Two, three, many Lenins

There are over a hundred Lenins a hundred years after he died in this very useful book.

The book, edited by Hjalmar Jorge Joffre-Eichorn and Patrick Anderson, has an unsettling title “Lenin: The Heritage We (Don’t) Renounce,” which basically boils down to an affirmation of Lenin against all those who would want to denounce him, whether that is outright reactionaries who have never actually read him to former revolutionaries who now conveniently disown him. Over a hundred authors from (nearly) every corner of the world pit themselves against mis-readings and misunderstandings of Lenin in short essays, most of which are bite-sized and some of which are more difficult to digest.

Commemoration

When Lenin died in 1924 he was mummified and put on display in Moscow, bits of his body replaced over the years so that barely any of the original Lenin is left. He objected to this idea before he died, in fact, Lenin also opposed the project of producing a “collected work”, believing there was no point in collating obscure writings from the past. Since then, “Leninists” of different stripes have been scrabbling over the remains of his work, work which, when published in his lifetime was censored by the very Stalinist apparatus that he warned about. There are quite a range of those interpreters of Lenin in this book, those who venerate him and tie that veneration to some quite horrible bureaucratic regimes that are actually the antithesis of what he tried to build after 1917. The quasi-religious veneration doesn’t do him any favours, still less those who want to put him into practice today.

We are reminded that there were offerings place by his coffin, and afterwards nearly 2,000 different objects – ranging from flowers to books to statues – were photographed and catalogued. There is a danger, of course, that the little chapters in this book will function in this kind of way, reminders of the way that Marxism in the Soviet Union and other “workers’ states” was turned into a belief system rather than a guide to action.

There are some off-the-wall quasi-Stalinist Lenins in this book, formulations that try to press him into some kind of weird justification for some old and some existing regimes, including Maoist and even Putinite distortions of history, and there are some very sound revolutionary Marxist discussions of theoretical issues and practical political questions, and, between those two – those that are dead wrong (but need to be read and grappled with, argued with) and those who do want to bring him alive again (and you will find some of our comrades at work in this book) – there are a range of innovative readings, illuminating, surprising.

Dialectical intersectional Lenins

What comes through in this book is at least two reminders of what is important about Lenin. One is that there is no one fixed “Leninist” position about anything. He changed his mind, argued with those who turned his ideas into dogma, and was engaged in continual critical reflection on what was to be done. As the political context changed, so he was forced to reassess his analysis and to shift political position. The other reminder is that there are multiple ways of connecting with Lenin and taking up his ideas, and this book includes anarchist, feminist, anti-colonial, trans and queer readings of what Lenin was up to in Russia up to 1917 and after it. These Lenins remind us that to be communist is to be many things, to be many contradictory things at the same time.

Notwithstanding some of the old fixed-scheme Stalinist residues in this book, and some confused gobblydygook, structuralist, post-structuralist and phenomenological, what this “heritage” of Lenin does is to effectively reconfigure him as someone who is, in effect, profoundly “intersectional.” In chapters of this book we see how “Leninist” it is to develop analyses of “racial capitalism” and “social reproduction” and much more. Many contrasting standpoints of the exploited and oppressed reclaim Lenin in this book and link him to social movements that we must now be linked with if we are to be authentically Leninist.

The book includes the fruits of careful historical study, so we travel with “Dr Jacob Richter” (his pseudonym to get a ticket from the British Library) around London on the top of a London bus, and we learn about how he spent crucial months just before the Russian Revolution reading Hegel and coming to an understanding of the need to “smash” the state instead of taking it over and of the need to turn to the anti-colonial movements. We are reminded of how and why Putin hates Lenin, blaming him for actively supporting the national independence of Ukraine, and of the debates over the rights of colonised nations with Rosa Luxemburg, who should have known better.

And as well as learning – the book could be used as the basis of an educational course in revolutionary Marxism, tracking theoretical developments, historical processes and some bad mistakes – you will, at moments laugh. Rosa Luxemburg writes to a friend (and this comment is referred to by at least three of the contributors) “Yesterday Lenin came, and up to today he has been here four times already. I enjoy talking with him, he’s clever and well educated, and has such an ugly mug, the kind I like to look at.”

Communism

This is an unashamedly partisan book, on the side of the exploited and oppressed and showing that Lenin, for all his faults, was too. The editors tell us that “The shamelessly immodest purpose of this book is to be an active part of this process of communisting; in our case, an unapologetically Leninist one”. It is a brave project, time-consuming, and now it takes time to read it – this is a big book – but worth it if we are to take Lenin to heart and liberate ourselves.

You can read and comment on this article where it was first published here

Antisemitism and stalinist realism

Ian Parker argues that an obsession with identities and boundaries is toxic to open Marxism, and we need to grasp that in order to combat antisemitism.

Stalinist realism, which turns Marxism into a bizarre worldview, is no alternative to capitalism, but it is, instead, an ideological force inside the left that complements “capitalist realism” Mark Fisher described. While capitalist realism tells us that there is no alternative to this wretched political-economic system, stalinist realism tells us that the only alternative is a fixed worldview obsessed with identities and boundaries. Antisemitism is one of its manifestations, also then giving further ammunition to those on the right who have often claimed that critique of capitalism is itself antisemitic. We need to examine stalinist realism in relation to antisemitism in more detail in order to understand what it is we are up against in the struggle to build an authentic anti-capitalist movement grounded in an open inclusive form of Marxism.

