accessible. This is part of a broader effort to ensure that half of all New York City taxis are able to accommodate passengers with disabilities. Uber, Lyft and Via filed a petition with Manhattan’s Supreme Court in early April to have the same Taxi and Limousine mandate “vacated and annulled.” “They should just bite the bullet and stop fighting the system,” Disabled in Action’s president Edith Prentis said. “You don’t want to follow the rules in New York? Then get out.”

    In response to these companies’ intransigence when it comes to being regulated, Ruben Diaz Sr. is backing a measure that would require the city to vet new app-based services. Only those that fulfill an “actual need” would be allowed to operate. Additionally, this legislation would require drivers to work with only one company. Battling against diminishing incomes, many drivers currently shift from driving the city’s cars to working under one or more ride-hailing companies on a regular basis.

    The Taxi Worker’s Alliance has put forward its own position, though. Their plan offers a model for fair labor standards that would also check the power ride-hailing companies have gained in New York. A cap on the number of ride-hailing vehicles, a wage floor based on the yellow and green taxi meters, an increase in fares, industry caps on drivers’ expenses and an end to predatory leasing practices are among the key points of the plan.

    “We are asking for an immediate moratorium on new cars,” Biju Matthews explained. “Then, through attrition we have to bring the numbers down.” The cap itself, however, will not provide a solution to drivers’ woes concerning pay and saving. That is why Matthews says the wage floor is crucial. The plan also demands the city’s congestion pricing scheme, which would fund maintenance of the MTA, not burden drivers and that the city implement the health and wellness fund, which is the product of Taxi Workers Alliance victories in 2012 and 2013.

    Biju Matthews is optimistic about the prospect of pushing regulations through despite Gov. Cuomo’s longstanding support of Uber and its model. “I think there’s enough support in city council that we’ll be able to see this through … there at least eight or 10 city council members that openly come out to say they openly support the alliance.”

    Originally posted at Waging Nonviolence.

  • Brazil: the snare of short-cuts

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    Brazilian socialist Andressa Alegre spoke to Solidarity about the experience with the governments led by the Brazilian Workers’ Party (PT) between 2003 and 2016.

    The PT, was founded during the military dictatorship, in the conflict against the dictatorship of 1964-85.

    It came out of the union movement, mostly in Sao Paolo, and the steelworkers’ union. Lula, the first PT Federal President, came from the steelworkers’ union.

    It was a very radical party. In 1988 it said that the way to end Brazil’s external debt was to nationalise the banks and Brazil’s mineral wealth.

    It promised to do a big land reform.

    Between the time the party started in the 1980s and when it first formed a government in 2003, it lost a lot of its basic politics. The ideology of the party became more and more washed-out, and when it was elected, it was on the basis of a slogan like “Hope will defeat fear”.

    Even then in 2003 people expected land reform: the movement of landless workers was a really big thing in Brazil. They expected an end to corruption, which was very much a legacy of the military dictatorship, and taxation of the rich to build a welfare state.

    During the PT government about 20 million people came out of extreme poverty. Many workers previously “informal” gained formal employment status.

    Lula expanded massively the Bolsa Familia, a benefits system which gives a certain amount of money to families depending on how much money they have, the only condition being that their children attend school. That was very popular.

    Lula was more popular at the end of his administration, in 2011, than when he got in, which almost never happens.

    Resentments built up on the right. You hear people saying, “you can’t find the help any more” (about domestic servants).

    Because of the kind of government that we have, even though the PT had the biggest number of seats in the chamber of deputies, Lula had to make various forms of coalitions with different parties, including the PMDB, which was a kind of official opposition party under the dictatorship.

    The government was able to do all this because of favourable economic conditions and making favourable deals with big landowners.

    It had money to spend on benefit systems; but also made deals with big landowners. The landless workers’ movement MST still protects the PT, but says that the PT government was not good for land reforms.

    Inside the PT, the internal life is not great. An internal web-forum was set up to discuss the PT’s policy, and then there were fewer meetings. Activists are no longer responsible for political campaigning, which has been outsourced to private companies. The PT now only exists in industrial life, or industrial politics in the union movement. It is much less active on the streets.

    There was still opposition from some groups like the PSOL, which was a split, and the PSTU. Other parts of the left like the Communist Party had electoral coalitions with the PT and weren’t doing much at the grassroots.

    I don’t know if the PT label themselves as “anti-Stalinists” but they see themselves as a more liberal-socialist alternative to the Communist Party.

    The economic crisis from 2014, made it harder for the government to conciliate the ruling class with reforms. Yet the left is really disorganised.

    In 2013 we had really big demonstrations in Brazil, which were politically brainless. They called for better education and better healthcare, but they lacked the organisation to make a programme, or to criticise the government, or hold them to account instead of trying to throw out. Those two things together made Dilma Rousseff’s popularity fall massively.

    The crisis made it much more difficult for the government to conciliate the needs of the ruling class and the working class.

    The massive unrest was not channelled by the left. The left was not organised to do that.

    The demonstrations became more and more right wing and were led, especially in big cities, by the MBL movement, which is like the “Free Brazil” movement, a “neither-right-nor-left”, “new-politics” type of alliance. The decline of the PT also left a vacuum in communities which was often filled by communalism and/or by Evangelical Christians, who have grown a lot and become a really big political power.

    The current leading candidate for the next Presidential election is a right-wing evangelical Christian.

    The lessons for UK Labour should be: don’t sell out your principles in order to get into government. It is better to take the “long route” of persuading people of ideas instead of abandoning them in order to get into government.

    Secondly, to maintain the internal life and democracy of the party. Do that to maintain your principles and shape policy, and also to hold leaders to account once they are in government.

    Once those leaders are in government and all the other forces, mostly bourgeois forces, are pushing them to the right, we need a big movement that we can rely on.

    Originally published at the Alliance for Workers’ Liberty website.

  • Trump’s Road to War — Why?

    Donald Trump’s withdrawal of the United States from the Iran nuclear agreement has set a path toward another Middle East war. It is not necessarily a war that will erupt right away or in the short term, and it may be averted if the United States is politically isolated and there’s a mass revival of an international antiwar movement. That’s what every sane person, and certainly every socialist and peace activist, should hope and work for.

    Nonetheless, the course now is set toward intensified regional tensions, potential nuclear proliferation, growing conflicts between Israel and Iranian forces in Syria, and ultimately a U.S. military confrontation with Iran with incalculable consequences for the world. Beyond condemning this reckless adventurism, the question to ask is: Why?

    This is not a war that the U.S. population wants — the big twit campaigned, after all, on the pretense that he opposed the disastrous invasion of Iraq. It is not a war that most of the U.S. capitalist class seems to want, and certainly not what the United States’ imperialist allies in Europe want.

    In immediate terms, Trump’s blowing up the deal is a gift to Vladimir Putin as the price of oil increases. It also benefits Iran’s hard-right enemies of president Rouhani — reactionaries, fundamentalists and Revolutionary Guards officials who control much of Iran’s sclerotic economy, and happily profit from the lucrative activities of sanctions-busting. Iran’s people pay the price in a falling currency, consumer shortages and higher prices, increasingly dangerous aircraft deprived of spare parts, and other hardships along with harsh political repression.

    Trump’s action sets up a tussle with the European Union and its member states, over whether U.S. financial muscle can coerce European companies to withdraw from economic deals with Iran — on top of the conflict over his protectionist tariffs and pending European counter-measures. If this U.S. coercion succeeds, as is possible given the huge extent of U.S. power over international banking and the EU’s weaknesses, Iran’s return to uranium enrichment becomes all the more likely.

    What then lies behind Trump’s effort to unilaterally cancel the JCPOA (Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action, the formal title of the agreement with Iran negotiated in 2015 by the United States, Britain, France, Russia, China and Germany)? Partly, no doubt, it’s to satisfy the twit’s egotistical drive to cancel anything that Barack Obama worked to achieve — health care, financial regulation, consumer protection, action on climate change, protection for immigrant youth, and everything else. And it appeals to part of his political base at a time when he’s swamped in corruption, sex and collusion scandals.

    But Trump’s destructive personal agenda is not a sufficient explanation. Secondly, he has the enthusiastic approval of the Israeli and Saudi Arabian regimes. Benjamin Netanyahu has been agitating for years for a U.S. attack on Iran, which Israel can’t do on its own. And the Saudi kingdom’s agenda is driven by hostility to Iran’s growing regional power — an agenda that includes the Saudi-U.S. war in Yemen that is destroying the population of that country by starvation, epidemic and indiscriminate bombing. And it undoubtedly encourages Israel’s wanton shooting of Palestinian civilians at the Gaza border fence, and the escalating Israeli bombing of Syria.

    Third and probably most important, the Trump regime is now stuffed with the neoconservative militarists who still think that the Iraq invasion was a good idea, and want to double down on it — arguing that extreme sanctions will weaken the Iranian economy to the point of collapse and set the stage for “regime change.” It’s an ideological mission. For these types, gambling with the lives of literally hundreds of millions of people is playing with house money. The fact that the U.S. capitalist class lets them do so testifies to its cynicism, the absence of a serious Democratic Party opposition to military adventurism, and the general dysfunction of bourgeois politics in this country.

    What about the argument that the JCPOA was “flawed” to begin with? What about Iran’s role in Syria and “promoting terrorism”? What about those “sunset clauses” that Trump complains about in the agreement? We have to go back to what the agreement was, what it wasn’t, and what it couldn’t be.

    To begin with a basic truth: In the long run, nuclear weapons will be globally eliminated — as over 120 member states of the United Nations have demanded — or they will proliferate, whether in the Middle East or the Korean peninsula or anywhere else. Iran’s initial nuclear development began in the 1970s under the Shah, with U.S. approval.

    The Iranian rulers halted that program following the 1979 revolution, but resumed it in the 1980s — directed not against the United States or Israel, but against Saddam Hussein’s Iraq, which invaded Iran in 1981 to begin a hideous eight-year war where both sides worked to develop chemical, biological and nuclear “weapons of mass destruction.” The Reagan administration encouraged Iraq to launch that war and worked to prolong it (while also secretly selling weapons to Iran to finance the U.S. illegal contra war against Nicaragua’s revolution.)

    Following the U.S. invasion of Iraq in 2003, which toppled Saddam’s rule and made Iran the strongest state in the area, the Iranian regime offered a comprehensive regional agreement with the United States. Washington dismissed the idea — as its grand plan was to move on from its great Iraq victory to overthrowing the Islamic Republic. We know how that turned out.

    Against that backdrop and Iran’s subsequent advances in uranium enrichment, the 2015 JCPOA had one objective — to block one flashpoint of proliferation, Iran’s potential path to nuclear weapons capability and by extension the nuclearization of its regional rivals. In exchange, crippling economic sanctions on Iran were lifted. The United States never fully even honored that commitment, and now Trump claims that unilateral “maximum economic sanctions” will squeeze more concessions from Iran, including a permanent cessation of nuclear enrichment. Whether or not the big bully actually believes that, the logic of that position leads toward forced “regime change,” or war — or both.

    The nuclear deal did not change the hideous character of the Iranian regime, or any other — not Saudi Arabia, not Egypt, not the Gulf kingdoms. Nor did it curb the malicious mischief perpetrated in Syria by Iran or any other state — not Saudi Arabia, not Russia or Turkey, not Israel and certainly not the United States. Any fiction that the deal would change the nature of any regime, or prevent any states and ruling elites from acting in their own state interests (real or perceived), was delusional.

    Even more delusional and dangerous is the idea that U.S. withdrawal from this agreement will bring stability or progress to the Middle East, fresh negotiations for “a better deal,” or any progressive reform or regime change in Iran. Regime change in Iran can only be accomplished by its own people, not from outside — any more than political change in the United States could come about through bombing or invasion from the outside. As for ending the threat of war and ultimately the nuclear destruction of human civilization, that requires a global “true revolution of values” — Martin Luther King’s memorable prophetic phrase — and an international movement to end imperialism for good.

    Originally posted at the Solidarity website

  • New Eugene Debs Film Does the Socialist Proud

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    A charismatic and militant labor leader, five-time Socialist Party presidential candidate, class-war prisoner jailed by the ostensibly liberal Woodrow Wilson administration for opposing U.S entry into World War I and a fiery, moral force in a corrupted era — Eugene Victor Debs was among the greatest orators this nation ever produced, yet no recording of his voice survives. And what a speaker he was! John Swinton, the late 19th century New York labor writer who as a young man heard Lincoln speak, likened Debs to Lincoln not just in intellect but in character. And unlike Lincoln, Debs could speak cogently to crowds for hours without notes.

    Even foreign-language speakers were won over, with many testifying that Debs’ mannerisms alone were magnetic, his fist smacking his palm as he offered such injunctions as “Progress is born out of agitation. It is agitation or stagnation.”  

    To know Debs and his impact on American working-class politics as it emerged to confront the mammon of industrial and finance capital, we are ably served by his voluminous writings and by a series of fine, highly readable biographies by such writers as Ray Ginger, Nick Salvatore and Ernest Freeberg, the latter author focusing on Debs’ later years as “democracy’s prisoner.” Add to those a plethora of histories of the old Socialist Party. Ira Kipnis’s The American Socialist Movement: 1897-1912 is likely the best, though it ends prematurely with a massive vote for Debs in the presidential race and party membership peaking at 118,000 — all before the government’s full-bore assault on the left and Debs’ jailing.

    Fortunately two strong movies are also available that help underscore  Debs’ impact, including a 1979 documentary by Bernie Sanders and a new feature: American Socialist: The Life and Times of Eugene Victor Debs, by filmmaker Yale Strom, currently artist-in-residence and professor in the Jewish Studies Program at San Diego State University, and narrated by actor Amy Madigan. Debs’ legacy is especially well served by the new production, which takes advantage not only of scholarly accounts of Debs’ life and American socialist movement he rose out of but judiciously utilized the extensive Debs archives at Michigan State University-Lansing, the Debs Foundation collection in Terra Haute, Indiana and others.  

    So Who was Debs?

    Born in 1855 and named by his immigrant parents after the French novelists Eugene Sue and Victor Hugo, Debs was slow to embrace radical politics in his hometown of Terra Haute, where the capitalists were still of the small, local variety and social mobility was not impossible for working people. The metastasizing of monopoly capital in the area through the intrusion and consolidation of finance and industry would come soon enough. The future socialist even married a rich man’s daughter and was a Democratic state office holder, if briefly.

    The film makes clear that Debs, a strong railroad worker-unionist, didn’t start out as a socialist; that transposition came after the Democratic administration of Grover Cleveland broke the American Railway Union strike under the mendacious claim that strikers were sabotaging mail delivery. Debs, it’s president, went into prison a militant trade unionist and, courtesy of the federal evisceration of his union and a prison reading of Marx’s Capital, came out six months later a committed revolutionary, though of a discernible American type. He would, for example, define socialism as “Christianity in action.” For Debs’ religiously inclined listeners, greed and the pursuit of personal wealth were presented as sin, the riches of capitalists balefully gained.  

