FLM LTY

by C. L. R. James,
Grace C. Lee, Pierre Chaulieu
BEWICK/ED
1974

Copyright c 1 974
Bewi ck Editi ons
1443 Bewi ck
Detroit, Mi ch. 48214
Published 1958 by
Correspondence Publishing LOO(O]
CONTENTS
Introduction .
I The Workers Councils
n The Whole World
III The Self -Confessed Bankruptcy
of Official Society
IV End of a Philosophy
. V New Society: New People
V The Marxist Organization: 1903-1958
VII What To Do and How To Do It
Conclusion
Appendix .
5
7
20
42
65 .
71
86
106
161
167
INTRODUCTION
The whole world today lives in the shadow of the
state power. This state power is an ever-present self
perpetuating body over and above society. It transforms
the human personality into a ma's of economic needs TO
be satisfied by decimal points of economic progress. It
robs everyone of initiative and clogs the free develop
ment of society. This state power, by whatever name it
Is called, One-Party state or Welfare state, destroys
aU pretense of government by the peopie, of the people.
/,11 that remains is government for the people.
Against this monster, people all over the world, !ld
particularly ordinary working people in factorieB, mines,
fields, and offices, are rebelling every day in ways of
their own invention. Sometimes their struggles are on a
small personal scale. More effectively, they are the ac
tJOn of groups, formal or informal, but always unof-
""""""""""PPPP"PP"PPPPPj1 -Qlr:g:a.l nljzZAd around their WOk and their place of
work. Always the aim is to regain control over their
ovm conditions of life and their relations with one
another. Their strivings, their struggles, their methods
have few chroniclers. They themselves are constantly
attempting various forms of organization, uncertain of
where the struggle is going to end. Nevertheless, they
are imbued with one fundamental certainty, that they
l1ave to destroy the continuously mounting bureaucratic
mass or be themselves destroyed by it.
For some years after the war it seemed that the to
talitarian state, by its control of every aspect of human
11fe, had crushed forever all hopes for freedom, for lib
erty and socialism. Men struggled, but under the belief
that the Welfare State was in reality only a half-way
house to the ultimate totalitarian domination. A sym
bolical date was even fixed when this would be achieved
all over the world, 1984.
Now, however, the Hungarian Revolution has un
covered, for the whole world to see, the goal to which
the struggles against bureaucracy are moving. The Hun
garian people have restored the belief of the Nineteenth
century in progress. They have restored to the revolu
tionary socialist movement the conviction that the fu
ture lies with the power of the working class and the
great masses of the people.
It must never be forgotten that the Hungarian Revo
lution was successful as no other revolution in hiBtory
'as successful. The totalitarian state was not merely
defeated. It was totally destroyed and the counter
rEvolution crushed. It is the totality O the success which

ITHOILCT1ON
elabled the workers to do so much before the revolu
tlOn
.
was robbed of its victory by Russian tanks from
outsIde
:
What then was the great achievement of th
revolutlOn?
e
By he total uprising of a people, the Hungarian
RevolutIOn has disclosed the political form which not
only est7'oyS the bureaucratic state power, but substi
utes In Its place a socialist democracy, based not on
the
.
ontrol of leople but on the mastery of thil.gs. This
polltIcal form IS the Workers Councils, embracing the
W10le
.
of the working population from bottom to top,
oma?Ized at th
.
e source o! all power, the place of wol'k,
makmg all deCIsions in the shop or in the office.
I. THE 'ORKERS COUNCILS
HUNGARY
The secret of the Workers Councils is this. From the
very start of the Hungarian Revolution, these shop floor
organizations of the workers demonstrated such con
scious mastery of the needs, processes, and inter-rela
tions of production, that they did not have to exercise
any domination over ]O]. That mastery is the only
basis of political power against the bureaucratic state.
JI is the very essence of any government which is to be
based upon general consent and not on force . The ad
ministration of things by the Workers Councils estab
lIshed a basic coherence in society and from this coher
ence they derived automatically their right to govern.
,Vorkers' management of production, government from
below, and government by consent have thus been
shown to be one and the same thing.
The actual resort to arms has obscured the social
transformation that took place from the first day of the
revolution. Along with the fighting the workers took
over immediate control of the country. So complete was
their mastery of production that large bodies of men,
dispersed over wide areas, could exercise their control
v;ith the strategy of a general deployi g troops, and
YEt with the flexibility of a single craftsman guiding his
tools. The decision to carry out a general strike was
not decreed by any center. Simultaneously and spon
taneously in all industrial areas of the country, the de
CISion not to work was taken, and the strike organized
itself immediately according to the objective needs of
the revolutionary forces. On the initiative of the Work
ers Councils in each plant, it was possible to come to a
general decision, immediately acceptable to all, as to
who should work and who should not work, where the
goods produced should go and where they should not go.
No central plan was needed
.
The plan ,vas within each
individual factory. General strikes have played a deci
sive role in bringing down governments in every modern
revolution, but never before has the general been ini
tiated and controlled so completely by the particular.
It was not merely unity against the common enemy
which made this cohesion possible. The strike, as well as
the whole course of the revolution, demonstrated how
deep were its roots il the mastery over production and
social processes, which is the natural and acquired
power of modern workers.
T
r
l
8 FACING REALTY
IHOLUCTOA IOH USE
All great revolutions have obtained arms from sol
diers who joined the revolution, and by taking",them
from the police and the arsenals of the state. In this
the Hungarian Revolution was no exception
.
The dif
ference is that in Hungary, despite the fact that the
whole army came over to the revolution, the Workers
Councils proceeded immediately to manufacture their
own arms
.
The decision was immediately taken that
these newly-produced arms should be distributed to the
striking workers in other industries who were to with
draw themelves into an army of defense. Production
for use was for them not a theory but an automatic
procedure from the moment they began to govern
themselves.
At a certain stage the Miners' Councils decided t
work in order to keep the mines from flooding. At
another, they inormed the Kadar government precisely
how much they would produce in exchange for precise
political concessions. At the same time they opened
out to all a vision of the future by stating boldly and
confidently that once all their political demands were
realized, they would produce at a rate that would as
tonish the world. Thus they established that the secret
of higher productivity is self-government in production.
Previous revolutions have concentrated on the seiz
ure of political power and only afterwards faced the
problems of organizing production according to new
procedures and method'. The great lesson of the years
1923-1956 has been this, that degradation in production
re}ations results in the degradation of political relations
and from there to the degradation of all relations in
society. The Hungarian Revolution has reversed this
process. A a result of the stage reached by modem in
dustry and its experience uder the bureaucratic lead
ership of the Party and it Plan, the revolution from
the very beginning seized power in the process of pro
duction and from there organized the political power.
The Workers Councils did not look to governments
to carry out their demands. In the Hungarian Revolu
tion the Workers Councils not only released the politi
cal prisoners, as in all revolutions. They immediately
rehired them at their old plants without loss of pay.
Even while they were demanding that the governent
abolish the sYtem of nors and quotas, they were
themselves establishing how much work should be done
a.nd by whom, in accordance with what was needed.
They demanded increases in wages, but they assumed
the responsibility not only for paying wages but for
THE WORKERS COUNCILS
9
increasing them by 10%. From the moment that they
took the apparatus of industry under their control, th
.
ey
began to tear off the veils which hide the essential
simplicity of the modern economy.
GOVERNENT BY THE PEOPLE
The parties, the administrators and he plnners
have claimed always that without them socIety WIll cl
lapse into anarchy and chaos. The Workers CouncIls
recognized the need for an official center and for 8
head of state. Early in the revolution, because they be
lIeved Nagy to have the confidence of the peopl
.
e, they
proposed that he assue the national eadershiP. But
the Councils finished once and for all wlth the delega
tion of powerS to a center while the population r
.
etreats
into passive obedience. Thus the Workers CouncIls and
thE Nagy governent were not a dual power in the
classical sense of that phrase. The Nagy gvernmnt
proposed to legalize the revo!uionary ?o
.
unClI by m
corporating them into the eXIstmg admmlstratlOn. The
Workers Councils made it clear, in reply, that they
were the legal administration, and that the pow
.
to
legalize, incorporate, indeed dis-establish
.
n
.
afUClal
center, reBted with them. They drew no dIstmctlOn be
tween the work of production and the work of govern
ment. They decided who should OCCUpy governent
posts, who should be dismissed,
.
which ministries should
be retained, which should be dIssolved.
.
Evervone knows that the revolution attacked WIthout
mercy the infamous Stalinist secret police. But peple
have not concerned
.
themselves with the far