Origins

The origins of stalinist realism, as the phrase indicates, lie in the bureaucratic apparatus in the Soviet Union headed by Joseph Stalin after 1924. That apparatus turned away from the internationalist ethos of the new soviet state. The communist parties around the world in the Third International were turned into diplomatic tools of the regime, in the process relaying a nationalist as well as bureaucratic ethos into left politics. Defence of the revolution was then interpreted by communists in these Stalinist parties and by fellow travellers as defence of the Soviet Union, which itself closed in on itself with a renewed emphasis carried forward from Tsarist pre-1917 times on the family and Russian ethnic identity, with dire consequences for Jews inside Russia and its territories. With the revival of Great Russian nationalism came a revival of antisemitism, culminating in the so-called “doctor’s plot” shortly before Stalin died.

The years of Stalinist rule saw national “minorities” enclosed in specific geographical areas, humoured for their quaint cultural traditions and increasingly strictly defined and delimited. Anthropological and psychological research during this time operated on the assumption of a hierarchy of development in which “backward” nationalities were derogated. In some cases, with the fate of the Crimean Tatars only one example, that entailed the transporting and relocating of entire populations. In the case of the Jews, there were attempts to settle them far from the metropolitan centres, to Birobidzhan near the border with China. This “Jewish Autonomous Oblast” had Yiddish as its official language, and antisemitism elsewhere in the Soviet Union increased alongside this segregation.

There was a shift in tactics on the part of the Soviet bureaucracy after the Second World War and when the full extent of the Holocaust was becoming visible, but not of strategy. When Stalin endorsed the partition of Palestine in November 1947 into a Jewish state and Arab territory, the policy shift became evident. Then, in May 1948, the Soviet Union was one of the first states to recognise the newly-founded state of Israel after having given the go-ahead to the Czechoslovak regime, an obedient partner in the Soviet bloc, to supply weaponry to the Zionist paramilitary organisation Haganah. These arms shipments implicated the Soviet Union in the Nakba and ethnic cleansing by the Israeli state. In this way, Stalin could continue a policy of collusion and compromise with imperialist powers that would guarantee the project of “socialism in one country,” the “one country” being Russia and its territories.

Zionism

Stalinist diplomatic policy was continued by Krushchev as “peaceful coexistence” and, concerning Jews, involved a double-strategy; there was practical surveillance and containment at home, including in Eastern Europe and Birobidzhan, and accusations of disloyalty levelled at Jews who wished to emigrate to Israel; and there was symbolic containment abroad, with identification of Jews with Israel, treating Israel as a de-facto Jewish state and Jews around the world as spoken for by that state. What should be noticed here is the enforcement of ethnic and racial homogeneity.

This homogenising of identity is one of the trademarks of stalinist realism; while the working class of each nation was expected to follow its own “road to socialism” – the “British Road” becoming the self-description of the Communist Party of Great Britain adhering to the logic of “socialism in one country,” for instance – Jews who did not identify with Israel, and even, inside the Soviet Bloc, those that did, were accused of being “cosmopolitans.”

In the worldview of stalinist realism, “cosmopolitan” becomes the new negative code-word for what was once in Marxism, and in the Bolshevik party that brought about the Russian Revolution, positive inclusive “internationalism,” what we could now term “open communism.” Jews, including Jewish socialists of the Bund – the “General Jewish Labour Bund” in Russia, Poland and Lithuania, where it was founded in 1897 – were subject to antisemitism after the Second World War, in some cases to pogroms, and fled to Israel. There they carried on their socialist internationalist organising and agitation against capitalism in the Israeli state, some of them concluding that the Jewish people were effectively disappearing, being encouraged to abandon Yiddish, and forced to adapt to a Zionist “Israeli” Hebrew-speaking nation state.

Stalinist realism pretends to define what is “real” in social processes, most significantly here as concerns national and cultural-ethnic identity. And so stalinist realism operates as if it is possible to definitively, for state-bureaucratic purposes, define what Jew is. Today this is accompanied by the claim that self-definition is an expression of so-called “identity politics,” which adherents of a stalinist realist view of the world set themselves against. For Jews this attempt at external “objective” definition runs against a tradition of fierce claims and counter-claims about identity which is always self-defined. In addition to the many varieties of Judaism, adherents of which often accuse other denominations of not being Jewish, there are the explicitly anti-Zionist currents inside Israel ranging from the ultra-Orthodox Haredi Neturei Karta to the revolutionary Marxist Matzpen.

Campism

This worldview is elaborated diplomatically on a global scale according the distinctively stalinist realist precept of “campism,” in which it is assumed that one constellation of identities and regimes can be mobilised against another. This is still functional to Russia today which ramps up national chauvinist propaganda internally, demanding conformity to the demands of the state, and claims to defend “Russian” speakers against neighbouring states that are accused of being subject to outside influences and, at times in Putin’s speeches, accused of not really existing.

Against Lenin’s insistence on the right of Ukraine to national self-determination, for instance, Putin implements a stalinist realist definition of identity which defines which identities count and which ones do not. This, at the same time as repeating antisemitic tropes about the Russian Revolution being a time of chaos benefitting outside interests; read “cosmopolitans” and then, by implication, according to an agenda set by the Jews. The favour was bizarrely returned by Israel when it stayed silent in the first days of the Russian invasion of Ukraine, and Israel has benefitted from close economic and arms supply links with China, another ideological source point of stalinist realist diplomacy and reasoning.

Campism is poisonous not only for Jews who still follow the internationalist Bund principle of “doikayt” (in Yiddish) or “hereness” – a principle that declares that the struggle is wherever they live and work, as opposed to the romanticising of another country to which they could travel and live in a homogeneous community – but also for all peoples subject to categorisation and allotment to one side or another, as if either intrinsically “progressive” or “reactionary.” The campist logic in stalinist realism is what leads the Putin regime to operate in an ostensible “axis of resistance” which is then cheered on by supporters around the world who mistakenly believe that they are then siding with the “progressive” states against the “reactionary” ones.