    That appeal to traditional religion as a bulwark of cooperation — the essence of socialism — sparked interest in Debs’ “Red Special” whistle-stop electoral campaign in areas such as Oklahoma, where, the film argues, small-farmer militancy combined with ingrained Evangelical Christianity. The strategy was less successful in the South, where we can intuit that racial division was a prime factor mitigating unified class action.

    But whether addressing farmers, workers or urban intellectuals at such venues as New York’s Cooper Union, Debs was in his element.   

    It was the Socialist Party’s opposition to World War I that led to its undoing and to a five-year prison sentence for Debs. His crime: violating a Sedition Act provision against urging young men to dodge the draft.

    On July 16, 1918, a year after the act’s passage, Debs was in Canton, Ohio to address the Ohio Socialist Party’s state convention and visit comrades jailed for speaking out against the war. He knew he was at risk of arrest himself. “I must be exceedingly careful,” he told the convention delegates, “prudent as to what I say. I may not be able to say all I think, but I am not going to say anything that I do not think. I would rather a thousand times be a free soul in prison than to be a sycophant and coward in the streets. They may put those boys in jail — and some of the rest of us in jail — but they cannot put the Socialist movement in jail.”

    True to form, government stenographers in the crowd noted his comments selectively. Prison followed, based on the alleged danger that his remarks, those of a known “agitator,” posed to troop recruitment — this just months before the Treaty of Versailles was signed.

    A red scare followed the war. Foreign radicals were rounded up and deported. Native-born leftists of any stripe were imprisoned.

    Running for president on the Socialist ticket in 1920 while incarcerated, Debs garnered just under 1 million votes. Even as late as 1921, on the eve of his leaving office, Wilson still refused to pardon Debs. It was the GOP’s Harding who granted Debs and 23 others a Christmas commutation.

    The Irony of a Humble Man Lionized

    It seems odd that a movement valorizing collective action and the social context of everyday life over invidious egotism and careerist grasping would also need to anoint leaders and elevate heroes. As Debs himself put it 1906 to an audience of workers in Detroit: “I would not be a Moses to lead you into the Promised Land, because if I could lead you into it, someone else could lead you out of it. You must use your heads as well as your hands, and get yourself out of your present condition.”

    Even allowing for the early glint of its religious trappings, his was an American variant of Marx’s insistence on working-class self-activity, that the emancipation of working people was not the provenance of elites no matter how well-intentioned but a task largely of the workers alone. Debs’ often quoted statement to his trial judge at his conviction for violating the Sedition Act makes much the same point.

    “Years ago, I recognized my kinship with all living beings, and I made up my mind that I was not one bit better than the meanest on earth. I said then, and I say now, that while there is a lower class I am in it; while there is a criminal class I am of it; while there is a soul in prison I am not free.”

    Debs’ heroes were not great men and women but ordinary people who showed uncommon bravery and solidarity with one another.

    A story Debs told, though not included in the film, concerns a black-balled former railroad worker in desperate straits who proudly tells Debs that he never scabbed, knowing the principled stance meant exorcism from a decent-paying job. “If I’d have been like some of them, I’d had a passenger train years ago and been saved lots of grief,” he tells Debs. “But I’d rather be a broken-down old umbrella fixer without a friend than to be a scab and worth a million…. And when I cross the big divide, I can walk up to the bar of judgment and look God in the face without a flicker.”

    Debs’ cited the man as the epitome of working-class solidarity.

    “There was something peculiarly grand about the scarred old veteran of the industrial battlefield,” Debs wrote in 1913. “His shabbiness was all on the outside, and he seemed transfigured to me and clad in garments of glory. He loomed before me like a forest monarch the tempests had riven and denuded of its foliage but could not lay low. He had kept the faith and had never scabbed.”   

    Neither did Debs. See the film.

    American Socialist: The Life and Times of Eugene Victor Debs is scheduled to be shown in Hudson, NY (April 26-May 13); Los Angeles and Pasadena, (May 4-10); San Diego (May 11-16), Washington, D.C., (May 22), and the Cleveland Museum of Art (June 12-15.)  

    Originally posted at The Indypendent.

  • The Merry Month of May

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    Where Are the Riots of Yesteryear?

    This month marks the 50th anniversary of the wave of radical revolts and revolutionary uprisings that startled the world in 1968 and which,  although ultimately crushed by the forces of reaction that dominate the world to this day, left in its wake rights so fundamental that we tend to take them for granted — sexual freedom, civil rights, women’s’ equality. Yet a half-century later these hard-won rights are under attack and people are once again rising to defend them.

    Today in France, where in 1968 the student-worker rebellion led to a weeks-long of general strike, the students have once again occupied the universities, while the railroad workers, airline, and public service workers are striking against the counter-reforms being imposed by the autocratic, neoliberal President Macron. Following the example of May ’68, these diverse groups are hoping to unite and force the government to cease their attacks on public services and working peoples’ standard of living.  

    In the United States as well, a wave of spontaneous strikes by underpaid, overworked, idealistic "Red State" teachers backed by public opinion is making sweeping gains, and movements like #MeToo, #BlackLivesMatter and other post-Occupy Wall Street anti-capitalist struggles are on the rise. Is there hope for real change?

    For more read https://indypendent.org/2018/05/the-merry-month-of-may-a-firsthand-history-of-68-france/.

  • Why class still matters: a reply to Paul Mason

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    This article is a response to Paul Mason’s recent essay ‘Labour must become the party of people who want to change the world, not just Britain’, in which he argues that there can no longer be any privileged position for organised labour as an agent of socialist change. This reply will respond to that question specifically, leaving aside some other aspects of Mason’s essay, and argue that the working class remains the key strategic actor for overhauling capitalism.

    The post-class left

    Paul Mason’s 2007 book ‘Live Working Or Die Fighting: How The Working Class Went Global’ described how advanced capitalism had globalised capitalist class relations. The process has been recent, and spectacular. An internationalised proletariat has only recently become the world’s biggest single class; there are more wage workers in South Korea now than there were in the entire world when Marx and Engels wrote the ‘Communist Manifesto’. Vast new working classes have been created in Brazil, India, Mexico, Nigeria, Bangladesh, and elsewhere. Objectively, the material potential for socialism as a politics of working-class self-emancipation, based on workers organised as workers at the site of production, exists on an unprecedented scale.

    But the Paul Mason of 2018 faces in a quite different direction to the Paul Mason of 2007. He is now one of the figureheads of what might be termed a new “post-class left”, writers, commentators, and activists who no longer believe in any privileged role for the working class as an agent of socialist change.

    Mason argues that: “Networked technology, combined with high levels of education and personal freedom have created a new historical subject across most countries and cultures which will supplant the industrial working class in the progressive project.” What has caused Mason to give up on the idea of the centrality of class? The proletariat, it seems, has let him down. “It persistently refused to play the role of capitalism’s gravedigger”, he complains.

    Some facts appear to lend weight to Mason’s argument. While new and powerful labour movements have emerged around the world, on the whole labour is weak and on the defensive. It is certainly the case that the past generation has been characterised by defeat and decline for organised labour in Britain. The trade union movement is now half the size it was at its 1979 peak, with vastly fewer elected workplace reps and shop stewards. In 2016, strike levels were at their lowest since records began. In 2017, after a period of stagnation, trade union membership fell. Recent high-profile national disputes – my own union’s fight against the imposition of “Driver Only Operation” on the mainline railway, or university workers’ strikes against pension cuts – are very much exceptions rather than a rule.

    Do those sobering and disappointing statistics speak to an objective change? Is the organised working class disappearing from the historical stage as a distinct actor? What the statistics in fact reflect is working-class defeat, not changes in the structural position of labour under capitalism. That defeat is not eternal, or insurmountable. Mason and the rest of the post-class left have extrapolated erroneous claims of objective changes from those subjective realities of those defeats. Rather than attempting to challenge and overcome them, they have assimilated them into their worldview. Mason describes what the French labour movement called “la vie ouvrière”, what has elsewhere been called the “union way of life”, as having been “vapourised”. A more accurate metaphor might be to say that it has been smashed. Not much more comforting, perhaps, but containing an implicit potential for rebuilding that Mason rejects.

    The post-class left is not a new phenomenon. It is a political tradition with a long history, that reasserts itself in periods of retreat for organised labour. In 2017, Paul Mason won the inaugural Ellen Meiksins Wood Prize. Three decades previously, the Marxist theorist after whom the prize was named wrote ‘The Retreat From Class‘, a superb polemic against those careering away from the idea of working-class agency in the direction of, amongst other things, liberal “social movement” politics. The new agents to whom Wood’s targets looked greatly resemble Mason’s “networked individuals”, including in the respect of being largely non-existent as a cohesive social element with any structural power within capitalist society.

    Wood described the post-class socialists’ perspective like this:

    “The formation of a socialist movement is in principle independent of class, and a socialist politics can be constructed that is more or less autonomous from economic (class) conditions. This means two things in particular […] A political force can be constituted and organised on the ideological and political planes, constructed out of various ‘popular’ elements which can be bound together and motivated by purely ideological and political means, irrespective of the class connections or oppositions among them. […] The appropriate objectives of socialism are universal human goals which transcend class, rather than narrow material goals defined in terms of class interests. These objectives can be addressed, on the autonomous ideological and political planes, to various kinds of people, irrespective of their material class situations.”

    Wood was prescient. She could have been describing Paul Mason in 2018 directly. His incantational listing of movements such as the Arab Spring, Occupy, Scotland and Catalonia’s independence movements, demonstrations against Orban in Hungary and more besides are precisely an attempt to conjure a new agent “out of various ‘popular’ elements which can be bound together and motivated by purely ideological and political means, irrespective of the class connections or oppositions among them.”

    It might be noted that the only one of those movements to come anywhere near to achieving any of its goals, the initial Egyptian revolution at the heart of the Arab Spring, did so precisely because of the unique role played by organised labour in huge industrial combines like the Mahalla Textile Company.

    What is it that Mason claims gives his “new subject” its revolutionary potential? Neither the mere condition of being “connected” (connected to what? By what means?), nor that of being “educated” (by whom? On the basis of what ideology?) imbue structural power vis-à-vis capital. As Christian Fuchs put it in his critique of Mason’s 2015 book ‘Postcapitalism: A Guide to Our Future’:

    “Almost all managers, CEOs, and other members of the class of the 1% are ‘educated and connected’. They are the globalised, networked, educated, influential – and wealthy. Are the educated, connected and networked hedge fund manager and the educated, connected and networked entrepreneur, who parks and hides his wealth in tax havens, part of this subject? Definitely not! Education, networking and connectedness are not automatically politically progressive.”

    Mason argues that our consumption power may give us leverage:

    “We are ‘pro-sumers’ in many different ways: our fashion choices create the value of global brands. In addition, huge new corporations have adopted business models based on harvesting the positive network effects of our online behaviour.”

    But what common, socially-cohesive, interests, do “pro-sumers” having their data harvested by tech corporations actually have, beyond perhaps a desire for more digital privacy? What structural power can people organised on this basis actually wield? Indeed, how can they even be organised, except perhaps as passive electoral supporters of a party that promises to represent their “values”? Maybe that is indeed Mason’s ultimate aspiration: there is more than a little evidence to suggest this may be the case. He is entitled to this view, but whatever else it is, it is not a strategy for “overhauling capitalism”.

    What appears to underlie much of Mason’s wider perspective is a morass of theorisation that contends that capitalism itself has entered a new condition. Sometimes referred to as “information capitalism” and “cognitive capitalism”, the claim is that individualised cognitive labour, based on interface with digital systems, has replaced the collective production processes of “industrial” capitalism.

    Certainly, information technology has changed the nature of a great deal of waged labour. But a dockworker who operates a semi-automated crane from a digital workstation is still engaged in an industrial process and in a wage relation. Combination and common organisation with other workers engaged in other aspects of that process – the workers on the ships, the workers driving the containers away from the port, the transport workers running the train networks serving the port – are still the means by which that worker, “cognitive” and technologised though their labour is, can confront their employer and affect change.

    It is on that basis, of structural position within the social and economic infrastructure of capitalism, that Marxists have understood the working class as central to the socialist project. As Wood puts it:

    “Revolutionary socialism has traditionally placed the working class and its struggles at the heart of social transformation and the building of socialism, not simply as an act of faith but as a conclusion based upon a comprehensive analysis of social relations and power. In the first place, this conclusion is based on the historical/materialist principle which places the relations of production at the centre of social life and regards their exploitative character as the root of social and political oppression. The proposition that the working class is potentially the revolutionary class is not some metaphysical abstraction but an extension of these materialist principles, suggesting that, given the centrality of production and exploitation in human social life, and given the particular nature of production and exploitation in capitalist society, certain other propositions follow.”

    In other words, it is the position of labour in the machinery of capitalism that gives its unique power. The wage relation is capitalism’s essential core. It is in the workplace where capitalism most fundamentally “happens”. Until the answer to the question “where does value come from under capitalism?” is something other than “human labour”, organised labour will continue to have this unique potential, no matter how weak, beaten-down, or misled our organisations may be at any given moment.

    For all his insistence that it must be supplanted as the agent of socialist change, Mason makes little attempt to account for what has actually happened to the working class, or where he alleges it has gone.

    “The bargaining power of the individual worker is weakened by globalisation” he says, without making any attempt to substantiate this. Globalised production process and supply chains in fact provide the potential for a greatly increased bargaining power: what is lacking is a subjective element, an organisation of workers across the supply chain that can take collective and coordinated action.

    In many ways, Mason’s use of the word “industrial” is misleading. The types of work traditionally associated with this word, such as mining and heavy manufacturing, have certainly declined in Britain. But firstly, that is not the case globally. Read against the backdrop of miners’ strikes in South Africa or factory workers’ revolts in China, Mason’s present thesis seems parochially Anglocentric, even on its own terms.

    And secondly, it is not the “industrial working class”, or any other section or subset, that Marxists posit as the key agent of change, but simply the working class as a whole: all those live by selling their labour power, and the social collective around them. Yes, certain industries, such as transport, logistics, and telecommunications, may have more strategic significance within capitalist economic functioning than others. But it is neither the case that workers outside these strategic industries are powerless, nor that the strategic industries themselves have disappeared.

    Kim Moody’s new book ‘On New Terrain‘ examines a generation of change in the American working class, and concludes that far from causing it to disappear as a strategic anti-capitalist actor, many of the changes (for example, the creation of vast logistics hubs and distribution networks) provide a renewed potential to build working-class organisation and power. Again, it is the subjective element of working-class organisation and resistance that is missing, rather than objective changes to the way in which work is structured under capitalism having rendered organised, or potentially organised, labour powerless.