re I
portant judicial actIOns of the Workers CounLs. It TS
traditional with revolutions to place on n
.
al those
members of the old regime whom popular opmlOn hods
most responsible for its crimes. In the lastwenty-fIve
years, however, the trials of political
.
enemIes anven
geance against them have become mseparable
.
m the
public mind from the brutalities of the totahtanan and
imperialistic states. Conscious that
.
they
.
reprsented
B new social order, and never forgettmg, In
.
theIr own
words, why they were fighting, the Hunganan revol:
tionaries renounced terror and vengeance. Charact
.
en?
tically they carried out their judicial fuctIO? wlthl?
the framework of the plant itself. The Counclls constI
tuted themselves into courts to discus, one by one, the
directors of the plant, the trade union officials, and the
party officials, to decide which 1houlbe expelld from
the plant and which allowed to remam. They dIssolved
and destroyed the records of the personnel departments
I FACING REALITY
which had become, as in pla. nts the world over, centers
of blacklisting and spying.
THE END OF THE POLITICAL PARTY
One of the greatest achievements of the Hungarian
Revolution was to destroy once and for all the legend
that the working class cannot act succeslfully except
under the leadership of a political party. It did all that
it did precisely because it was not under the leadership
of a political party. If a pOlitical party had existed to
lead the revolution, that political party would have led
the revolution to disaster, as it has led every revolution
to disaster dUi"ing the last thirty years. There was lead
ership on all sides, but there was no party leading it.
No party in the world would have dared to lead the
country into a counter-attack in the face of thousands
of Russian tanks. Nothing but an organization in close
contact with the working class population in the factory,
and which therefore knew and felt the strength of the
population at every stage, could have dared to begin
the battle a second time. still later, after the military
battle had been lost, no organization except Workers
Councils would have dared to start a general strike
and carry it on for five weeks, unquestionably the most
astonishing event in the whole history of revolutionary
struggles.
In these unprecedented examples of leadership the
Workers Councils put an end to the foolish dreams,
disasters, and despair which have attended all those
who, since 1923, have placed the hope for socialism O
the elite party, whether Communist or Social-Democrat.
The political party, as such, whatever type it il, consti
tutes essentially a separation of the organizing intellec
tuals and workers with an instinct for leadership, from
the masses as force and motive power. As long as the
real centers of administration were the private capi
talists in their varioul spheres, the apparatus of gov
ernment was relatively simple. Political parties as such
CGuid represent the opposig classes and in their con
flicts with one another and their bid for popular sup
port, clarify the choices before society, and educate the
population as a whole. But with the growth of large
scale production, the state apparatul controls the na
tional economy in fact, and whichever paty comes to
power inherits and becomes the agent of an existing
a.pparatus.
Control over production means first and foremost
control over the workers, and the modern state can'
function only if the decisive trade unions are incor-
THE WORKERS COUNCILS
pOl'ated into it, or are prepared at critical moments lC
submit to it. The powerful labor organizations, there
fore, by their very existence, must SUPPl'elS those crea
tIVe energies which the reconstitution of society demands
f!Om the mass of the people. The Workers Councils in
Hungary instructed the workers to put aside party affil
iutions and elect their delegates according to their
judgment of them as workers in the plant. At the same
time no worker was dilcriminated against either in his
work or in his election to the Workers Councils because
of his party affiliations. The traditional political par
ties take their political differences into tl1e factories,
treaking the unity of the workers according to these
divisions. They make of individual workers representa
tIVes of a political line, cm-rupting relations between
people by transforming them into relations of political
rivalry. Once the powers of government were with the
shop floor organizations, the objective relations of the
labor process provided all the discipline required. On
the basis of that objective discipline, the widest variety
of views and idiosyncracies could not only be tolerated
but welcomed.
So confident were the Workers Councils that the
,"orkers' mastery over production would be decisive in
the solution of all important questions, that they pro
posed a great Party of the Revolution. This was to in
Clude all who had taken part in the revolution, the
clerical and petty-bourgeois Right, former members of
the Small Proprietors Party, Social-Democrats and Com
munists. Before these and other proposals could be
'orked out and tried, the Russian tanks suppressed the
revolution.
Once the Hungarian people erupted spontaneously,
tbe rest followed with an organic necesSity and a com
pleteness of self-organization that distinguishes this
revolution from all previous revolutions and marks it
a.s specifically a revolution of the middle of the Twen
tieth Century. So obviously were the Workers Councils
the natural and logical alternative to the totalitarian
state, that the traditional demand for a Constituent
Alsembly or Convention to create a new form of gov
ernment, was not even raised. So deep is the conscious
ness in modern people that organization of production
is the basis of society, that the whole population mo
bilized itself around the Workers Councils as the natural
gove ent.
It is not excluded that in their search for ways and
means to organize a new state, political partiel might
J7 FACIG REALITY
have been formed. But with the state founded on Work
ers Councils, no political parties could assume the pow
ers, suppress the people, or make the mischief that we
have seen from all of them in the last thirty years.
WORKERS AND INTELLIGENTSIA
Capitalism has created and steadily deepened the
glf between workers and the intelligentsia (technicians
and intellectuals). These have been incoporated by
capitalism into the directing apparatus of industry
and the state. There they administer and discipline
the working population. The Hungarian workers,. con
scious that technicians are part of the labor process,
gave to technicians and intellectuals their place on the
Workers Councils. The majority on the Councils were
fittingly production workers, who comtitute the majo
l'ity in the plant itself. But in these all-inclusive Work
ers Councils, the technician could be functionally re
lated to the activities and attitudes of the plant com
Iunity, instead of being isolated from the mass of the
people, as he is on both sides of the Iron Curtain today.
In previous revolution, particularly the Russian, it
wa; necessary to state and restate and underline the
pGwer of the working class. The very emphasis testified
to the weakness of the proletariat in the social structure
of the nation. The modern world has understood, after
three decades of bitter experience, that the socialist
revolution is a national revolution. Recognied at home
and abroad 8 the leader of the nation, the Hungarian
workers called for the establishment of "Workers Coun
ci1; in every branch of the national activity." Thus not
only white colla workers in offices, but all goverent
enlployees, includig the police, should have their own
Councils.
The Hungarian intellectUals heroically defied Stal
inism. Yet even after the revolution began, all that
they could demand 8 the democratization of the Party
and the government, freedom of speech, honesty in plac
ing the economic situation before the people, Nagy in
power, etc. Within a week they had come to the con
clusion that the Workers Councils should form the
government of the county with Zoltan Kodaly. the
composer, 8 president because of his great national and
international reputation. It wa the Hungarian workers
and not they who showed the form for the new society.
" FARMERS AN THE WORKERS
The Hungaria peasants showed how far society
has progressed in the last 30 years. They broke up the
collective farms which were in reality factories in the
G
U
O
V
Hungary 1956
TE WORKERS COUNCILS 13
field, owned and ru by the state, the Party. and the
Plan. But at the same time they immediately organized
themselves to establish contact with the workers and
others in the towrs on the basis of social need. They
organized theil' trucks to take them food, did not wait
O be paid but went back to the countryside to bring in
new loads, risking their lives to do so.
So confident were they that the only power against
the totalitarian state was the workers, that the peasants
did not wait to see if the workers would guarantee them
the land before committing themselves to the active
support of the Workers Councils. What revolutionary
governments have usually striven in vai to win, the
confidence of the peasants, was here achieved i re
verse-the peasant took all risks in order to show his
confidence in the worker.
These objectively developed relations of cooperation
have now passed into the subjective personality of peo
ple, their instinctive responses and the way they act.
Released from the fear that art and literature must
serve only politics, sensing all aroUhd them the expan
sion of human needs, human capacities, and cooperation,
the Hungarian people created twenty-five new news
papers overnight, the older artists and the younger tal
ents pouring out news, articles, stories, and poems, in a
flood -tide of artistic energy.
WORKERS AND FOREIGN AFFAIRS
The Hungarian Workers Councils not only made ap
peals to the Russian troops to cease fire and go home.
They entered into negotiations and made direct arrange
ments with Russian commanders to retire. At least one
Council not only negotiated the removal of a garrison
of Russian troops but arranged for it to be supplied
with food. This was not just fraternization. It was the
assumption of responsibility by the Workers Councils
fnr foreign affairs. The simplicity with which the nego
tiations were carried out reflects the education which
the post-war world has received in the futile bickering
a,nd cynical propagandizing of cease-fire conferences in
Korea, Big Four meetings in London and Paris. and
Big Two meetings in Geneva. Russian trops mutinied
and deserted to fight under the command of the Hun
garian Councils. When the hospital at Debrecen radioed
its needs for iron lugs, the Workers Councils at Miskolc
undertook to get these from West Germany and by radio
organied the landing of the lung-bearing plane at the
Debrecen airport. The Hungarian Revolution transcend
ed that combination of threats, snarls, lies, hypocrisy,
i4 FACING REALITY
and brutality which today appear under the headlines
of foreign affairs.
The Hungarian people welcomed such medical aid
and supplies as they received from abroad. But, as they
explained to their Czech brothers, it was not assistance
Ul charity which they needed as much as understanding
by the world that they fought not only for themselves
but for Europe. To a world which is constantly being
offered bribes of economic aid and promises of a higher
standa.rd of living, these word ring with a new morality.
The Hungarian people were not begging for handouts
from the Romanian, Serb, or Slovak worker. They
V0TUG them to join in the common ltruggle for a new
society.
The neutrality which the Hungarian people demand
ed WG5 not the neutrality of a Switzerland. The revolu
tion 1BG D fact begun by a mass demonstration of
solidarity with the Poles. They did not want their coun
try to be the battleground of the struggle between
JUf!1C and Russia for mastery of the world, but they
themselves were prepared to lay down their lives in the
struggle to build a new society, side by side with the
other peoples of Europe on both west and Ealt.
The urgent appeals for arms in the final days of
the military battle, the voices fading from the radio
\\1I cries for help, must be seen against this awareness
by the Hungarian population that they were in the
forefront of a world movement to build a new civiliza
tion, as profoundly different from American materialism
as from Russian totalitarianism. Such confidence in the
ideals and aiml by which men live can come in the
modern world only from a material foundation. The ma
terial foundation of the Hungarian workers was their
nntural and acquired capacity to organize production,
and their experience of the centralized Plan and the
whole bureaucratic organization which has reached it
ultimate in the One-Party State but which is character
istic of modern society the world over.
Helpless before this new civilization, so weak in logis
ticE; but so powerful in appeal to the peoples of the
world, aware that it is just below the surface in all
Europe and is ready to destroy both American and Rus
sian imperialism, the. western Powers hesitated for
moment and then turned their vast propaganda ma
chine to one single aim, to transform the content of the
Hungarian Revolution into a problem of refugees. The
poor, the needy, the supplicating, the weak, and helpless.
these the American Welfare State can deal with by
THE WORKERS COUNCILS I5
charity and red tape. Thus, as in the East, Russia ap
plied herself to the lystematic destruction of the Work
ers Councils by deportation to labor camps, the Ameri
can government in the West began the break-up by
organizing refugee camps. The Hungarian people have
not been deceived by this characteristic American
maneuver. The failure of the Hungarian Revolution
they have placed squarely at the door of both the Rus
sian and the American governments.
THE VICTORY WAS COMPLETE
The complete withdrawal of the Russian troops from
2.11 Hngary was on the surface a national demand. But
in reality, that is, in the concrete circumstances, the
wrlOle population realized that the Ruslian tanks were
the only force inside the country able to crush the
Workers Coucils. To speak of a civil war between
Right and Left in Hungary once the Russian troops had
left, in the classical style of national revolutions, is to
misunderstand completely the stage to which the mas
tery of production by the workers has reached in mod
ern 'ociety and the understanding of this by the whole
population.
In the Hungarian Revolution there was no divorce
between immediate objectives and ultimate aims, be
tween instinctive action and conscious purpose. Work
ing, thinking, fighting, bleeding Hungary, never for a
moment forgot that it was incubating a new society,
not only for Hungary but for all mankind. In the midst
of the organization of battle, the Workers Councils or
ganized political discussions not only of the position
of the particular plant in relation to the total struggle,
but of the aims which the councils should achieve. They
carried on incessant political activity to root out the
political and organizational remnants of the old l'eg'ime
and work out new politics. They knew that the danger
to the Workers Councils ay, not in the middle classes
oDtside the factory, but from the state, the Communist
Party, and the trade union bureaucrats, all trying to
remove the power from the shop floor. At the very be
ginning of the revolution, the Gero government, l'ecog
njzing that the party and the unions had collapsed,
called upon the party cadres i the plants to form
ccuncill and mobilize them against the revolutionary
population in the streets. The workers in the streets
returned to the factories, threw out the party cadres
and re-elected their own Councils on the shop floor.
Then they issued the annoucement, "We have been
elected by the workers and not by the government."
l8 FACING REALITY
was the most fossiiized and bureaucratic of all the or
ganizations which made up the Staliist system.
THE WORKERS TAKE OVER
But it was not a question merely of getting rid of
Stalinists, Stalinist bureaucrats, labor bureaucrats, and
their persecution of the ranks. The economic life of the
country had to go on, and the Workers Councils pro
ceeded to assume responsibility for this by completely
dIscarding the State Plan except as a general guide, and
tbemselves carrying out the negotiations from factory
to factory. While Khrushchev turns the Russian econ
omy uPside down in a desperate search for means to
make it viable, and theoretical men of good-will break
their heads in the search for plan without bureaucracy.
the Polish workers simply took over the plants where
they had worked all their lives. That alwaY will be the
only way to organize a national economy.
It was such councils of Polish workers which org'an
ized the Poznan revolt. It was these same Workers
Councils which mobilized themselves in the plants over
the October 19 weekend, and stood ready with arms in
hand to support Gomulka and the Central Committee
of the Polish Party in their defiance of Khrushchev.
The Russians retreated. Gomulka is in power. All
visitors report absence of fear among the Polish people,
the lively discussions going on, and the readiess on
the part of all to discuss freely with foreigners. That
all this exists i' due to the power which the Workers
Councils exercise inside the plant. The central problem,
however, remains. How is the economy, reduced to such
chaos by the Party and the Plan, to be put on its feet
again? Gomulka faces the insoluble problem which
will lead inevitably either to the intituting of 8 Gov
ernment of Workers Councils or once more to plain
and open domination by Russia.
With all the good-will in the world and despite the
dismissal of bureaucrats, Poland remains a country run
by the Party but this time without any Plan, and tbe
Plan is inseparable from the elite party. That is bow
the contemporary Polisb State was built, and slowly the
whole bureaucratic formation is re-asserting itself. Go
mulka stands half-way, with a working class in action
in many spheres but above it a bureaucracy which is
recovering its strengtb and is determined to re-assert
itself, whether under Gomulka or any other leader.
This is of extreme importance, for the Polish Commu
nist Party, under the pressure of the people and the
THE WORKERS COUNCILS
9
workers, did try to refoJ'm itself. It failed, as all re
forms of totalitarian states are bound TO fail.
That is the Poland of Gomulka today. Back to sta
linism or forward to the revolution of the Polish work
ers for socialism, that is to say, the Government of
'Vorkers Councils.
There are some (and they even call themselves Malx
ists) who admit the creative power of the Hungarian
Revolution, but prophesied for it failure and degenera
tion, even if it had not been crushed by Russian tanks.
The road that Poland is traveling so rapidly should in
struct them that it is the half-hearted attack OT TC
Party and the Plan which produces degeneration. Theil'
total destuction is the only guarantee of a future.
Workers Councils in every department of the national
activity, a Government of Workers Councils, are not
ends in themselves. They are means to an end. They
will result in one procedure in one country, and other
proced\I'es in other countries. They neither automati
cally reject, nor automatically include democratic elec
tions on a territorial or industrial basis; Ol' both com
bined; or each for a period of trial. They would be
one thing in Hungary, something else in the United
States, and something else again in Britain or Japan.
But under all circumstances they would be the political
form in whicb the great masses of the people would be
able to bring their eneJ'gies to fulfill their destiny, in
accordance with their economic structure, their past
history, and their consciousness of themselves.
II. THE ,\HO L E "ITORLD
This is the fundamental political question of the
day: The Government of Workers Councils, w h i c
sprang so fully and completely from the revolutionary
c:isis of Hungary, was it only a historical accident, pe
culiar to totalitarianism, or is it the road of the futue
fo:!' all society? Actually, in the United States, with
the most advanced techology in the world, there exists
more than in any other country the framework and
forces for a Government of Workers Councils. The out
side world haS been bluffed and bamboozled by Ameri
can prop!ganda and American movies. Politically-mind
ed people outside the United States, scannig the Amer
ican social horizon, bewail the absence of a mass so
cialist party and a politically-indoctrinated union move
ment. American intellectuals and radicals do the same.
They are constantly looking for political parties, po
litical allegiances, and political slogans of the old type.
They find none because the American workers are look
ing for none. The struggle in America is between man
agement, supervision, and the union bureaucrats on the
one side and the shop floor organizations on the other.
If any one national struggle can be pi-pointed as the
one on which the future fate of the world depends, it
J$ this struggle, and the American workers hold all the
cards.
THE UNITED STATES
In 1955 Walter Reuther won, and made all prepara
tions to celebrate, one of his usual great victorieB
the Guaranteed Anual Wage. The press was summoned,
the television cameras were i position, when suddenly
8 general strike of the Ford and General Motors work
ers exploded from coast to coast. It was a strike ag'ainst
Reuther and the union. The slogan of the strike in
plant after plant bore the extremely modest title of
"local grievances." The great celebration of the Guar
anteed Annual Wage ended with a whimper. The local
managements made such terms with the workers as
they could. The result of the nation-wide engagement
was a draw, the battle beginning again the very next
cay.
20
2 EOIE WOR 2I
Ony one more example need be given here. In the
U. S. Rubber Plant i Detroit during the 16 months
prior to April 1956, there were on the average two wild
cat stoppages a week. The Rubber Union is powerless
to stop them.
That is the abiding situation in thousands of plants
all over the United States. It is no secret. Since the
war over a hundred stUdies by industrial psychologists
have appeared, seeking in vain to find some means of
controlling and disciplining these workers. Pension
plans, guaranteed annual wage, wage increaBes, sick.
benefits, all these the unions win, promising in return
to discipline the working class, i. e. , to force it to submit
lO the schedules of production B planned by the em
ployers. The only result has been to discredit the union
leadership and to range it definitely with management
and supervision as one of the enemies of the working
class.
The trade union apparatus acts as the bodyguard of
capital. Conducting all negotiations with management,
pl'ocessing all grievances through its elaborate grievance
procedure, it sits at the bargainig table in a hierarchy
of posts parallel at every level with that of management.
III an American plant the shop steward or the com
mitteeman represents not the workers, but the union
apparatus. He is bound by the elaborate contract gov
erning all issues of production which the union lead
ership signs in return for wage increases, pension plans,
etc. The committeeman is responsible to the union and
to management for the canying out of this contract.
The result is that in the vast majority of iSsues involv
ing actual methods of work, the workers have learned
to bypass the union and utilize their ow knowledge of
production and of the organic weakness of management
to gain their ends.
Under the conditions of modern industry, produc
tion holds no mystery for the workers. Cooperation ra
ther than competition i in the nature of the work
itelf. Because of the rhythm which the worker has
developed in himself and in the group with which he
IS working, he is able to devise and perfect a work and
social schedule of his own. The workers decide the
pace of the line or bring it 'to a stop by ways and means
which it is impossible for supervision to detect. This
schedule gets the work done, but it also creates free
time for rest, relaxation around the plant, looking over
different jobs and new machines, and visiting friends.
Management knows that the workers are doig all this,
?2 FACING REALITY
but where the workers in a plant are powerfully or
ganized, it stays out of their way as much as possible.
The situation i too delicate. Any issue, however slight,
!B} cause an explosion.
It is freedom to organize their work as they please
combined with all sorts of details, such as smoking Ol
the job, the condition of the rest room, not working
when it is too hot, which pass undeJ.' the title of "local
grievances." What the phrase really signifies in the
large American plants is the determination of workers
. to run the plants to suit themselves and not the man
agement.
Naturally, the workers, even when solidly organized,
OD not have it all their own way. Management counter
attacks at every opportunity. 'he result is that produc
tion, the most important business of society, is at the
mercy of this gigantic, disruptive, and unceasing con
fliet. Every year in the automobile plants there is 3
period when the models are changed. At this time the
l'Eal chaos of American production and its root cause
become patent. Plans and new machinery which have
been elaborated for months i the offices are intro
euced. Supervision seizes the opportunity to try to re
Ftore its damaged authority. The foreman places work
ers where he wishes, being concerned chiefly w i t h
breaking up old groups and reorganizing the plant, not
for production but for discipline. The result is disor
ganization, turmoil, and chaos (and production of cars
that auto workers know better than to buy), until the
workers, for their own comfort and ease of work, get
together and restore some order into the plant.
The much-lauded know-how of American manage
ment is a myth, and the superiority of American man
agement is due entirely to the heavy investment i capi
tal and the order which American workers introduce
into the plant to suit themselves. When the plans for
new machinery are introduced into the plant, they can
not be applied at all unless the workers take them in
charge and apply them in the way they think best. Pro
duction i a modern plant is based upon cooperation,
not upon authority, and cooperation is essentially a
problem of human relations. The strategy and tactics
of the workers spring from the fact that all productivity
and progress in the plant depend upon them.
WHAT WIDCATS SIGNIFY
The realities of life iside the American factory
drive relentlessly to one overpowering conclusion. This
conclUsion i that management and supervision have
THE WHOLE WORLD
now become as much an anachronism as a. feudal land
lord or a slave driver on a cotton plantation. Manage
ment, supervision, foremen are the chief source of dis
order and disruption in production. Millions of Ameri
can workers know that if they were left to themselves
to organize the plants in their own way, they would
work out their own schedules of production, lessen their
hours, raise production to undreamed of heights, enor
mously increase their own knowledge and capacity, and
have a wonderful time in the plant. They know that
they can arrange work for women in relation to their
special skills and household duties, find suitable tasks
fOJ: the aged or the handicapped, work hard when it is
required and take it easy at other times. That is pre
cisely what has always been understood to be socialist
relations of production. American workers, like workers
everywhere, are not dominated by the desire not to
work. But the cooperation and the discipline that hav
been nstilled into them by large scale machinery have
been turned into bitterness and frustration by the capi
talist nature of production.
For the time being, their energies and powers are
for the most part used in resistance, either in the plant
or' by walking out on the slightest excuse-the wildcat
strike. Wildcats are a constant defiance and rejection
of the capitalist system and of the union bureaucracy
which has tied its fortunes to' capitalism. Nothing that
management or the union does can stop them. Wild
ca,ts are the ever-present reminder of what the AmeJ."ican
workers think of the economic system under which they
live.
Unable to control the workers, either in its own name
or through the union, management i the United States
has embarked on a huge program of automation. As if
driven by devils, the large corporations have begun to
invest billions in new equipment, frantically scrapping
still useful machinery, headlining each new expansion
with speeches about progress. At the same time thous
ands are being laid off and those still in the shop are
working three and four days a week, building new mod
els, while the just completed models are still resting
unsold and rusting in dealer lots. In the auto industry
the production schedules see-saw back and forth like
the front lines of a battle, with management obviously
in the grip of forces beyond it control.
This unending conflict with management, the con
stant uncertainty of life, the futility of the union, all
are forcig millions of American workers, and the auto
2# FACING REALITY
worker in particular, to positive perspectives which b,Y
pass political parties and touch the very heart of Amer
ican society:
1) That the decisions on scheduling of production
as a whole, when there should be model changeovers,
and whether or not there should be, whether or not new
equipment should be introduced and when, these vital
decisions can no longer be left to management. Only
the workers can and must organize this.
2) That the only way to keep everybody at work is
for everything to be produced for use and not for the.
market.
AUTOMATION AND THE TOTAL CRISIS
Already grappling with these perspectives, American
workers could hardly be expected to take seriously the
officia view that today's economic crisis is an ordinary
commercial crisis. Their whole pat experience hs
taught them that, precipitated by the unending con
fllct in production between maagement and the work
ers, a new stage of technology is emerging-automa
tion.
Automation as a stage in technology is still young.
While it has existed in a few specific industries for some
time, it is only in the 1950s that it has begun to domi
nate American industry and all forms of economic or
ganization, even penetrating into the craft. So gradual
has been its invasion that only now is the general pub
lic beginning to suspect the l'evolution in all rpects of
human life that automation compels.
What is coming to an end is the stage of mass pro .
dnction by assembly line workers. The assembly
line is itelf the lat maj.or barrier to automation i i
dustry. The essence of the assembly line is that it cr
ates a demand for manual dexterity but at the same
time organizes and controls this dexterity to the high
est degree by mean of the belt. The esence of automa
tion is that it replaces manual dexterity altogether by
electronic controls. Electronics is now taking the plae
of the human being in bringing together and control
ling hydrauliC, pneumatics, and mechanics.
Only a few decades ago assembly line production
put thousands and thousands of workers under a single
roof and thus created the conditions for the new mas
organization of the idustrial union. I sheer self
defense the assembly line workers created the CIO t
protect the human beig from being completely de
stroyed by the machine. Without thi intervention by
L
2 WHOLE WORLD
the workers, the assembly line under the control of
capitalism continues its relentless momentum, indepen
dent of all human cop.ideration B to the wearines of
the person or his physical and other needs. But today
the industrial union is as helpless in the face of auto
mation as the assembly line method of production
itself.
In general, automation started with idustries deal
ing in liquids and chemicals, e.g., petroleum, soda pop,
milk, beer, because in such indutries the materials are
homogeneous and can flow, and production is chieflY
R process of heat, chemicals, piping, and bottling. Today
the oil refinery ad the electricity supply industry are
the closest to being completely automated. From there
automation moved to the mills because here again raw
metals needed large containers and the application of
heat and chemicals for their refining. The crucial stage
"as reached in the 1950s when automation bame firm
1 established in the industries fabricating metals. This
in the United States means the auto idustry frst and
foremost, and it was i the auto industry that the term
"automation" came into being to describe the linking
of machine tools by electronic controls. The next stage
of its invasion is in the fabrication of fabrics, e.g., rub
ber and textiles. Because these materials are flexible,
they require more manual dexterity and therefore a
higher technique before automation can take over.
Automation i' now moving rapidly from one Ameri
can idustry to another, and within each industry from
partial to more complete automation. Its technical bais
was already being created during World War I, but the
expansion of production during the war ad pent-up
shortages delayed its introduction on a wide scale in the
jmmediate postwar years. Today, however, there is no
baJrier to automation. It is even invading such fields
as tooling where it was once believed that it would be
uneconomical. Already it is possible to send blueprint
by teletype from one city to another, a tracig tape at
tached to the machie reproducing the tool according
to given specifications on the blueprint.
Up to now every new stage in technology has been
t.he basis for an expansion in the needs of manpower.
After each crisis in Which the old means of production
were scrapped, the labor force expanded. Automation
! that stage of technology which under capitalism for
the first time will not create a need for more manpower
regardless of the maS of products produced. Now soci-
26 FACING REALITY
ety faces for the first time what Karl Marx called
"putting the majority of the population on the shelf."
In a particular plant employing 5000, only 500 or 10%
will be needed in five years to produce B much 8 is
now produced by the 5000. The percentage will vary
from industry to industry and the elimination of man
pnwer will come sooner in some industries than in oth
ers. But what is going to happen to the 90%? Obviously
no ordinary solution i possible.
When automation hit the auto industry in the 1950s,
it not only hit the idustry on which one out of every -
six jobs in the United states depends directly or indi
rectly. It also hit hundreds of thousands of w 0 r k e r S
whose daily life inside the shop for the last twenty
years has centered around a ba.ttle with management
for control over the machine. Hence while the econo
mists and politicians of government, industry, and the
union have been babbling about wages, pen'ions, and
profits, every new machine has been greeted by auto
workers and their families with fundamental questions
about who should control production. Today's criis is
driving them to expand the very meaning of that con
tl ol.
Up to now the whole life of the majority of the popu
la tion has been geared to work. To the working man
\vorkiilg and living have been one and the same. Now
he finds that as a result of automation wmk i' being
taken away from him and he feels that he is being
robbed not only of what enables him to live but of his
very existence as a human being. Capitalism itself has
forced the majority of the population into the position
where they have no other role than that of workers.
Now, with automation, capitalism is robbing the majo
rity of the population of the only role they have been
permitted.
When millions of young people have no idea whether
they will ever have a job and lie in bed half the day
because they don't know what to do with themselves,
that i' a system committing suicide. When the majority
of the population has no place to work and can ony
look forward to more unemployment, that is the total
collapse of a society.
That is the crisis which American workers foresee and
seek to forestall. No worker i' against automation as
such. He recognizes that automation creates the possi
bility of such a development of the productive forces
that no one anywhere need ever live in want again.
THE WHOLE WORLD 27
That meam more to workers than it means to anyone
else. But at the same time automation is forcing every
worker to reexamine the very mar1er of his life as B
human being simply in order to answer the question
of how he shall exist at all.
The CIO is completely incapable of riSing to this
new situation. It originated in the period when produc
tion was being expanded by the expansion of manpower.
At its best it only defended the workers from the speed
of the line, leaving all deci'ions as to the scheduling
and control of production to the capitalists. Today wben _
capitalist control of automation is threatening the
collapse of society, the CIO continues to demand a
share with the capitalists in the control OYI the work
ers, leaving to the capitalists the right to schedule
and control total production.
It is from the growing realization that society faces
total collapse that has arisen the determination of
American worker' to take the control of total produc tion
l,way from the capitalists and ito their own handl. Up
to now American workers have only organized to defend
themselves from the machine inside the individual fac
tories. Now, in defense of all society, they are being
driven to organiZe themselves to regulate total produc
tion.
Up to now the concept of who governs society has
been based OJ the idea that different parties and
groupings battle with one another over who should
control the workers. But control by the workers of pro
ciuction schedules and of the process of production in
side society means that govermnent must originate in
side the plant. Thus automation creates the conditions
for abolishing all previous distinctions between political
control and economic controL No longer is it possible
TO think only in terms of changing leaders or parties.
Production as a whole can only be controlled by the
producers as a whole in their shop floor organizations.
Thus, far more than in any other country, the a.utoma
tion of industry in the United states is creating the ac
tual conditions for a Government of Workers Councils.
THE AMERICAN WORKERS' WAY
The workers do not pose the perspective of their
control a.s a conscious program. But it is inherent in
all their actions and in the discussions they hold among
themselves. Only people consumed with hate and fear
of socialism can believe that the Hungarian worker;, did
the things that they did UT the spur of the moment ;
Z8 FACIG REA
they could act as they did only because they had for
years meditated upon and discussed among themselves
how they wanted production to be organized and soci
ety to be run. The Depression made everybody i the
United states recognize the capitalist economy as U
system functioning according to l aws which were outside
the control of human beings. I that sense, political
economy first came into existence in the United states
with the Depression. But with the diorder of auto
mation twenty-five year later, this fatalistic view of
the laws of production has been turned on its head. In
its place there has grown up the conviction that it i
the present organizers of production, the state and man
agement, who cannot contrl production but are con
trolled by it. They, the workers, on the other hand, have
the ability to control not only individual machines but
the whole process, method, ad tempo, by means of
which machinery i to be developed and put into use.
They have not been taught this by any political elite.
They have learned it from experience. It is from there
that they begin to visualize a new society.
Just as the Hungarian upheaval took all the political
pundits and mourers by surprise, so the future course
of American society will overwhelm them. All the dy
namic energy of American society, its ruthlessness, its
freedom from traditional restraints, its social audacity
( which was ready to attempt Pohibition by legislation) ,
these national characteristics are now concentrated in
the American working class far more than in any other
section of society. But among the workers, the American
g'eniU's is united, disciplined, and organized by the very
mechanism of modern production itself. All analyses
and perspectives of American society as a whole
'
( and
we shall go into that later) must begin from the Amer
ican working class. The most astonishing feature of it is
that, undominated by any organized philosophy of life
( the American historians having failed most conspicu
ously to create any) ; indifferent to theories of socialism
and Communism and the blandishments of political
theorists ; profoundly disillusioned with unionism-it has
created the basis of a philosophy of life of its own. This
t that it can manage production, that to do so is its
inalienable right, that the secret of a happy life is mas
tery over machinery and production, and that the rest
can be easily managed.
American workers are not certain of their ultiate
aims, nor of the end towards which they are heading.
They are indifferent to Socialist Parties or Communist
THE WHOLE WORLD
Parties in the traditional sense, but under the pressure
of a crisis the idea of Workers Councils or a Govern
ment of Worker Councils will not be i the slightest
degree alien to them.
I is obvious that the workig class nowhere is so
organized as to win a continuous series of victories. Ac
cording to the structure of the plant, the strength of
its traditions, the relation of the industry to other in
dustries, and various other consideratioIl, the workers
are often defeated, and on occasions even routed. They
sometimes win great victories. What can be stated cate
gorically is that the struggle is continuous and from
the very organization of production, the working class
especially in large and highly organized plants holm
is own and on the whole continuously capture posi
tIons from management and supervision. Each side
whenever it thinks it has the possibility of pushing th
enemy back, advances to the attack. One thing how
ever, is certain. The accounts of wage increass and
variou other arrangements which get into the press
as a llution . to any particulaJ' open engagement. paint
no true picture of the actual situation in any plant or
industry. In reality. as soon as the agreement is signed
eac side goes back into the plant and the struggl
begms all over again irrespective of agreements, and
related solely to the particular strength of the combat
ants at any particular time.
There is no need to make prophecies. But in all the
blindness, the violence, confusion, and despairs of mod
ern American society, it should be obvious that the same
forces which produced the 'orkers Councils in Hungary
10 only exist but are infinitely more developed, i-.
flmtely more powerful in the United States of America,
and for the Simple reason that these forces and ideas
arc the product of capitalism itself.
RUSSIA
Economic relations are relations between peopl e :
who tells whom what to do and how to do it. Property
relations are relations between people and things : who
owns what ; land, facto,ies, mines, ships, etc. These
are basic definitions in the science of political economy
as elaborated by Marx and Engels. But for many years
carried away by the promises of the Plan, the majorit;
of Marxists have forgotten this. That is to say, they for
got who was telling whom what to do and how to do it
in the plant. No one contributed to this more than
Leon Trotsky, whose analysis of Russia was based upon
o0 TCIIG IITITY
the extremely simple and extremely false thesis that
state ownership of property equals workers' state.
This may sound like mere theorizing. 1 reality, it i s
the concentrated expre'ssion of the facts of life embrac
ing hundreds of millions of people. What is the rela
tion between the workers in Russia and the Planners
and supervisors? This, the decisive question, is the last
question that the theorists, the analysts, the leftistl of
all sorts, ever ask. For years they have concerned them
selves, exhausted themselves, with the Party, the Plan,
the statistics of production, the absence of political de
mocracy. Now they have plunged into de-Stalinization,
collective leadership ( true Ol false ) , the decentraliza
tion of industry by Khrushchev, and whether the intel
lectuals and the youth have real freedom to speak O!
oIlly moderate freedom or none at all. The Hungarian
Hevolution has taught them nothing. Important as all
these questions are, they are subordinate to the one
question which has now been posed by the events in
Hungary and in Poland. Has large SCBC industry in
Russia created a working cla'ss which possesses the
mastery over production which resulted in R Govern
ment of Workers Councils in Hungary? Are workers lT
Russia united, disciplined, and organized by production
itself in such a way that they have essentially the
same attitude to management as the workers in the
United States? Have workers in Rus'sia created shop
floor organizations which control production and disci
pline management in much the same vvay as 1DCCBl
vJOl'kers? That is not eVerything but everything begins
from there. And the answer without a shadow of B
cloubt is yes.
Here is the proof from the mouths of the Russian
rulers themselves. The state multiplies bars and barriers
between the Russian people and the outside, but period
ically the rulers have to speak to one another in public,
and although they are the most expert practitioners in
the world at double-talk, the truth about the situation
in the Russian plants comes out clearly. This is Khrush
ebev at the Twentieth Congress of the JUSSDD Com
munist Party OT February 4th, 1956, reporting for the
Central Committee :
It must be pointed out that there is 8 great deal 'of
disorder and confusion in the system of wages and
rate-fixing. Ministries and other bodies, and the
trade lmions have not taken up these matters in
the way they should; they have neglected them.
Cases of wage leveling are not uncommon. LT the
France 1968: Renaul t
I tal y 1 969: Fi at
L
THL WIClL WOBIO 3l
other hand, payment for the same type of work
sometimes differs between various bodies, and even
within a single body. Alongside the low paid work
ers there exists a category of worIerog B small onE
it is true, in whose wages unj ustifiecl exceiises are
tolerated.
Though this S Greek to 0 Russian expert lil\e Isaac
Deutscher, any W0fKPI knows what that means. Th
pl&nners and management plan the quotas foJ piece
work, which is the system that the Russians are USing'
in large scale industry. Just as in the United 8LC$,
C) divide workers into different C9e_ori0S .o as to
creat e rivalry and antagonisms betvveen them. But the
workers make a wreck of this Plan by organizing the
"ork in such a way that all of !C in B partIcular
plant get more or less the .DUE wages. Thus, tllOUgh
the planners plan wag'es on 3 n9tiOIal 8CDJC, wnges
vary not only from i"egion to regioll U from ]DOL to
]8l\. 'hy? Obviously because the strength O the
workers' shop floOT organization in one plant is differ
ent from that in another. Sometimes, l\ seems, inside 0
single plant, the workers in one department DC SO
powerfully organized. that is to :ay, have such an \!-
clcl':,tanding among themselves, that they push up the
wages above the gener:l level of tI,e ]0TI.
There is no need for these shop flool' organizations
to be formally organized. As sOo| 9S t11e men in D de
pa,rtment know one another Rnd go tJlrough the work
together, they are organized. Tl1e planners 0!O manage.
ment have one Plan, and the workers have their OWD,
and in any such conflict, though the managers post
one soldier with B loaded rifle at every i:' I\ pSCes in
the plant, they c8nnot make the worker" OO ,,hat tIley
do not want to do. At the beginning O the industl' iali
z2.tion of Russia, Stalin could uproot millions of back
wa rd peasants, plant them in the |C lC!C:1 and ll0
cities, and drive them like cattle by the most brutal
methods. Today in the large modern factories that !S
impossible. The struggle is permanent and, as in tIl e
United States, the workers hold the winning cards.
'r. Te have stated categorically that in the U n i t e d
Sta tes, management, foremen, and union bureaucrats,
are compelled to recognize the power of the worker.s
on the shop floor, and wherever the workers are well
organized, management and supervision have learned
to leave them alone. If they attempt to force a well
organized body of workers to do this Ol that. the plant
can be thrown into disorder and VOIK goes to pieces .
TJCITG JT1ITY
The sii.ua tion is the same in Russian industry and could
not be otherwise. Khrushchev reports to the Party
Congress :
THE TRADE UNIONS KEEP SILENT
The main thing our Trade Unions organizations,
including the U. S. S. R. Central Council of Trade
Unions, l ack is militancy in their work, creative
fervour, incisiveness, adherence to principle, and
initiative in raising fundamental, vitally important
questions-whether they be measures for increas
ing labor productivity, OI, say, questions relating to
wages, house construction, or catering to the every
day needs of the workers or other employees. Col
lective agreements are concluded at every enter
prise, but often enough they are not carried out,
and the Trade Unions keep silent, as though every
thing were right and proper. In general, the Trade
Unions no longer have disputes with industrial exe
cutives. there is peace and harmony between them.
But one need not be afraid to spoil relations where
the interests of our cause are concerned; at times
8 good wrangle is beneficial . a .
Nothing could be plainer. The planners. the
management, and the union leaders ( in Russia they
are part of the state) make all sorts of plans and
agreements about every single aspect of production.
The workers make a mess of these. But everybody
agrees to say nothing. Because all of them know
that if they attempt seriously to discipline the workers,
the end will be worse than the beginning. True of every
country, this is particularly true in Russia where the
penalties on the manager for not producing the quota
for his plant have been extremely severe. It could be a
matter of life or death or deportation to Siberia, and
so as to be sure to get anything like reasonable pro
duction, managers have learned to come to some sort
of understanding with the workers. It has long been
reported from Russia that many managers protected
t.heir best workers when, for example, they broke the
savage laws that Stalin decreed for those who came late.
This. however, is something different. The vast ap
paratus of management and bmeaucracy not only ac
cepts the plan of the workers, but keeps its mouth shut.
How exactly do the workers break up the plans of
t.he planners and institute their own plan? Khrushchev
tells us :
Considerable over-fulfillment of such deliberately
THE WHOLE WOR.LD 33
low output quotas creates the illUSion that all is
well, and tends to divert workers, foremen and en
gieers from effective efforts to raise productivity.
The present practice is to make output quotas cor
respond in effect to a definite wage level, 0DD not
to the technical and efficiency levels already
achieved.
What a confession of failure ! The planners a):ld man
agement decree that such and such must be the quota
of production for the basic wage, and only after that
quota is produced can extra wages be paid
. The workers
declare that the quota is too high, and though time
study Jen (and soldiers with guns) stand over them,
they demonstrate that they cannot do the work at the
rate the planners have planned. Management realizes
that it can do nothing about this, and in the end agrees
that the quota should be lowered. Whereupon by de
grees the workers step up production and soon 40 % to
60% of the workers' wage i being made by prodUCing
what they swore was impossible in the first place. The
sham and pretense, in fact, the gigantic lies that are
hidde under a State Plan, like the State Plan of the
Russian economy, are shown not only by all the fore
going, but by the key statement in Khrushchev's report:
that whereas the machinery and technical organization
of a factory is geared to a certain level of productivity
and efficiency, which is what the planners have in
their heads and put down on paper, the Russian man
agers dare not use this as B basis of production. The
workers declare that whatever the planners plan, the
starting point for the schedules of production is what
they are prepared to do for so much money. Khrushchev,
Bulganin, Suslov, all sang this same mournful hymn
throughout the Congress. They will sing it many times
before they are finished. For that is the nature of mod
ern capitalist large scale production, and it will con
tinue and intensify until a new system of economic re
lations is established, new relations between people and
people, management of industry by the workers them
selves on the job. Modern industry cannot be run in
any other way.
This is not and cannot be a study of the Russian
economy, but this much can be said. While the whole
world occupied itself with the de-Stalinization speech by
Khrushchev at this same Twentieth Congress, practi
cally nobody paid any attention to the fact that in
speech after speech at the Twentieth Congress, the Rus
sian rulers admitted that long bfore Khushchev spoke
34 FACING REALITY
of de-Stalinization, the workers in the plants had de
Stalinized themselves. Today, the press and the politi
cians are preoccupied with Khrushchev's plans for de
centralization and whether or not the dismissed Molo
tov will be shot or not, j ust as in Hungary they were
preoccupied with the intellectuals and students. The
ferment among intellectuals and youth, the continuing
conflict in the leadership, show that the crisis in Russia
is deeper than it has ever been in that crisis-ridden
country. Ad a solution does not depend on the amount
of free speech that is granted to writers, students, and
technicians. The crisis is far deeper than it ever was in
Stalin's time because inside the plants of Russia there
now exists this formidable working class, the most pow
erful in the world except for the ,merican and i one
respect far more dangerous to the ruling class than is
the American. In Russia during the last fifty years there
have been three great revolutions. The workers took the
lead in each. Today, with the workers more powerful
than ever before in their history, the coming Russian
Revolution, like the revolution in Hungary, will begi
with the establishment of a Government of Workers
Councils, whatever it may call itself. That is the only
democracy that state capitalist Russia will ever have
and that it will have or perish, blown up by the antag
onisms that can no longer be hidden.
GREAT BRITAIN
In Britain, as elsewhere, the Hungarian Revolution
undoubtedly tore apart the pervading fear that totali
tarianism is an all-powerful form of government able
to mould a whole population to its will. But after the
first rush of enthusiasm and hope among vast millions
of people who have rej ected capitalism, there has been
B noticeable retreat among the political wl'iters and
social theorist. Their mid have so long been stuck
in the cement of political parties, Welfare states, and
other forms of governent in which they, the econo
mists, the organizers, the propagandists, the technicians,
play the leading role, that they are unable to begin
from the fact that the future of society is with the
Government of the 'Workers Councils.
Britain is supposed to b the great model of Parlia
mentary Democracy and the Welfare State. Yet long
before the Hungarian Revolution, the working class had
created on the shop floor a nation-wide organization
which is beyond all question the most powerful social
force in the country. This is the celebrated Shop Stew-
JI WHOLE WORLD
a'ds Movement. Despite the great reputation which this
ove?ent
.