This then leads, as it did in high-Stalinist times, to a downplaying of criticism of a range of regimes, including, depending on diplomatic niceties at any particular moment, Venezuela and Zimbabwe, and Syria and Iran, the latter two adopting what they term an “Anti-Zionist” position that often amounts to little more than barely-disguised antisemitism. In those cases “Anti-Zionism” is often, as right-wing supporters of Israel are prone to claim, indeed code for antisemitism. This kind of supposedly-progressive “axis” or “camp” will also, for those who follow such a worldview, at times include non-state actors such as Hamas or Hezbollah, involvement of which should send further alarm signals to those in alliance with progressive Jews and attempting to combat antisemitism in popular movements, including in the anti-war movement.

Concrete identity

Stalinist realism pretends to specify not only which national cultures or local ethnicities are progressive but also those that are reactionary; this is the propaganda ploy of the Putin regime and its supporters who oscillate between an insistence that Ukraine does not really exist – this is where the “realism” is brought into play to discredit claims to self-determination – and the implication that all Ukrainians, for example, are, by definition, fascist. In the case of Ukraine, this derogation of an entire nation, supposedly in defence of Russian-speaking minorities, is accompanied by claims that Ukrainians are intrinsically antisemitic. Such nationalist Russian state propaganda, note, is targeting a country that is run by a Russian-speaking Jewish president, Zelenskyy, who is not himself “progressive” and seeks identification and alliance with Israel in his call for military support against the Russian invasion. The cultural-political nuances of the situation are washed away in the stalinist realist worldview, one which benefits, as diplomatic manoeuvres and propaganda did under Stalin, certain states posing as somehow progressive.

Here, and in other cases, the much-vaunted criticism of “identity-politics” by those caught in the ideological cross-currents of stalinist realism conceals another more solid notion of identity – “real” identity as opposed to symbolic strategic kinds – that is then defined and, when necessary, enforced. At some moments this wielding of criticism of identity politics is itself tactical, as in the supposed “defence” of Russian-speaking areas of Ukraine (at the very same time as local left leaders are assassinated). At other moments it is much more concrete and permanent, as in the claims that an intrinsically anti-racist and progressive white working class in the “red wall” industrial heartlands are being undermined by those with a fragmentary “identity politics” agenda. Those, including radical Jewish groups who refuse to identify with Israel, and who complain about racism or antisemitism are then themselves accused of being racist, of stirring up discontent and division. Curiously, and paradoxically, it is then the very lack of attachment to identity among “intersectional” leftist and queer activists that is cited as evidence for their supposedly reactionary “identity politics.”

Abstraction

The concrete and assumed underlying “real” aspect of what are actually historically-evolving cultural identities has been at the core in recent years of debates over antisemitism in Germany, debates that threaten Marxism as such. These debates should serve as a stark warning to all of us on the left. Potently present in the caricatures of Marxism that have been thrown around are motifs that actually come from the corrupted bureaucratic version of Marxism that we find in Stalinism and, today, in stalinist realism. This is one place where the antisemitic ideological currents in the Soviet Union and the Eastern European states until 1989 have such a powerful poisonous effect. When such stalinist realism claims that it is the only one alternative to capitalism – the destiny of the concrete and unchanging character of the working class of a nation – then it is understandable, if no less tragic, that some on the left are drawn from practical-critique of this economic-political order to its defence, defence of what are seen as liberal tolerant values against hardened dogma.

It is the particular nature of the dogma that is targeted in the recent so-called “anti-German” debates in which it is assumed that to be “anti-German” is to take a progressive position. This “anti-German” position, and accompanying hostility to Marxism, has then been relayed from that national context into other contexts to weaponise accusations of antisemitism against the left; it has been thrown both against those who are entirely innocent of the charge as well as against some who are, it is true, absolutely guilty of it and need to be called out.

Why is the “anti-German” position, which aims to understand the grip of antisemitism now accompanied by hostility to Marxism? It is more than mere “dogma” that is targeted in these debates; it is precisely the obsession with the “concrete.” Here, a concern with what is “concrete,” which is attributed to Marxists, is countered by a defence of what is “abstract.”

One of the key authors in these debates, someone who brings his own peculiar misreading of Marx to bear in his defence of “abstraction,” is the Canadian ex-Marxist Moishe Postone. Postone claimed, in an influential text circulated in different versions on the Internet, that Marx and then Marxism is hostile to “abstraction,” and in favour, instead, of concrete tangible reality and of forms of community that are adjudged “real.” So, the value form under capitalism, the flow of capital, is, Postone argued, seen by Marx as something intangible, universal and mobile, and this characteristic of capital, Postone claimed, chimes with antisemitic complaints about Jews, ideological tropes that revolve around an assumed “abstractness, intangibility, universality, mobility”.

What is significant and potent here in the “anti-German” debates is not so much Postone’s own formulations, which did vary during the years he was writing, but the uptake of them by those on the right, and some on the left, who compounded the misunderstanding of Marx that was being propagated in these online texts. The ideological effect of these claims is to treat Marxism as an extremist and latently antisemitic belief system that is as hostile to Jews as is fascism.

As has been pointed out in critiques of Postone, there is a double misunderstanding here; of Marx and of the nature of fascism. First, the accounts of Marx’s analytic comments about what is “abstract” in capitalism are actually, a critical response to Postone points out, “an amalgam of individual aspects of Marx’s analysis taken out of context” (Sommer, 2021, Anti-Postone, London: Cosmonaut, p. 16). More than that, the “universality” that capitalism accomplishes is, remember, treated by Marxists precisely as what is most positive about it, a universality that the working class , including the Jewish working class, puts into practice in its internationalism. Secondly, antisemitism under the Nazis, and in other like movements since, have, in fact, mobilised against “concrete” tangible characteristics in the name of higher “abstract” values; one instance is precisely the image of “dirty” practical concern with the material world attributed to Jews that obsessed the Nazis. These are the kind of stereotypical images of the Jews that Marx seizes upon and quotes and throws back as accusations against Bruno Bauer; Marx’s comments are not designed to endorse but to sarcastically challenge such antisemitic tropes.