    At its height, the great 1984/85 miners’ strike involved less than 150,000 workers. Around 20 times that number, close to 3 million, work in the supermarket industry today. This is not a picture of a disappearing proletariat. Many of those 3 million retail workers may not have the same direct leverage in terms of the immediate strategic significance of their labour to the economy as coal miners did, but collectively, their labour is of huge strategic significance.

    Imagine a union organised across the retail sector, organising shop workers, warehouse and distribution workers, and drivers. A strike by such a union would have an immense economic and social impact. Many of those workers might, according to some of Mason’s categories, also be “networked individuals”, in the sense of being connected by their common usage of various social media platforms, for example. Many are young. Many are migrants. All of these conditions and identities are important, but it is their position as workers, and their involvement in the production process and a wage relation, that fundamentally coheres them and gives them socially-transformative power.

    Mason also cites “precarious work” and “a culture of individualism that would have been obnoxious even to the dockers of Limehouse fighting over halfpennies on the streets in 1889” as factors that have destroyed the working class’s power to affect socialist change. Neoliberalism has indeed had ideological and cultural impacts (the “culture of individualism” Mason refers to), but there is something of imaginary-golden-age reminiscence about his Limehouse dockers “fighting over halfpennies on the streets”. In any case, those dockers were no strangers to precarious work. Indeed, the organisation of employment on the docks were heavily based in precarious hiring practises and zero-hour contracts. Far from being a uniquely new development, “precarity” has been a feature of capitalism, since its inception.

    New Unionism, and a new New Unionism?

    Mason’s article makes much of the period of “New Unionism” in the 1880s, a moment of immense upheaval and recomposition for the labour movement in Britain. This is indeed a useful focus. Where was the organised working class movement prior to this period? Weak, bureaucratised, divided in conservative and exclusionary unions based on craft, and still reeling from the defeat of Chartism, the great movement for working-class democracy, a generation previously.

    But, as Mason’s article and history records, organised labour revived. That revival did not happen by mere collision of historical forces but because conscious, organised actors within the working class undertook political and educational work to develop an approach that could catalyse struggles, spread them, and help them win.

    Mason refers to Eleanor Marx telling a crowd in Hyde Park: “enough of strikes, fight for socialism and the eight hour day”. But this is a gross misrepresentation of Marx’s role in the period. She taught Will Thorne, a gas worker in Beckton and a key strike leader and founder of the ancestor union of today’s GMB, to read. She helped found that union’s women workers’ section, and sat on its executive committee. She spoke repeatedly at rallies for the dockers and other strikers. The role of Marx in New Unionism was absolutely not, as Mason alleges, as a carrier of “the left wing orthodoxy of the previous century”. Indeed, while Marx, Thorne, Tom Mann, and other New Unionist leaders were members of the Social Democratic Federation, Britain’s first organised Marxist group, their political activity as SDF members and their industrial organising were largely separate, and the SDF as a whole tended to take a sectarian attitude to the reviving labour movement. Their roles in New Unionism were precisely to break from orthodoxy and inertia, to find an opportunity to light a fire, and to help it spread.

    The potential for labour movement renewal and recomposition today, a new New Unionism, lies precisely in the struggles of the modern analogues of the workers who made the 1880s movement: the precariously-employed, often migrant, often women, often young workers largely on the margins of the existing, bureaucratic unions, whose self-organisation and activity exploded the inertia.

    Fast food workers in the Bakers’ union and cinema workers in the Bectu section of Prospect taking on multinational corporate giants in McDonald’s and Cineworld; restaurant workers in Unite; outsourced migrant cleaners in small unions like IWGBCAIWU, and UVW, as well as in established unions like RMT, fighting for living wages and direct employment; “gig economy” workers exploding the myth that superficially atomising employment practises have robbed them of power and leverage; and politically-disparate but expanding attempts to consider how workers in the immensely strategically-significant logistics and distribution industries can organise. These are sparks that can be fanned into a conflagration if the workers within them, supported by organised socialist activists in the wider labour movement acting as the “memory of the class” and providing a repository of previous struggles, victories, and defeats, undertake the same conscious efforts that Marx, Mann, Thorne, and others took in their day.

    The Corbyn surge and the return to class: how to transform the labour movement?

    The immediate backdrop for Mason’s essay is the Corbyn phenomenon in the Labour Party. Still immensely febrile and in flux, this movement has seen hundreds of thousands of people, many of them young, flood into the Labour Party, inspired by a sharp break from Blairite orthodoxy on many policies. The movement has the potential to radically transform the party, making it more democratic, rooted in working-class communities, and a catalyst, supporter, and political representative of working-class social and industrial struggle.

    In this sense, Mason is right to aspire to a party that is both itself a social movement and part of a wider social movement. But to overthrow or even meaningfully confront capitalism, that social movement needs deep roots in capitalism’s engine room: the workplace. A return to class on this basis can move past the psephological triangulations between the perceived wants and desires of “metropolitan”, socially-liberal workers and youth on the one hand, and those of ex-“industrial”, socially-conservative workers in the north and Midlands on the other. A democratically and politically transformed Labour Party could seek to organise, represent, and empower both groups on the basis of a shared class interest.

    The Corbyn surge is yet to find a real expression in the trade union movement. Even Unison’s Dave Prentis, a notoriously bureaucratic and conservative leader, has managed to position himself as a Corbynite. What the situation requires is not a desperate casting around for a new agency, but a conscious effort to transform and revolutionise the existing labour movement.

    In the first place, the young people energised by the Corbyn surge need to express that energy where they work. The US collective Labor Notes’ Troublemaker’s Handbook provides a basic manual for fighting back against the direct and immediate representative of capital in your own life: your boss. Socialists involved in the Labour Party should be seeking to adapt it for a British context, and run workshops on it through local Labour Parties and Momentum groups.

    Trade union militants in Labour should be agitating for it to become the party of strikes. For the first time in generations, a genuine organic link can be made between the demands of strikes and Labour Party policy. Labour can say to striking McDonald’s workers: we are the political expression of the demands of your strike. If we are in government, we will legislate to secure your demands. And, conversely, McDonald’s workers seeking to politically bolster their industrial dispute can join and becoming active in Labour, not as passive electoral foot-soldiers but as conscious actors seeking to express their class interests on the political terrain.

    Within unions, the dynamic energy of the Corbyn surge can be a force for democratic renewal, just as it has the potential to be within the party. The tradition of independent rank-and-file organisation and insurgency is largely submerged in the British labour movement, but it is one that may soon be rediscovered by, for example, University and College Union (UCU) members organising to build a counter-power in their union against a capitulatory leadership. UCU is not a Labour-affiliated union, but many of the activists leading the new rank-and-file initiative are broadly situated within the milieu of the Corbyn surge. Many of them, no doubt, would also fall into Mason’s category of “educated, young, networked people”, but like the skilled cognitive dockworker operating computer systems in a container port, it is their position as workers, and their involvement in transformative struggle within class organisations, that gives them their power.

    In this way, there can be a symbiotic relationship between the radical transformation of both the political and industrial wings of the labour movement. This will be a prerequisite for consolidating and defending, even on its own moderate social-democratic terms, the Corbyn project in government. If a Corbyn-led Labour government attempts to legislate for a £10/hour universal living wage for example, and rogue employers simply refuse to cough up the increase, how else will that policy be enforced other than by those employers’ workers leveraging their own class power and striking to enforce it? That level of militancy and organisation can be achieved if socialists active in the Labour Party and the unions develop a perspective of building for it right now.

    There are other voices in the Labour milieu advocating what might present itself as a “return to class”. But refocusing on class on the basis of seeking a radical transformation and renewal of the labour movement is quite distinct from the perspective advocated by, for example, the Blue Labour tendency. This ostensible return to class is in fact a form of nostalgic identity politics, with class conceived of as a category of cultural identity, often figured in deeply socially-conservative terms – see Blue Labour’s use of the slogan “faith, family, and flag” – rather than a collective social relation.

    The working class has never really resembled the picture painted by both Stalinists and Blairite “authentocrats” like Stephen Kinnock, centred on an archetypal male, white, essentialised worker, in a manual industrial job, part of a “stable community”. That was not the working class of New Unionism; it is not the working class of today. Our class comprises migrant workers, women workers, LGBT workers, benefit claimants and the unemployed, and women engaged in unpaid domestic labour. A revitalised and transformed labour movement must become the organised expression of our class as a whole.

    Horizons beyond electoralism

    Accompanying, and informing, Mason’s retreat from class is an unacknowledged but massive contraction of his political horizons.

    Despite his selective quotations from (Karl) Marx, and despite stating in the introduction to his essay that he wants to “overhaul” capitalism, he now argues that “the ultimate, and most revolutionary form of political action that can be taken amid a neoliberal system in crisis is to put a party into government committed to the positive goals and values of “educated, young, networked people”, etc.

    Wood answered him in 1986:

    “In the final analysis, the theoretical and political touchstone for the NTS [“New True Socialists”, Wood’s tag for the post-class left of her day] is not socialism at all, but simply electoral victory. Once we understand that the logic of their argument is an electoralist logic, once we accept that their standards of success and failure have little to do with the conditions for establishing socialism and everything to do with constructing victorious electoral alliances […] it will at least make some kind of political sense.”

    This is not to dismiss the importance of electoral activity, or organisation on the political terrain. Marx and Engels’s identification of three fronts of class struggle – ideological (or theoretical), political, and economic – remains a vital frame, and the socialist movement must be actively organised and intervening on all three. Electing a Labour government and shaping, pushing, and radicalising its policies via pressure from below, including extra-parliamentary action, should be a key aim. But it is only by reconnecting with class, the structuring relationship at the core of capitalism, that this electoral horizon can be expanded into a horizon of revolutionary anti-capitalist counter-power.

    Mason has retreated from class into the diminished horizons of electoralism, confecting a substitute agent for the project that is part radical-sociological woo-woo (tip: another word for “member of the ‘salariat'” is… “worker”) and part psephological fantasy. It is a defeatist recoiling from a situation of weakness, masquerading as innovation. Contrary to its own claims, it does not develop Marxist politics, but gives up on them.

    Our task is to rebuild class power, not to pretend it no longer matters. The socialist project does not need to move beyond class, but return to it. This is not a matter of millennarian faith in a historical mission, but of renewing our political resolve and undertaking an act of will to help our class unlock its potential. As Hal Draper, the great writer of the unorthodox-Trotskyist American left, put it in his 1950s article ‘Why The Working Class?’:

    “The socialist revolution, once observed Rosa Luxemburg, is a war in which there are necessarily a continuous series of ‘defeats’ followed by only one victory. Nothing can be guaranteed, of course, except the honor and dignity of fighting for a new and better world, rather than the vileness of adapting one’s mind and heart to a vile one.”

    Young activists eager to forge from today’s febrile political moment a movement that can overhaul capitalism and replace it with socialism – radical democracy, common ownership, and social freedom – would do better to take their strategic advice from Hal Draper, Eleanor Marx, and Ellen Meiksins Wood than Paul Mason.

    The Marxist project – working-class self-emancipation, and through it, the emancipation of all humanity – is as possible now as it ever was. What it requires is new activists to fight for it.

    Originally posted at openDemocracy.net.

  • Nicaragua—Protest, Repression, Negotiations

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    The upheaval in Nicaragua that lasted from April 18 to April 21 and the repression that reportedly left 63 dead, 15 missing and 160 injured by gunfire, have both subsided for the moment. The protests halted after President Daniel Ortega announced the cancellation of his proposed changes in the social security pension law. Photographers were among those beaten. Other human rights centers and the Jesuit University of Central America in Managua as well as Nicaraguan newspaper accounts and discussions with people in Managua confirm many of these deaths and injuries.

    Since April 22 Nicaraguans have participated in numerous marches, some raising the call for “Peace and Justice,” and many of the participants carrying placards calling upon President Ortega and his vice-president and wife Rosario Murillo to resign. On April 26 an enormous pilgrimage of tens of thousands called for peace and negotiation organized by the Catholic Church.

    The early protests and the subsequent peace marches—and those killed or injured in them—have involved virtually every sector of Nicaraguan society: students, workers, religious leaders and their lay associates, medical and veterinary students, employees of private companies, and business leaders. La Prensa, a conservative newspaper, produced a photo essay that puts faces on the protesters.

    While the protests began with opposition to the increasing in social security payments and the accompany reduction in benefits, they soon became massive outpourings against the violent repression of peaceful protestors, and finally a call for the end to the Ortega dictatorship. The Catholic hierarchy in Nicaragua is attempting to mediate the conflict and to organize a dialog between Ortega and his opponents. The questions now are: Who will get a seat at the table? and Will Ortega be willing to negotiate his own resignation?

    The Repression

    Ortega and Murillo ultimately hold responsibility for the repression that was organized both through the police forces and by the Sandinista party (FSLN) through the Sandinista Youth (JS). For years, as I discuss in my book What Went Wrong?,  the party and its youth group have harassed and beaten opposition political candidates, feminists, workers, farmers and other dissidents.

    Among the most serious incidents (which are documented in my book and also in the Revista Envío available in Spanish and English) were these:

    • In 2008 both the Catholic Church and the Rosario Murillo who was part of the Ortega administration attacked the Autonomous Women’s Movement which supported abortion rights including helping a nine-year old rape victim get an abortion. The Catholic Church filed a criminal proceeding against the Network of Women Against Violence while Ortega’s Attorney General raided the office of the Autonomous Women’s Movement. The government engaged in a persistent campaign aimed at intimidating feminists.
    • In May of 2008 the Ortega government sent police to break a strike by truck and taxi drivers, during which police beat the strikers and intentionally broke truck windows.
    • In August of 2008 Sandinista thugs attacked political opposition protesters in the city of León.
    • In February of 2009 Sandinista goons attacked protest demonstrations by political opponents in Jinotega, Chinandega, and León.
    • Throughout 2014 farmers’ and environmentalists’ protests against Ortega’s Chinese-financed inter-oceanic canal were violent repressed with scores of injured and five killed.

    In many of these incidents, the police and Sandinista hooligans cooperate, or the police look the other way as the Sandinista heavies do their dirty work.

    All of this makes us want to know, What went wrong? The following is a reprint of my October 17, 2016 New Politics article written on the eve of the Nicaraguan election in which Ortega was reelected. 

    An Authoritarian Government

    In late July 2016 President Daniel Ortega, running for his third consecutive term as president—his fourth term altogether—succeeded in having sixteen members of the opposition expelled from the legislature. Also removed were their 12 alternates, 28 legislators altogether. Those who were removed belonged to both the conservative Independent Liberal Party (PLI) led by banker Eduardo Montealegre and to the Movement for Sandinista Renovation Movement (MRS), originally a leftist breakaway from Ortega’s own FSLN. The legislators’ removal ended any semblance of political pluralism and gave Ortega absolute control over the parliament, making Nicaragua effectively a one-party state on the eve of the November 2016 election.