njo

s among the workers of the world, its

1ole
.
m B;ntIsh mdustry ad politics is little understood
m;tsIde
.
Britain. Even many British people have only
vague Ideas about Shop Stewards, except of course those
who have to deal with these organizations.
It is
.
the
.
Shop Stewards Movem,ent which has brought
and mamtams order in British industry. This cannot be
better expressed than it was in the introduction to a
docume

t ( state Capitalism and World Revolution. See

AppendIX.) which was published in England before the
Hungarian Revolution took place.
THE ALL-POWERFUL SHOP STEWARDS
Twenty-five years ago in Britain because of lower
levels of tooling, greater craft stratification and the
reserve army of unemployed, it was still possible to
e?orce an effective piecework system. Its destruc
tIVe consequences for labor and society were multi
plied a thousandfold in the forced industrialisation
of Russia and was the economic basis of the mon
strous regime of Stalin. Those days are over both
in Britain and in Russia. As line productiO, the
donveyor system, and highly divided mass produc
tIOn ha,ve developed i Britain, piecework has
lashed more and more with the obj ective require
ments
.
for efficiency. The Shop Stewards, the shop
commIttees that matured in this period, were not
merely economic defense organisations of the work
ers. They were the ony possible means of bringing
some order to the chaos caused by the attempts of
management to maintain individual piecework in
the new mass production industries. The workers
in Brtain have gone a long way towards destroying
the pIecework system. On any particular line or in
an

particular shop, a minimum is fixed,
'
below
WhICI no one may have his wages reduced. By
redu
?
mg the gap between the minimum and the
maXlmum, the power of the rate-fixer is thereby
broken and a leveling of wages takes place. Thus
wages are no longer governed by individual effort
but by the general level of class struggle in the shop
or line concerned. The wo:kers' name for this is
"action on the j ob." Action on the j ob goes far be
yond trade unionism, for it carries a formidable
unity among the workers and gives them a control
in every phase of production. This control, though
constantly contested by management, i never en
tirely defeated and steadily expands its scope. To-
36 FACING REALITY
day the center of power moves away from the Labor
Paty and the unions on to the shop floor. It i
from this milieu that have erupted the startlingly
revolutionary demands of the Standard workers in
Coventry in relation to redundancy. These demands
have been watered down by the uion leadership
into compensation and a vague consultation. The
original proposals were based on the conception
that men and not capital must henceforth be the
primary concern of industry. That conviction is deep
in the hearts of many millions 311 OYer the world.
and its objective realisation cannot be long delayed.
In the very week that this publication appeared.
one of the oldest, most respected, and most reactionary
papers in Britain published one of a series of articles
giving the results of a special investigation into the
conditions of British industry. Only direct quotation can
do justice to this confirmation of the reality of modern
industry. (Emphasis has not been added.)
THE SHOP STWARDS DOMINATE THE UNIONS
The truth that the leaders are no longer their
own masters. There has been an enorous shift of
power within the trade union movement from the
center to the factory floor. However vigorously the
leaders themselves deny this, the evidence is too
strong to be contradicted. For example, since the
war the vast majority of strikes have not been offi
cial but unofficial. They have been called not by
union leaders but against their wishes. The most sig
nificant thing about the inter-union dock strike of
1955 was not that it rendered the ports of the coun
try idle but that the leaders of the union repre
senting the vast majority of dockers were opposed
to it and were unable to persuade the men to return.
And for every strike on a nation-wide scale there
have been hundreds confined to particular indus
tries and particular factories about which nothing
has been heard. The most glaring example is in the
coal mines, where unofficial stoppages have cost us
more than half the coal we are having to import
every year. The occasions of the stoppages are in
finitely varied.
We believe that what miners want is to manage the
mines. Time will tell, but meanwhile let us hear the
bourgeois investigator:
It may be that if work on a particular face cannot
THE WHOLE WORLD
be completed as planed, the men on that shift are
asked to carry their tools to another face; or per
haps, as a result of prolonged and petty differences,
an overseer uses strong language ; in either case
the men come to the surface. Occasionally there is
a claim for extra money due to extraordinary phy
sical conditions, too much water or too much dust
on a particular job. But nearly always in each case
it is the men on the spot asserting themselves by
direct action, either in defiance of union agreements
or without the consent of the union officials, which
causes the stoppage.
This indiscipline in the mines is so serious and its
causes so puzzling that two committees of inquiry
have recently been set up, one to examine stoppages
and the other absenteeism. On both committees
the representatives of all the unions concerned as
well as of the Coal Board are sitting.
The last sentence shows the new situation-shop
floor organizations are opposed to both management
and union leaders. And you will find this in every im
portant British industry. Here is our investigator again:
But stoppages are not confined to the coal mines.
1 the engineering industry, lightning strikes of one
kind or another are occurring almost every week.
Sometimes a man has been saeked, or perhaps a
man who has obeyed official union policy and de
fied an unofficial strike has not been sacked. The
men refuse to work. In these cases it is usually the
shop stewards who are asserting themselves.
The metlod of election of shop stewards varies from
factory to fa.ctory. Sometimes the members of each
separate union elect their own stewards to repre
sent them in day-to-day negotiations with the man
agement; sometimes shop stewards represent the
members of all unions in their particular depart
ment. In either case the problem is the same.
The shop stewards are claiming that if a dispute
arises suddenly they should have the right to take
whatever action they think fit, irrespective of any
agreements the union may have made with the in
dustry as a whole or with the management of that
particular factory. No union leader concedes this
right, but when the shop stewards are sure of their
following they assume it and impose bans on over
time, work to rule, or a complete stoppage, as the
situation requires. And every time they do this the'
= ~ -
J8 FACIG REALTY
have put the official' of one or more unions legally
in the wrong, and so weakened their bargaining
power.
A little later the writer concludes, again in black
print:
In the organization of labor in this country the
struggle for power is not plimariIy between man
agement and men but between the union leaders
and the I and file.
( Sunday Times, January 13, 1957.)
This is modern capitalism, in the United states, in
Russia, as well as in Britain. The British Tory majority
in the House of Common' stands impotent before the
Shop Stewards Movement and the leadership it exer
cises over the decisive forcs in the labor movement.
That is why it has not so far dared to enfQTce the in
dustrial measures which it has proclaimed are neces
sary to end inflation. The Tory Government is not
afraid of the union leaders. The union leaders would
be willing to come to terms with the Tory Government.
Both groups are immobilized in their positions by the
shop stewards.
It would be a serious and totally unnecelsary blund
er to prophesy that the Shop Stewards Movement is an
embryo Government of the Workers Councils. In mo
ments of great social crisis, organizations can undergo
rapid, almost instantaneous transformation or be re
placed by entirely new organizations. Such speculations,
in this context, would be irrelevant. The fundamental
:act remains that British Parliamentary Democracy,
the most powerful combination of Labor Party, trade
union movement, and cooperative movement that the
world has ever known, Welfare State, socialized medi
cine, and all, have produced not peace but the most
highly-organized and defiant shop floor organizations
i the world.
We believe that the point has been sufficiently prov
ed, that the Government of Workers Councils which
appeared so startlingly in Hungary was no historical
accident but a social and political form that is rooted
TD the very structure of modern industry, creates the
crisis in modern industry, and therefore in society as a
whole. It cannot be suppressed, and its ultimate victory
in one form or another is the only solution to the mod
ern crisis. How and when this will take place in partic
ular countries is no business of ours ( we shall later have
a few words to say about half a dozen isolated indivi-
THE WHOLE WORLD 39
duals standing at street corners, calling upon the work
ers to repare for revolution) . The incalculable variety
of natIOnal states, their differing historical past the
specific features of their political life, the presen;e or
absence of democratic forms, all these make it impera
tive that we hold firm to the one great reality that
specifically characteristic of the middle of the Twentieth
Century-the unitY, discipline, and organization of the
working class in large scale industry. The necessity to
do this can be most clearly seen in our last example
the situation in France.
1
FRANCE
At first sight industrial-political life in France seems
to be dominated by the Communist Party with its hun
dred and forty deputies in Parliament. The French rul
ing clals has been powerless to check the Communist
Party. The Socialist Party and the Radical Party which
dominated Fench political life in the period between
the two wars, have been equally helpless before the
French Communilt Party. All are powerless because aU
are equally stained with the corruption and degradation
of all aspects of life in pre-war France, which culmi
n8ted in the disastrous defeat by the Germans in June
1940 and the humiliation of the Occupation.
It is the working class of France in its shop flool'
organizations which has already given the deathblow
to this monster whose tentacles have been coiled around
the French people for so lon.
At the end of the war the French wotkers j oined the
Communist Party by the hundreds of thousands, ex
pecting to find in it the party of the Russian Revolution
and a Socialist United States of Europe. In the unions
the French Communist Party for a time had almost
complete power. French workers were to discover that
the Communist Party would take the power from the
French bourgeoisie oilly if the Russian Army was at its
back. Meanwhile, the Party was ready to exploit and
exhaust the workers in limited strikes and demonstra
tions, for the sole purpose of embarrassing the govern
ment and keeping the country in turmoil. If the workers
turned from the Stalinists, they were met by the SciaI
Democrats, trying to line them up on the side of Amer
ican capitalism, while at the same time intervenino'
with the French industrialists to obtain quieting eonces:
sions for the workers.
Painfully. since 1947, the French working class has
been struggling to rescue the nati
o
n from this bureau-
FACING REALITY
cl'atic stlnglehold of the Communists a.nd the Social
Democrats. In the fall of 1947 a wave of strikes swept
t.hrough France initiated by the workers themselves.
The Communists, who had joined the French govern
ment in line with the Russian policy of collaboration
with the West, rushed to take over the leadership of
these strikes. Between 1948 and 1952, in the heat of the
cold war, the Communists called the workers out in one
strike after another to back up such political demands
BS would serve Russian policy. The workers either ab
stained OI went along apathetically. In August 1953
millions of workers again struck spontaneously, inde-
pendently of the trade union leadership and in many
cases in direct opposition to it. However, once the
strikes began, they did not resist the Communists tak
ing over effective control of the struggle.
It was not until the summel of 1955 that the French
workers again rose in widespread spontaneous struggle.
This time, however, at Nantes, Saint-Nazaire, ad
elsewhere, they did not simply strike or occupy facto
ries. They passed to the attack, supporting their de
mands by mass street fighting, at times reaching the
level of 15, 000 workers battling with the police. Not
only did they refuse to leave the leadership of the strug
gle to the trade unions. At critical moments they broke
into the offices where the union officials were nego
tiating, thew them out, and took over the negotiations
themselves. This great series of strikes revealed that by
If55 the French workers had arrived at the conclusion
that they could gain their obj ectives only in opposition
to the union bureaucracy. They could depend only on
the independent organizations which they had built in
their hour-to-hour, day-to-day struggles in'ide the
plant.
From that time the Communist Party in France has
begun a steady decline. Its control of the union move
ment has become control of the apparatus, with the
workers indifferent or hostile. The fina. blow came with
the Hungarian Revolut.ion. Against the brazen defense
of the Russian intervention by the French Communist
Party, the French working class revolted by the tens
of thousands. A' of today, the Communist Party in
France is a mere shadow of its former self. From near
ly a million members it can now count on a hard core
of U few thousand members. It could not get 10, 000
French workers into the streets of Paris to defend the
Party headquarters or even to demonstrate against the
Fascists when, in the agitation a.round Hungary, these
THE WHOLE WORLD
attacked the Party. Nothing but the most abysmal foUr
of the traditional French political parties, and perhaps
not even that, can drive the French working class back
under the domination of the French Communist Party.
The power of the working class in its independent shop
floor organizations and the emptiness of modern par
liamentarism are fully illustrated by the experience i
France.
1. The French working class has been able to do
what all the political and governmental power in France,
backed by American billions, failed to do - break the
. stranglehold which the French Communi't Party had
on French life.
2. It is precisely in elections and parliamentary man
euvers that the French Communist Party retains what
ever power it has in France.
This is a fitting demonstration of the actual rela
tion of forces between the institutions contending for
supremacy in ou age.
III. THE SELF -CONFESSED BANKRUPTCY
OF OFFICIAL SOCIETY
THE SELF-CONFESSED BANKRUPTCY OF OFFICIAL SOCIETY 1J
the degree of development, a certain percentage of
technicians and professional middle classes: lawyers,
doctors, salesmen, public relations men such as politi
cians and j ournalists. There are, even in many advanced
societies, substantial numbers of farmers. In short, there
It is quite untrue to say that contemporary society
is in every society that infinite variety of occupations
( whether on this side or the other side of the Iron c1r-
and individuals in which empiricists love to lose them-
tain) faces the possibility of collapse. As a way of hfe,
selves. Counting each grain of sand, they rack their
as a civilization, as a culture, modern society has col-
brais to prove that there is no method of analyzing
] apsed already. The contemporary world is
.
divide into
history and s ociety which is definitive enough to be
two l arge blocs whose rulers use all the dISCOVerIes of
termed scientific. They deny that there can be any
.
RCierce to snarl threats and defiance at each other
scientific guide to social action Whereby they elaim t6
;cross the ether, and plot mutual destruction which will
have proved logically and scientifically that all we can
be counted in tens of millions. This is no longer to be
do is to submit.
compared with the life of savages. It is the
.
life of the
Social relations in production do not constitute so-
jungle. The ordinary citizen today can eXIst only by
ciety and no one ha.s ever claimed that they did. Mod-
deliberately excluding from his consciousness vast areas
ern society in particular is an enormously complex 01'-
of contemporary life which it is unbearable to contem-
ganism, comprising relations of production, commercial
plate. Never before i human history has the world
relations, scientific investigation, the highly scientific
known such elementary fear of total physical destruc-
orga,nizations of certain aspects of industry itsel (such
tion, the savagery and brutality of the passions with
as for instance the production and use of atomic ener-
which one half of the world regards the other, the con-
gy) , The means of communication of information and
sciousness of primeval depths just beneath the veneer of
ideas play an enormous role in the routine of today's
science and civilization, the alienation of individual from
society. There is the organization of political life, the
individual i the closely-knit modern community, the
creation of literature and art at various levels. But de-
alienation of the individual from himself, the gulf s
.
ep-
spite all the complexity, there ar clear, unmistakable.
arating aspiration from reality. Never has ny oclety
irrefutable patterns and laws which allow us to under-
been so wracked by these torments on so gIgantIC and
stand the general movement.
all-pervading a scale as the society in which we l
.
ive.
Here is one very obvious pattern of movement in
________ If_w.e_haV'e __ based _our __ concept_Qf..e...J
t
uLQL. o
Cle
,
t
=
y
~ ..moenLJociety. ------ ..--..
upon the working class in the social relations o ro-
ONLY FORTY YEARS
duction, it is because it is the single stabe, Ullfyug,
Beginning in 1917, the political form of the One-Par-
and integrating element in a society that IS otherWIse
ty State, in direct contradiction to the aspirations of
riddled with insoluble antagonisms, and rudderless.
Europe for centuries, turn by turn has embraced such
That is why we have so far written as if the only
diverse areas as Russia, Italy, Germany and now China.
classes i n society were the organizers and administra-
Today over a billion people live under a form of
tors of great industry and the working class. We include
government which half a century ago was not even
among the workers millions of clericl workers
.
becuse
conceived of except in the minds of a f.ew eccentric
as their work becomes more mechaned,
.
they Ill
.
creas-
scribblers. The world has divided into two power blocs ;
ingly feel themselves to be a proletarlamzed sectl0I of
one is committed to the totalitarian form of society, the
the community. They tend to organize themselves lto
other to Parliamentary Democracy. The defenders of
unions and t follow the methods of struggle whlch
Conservative Freedom, Free Enterprise, and Parliamen-
they see so effectively used by the workers. Among the
tary Democracy held at their disposal the most highly
workers i industry there are different layers. 'rere
industrialized areas of the world and controlled hun-
are similar broad differentiations among the w h I t. e
dreds of million of the underdeveloped peoples. I half
collar workers in America or black-coated workers O
a lifetime they have been defeated, driven out, rolled
England. There is in every population, a
ccording t
back. They have been reduced to a condition in which
42
they say openly and without shame that the only bar-
FACING REALITY
riel' to the conquest of the world by totalitarianism is
the hydrogen bomb. But soon the bomb too was in the
hands of the so-called modern Goths and Vandals. And
as we write, the totalitarians have gone beyond them
in sending Sputniks hurtling around the earth.
The pattern of defeat for the Free Enterprisers and
Parliamentary Democrats grows more embracing every
decade.
Yet the successes of totalitarian states are gained
by such a waste of human life and effort, such a rever
sion to political }?rbarism, that the world recoils frol1
them in horror. But the advocates of Conservative Free
dom Free Enterprise, and Parliamentary Democracy
gain
'
nothing by this. The public pronouncements of
both sides are once more at the level of primitive sav
ages in the dawn of history. What is wrong? The men
on the other side of the river are evil.
What to do? Get
weapons larger and more destructive than the weapons
of the evil men.
WAR AN EFFECT, NOT A CAUSE
People have been bulldozed into the belief that the
real crisis of modern society i' war between the ideolo
gies. To this some have added that the discoveries of
science are the cause of the world crisis. , However much
these ideas may be repeated, they are the utmost folly
and dangerous nonsense.
The war between the ideologies began because the
ideology of Free Enterprise and Parliamentary Demo
cracy proved itself powerless to satisfy either the people
in the advanced countries DI those millions in the under
developed countries who were seeking a new life. That
is the reason why the monstrous apparition of totali
tarianism has appeared. Free Enterprise and Parliamen
tary Democracy are not on trial. They have failed. The
rise of totalitarianism is the proof of their failure.
The idea that modern science has brought the world
to the disastrous condition in which it finds itself is
similarly without foundation.
In March 1955 Sir Winston Churchill, who specializes
in making words sound like a roll of drums, delivered
himself of the following on the hydrogen bomb:
There is an immense gulf between the atomic and
the hydrogen bomb. The atomic bomb, with all its
terrors, did not carry us outside the 1cope of hu
man control or manageable events, in thought or
action, in peace or war. When the chairman of the
United States Congressional Committee gave out,
a year ago, the first comprehensive revieW of the'
THE SELF-CONFESSED BANKRUPTCY OF OFFICIAL SOCIETY 45
hydrogen bomb, the entire foundation of human
affairs was revolutionized, and mankind placed in
a situation both measureless and laden with doom.
There in one package we have all the fallacies, fool
ishness, and deceitful propaganda of the two power
blocs. Exactly what have any governments controlled
O managed during the last fifty years? The hydrogen
bomb was not i existence when they controlled and
managed to kill ten million soldiers alone in World War
J. The hydrogen bomb was not in existence when they
controlled and managed to kill some thirty-five million
people in World War II. Scientists had not invented the
-
hydrogen bomb when these governments starved and
demoralized half the population of the world during
the Great Depression. The invention of these modern
deadly weapons had not yet taken place when these
governments controlled and managed to shock every
decent instinct and moral priciple by the way they
cringed before Fascism and compromised with it. To
sa;: that it was the invention of the hydrogen bomb
which has carried us "outside the scope of human con
trol or manageable events" is to say that the miserable
record of governments before the hydrogen bomb was
controlled and managed by them. I reality they con
trolled nothing, they managed nothing. To say that
with the invention of the hydrogen bomb "the entire
foundation of human affairs was revolutionized" is mere
ly to try to hide the truth, that "the entire foundation
of human affairs" has been in process of suicidal de
struction for half a century. It is the entire course of
human affairs pursuing its vicious path under the lead
ership of official society that has led to the construc
tion of the' hydrogen bomb and of Sputnik. The hydro
gen bomb and Sputnik are masses of machinery lying
in a shed. They have no power in themselves. To the
capitalistic fetishism of commodities they want now to
add the fetishism of science. Hydrogen bombs and Sput
niks are made by men in a certain type of society who
have certain purposes in mind when they make them.
Men make them, men carry them or launch them.
There is not and has never been any impelling ne
cessity to invent hydrogen bombs or Sputniks, or what
ever else they may invent. The whole projection of sci
ence in that direction ha been dictated solely by the
need to invent engines of destruction. In a different so
ciety, science could have easily been directed towards
equally dramatic discoveries in human biology, the pro
duction of food supplies, individual and social psychol-
46 FACING REALITY
ogy, whatever rational people would have placed first on
the list of their needs as civilized human beings. Offi
cial society has produced these monstrous weapons be
cause it i s the type of society which needs them.
The naive platitudes of the Eisenhowers, the worn
shallowness of the Macmillans, the impudent grimaces
of the Khrushchevs, and the ferocity common to all of
them about these destructive inventions, are an offense
to human reason, an insult to human dignity. They nev
ertheless are quite adequate public voices of the bar-
barism they represent. With what other voices could
they speak?
CONSCIOUSNESS DEGRADED
The Americans made the atom bomb. The Russians
made one. The Americans made the hydrogen bomb.
The Russians followed. Now the Russians are first with
Sputnik. The Americans have followed suit. Both of
them will soon learn how to bring Sputniks or missiles
safely to earth and to a particular spot. Russians will
learn to blow up or to bring down American Sputniks.
Americans will learn to blow up or bring down Russian
Sputnilcs. Mankind may soon rise in the morning and
go to bed at night in the consciousness that Sputniks
loaded with bombs are going round and round us,
launched by politicianS and generals who, despite their
disastrous failures of forty years, still suffer from the
delusion that they can control and manage.
Today even physical control is beyond them. In Eng'
land recently radiation escaped from an atomic pile
and infected the countryside, and milk from cows be
came radioactive. What will be the consequences of a
mistake made by these j uvenile delinquent mentalities,
dressed up in uniforms, hotrod ding in the sky?
Ever since Sputnik appeared, the American Air Force
is on a 15 minute alert. Planes loaded with bombs are
ready to take off against Russia in 15 minutes. While
ministers lie about it on the ground, the loaded planes
fly in the air. We can be sure that the Russians too are
doing the same. The mental strain on the pilots must
be intolerable. If one of these boys breaks under it and
goes crazy-or one of the directing officers makes a
mistake-or something in the mechanism goes wrong
as can always happen, one or more of these bombs will
fall and explode, and the last great bacchanal will be on.
They canot continue to play with fire i this way
without ultimately producing consequences that may
well be irreparable. They do not know what they are
doing, and even if they do know some of the dangers,
THE SELF-CONFESSED BANKRUPTCY OF OFFICIAL SOCIETY 47
they do not care. They are prepared to take the chance.
Today our
.
rulers turn all progress into misery. 1 jet
planes, adl?, and television we have more means of
commumcatlOn than we ever had before. But do we
get to know each other better? No. Half the world is
sealed off from the other half. Each side corrupts the
vry ether with its lies about the other. Now with sput
mk, mal has shown the capacity to organize the most
extraordma,ry mechanical instruments. But this tri
'uIph