The appalling consequences of these arguments play into and intensify mainstream German state political discourse, which voices guilt about the Holocaust while channelling that into financial aid to the Israeli state rather than to actual victims of the Holocaust. In place of genuine solidarity with Jewish victims of the Nazis, many of whom now languish in conditions of poverty with little state support inside Israel, the German state allies itself with Zionism, Zionism that is now dedicated to building an expansionist apartheid state that, among other things, is turning into a death trap for Jews as well as for the Palestinians.

This dominant bad faith identification with Zionism by the German state is aided and abetted by those who parrot Postone and contrast the “blood and soil intifada of the Palestinians,” that is their supposed “concreteness,” to the State of Israel which is abstract, “artificial in the best sense of the word” (cited in Sommer, Anti-Postone, London: Cosmonaut, 2021, p. 72). Declared attachment to the land and the rhetoric of blood and soil is, of course, common to fascist discourse and reactionary Palestinian groups and ardent right-wing Zionists, none of which are remotely anti-capitalist.

Concreteness in Marxist political analysis

We should note that the use of and complaint against what is “concrete” by followers of Postone is as misleading as the value given to “abstraction.” Marx explicitly values abstraction as a necessary aspect of any scientific, and social-scientific approach to phenomena. The categories employed in his analysis build on empirical data to construct “abstractions” like “capital,” “value” and, indeed, “the proletariat” as an avowedly internationalist force that will achieve and then dissolve its own specific historically-constituted and claimed identity in the process of overthrowing capitalism. And the “concrete,” for Marx, is the diametric opposite of the appeal to the German “Volk” and their tie to the land in different strains of German pagan traditions, philosophy and then Nazism.

What is “concrete” for Marx is itself something to be conceptualised, grasped, he says, in its “many determinations”; it is not like a lump of concrete to be directly observed and measured, but is given reality for us by its relation to other things. One might even say that this understanding of what is concrete is actually critical of crude caricatures of materialism in Soviet Marxism and quite close to contemporary feminist-inflected accounts of the importance of “intersectionality” to theory and practice.

The recent anti-Marxist movements in Germany feed on the distortions of Marxism that were designed to buttress the Stalinist bureaucracy, and they have buried within them their own strange replication of the very stalinist realism that they ostensibly rebel against. Actually, they make no such fine distinction between Stalinism and revolutionary Marxism, but end up setting themselves against revolutionary internationalist politics. We see this in a peculiarity of the “anti-German” movement that Postone himself drew attention to, one of the drivers of his own analysis of antisemitism. Postone argued for specific analysis of the rise of Nazism in Germany, while his followers today who are busy pushing German politics to the right see antisemitism everywhere, as if it were a universal danger regardless of historical processes in different nation states.

In place of Postone’s own earlier critiques of Nazism as a movement that developed, he says, “in the interests of capital,” there is an allegiance to capitalism in the name of anti-fascism, allegiance to capitalism in German and to capitalism in Zionist Israel. This does not do internationalist Jews critical of Zionism any favours. In fact, it puts them in danger, and continues with many twists and turns the antisemitism that was present in the early days of the socialist movement in Europe. Antisemitism that had to be denounced and combated, was given new life and is carried into the left today by stalinist realism.

Conclusions

There is an alternative to capitalism and to stalinist realism, the tradition of “open communism” that links its analysis of the “many determinations” that are at work in any particular cultural-historical context with intersectional and multi-faceted political action. This is what is needed to understand the trajectory of antisemitism under capitalism. Antisemitism developed as a material force and as an ideological tool to divide the working class under capitalism, building upon the exclusion of Jews from power and their assignment to specific permitted professions, including to those that were then also damned as entailing “usury” (Leon, 1942). The Jews, confined and used by capitalism, were then treated as the prime enemy when capitalism sought to demonise emerging organised working-class threats to large private property, and it was then that the spectre of “Judeo-Bolshevism” was evoked in various conspiracy theories and in the destruction of Marxist organisations in Germany.

The internationalist and effectively “open communist” ethos of Marxism before and during the Russian Revolution was turned, as the bureaucracy under Stalin crystallised, into a nationalist caricature that did often trade in its own versions of conspiracy theory to deal with traitors, including Jews, who threatened internal stability or who argued for an alternative. The Left Opposition to Stalin and then the Trotskyist movement were often attacked by Stalinists as being in some way “cosmopolitan,” effectively as Jewish. Marxist analysis enables us to grasp how and why these brutal phenomena – Nazism and Stalinism – arose, and what the stakes are now in building an anti-capitalist movement that is attentive to the role of stalinist realism and antisemitism as helpmeet of reaction.

This article first appeared in Sublation Magazine

Republic of Cuba

We shift continent, from Asia to the Americas, for the next act of resistance to imperialism a decade on, now in the backyard of the United States – the area that it often designates as such – and a revolution that grows over from democratic nationalist tasks in such a way that actually really puts socialism on the agenda; this both for those taking part as they seize the means of production and take control of their lives and for those watching across the rest of the continent who will be inspired to take such a step themselves.

 

The full chapter appears in Ian Parker’s Socialisms: Revolutions Betrayed, Mislaid and Unmade, published by Resistance Books and the IIRE (2020).

This was one of the Socialisms series of FIIMG articles

 

Hugo Blanco

Hugo Blanco is in Manchester on 25 February 2019, but who is Hugo Blanco? 