    Then at the beginning of August, Ortega announced that his running mate for vice-president would be his wife Rosario Murillo, now the Minister of Communications and in practice already the country’s co-president. The Nicaraguan Constitution once forbid anyone from holding the office of president for two consecutive terms or from holding more than two non-consecutive terms as president, as well as forbidding a spouse from being a candidate. Ortega’s control of the Supreme Court, the legislature and the Supreme Electoral Council made it possible for him to create a new constitution in 2014 that allowed him to run for president for a third term. To make sure that there is no questioning of the election procedure, Ortega has forbidden international election observers. Ortega and his wife, who have placed their children in positions in government, appear to have insured that, like the Somozas before them, they will hand power on to their children and establish another dynastic dictatorship.

    Nicaragua’s National Coalition for Democracy called the coming elections to be carried out under these conditions “a farce,” while the Bishops of the Catholic Church condemned Ortega’s attempt to impose a one-party regime. Faced with the closing off of democratic options important figures on both the right and the left have suggested that a revolt may be the only option. On the right, Carlos Fernando Chamorro, the son of former president Violeta Chamorro, told the Nicaraguans that the situation had “legitimized the right to rebel.” Vilma Núñez, a longtime FSLN activist who had challenged Ortega for the FSLN presidential nomination in 1996 and who today heads the Nicaraguan Human Rights Center (CENIDH), went even further, calling upon the Nicaraguan people to exercise their “right to rebellion.”[1] Creating a new dictatorship, Ortega may also be creating the conditions for a future revolution, though at the moment neither the forces nor the leadership for a rebellion exist.  

    Daniel and Danielismo

    Ortega has ruled Nicaragua intermittently since the Nicaraguan Revolution of 1979. He headed the revolutionary government from 1979 to 1990, first as head of the revolutionary Junta that ruled the country from 1979-1985 and then as elected president from 1985-1990. He ran unsuccessfully for president in 1996 and 2001, but even out of office, he generally controlled the legislature, working as a partner with the conservative Liberal Party governments. Then in the 2006 elections he won the presidency with a plurality of 38 percent of the vote and won again in 2011 with 62 percent of vote. Polls show him likely to win this election by 60 percent or more, a testimony not so much to his leadership as to the ruling couple’s control of the government, of the social welfare programs, and of much of the media.

    Ortega’s political domination of the country today is nearly absolute. Since he took office as president for the second time in 2007, Ortega, the former guerrilla fighter and leader of the Sandinista Front for National Liberation (FSLN), has succeeded in concentrating in his hands the control not only of the executive office—which he shares in an irregular and extra-constitutional manner with his wife Rosario Murillo—but also domination of the Supreme Court, of the legislature, and of the Supreme Electoral Council. His political power is reinforced by his personal control over Venezuela’s financial contributions to Nicaragua, and until recently by an alliance with the Catholic Church constructed around opposition to abortion and feminism, as well as by his association with the country’s largest corporations and wealthiest families, not to mention his shrewd buying up of radio and TV stations.

    The FSLN, better known as the Sandinistas, once a revolutionary party, functions today as a typical political machine, winning votes through fear and favors. The party is constructed around “Daniel” and a system and ideology of social welfare that has come to be called Danielismo. The FSLN has created a cult of personality around Ortega that rivals any, with huge portraits of Ortega and Murillo appearing on billboards throughout Managua year in and year out, while crowds are brought out to public places to chant, “Daniel! Daniel!” To enhance his image, periodically Ortega stands beside foreign heads of state with left-wing credentials—Hugo Chávez before he died, Nicolás Maduro since then; Fidel and later Raúl Castro; and also Evo Morales of Bolivia—maintaining the illusion that his government has something to do with some sort of socialism. In fact what he shares with those leaders is not socialism but rather his stature as a populist caudillo, though now one with right-wing politics.

    Regrettably and shamefully, much of the Latin American and U.S. left continues to support Ortega and the Sandinista government, largely because of its alliance with the Cuban Communist regime and Venezuelan Bolivarian government. The Foro de São Paulo, the conference of Latin America’s left parties, continues to treat the FSLN as if it were a genuine left party, while TeleSUR, the TV station and news service supported by Venezuela, Cuba, and several other Latin American governments, brushes off any criticism of Ortega as right-wing and imperialist. Some on the U.S. and European left suggest that any criticism of Ortega and the FSLN is either directed by or serves the interest of the U.S. State Department.[2] Yet for decades some of the strongest criticism of Ortega has come from Nicaraguans, many of them former Sandinista leaders who argue that Ortega long ago abandoned any socialist principles.

    Some American and other foreign leftists, such as Roger Burbach or more recently Jennifer Goett and Courtney Desiree Morris have criticized Daniel Ortega, placing responsibility on U.S. imperialism and on Ortega personally for the betrayal of the revolution, but denying that the Sandinistas’ political values and particular leftist ideals had anything to do with the revolution’s degeneration. In fact, the core beliefs of the Sandinistas—the political vision and theory of Carlos Fonseca, Tomás Borge, and Daniel Ortega—not only contributed to the revolution’s deterioration but lie at its root.

    The Nicaraguan situation must be appraised not only in terms of U.S. imperialism and of Ortega as a leader, but also by making analysis of the country’s history and of its political and economic regime. Analyzing Nicaragua’s supposedly “socialist” regime, we must ask the same questions we would if we were analyzing any other nation: What is the nature of the political system? Who rules? Whose voice is not heard? What is the nature of the economic system? Who profits? Who works for low wages? Who must emigrate to find work? 

    While Ortega and his party govern, a handful of extremely wealthy families dominate the economy, enriching themselves at the expense of the country’s people. Nicaragua remains the poorest nation in Latin America, excepting Haiti, with 12 percent of the population unemployed and over 30 percent of the population living in poverty and 8 percent in extreme poverty. Nicaragua ranked 125th out of 188 nations on the United Nations Human Development Index in 2015.[3]

    In 1979 Nicaragua experienced a genuine revolution, one that utterly destroyed the Somoza dictatorship, swept away the state, and created a new political system. At the time there was talk of a mixed economy, political, pluralism, and democratic socialism. National literacy and health campaigns improved the lives of much of the country’s rural population. The U.S.-backed Contra War in Nicaragua kept the Sandinista government of the 1980s from carrying out much of its reform program, while the 1990 election and subsequent elections brought right-wing governments to power. When Daniel Ortega and the Sandinistas returned to power in 2006, they were no longer the revolutionary party with the socialist program of the past. Rather Ortega and the Sandinistas allied with big business, the Catholic Church, and right-wing parties lead a government with neoliberal economic programs combined with social welfare programs, what has been called “social liberalism.” We examine here exactly how this transformation took place, as explained in much greater detail in my book What Went Wrong? The Nicaraguan Revolution: A Marxist Analysis.

    The Imperialist Background

    Imperial powers—the Aztecs, the Spanish, the British, and the Americans—all took advantage of the fact that Nicaragua was a small territory, sparsely populated, and easily penetrated. While the Aztecs never fully controlled the country, Spain conquered and ruled Nicaragua for 300 years, establishing the domination of the conquerors’ descendants over the indigenous and over the African people who had been brought as slaves.

    When thanks to revolutions in Mexico and South America between 1810 and 1821 all of Spanish America became independent, Nicaragua did as well, but while the Conservatives in the city of Granada and Liberals in León fought for control of the Pacific coast, the British entered into a treaty with indigenous Miskito people on the Caribbean coast, establishing a protectorate.

    Later, with the discovery of gold in California, New York shipping magnate Cornelius “Commodore” Vanderbilt established a shipping line to Nicaragua, together with overland and overwater service across the isthmus to the Pacific coast and from there to California and the goldfields. The American businessman’s involvement in Nicaragua perturbed the British who dominated Latin American banking and ran the import-export houses, leading to rising tensions between the two Anglo-Saxon imperial powers.

    Then suddenly William Walker, an American filibuster—a politically ambitious pirate, with a small army of a couple of hundred men—inserted himself into the Conservative-Liberal conflict and quickly took control of the country, making himself president. Walker made English an official language, instituted slavery, and made it clear that he had broader ambitions in Central America and the Caribbean. Seeing the threat to their own existence, the surrounding nations—Costa Rica, Honduras, and El Salvador—raised an army, and, with the support of Vanderbilt and the British, defeated and expelled Walker, who during a later attempted invasion attempt was captured and executed.

    Vanderbilt and Walker had brought Nicaragua to the attention of the United States, and the American eagle now had its eyes on the little country to the south, waiting for his chance.

    Following the Central American war against Walker, a joint Conservative-Liberal government came to power in Nicaragua and established its authority in the Pacific region—the “Thirty-Year Regime” it was called. But the country languished until the late nineteenth century sugar boom when José Santos Zelaya, a Liberal leader from Managua, center of the new sugar industry, took power in a coup.

    Zelaya was determined to make Nicaragua a modern state, to create a United States of Central America, and to establish a degree of independence from the United States of America, which had meanwhile invested heavily in lumber, mining, and agriculture. Zelaya’s national project, however, coincided with the rise of the United States to Great Power status through foreign wars, the taking of colonies, and the building of an empire.

    Under President McKinley, the United States fought and won the Spanish American War of 1898 taking Cuba and Puerto Rico, while in 1903, with the subterfuge of support for independence movement, President Roosevelt took Panama from Colombia. With the United States becoming the dominant power in the region, Zelaya’s plans for a stronger Nicaragua and a united Central America were doomed.

    With the pretext of supporting a supposed democracy movement in Nicaragua that opposed Zelaya’s tyranny, President Taft ordered the U.S. Marines to invade and occupy the country in 1909, an occupation that in several phases that would last until 1933. The U.S. took control of the political system through a puppet president, while also managing the national finances, and running much of the economy. Nicaragua became a colony in all but name.

    The Nicaraguan Liberals, however, continued to fight against the Conservatives who under U.S. tutelage now ran the country, leading to a civil war from 1926 to 1927. But when the Liberals finally gave up the fight, one man, Augusto César Sandino, refused to lay down his arms.

     

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    Sandino, a mystic and a radical, organized what he called the Army in Defense of the National Sovereignty of Nicaragua, in reality a ragged band of a few hundred workers and peasants who fought a guerrilla war against the U.S. Marines 1927 until 1933 when the Marines finally left. But it was not Sandino who had driven them away.

    President Franklin D. Roosevelt, fearing a war in Europe, called for a “Good Neighbor Policy.” FDR withdrew the U.S. Marines from Nicaragua and other nations in the region, but in their stead the United States worked with friendly governments, often dictatorships, establish U.S. Marine-trained “National Guards,” armed forces that could be counted on to protect pro-American governments and American interests.

    In Nicaragua, as the U.S. Marines left, Anastasio “Tacho” Somoza García became head of the new National Guard. When the new Nicaraguan Liberal president, Juan Bautista Sacasa, took power in January 1933, he called for peace negotiations between himself, Somoza, and Sandino. Somoza took advantage of one of the meetings to kidnap and assassinate Sandino; from that moment Somoza effectively became the ruler of Nicaragua, winning election to the presidency in 1937.

    Somoza, his sons Luis and Antonio Somoza Debayle, backed by the United States, would rule the country from 1937 to 1979, maintaining their power through a series of pacts with the opposition political parties combined with whatever repression as needed. They modernized the country, building highways and improving the agricultural economy, while enriching property-owning class and themselves; the majority of Nicaraguans remained poor, often hungry, unhealthy, and illiterate.

    Virtually a monarchy, the Somoza family was for two generations all-powerful in Nicaragua. The Somoza dictatorship led to opposition: various attempts at armed rebellion by the Conservatives, including the assassination of Tacho Somoza in 1956 (succeeded immediately by one of his sons), were followed by the rise in the 1960s of a revolutionary movement taking its name from Sandino and calling itself the Sandinista Front for National Liberation or FSLN.

    The Origins of the Sandinistas

    Earlier, in the 1930s, pro-Soviet Communists had organized the Nicaraguan Socialist Party (PSN), which, following the Communist International’s line, supported a Popular Front against fascism. In practice this meant supporting Tacho Somoza while simultaneously attempting to expand democratic rights and organize labor unions. This was a virtually impossible task, but this remained the Communist PSN’s position until the 1970s.

    It was in this pro-Soviet Communist Party that the founders of the Sandinistas—Carlos Fonseca, Tomás Borge, and others—received their early political education, an experience that made them life-long supporters of the “Communist camp” and believers in a Communist-style of party organization.

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    In 1957 the PSN chose the young Fonseca to visit the Soviet Union, a year after Nikita Khrushchev’s revelation of Stalin’s crimes at the Twentieth Congress of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union and not long after the Soviet’s crushing of the Hungarian Revolution. Yet Fonseca, future founder and leader of the Sandinistas until his death in 1976, remained a staunch supporter of Stalin and praised the Soviet Union for crushing the Hungarian uprising.

    The Cuban Revolution of 1959 changed everything for leftists throughout Latin American, including the Sandinistas. Fidel Castro’s “26 of July” guerrilla movement’s overthrow of the dictatorship of Fulgencio Batista established an alternative leftist strategy, one not based on peaceful, gradual, electoral politics, but predicated upon armed revolution led by a dedicated guerrilla band.

    Latin American revolutionaries in many countries turned away from the Communist Popular Front and took up armed struggle, believing it was possible to struggle not simply for a bourgeois-democratic state but for socialism. Fonseca justified the strategic change of direction in Nicaragua arguing that Augusto César Sandino had used just such a guerrilla war strategy in his struggle against the U.S. Marines in the 1920s.

    Convinced by Castro’s model and Ernesto “Che” Guevara’s theory of the guerrilla foco, Fonseca and his co-thinkers left the Communist PSN, breaking with its Popular Front politics, and took up the Cuban example, but they never paused to reflect uponand never  criticized Stalin, Communist Party organization, or the Soviet Union. While becoming guerrilla warriors in the Cuban model, they would remain lifelong supporters of the Soviet Union and the Communist camp.

    Founded in 1962, the Sandinistas courageously pursued a guerrilla strategy for more than 15 years, fighting and dying in the mountains of Nicaragua, but their strategy proved unsuccessful and by 1977 they had been virtually wiped out by Somoza’s National Guard. The FSLN’s guerrilla foco established two things: their heroism and their absolute and uncompromised determination to overthrow Somoza, but it also proved that their strategy was an utter failure.

    The failure of their approach led the FSLN to split into three rival tendencies. Tomás Borge headed the Prolonged Peoples’ War tendency, which modified the Cuban model by adopting Mao Tse-Tung’s Peoples’ War theory, based on the notion of building up a peasant army in the countryside. Jaime Wheelock led the Proletarian Tendency, with the more traditional Marxist notion of organizing agricultural laborers and other workers.