which should make every human being thrill
Ith JOy and hop. results in loss of liberty, more taxa
tIO, vulgar
.
boastmg, e
.
nvious sneers, bitterness, meeting
of
r
comums
.
t heads m Moscow, meeting of heads of
NArO I ParIs, and universal fear. For the Russians too
are afraId.
The damag is not merely the diversion of wealth
and labor to Immoral purposes. The damage is not
merely destruction that will result tomorrow when ei
ther by design or by chance, they loose off at
'
one
another. No
.
one nows the damage that is being done
to ?ur physcal eXIstence by radioactivity resulting from
theIr
.
experIments and tests. The weight of scientific
experIment gr0vs steadily agaimt this suicidal roulette,
]ayed by
.
RUSSIans and Americans alike. Our men of
state contmue to handle these potential destroyers of
te human race as if they were toy balloons. They con
t:nue to dare each other with bombs and missiles like
lIttle boys blowing soap bubbles.
.
,
We Just not shrink from facing steadily the depra
VIty WhIch is ow in charge of human affairs. It was
clear that as tIme went on Hitler and Stalin had lost
al sense of reality, and pursued their paths, ready to
brmg
.
do
.
wn Germany and Russia in ruin rather than
SO?

If
.
mded they were capable of doing so. Modern
clvIllzatIn IS a unity. A similar vertigo now dominates
our publlc en .
.
TIe lust for power and destruction has
bcome a th
.
mg m Itself. Political parties, press and pul
mi, are
.
all m eague to exclude from authority all who
do not frst strIP off all reason and decency, daub them
selves WIth the national colors, drink deep of the cup
of bloo, and take the oath never to weaken until the
enemy IS destroyed,
.
even though that enemy is half the
hman race .
.
A?eurm Bevan, after voicing for years the
dIsmay of mIllIons, no sooner sniffs the fetid aroma of
power than he shrills with the frenzy of the newly con
verted.
Incantation rules, not reason.
There was no reason whatever to launch the first
48 FACING REALITY
atom bombs which killed a quarter of a million human
beings in a few seconds-the Japanese were already
suing for peace. There was no reason to build the first
hydrogen bomb without first calling a world conference
of the nations, great and small, and placing before it
all the dangers involved. Rulers of states can no longer
think in any sane, constructive way. Forty years
.
of
continuoUs violence and bloody destruction orgamzed
bv the state 11ave taken their toll. A whole generation
of men of state have been reared and matured in vio
lence and blood. Their state can be run only by men
who think in those terms. The state insists that to
think in terms of the salvation, instead of the destruc
tion of the human race is treason. Perhaps the great
est damage that has yet been done is the eating away
of our consciousness of ourselves as civilized human be
ings. It is alreadY incalculable and cannot but increase.
Not only does mankind suffer the unknown corequences
of living in perpetual fear. We on this side of the CU
tain, and ordinary people on the other side as well, all
of us know that this insane competition, this continuous
trafficking in the annihilation of millions of people is
not only suicidal. We know that it is immoral. We know
that it is wrong, that even wild beasts in the jungle do
not behave in this way. Khrushchev shouts from the
Kremlin that if he is provol{ed, he will lay waste, an
nihilate, half the continent of Europe. General Norstad
in Paris replies that he will lay waste the other half.
A thousand newspapers in fifty languages print these
threats. Official society is not in decline. As civilization,
as culture, as reason, as morals, it is already dead. The
need to prepare for universal destruction, to scream
.
the
threat, to be unhappy unless balancing on the bnnk.
this is no longer politics, defense or attack. These are
the deep inner compulsions of a society that
.
has out
lived itself, swept along by mechanical forces It
.
cann

t
control, dreading and yet half-hoping that one clImactic
clash may give the opportunity to start afreSh.
The final degradation for the ordinary man and
woman is the sense of impotence, the impotence of vast
millions of human beings who see themselves daily en
dangered and ultimately threatened with destruction by
the work of their own hands. We try to accustom our
selves to it. We cannot do it. We may bury the fear and
the shame deep in our consciousnesS. But they are
there, corrupting us. As for our children, it is no wonder
that in coutry after country more and more of them
live for the thrills of the moment, with a savage and
THE SELF-CONFESSED BANKRUPTCY OF OFFICIAL SOCIETY 19
j ustified contempt for what their elders try to teac
h
them. What price we shall have to pay for allowing our
selves to be driven so far back bey
o
nd the very pre
mises of a human existence it is impossible to forecast.
But the road back is not straight and narrow, as a
crowd of petty WOUld-be Christs seek to persuade us.
It is broad and it is open. Nothing but the conscious,
deliberate, and pitiless repudiation and rej ection of all
responsible for this dehumanization of a world can hope
to lighten and relieve the burden of expiation which
- this generation will have to bear;
- -- - -
No, it is not war and it is not science which threaten
us with destruction. It is the bankruptcy of society
which was upon us long before atomic energy, hydrogen
bombs, or Sputniks.
A FALLEN WORLD
A columnist like Joseph Alsop writes that nobody
believes a single word of the pronouncements on summit
talks Il:de by the political leaders of the West. It is
absolutely true. But he then goes on to say that anything
like a real talk at the summit, i. e. , between Russia
and the United States, would create terror among the
governments of the West : they would be afraid that the
two big ones might make a deal at their expense. Wal
ter Lippmann writes :
There is good reason to think that both sides prefer
the existing division of Germany and of Europe to
any settlement that has thus far been proposed.
That is the truth, though not all of it. Why?
The Western governments are afraid that a reunit
ed Germany, with the British and American and
Russian troops withdrawn, would hold the balance
of power and use it to make Germany dominant in
Europe. The Soviet government is afraid that if
ever it withdrew from Eastern Germany the whole
satellite empire would blow up and be replaced not
by neutralist governments but by implacably anti
Russian governments.
What does Lippmann see as a way out?
The chances are that this deadlock will not be re
solved by the initiative of the great powers, but
rather by political developments in both halves of
Euope. In the Eastern half there is always some
prospect of a revolt of the Hungarian type. In the
Western half there is the likelihood that within a
few years, within the term of this Administration,
there will be new governments in Western Europe,
FACING REALITY
and that in these governments the existing opposi
tion parties will play a leading part. If and when
that happens, it will be very important hat we
should not have alienated them and thus fmd our
selves on the outside looking in.
He makes one mistake here. The present oppositions
will do nothing when they come to power. Ne govern
ments will be governments of Workers CouCIls ; there
are not and cannot be any other type of new goyrn
ment. But we should note and remember the
.
cymcIsn,
_
the meanness, and the blind stupidity of thIS PUl:dIt
of democracy, so beloved and respected on both SIdes
of the water. Cynicism because Lippmann does not pre
tend to believe in the "Peace ! We are for Peace. They
are for War " which the Eisenhowers, Dulleses, and
Macmillans continue to ladle out. Cynicism b e c a u s e
Lippmann knows that the leaders of the Free World
are powerless to produce any policy to avert the threat
ening disaster and is content to leave them where hey
are. Cynicjsm, however, can sometimes have a llttle
pride. Lippmann has none. He does not advocate a
revolution in Eastern Germany. He does not adocate
the coming to power of opposition governnents m u
rope. But he skulks aroud on the outskIrts warnmg
the leaders of the Free World to be sure not to be left
outside looking in. But the crown of this disgusting ex
hibition is not even stated, so. much does this little rat
believe that the hole in which he lives is the whole
world. Other people may make revolutions. Oh
.
er cour
tries may have opposition parties and opposltlOn pol1-
cies which may come to power. But such things do not
happen in the United states. states may come and 'tats
may go but the good firm of Jackass and lphant
.
WIll
go on forever. So the monkey bred in captIVIty belIeves
the world to consist of the cjrcus and his cage.
.
All the talk about peace, the plans for peace, the llm
jted peace, the neutral zone, mutual iIs?ection, opn
skies, closed space, all are so much stupIdIty and fUll
jty, or plain lies, and in any cae unworthy
.
of anythmg
but the most unmitigated contempt. For If tomor
.
row
the twelve leading men of state were translated mto
the twelve apostles, and signed twelve agreemets cov
ering the land, the sea, and the air and what IS ab?ve
and what is below, and wrote ten commandments WhICh
they all took the oath of the body and the b!ood to obey,
jt would mean nothing. For not so substantIal an event
as a proletarian revolution in Eastern Germany but
straightforward democratic election to power of Com-
THE SELF-CONFESSED BANKRUPTCY OF OFFICIAL SOCIETY I
munists in a second province of India would immediate
ly transform the holy men into frightened attackers
and defenders and the last state would be worse than
the first.
No agreement can keep the people quiet, not even
an
.
agreement to do so. An agreement presupposes some
V&Tlant of the status quo but the status quo is not only
horizontal, it is vertical. It involves not only govern'
meIts and governments but governments and peoples,
theIr own peoples as well as the peoples of other goV-
_
_
ernllents. Tl1s Messrs. Bevan and Gaitskell propose
to take the fIrst small step to binding Germany hand
and foot on the altar of peace as Isaac was bound by
Jacob. Doubtless these two Social-Democratic watchdogs
of the purest breed believe that if they can persuade the
two imperialist powers to agree on this ( the conference
being carefully prepared) , the German people will hav
to accept it. Who more experienced than Social-Demo
crats in shoving down the throat of masses of people the
?olus that is good for them? That the German people
U the West and in the East may make common
cause with Czechs, Hungarians-, and Poles, without bene
fit of conference either at the summit or at the base
that in any case this imposition upon them can split
the German nation and create still more foundations
of instability, all that is entirely beyond the vision of
these scissors-and-paste reorganizers of a fallen world.
But all this is opposition Punch and Judy. Lost to
all sense and reason as the politicians of official society
seem o e, none has yet reached the ultimate insanity
of bellevmg that the status quo is anything more thall
a shifting quicksand which may engulf some strateg'ic
area at any moment and compel God knows what re
adjustments. Their choice is between ways to destruc
tion. The boast of Dulles that he chooses the brink is
so much wind. There is nothing else to choose.
OUT OI THEIR OI MOUTHS
Our rulers have to try to deceive us. They do not
deceive themselves. Nothing shows so clearly the dregs
to which our civilization has been reduced as the open
ly confessed bankruptcy of its rulers.
RUSSIA
Russia spent vast wealth, energy, and blood upon
the building up of Stalin as the legitimate heir of Marx,
Engels, and Lenin. Stalinism was inculcated into a whole
nation as the infallible guide by which it could develop
and regulate its material life and its ideas. Without a
52 ICIIG IJllY
moment's notice, the rulers of Ru'sia flipped this nation
B catechism into limbo.
1J writing, we here al'e quite naturally more concern
ed to l'each people who live in Western civilization. And
in any case, by normal civilized standards there should
be no need to pOint out the self-confessed bankruptcy
of the Russian state. For decades now the Russian state
has found it necessary to cut off its total population of
many tens of millions from all forms of information or
expression of opinion except what it decreed. The infor
mation which it manufactures has been manipulated,
turned and twisted, subtracted from or added to, re-=
versed, stood on its head, put on its feet again, placed
sideways without the slightest regard for consistency
logic, or
'
simple common sense. Never has it shown the
slightest respect for the intelligence of the population,
any concern for the fact that it could remember today
'vhat it was told yesterday.
The Russian state has ended by denouncing nearly
all its founders as traitors, spies in the pay of imperial
ism, and men seeking to betray their country from the
meanest motives. It carried out a series of public trials
in which it flouted common sense and the elementary
laws of evidence in a manner and on a scale which has
no parallel in history. It conducted purges of its lead
en: in every branch of political and social life, and
those who carried out these purge' were in their turn
purged, so that in time all that remained was a cloud
of lies enshrouding accusers and accused.
The Russian state sent millions of its citizens into
concentration camps, where the cruelties and brutali
ties exceeded anything that the civilized world had
known for centuries, with the 'ingle exception of Fas
cist concentration camps during World War J1. Its labor
code sought to discipline workers in factories as if they
were prisoners at hard labor. Its secret police became a
gigantic economic and military state within the state.
It dismis'ed, murdered, and manipulated its supporters
abroad with a cynical disregard for its professed aims
and purposes.
The Russian state has enslaved tens of millions of
people of the oppressed nationalities, not in the remote
parts of the world, but in the heart of Europe. These
nationalities it has subjected to its will and exploited,
politically, economically, and militarily, i a manner
which no previous imperialism, except Hitlerite Fascism.
has ever dared to do. And this in the middle of the
Twentieth Century.
Iohn Ocan
Gordon Lddy
The Watergate Si x
'RE SELF-CONFESSED BANKUTCY OF OFFICIAL SOCIETY 53
There is no need to continue with this catalogue.
Brazenly denied for decades in the face of evidence
piled 8 high as mountains, most of the crimel of sta
linism have been admitted as facts by the very men
who helped to perpetrate them. Over these crimes with
theil' millions of victims, they have pasted labels such
aR "cult of the individual, " "violations of socialist le
gality," and similar high-sounding names, and seem to
believe that they have thereby settled the account. They
are mistaken. The revolt in East Germany in 1953, in
.
.
Poland and Hungary in 1956, and the rapid and com _
plete collapse of the state power in East Germany and
Hungary in particular ; the crudeness with which the
Russian regime sought to de-Stalinize itself, all this and
the ferment throughout the Communist world show that
H.usEJan totalitarianism has not only feet but a head of
clay, is a totally unworkable system of society, and is
doomed to pel'isl1 before the wrath of the people.
The power of totalitarianism is due to one thing and
one thing only-totalitarianism itself. Stalin could and
now Khrushchev can set the most abrupt and bewild
enng goals and changes in economic and diplomatic 1'e
l2tions and thus appear to catch up with and surpass
all rivals. But it is this very immunity from the criti
cism of rivals and of the people that leaves them help
l ess before the criticism of events and lures them on to
the most fantastic stupidities. Stalin's are now common
property. We shall not have to wait too long for KhrUlh
chev' s. His successor will enlighten us.
The most significant fact about the impact of this
monstrous growth on Western Civilization is never DI
very rarely mentioned. History will record and, we hope,
with a shame that will never let humanity forget it,
history will record that the vast maj ority of intellec
tuals, politicians, liberals, socialists, and humanists ac
oepted Russian totalitarianism at its own valuation.
They believed that the Russian people and the subjugat
ed Poles, Hungarians, Romanians, Czechoslovakians, etc.,
would accept the cruelties, brutalities, and ihumani
ties forever. They more than half suspected that by
"1984" all states in the world would have followed the
Russian model. They believed in other words that after
five thousands years of civilization, humanity was des
tined to end up like performing animals, obedient to
t,he whip of a trainer.
Even the gross and stupid fallifications of the Mos
cow trials were accepted in many quarters, to the ex
tent tha.t Mr. Winston Churchill in his history of
b
FACING REALITY
tbe war was able to write of the masterful manner i
which Vishinsky conducted them.
The trials have now been acknowledged for the
fr:mds that they were. The Plan has been exposed in
Poland and Hungary. It i now obvious to all except
Stalinists and some learned economists that if any
modern state was able to crush the working class and
lower its wages by half, the state would be able to in
crease its production of heavy industry and build planes
and missiles, until in time the whole society blew up
owing to -the economic and social tensions and disorder. _
It was not merely Russian statistics of production
and military power that drove Western Civilization to
believe the Russian state had at last discovered the
means of turning men into commodities, pure and sim
ple. The cause of this degradation of thought, this bru
talization of belief, lay not in Russia at alL The Russian
propaganda was swallowed because of the situation at
home. If so many in western Europe and the United
states accepted the Russian way as the way of the fu
ture, if they cringed before it, if they were even fas
cinated by it, it was because they no longer had any
belief in the future of Free Enterprise, or Parliamentary
Democracy, or the milk-and-water Socialism of the
Labor Parties, exhausted before they had arrived at
maturity. Millions, including the most highly-educated
and well-iformed intellectuals, were filled with such
loathing, such uncontrollable disgust for the pretenses
and hypocrisies and rottenness of the democratic re
gIme, that they plunged head foremost into Stalinism.
They were ready to drown all knowledge, all intelligence
and integrity in that slime and grime, muck and blood,
if that was the only way t demonstrate their rejection
of Parliamentary Democracy.
The shock of de-Stalinization, the splendor of the
Hlgarian Revolution have brought some of them to
their senses. But for them there is no return to official
society. Behind the dreary bleating of the politicians,
official society states quite plainly that it has nothing
to offer to anybody.
GREAT BRITAIN
Great Britain is the country which is supposed to
have emerged from the upheavals of the last decades
with the greatest social and moral stability. We are told
that it combines the Welfae State with traditional
values. I holds up its Parliamentary Democracy a'
model to the whole world. No one genuflects more rap-
THE SELF-CONFESSED BANKRUPTCY OF OFFICIAL SOCIETY
turously before the British monarchy than Life and
Time, the publications of Henry Luce, and the
New York Times. All this i mere self-delusion when
it is not deliberate hypocrisy. The British people do not
themselves believe it.
On June 25, 1957, the Times Literary Supplement, a
publication of the same publishing company which pro
duces the London Times, analyzed the state of mind
of the ordinary citizen in the United States, in Russia,
and in England. We reprint certain sections of the
analysis because today official society is best convicted
- but of the mouths of its own spokesmen.
A time of strained and breaking loyalties all over
the world-in politics, nationalities, religions, mo
ralities and families-is certainly a time of trou
bles. Such a time has come upon us all, for the first
time in history. That secular religion which once
seemed the hope of half the world-Communism-
has equally become a prey to conflicts of loyalty,
nationalism and morality. In Russia, as in America,
India and Britain; in the Jewry of the diaspora and
of Israel alike, as among dwellers in Arabia, the old
faiths cannot hold the young, materialism rules
the roost and societies bid fair to come apart at
the seams. Worse, they begin to seem unpatchable;
yet no one knows, no one can foretell, what kind
of society will emerge as typical of the continental
groupings ( if not "the World state" itself) towards
which our familiar nation-states are being hustled.
We can ignore the last phrases that no one knows
or can foretell what kind of society will emerge. The
society that will emerge is a society of Workers Councils
in every department of the national activity and a Gov
ernment of Workers Councils. But that apart, did any
Marxist revolutionary ever pen a more devastating pic
ture of chaos, decay, and social dissolution?
The ordinary citizen has no belief in official society,
whether he lives in Moscow, Wahington, or London.
On the surface he votes, he works, he salutes the flag
( or he does not salute it) , he listens to the politicians,
but in the privacy of his own mind and heart, all this
parade of politics and patriotism means nothing to him.
This these serious spokesmen of official society know,
and they know that the root cause of it is the modern
octopus state, whether totalitarian or welfare.
Our real problem today is rather "the millions in
moder mass society who are without loyalty," who
G FACING REALITY
are apathetic OJ anaesthetic. This is a useful point
er ; for on both sides of the Curtain - and rapidly
developing in Aia and Africa-modern urban, in
dustrial ( or industrializing) society renders its citi
zens ever more rootless in their local habitations,
ever more mobile, ever more atomistic. They do not
1PP1 their society. They do not seem parts of it. Yet,
simultaneously, the powers-that-be . . . for brevity's
sake, those of the state-assume more and more
control over details of the citizen's life, over the
. .. _ range of his decisions for his life, and over the en
vironment within which he must live it out.
It is perhaps platitudinous by now, but none the
less true, that inasmuch as a citizen feels he can
not exert any influence on circumstances shaping
his life-inasmuch as he feels himself the sport of
uncontrollable and unseen powers-he will "cash
his chips" or, as French argot has it, he will re
place his spoon on the counter. He will effectively
die towards his society. He will contract out of it,
and out of his responsibilities.
The free intelligence turns in revolt from this para
site of bureaucratic administration, tyranny, and hypo
crisy.
The citizenry - and particularly, primarily, the
thinking elite-will suffer a kind of schizophrenia:
on the one hand their social instincts will still be
urgent, but unsatisfiable ; on the other hand, as a
human-natural defense mechanism, they will decry
and debunk any form of social activity, for that
would identify them with the powers-that-be and
imply acquiescence in the various forms of deploy
ment of those powers. Thus " a sort of traitor" arises ;
not very many real, political, or military traitors,
but rather a vast number of non-citizens-citizens
of nothing, attaching no positive value whatever to
their society and its administrative State, having
no emotive affection for it, living as atoms in it,
fulfilling the barest minimum of obligations to "get
by," and generally betraying an "I couldn't care
less" mood.
That is the society in which we live, more precisely
in whiCh we die, Tomorrow, as the dozens of rival
Sputniks spin around the earth, men, women, and chil
dren will wake and sleep in a world which wl have
become the very valley of the shadow of death.
Once we close our ears to the slogans and the shout-
THE SELF-CONFESSED BANKRUPTCY OF OFFICIAL SOCIETY 7
lng, then the decay of human personality, the decline
?I human respect for itself, for its past, for any future
s enougI to bring nostalgia for the monastery. Millions
O despalr turn back to religion, that is to say return
to
.
svagery, for when modern men who have abjured
relIgIOn take refuge in it, then they are even worse than
the savage. The savage knew no better. The man of
today is denying centuries of human development.
Let us look once again at the supposedly stable so
ciety of Britain. There are among the British people
many who have pi'eserved B genuinely religious cast of
mind, and some of them denounce the USe of the hydro
gen
.
bomb under any circumstances, driven to this by
theIr whole Puritan past ( and helped no doubt by Brit
a
.
in's vulnerable position) . These people, mOal, serious,
smcere, hope for some sort of general disarmament. To
them, another British newspaper, the Manchester
uardia, for a century famous for principled . ournal
U, replles as follows :
There is about one chance in ten of that. The far
higher probability is that it would lead within a
few years to the extension of Mr. Khrushchev
'
s
kind of socialism to. all Western Europe and the
British Isles. We should be powerless to resist, ex
cept by passive means. The immediate consequence
(unless the West European countries contrived to
retain n American strategic guarantee, backed
by Amencan bombs, while Britain withdrew) would
be the likelihood that the recent Soviet diplomatic
thaw would be reversed. One country after another
beginning with Western Germany, would come undel:
Soviet pressure. Britain at first might be immune
but her turn would come. Mr. Khrushchev after all'
believes that the forces of history are oy{ his side:
The transition from capitalism to socialism is ine
vitable. "The emergence of socialism, " B he told
the party congress last year, "from within the
bounds of a single country and its transformation
into a world system is the main feature of our era. "
Russia's business, as her leaders see it, is to help
the process along by whatever means may be ex
pedient. Harsh threats are not expedient at present
for they have proved to build up western resistance:
But the objective of Russian policy is unchanged
I is a Communist world, under Moscow's leader
ship.
There aloe, nevertheless, many Christians and non-
58 FACING REALITY
Christians who believe that we ought to renounce
the bomb. They hold that its use could not be jus
tified in any conceivable circumstances. Are they,
then, prepared to face the agony of living under a
Communist system?
Are they? The Manchester Guardian is not unready,
It may be that the system, by the time it reached
here, would be modified. It may also be that, B
Poland's delicate treading of the razor's edge might
ultimately prove, an evglttion towards a milder
system is possible within the Communist State. Buf
the process must be anguishing. Merely to think
of Britain as a "controlled democracy" calls for an
effort of imagination which is hard to make.
They can make the effort easily enough for other
countries.
For people in France or the Low Countries it is
easier, because they have had the experience of
living under an imposed regime. They know what
it means to have among them secret police,. with
powers of arbitrary arrest, deportation, and execu
tion. And, since it will be said that in Russia the
police powers are being made less arbitrary,
should be remembered that leniency is least where
the seeds of resistance are strongest; that has been
shown in Eastern Germany and Hungary. We should
have to be ready to face in Britain the corrupting
influences already seen in Eastern Europe-the use,
for example, of children to inform against their
parents and, where parents are accused or under
pressure to "confess," the use of their children as
hostages
.
The system the Russian leaders have de
vised for their own country is one thing ; the sys
tem as it evolves through imposition on other coun
tries is another. Resistance in Britain by individ
uals and organisations ( churches, political parties,
and the press) could prove magnificent. But the
conflict, inevitably, would bring bitter pain.
The real problem, you see, is the children.
Such is the degrada tion, publicly announced, to
which official society has sunk in Britain. Charles II.
three hundred years ago, was ready to sel British power
and influence to the French king. But he did it for value
received, for money, and he had the decency to do it
secretly. This spinelessness, the sinking at the heart
and bowing at the knees, comes not from the enemy
without, but from the enemy within. If the Manchester
THE SELF-CONFESSED BANKRUTCY OF OFFICIAL SOCIETY 59
Guardian appears to pe a degree below the Times, it is
because the public for whom and to whom it speaks
prefers reality with less of the traditional trappings.
Never have modern Englishmen sunk so low. Yet these
are the same people WhO a few years ago astonished
the world by their bravery, fortitude, and calmness un
der U hail of bombs. And that is now exactly their level.
They can stand up under bombs thrown, or throw back
bomb'. Perspective beyond that they have none. They
have abdicated from leadership. They hold their posi-
.
tions by tradition, police, and army. They are going no-
where, ad none know it more than they.
This. the attitude of British liberalism to Stalinism,
is not in any way peculiar to Britain. The whole of
Europe is permeated through and through with this
readiness to capitulate to Stalinism. On the surface it
can be explained thus: must we first submit to military
occupation by the Russian army and rule by the Com
luni't Parties ? Must we then be liberated by an Amer
ican invasion? After that, what will be left? But that
is merely rationalization. Men have always been ready
to fight, to die, and to endure for a way of life which
satisfied or promised to satisfy their material, intellec
tual, and moral needs. Western Civilization no longer
ccmmands that loyalty. And if even Europe survives
the liberation, then what? Only the United States
mouthing its obscene rituals about Free Enterprise and
Democracy.
THE UNITED STATES
When Americans look at themselves in the context
of wOlld society do they take any different view of
themselves? The European face of the United States
is the daily Paris edition of the New York Herald Tri
bune Which is read all over Europe and the Near East.
On the editorial page of the issue of November 6, 1957,
VL can see the arresting title, "America's Non-Genera
tion." Describing the present generation of Americans
under 30, it but repeats the view of the London Times.
There is, then, a certain justice in regarding the
young generation as B non-generation, a collection
of people who, for all their apparent command of
themselves, for all their sophistication, for all their
"maturity," know nothing, stand for nothing, be
lieve in nothing.
What is this but a picture of social death? Ameri
can sociologists have registered and documented the
decline of the dynamic individualism which built the
60 1ACIG UEAIIY
United states into "The Organization Man," dressed i
his gray flannel suit.
Yet it would be a mistake to portray the self-con
fessed bankruptcy of the bourgeoisie in the U n i t e d
states by its pronouncements in publications CITes
ponding to the Times Literary Supplement on Loyalties
and the Manchester Guardian on the invading Stalinist
society. The same consciousness of failure, the same
self-analysis which is taking place in Europe in politi
cal and literary terms is taking place in the United
states, in characteristically American fashion, before
the whole population. Despite the distortions, it is films
and television that miror the crisis of American bour
geois society.
Blackboard Jungle put on the screen for the first
time the jungle which is, American education and rela
tions between teacher and pupil. Rebel Without a Cause
portrayed the violent rebellion of American y o u t h
agaimt their society and their inability to find i the
political and social institutions of the country any posl
tive movement for regeneration. Executive Suite, The
Man in the Gray Flannel Suit, and Sweet Smell of
Success show the former ideal of the nation, the suc
cessful business man, rejecting the code and sinking
into spiritual death or perversion.
Yet the most remarkable characteristic of these ex
posurel is that the exposers have no values to substitute
for those which they deride. The more talented the
artist, the more revealing is the bankruptcy.
The hero demagogue of A Face in the Crowd is B
television idol, supported, either naively or for dishonest
purposes, by every section of American society portrayed
in the film. The life of the intellectual is treated with
scarcely disguised contempt. The film catches perfectly
the attempt of official society in the United States t
organize in advance every social stimulus and response
so as to drown out any independent initiative of
thought, feeling, or activity. I the end, the film itself
is a example of the same methods and the same results
which it attempts t denounce.
As in the quotations from the Times Literary Sup
plement and the Manchester Guardian, so in the film:
the working class does not appear. In each case, there
fore, the result i's the same-an indictment of bourgeois
civilization by a self-confessed bankrupt bourgeoisie.
Europeans do not seem to understand that the Ameri
can public hal developed an extraordinary awareness
and sensibility in regard to these, its popular arts. I is
THE SELF-CONFESSED BANKRUPTCY OF OFFICIAL SOCIETY b |
famnar with the problems posed and recognizes in
stantly the social types thl' ough which these are pre
sented. What the American audience does is to reject,
often with gOOd-humored if not contemptuous cynicism,
the synthetic conclusion. Beginning from the problems
and the types of people placed before it, it works out for
itself the answers which producers and directors have
evaded-the inevitability of defeat.
FRANCE
To conclude this picture of defeat and death, we
could perh!ps not do better than to show what official
society looks like to the vast majority of the people
s