Hugo Blanco is an inspiration to revolutionary ecosocialists. Born in Cusco, once capital of Tawantinsuyu and now in Peru, in 1934, his first struggles were school protests. He travelled to Argentina, where he abandoned university to work in a meat-packing factory in La Plata, and his encounter with the Fourth International eventually led him back to Peru where he became a factory and then peasant organiser. He was arrested in 1963, and was in prison in Peru in the notorious El Frontón prison off the coast until 1970. After some years in exile, in Mexico, Argentina, Chile and Sweden, he returned to Peru to be elected to the Constituent Assembly there. He was deported to Argentina, to return and stand for the Peruvian Presidency, elected to Peruvian Congress where he served from 1980 to 1985. The years since he has been actively involved in land struggles, escaping government and Shining Path assassination attempts, publishing the activist magazine Lucha Indigena, and recently leading street protests against amnesty for Fujimori in the streets of Lima.

This man is beaten back and then up he pops again; he has been a tireless militant, building many radical movements against exploitation and oppression, uniting industrial and rural workers in joint struggle. I still have a poster of him that I had on my wall as a student, of him angrily resisting court officials after one of his many arrests, this one after his participation as a member of the Partido Revolucionario de los Trabajadores in a broader organisation Frente Obrero, Campesino, Estudantil, y Popular. FOCEP had gained 11% of the vote in the elections and the Peruvian state was determined that Blanco pay for that. Now we have a book that honours this life of enduring struggle, and honours it by telling us of the unfolding political context and the role of organisations Blanco helped build in order to further resistance. This is a book to marvel at and learn from. This is Blanco’s history, but also our history as part of a revolutionary tradition that has traced a parallel path, a path we should be proud to say connects with his at many crucial points.

I have set out the very brief version of his political biography here. What Derek Wall does is to flesh that out with details of his life that draw attention not only to the incredibly diverse kinds of struggle that Blanco has been involved with around the world but also aspects of his personal life. These details enrich the narrative. We learn, for example, not only of the role of the Fourth International in the international campaign to release him from prison – that I knew when I had the poster pinned up – but also of the later financial appeals for medical treatment, operations Blanco needed after lingering injuries to his head and back, results of severe beatings by police and army and prison guards. It is a miracle he has survived so long; he is, as Wall points out, someone with more than a cat’s nine lives.

The book is packed with anecdotes that have a strong political charge; did you know, for example, that Blanco was in Chile during the coup against Allende, and that he managed to escape because he was not on a death list, not on a death list because he was critical of the regime as reformist rather than one of its supporters? The accidents and ironies of history are traced with a steady hand in this book that allows us to see better how political lives are necessarily entwined with personal experience and personal costs.

You will be awestruck as you read this book, it is the kind of book you can give as a present to someone beginning to learn about politics as an introduction to what ecosocialism is about in practice, and you will sometimes laugh too, bitter radical humour. We learn something about the influence of Leon Trotsky, but also about José María Arguedas and José Carlos Mariátegui (from whom the phrase ‘shining path’ comes) and, why Blanco ‘viewed the collectivist nature of the Inca Empire, despite its undemocratic character, as an inspiration for the creation of communism in Peru’. And we learn how important women’s resistance to patriarchy has been to Blanco as well as indigenous resistance to despoliation of their land. Wall quotes Eduardo Galeano writing that one of his fourteen hunger strikes, when Blanco could go on no longer ‘the government was so moved it sent him a coffin as a present’.

This book is beautifully written, with some great turns of phrase which sum up key debates; speaking of Blanco’s interest in alternative systems of political organisation, that of the ayllu in pre-colonial times, Wall pits this against a false choice often posed to us in which ‘One alternative is the purity of inaction’ and ‘the other is action that reforms a system so as to conserve it’. Hugo Blanco is about action, action linked to genuine transformative change.

This must have been an extraordinarily difficult to write, for Wall has a triple-task here; to tell us about the life of Hugo Blanco, yes of course, but also to tell us about the history of Latin America, from the arrival of the conquistadors to the new imperialist subjugation of the continent, and, more, to tell us how revolutionary traditions and organisations of resistance, including groups affiliated to the Fourth International were built and how they split, and sometimes merged again. What drives this book forward is that Wall wants to explain, is a passionate and thoughtful author, takes pains to neatly sidetrack into some doctrinal disputes, but always in order to return us to the same question; what is to be done, and what did Blanco do in those different situations.

Another strength is that the writing of this book, it is clear, has also been as collaborative as the political life of its subject. Those who have followed Wall’s postings and pleas for help on social media over the last year will know this well. Blanco refuses honours that are directed to him alone, always preferring to draw attention to collective organisation, to others who were also co-workers. He knows that he owes his life to this common struggle; Wall describes an occasion when he was arrested, when peasants blockaded the bus he was being taken away in, forcing his release. And, the flipside of his, we see him on trial claiming responsibility for deaths in an exchange of fire with officers when the ballistics evidence says otherwise; Blanco is protecting his comrades. Wall too has drawn on the expertise of others to piece together this account, and has been very lucky to also be able to draw on Blanco’s own memories.

As Wall points out, many of the indigenous, peasant and ecological struggles that are at the heart of Hugo Blanco’s life, and reason why he left the Fourth International, actually prefigure many of the political developments inside the Fourth International in recent years; Wall writes that ‘Both the Trotskyist and the indigenous elements of his politics have fuelled his resistance.’ This book is the best of green and red politics. Few political figures have managed to trace a path that is true to both. Hugo Blanco did that, and so does this book.

 

You can order the book here.