    Daniel Ortega was the leader of the Third or Insurrectionary Tendency that called for an alliance with other political organizations and with all Nicaraguan social classes, while at the same time seeking support from foreign governments in Europe and Latin America, and building a real army to invade Nicaragua from Costa Rica. By 1978, partly under pressure from Cuba, the three tendencies had reconciled, all of them supporting the Third Tendency position.

    Dictator Anastasio Somoza Debayle had selfishly enriched himself until he dominated so many industries that by the mid-1970s he had alienated and angered many in the Nicaraguan bourgeoisie. Nicaragua’s capitalists and Liberal and Conservative politicians organized the Democratic Union of Liberation in 1974 to oppose Somoza and the FSLN began to work with this bourgeois opposition. In 1978 the Sandinistas and its coalition partners presented to the world a new face of the revolution: Los Doce, the Twelve, a group of intellectuals, businessmen, and religious leaders—not one Sandinista revolutionary among them, apparently—who called upon Somoza to resign.

    The country seethed with protest and rebellion as the newly formed Sandinista Army began its offensive. The Somoza government appeared about to collapse, and U.S. President Jimmy Carter, having concluded that it was impossible to save Somoza, worked through the Organization of American States to negotiate the dictator’s exit while preserving the government and the murderous National Guard, in order to prevent the FSLN from coming to power. The Broad Opposition Front (FAO), dominated by moderates, accepted the idea, but, when Somoza called for a plebiscite on his resignation, negotiations broke down. Carter then called for elections to create a “constitutional” successor government.

    With that the FSLN left the FAO and with the United Peoples Movement created a new coalition the National Patriot Front. When National Guardsmen murdered ABC reporter Bill Stewart, a murder caught on camera and broadcast to the American public, Carter could no longer prevent the revolution from bringing down not only Somoza but the Guard and the government as well.  

    The FSLN had meanwhile built up its army under the shield of a friendly government in Costa Rica, strengthened by hundreds of Latin American volunteers. As the FSLN launched its attacks, supported by uprising in cities and towns throughout the country, Somoza’s National Guard tortured and murdered many young people while his air force bombed working class neighborhoods in the major cities.

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    The revolutionary movement cold not b suppressed. The FSLN, now supported by the entire country, pushed on to Managua in the midst of a popular national uprising, taking power on July 17, 1979. The revolution was greeted with jubilation by virtually the entire Nicaraguan population.

     

    The FSLN in Power

    The Sandinistas came to power with extremely widespread support and surprisingly with no competitors for power. The FSLN hurriedly a convened a three-day meeting of 400 members (virtually its entire membership in a nation of almost three million people) and adopted the “72-Hour Document.” The document stated that the FSLN planned to consolidate itself as a Marxist-Leninist Party; that its goal was the “dictatorship of the proletariat”; that it should become part of the Communist camp with the Soviet Union, Eastern European Bloc, Vietnam and Cuba; and that it would work through temporary alliances with other classes and political groups until it achieved those goals. As many of them said, their goal was to create another Cuba.

    Publicly, however, the FSLN stated that it wanted to have a mixed economy, a pluralistic government, and a non-aligned foreign policy. That is, while planning to create a Cuban-style, one-party, Communist state that would become part of the Communist camp, the Sandinistas presented themselves as social democrats. Their duplicitous position confused and confounded both their enemies and their allies.

    Always until then a clandestine “military-political organization,” now that the Revolution had been won, the FSLN was in a position to call a democratic convention of its members, to adopt a constitution, to ratify a program, and to elect a leadership—but the FSLN did none of those things. In fact, the FSLN would call no convention until after it lost power in 1990. The FSLN’s nine-man directorate would continue to lead the party through top-down commands to the country’s regions and zones as it had since its founding. Democracy in the party was not a core value of the Sandinistas; on the contrary, an authoritarian, quasi-military organization remained in place.

    To rule the country, the FSLN created two bodies: la Junta de gobierno (the Governing Committee) and el Consejo del Estado (Council of State). The Consejo, was presented as a kind of popular parliament, though the member organizations were chosen by the Junta and were overwhelmingly FSLN controlled mass organizations: labor unions, women’s groups, and farmers. In reality, the Consejo took no initiatives on its own.

    The real decisions were made by the Junta, made up of five members, two moderate business people and two Sandinistas, and a fifth supposedly neutral person. But the fifth person, author Sergio Ramírez, was actually a secret FSLN member, allowing the FSLN to dominate. When the two non-FSLN members realized that they were being lied to and manipulated, naturally they resigned. The FSLN National Directorate headed by Daniel Ortega thus became the country’s government. While other parties existed, they had no role in government.

    Democracy wasn’t an important Sandinista value, but equality was. The FSLN launched a remarkable national literacy campaign involving tens of thousands of young people who went to every region of the country teaching people to read and write.

    The new revolutionary government also made health care a priority, educating new doctors and nurses, creating a public health system with clinics and hospitals that brought health care to hundreds of thousands of people who had never in their lives seen a doctor.

    Once in power, the FSLN leaders and party members took over virtually all of the government’s most important offices, making themselves the heads of ministries that had thousands of employees and managed important resources. In this way the FSLN began to fuse with the state, much like the Communist Party in Cuba or the Institutional Revolutionary Party in Mexico.

    The Sandinistas nationalized the country’s banks and the U.S.-owned mines and lumber industry, but avoided confrontation with the largest U.S. corporations such as Caterpillar, Exxon, IBM, and Texaco. Understandably and quite reasonably, the FSLN nationalized the properties of Somoza and of other capitalists who had left the country and supported the armed opposition.

    The FSLN did not nationalize the properties of all Nicaraguan businesspeople, however. Those who stayed in the country and continued to produce could keep their property and produce their goods, though the only market for them was the Sandinista government. Still, many of the Nicaraguan capitalists who stayed in the country were hostile to the government, even if not involved in the armed resistance, and worked to undermine it.

    The Sandinistas now ran the country’s government, managed national finances and controlled much of the economy. Suddenly, the men who had lived such dangerous and precarious lives in the mountains had salaries, automobiles and homes. Somozas’ fleet of Mercedes-Benz autos passed into the hand of FSLN comandantes. The FSLN took over the mansions of the bourgeoisie and used them for offices and in many cases for residences for the leaders. Even if most at first lived modestly, the slender edge of the wedge of privilege began to separate the leadership from the regular party members.

    The Sandinistas developed plans for the management of the economy, but the execution of the plans proved difficult for a variety of reasons. To begin with, the country was poor and suffering from Somoza’s destructive bombing of the cities. Somoza and other wealthy people had carried their money off to Miami or to other Central American or Caribbean countries. The comandantes, each ensconced in his own ministry, worked to strengthen their respective positions within the state, some developing mega-projects that absorbed tremendous resources without necessarily producing many benefits. The capitalists who remained in Nicaragua often resisted the government’s proposals, sabotaging national plans, while the mass of the population raised its own demands for economic improvements, demands that the FSLN administration could not meet.

    The FSLN organized and controlled a range of mass organizations in Nicaraguan society to provide the party with a social base of power and to resist the capitalist class and the conservative parties. After more than forty years of dictatorship, the Nicaraguans were anxious to organize themselves and use their collective power to right the wrongs that they had endured.

    The farmers wanted land while the working class wanted higher wages, but these groups would find it hard to fulfill their desires. The Sandinistas, who believed in state ownership of the farmland and collectivized agriculture, declined to give farmers titles to their land, and many became disgruntled, some joining the armed opposition.

    Workers wanted higher wages, but the Sandinista government, which controlled the largest labor unions, worked to restrain workers’ wages in what the Sandinistas saw as the interests of the whole society. Especially after the U.S. backed Contra War began the Sandinistas cracked down on the independent labor unions. When independent left-wing unions or right-wing unions struck, the government crushed their strikes.

    The Contra War

    Republican Ronald Reagan was elected president in 1980 on a campaign platform that included support for “the efforts of the Nicaraguan people to establish a free and independent government.” The meaning of this phrase was clear: he would work to overthrow the Sandinistas. In January of 1981, Reagan, operating through the U.S. Central Intelligence Agency, successfully pressured the more moderate Nicaraguan opposition to unite with the more right-wing elements including the former National Guard officers. By March 1982 the Contra War began with the bombing of bridges in northern Nicaragua.

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    The CIA helped the new Contra movement, armed by the United States, to establish a headquarters in Honduras from which it launched sorties, principally attacks on civilian Sandinista institutions such as schools, health clinics, and agricultural cooperatives, killing many. The U.S. would spend hundreds of millions of dollars in support of the Contras in an attempt to bring down the Sandinista government by force. The CIA’s support for the Contras was supplemented by an economic embargo that strangled the economy and brought tremendous hardship to the Nicaraguan people.

    The Sandinistas, however, also made mistakes that deepened what became not simply a foreign military intervention on the side of the old regime, but a genuine civil war with working people fighting and dying on both sides. Many small farmers, disappointed in not receiving title to their land, went off in significant numbers to join the Contras.

    The Sandinistas’ dealings with the indigenous Miskito peoples on the Caribbean coast, at first insensitive and then aggressive—aggravated by CIA and U.S. State Department intervention—led some of the Miskitos to join the Contras as well. Finally, fighting not only the old National Guard but also Nicaraguan peasants and indigenous people, and with its back to the wall, the Sandinista government instituted military conscription, a tremendously unpopular policy that led many young Nicaraguans to dodge the draft by fleeing to Contra held territory.

    Because Reagan’s principal charge against the Sandinistas and a point of leverage with other governments was the fact that the FSLN had never been elected to power, it was decided to hold national elections to a genuine legislature and to a new set of offices that included a president. Daniel Ortega was the FSLN presidential candidate running against Arturo Cruz, one of Los Doce, who had gone into the legal opposition. Though secretly subsidized by the CIA, the U.S. government came to the conclusion that Cruz could not win and pressured him to withdraw at the last minute, making Ortega’s election with 67 percent of the vote appear to be illegitimate because there was no opposition candidate.

    The FSLN government, now based on a national election, and still controlling the country’s mass organizations, was more powerful than ever, though it was a government that less resembled Communist Cuba and more and more resembled Mexico.

    ImageBy the mid-1980s, under pressure from the Central American solidarity movement, which had a great deal of support from U.S. churches, the United States Congress was beginning to turn against the war. The Boland Amendment to the 1985 budget cut off funding to the war. But Ronald Reagan, not to be stopped, arranged for the secret and illegal sale of weapons to Iran via Israel, the proceeds of the sale to be used to continue to support the Contras. The story of the unlawful Iran-Contra deal came to light in 1986, further discrediting the Reagan administration and leading to the end of U.S. support for the Contras, while at about the same time the Soviet Union began to phase out support to the Sandinistas.

    The U.S.-backed Contra War had a devastating impact on Nicaragua, making it virtually impossible for the Sandinistas to pursue their ambitious program of economic and social reforms. In fact, by the mid-1980s the Sandinistas had been forced by the war and embargo to impose neoliberal policies, reducing taxes on businesses and cutting the budget for social programs.

    The U.S. intervention in Nicaragua—taking place at the same time as civil wars in both El Salvador and Guatemala, where the U.S. backed right-wing governments against left-wing guerrilla movements—represented a threat to the entire region. Faced with that reality, Costa Rican President Oscar Arias courageously, in defiance of Reagan, called for peace negotiations between the Sandinistas and the Contras, and finally in March of 1988 the war ended.

    The war’s impact had been devastating: 30,865 Nicaraguans had been killed, 30,000 or more wounded and maimed; the war had cost of $1.9 billion, while the embargo represented another $1 billion loss. The Nicaraguan government sued the United States for damages at the World Court, which ordered the U.S. to pay Nicaragua $17 billion in war reparations. The U.S. government refused, still intent on destroying the Nicaraguan economy and driving the Sandinistas from power.

    From Revolution to Reaction

    A year after the war ended, preparations began for the 1990 presidential and legislative elections. Daniel Ortega put himself forward as the FSLN candidate, campaigning in his military uniform as a leader of the revolution and of the war against the Contras. The FSLN, which had still never held a convention, was transformed from a military-political organization into an electoral party aimed at getting out the vote.

    Opposing Ortega and the FSLN was “The National Union of Opposition” (UNO), an unwieldy coalition of all the opposition parties, from the Conservatives on the right to the Communists on the left. Encouraged by the CIA, UNO chose as its president Violeta Chamorro, widow of the famous Conservative leader and opposition journalist Pedro Joaquín Chamorroa, widely believed to have been assassinated by Somoza shortly before the Revolution.

    Violeta Chamorro had revolutionary credentials herself since she had been a member of the Junta, though now she presented herself as a housewife, mother and grandmother who would reunite the nation in peace. The CIA and the U.S. National Endowment for Democracy largely funded her campaign, while the U.S. Republican and Democratic Party, principally the latter, provided political consultants. U.S. President George H.W. Bush also did everything he could to help her, frequently posing with in her in photos.

    Ortega and the FSLN were convinced they would win the election, but to the Nicaraguan people, a vote for the revolutionary Ortega appeared to be a vote for war and the draft, while a vote for Chamorro seemed to be a vote for peace and a return to civilian life. Exhausted by a decade of revolution and war, not surprisingly, the country chose the latter. Some 86 percent of the population voted and to the shock of the Sandinistas, Chamorro garnered 55 percent of the vote, while Ortega received 41 percent. Her coalition won 51 seats in the legislature, while the Sandinistas won 39 out of a total of 93.

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    Immediately upon her election Chamorro’s UNO coalition split into two parts: a right-wing led by her vice-president Vigil Godoy that wanted to return to the glory days of the Somoza era, and the moderate wing led by her son-in-law Antonio Lacayo, who simply wished to establish a modern capitalist state that could create the conditions for the making of profit and the accumulation of capital. With their electoral coalition collapsing, Chamorro and Lacayo realized that they could only govern with the cooperation of the FSLN.

    The FSLN, after all, held not only the largest disciplined block of votes in the National Assembly, but also commanded all of the mass organizations, most importantly the labor unions, which could paralyze Chamorro’s government. And, most significant of all, Humberto Ortega, brother of Daniel Ortega, headed the Sandinista Army.

    Lacayo and the Ortega brothers met and negotiated a transition pact that demobilized the Contras, 1) reduced the size of the Sandinista Army and made it a politically neutral, professional organization; 2) respected titles of land distributed to the people; and 3) promised no reprisals against public employees. At the same time, a secret deal was made. Antonio Lacayo, Daniel Ortega, and his brother Humberto Ortega became—in the words of former Sandinista leader Moïses Hassan—the “triumvirs,” the real rulers of Nicaragua during the Chamorro administration.