from underdeveloped countries, some three-quarters of
the world's population. In September of 1957 represen
tatives of the French-African colonies held a conference
at Bamako in French West Africa. They were mot of
them men occupying high official posts in the French
colonial system. They desired internal self-government
but they did not propose to break with France - they
advocated, instead, a French-African community. Many
of them were bitter anti-Communists. Yet one speech
shoak to the marrow the Fench politiCians and journa-
lists who were present. The speaker, M. Ouezzin Couli-
baly. Vice-President of the Council of Government of
the High Volta, led the discussion on the education of
African youth. What example did the state of France
offer to the youth of Africa?' None. Instead he asked
the youth of Africa to take warning against the spec-
tacle which France presented. In the course of a few
minutes M. Coulibaly told the African people why they
could look for example neither to France, to Russia, the
United States, nor to the French political patties, whe-
ther bourgeois, Communist, or Socialist. Here is the
speech:
THE CONSEQUENCES OF THE U. B. A. 5. U. S, S. R.
Finally, in the education of the youth, of our youth
which considers itself African, we have to put our
young people on guard against political satelliteism.
I touched on the subject earlier. The political satel
liteism of France does not cease to scandalize all
those people who wish France well ad want to be
lieve that there still remains something of a France
which was once great and powerful, that there is
still some will and energy which will try to mo
bilize the people of France around some hopes and
aspirations for France B an independent nation.
It remains only a hope. And while we are hoping,
FACING REALITY
we are forced to admit that the centers of gravity
of world politics have shifted toward countries that
are now new centers of power: the Russians, the
Chinese, the Indians and before long, the Germans
once again. As a result of this, politics in France
is sunk in corruption. We have to ask ourselves jf
Frenchmen perceive the ridiculous position in which
they are. The normal order of things is reversed.
The internal policy of France, based upon the needs
of the nation, no longer dictates its foreign policy.
Instead, the internal policy has to adapt itself to
foreign policy ahd this foreign policy is dictated
by the two international power blocs, Russia and
the United states. But we, the pOlitical representa
tives of Africa, who refuse to let our j udgment sink
into paralysis, we have to a'k ourselves if the
French Parliament is anything more than two dele
ga tions of Russian and American citizens on French
soil, whose business is to defend interests which
are absolutely alien to the country. No decision
can be taken on any question of French internal
politics unles' the external consequences of the de
cision are first taken into consideration. Demads
and plOgrams are j udged not by what they propose,
but by what the consequences abroad are likely to
be. France is no more than a dummy, behind which
Russia and the United states without any pretense,
fight out a merciless duel. In any discussion, no
one paYS attention to what the speaker is saying,
you seek instead to divine to which foreign ideology
he belongs.
M. Dalmas has stigmatized this national degrad
ation in the following terms.
"Our political life is completely alienated. Any real
sense of what is happening in the country vanished
before the need to interpret events according to
the strategy of the world conflict. We are power
less to do anything else, since the slightest gesture
at once becomes a part of one or the other of the
two enormous cog-wheels and has no existence of
its own. The obsession with international conflict
transforms us into a passive chessboard on which
the game is played by players who belong else
where. We find out about the strokes they bring
off only when we feel them on our backs."
THE DEPRAVITY OF THE BOURGEOISIE
SO it is that the pro-American French bourgeois
practices the diplomacy of the cringing small-time
THE SELF-CONFESSED BANKRUPTCY OF OFFICIAL SOCIETY 6J
thief. Arrogantly they demand that they must hav8
a place among "the great." Snarling, they defend
a prestige which is only paper, and they are happy
to snigger at "those idiots of Americans. " But at
the same time they humbly extend to the Americans
a begging hand and get into a terrible state when
it is spurned by John Foster Dulles ; the white
the economy of France moulders in a false security
of charity from abroad.
It is clear that we cannot look for inspiring politi
cal perspectives from a class that is exhausted. For
decades now we hear from the
-
representatives of

the classical Right Wing of French politics only 0

mixture of insolence and feebleness
.
They collabor-
ated with Germany when the power was with the
Germans. They followed Petain when they could
play the double game with danger, they j oined de
Gaulle when the "noble" resistance movement tri-
umphed in the drawing rooms.
. . THE BETRAYAL OF THE OLD PARTIES
As for the extreme Left, the Communists, they oUD
scribe to the dogma that the revolution is impos
sible without the Russian army. No longer are they
defenders of the U. S. S. R. as the bastion of the
world revolution, encircled by the capitalist world.
It is for them the only hope, the only force capable
of imposing the happy tomorrows of which they
sing.
This paralYis of French political life is above all
serious on the Left. For it is the Left which attracts
the youth. It is perhaps the first time in history
that the two great traditional parties of the massed
of the people, the Socialists and the Communists.
have thus "deviated." Their chief concern is no
longer to resolve the economic problems of a given
society in accordance with their principles. The
sole aim of each is to find a place for itself as
troops within a power bloc whose boundaries ex
tend far beyond them and which has no meaning
except in the perspective of war.
This is what the colonial people see when they look
at Western Civilization. It is to this that the United
States and Rus'ia between them have driven the vast
majority of the world's people.
There is no need to continue with this distressful
catalogue. What we have to ask ourselves is : why? We
have already answered this question in terms of the
0 FACING REALITY
fundamental relations of production .
.
But that is not
enough. We must attempt now to vl
.
e SocIety
,
as
.
.
a
whole, and seek within all its complentles
.
and l amlfl
cations some guiding thread which wIll brmg some or
der into what appears to be a universal chaos, to
J
ake
some sense of what appears to be the potheosls
.
of
senselessnes'. The bourgeoisie knows what IS happemng.
Of that there is no doubt. But it does r
ot know why.
If it did, it would no longer be bOU

'geOls. Because w

are concerned with the totality of eXlsence, the ans
:
el
.. - must be JI terms
-
of a total yjeW ,
_tlt
_
!s __ t(_ saX,_ a }1llo=_
sophy of life.
I V . E N D O F A P H I L O S O P H Y
. There is no mystery in what is happening to our
society. Men live their lives according to a philosophy
of life. They always have. They always will. They may
not be conscious of it. But when Roman Catholics and
Protestants believed that it was their duty to convert,
or, failing that, to exterminate each other, ideas were
part of a total philosophy of life. Today Catholics and
.
atheists can live peaceably side by side in the same
house and are more concerned with whether theii' neigh
bors are Fascist or Communist, with which political
party they belong to, than which Church they attend.
Obviously the view of what constitutes the fundamentals
of existence has changed. People do not need to be philo
sophers to have a philosophy of life.
Philosophers seek to ;ocmulate in precise and com
prehensive terms the ideas of their age, or propagate
i; new ideas, in whole or in part. All this would appear
to be elementary. It has to be stated, however, because
today the great stream of European philosophy has
various evil-smelling stagnant pools or little streams
that babble as aimlessly and far less usefully than
Tennyson's brook. One of the stagnant schools has dis
covered that the organic constitution of the human
mind is gloom, anxiety. dread, suffering, and all varie
ties of misery. The other begins from the premise that
all previous philosophies. misconceived language, and
they have set out to make language more precise. For
them a sentence which states "The future of humanity
is in peril," has no meaning. This they demonstrate by
devoting twenty pages to the word "the, " forty pages
to the word "future, " and so on. A popular tradition has
it that at the end of the great age of Catholicism the
theologians debated with passion how many angels
could dance on the pOint of a needle. Today they do not
seem so absurd in the light of the number of professors
who can dance on the needle of a point. In this way,
inquiring youth is corrupted and shepherded into pas
sivity before the crimes and evils of the day.
These learned obscurantists and wasters of paper
are of value in that they signify the end of a whole
stage in the intellectual history of mankind. Philosophy
as such has come to an end.
From Plato to Hegel, European philosophers were
65
66 FACING REALITY
always struggling to make a total harmonious unity of
societies riddled by class struggles. They were attempt
ing the impossible, organizing in the mind what could
ony be organized in society. But contrary to these mod
ern marionettes, they usually cleared away much that
had become old and rotten and at least formulated the
new. But the time for that is past. The development
.
of
scienee and industry has brought men face to face wIth
the need to make reasonable their daily existence, not
to seek in philosophical sys,tems for the harmony that
eludes them in life. Over a hundred years ago in one
. .
of his greatest passages, Marx saw that religious and
philosophical systems had had their day, and men
would soon face the realities of social life as phenomena
created by human beings, to be organized by human be
ings U concrete life, and not in the
.
escapism o .ab
stract thought or the mystic symboll'sm of rehgIOus
ceremonial. This intellectual clarification had been
achieved not by itellectuals but by bourgeois society
itself. So in the Communist Manifesto Marx pOinte.d
out that in good time men would face the world as It
was and therefore have ' no need of a philosophy to
resolve its contradictions. The 'ocialist proletariat would
reorganize society.
Conservation of the old modes of production in u
altered form was, on the contrary, the first condi
tion of existence for all earlier industrial classes.
Constant revolutionizing of production, unintenupt
ed disturbance of all social conditions, everlasting
uncertainty and agitation distinguish the bourgeois
epoch from all earlier ones. All fixed, fast-frozen
relations, with their train of ancient and venerable
prejudices and opiion', are swept away, all new
formed ones become antiquated before they can os
sify. All that is solid melts into ai, all that is holy
is profaned, and man is at last
.
c
.
ompelled . to face
with sober senses, his real condItIOns of hfe, and
his relations with his kind.
Philosophy must become proletarian-this stingi
7
g
formulation is the source of j eers and snee.rs or pO
;
Ite
smirks by the philosophically educated. It I8 nevertll.e
less one of the great truths of our time. Immense n

belS of the educated, now compelled at last to fa

e WIth
sober senses the real conditions of life
.
and
.
thel eal
relation' with their kind, fly off in all dllectIOns,
p
hilo
sophies of anxiety, dizzy gyrati
?
ns o he
1
eam
.
g. of
the word "meaning," rediscovel'lng ongmal sm, dI
V
g
into the depths of the human personality armed WIth
END OF A PHILOSOPHY 67
torchlights made by Freud and Jung, accumulating sta
tistics in the spirit of Mr. Gallup and labeling it soeio
logy.
Though confused and deafened by the clamor above,
1\ is the working class in every country more than any
other class which faces vel'Y lberly the conditions of
life as they are today and knows that the future of
human experience lies in the reorganization of these
conditions and not in dread, depth psychology, or the
ineradicable sense of sin. For the same reason, language
is today mor than ever adeqllte JQr the eXP:eQsion of __ .
human needs. This is not becau'e language is more
highly developed, but because human needs have be
come more simplified
.
With modern means of eommu
nication, there is not an urgent social problem today
which is beyond the rapid complehension of the vast
majority of mankid. Since the Greek city-state, it is
the first time in history that this is possible. There is
TU mystery in what is happenig to our society. If so
'many find it easier to accept the total destruction of
human society rather than s ee that a new society is all
around them, a society based on cooperative labor, it
is not merely because of greed, de'ire to retain privilege,
original sin. It is because, arising out of these material
privileges and re-enforcing them is a habit of mind,
a way of viewing' the world, a philosophy of life still
so powerful because by means of it man has conquered
nature
.
I has governed the world for over four hundred
years and now it has come to an end.
Beginning in the Sixteenth Century, mankind lib
erated itself from the static cloled conceptions of the
universe which had characterized the medieval epoch.
The study of science and the revolutionizing of produc
tion which had grown up within feudal society opened
up the perspective of conquering nature and subj ecting
it to human control. Copernicus, Galileo, Descartes, Mi
chelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, Columbus, and Shakes
speare are some of the symbols of the new age. For us
today, the most significant is De'cartes.
To a society advancing in science and industry,
Descartes gave a philosophy that expressed and released
the readiness to adventlle i every realm, including the
realm of ideas. His philosophy was imbued with the con
viction that every discovery contributed to the libera
tion of humanity. It inculcated freedom from national
prejudice for all thinking men. This philo'ophy bore
its name on its face-rationalism. "I think, therefore I
am," said Descartes, and the WOTld rejoiced at the per-
B
FACING REALrry
spective of the expansion of individual personality and
human powers through the liberation of the intellect.
This resting of self-certainty on man's own thought,
and man's thought alone, was a revolutionary defiance
of the medieval dogma which had derived certainty of
self from God or the Church. Rationalism encouraged
and developed an elite, the organizers of ideas, the or
ganizers of industry, the discoverers in science. At that
stage of human development they were needed. They
cultivated the individual personality. It followed that
they looked Upon the masses of men as passive unthink
ing servants of the active organizing elite. Rationalism
saw each human being as an individual, the natural
leaders being the most able, the most energetic, the
most far-seeing individuals. Its political form, as de
veloped by Locke, if only as an ideal, was democracy;
the transference of free individual competition into
politics. It was invaluable in the conquest of nature,
and under its banner reaction was driven steadily back
and the modern world was created.
Today the tasks envisaged by Descartes, the great
men of the Sixteenth century and their followers in the
Seventeenth and Eighteenth, are accomplished. The
preSSing need of society is no longer to conquer nature.
The great and pressing need is to control, order, and
reduce to human usefulness the mass of wealth and
knowledge which has accumulated over the last four
centuries. In human, in social terms, the problem of
mankind has gone beyond the association of men in a
natural environment to achieve control over nature.
Today mankind is sharply divided into two camps within
the social environment of production, the elite and the
mass. But the trained, educated elite no longer repre
sents the liberation of mankind. Its primary function
is to suppress the social community which has developed
inside the process of production. The elite must sup
press the new social community because this commu
nity is today ready to control, order, and reduce to hu
man usefulness the mass of accumulated wealth and
knowledge. This antagonistic relation between an ad
ministrative elite calculating and administering the
needs of others, and people in a social community de
termining their own needs, this new world, our world,
is a world which Descartes never lmew or guessed at.
As an actual liberating philosophy of life, rationalism
is dead. I is rationalism which no longer commands
the allegiance of men.
Yet on both sides of the Iron Curtain, it is ration-
EN OF A PHILOSOPHY 69
alism which still rules. Stalinist totalitarianism is mere
ly the material expression of the elite philosophy of ra
tionalism carried to its ultimate conclusion. Its philo
sophy of the Party is the philosophy of the organized
elite. Its philosophy of the Plan is the philosophy of
the organizing intellect. It is the attempt to take what
was living, creative, dynamic, adventurous in the early
da;s of science and industry and make it into a blue
prmt to regulate the infinitely complex life of modern
society. Its conception of the masses of the people is
that they are the means by whose labor and sacrifice are
to be achieved ends which only the elite can viSUalize
clearly. Hence the blindness, the moral degradation the
ehumaniztion which overtakes those who today p'ac
tlCe the phIlosophy of rationalism. Two philosophies the
philosophy of man's mastery over men and the philo
sophy of man's mastery over things, have met face to
face.
Fascism, Corporate State, One-Party State Welfare
State, Totalitarianism, all of these are ways
'
in which
rationalism attempts to adapt itself to the modern
C?mmunity. Thereby it not only obstructs the new so
Clety. It destroys all the achievements of rationalism it
self. ,he free development of the individual personality,
the nght OJ the meanest itelligence to wander through
the strangest seas of thought, alone if need be, this
freedom has been established as a universal principle
however limited it might be by the actual condition;
of existence at any particular place or time. It is now
an ineradicable part of the human personality. The
new society, the community of cooperative labor can
fun
.
ction adequately only if this free
'
dom can epand
to Its fullest degree. Today rationalism destroys it, not
only for the mass, but for the elite itself. So Hitler and
Stalin become the sole individuals in their countries en
ttled to any personality at alL Political parties ll par
llamentary democracies become machines in which the
individual must either conform or be ruthlessly elimi
nated. uman associations no longer are guided by
leadershIp, they pay homage to "the leader." That is
why "on both sides of . the Curtain-and rapidly devel
oping in Asia and Africa-modern urban, industrial ( or
industrializing) society renders its citizens ever more
rootless in their local habitations, ever mOore mobile
ever more atomistic. They do not PP1 their society. ,The;
do not seem parts of it." But a society of Workers Coun
cils in every department of the national life, and B Gov
ernment of Workers Councils? Ah! That, if yOU please
1
?0 FACING REALIT
will mean-the destruction of culture. As if for fifty years
official society has not been systematically destroyig
culture in it' most precious castle-the mind of man.
sometimes some scrap of reality appears for a brief
moment among the perpetual stupidity, lies, hypocrisy
and self-delusion which the daily Press mechanically
places before even its most pretentious customer. Thus
the London Times for April 18th, 1957, suddenly rform\
its readers:
It is, fQJ example, being widely said that the poli
tical and industrial conlicts in contemporary Brit-
ain arise from the fact that two fundamentally
opposite moralities, a bourgeois morality and a col
lective morality, are flourishing side by side and
that their respective adherents find it increasingly
hard to discover a common basi for discussion.
It is a peculiar idea that both these societies are
"flourishing." Let that pass.
There they are, the two societies. But we read on
and it turns out that the bourgeois morality is-Chris
tianity. "Conservative Freedom Pays ; " a Prime Minister
in the House of Commons, twisting and cheating like
a racing tout in the dock, when asked if American
planes loaded with hydrogen bombs are flying over
Egland; employers straining like greyhounds on the
leash for a government signal to have the showdown
with the workers ; professors sitting Q| late over Jung
to find reasons why royalty is part of the collective un
conscious (British) this is capitalistic society? No such
thing. It is Christinity, and the Archbishop of Canter-
bury is its prophet.
V. NEW SOCIET: NEW PEOPLE
Yet it is in agig, creaking, conservative Britain
that there flourishes as solid, as cohesive and as pow
erul a national concentration of the new society as
eXlsts
.
nywhere on the face of the globe. It is composed
of mlillons of men, with ideals and loyalties of their_
own. Here is one of the rare descriptions of them, as
profound and brilliant a description of British life as
has ppeared for years. From it newspaper editors, book
publlshers, and directors of radio stations would recoil
as if stung ( as indeed they would be) . But millions of
:orkers would recognize it at once, and it is the kind of
mformation that the masses of people everywhere need
and never get. It is an account of shop stewards not
only as a social force, but as human beings.
'
It would be impossible concretely and in detail to
how, in the space of a few pages, how the growth
m power of the shop committees, in turn enabled
the most advanced socialist to begin to see the
growing up of a new way of life and organization
(I think that is what State Capitalism and World
Revolution means by human relations) . But one
concrete exampJe is in the very center of the clash
of classes, at the negotiating committees between
the shop stewards and the managements. It can
be a shattering and highly formative experience
to observe, week i and week out, that there ar
two different ways of life on either side of that
table, and that the overwhelming preponderance
of all the claSSic human virtues is on the side of
the shop stewards. In an average works committee
meeting, the managing director is in the chair at
the head of the table. On one side of the table will
be the convenor of the shop stewards, and five or
six other stewards elected to represent the Shop
Stewards Committee and through them every work
er in the plant. On the other side will be say the
works manager, production manager a chief of the
planning department, and deputy of the works man
ager, the head of the drawillg office, and the sales
manager. An amazing dialectical revolution takes
place.
71
?2 FACING REALITY
J SHOP STEWARD IS FREE
The shop stewards, workers to a man, all of
them, fitters, turners, production line workers, are
no longer employees; they are no longer un?er t:e
orders of the managers or even the ma:: agmg
.
.
dl
rector; they are the equals of the managmg
.
drec
t But the managerial side of the negotmtlOns,
ty the managers, are the employees.
.
he ShO?
stewards are free and equal men, denvmg theIr
authority from the worker thy represert. The
managers ate mere employers hIred and fIred by_
the managing director. The policy of the manager's
side is set by the free discussion an free vote by
the Shop Stewards Committee. t s usual tht
there is as there is always, a maJonty and a mI
nority,
'
in the shop stewards' debates
.
; always a
spokesman of the minority is included I the ?eo
tiations to see that the majo'ity, in negtlatng
with management, is not unfaIr to the
.
mmonty.
No minority in a Shop Stewrds commlttee ever
feels oppressed there is free dIScussIon, and demo
cratic decision: The managemen; nows there are
divi'ions always on the workers SIde, ad always
try to use that knowledge. But ne.er, m all the
negotiations with employers at WhICh I have as:
sisted, or which I ever heard of, has te workers
side ever shown the employers anythmg but a
completely united front.
.
These are loyalties of the new age. These are mdeed
the classic human virtues.
MANAGEMENT IS TIED AND BOUND
, ,
On the employers' side, there is the unalllmlty
of bankruptcy, because with them they have a boss
who alone ultimately tells them whato d. If the
advice of a works manager and hIS pollc? ovr
weeks or months is accepted by the manamg dI
rector the boss, and it turns out wrong, he IS sac
ed E;ery individual manager is always under thls
t
:
'n But the shop steward negotiators are free