 

Register for the meeting with Hugo Blanco and Derek Wall in Manchester here

 

This article first appeared as a book review here, where you can comment on it

 

 

Democratic People’s Republic of Korea

Three years on from the dramatic structural transformations in Eastern Europe after the Second World War, we shift further east, to Asia, and to a new wave of revolutionary activity that gave rise to regimes heavily influenced by the Soviet Union but breaking from it in order to overthrow capitalism and declaring from the outset that the struggle and the leadership and the economy are ‘socialist’.

 

The full chapter appears in Ian Parker’s Socialisms: Revolutions Betrayed, Mislaid and Unmade, published by Resistance Books and the IIRE (2020).

This was one of the Socialisms series of FIIMG articles

 

 

CLR James film feast

The film Every Cook Can Govern: The Life, Impact and Works of C.L.R. James was released in April last year, and has been doing the rounds in meetings organised by different front organisations of the Spiked-online network, an ex-Trotskyist group led by the sociologist Frank Furedi and ubiquitous media pundit Claire Fox. It turned up in Manchester at the beginning of September at an event hosted by the Salon, and leaflets for the audience from ‘Worldbytes’ and ‘Citizen TV’ included the usual tell-tale Spiked lines on things like ‘economic growth and serious development for all’. No mention of socialism here, but the film itself is actually quite fantastic. The audience at the Manchester showing consisted, on my rough count, of members of at least six different activist groups. We were stunned at the unfolding story of CLR James, the revolutionary Marxist from Trinidad who joined the Trotskyist movement in the early 1930s and died in Brixton south London as an unrepentant activist in 1989.

The film traces a narrative arc from James’ love of cricket in Trinidad to his time in London and then, crucially, his experience of working class militancy in the Lancashire mill-town of Nelson. James lodged with the cricketer Learie Constantine and became active in the Independent Labour Party as a Trotskyist. We learn how it was the practice of class struggle and solidarity in the community that led James to revolutionary and so then to Trotskyist politics, and we are then taken through his experience of becoming a member of the Fourth International, which was formed in 1938, and then writing his classic text Black Jacobins and his play about the Haitian slave rebel Toussaint L’Ouverture which starred Paul Robeson in the leading role. The struggle against the US American and European ruling class and against Stalinism through the Second World War eventually leads us back to cricket as site of class struggle in James’ book Beyond a Boundary. We are then taken through interviews with his nephew Darcus Howe and interventions by Selma James, his partner and founder of the Wages for Housework campaign, to the end of his life.

The film doesn’t pull its punches, clearly locating James as a Marxist and revolutionary humanist in the best tradition of the Western Enlightenment, and it succeeds in opening up questions for activists today about our history and the place of colonialism and imperialism in contemporary capitalism. There is not time in just over two hours of a film that includes much unseen footage of James to cover all the aspects of his life.

There are two aspects that could have been stretched a little further. One is James’ continuing relationship with the Fourth International after the 1930s. The film notes that he visited Trotsky in 1939 and was still a revolutionary when he was deported from the US in 1953. What is not made clear is that James was part of an intense struggle inside the Fourth International as half of the ‘Johnson-Forest Tendency’ (James was Johnson and the Hegelian Marxist humanist Raya Dunayevskaya was Forest) which anticipated some early debates about the nature of the Soviet Union as ‘state capitalist’ and provided a platform for James’ argument that revolutionaries should support autonomous black self-organisation. He did not leave the Fourth International until 1949, and the FI can be proud to claim him as part of its history, a history of black struggle from which it has learnt much in recent years.

The other aspect concerns the way that James articulated the question of autonomous black struggle with standpoint and ‘identity’. It is clear that resistance to racism is necessarily bound up with the assertion of the common identity of the oppressed (as, for that matter, is working class struggle against capitalism). It is this concern with identity politics that the complex network of organisations around Spiked has spent so much time rubbishing in recent years, part and parcel of its hostility to the ‘nanny state’. It is intriguing and puzzling that James would be subject of a film documentary made by this group.

There are, it should be said, some very traditional and problematic aspects of the documentary format that the film follows. So, we have mainly young black women interviewing mainly white men who tell us how to understand James as a historical figure. Spiked community stalwarts like James Heartfield and Alan Hudson are dominant voices. There is a bizarre scene shot near Nelson where Alan Hudson and the young women are arrayed along one side of a picnic table. The jars of olives and other foodstuffs are turned so that the brand labels are hidden, while Hudson as the main figure in this last supper scenario is speaking into a microphone with a large Worldbytes sign stuck on it. Nevertheless, for all that, for all of the constraints of the format (and perhaps of the background guidance by Spiked in the writing, editing and format of the film), both Heartfield and Hudson speak as Marxists about a Marxist. This is a marvellous film, and you don’t have to be a supporter of ‘Citizen TV’ to love it.

 

You can also read this article and comment on it here

 

 

 

Alliance for Workers’ Liberty

A Canterbury Tale, a Powell and Pressburger classic from 1944, stars Eric Portman as Thomas Colpeper, a magistrate and gentleman farmer who gives improving cultural lectures to the community, but who is then revealed to be the ‘glue man’. This is the glue man who has been pouring sticky stuff into the hair of girls too friendly with the American GIs stationed in the fictitious little town of Chillingbourne near Canterbury in Kent. Colpeper’s rationale for doing this, he says when he is uncovered, is that this will frighten the girls away from fraternising with the outsiders and so glue together the community.

In this film Colpeper is, in some sense, the obscene underside of the law, the smear on the community necessary to hold the good moral law in place. In spite of itself, the film reveals something of the dirty often secret violence that holds a clean wholesome community in place, a united community that in this film is configured as a very English ethnic community. It is Bob, an American army sergeant who gets off the train to Canterbury at Chillingbourne by mistake, who links up with Land Girl Alison (played by Sheila Sim) to track down the glue man after she is attacked on the first night.