    The three men agreed that they would marginalize “the radicals” in both of their parties, the Somoza element in UNO and the radical, militant leftists in the FSLN, in order to create a center bloc that had a majority in the National Assembly. This was the Popular Front the Sandinistas had rejected twenty years before, but now with a vengeance. This was a kind of government of national unity formed by right and left. Ortega and the FSLN, intent on keeping as much political power as possible, declined to go into opposition and fight the right-wing government, but rather took responsibility for the government and its policies.

    The policies would be neoliberal. Nicaragua in 1990 owed $4 billion to the Soviet Union and about $7 billion to western nations. Working together, the triumvirs would make arrangements with the International Monetary Fund to deal with its debt, accepting a program of structural adjustments in exchange for approval for new loans. The banks and industries that had been nationalized by the Sandinistas would be privatized; property that had been expropriated from Nicaraguans who had gone abroad would be returned to them.

    Life for the working class deteriorated at once. Soldiers were demobilized; public employees were laid off, and unemployment mounted. When public employees struck, they were granted big wage gains, but inflation then wiped out those increases almost immediately. Free trade zones were reestablished, maquiladoras opened up, with a special tax regime to attract foreign investment, while maquiladora workers were discouraged from organizing unions or striking. Health care and some other social programs survived, if on reduced budgets, but the standard of living of working people declined drastically.

    In the last days before Chamorro took office, the FSLN government had passed a series of laws transferring nationalized lands, public buildings, and homes from the government to top Sandinista leaders. The ostensible justification for those laws was that the FSLN would protect social property from being seized by a right, and to a large extent that was what happened. But it was also the case that Sandinista leaders took advantage of the laws to acquire homes and other real estate and to enrich themselves. The laws were often referred to as the piñata, after the papier maché figures that children, breaking the effigy open and spilling the candy inside, then scramble to gather up and put in their pockets. Many Nicaraguans now viewed the Sandinistas as greedy.

    During the changeover from the Ortega to the Chamorro government, FSLN leaders also took over various programs and resources that they had managed, transforming them into non-governmental organizations. The new NGOs, some supported by funds from foreign governments, provided the Sandinistas with jobs, titles, incomes, cars and new careers. The wedge of privilege began to drive more deeply into Nicaraguan society and the divide between the FSLN leaders and the members grew.

    Faced with entirely new circumstances and demands for a voice from the party’s rank-and-file, in 1991, the FSLN held its first ever convention attended by 581 delegates, the majority of them democratically elected. While some delegates criticized the FSLN’s lack of democracy, and while the convention divided into two factions, there was no strong alternative leadership. Daniel Ortega managed to put himself at the center of the party and to hold on to power.

    With the Soviet Union having collapsed, and Cuba economically desperate, the convention voted to affiliate with the Socialist International, the historic organization of social democracy led by the European socialist parties. This development resembled the Eurocommunist movement of the 1970s and 1980s when the formerly Stalinist Communist parties of Western Europe began to transform themselves into social democratic parties. At about the same time, the social democratic parties in government managed capitalism by adopting neoliberal policies.

    While the 1991 convention represented the FSLN’s first experience with democracy in almost thirty years, it focused principally on questions of internal party questions and dealt with none of the actual political issues facing the party. The Sandinista members did not seriously discuss and debate the FSLN-UNO coalition, or the secret role of the Ortegas in cahoots with Lacayo (the triumvirs), or the fact that their party was jointly responsible for the government’s neoliberal policies.

    So despite the apparently democratic convention, the former comandantes of the National Directorate continued to control the party in a top-down fashion, in the way they had learned from the Communist PSN and the Cuban Communists decades before. Daniel Ortega was not solely responsible for the FSLN’s rightward movement; he had the support of the National Directorate, of many historic FSLN leaders, and the tacit support of the party’s rank-and-file. The argument was that at the end of Chamorro’s term, the FSLN would be elected to office again and return to the struggle for socialism. Trained in the Soviet and Cuban top-down organizational tradition, the ranks by and large followed their leaders loyally, though there were some important exceptions.

    During the years of the Chamorro administration, the difference that had surfaced at the 1991 convention would lead to a split at the top of the party. Novelist Sergio Ramírez, comandante Dora María Téllez, FSLN Barricada editor Carlos Fernando Chamorro, and priest-poet Ernesto Cardenal wrote a document, “Return to the Majorities” calling upon the FSLN to make a full transition to a European-style social democratic party. Daniel Ortega, Tomás Borge and other members of the Sandinista National Directorate wrote a rival document, misleading titled “The Democratic Left,” though in fact they defended their historic Soviet- and Cuban-inspired politics. The political divisions in the party were widening.

    In a struggle shortly afterwards over amendments to the Nicaraguan constitution, Ramírez led virtually the entire FSLN parliamentary delegation into opposition to Daniel Ortega. Thirty FSLN delegates left and created a new party, the Sandinista Renovation Movement (MRS), though the intellectuals and politicians of the MRS proved no match for the Sandinista organization and were later badly beatenin their bids for reelection to the National Assembly.

    Still, for the first time ever, Nicaragua had in the 1994-1997 period a democratic legislature, though the politics were a combination of conservative economic measures and democratic reforms. At the same time, in Nicaraguan society new independent NGOs and social movements appear, most importantly a dynamic new feminist movement and some activist environmental organizations. The economic situation also improved somewhat at the end of the Chamorro years, though about 75 percent of the population remained poor.

    The Somocistas Returns to Power

    Violeta Chamorro and Antonio Lacayo—working with Ortega and the FSLN—had aligned Nicaragua with the “Washington Consensus”; that is, with the neoliberal policies of the era, but they had not been arch-reactionaries, nor were they fundamentally corrupt. Worse was yet to come.

    From 1997 to 2007 Nicaragua would be led by two presidents, Arnoldo Alemán and Enrique Bolaños, who came out of the Somoza political milieu and who would combine profoundly right-wing politics with widespread corruption. But like Chamorro, in order to run the country, they too found that they had either to enter into partnership with Ortega and the Sandinistas or face political paralysis. The Sandinistas were not the principal instigators of the conservatism and corruption that flourished in those years, but they shared political power with the culprits.

    ImageArnoldo Aleman, known as El Gordo, the Fat Man, had lived briefly exile in Miami but then returned to Nicaragua to become leader of the somocista Liberal Constitutionalist Party (PLC). During Chamorro’s presidency he won election to the Managua city council, which then chose him to be mayor. Alemán encouraged public works like street paving, traffic circles, and fountains, and he promoted the development of gas stations, fast food restaurants, and shopping malls, all very popular with the public. Alemán had the Sandinistas’ revolutionary murals painted over and put up billboards proclaiming, “The Mayor gets things done.” People mostly seemed to agree.

    Backed by wealthy Nicaraguans at home and by those still living abroad, Alemán created the Liberal Alliance coalition and built a grassroots organization like the Sandinistas. Unlike the historic Liberal party, which was anti-clerical, Aléman talked religion and won the backing of Cardinal Obando y Bravo, the spiritual leader of the rightwing, who gave a sermon referring to Ortega as a snake. Running on the slogan “War against unemployment and poverty,” Alemán traveled around the country distributing t-shirts and caps bearing his name. An attempt on Alemán’s life, presumed by the public to have been carried out by the Sandinistas, won him the sympathy of some voters.

    Daniel Ortega was challenged for the FSLN’s party nomination by comandante Vilma Nuñez, one of the few women comandantes and a leader of the democratic dissidents still within the party. Ortega easily defeated her democratic and feminist challenge, becoming the party’s nominee for the third time.

    For this campaign he transformed himself completely, dressing in civilian clothes, appearing as a respectable family man with his wife Rosario Murillo and their children. He talked about the United States as Nicaragua’s “great neighbor,” not its implacable enemy. Ortega advocated a politics of “Neither extreme right nor extreme left” and called for a “United Front.” While accepting neoliberal economic realities, Ortega continued to advocate social programs for working people and the poor. Nevertheless, Alemán won by a landslide, defeating Ortega 51 percent to 38 percent while his Liberal party took 42 of the 93 seats in the National Assembly.

    Alemán’s political practice in power was simple: use the public treasury to enrich himself and his Liberal Alliance allies, understanding that every government contract for infrastructure or services provided opportunities for graft. Everything, even a disaster, was an opportunity for larceny. Hurricane Mitch of 1998 led to massive destruction in Nicaragua and then to considerable economic aid from Europe and the United States, which created even more opportunities for embezzlement. When Comptroller General Agustín Jarquín discovered and revealed many of Alemán’s swindles, the president had him jailed, leading to protest demonstrations. The corruption scandal raised the possibility of prison for Alemán

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    By 1999, Aléman was in serious trouble—but so was Daniel Ortega. Ortega’s step-daughter Zoilamérica Nervaez, 30-year old FSLN member and sociologist, filed detailed charges her step-father, first in a Nicaraguan court and then in the Inter-American Court, accusing Ortega of having sexually molested her since she was 11 years old. Both Alemán and Ortega feared being hauled into court, tried, and possibly convicted and imprisoned, almost surely putting an end to their political careers.

    Their common fear of prosecution led them to forge the Pact of 1999. The FSLN and PLC leaders agreed to revise the Constitution and the Electoral Law, and to carve up the government so as to equally distribute positions in the Supreme Court, the Electoral Council, the Controller, the Attorney General’s Office, and the Superintendent of Banks to both parties.

    Key to the deal was that Aléman like Ortega would, without an election, become a member of the National Assembly, so that both men would enjoy legislative immunity and could not be brought into court. The number of votes needed to overturn legislative immunity was increased to make it virtually impossible. Thus Ortega and the FSLN now not only participated in a bourgeois political system, but in the most undemocratic and corrupt version of such parliamentary politics.

    His reputation destroyed by the revelations of his administration’s corruption, Aléman had no chance as an incumbent candidate, and so he chose as his party’s standard bearer for the 2002 election his vice-president Enrique Bolaños Geyer whom Alemán thought he could control. Bolaños was a cotton farmer, director of the High Council of Private Enterprise, and a member of the somocista PLC. He would prove, however, to be more independent that Alemán expected.

    Humberto Ortega suggested that Daniel Ortega sit out the 2002 election so that he would appear to be more democratic, but the ever-ambitious Daniel went ahead with his fourth national presidential campaign, once again in civilian clothes, with his wife beside him, now talking social democracy and religion. Despite Ortega’s new spiritual conversion, Bolaños won by 56 to 43 percent. While Bolaños became the president, Aléman and Ortega together controlled the National Assembly.

    Bolaños quickly went to war with Aléman. His Attorney General indicted Alemán for embezzling $96.7 million and using his government credit card to pay for $1.8 million in personal bills: jewels, carpets, hotels in Bali, Paris nightclubs. Aléman responded by revealing that while serving as his vice-president, Bolaños had received from the National Democratic Front—that is, from the Contras—some $7,000 per month in salary and $40,100 per month in expenses, that is $564,000 a year, ostensibly to train election watchers.

    Bolaños, unfazed by those revelations, had Aléman arrested, tried, and convicted of corruption, embezzlement, and money laundering. Alemán should have spent years in prison, but, ostensibly because he was ill, the court—controlled by Ortega—allowed him to serve his sentence at first at home and later anywhere in the country he liked. At the same time Ortega and Aléman renewed their pact in 2004, making it virtually impossible for Bolaños, who had no party and little parliamentary support, to govern.

    While the government was paralyzed by the feud between Bolaños and Aléman, the Nicaraguan capitalist class continued the process of reconstituting itself that had begun under Chamorro. Large banks—Grupo Proamérica, Bancentro (Lafise); Grupo BAC, Grupo Pellas, and Grupo Uno, which were owned by the McGregor, Montealegre, Pellas and other extremely rich families—dominated Nicaraguan finances. And large landlords grew wealthy in agriculture. Foreign buyers and domestic investors in the maquiladoras prospered. Most Nicaraguans, however, lived in poverty as small farmers, agricultural day laborers, industrial workers or maquiladora laborers. Poverty and hunger remained widespread.

    Throughout the period from 1990 to 2006, the Sandinistas entered into political pacts first with Chamorro and then with Aléman—utterly undemocratic political arrangements, corrupt and conservative. Still Ortega and the FSLN continued to use a Marxist-Leninist (that is, Stalinist) discourse within the party while in society they adopted a populist language, promising to improve the lives of the people. On the international stage, Ortega attended conferences and meetings with Fidel Castro and Hugo Chavez, thus identifying himself and the FSLN with the far left of the Latin American pink tide.

    “Left” politics of the Soviet-Cuban variety, once sincerely held but now opportunistically deployed, served as a political cover for Ortega and the FSLN, and as an illusory motivation for longtime Sandinista militants. “Marxist-Leninist” politics were not irrelevant, but were absolutely essential to Ortega’s project, a project for which he was not solely responsible, but to which much of the historic leadership of the party and many militants contributed.

    The 2006 Election—Ortega to Power

    In 2004 Ortega called a quite irregular meeting of FSLN leaders and militants at which he announced that he would be the FSLN candidate. Victor Tinoco, a longtime Sandinista leader and former FSLN Minister of Foreign Affairs, who later joined the MRS, wrote in the Jesuit magazine Envío:

    Nearly two years before the 2006 elections, in a final anti-democratic spasm, Daniel Ortega announced the suspension of the FSLN’s primary elections and [declared] that he would be the sole candidate. He made this announcement in Matagalpa, with the “support” and “approval” of some 400 previously selected people, 95% of whom are party or municipal workers, and all of whom have salaries of $2,000-$3,000 a month and are not going to dare to dissent and risk their personal economic prospects. In this way, Daniel Ortega and 400 others decided that the other 600,000 Sandinistas do not have the right to an opinion or to elect their chosen candidate.[4]

    The Movement for Sandinista Renovation (MRS) and the Christian Alternative put forward as their candidate the former FSLN leader Henry Lewites. Lewites, who was quite popular and whose campaign began very well, died of a heart attack in July 2006. His running mate Carlos Mejía Godoy, the enormously popular singer, carried on, but the campaign had lost its momentum and fizzled out.

    Split by the Bolaños-Aléman feud, there were two rival Liberal Party candidates. Eduardo Montealegre, a former banker who had held cabinet positions in both the Aléman and Bolaños governments, organized the Nicaraguan Liberal Alliance (later the Independent Liberal Party). George W. Bush did everything possible to support Montealegre, sending several national Republican figures, such as Jeanne Kirkpatrick and Otto Reich, both of whom had organized U.S. support for the Contras, to assist him, as well as providing millions of dollars for his campaign. Aléman’s wing of the Liberal Party put forward José Rizo, lawyer, businessman, and politician, but one with fewer resources. Alemán’s backing of Rizo’s candidacy served the interests of his partner Ortega.