'
who are never penalizd in this way. Th

re
are no bo'ses, no sackings the Shop
.
ste
,
war ds
Committee. The average shop stward glo'les l the
battle in the negotiations, he gIves of hIS ?est a
ways ' there is no boss breathing down hIS nec .
It is
'
a matter of common knowledge that te shop
stewards in negotiations are ruthless" never to
.
e
atl' sfied and can always drive wedges mto the ar tl
,
t If a works ficial monolithism of the managemen .
NEW SOCIETY: ^V PEOPLE
73
manag'er is a reasonable man, yOU praise him to the director, and make him SUspect. If he is a harsh disciplinarian, yOU accuse him of provoking strikes. All these things are difficult to detail ; but
the total result is that the shop stewards' method of organisation, with everything that it involves, proves itself in every way superior to the way of the management's. The shop steward who thinks who is a revolutionary, values highly the systeu
which has made him what he is.
. . "THEY GLORY J THE STRUGGLE"
These are new men, new types of human beings, rt is in them that are to be found all the traditional virtues of the English nation, not in decay as they are in official society, but in full flower because these men
have per'pective. Note particularly that they glory in
the struggle. They are not demoralized or defeated or
despairing persons. Wages is the least of their problems.
They are animated by broad far-reaching social pur
poses, They are leaders but they are rooted deep among
those they lead. As is inevitable, they have in them
many of the national prejudices, but this is due to the
grip on education and mass publication of the decaying
official society. They are getting rid of these hangovers
and replacing them by virtues and qualities their an
cestors never knew. Careful study of the national com
munities of advanced Western civilization will show
that despite wide variations, all are based on the same
fundamental relations of the classes that exist in Eng
lal'd today.
In the working classes of the world, in production
relations and personal relations, there are being posed,
and foundations laid, for solution of gigantic problems
which have baffled the world for centuries. We can on
ly touch briefly on one of them-the place of women in
SOCiety.
WOMN AND EQUALITY
Capitalist society has by slow and grudging degrees
given equality to women. But it is the same abstract
type of equality that an individual welder or mainten
ance man has with another individual who employ;
10,000 men. Both are able to cast a vote and are there
fore equal. Just as Parliamentary Democracy ignores,
and in fact increases, the real iequality of different
classes of men in capitalist society, so women found
that equality before the law rid them of certain op
pressiVe and offensive feudal limitations, only to bring
Ii
T4 FACIG REALI
before them more starkly the handicaps of child-bear
ing and child.-rearing in a competitive society, re-en
iorced by the accumulated prejudices of centuries of
class society. It is in the United states, where women
are abstractly most free, that there is taking place a
colossal struggle for the establishment of truly human
relations between men and women. Among the profes
sional classes, as part of the general reactionary trend,
most women at marriage give up the unequal contest
and compromise with their most dearly-cherished as
pirations for equality. The result is the mounting di
vorce statistics and, where divorce does not take place,
an antagonism in sex and personal relations. For year
this aspect of American society was regarded with as
tonishment and often with distaste, not only by men,
but by women, in other countries. But the modern eco
nomy draws into cooperative labor or related activities
al sections of the population, including women. Offi
cial society itself can no longer defend the shaml and
vulgarity and cruelty of bourgeois morality. The result
3 that women everywhere are beginning to recognize
that the hitherto notorious sex war in American life is
in reality one of the advanced positions of the new
society seeking to make official abstractions into hu
man reality.
But as usual, though the middle classes often pose
i advance the fundamental questions of the day, they
cannot solve them. The United states more than any
other country produces a number of exceptional women,
career women, usually viragoes who by use of thei in
tellectual and other gifts transform themselves as far
as is humanly possible into feminine counterparts of
men and believe that thereby they have solved the
"woman question." Others have only to go and do like
wise. This is no more than rationalist individualism in
skirts.
The real battle for new relations between the sexes
is being fought above all in the American working class.
During the war millions of women went into idustry
and many have remained there. They have no money
for the elaborate home organization of the successful
career woman. They retain the desire themselves to
make a home and rear a family. But they have no in
tention of once more becoming an adunct to the male
wage-earner so that he can adequately fulfill the needs
of capitalist production. In the age-long struggles of
human beings to remould their world nearer to their
heart's desire, rarely have such heroic efforts, such

=
L

C
E
L
O

NEW SOCIETY: NEW PEOPLE T

courage, such resource, such ingenuity been shown as
in the efforts of American working women to live 3
complete life, a life corresponding to the technical
achievements and social relations of their highly-devel-
oped society. As long as official society lasts, they can- ; .
not win a complete victory, but positions have been
gained and if some have been lost, many have been
held. This, one of the greatest social struggles of our
time, goes um'ecorded! What have Congress, or the New
York Times, or Alistair Cooke to do with all this?
The working class in every country lives its own
. 11fe, makes its own experiences, seelng always. to cre-. ... . .
atE forms and realize values which may originate D!~
rectly from its organic oPPosition to official society,
but are shaped by its experiences in cooperative labor.
Nowhere is this more marked than in the United states
where the raucous rowdyism of Republicans and Demo-
crats obscures and drowns out the mass search for a
way of life ; not a new way but simply a way, the fa-
mous "American Way" being strictly an export commod-
it. Quite often, the reaction is for the time being
merely negative, but none the less indicative of the fu-
ture. In the American plant the shop steward, or shop
committeeman, although elected, is a functionary of
the union, whose main business is to see tha.t the com-
pany's contract is carried out. Millions of American
workers will not accept any position of authority in the
plant, neither as committeeman nor foreman, nor lead
girl. In the United states, so jealously democratic and
egalitarian in its social practices, these workers shun
like the plague any position which, as they have seen
so often, will transform them into bureaucratic tools of
the capitalist mechanism. They sometimes go farther
and deliberately elect or propel to these unhealthy po-
sitions, persons whom they recognize as being naturany
inclined to them. For militant Negro workers this poses
a specially difficult problem. As workers they share the
revulsion of their fellows t being drawn out of the
rank and file shop floor organizations. As Negroes they
are dedicated to seeing that Negroes are represented in
every layer of American society, particularly in the
plant. r.o accept or not to accept. Often the decision
is difficult. Such is but one example of the social dra
mas, individualism and collectivism fused, that are be
ing posed and worked out by trial and error in that
pulsing mass of working class humanity that seeks no
escape from the real conditions of life in existentialism
?6 FACING REALITY
( France) or psychoanalysis ( the United states) or play
ing with words and meaningB ( Great Britain) .
THE BARBARISM OF OUR TIMES
There is no mystery about what is taking place in
our society. Our age is the most barbarous, the most
cruel, the most sadistic, the most callous history has
ever known precisely because of the civilization, culture,
and high aspirations of the great masses of the people.
Nothing but the most unlicensed, unrestrained, care
fully cultivated brutality can keep them down. These
are not slaves of Imperial Rome or peasants in ancient_
Assyria. A modern working man, whether he is in the
plant or mine with his co-workers, lives by the ideas
of universal secondary education, religious toleration,
care of children and of the aged, freedom of speech
and assembly, mastery of technical processes and self
government in industry, world peace-elevated concep
tions which would stun into awed silence the most gifted
minds of Western Civilization from Plato and Aristotle
to Kant and Hegel. There is no more dramatic moment
in the history of philosophy than that in which the
young Hegel, after descrIbing the disorder and torment
inflicted on society by capitalist production, came face
to face with the fact that only the proletariat could
resolve it. Leaving the page forever unfinished, he turn
ed to idealism. Marx completed it for him. At the other
end of the scale it was the ineffable Joseph Stalin who
decreed that the more socialism was established in Rus
sia, the fiercer would become the class struggle. There
by in his own cabalistic manner, he declared the need
either for an oppression which would grow along with
the economic development.or the Government of Work
ers Councils. Official society seeks to excuse itself for
the horrors and abominations perpetrated by Hitler and
Stalin. The mud and blood are on their own hands and
faces. The triumphs of Western Civilization are com
mon to all its members and common to all of them are
its disasters and its decline. There is not a single na
tional concentration of power and privilege in official
society which would not mutilate and torture its own
population in the Hitler-Stalin manner if it needed to,
and could. Repeatedly we see in the Press that a hy
drogen bomb would kill so many million people and
render uninhabitable for some period undefined so
many hundred square miles. This in defense of "our
liberties" and "our high standard of living." It is a
criminal self-deception to presume that any home popu-
NEW SOCIETY: NEW PEOPLE 77
lati

n is safe from these defenders of the law order

fanIY, mo

als, religion, culture, and property of

'
officiai
sOClety agamst the new.
THE NEW NATIONS
The world proietariat, with those of RUSSia and the
uite States at the head, constitutes a minority
even m tl
:
e advanced countries. In these countries its
c0
J
c

ntratIOn and cohesion ae sufficient to make it the

gUldmg forc

and motive power of the new society. But
the vast maJorIty of the world's population lives in the
undedeveloped countries of ASia, Africa, and Latin
merIca. The abiding impudence of imperialism con
tmues to see hem a' objects of profit and of use ; at
the present tIme as prospective allies of one or the
other power bloc. The truth is that vast millions of
the

e p

ople are new human beings, ready for the new

sOClety m
.
that they have uncompromisingly, often vio
]enIY, r

Jecte
.
d the status of national humiliation and
SOCIal mIsery m which they were kept by official society.
.
T?e Russian Revolution shattered the structure of
offICIal Europe. The Chinese Revolution shattered the
structure of official Asia. The revolution in Ghana has
forev
.
er destroyed the structure which official society
ad Impos
.
ed
.
up
?
n tropical Africa. This should be a tru
Ism, yet It I8 Impossible to. approach any sphere of
even contemporary history without using bulldozer
and gas
.
masks to clear the barriers and survive the
fumes WIth which it is surrounded by the propaganda
?
orps of official society. Ireland won, it was not given
Its freedo
I
' Gandhi introduced a new dimension into
the technIque of mass struggle for national independ
ence and perhaps for more. His political genius one
O
.
f the greatest o.f our times, i obscured by the infla
tIOn
.
of Lord Mountb

ten. The latest, and perhaps the

most dangerous, addItIOn to. official mythology is that
the ne

.
state o.f Ghana was given its independence by
the BrItIsh G0

ernment as the conclusion to a period

of careful t

amm

and preparation-dangerous because
large areas m AfrIca are still fighting for their freedom.
H GOLD COAST REVOLUTION
!he ruth
!
whi

h is undergoing a systematic oblite

ratIOn,
.
IS qUIte dIfferent. Nktumah reached the Gold
Coast m November 1947, uncertain whether he would
be allOed to land or not. In one of the most remark
able
.
epIsodes in revolutionar history he singlehandedly
outlmed a Jrogram, based on the ideas of Marx, Lenin
and GandhI, for expelling British Imperialism from th
FACING REALITY
]8
c-.:c-..:u.a-....,a.a..--,....::.--.-::-,-.:.
the ,--,:- r:.-o-.a c-..:t:-.,.::.----.-,..a
SO0l1 :.:- r :.- o-:ac-..::-. .:..a.:.::...,-.-:.:
.:...- -.-: :.- .-.- --..::, .-.- ..-,.. ... s-rr
c-....-.: n- r.- n:.:... o-.-:.-.: , ..:-a :.-
.-:.:. ..a .-.,.: :- -:... :.- -.--.: na: .-.
.. -.-.:.-. ..--a :..: :.- :-.-..:.-..:, .,.:.: -r :..
,-,...:.-...a-:-:..-a..a--..a-..,t-.a,,:-..-a
t..-...- ....-:- .: a--.a-a:..:..-.. ....-:-
--..: .-., -:.-: a..,-:. ..a ,-...t.:.:.-. --::..-.,
drive :.:.. ait -r :.- c-.-..:. :: :.-:-r-:- .-
:...:-: ,....., :.- --.: ,-...t.- :.-- -. :.- .::-:
and [vl., ..,:.--r..:, ...:--a:a..:.:..a..:-.a,
lost.
We ..-:.r, :... r....r.-.:.-.. .-::-a..-:-a.: n:.:..r
i,-......:..: it a--. :-a., -:- -rr.-.-.:., :...
.. :-. ..,:..., -..-. w- ... :- a:. .::-.:.. :-
-.- -: :.- ,:-.: .--..: r-:--. -r :.- a.,. :.- .,.:.: -t
.-.......--..-..-....:-.:.-...:..:.-..-.-:,
. ..- ..:.- ,.t-. ..a :.- -.-.:..- ...a:.., -r -o
... ,-..:.-.. :--...,.-. t, :.-.: :-.a-:. r.- -:-.:.-:
-: :.. n-,.t..--r i.a..:.-t:a...., ...a- -rn.....
v...:., ..o.-|.:.. ..a n..t. .r-aa.r.-:.-....-
:...-a .-.-.,t,n:.:...,---: :.- -:,.....t..-r:r-
provincial :-,.-.., :.- .-::.., a, -r ,.::..-.:, :r-
--..:.:..-. -: :.- c-.,:-.. v.::, ..a :.- a...-:..r
..::..,- .. . ...:,,.:.:.. :.:,-:, .::.:-:.:-. ..a .rr
.:......-:..-.-.--..aa..:a:..--,:.....-.-
-::.-,:-.:-.:,-..:.-...-..-.--.:. -r-a:-.-:..,
-..-:.,-s..:.::,.:..-:,.....:.-.-r:.-c-..-.:.-.
r.,.-.v.::, -r o.... ..-.1s :.- -a:.:..a..,,-r.
:.-.. .-..-.--.: .- r.: -.::.-a -a: .. ::-,.-.r :r:.-.
...-:.-t-,..., -r .:.a.:--:.at-:a...:.-.:-ra:-
,-.. :,-:..... r..:.:.. .-: .. .--.a-.: .. ,:-.-a
by :.-r.-::..:.: ..,.:...-.-at,:.-n..-t:--.:
n.--:.:.,a- :r:.-... .n---:.:.- :-.--.: -r :r:.
-... .,.::,-:,....-at,:r:.-.....:.-v:-.-r--r-
..-.If .-.. a,...- :...:.-c-..-.:.-.v--,r-.r.:
:, .: -s---a. .: .. .--,-. t-.., :.- r-.a..,,.::, :.
--.-:.: --...-.. c-,:...., .., .rr.--. -r v:-.-r
w-.: :r:.-... .,:-.a -.-: ..,:-.. -r :i-a...a. -r
.,..:...-..c-,.:-a:-:.-.-,a:-r,:r:.-..-:-.:.-...
v:-.-. :,-:..r.. ..,a-:.a.., ..v,,.r.-.. a-:-:
..-a : .|-v:-.-r-. -a: -r :r:.-.... ..a :r-
n:.:... c-:-...r orr.--, .:. .:. ,-:,-:a.r -r--r-:.
,.--r...r:..,t:.-|..a..:-..rs--a:..-c--.r.,
-aat- --.-,--:.-r-..r:.-, a.a.-: --r-:-- thei
r--:....-...:..-...- ,a.. .-a,:..-..n-:r i the
NEW SOCIETY: NEW PEOPLE

T9
.,.:.: -r :r-.: ,-,ar.:.-.. ..a :.- ...

:.-,a:.r..-r-:.-,a:,-.-...ai .
-: ..-r
,-:.:.-.rr-:..-a:a-a..:.-w

:
:.--:a-:
,-a --a.::.-. .:- ,.:: -r:.-.- .
-

t
-a.a-.-r
-ra.:..r-,-.:.:.-:-.|:.-:t-.
--.,. .-:

r :.-
-:ra -s--,: :r-.- .:-.. ..-r na..
----,:-r:m :.-
s:.:-. .:- --r-:...., .. :.-.: a.rr-:-:
.

.- u-.:-a
b00,000,000 CHINESE
.
w- -.-:-: r-:- ,-.-:-. at ' 1
-r.,-:..r..r:- c.... :
,

-.. r :.- -s,a:..-.

:.- cr...,n..s.-| :-,.

-
_
:

.-
_
:,

:-.,:..:
:-::-..-.., ..a :.- cr..-.- c-

,.

:
--
-

:. own
:.|- -.-:.r... .. ::a- ta:-:r,..:
.
.:
r
.,-
:
"
:-
:. :r- ,-.:. 19
2
9-1939 cr...
:r-:---.:--.-rr..: -,.-. :.
,x..s.-| -s..a.:-a
.a-:r--rr-:::--:a.:.c
_,:-.:-.: -rr::.:-.-.
-rr r:- --.:.-: .:r:-.--
.-.-ca-..:..ca:
r-r::-.ra:.-...:.ta.r:.
, .-r.--ra-,

..a r..
:.r.:.-. : :.-.: -t; --:. .-
,
-
.:,..a...., .::.-:
r
..:-.-.: ..a :.
-

.-rr,:-.-:..t.-. r.-.::-...:..-- ::.

- .--a
cr...,n..s.-| :- -s:-:...:- :.
- .::-,: -r
,

.: -,.-. -r :-.ra:.-..:, .::

,,r-
-
r

. -.- -
:.-
:.-a t, ,-...-: -a,,:: -r :r
. -,

-:- ...
..a -.aa:..-- rr- i., :..-
-.:r-:-.

t...-.,
:r- sa:r:- :.-n-::.-rc....
-r 6OO .:-. r:-
:r-,:-.:-.:.-:.....r..::,..a
:|-. .:.,:.-- .-.,
.r.:.:, r..:-:, -r :.- r-.:.-:.-
..-a
i
:,-
s:.r....r.ar.::r- :- a- .:r :... ::

-.|.-=r-a,-:..:st.r..-,,-.-a:.
...- -.
t,:r-cr.--.-c-a...:. ircr
-.-..a:--r,-:
: s:.i....::-:.r.:.:..... : t
.r.s,-.-:r-.,
.,r.-.tr- r-.:.r.:, -r

.:-
_
.
s:
__
a.

.-

a
:. :.-
--.-:-,-.-::,.::.-|-.:...:r-

a.

,-:
r
..r.. ..a
t-- n-.-ra:.-. .: ... ..a

...O :.- o-:-

,.::-:. -r .:.

na..... .rr

-
n

ta: :
-
r-.:- :,-
r:::, ,-.:. :t- .. :.
. .:: .-: .--a
rr-a.-:a-r s:.r..rr
-

-::.r.:.:......--
:r- r.-:--: :.- -:... .::a,,:- r.
-.:- .--

..|..
n+..... -,.:- .. -s,-:.-.-.-
- . --|. ... :.-
..-r-.: a,r-...r. r.-r ...:
,
.
_
r:-,. :r- .:.:r -:-
,--:rarr, :r.. .. cr... ::

.
:
T t- r-r: .- -:-

-.a..- ... :-.-ra:.-..::- r-.

-
:
- .., :..: ::-
mg -r:r-,--,r- r..-:
- c

.:a:, a,.
...:-:,...a--:-a:..:
:.,r.--m c......a
:.|- ,r.-- .,....: :r- :-:.:.