A Canterbury Tale has become a cult favourite among a small group of devotees who visit Canterbury every year and declaim from the script, visiting Canterbury Cathedral at the end of their visit. They are then able to re-enact the final scene in the Cathedral where the British Army Sergeant Peter (played by Dennis Price) plays the organ after deciding not to report Colpeper to the police. Bob has discovered that letters have indeed arrived to his sweetheart, and Alison has discovered that her boyfriend has not been killed in the war as she feared. Just Chaucer’s pilgrims travelled to Canterbury, Colpeper says, ‘to receive blessing, or to do penance’, so Colpeper and his English community are blessed after having been glued together; the implication being that these desperate measures of deception were necessary after all, and the good that came from them will bear fruit.

AWL

The Alliance for Workers’ Liberty (AWL) popped into the headlines in 2016 as the mainstream press tried to track down evil Trotskyists who were infiltrating the Labour Party, but their supposed crime of supporting Jeremy Corbyn and taking the Labour Party further to the left is nothing to some of the strange alliances they have made since they were formed. In fact, while they were busy circulating petitions against a ‘witchhunt’ in 2016, they were keen to reassure their hosts that they are very loyal to the party, taking the opportunity to draw a contrast between their own fealty to the party apparatus and the dastardly operations of nasty ‘entrists’ who are not really concerned with unity at all. The AWL appear to operate as poachers turned gamekeepers, but things are more complicated than that; they are, at one moment, poachers who are willing to pretend to be with the gamekeepers, and, at the next, gamekeepers for the unity of a community who will do a little poaching on the side to glue things together.

The mastermind behind the AWL’s twists and turns as they burrow into organisations and then emerge triumphant with a handful of new members out the other side is Sean Matgamna who founded Workers’ Fight in 1967 after a brief faction fight inside the Revolutionary Socialist League (RSL), then British Section of the Fourth International, forerunners of the Militant Tendency and today’s Socialist Party (SP). He then took the group into Tony Cliff’s International Socialists (IS), forerunners of today’s Socialist Workers Party, after IS made a unity call in 1968 and invited different organisations on the revolutionary left to come together under one umbrella (theirs). The story that went the rounds is that IS had their eyes on the International Marxist Group, a fairly important organisation at the time which counted Tariq Ali as a prominent member, but instead of Tariq Ali they got Sean Matgamna. IS paid dearly for their mistake, and Matgamna’s Trotskyist Tendency was duly expelled from Cliff’s group in 1971, and buoyed up with new members scooped out during the adventure.

Unity was now the name of the game for Matgamna, but unity with a twist, which was that each and every other Trotskyist group that made the mistake of responding to the siren calls of his group in good faith got badly bruised. Unity, it seems, could only be brought about by a healthy dose of internal strife. It set a pattern for a peculiar ‘inoculation’ model of entrism in which Matgamna’s comrades join as very loyal members of the organisation they have targeted but then ally with part of the apparatus to attack enemies and so emerge as the winners at the end of the process. Workers Power made the mistake of fusing with Workers’ Fight to form the International Communist League (ICL) in 1975, for example, but things ended badly in less than a year. Matgamna shut down the ICL and its paper Workers Action in 1978 and launched Socialist Organiser, which styled itself as ‘the paper of the Socialist Campaign for a Labour Victory’. Now inside the Labour Party, they managed to persuade Alan Thornett’s Workers Socialist League (formed after the expulsion of Thornett and other comrades from the Workers Revolutionary Party in 1974) to agree to merge with them in 1981 and close down their own paper Socialist Press. It was another bad mistake, and the joint organisation lasted less than a year.

One of the crunch points in the faction fight that spat out the Thornett group again was the 1982 Falklands War and a response by Matgamna to the conflict which has been part of a pattern of adaptation to ethnic unity and notions of ‘community’ before the war and since. Before the Falklands War, Matgamna had already argued inside IS and after his expulsion, and against the anti-imperialist and Irish republication position of most of the British revolutionary left, that the Protestants of Ulster should be seen as a beleaguered community under threat with the right to self-determination. It was an argument that was in tune with some of his old comrades in the RSL back in the mid-sixties (and there are traces of that in the Militant and SP positions on Ireland). True to form, Matgamna argued that the Malvinas were not Argentina’s, but that the plucky Falklands Islanders did, just as Margaret Thatcher always claimed, have the right to self-determination.

The split with the Thornett group left Matgamna in charge to go on to found Alliance for Workers’ Liberty in 1992 after Socialist Organiser had been banned by the Labour Party two years earlier, and the AWL has been proving itself loyal to its host organisation ever since, and loyal to the different nationalist and ethnically-defined communities it has allied with. This is as well as having its newspaper operate as an outlet for Matgamna’s poetry, improving cultural material that is clearly an embarrassment for the poor AWL members who have to sell the thing. Would that Eric Portman were alive today to play the part.

The adaptation to ethnic unity and community identity took another turn when the AWL followed through the logic of Matgamna’s 1986 declaration that a ‘two-state’ solution was the only way forward for Israel, and for the defence of Israel. The AWL went on to forge a strong working relationship with Zionists in the Union of Jewish Students (more fool them, don’t they know it will end in tears), leading Matgamna’s bunch to argue that Israel is not an apartheid state, a position very convenient for its loyal membership of the historically pro-Zionist Labour Party. This is a position that has drawn the accusation that the AWL are ‘revolutionary imperialists’. This particular alliance with Zionism also, rather predictably, led the AWL to publish Islamophobic trash, glue in the hair; an alliance, for unity and community, against outsiders. The AWL line, a weird perversion of the internationalist tradition they were born from, seems to be that community identity is an underlying good, and that a measure of deception and dirty work for the enemy will eventually result in something blessed for all.

This is part of the FIIMG Mapping the English Left through Film project.

 

Trotsky: What was that?