    Ortega’s campaign in 2006 was more conservative and more religious than any he had run so far. All was sweetness and light. For the 2006 campaign, the Sandinistas got rid of their revolutionary red and black flags and replaced them with pink and turquoise regalia and bunting. The campaign theme song was a Spanish language version of John Lennon’s “Give Peace a Chance.” Ortega and his wife Rosario Murillo, married for more than twenty years, had a Catholic wedding performed by Cardinal Miguel Obando y Bravo. Ortega made a public “confession” to Obando for the Sandinistas’ sins during the Revolution, and in return Obando gave Catholics permission to vote for Ortega.

    As Wikileaks has revealed, U.S. Ambassador Paul A. Trivelli informed Secretary of State Condolezza Rice that rumor had it that Ortega had blackmailed Obando with the threat that he would reveal that the Cardinal had had children with his secretary. One of those children was Roberto Rivas, who could also be blackmailed; he would become the future head of the Supreme Electoral Council. To make good on his side of the bargain with Obando, Ortega led the FSLN representatives in a 52-0 vote to make all abortions illegal, without previous exceptions for rape, malformation of the fetus, or risk to the life or health of the mother.

    With the Church behind him, Ortega also wanted to reassure the domestic and international capitalist class that the Sandinista government was no threat. So Ortega chose as his running mate Jaime Morales Carazo, banker and former Contra, a choice that nauseated many Sandinistas. He met with foreign investors, assuring them that their investments in Nicaragua would be safe, saying, “Confiscations are not even being considered.” Ortega did not reject the Central American Free Trade Agreement, but rather called for its renegotiation. Yet, by the same token, Ortega had no problem in May of 2006 attending the Third Alba Summit in Havana, joining Fidel Castro, Hugo Chavez, and newly elected Evo Morales. 

    When the votes were counted, Ortega had received 38 percent—just enough to be elected without a second ballot—Montealegre, 28 percent, and Jose Rizo, 7 percent, while MRS candidate Edmundo Jarquín won just 6 percent. Finally, after three unsuccessful presidential campaigns, Ortega had won the presidency, returning to the office he first occupied in 1984. Then, he had been a Marxist-Leninist revolutionary who admired Cuba, the Soviet Union, and the Communist camp. Now he was…well, what was he now?

    Ortega began his presidency by announcing that he would share power equally with his wife Rosario Murillo, saying that people want 50 percent women in the government, so he was giving her half of the presidency. He and Rosario chose a cabinet made up of a congeries of veteran Sandinistas, businessmen, one self-described anarchist, and a New Age reflexologist (whose patients were Daniel and Rosario), as well as several not-very-political professionals. While there were several women, none were feminists in this government that had defined itself as anti-abortion. Ortega and Murillo appointed Cardinal Obando y Bravo to head up the Commission of Verification, Peace, Reconciliation and Justice. Obando also became Ortega’s personal spiritual advisor,

    Early in his presidency, Ortega traveled to Venezuela to meet with Chávez and returned to tell a May Day workers meeting that Venezuelan oil money being delivered through the Latin American Bolivarian Alliance (ALBA) would soon lift Nicaragua out of poverty. Over the next five years Chávez sent Ortega over $2.2 billion in loans and oil credits. These funds went to Albanisa, a private company, and from there principally to poverty programs aimed at providing housing, ending hunger, assisting farmers, and providing scholarships to low-income students.

    Daniel Ortega, unsupervised by either the FSLN or the Nicaraguan government, personally controlled these Venezuelan funds—as much as $200 million per month—which he could use at his discretion: to suborn legislators, to buy the support of NGOs, or to win over church officials. Most famously he gave public employees a $30 per month bonus “a gift of thanks from comandante Ortega.”

    At the same time, Ortega worked with the IMF and the World Bank to have some of the country’s more than $1 billion in debts to them cancelled in return for adopting neoliberal structural reforms. With the United States, Ortega arranged a Millennium Challenge Account $175 million to combat poverty in certain regions. Ortega also cooperated with the U.S. Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA) that provided equipment to the Nicaraguan police. While he railed against U.S. imperialism, year after year he accepted anywhere between $25 and $50 million dollars from the American government.

    Ortega and Murillo worked to rebuild and reorganize the FSLN. After all, Nicaragua was an altogether different country than it had been when the revolution took place. The population had doubled from 2.4 to more than 5 million inhabitants. Those born the year of “The Triumph” of 1979 were now 25 years old and had had no experience of the revolutionary struggle whatsoever and had grown up under the right-wing Chamorro, Aléman, and Bolaños governments.

    Once a party of Marxist-Leninist cadres, the FSLN had become an electoral party that handed out membership cards to hundreds of thousands of people, many of whom had only the vaguest idea of what party membership meant. Yet the party was still led by a handful of Sandinista leaders, the Ortega brothers, Bayardo Arce, and a few others who had been trained in Soviet and Cuban political theory and organizational methods. Now that training and their experience was used to maintain political power in a liberal capitalist state that implemented austerity policies accompanied by social welfare programs.

    Rosario Murillo undertook to replace the largely defunct Sandinista Defense Committees (CSSs) with the new Citizens Power Councils (CPCs), claiming to have organized thousands of them with nearly one million members. The CPCs became vehicle to channel aid, scholarships, and, wrote Envío, “other vote-buying goodies.”

    At the same time Murillo was largely responsible for creating a cult of personality around Daniel Ortega, giant portraits of whom were erected in Managua. Ortega and Murillo, firmly allied with the Catholic Church, led the FSLN in defining itself in the public mind as an anti-feminist organization. Murillo spoke and wrote pamphlets in which she labeled women who worked for abortion rights as upper-class agents of imperialism.  

    The FSLN faced challenges—from the independent feminist movement that fought for abortion rights; occasionally from workers’ strikes, such as those of the truck, bus, and taxi drivers strikes of 2008; and from the political opposition left, right, and center which demanded genuine democratic elections. But none of these movements had the leadership, social weight, or strategy to challenge the FSLN successfully.

    A Second Consecutive Term…and a Third

    Ortega, having finally returned to the presidency after more than twenty years, was not about to give it up. The problem was that the Nicaraguan Constitution prohibited anyone from holding the presidency for a consecutive term or for more than two terms, doubly disqualifying Ortega from running for office. Unable to pass a constitutional change through the legislature, in 2009 Ortega reorganized the Supreme Court and had it overturn the constitutional language, making him eligible to run. As the 2012 election approached Ortega also began to buy up TV and radio stations, the country’s principal source of news and information, installing his children as the managers.

    The Liberals, divided amongst themselves and unable to agree on a candidate, found themselves faced with a fait accompli when Fabio Gadea Mantillo threw his hat in the ring. He was an unlikely candidate. A 79-year old pioneer in radio broadcasting and a famous and beloved radio storyteller who held extremely reactionary views on both economic and social issues, Gadea succeeded in winning the Liberal nomination.

    Gadea, backed by Montealegre’s wing of the Liberal Party, held rallies of tens of thousands and appeared to have a real chance of winning the election. In the end, however, Ortega was proclaimed the winner with 62 percent of the vote, while Gadea received 31 percent and Arnold Aléman, the other Liberal candidate got 6 percent. European observers suggested that the victory could be attributed to Roberto Rivas, head of the Supreme Electoral Council, who had overseen an utterly fraudulent election.

    Contemporary Capitalist Nicaragua

    Under Ortega, Nicaragua has become a typical capitalist country with an authoritarian populist political regime. The Nicaraguan government works to promote foreign and domestic investment and to insure that it is profitable. Daniel Ortega, for example, has formed a political and economic alliance with Carlos Pellas, one of the wealthiest men in the country. Nicaragua typically receives nearly $1 billion in foreign direct investment each year in a variety of sectors such as mining, communications, and maquiladoras, the investment coming mainly from countries like Venezuela, Panama, the United States, Spain, and Mexico.

    The Nicaraguan capitalist class, some of which had stayed in the country during the revolution and some of which had gone into exile in Miami, other Central American nations, or the Caribbean, returned wealthier and better-connected internationally than ever before. Some of the Sandinistas who enriched themselves with the piñata became very junior partners in the capitalist world, though most remained socially unacceptable there.

    Today about a dozen families who run the nation’s largest banks and control its most import industries today control Nicaragua’s economy. Each of the dozen wealthiest families controls financial institutions or companies with earnings of about $1 billion. In addition, according to banker and scholar Francisco J. Mayorga, the country has another 1,500 families in the millionaire range, and beyond them a stunted middle class of small merchants and professionals who are not very well-off. Teachers, for example, earn about $200 per month.

    Most Nicaraguans remain farmers or factory workers who earn low wages, and many of them live in poverty. Among those low-wage workers are thousands in the multi-billion dollar maquiladora sector that produces for companies such as the Gap, Levi’s Target, Walmart and JC Penny. Unions have complained that they have difficulty organizing, negotiating contracts, and face unfair treatment. Unable to find decent work and wages in Nicaragua, about one million workers migrate to work abroad in Central America or the United States, and many stay there. Such is Daniel Ortega’s Nicaragua.

    Conclusion

    The argument has been made in several recent articles that criticism of the Nicaraguan government is either a product of imperialism or benefits imperialism. These assertions are belied by the fact that the many of the most incisive critiques of the FSLN and the Nicaraguan government have been made over the years by former comandantes who argue that the FSLN had become authoritarian and abandoned the struggle for socialism. (Their words can be found in many issues of the Jesuit Envío magazine published from 1981 to today as well as in a number of Sandinista memoirs.)

    Others are willing to criticize Daniel Ortega and the FSLN of today for betraying the Nicaraguan Revolution, but they deny that the left has any responsibility for what happened. In fact, at the root of the degeneration of Ortega and the leadership of the FSLN were the Stalinist politics in which they had been trained by the Communist PSN in the 1950s as well as the Cuban version of Communism that they later adopted. While they rejected the Soviet Union’s Popular Front politics based on building a reformist electoral party and trade unions, they never questioned the nature of the Soviet Union or the Communist Party model of organization.

    The force of U.S. imperialism was enormous throughout the original Sandinista period. The U.S.-backed Contra War and the embargo, followed by the U.S. support for rightwing candidates, had a tremendous negative impact on the Nicaraguan Revolution. U.S. imperialism was the principal external force working to drive Nicaragua to the right. Still, the Sandinistas themselves must also take responsibility for the political choices the made within those highly unfavorable circumstances. Their Soviet-Cuban politics meant that democracy had no central role in the Sandinstas’ conception of socialism. The idea that the working class and the farmers should have a voice and vote in deciding their own fate was simply beyond the ken of the Sandinistas.

    Ortega and the FSLN comandantes believed that they were the leaders of the vanguard of the working class and that they knew what was best for the working people of Nicaragua. At the beginning, they sincerely believed that they would create an egalitarian society, uplifting the workers and farmers, but they never believed that those workers and farmers should actually control the party, the government, the society, or their workplaces. While Ortega and the FSLN leadership gradually gave up on their condescending version of the socialist ideal and became simply ordinary politicians in a capitalist state and society they continued to see themselves as the nation’s necessary leaders.

    Today in Nicaragua there still exist intellectuals who speak out and criticize the government from the left. And feminists continue to organize against domestic abuse and for abortion rights. Workers organize and fight for a living wage. And farmers and environmentalists march together to oppose Ortega’s transoceanic canal project. Perhaps these movements can coalesce one day into a new political movement for a democratic socialism to be constructed from below by the Nicaraguan people themselves.

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    *Dan La Botz is the author of What Went Wrong? The Nicaraguan Revolution: A Marxist Analysis, now available in Haymarket Books paperback. He is also an editor of New Politics: A Journal of Socialist Thought.

    Notes:

    [1] Envío Team, “No Bridge Over These Troubled Waters,” No. 429, July 2016.

    [2] Chuck Kaufman, “Political Turmoil on the Right Gives a Pretext for the US to Question Upcoming Election” Nicanotes, Alliance for Global Justice, email, August 3,

    2016.

    [3] UN World Food Programme, Republic of Nicaragua, at: https://www.wfp.org/countries/nicaragua

     

  • Some Reflections on #MeToo

    Image#MeToo has seen countless people coming forward with experiences of sexual violence and harassment and has become central to conversations around gendered violence.

    Understanding gendered violence is key to understanding women’s oppression more broadly and #MeToo has largely centred around uncovering the violence of men in positions of power. Of course this doesn’t mean that sexual violence is solely perpetrated by men against women; the way in which people are made vulnerable to gendered violence is not monolithic. I won’t pretend to be able to do justice to all of these subtleties in a short article. My focus will be on the need to understand men’s violence against women as a form of gendered power and as part of women’s oppression, to be able to extract lessons from the #MeToo moment to aid our political practice around women’s liberation.

    Many approaches have, at least implicitly, tended to treat #MeToo as a “campaign”. There are campaigns that are and have taken place under the #MeToo umbrella, but actually what we have seen is a much more loosely defined, and sometimes aimless, outpouring of experiences of harassment and violence. It was after the stories about Harvey Weinstein broke that the MeToo hashtag went viral. Alyssa Milano, a Hollywood actress that had worked closely with Rose McGowan, one of Weinstein’s victims, tweeted: “If all the women who have been sexually harassed or assaulted wrote ‘Me too.’ as a status, we might give people a sense of the magnitude of the problem.” It went viral in October 2017, and represented a major phenomenon for several months. The response has varied from women posting on their individual social media profiles, some detailing their stories and some simply using the hashtag, to attempted campaigns to uncover the scale and severity of the problem. We have seen numerous revelations in the media about widespread abuse in the workplace, touching almost every sector, as well as an absolutely unprecedented amount of personal testimonies from women on social media and disclosures of experiences of abuse to media outlets.

    One of the primary responses to the revelations about Weinstein took the form of an open letter from actresses and other women working in the entertainment industry demanding an end to workplace harassment, intimidation and violence. At the Golden Globes awards actresses wore black in “a silent protest”, and both men and women were encouraged to wear pins saying “Time’s Up” – the name of the campaign spearheaded by women in Hollywood. There have been other campaigns outside of Hollywood. In Norway and Sweden women in different trades unions collected #MeToo stories and used them in anonymised form in open letters detailing concrete demands for change in their industries. This format meant that anonymised stories were “everyone’s” stories, and were signed by often hundreds of women who worked in each sector. In this way these actions deployed incredibly personal and private experiences to do something politically. Other examples have included trade union campaigns against sexual harassment in specific contexts. Both Unite and a number of Trade Unions across Scandinavia were simultaneously running a campaign called “Not on the Menu” against harassment of waitresses and other workers in the hospitality industry.