:
I

--.:

|-,r.--..:will
...:-,.-.
rr-,--,r--rcr....a :. r
at
.-rr-:-.r.,.:.. .. 19
2
5
_
2
7
e
s:
-.
r
:

:.:

a-:..::-,

..... :a-a .: r.-,

80
FACING REALITY
supported the party and army of Mao-Tse-Tung. But
they themselves have not yet come
.
inependently upon
the stage as the Russian people dId m 1905 and t?en
in 1917. They will. The whole history
.
of the TwentIeth
century shows that they will. The Idea that a party
and a bureaucracy can shape the destinies of a people
of 600 millions with a great historical past, by mea
of plans and secret police, breed them, arrange theIr
) nd build factories as Texas ranchers breed cattle
Ives, a
b 'It ids
or Egyptian Pharoahs bred slaves and Ul yram ,
. - -
that is a characteristic stupidity of te Twntleth <en-
- -

tury official mind. All its own past

.
hIstory teaches It to
see the hundreds of millions of Ch:ne
.
se people as pure
masses the obj ect of politics, disClplmed by some su
perior
'
force, themselves, the Kuomintang and ov t

e
Chinese Communists. They bewail the anachros:l Il
lusions of Chiang-Kai-Shek. Their own are
.
mfmltelY
greater, and when Twentieth centu:'y han:ty comes
out into the streets of China and laISeS Its vOlCe,
.
many
eardrums hitherto impenetrable, may at last be pIerced.
THE IMPERIALIST IPOTENCE
But despite their numbels, theil le:olutionary spirit,
and thei demonstrated political capacIty,
.
the hopes
.
and
prospects of these newly-independent natIOns are blIght
ed not by the power, but by the weaknesses of the
.
ad
vaced nations. From the earliest days new natIOs
have depended upon the older, more settled
.
comm' r
ties for economic aid and political and PhIlosophlCl
ideas. Despite all the trumpeting
.
in th
.
e press,
.
the plaIn
fact is that capitalism today, neIther m RUSSIa n?r the
United states, can produce sufficiert surIlu
.
s capItal to
asSist the underdeveloped nations m ?Ulldmg modern
.
Only a socialist economy wIthout the over-
economIes.
f
o o
1
.
ty and
head burdens and incompetence of of I?I SOCle ,
the immense increase in the productIvIty of 1 a b o r
which it will rapidly develop, can produce the surplus
wealth necessary for the development of worl economy
as a whole Still worse, the political and ethlCal prac
tices and ideas of both the Communist word and the
Free World, if taken over by these ne:
.
ntIOns, would
be equivalent to the inj ection of SyphIlIs mto a young
man who has reached hi' maturity, in order to preIare
him to assume all his responsibilities. :he nw natIOn
know this and, even where they pay IIp serVlCe to free
institutions and Parliamentary D e
.
n o c r a c y. re
actuallY living through a period of Walmg t
h
O se w
rf 1!P t.wo rival blocs will emerge trlmp an .
NEW SOCIETY: NEW PEOPLE 81
believe that their ultimate fate is bound up with the
fate of the world.
This is true, but not in the commonly a c c e p t e d
sense. There is an America which is not Dulles, the
Pentagon, and the Southern NegrO-haters ; a Russia
which is not Khrushchev ( or whoever may be ruling
when this is read) , and the Secret Police. If we have
not written about, for example, Germany, it is because
we here aim to indicate only broad lines of development
with chosen concrete instances. The German proletariat
is one of the greatest social forces in the world, with a
theoretical and practical tradition behind it, in ideas,
politics, and labor second to none in the history of West
ern civilization. That it was not allowed itself to settle
accounts with Hitlerism is one of the twin crimes of
Russia and the United States. Similarly in Japan, but
for the American military occupation wearing the cere
monial robes of the emasculated Emperor, the Japanese
proletariat would have made Japan into a modern com
munity. It is here, and not in the decadent official so
Clety of Europe and the United States or totalitarian
tyranny in China, that the new nations have ' to edu
cate themselves. It i' on this new basis that they will
have to develop their perspectives. The imperialist men
tality of official society sees them always as poor rela
tions, charitable receptacles for economic aid, for tech
nical assistance, for ideas. It is false, false as every
other idea by which official 'ociety lives and which it
spreads in the world. The underdeveloped countries
need to be helped, but they have their own powerful
contributions to make to the new society. Already they
have assisted it by the great blows they have given to
official society. Today by their persistent neutralism
they impede, if they cannot prevent, the drive to global
suicide.
But there is more. Many of these countries have an
cient cultures of their own, with social values, formerly
despised, which now often show surprising affinity
with the latest discoveries of modern science and the
practical creativene's of the advanced proletariat. Fur
ther, their lack of economic development is not wholly
negative. It enables them to begin, without being bur
dened by the centuries of accumulated rubbish in ad
vanced countries, most of which is fit only for demoli
tion squads but is preserved by privilege and sheer in
ertia. On this virgin terrai beginnings of world-his
torical significance can be made in economic, social,
82
FACING REALITY
and ideological life. But most of all, they have the revo
lutionary spirit of their peoples and the political genius
which always accompanies it. They cannot solve their
problems except in a global context. But to the extent
that they envisage their own future 8 part of a ne:
world-order every step that they take to solve theIr
own needs
'
can at the same time serve as inspiration
and example to the advanced proletarians hacking their
way through the jungle of official society. Such a mu
tual relation between advanced and underdeveloped
countries is beyond the conceited ossification of official
mentality. Only its removal will allow the dammed
down currents to flow, and to flow both ways.
REQUIRED: INFORMATION
What is the relation of the middle classes to the
people of the new society? Some of them whose clei
cal employment approximates to that of the proletanat
see themselves as essentially proletarians and follow
the proletarian road. All are to one degree or anoter
shaped in character and outlook by the cooperatIve
character of modern- life. What they lack is what they
think they more than al others possess. It is informa
tion of the new world a-building which the middle clas
ses and the peoples of the underdeveloped countries
lack. It is understandable in the case of the people in
distant Asia and Africa. But in countries like the Unit
ed States, Britain, and France, the middle classes are
as ignorant of the social structure, aims, and p,rposs
of the industrial proletariat, as they are of the mhabl
tants of the moon. Every day their ancestral prejudices
and links to the bourgeois order receive loosening shoclt
after loosening shock. They have to accommodate then
selves to the rej ection of their claim to inherent spen
ority by colonial peoples, to the incompetence and dIshon
esty of their political leaders, and to the a?parently n
ending demands of the proleta.riat. Even m tJe UUled
States where their financial position for the tlme belng
is stili e asy, the old gods of the national mythoogy are
tumbling down and there is nothing to take theIr place.
Some of the publicists whose special function is to keep
the middle classes away from the proletariat like to
paint horrible pictures of socialism as a prison for the
educated on the Stalinist model. They do no get very
far with that. Time and again in recent hIstory the
middle classes have shown that they are ready to fol
low any powerful lead which will take them out
.
of t?e
morass of official society. Dominated by ratlOnalls
NEW SOCIETY: NEW PEOPLE 83
ideas, the middle classes, even when sympathetic to la
bor, judge the proletariat by the fanfaronades and
sycophancy of its official leaders. In generations to come
men will ma
.
rvel
.
at the lmost pathological inabilit of
educated oClety m the mIddle of the Twentieth Century
to recogmze the new society which surrounded it on all
sides. Yet so universal a phenomenon must have some
deep conection with the essential character of the two
societies.
THE ARTIST AND THE NEW SOCIETY
In previous periods of transition, the new society al . -
way announced itself in innumerable ways not least
n the literature and art of the day. The gretest names
JQ western art and literature, Dante, Shakespeare, Rous
seau, Goethe, Herman Melville, Tolstoy, Giotto, Michel
angelo, and Rembrandt, to name only a few, were all
men of the transition from one age to another, and we
:ay be sure that the people of their day understood
chem. But whereas for a century the finest minds in the
arts have devoted themselves to destroying the intel
lectual and
.
moral foundations of bourgeois society, they
3ve
,
bee? mcapable of putting into the concentrated,
lllummatmg, and exhilarating forms of art, either the
genera.l contours or the individual personalities of the
new society. Even in the hectic period of the Nineteen
Thirties, writers and artists either portrayed the waste
land of official society or explO1;ed new realms of tech
nique. You will search in vain the writings of even
pro-Communist writers like Koestler and Malraux for
any glimer of understanding that socialism or Com
munism i the sense in which Marx used the
'
word was
first of all a society of a new mode of labor of
'
new
social relations of production, of Workers Cocils in
every branch of the national activity. For all of them
the new society was the society of the Party and the
Plan.
Today the cry rises for writers to be "committed "
which is only another way of saying that they must at
t::ch themselves to one of the great bureaucratic social
and political machines : these cannot bear even to con
template any activity anywhere which does not sub
scribe to their plans and formulae. As if a man like
Dostoevsky, politically a reactionary of the most ex
treme kind, was not committed, as few have been com
mitted, to the task of showing men what they were and
hGW they lived, so that in the end they understood
themselves better than before.
FACING REALITY
81
If the middle classes are not helped by modern art
to understand the new society, if the Hungarian Revo
lution had to create without the stimulus and explosive
clarification of art, it is because of the very unpre
cedented character of the new society. All previous so
cial transitions were from one class society to another.
The present transition is from class society to a society
without classes. And that is no simple matter. Marx
was not throwing in a phrase when he said that then
tl1e real history of humanity would begin.
The idea of a classless society is a drug that official
society takes whenever it is feeling particularly low. In
the United states it uses the concept as a stimulus-
they are supposed to have it. In older parts of the
world it is a tranquillizer - the thing is impossible-
utopia. In the communist countries it is periodically
inj ected into the population to deaden the pain and to
summon up more energy for the Plan. Yet it is precisely
here that there is a bridge which the artistic life of
official society cannot cross and wastes itself in frus
tration and despair. Capitalist society has carried to a
dead end the traditional division between art, cuture,
learning, on the one hand, and the mass of the people
DI\ the other. This has previously characterized all
societies. yet in previous centuries the Greek drama
tists, the Spanish dramatists, the Elizabethan drama
tists, the builders of cathedrals, and the painters and
s(ulptors who decorated them, were still close
enough to the people to include them in all that they
di d. But today the
artists are so removed from the
people that their talents can express themselves only
in
pure
negativity.
But the proletariat also cannot create an art in
its own image
.
A society based on Workers Coulcils in
every branch of the national activity is not a
proletar
ian society. It is an entirely new dimension in human
living, and its art also will assume new dimensions. The
great gap between the actualities of life and the human
need for order and completeness
which could only be
satisfied in the abstractions of philosophy, art, and re
ligion will disappear. It will
disappear because for the
first time men, all men, will understand that their fu
ture will be shaped by themselves, i in their own hands.
Man will become the udisputed center of his
universe.
Great art always has been
and will always be the work
of individual men. But they shape their work in accord
ance with new frames of reference, which their work in
NEW SOCIETY: NEW PEOPLE
turn helps to define The ne f
8
so far, beyond the cmpI'ehen
w
.
ram
f
es of reference are,
b
.
SlOn O men tr ' d
'
ourgeOls-rationalist tradit' .
ale m the
and can train no one i
.
t
lOn
.
The
.
proletanat trains
tions which a

e not ev
!
I
e

oClal traditions, tradi

passed from generation to en . t
.ed except as they are
cal purposes. Even the gr;at
e

a lOr for strictly practi

Chaplin, D. W. Griffith and
e

l
artIsts o our century,
who worked for the p ' I
1e early EIsenstein, men

elcomed by it, were Ci

e and,

ere recognized and

?
lety and the reaffirmation o

d
rldlCu
1
e of official so
-
Jazz, and comic strl' p w-h -- th
- values. But the film
, ere e com
. ' .
comed what seemed to be arts
'
mon people wel-
y corrupted by official society
of t

ell'
?
wn, were rapid
It touches.
as I cOIrupts everything
, In official society the popular '
' +
tlCular are already h t
ar ts, teleVIsIOn in par-
|

, ex a us ed. Ed M .
c ar ed hIS weariness of its
'
t
. urrow has de-
denounced it with m
ll alOns. No one has
Milton Berle Thus the
ore wlthermg ferocity than
z
a
tions of official socie

ew
i
as well as the old organi
monarchy, begin to fall a
' O
[
example, television and
sure without, but from th
a

,

t only from the pres

crowned as well as crowned
evo of royalty itself, U~
So it is that at this sta of
'
t:e contemorary abortion; Whi
r SOClety art is either
stImulate wIthout satisfyin '
, rsp the nerves and
accepted classics which
g, or It IS a retreat to the
cause they are being u

re only half-understood be
t
h
ey were originally eX
;
I

siV

s a
T

omb
,
shelter, whereas
ye have to do without and
s

r
ere IS no help for it
.
mcmplete human beings les
so
.
m:ch

he poorer,
or mdividual. It is not '
s
I
fIt fOI lIfe, eIther social
production and political r
e
f
,
e y the , reorganization of
s

amp to the new society a

Ions whICh will
,
gi
v
e their
tles of new people Th d
d complete the mdividuali-
. e emocracy of A .
ae the greatest step forward th t h
clent Greece
m h
terature when it in
v
ented th
a
t
as
.
ever been made
reorganization now of s .
e raglC drama. The
l'Oletariat will release i

Clety on cla

sles
,
s lines by the
Ited environment It .
me?se energIeS m an uninhib-
. IS a mIserable
.
.
confined to the "higher standa d
' CIgmg mentality,
p
Ie,
" s
t
r
iving to hold on
t
o

at
Of
,
l
1
vmg for our peo
people where
they are wh'
It has and to keep
the only way out
is t

.
lCh does not understand that
selves, so tha
t they will
g
:
eo
P
Ie new visions of them

n
d
t
o crea
t
e new ties, new bo
ne
:
ways to express them
m
g be
t
ween those who ar
n s, an
.
d
.
new understand-
e now so dIVIded.
.;1 .
VI.
THE MARXIST
ORGANIZA
TION
1903-1958
w:.:::-...: =- -- :-:...:=:- ..- ::- we'
,Ve ..-::- -...-.. ,.-.,- .. ---., .-..:., r-
:.-- .--. ::.: ::-
:-:...:..... ...:- ..-
::- w-r:..-
-:.:- ..- --:r
-...-:.-. -: .:.:-
..,.:.r.. w- ..-
tl1at
.-
..,-.:::-.--.,.....:.-.-: .-..-:,:.-:r-
,.-..- ., ... .:-.. :.-
...-.-..:.., a...
-:-,..:.-

v.:-.-
::- z,....:
c.-.. w.. ..- w-..- w..
II,
..,-t..-.::-.--.-.,---.
.......--.--.-:,:-
-.:
.-..
-...-. -: x.-:..,..
OT
-::-. :.....: ,-r.:...
u- ....-::- -.--:w-..-w..I, .=:-.-.- ,-.
-..:.-.
-: .-......:. :.. ....-.. x..,:: -, ---.:. -
.-- :--.-
--,---
-. ..-::-. ..a-..:---
::.:..:.-.
.:...:.-. -:
,.--..:.-. ---. .-:
.::-. ::- -....:..
-
-.. -: ..,.:.:..:.-..-:,
-:.--..--..:---
::--.
...-:
::-
-:.:-
r... =-r.--
.--.:r-
r..:, :-- ::-
,-..-.
::.: .:.. ---
-t...-..:-a. .-....-:- --
,.---:::--.-:...r..--..:..a..,v.:...:
..--..:.
.a
..,.-...-a.-.:...:, ...:
..
--a.a:-t-. .:..:r-
----.: -: ...-. :..: :..
::--., ..:- r.t-.
n-
::.-.,:-.:
::- =-.:a .-=
:.:- ..-i-,- r.--
-.-. -=..-.---,
::-
---.:...n.......r-:..a ..-
::-
.---:...-...
a..,..,.v.:--.:-.-..,::-.--,-:
.,-.:..- ..
::- :..: ::.: a.., :r-
,..: ::..:,
,-...
::---..-a -: ::-.-:.
....: -.,.....:.-..r.. ---.-.-
-: ...-..---a:..:..-x:--..::.::..t--.
a-.-r..
---. ,.--.,.-..
x:- --:-.:.-a
.::-,: :- ..-..-
-...:... .-.:..:
=.::::-
=-..-...
::-
,.t....:.-. -t
,-,::-:. :--.-:...r , -....--.:, ,.,-- ..-,-
:.:...:.-....:.-.. ::-.,-...--....:.., ..a .-....:..,
-: :.-...: .:...... ::- ..:.-..r.-.:-:-..-.. :r- ..:-.
..:.-..: .-.:-.-..-..: -..a -...,, .. ..:-...:.-..r
..
....-. t-:
:--,-... :-t- .-r- :- ,.-- ..,..
:-r
..,.-:-
...-..: -: ::-
.,..:.a- -: :r-
-::-.:..
rr-
:-
.::.
:.-----.
,.:.:...
x-.. -: ::-....-. -t
----:--
t.,::-.. :-. .-...:..
:.-- -.r...:-a :r-.-r--.
..-
-.--a ::-.. .:..,,.-.
..
-...::...--
-.:
-::-.
..
.:
:.-.-.. ..-.-:..:.-,.-.:.,..::--.:..-.,-:.::--
-: .:: ::.: :r-, :.a:-.
--..--. ,.--.
:r-.: r.--. :-
v-: --.,.:-:r-..:...:-
-.:.
-:,-::r-
.....:...-..
:r-
.::.,,r-.,..a:r- :..ra.-.:r-r-r-::.,.-
-,-.
.-.- ...b
..-a.;:--.,
.:r--::--..
,r...:,
86
TH MARXIST ORG
Tb
=
ANIZATION-1903-1958
ey all consIdered th
87
as the nucleus of the
p
:
y
Or:.nizations and themselves
:
!
d
f
p
a
r
ty ich
@ d
es
::: :
d
t

onl
Y
t
party, the
. . or SOCIalism.
ne 0 lead the

.. .. :.: :a..-a ::-

r

-
..

.
-
-
-
-

.
.
-

.. |.: .. .:,.., :- t- a
-,.-.:-..:-:.-
.
-.- -.:, t, a..
-.- .-- :..: ... -
LENIISM TODAY
i-:a. a-t..--a. :-..

.- ::-.- ..:-rr-.:..r...-
_..t.-ra:- ,:-...... We
,

:-:
.:-....r,.-.-..
_ _
.

:
_
-

r
:.--t--. .r-
.. ..- ::-.--..-
-. - --.-....
-..-....-:.-..,.-

:
_:-.

-
:
.r- .-.:..a.., :-
, ta: -..-..
-.. ..r.t-:-t
:..,,
-
r.:...-.-i,
.__..a- ...-... ..a ,..r
, ::- : t

-...:-.. -

-.. r..:-.:-t ::

-. , ::- -.a-
n----.a.:::-.

- .

-..r..: .-..-:,.
-.tt-. -. a-.:....r ,-
:-.:a.r. ..--..--..,::
,---..-- t, :r
-, :.- t--.
a:.-. ..a ::
'
-,.

.: --,-..-..- -t ::-n
.

,-.-..r
- ..:..,. ..-
a..... n---
-..

-tr-...i -.- -t:

--.,r-

-t r-... +:-
-
..a

..a::-t...:.:.
_
.

:,-r.:..
i
:.a,:. -t
., ,....a:.. .r... ta: t :
--..-.,.:.-..-:-:

:-
t
-:. -t .- v.:-..:
0
.-

.. .-..-:, .. ,-.-:.r
,,..
,_
:
.
_

...- t-. a.
_
:
v
__
.
:..-r
,
R :.: ::- na-
-

. --,-..-..-. .:-a- .-:r

-
'
-t
.:-. ::
,... n---ra:.-. :
lI a.
::- :i
- specific -:,.....:.-..r ::
.. a...:...r,
j
:
-
.
'
-t ::-
,
..,a..- P :
--., -t i-...,.
-. -- :--: ..a t:...:.
.., a.: .- t- .-
I .. . ,.::..ar.-::

t.:.,- -ta---r
--.,, --..,.-a :- .a.:

-t .
-,-.:-t.-..-:
. .,--.
-: , .r... ----r-,-.: r.
] _.- . .,-..t...:.,-
.,..:.r:-::---,, ..a:-
..

:.,- -t .-..-:, ..
:, .:- .- .. ....::-...
,:..

:.-- ::

.: -.: .::
to -.- t-: -: ..-::---t :
..-, .t ,-:...:-- r. r-.a
t.-.: ::|.,-a.: -

:
:- .-a.:-::---ra:.-. r:
TE THEORY OF M
0 .. 0 ,a.,--a-.-r--. -t.:
-
ARXIST ORGANIZ

w:.: .. r-.... ::
ATIONS: 1903
..a-:
--:,: n-.-.:

. a..t.,a-a. .:.:-
..I ::- .r-..-.
uf ,-r.:...r--,-..:.-. i:
-.: -t::.: ,:-.: ..:-.
n--:.::-.r.1903'.
.--.t.-:..What Is To Be
n -:a-::-t-tarr,,:- .:

lg -r... :---ra:.-..:
, --t-::..:...::--..
slOnal :---ra:.-..:,
, .r.- t-.-- . ,:-t-.
. . , e -- .-: :-.-,...- -a.
.

...
88 FACING REALITY
-.: :- .....: ---., -.,.tr- =-.|-. :- t--

.
,.-i-...-..r .,.:.:-. -.,....-. ,.:,.,.

-..:

..:..- -..:..t.:-. -:-.-:-

i.::...-.,-- -
: :: . ,-..:.--r, .:.-r.r ...- - -....-.,
: : r- t- : : ::- .t.r.:, :- :..t..- ::. -:.- . -. .-

: r--| .: ::- : ---..- .-..-- =.:: .,--.. -..-.

-.

:.-- :.- . :..-.-- :.-. -.-

:
-..
u.
:
..--.n.:::-,..--..:..-,-.r--:r, -.
r
-
r
-
:
.
: :::- .--..,----..-::--r.-,.-.:r,,.- - .
: : r.-::-...|.. -:-.-.r., -.,.tr- .,.:.-. . --
tr

::-, .:..:-r, :., :-,r..- -.-., -.,.

- n--

-
......-:-..-...-.. ..=.rr -..tr- :.

`-...-.,,r,:....r.:.-.:-::-.:-.: . r

. .-- . ,..r-...-..r .,.:.:-. :- .. -.-...,-

-=.--.::-r.-r- -r:...-:.-.:, :- .,.-.-.:r.

-.-r.-:-.,:.::-:-r--r:..:..--

r.- -

r: :-::- =:-r- --..:., n- .-,...-.--,-.-.--

--:-..:,..:..,..r-...-.:..-.:r-..---

|.-=r--,- .--.-..-. :- -t.---.

- =.--

:..
n' : r-.a-.. r.- -::-. r--.r.:.-. ,.--.: ,
,.

.
:- .:..--. :- ...- :. ::-..r---r

.
,.::..:.
:
.
.
-
.
r

-
:
,
-
__
.
--

-
.-.:

, -r... -....-.-.
: r .-.-:.-.. =.:: ,.-r-...-..r .|.rt, =.::-.:
:
.-
r-

: ,-.. .:.tt-.....,, ::-,.-r-:.-.:-...- -...

:

::.. =.:: ::- ----rr-.:r, :....---.-, o., b

-r ::- .:., -rn-t-r ..- a.-- =., -..-.
: ,.--:-- r.- ::- ...|. -r ::--.|, -....

a:--..:..- ::.:. +:- :-r- :r--:, n- -.- -.. ..

ir:: :r--.,

::.:-r:-.....,. --.,. -r-r.:-=-.|-.. - ..

. v..... .: =.. t--...- 8 =.. -....-- :- --:.--. I

r:

:.: j-... =..:-. .r-.

.--
_
.-

.. .

-.:.-.tt
s :.|-. ,r.-- --., r. ,-

.
t- --.- --r.t-..:-r, .. r--- --..:., ..: O ....
: -.. i:.. :r- ,-:.-- .,.:-.:.-.rr

t, -..

-.
_
.

:-.

..-. ::- ,-..t. ...- .:.:- -r+..

.:v.
r
..
:

.
,
:.-: r-
,
--- ::.. --.--,:.-: .-..-.., ::- .---....
.-:- ....- -:...-r..

.
: --:.-:-.:. -r .,--..rr, :..-
w:-. =- .--
:: ,r
-.|..,-r....---r.:.-...-.
.
:
t
-
--- .r. 1 ,-... -r ,.-,...:... ..
. th
-.,

,
- ,-r.:.-.i ,-r.--M e :.-....-. -r .rr ... .