Like most human beings, Leon Davidovich Bronstein was born and he died. He was born in 1879 in Ukraine, became active in left politics in Russia as a student and was imprisoned in 1905 for participating in protests and a failed uprising against the brutal Tsarist regime. It was a regime that was still feudal, barely developing capitalist economic relations that many Marxists at the time saw as being the necessary prerequisite for a transition to socialism. Leon, our hero, escaped from internal exile, taking the name of his jailor in Odessa to avoid capture, and that name is the one we know today as Trotsky.
One of the lessons of 1905 for Trotsky was that in place of a static ‘stage’ view of historical change, the globalisation of the world economy that had already been picking up pace at the time Marx was writing led to the possibility that protest could grow over from anti-feudal to anti-capitalist revolutionary politics. A ‘permanent revolution’ would therefore be one that was intrinsically internationalist, linking different kinds of struggles against exploitation and oppression. Actually, in practice, Trotsky himself as an individual was a little behind his own analysis. There was a gap. He had to shift rapidly during the 1917 October Revolution across Russia to join the Bolsheviks, something his enemies held against him afterwards. He then became one of the leaders of the Soviet Union, and of the Red Army which was combating invasion by fourteen capitalist countries keen to prevent this revolution from growing over into a genuinely ‘permanent’ and international one.
This is where another gap opens up between Trotsky as leader, now an inspiring strong personality able to lead the regime and its troops, and the revolutionary process itself. His role in the suppression of the rebellion by sailors in the fortress at Kronstadt near St Petersburg, then renamed Petrograd, made him complicit in the formation of the very bureaucracy he analysed so well. But personal failings do not invalidate the diagnosis he gave and his brave attempt to reassert what was most progressive and democratic about the revolution against Stalin’s ban on rival parties, internal factions and then on any dissent. Trotsky’s book ‘The Revolution Betrayed’ was the fruit of his own direct participation and reflection on the mistakes that had been made, and recognition that this crushing and distortion of the revolution was a function of its isolation. There could be no ‘socialism in one country’ as Stalin claimed while he massively increased his own power and that of the apparatus.
The Stalinist bureaucracy in the 1930s was determined to root out its internal enemies, and Trotsky was portrayed as the root of all evil, with claims that he was working with the fascists alongside a grotesque revival of Russian antisemitism used to target him and his followers. It is true, he was a revolutionary Jew who saw autonomous collective self-organisation of the oppressed as an energising force for authentic internationalism. He warned against the trap of closed nationalist politics, and against the disastrous mistake of Zionism which would itself settle Israel on the land of others. He worked as a journalist before the revolution – they are not all bad – and after that he became the conscience of the revolution, a reminder of what it should have been. That meant connecting political-economic protest with cultural rebellion, including on the position of women as an index of how progressive or reactionary a regime is. Trotsky’s activities and writings on culture span engagement with psychoanalysis – meeting with Wilhelm Reich in exile in Norway, for example – and surrealism, writing a manifesto for revolutionary art while in Mexico toward the end of his life, a manifesto that was published under the names of André Breton and Diego Rivera.
That broad contradictory open and inclusive practice of revolutionary politics is what characterises the best of Trotsky, and it provides the background for two further key innovations. We can link the two. The first was the recognition that there was a marginalisation of revolutionary groups with the rise of fascism and Stalinism and then of the Cold War, and a domination of left politics by large reformist social democratic parties or, in some places, by communist parties tied to the Soviet Union. In these new conditions, Trotsky argued for what has been called ‘entrism’; not the secretive manipulation of the larger party apparatus, but direct membership and participation in the mass movement organisations. This is one way of drawing those who thought voting would change the world into action themselves, to themselves become those who would change things.
The second innovation was voiced in the founding document of a new international organisation in 1938 the Fourth International, a document known as the ‘transitional programme’. For Trotsky, ‘transitional demands’ like a sliding scale of wages or for opening the books of the corporations were eminently reasonable and democratic calls that capitalism could not and would not agree to. It was ‘transitional’ because it brought those in struggle up against the limits of the regime, and it then became transitional in practice, growing over from a series of demands into a linked political challenge to capitalism itself. Again, what was crucial for Trotsky was that it would be through the collective self-activity of people themselves rather than through diktats by their leaders that any revolutionary change worth the name would happen. In this, Trotsky is close to the revolutionary democratic politics of Rosa Luxemburg who was killed in 1919 in Berlin on the orders of the social democrats after an uprising that would have broken the isolation of the Russian revolution.
All this is anathema to big dictators and those who want to be like them. Trotsky was murdered by an agent of Stalin in Mexico, the only country that would give him a visa, in 1940. His son had already been murdered in Paris. The agent plunged an ice-pick into Trotsky’s head. Those who use the term ‘Trotskyite’ as a term of abuse sometimes joke about ice-picks, and they focus on the personality of Trotsky himself, avoiding the theory and practice he helped to build. Those of us who call ourselves ‘Trotskyists’ admire his life struggle and try to learn from that, drawing a balance sheet which puts that life in context, and aiming to build a different context in which such a hardening of character and brutality of politics will no longer exist. He didn’t drink much, and by all accounts lunchtimes in exile before he died were not a bundle of laughs. There are no pictures of Trotsky with cats, something which makes him less immediately internet-friendly, but if you twist a Trotskyist’s arm they will sometimes admit that they did once name their cat ‘Rosa’ or ‘Leon’.
You can also read this article where it was first published and comment on it here.

Whiteness: Claude Cahun

This keyword was one of fifty explored and put to work on this site. The notes on the keywords are revised and collected together in Revolutionary Keywords for a New Left, which includes a concluding essay placing them in historical context. The book includes a detailed reading list with web-links so you can more easily follow the links online, a list which is available here.