    These inventive and inspiring initiatives represent some of the clearer avenues for tackling sexual violence in society, but outside of this context there are a lot of limitations. There is often a lack of clarity as to who demands are directed at, especially when they are made in the absence of a previously existing political structure like a trade union and in the absence of a more developed political or theoretical position on the connection between harassment, sexual violence and women’s oppression. The aforementioned Golden Globes awards is a very good example of the limitations of the more mainstream campaigns, since people wearing the Time’s Up badges in a “show of solidarity” with the Weinstein’s victims included several men who are known perpetrators of domestic violence or sexual assault. Several of the women victimised by Weinstein were not even invited to the ceremony, nor were they consulted about the open letter or the Time’s Up campaign more generally. In that sense, the ceremony can be seen as a form of containment of the revelations, a coordinated exercise in disciplining those who had spoken up and containing the political implications. The subtext is that there are “monsters” who are kept outside, but there are normal, “good” men that are kept inside, despite it being public knowledge that these men are also perpetrators. Likewise, whilst there was a “silent protest” by women in Hollywood, there is a cruel irony in the fact that silence has been the issue all along, and that so many of the women who had spoken out are still blacklisted, still not able to be heard, and actually not even consulted in the campaigns supposedly inspired by their courage.

    Outside of Hollywood, we are grappling with further questions; what is the impact of a tidal wave of women speaking up about their experiences, especially in a context where for many, the effect can be retraumatising, with limited avenues for receiving appropriate trauma-support? What is the impact of a mainstream acknowledgement, and maybe even co-option, of certain ideas or ways of analysing sexualised violence? What does it mean for how we organise politically? How do we think about integrating an understanding of widespread trauma amongst those we organise with, and what does it mean for how we think about workplace organising that this is the background? Of course, it is important to bear in mind that none of this is new. The #MeToo “moment” has not happened because women have suddenly begun experiencing higher levels of sexual violence and harassment. It is also not the case that women have not previously spoken up about the harassment they have experienced. A great deal of feminist activism for decades has centered around consciousness-raising, campaigns against domestic violence and street harassment, setting up rape and domestic violence shelters, and developing a shared political identity on the basis of living with the constant threat of violence from men; at home, on the streets and in our workplaces. What this particular moment has demonstrated is a new ability to uncover the reality of sexual and other forms of violence in the mainstream. This partly explains the uncoordinated and embryonic nature of a lot of the activity, and cautions us to remember that this is not really “a campaign”. The #MeToo moment paradoxically reflects how far the feminist or women’s liberation movement has pushed public debate at the same time as demonstrating the relative weakness of the movement, given that so many of the attempts at dealing with it are scattered and lack clarity.

    A few months ago revelations broke over endemic sexual harassment at the all-male Presidents Club charity fundraising dinners, where waitresses reported that they were repeatedly groped, flashed and assaulted by guests. This relates very closely to the campaigns mentioned above run by trade-unions to emphasise that waitresses are ‘not on the menu’. The dynamic this points to, and the idea implicit in the affective labour performed by service staff; that customers are entitled to their time and attention; obviously relates to broader issues of male entitlement and how this plays into issues of domestic violence and sexual assault. It’s not hard to see how these scenarios both sit on a spectrum; where, because in certain contexts such as hospitality work customers feel entitled to the attention of workers (especially women), this also reinforces the entitlement that men feel in environments of greater intimacy due to their socialisation. There’s a certain kind of capitalist logic that makes this inevitable – the stark inequality in power between workers and management for example, or the precarity of women workers in the hospitality sector and the way this forces workers to stay in uncomfortable or violent situations. It’s easy to buy into the idea that powerful and charismatic leaders, who ruffle feathers and don’t care for niceties, are necessary to drive the business, and that they should be followed and obeyed by their staff. As we’ve seen, though, trade unions have been able to use the #MeToo moment to challenge these assumptions and this fatalism in inventive and inspiring ways.

    On the Left we already have a well established cultural understanding of how workers’ power can be used to resist workplace harassment, though #MeToo has undoubtedly stimulated greater concern for seeing sexual harassment as a particular dynamic in the workplace. What is less easy to answer is how we deal with sexual violence and harassment which occurs outside these quite formal settings. How we build the means and institutions for holding perpetrators accountable, a task which is especially complicated by the fact that many of them will also be friends and comrades? These are questions which we urgently need to develop solutions to, but which may also only be possible alongside a vastly strengthened feminist movement which can provide institutional and political support to survivors and victims of harassment, and provide the political influence to hold their perpetrators accountable. In that sense it is crucial not to buy into the very liberal impulse to think that it is sufficient to simply “speak up about it”; that if you just fight the stigma or empower women to speak about their experiences that will, in and of itself, lead to change. What we see most commonly is that speaking up actually does not help create change of its own accord, and it often re-victimises the person who has chosen to do so. There has been a lot of discussion about Save the Children and the serial harassment perpetrated primarily by Brendan Cox and Justin Forsyth, chief strategist and chief executive respectively. It’s tempting to ask why we are only talking about this years after the fact, after both men had already left the organisation and walked into equally high-paying and prestigious jobs in other charities – why didn’t anyone speak up before? But the truth is people (women) did speak up before – and nothing was done, the men were allowed to leave their roles quietly. The Guardian and other liberal news outlets refused to even report on the stories, despite having been approached multiple times, and continued to publish and promote the men in question.

    While we should caution against a naive feel-good narrative that speaking out about your experiences will in and of itself create change, what we have seen with the #MeToo moment is something much more inspiring. The way stories have been shared, even on people’s personal social media profiles, has often been either infused with, or very explicitly about, solidarity. Whilst the liberal mainstream, riven with the forces which benefit from women’s silence, will attempt to portray this as just another example of personal ‘empowerment’, we can see the glimmers and the potential for something much more powerful.

    Originally posted at rs21.

  • Are We on the Eve of Another Nicaraguan Revolution?

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    The government of former revolutionary and Nicaraguan president Daniel Ortega has in the last few days killed at least 24 protestors who were demonstrating against sudden and drastic alterations in a new pension law, changes that would have adversely affected the incomes and lives of tens of thousands. Some 200 were arrested and 20 are missing, according to the National Human Rights Commission. Other protestors, many of them university students, were beaten by the police or by goons armed with pipes sent by President Ortega’s party, the Sandinista Front for the Liberation of Nicaragua (FSLN).

    Ortega’s administration also shut down the Noticias news channel and Channel 12 to prevent both coverage of the events and criticism of his government. Sandinista thugs beat reporters and destroyed TV video cameras as well. Angel Gahona, a journalist with the show “Onda Local” on Facebook Live, was reporting on the protests when was shot and killed in the midst of his broadcast. His murder, the censorship and the repression led in turn to more protests and to looting in Managua markets.

    Students have called for a strike on all college campuses and remarkably farmers have called for a strike until the students' demands are met. Large protest marches of thousands have taken place in Managua and other cities. U.S. diplomats have been ordered to leave the country as soon as possible. The Catholic Cardenal Leopoldo Brenes is attempting to set up a meeting between the National Council of Businesspeople (COSEP) and the Ortega government. While it it too soon to say what will happen, the current upheaval has all the earmarks of a revolutionary movement—though so far without a leadership.

    Ortega’s pension law follows the same neoliberal logic as that of other similar legislation in countries around the world; that is, the imposition of austerity on the working class and the poor. The new law would have increased both employer and worker contributions while at the same time lowering overall benefits. Nicaragua, with a population of six million, is one of Latin America’s poorest countries, with over a third of the country living in poverty and half in rural areas in extreme poverty. There the average income is about $2.00 per day.

    The protests led Ortega to announce that he is cancelling the pension reform law and will negotiate, but it is not clear with whom he will negotiate or whether or not he is prepared to make meaningful concessions. Some opponents, raising the slogan “We are not afraid,” are demanding that Ortega, now in his third consecutive term as president (his fourth term altogether), must resign.

    What Went Wrong?

    How did a political party and a government born in a popular revolution in 1979 go so wrong? And wrong in so many ways? For, while this is the worst repression in post-revolutionary Nicaraguan history, it is not unique. Since 2014 farmers and environmentalists have demonstrated against Ortega’s plans for a Chinese-financed inter-oceanic canal across Nicaragua, and police have frequently used violence against those protestors. The government, which is allied with the Catholic Church, has also harassed the feminist movement that seeks to overturn the country’s laws against abortion.

    Image

    Huge billboards throughout Managua, bear smiling portraits of Ortega and his wife and virtual co-president Rosario Murillo, proclaiming, “Cristiana, Socialista, Solidaria!” But the regime would better be described as authoritarian, pro-business, and anti-worker. The Ortega Sandinista government is a product of both the ideology that inspired its revolutionary past and of the deals that constituted its practice since 1990. As I argue in my book What Went Wrong? The Nicraguan Revolution: A Marxist Analysis, that the central problem is that the Sandinistas have never held democracy as a core value, neither in their revolutionary past nor in their post-revolutionary and quite reactionary present.

    Yet at one time the Sandinistas had inspired the left around the world. From 1936 to 1979 Nicaragua was run by the Somoza family, a brutal dynastic dictatorship, supported by the United States, that in alliances with sections of both the Liberal and Conservative parties used the state to protect the landlords, to modernize the economy, and to repress its opponents. The Sandinistas, founded in 1961 by a small group of former Stalinist Communists (members of the Nicaraguan Socialist Party) who had become admirers of Fidel Castro and Ernesto “Che” Guevara, adopted a guerrilla strategy.

    After almost fifteen years operating as tiny guerrilla bands in the mountains as well as the organizers of some spectacular kidnappings and killings of government officials, the Sandinista’s revolutionary movement stalled. The guerrilla war was a failure. What was to be done?

    The frustrated Sandinista leaders divided into three rival factions, one led by Daniel Ortega and writer Sergio Ramírez, called the “Third Tendency,” which eventually won out, called for a new strategy based on a moderate program, an alliance with the progressive bourgeoisie, support from other Latin American governments, and an armed military invasion from Costa Rica combined with a national uprising. Bolstered by thousands of Latin American foreign fighters, the Sandinistas took power in 1979.

    Inspired by el triunfo, thousands of foreigners flocked, myself among them, traveled to Nicaragua to learn or to help, some stayed for days or weeks, others for years or even decades. The revolution would turn out to be different than they imagined.

    In Power and at War

    While there was briefly an ostensibly coalition government, in fact the Sandinistas dominated the country from day one of the revolution, their coalition partners gradually resigning. The revolution was founded on deception. In a post-revolution secret three-day meeting, the Sandinsta directorate, the collective leadership, proclaimed that the party would be Marxist-Leninist, would establish "the dictatorship of the proletariat," and would become part of the Communist camp with the Soviet Union, the Eastern Bloc, and Cuba. Ortega and other FSLN leaders, however, told the Nicaraguan people and the world that they would establish a democratic government, a mixed economy, and a non-aligned foreign policy.

    Unconcerned with democracy or honesty but deeply committed to social equality, the Sandinistas carried out remarkable national literacy and health campaigns. The FSLN created a series of party-led mass organization of workers, women, and youth through which it could both mobilize and constrain the population. And with the aid of the Soviet Union and Cuba, it created a new state, an army and a police force. Meanwhile, President Ronald Reagan decided he would destroy the revolution.

    The U.S. State Department and the Central Intelligence Agency took responsibility to organize and to arm former Somocistas and new opponents into the Contras, counter-revolutionaries. But the FSLN’s political mistakes also contributed to the growth of the Contras. The FSLN’s refusal to distribute land to the peasants and its heavy-handed treatment of the indigenous population on the Caribbean Coast created a large-scale rural opposition and led to what became a genuine civil war. Unable to rely on a volunteer army, the Sandinistas turned to conscription, and lost more support, some opponent going over to the Contras.

    After a decade of war, though not defeated, the population was exhausted and demoralized. Daniel Ortega, who had been elected president in the first post-revolutionary elections in 1985, was challenged in 1990 by Violeta Chamorro, widow of a popular newspaper publisher who had been assassinated by Somoza. With a broad opposition from Communists to the far right, but principally running against the war with lots of help from the United States, Chamorro won and became president.

    Daniel Ortaga Turns to Politics, the Church, and Business

    Chamorro’s coalition fell apart immediately after her election, while the Nicaraguan National Assembly was dominated by her opponent Ortega’s FSLN. Antonio Lacayo, the power behind Chamorro’s throne, secretly entered into a relationship with Ortega, still head of the FSLN, and his brother Humberto Ortega, and together the triumvirs ran Nicaragua. Ortega and the FSLN transferred real estate and other wealth from the government to themselves—the famous piñata—for sake keeping the explained at the beginning. And began to enter into relationships with former Somoza figures and the old landlord class. Ortega and his girlfriend, Rosario, married in the Catholic Church, and proclaimed themselves believers.

    Ortega’s complicated involvement in corrupt politics and crooked business deals, which I have discussed at greater length elsewhere, is too complicated to go into here, but suffice it to say that through such machinations he continued to be a king-maker and king-breaker from 1996 to 2006 under presidents Arnoldo Alemán and Enrique Bolaños. During those years Ortega and Murillo took absolute control of the FSLN and transformed it into a political machine, led by old Sandinista cadres and filled with a post-revolutionary rank and file, apolitical but willing to get out the vote for cap and a t-shirt, for a handout and a few meals.

    Today Ortega controls not only the presidency, but also the National Assembly, and the Supreme Court. Like a monarch—and like Donald Trump—he has bestowed great power on his wife and his children. 

    Ortega has had a lot of "left cover" as he has become a thoroughly reactionary dictator. Over the last couple of decades, Ortega can be found in smiling photographs with Fidel and Raúl Castro in Cuba, or alongside Evo Morales of Bolivia or Hugo Chávez of Venezuela. ALBA (Alianza Bolivariana para los Pueblos de Nuestra Améric), a financial alliance created by Castro and Chávez, provided millions of dollars to Nicaragua, money personally controlled by Ortega. The Foro de São Paulo, the regular congress of Latin America’s leftwing political parties, which I attended in the summer of 2016, treats the Sandinistas as if they were a socialist government. And in the United States the Alliance for Global Justice, which publishes NicaNotes, has until now been uncritical of the Sandinista government. It’s time the left quit providing covering for a dictator.

    Ortega has attributed his country's problems to unidentified political enemies. At the moment the Cuban government argues that the upheaval in Nicaragua is an attempt at regime change by the Nicaraguan business class and the U.S. government.

    Today Ortega and his friends and family own a variety of businesses, control most of the country’s television stations, and cut deals with the old bourgeoisie. Nicaraguan workers in maquiladoras or in agriculture have no real unions to defend them, and resistance can lead to being fired. Hundreds of thousands of Nicaraguans have had to go abroad to find employment in other Latin American nations and in the United States. For years the country’s intellectuals have compared Ortega to the Somozas. Now the people are doing so as well.

    When I finished my book What Went Wrong? in 2016, I speculated about the prospects of Nicaragua’s small and beleaguered opposition movement. I predicted that one day a new opposition would arise to challenge Ortega’s corrupt regime. I had not expected the opposition to rise as powerfully and as quickly as it has. But now Nicaragua has put the dictator on notice. Nothing frightens a dictator more than their slogan: “We are not afraid."

    *Dan La Botz is a co-editor of New Politics.