: :r- r--

tr : --.:-.- .,..
-.r- =.rt t- .
:
-
:-. .t.-r.:-r, ---:- .a
::-.- --:.-:-.B -

il :r-.-r--. -.,-, :r- r-,.r :- ::- .---r.:...

r :r- t--.
.t.-r.:- --.r.--.-- ..- ---.:...
...-.-r::- =-.|-..
THE MARXIST CBGAlIZATICl!9OJ-1958
9
+:- ..,.-.:, -r ::- i-.....: -.,.....:.-. .. r.....
.. -.-:-::-,-r.--..:..- -r ::- +.....: .:.:- n..
i--.r..::-o-...c--..ro---..-,, ..-.:..,, i--.r -r .,--..rr, .-r--:--. .,--..rr, :....-- .---r.:.-. .., .--..r..:. .,.:.:-.. .---r.:.-....-..
n- :.rr . --.:.., .r:-. =:.: -- - .--: +.- :....--,.-r-...-..r .,.:.:-. ::- .---r.:.-..., ....:..: :,,- -ri-.... -., .. :--., ::- t.... -r ::- t..-.. -..:.-.-:.--.-r::-...-..::-,-r.:.-.r,..:.-... ::-,---..-.:. c.-.-:, :.. ---- -. ..---::.::.- ..- ::-.- -r.:- :,,-. :.-- ..= t---- :.- ,.-.:..: -t.:.-r-. :- ::.: .-r-..- -r ,-,.r.. -.-.,, ..- -.-. :.-- ,--. :.-::.. .r.,. t--. ::- -.: ,--.r.r -:.-- r-.-- .. ::- -.-.:.-. -: . .- .--.-:,. t.,. ,..-. -: ::- .--.rr-- r.-- w-.r- .,....: :-:.r.:.. .....:.. -t.-..--::- r.-:::.: ::..,..:.-.r.. .--..r ..- ,-:.:.-.r :,,- .. .-: .---.....r, . c-a-..:

a- --.-..,:-::-,.r.:.-.r-r..:- -: ::- --..:., :- r.--. in. :-.,t-.c-....:-....t.-..:.c-....:

i. ::- u..:- c:.:-. -. .. n..:... ,-. =.rr r..- :. -. ---.,..., -: ::- r.---. -r ::-...-. -. ::- t.--. r..:, or:-. .-rrr-.. ..- ----:--:- .. .-:..r.-.-.: rs -.,.,-- .. . --.,-..:- .:..,,r- .,....: . ...-. -. ,-r.:.-.r t..-..-..-, n.: :.. -.r, ,-..,--:.-- .. ::.: -r ..t.:.:.:.., . -.- ----..:.- -.- -.,.tr- --.- :-.-.: .-: -r t..-..-..:. o. =:.-:---. ..-- -r ::- i-.c..:...:-...:-..::--.:.r-.-,-r::-.:-, rr--. -.,.....:.-.. -r w-.|-.. c-..-.r. .. - - - T, t...-:-r ::- ..:.--.r .-:.-.:,. ..- -: . o---.~-.: -t w..|-.. c-..-.r. .. ::- -..-.-- ..- --.:-.: -r . .- .--.-:, w:-::-. :- .. c-....: -. ..:.c- ....:r-.:.::--.|..,-r.......-.,.tr--r.-:.., ..---..r.rr, .::-.: . :....-- ..- ---.-.:-- r-.--. .:.,n-.-..::-..-..:-..r--:.-...:.-.:,.-r-..- --.:-.: +:-.--..r :,,- ::- .,--.r.-,-..-..r.:, =:.-: r-.-- ::- .,-..:-.- -r ::- -.|-.. ----.: ..- .--..r.. .: ::- t-,....., .:::- --.:.., .. :--., ::- .-r.- --.-.r ::- t.-..-..:.-.-.-:.-. .. ---., .--:.-. -r ::- -.|.., -r... ----.:

+--.,::-=-.|.., -r... :.. .-.----r ::-.- ,.- r-:.....:-...:.. i: r.. .....-- .: . .:.,- :-.- .t.- ra:- r.---- -r -.,.....:.-.. --,r-:- ----..-, .. --: .. ..,...:.-. t.: ::- --., --.:--: ::- =.., ..- ..r -r.:. -..r, --..:-.-- a-....:..:.-. .. ..-: :.. t:--- .r.-. :- .: I .. ::.. .--:- .. ::- ----r-,.., .:..-:a.- -r -.,.:.r.. .:.-rr :.-: :.. ,..-..rr, :....r-.-- ::-...-. ..- r.t-. ,..:, .-....:..:.-.
FACING REALITY
90
:
:.-.....:..-.:-:::-=-.|..,

-r... ..:
-

.
__
...:.-::, ..- ..--.:.t:,.
:
::-.

,
.

-r

.., ::-
-: .-.-:... i.::- ,

..O
:.:.-. ::- -.,.....:.-..
---:..- -: ::- v...... ---
=-.|-. ..,..rr,:..r--:-
.:..:-::--:..:. ..-.--..--

- ..::- ,-.-..:.-.,.-
do =:.: ::-.. ,.-----..-..

A - ::.. .. t--...-
- :: v...... v---r.:... .
C6 , -
:
:--- =:.: .- r--,-..-----:-
:.-, :.--t--. .,,
t -
:- --.- ..- =:.: ::-.-:-.- --.:- .-: - -.-.

w:.: ::-. .. ::- .-:- -: ::- :..-..: -.,...:.-.
:--.,:
THE MARXIST ORGANIZATION TODAY
F" : -: .:r ::- :..-..: -.,.....:.-. :.. .

.---
:.`-.:-,.:.:,:- ..,---,.:.

-..:-.--_

:.-

:.-.i.--,
..:.`'r
-
.-':::- .---:-
:.r.. =-.-. 1
-.--. :- .--..-- ::- -...- -:
.

.- ::-.---. ..
: : -.,.
:

: -- .- .: ::- ,.-.-. le.

.--..r.. +

-, -.
:

.
-- .:..r-.,.. -:... .--.-:,
..-::-,-.:r --..-
-...:.
N
SOCIALIST CONSCIOUSNESS ND .ORGAN:ZTIO
:- ::-
+:- :..-..: -.,.....:... .. :.-..:
:
-:,
:

:..
: -..: -: --,....- ...
---.: ::.: .::.|-. ..1 . |
: :-- t, ::- .
- :.-: :.. t--. ---....
-.-.:.: 1 -. =

:,

::.: ::- ,.-:-:....:

b 1 ::-., -:---.. ..-.-

: =..- ..

: -..--..:..:-.:,t,.:-
...-.::-.:..--.-.

: t, ::- --., -..-.

. ::- --.:...,

::- , -

-..
_
-
d
-
,
. .--.-:, ----:-,.
.:..--. -:

.:.
.:
-

.
..-
-
-;-..-.-...-... -::.

.-
:-.. -:r.

-
r : =:.-: --..:.:.:- ..-..r...
..:.-.. -:.-: ..- ..

..

..
s--..:.. .. .-::.., -::-.
:
,- -.- ..-
-.:,.

-.

: ::-,.-r-:....: -....-- :-
:
,,.

:- .-::

.
'

:-:....:-::--.,:-.-.:-
--
.:.r:..:-:..:+

-
. ...:. -.,:--., --..:-.--
--.-, ::- .-r:..,.._.

-.
,.-:-:....: ..--. -.,.:.r..
..- ----r-,-.: O L -

.- .:.:-.-.:
r-.-..::-=..-..--..
r
:
|
..: -
t
._
:
-._

.
=-.r- t- .-r-
r..- :- ::-.- .:: :. . .
....::-. ..- .-::.., -r.-

.
. 1 --. -. ::- :..:...-.r .-.r-
+:.. -.. t

,r.,
v......v---:.:.-.-: 1905,
,:- c.
=

..-
'
1
.
71
,
:

-
1917 ::-
s,..
:v---r.:.-.

::.v......v---:....

..--.:,::--.:-..
::-n..,.....v---:.:-..:--
: ::-,.-r-:....: :- -:
-.:.- .:.,-.

-: ::- ...,,-
- :- .---..:..-: ::- :-
,....- .:.-:: --,-

--.::..
::- .:.,-.-r . -..
:
,
.:, -: .--
.r.

:.:

.
-
-

r :

--...- ::- .-:.---

:--:.-.: ,..,.-...-.. ..--1

l
THE MARXIST ORGANIZATION-1903-1958 91
-.:. -: -.-: ,-..-- ..- .t.-.t-- ..- ..-,...-- ..
::-,-..-- :-rr-=..,.
+:- .--.::.: ::- ..--,-.--.: -.,.....:.-.. -: :.-
...-. ..: .-,r.--::- t..-..-..:.- t-..,--.. .,,..
.:.. -: ::- .:.:- =.. :...:.-.:..-- t, ::- c-..-
I =.. ,..:--:- r..::-.r..:.t, ::- c--.-:. -: 1905
..- 1917. +:- -..- -..:-:n..- ..-r-... =..
.-:::.: ::-,..-.:--::.. .--. =:.-:::-,=-.:-.-:
:.--t--..t:-:---....,-..-r: =..::.:::-,=-.-
.tr-:-.---,...-::-.,-.:..---:::-.-:..:.:-,.:.|
-.t,::-=-.|-..:.-r.t-:.:-::-.--...-:-a-:-.-.:
.,....: .-.-:.-..., .---:-,..:. +:- .--. -: =-.|-..
...,--.: -: :.-:-..-. :...: .--..--- t, :.- u.
....v.-:-., c-.::--. -: 1917, =.. .-..--.:-- t,
::-=-.|-..-:c.:.:-.....1936-1937 ..-:...-=t--.
t..rr...::,.-.::..--t,::-w-.|-.. c-..-.r. -: u..
,.., .. 1956. oa. :..| .. :- .---,...- .:. :..-.-.:.:
ia,-.:..--:--r.t-..:-.:..-:---:-.-.:+:-.---,
.:.-.-:::...--..:..:-.-.:.--.-...-.,=-.|-.....
--:t- --.:..-- :- ,.-.: :..:-..-.r ---...-.. +--., ..
.. :..-.- .,-.:..: :- .---,...- .: .. ::- .,:-.- -:
a.,:--., .-:.-.:, w- :.-- .r.-.-, ,-..:-- -.: :..:
in ::-:.-:-..-.=-.|-.. ----:-, -::--. ..- :-.. -:
---,-..:.-. -: .:..r :-:, ..- .-r.-...:, -: -.,...
..:.-.=:.-:.r.-.-,..:.-.,.:-.--..r..:.-:.:.-.. u-.-
.i.-::-:..|-:..---r.:.-..., -.,.....:.-...,:....:-
.---,...- ::-.- :-.. :- --,:... ::- ..,..:.-..-- -:
::-. ..- :- r-: .:.-r: t- ,..--- t,::- .. =:.: .:
.. --.., ..- ..=:.:.:....,..,.
+:- .--.::.:::- -..-.,.:.-. -::.- =-.|-.. =.r:
t-::- =-.|-:::-=-.|-..::-.-r--... ::- :.:-..:..-
::-:-:.r:..::
i:...-: -.-.,.:-..,::.:::-=-.|..,
-:... .r-.-:..::-.---...., :-.-- :-.-.:..-.:. -..
-.,.:.-. ...: ::- =-.|.., -:... =-.- :.- .:-. -: ..
-.,..-=.::..:-rr--:..:...--:...-...- -.,..- -..-
-... +:- .-.:.:, .. ::.: .: .. ::- =-.|.., -:... .:-.-
=:.-: .. .tr- :- ,.--.-- ::- -.,.....:.-. ::- :-..
..- .--.. =..-: ::.. -..-.,.:.-. --..-.

THE BLINDNESS AND FAILURE OF "THE VANGUARD"

r:...t.-r.:-r,.,-..:.--:-,.:..-.-:-::-:-,-.-
of ::--..,a..-=:.-::..--...:--::-.---:.:.-.
] ----.::-..-..,---.--.=.:: ..-:-.:..:.-
,:.- .-..::. n- -.- --..-. ::.: .. .. ---., ,.-., -:
r... t-..,. -.::-.--:..:.-.. --..:=.::.. ::- ,.-r-
:....:.:.-r:.. .-,..-:--:...:,-:.--.. ..-.::...--.
-..:....:, ...-:.-. .:.:..-, -:- n..:--.,::-.--.
JS ..:-.-.:.. ::- :..-.:.-..r -.,.....:.-.. ..- .. :.-
.,--.:, -: .r: ,.-.-.:-., ,.-.,. ::.: ::-.- ..:
9Z FACING REALITY
be a body of sharply differentiated individuals who must
separate themselves from the woring
.
class and so
form a permanent organization WhICh IS more con
scious, more militant, more coherent n its actions
.
than
the great mass of the workers. This IS pure and sImple
delirium. The people who consider thems
.
elves as "the
vanguard" are not in general more COnsCIOUS th

n the
"backward" working class, except from one pomt
.
of
view which is extremely narrow and limited and WhICh
in the end, on account of its
.
limitations, becomes
.
a
negative element. These self-styled eaders -. are consCI
ous on the purely "political" level, In that they know
(generally very badly) the history of the workers'
movement and the elements of Marxisn
-
reduced o
their most simple formulae; they are mterested In
iIternational politics ; they know the names of the
ch5 ef ministers of such and such a country, and the
number of deputies of such and such a
J
arty. But they
are in general unconscious of what constItutes te
.
most
profound realities of capitalist society, the reahtIeS
.
of
production. Often even when they c

me from the ork

ing class and remain in the factones, they under go
curious optical inversion in that the

can no longer
see what takes place in the factory, bem

totally oc

u
pied in carrying out a political line wIICh they br

ng
from outside. Their usual aim, irrespectIve of anythmg
else, is to make the workers adopt
.
the line and slo
,
ans
of the political organization to WhICh they, men of the
vanguard," belong.
Even when they do not uhdergo this p

rversion,
they are sometimes unconsciously led to consIder that
the elements who are the most exploited and "the

ost
backward" among the workers have ittle to contr

bute
to the struggle and nothing to contnbute to
.
the Id

as
of socialism. This is their greatest error and It falsIty
is shown by the whole past history of workers strug
gles and what is going on under their very noses today.
WHO ARE THE BACKWARD ONES?
But the final judgment on the concept

f "the

an
guard" considered from its point of view IS conta

ned
in the history of workers' revolutions, tl

ose
.
I

evoutlOns
which should have been the supreme J UstIfICaIOn of
"the vanguard" and which should have proved Its ne
cessity and placed the seal on its hist
?
ric 101:: Instead,
this history is a merciless condemnatIOn of the van
guard." On every occasion "the vang

ard" ha

found
itself far behind in relation to the actIOn and Ideas of
THE MAHXIST ORGANIZATION-I903_1958
93
the masses in the revolution; on every occaSion, instead
of showing the road, they have dragged lamentably in
the rear, trying with great difficulty to adapt themselves
to events ; on every occasion it is the most exploited
elements. the most "backward," the most humble, who
have been the most audacious, the most creative, the
ores who have carried the movement forward without
f;.ltering as far as it was able to go, and sometimes
further. SUch was the considered judgment of Lenin
in 1917.
1 vanguard is S valguai'd only in special circum-
s"a.lces and in relation to certain very narrow purposes
.
It has no advantage in itself. There is not, and cannot
be, any permanent selection of a group of inclividuals
able to direct the working class. In ordinary times the
only chosen body of leaders who can lead the workers is
he one which helps to keep them under the yoke of cap
Italist exploitation. What else is the daily function of
Stalinists and other union bureaucrats ? And periods of
g

'eat social crisis are periods of great social crisis pre

clsely because workers are no longer listening to leaders
but are acting independently in independent organiza
tions.
Not only is the Marxist organization not B "body of
leaders. " The problem of leadership is a false problem.
Men have always had and will always have leaders.
A member of the Marxist organiZation can be and often
is the leader of many thousands of men. But during
and after the struggle for socialism, there is no other
leadership than the workers organized in 'orkers
Councils.
BOLSHEVISM AND STALINISM
Every nail in this coffin must be driven firmly home.
The old type of Marxist organiZation had certain be
liefs about itself. It believed that it represented the gen
eral interests of the proletariat to the degree that these
general interests are oPPosed to the particular interests
of special categories of workers. It believed that it rep- .
resented the international point of View as oPPosed to
national particularism. It believed that it represented
the "maximum> ! program and the ultimate, total ob
j ectives of the workers' strUggles to the degree that
these are in OPPOSition to the "minimum" demands of
the day-to-day struggles. All these beliefs led to the
conclusion that the organiZation was the true subject
;
that is to say, the motivating force of history. And
if the organiZation wa' the subject of history, the pro-
94 FACING REALITY
:-:....: .. :.- objet. i. :... -----,:.-. :.- -.,...
:.:.-- ..,..:-.-,..-.: :-.. .. :.- u..--...: x...
-----,:.-- -: :.- -.,...-.:.-- .. .-.-.-.: .- :.- --
-
:.-- -.-. :..: i--.- --,-..--- .. What Is To Be
Done? n-.-,.-..:--:.-:.:-.t.:--:=.:.:.-:-.--
.-+:.-.-.,.--.. ..-. =-.- ------ :- ,.---.: :.-
:..--.-,.-:.-.:-..-..-:r-:.-..--.-: c...-..
..-. ..- -- ..-:-. :.- ,.-.::.--.-:.-.: .:..--. :-.
..-i--.-..+ .--.-...Notebooks -...-,:.- ..
..astate and Revolution, .-.--.-=.t--.-:.--..-t
:.--.-:.-.: -.,.- -: :.- --.-:-..---:.:.-- .-.- ..
-- ---..- =..:---.:-. +.-:., .. 1938, ..,.-, :..
.-.-.:.:.- .--..:.. .. --., :.- ---.-.-.. --,.-...-. -:
:.- -:---:.., .-- .-.:.--:.-- -..-- -: :.-,.-:-:....:
:- .----.:..-: .--.-:,-- c-.-..: :-.--.:.--. .-
.-:.:.-- t-:=--- :.--., ..- .---:.:.--.., -.,.-...:.-.
O1\ --- ..-- ..- :.- .-:.-- ..- -.,.-...:.-. -: :.-
,.-.-:....: -. :.--:.-. -...-: t- . .-:.:.-.t-.=--
the ---.-.-.. ..- :.- ...:.--:.-- +.- n-:..--.- r..:,
-. r--.. .. :.- ,.-.:-.t ,-:.:.-.. ,..:, :.- -:-.-
=-.:- ...|--=- i..:. .-.-.--.,. .: =.. .----:-.:.
t.,:.-,..:, -::.-,.-.-:....:.--:.-.-..-- ,.-.:-.
:-.:.--, :- :... :... :.- :.-: :..: t-:-.- .: --..-
-..:.-- :.- n..... ,.-.-:....: c:.:.... ..a to --
.:.., :.- ,..:, ..-.: :- . .- -..-
,
--.: -..,..--
..--...:,.:. :-.--.. .-=..:- :.- ...:-., -: :.- n--
:.:.-- ..- ..,,.-.. -. .-..:-.,.-: .:. ...:-..-.. +--.
.-: n.: ---. :... ,..:, .. :.- :..: .-.:,... .. .
:,,- -: ,.....--: .:..-,.-.--:.:.--. -: :.- =-.|-..
-.-.--- .-:- --t.:.-, :.-:.--. .--.-....,:, .-----
:.- :.- .-:... ----.:.--. -: .--..: ..- ,..:.-....:,
,.-:-:....-:.:-

:--., .,..:,-.:..:--tin ...

-.---- --.-:., -.- t- --:..-, -:.- t.: ...-.:..--:
-: -,,.-...-- :,...-, ..- :..:..-
w.-...--:.-..---:... .::-.:.-n.-,....-r--
-..:.-. ..-..- --..- ... -..:.-.. -: c:.:.... ...-.
t..-..-..:. .--,..:..--:..,:.t-.:-.--..:-..-t-
:-.,. =.:.:.-.--:.-..:.--:.-.-:..:-,...-.-,-:
:.-... .--.-:,:.-w-.|-..c-.--....----.,t..--.-:
:.-..:.--.: .-:.-.:,
REQUIRED: INFORMATION OF THE NEW SOCIETY
+.- :...: -.:, -: :.--.,.....:.-... :- ,:.-- . :.-
e..,-... -: :.- =-..-, -:... all ,-...t:- -... .:-
...i ..-.-:-:.--:... -:--,.-...-, .:.-.:.:.-=...--.
:.... -::.:- .--.:. -. ...
:.:-...: -.-. --....- t-..,--.. .--.-:, .. or
,...-..:, -.,....-: - .. :- .-..t.: .-,.-.. ..- -.--
Quebec 1 972 General Stri ke: "We the ordi nary people"
\
; \
L
x
O
J
t
o
z
THE MARXIST ORGANIZATION-1903-19,iB 95
necessary, persecute and destroy all attempts by work
en even to express an independently proletarian atti
tude to society. The labor bureaucrats, Stalinilt or dem
ocratic, do this not only as a direct result of the very
stl ucture of society, but because any such independent
expression immediately calls into question their own
lea,dership, and obviously can have no other purpose.
All objectively reactionary tendencies in bourgeois so
ciety reach their ultimate expression in Stalinism,
where they assume their most finished and conscious
form. It i, in Stalinism, tllerefQe, that they can be
-

most fruitfully studied. The shifts and turns of Stalinist

policy can be traced easily enough to the needs of the
Kl'emlin, on whose power Stalinism depends to get into
power ultimately. But the method used is one of de
liberately confusing and corrupting the intelligence and
the will of the workers so that in the end they learn to
le&ve everything to the Party and its slogans.
However powerful the independent efforts at self
realiZation in individual factories or units of production,
they remain isolated from factory to factory, from na
tion to nation. Any attempt to form organizations or
even to acquire independent material means of expres
Slon is at once set upon by political representatives of
the various bureaucracies within the working class it
self, incorporated or suppressed by the power of the
machine, and very often of official society itseU, Work
ers are at their very best in collective action in the cir
cumstances of their daily activity or crises arising from
it, The individual talent for gathering, coordinating,
and publishing information on independent activities
of national and international scope is inhibited and
stifled objectively and subj ectively by every organized
social force in official society. Only in a Marxist organ
ization can such workers find the possibility of devel
oping thei talents without fear of being prostituted to
bm'eaucratic ends. Only the Marxist organization can
ha ve the means, the forces, and the independence to
keep the workers aware of what is taking place in
their world-wide, u n i v e I s a | , but uncoordinated
( except at critical moments) efforts to create the new
society. Finally, only the Marxist organization recog
nizes this daily activity as socialism.
REQUIRED: IFORMATION OF OFFICIAL SOCIETY
The Marxist organization has another task, that of
providing information about official society. Official
society falsifies all information intended for the great
96 FACING REALITY
mass of the people, first because it is in its very nature
to do so. Any elite must of necessity consciously falsify
the information it gives to the mass. But the falsity of
tI! information handed out by both the public and
private bodies of official society i's false for a deeper
reason. Official society does not know and has no means
of knowing or even of understanding the actual facts
of its own existence. A French Prime Minister asserts
that the cost of the war in Algeria is 1, 000 million francs
a year. A ex-Prime Minister contradicts him flatly and
dEclares that the cost is 2, 000 million francs a year. The _
-
boasted forum of democracy, question time in the House
of Commons, sees the Opposition inquiring from the
Prime Minister whether planes loaded with hydrogen
bombs are flying over Britain and the Prime Minister
U!lable to give a straight answer on this matter which
literally involves the life or death of millions of people.
1l is only since de-Stalinization that people have come
to know what was always obvious to any student of
Stalin's writings and speeches-his incredible, his stu
pendous ignorance of the most elementary economic
matters at home, and politics and war abroad. The
Press Conferences of the President of the United States
have become not only an embarras'ment but a burden
to American reporters who have to make not only sense,
but even sentences of his ramblings and stutterings.
If tomorrow it was discovered that the President
had died long ago and someone resembling him had
been substituted to win power for the party, D O s t
Americans would shrug their shoulders, so great is the
cynicism and distrust of all official pronouncements
among the people. It cannot ehange as long as society is
organized as it is.
The first necessity of democracy is accurate infor
mation. In fact, it is not too much to say that in pres
ent-day society the main ta'k of any government is to
collect information and so organize it and present it to
the people that they are able to make their decisions
and their choices. Without this, all talk of democracy
is a farce. As it is, the governments of official society do
not know the economic facts of society because the most
important of these facts, the attitudes, capacitie', wil
lingness, or otherwise, of worker', is deliberately con-
.
cealed from them and they have no way of penetrat
ing the wall of defense which workers build around
themselves. The Government of Sir Anthony Eden did
not know its own military capabilities. After nearly 75
JIT MARXIST ORGANIZATION-1903-1958
97
years of British occupation of Egypt, it did not know
what the response of the people of Egypt would be to
a British invasion. Khrushchev did not know what was
brewing in Hungary and Poland until it was too late.
The American Government has consistently misunder
stood and misjudged the scientific attainments of Rus
sia. The catalogue is endless. The Governments cannot
inform the people even if they wanted to, because they
d? not themselves know.
Colossal as is this task of informing the workers,
. the Marxist organization must .
undertake it because
nobody else can. Despite the poverty of its resources at
the start, it has the immense advanta.ge of having the
great knowledge and experience of the proletariat at
its disposal, and particularly on fundamental economic
and social matters this is the most authentic source
of information in any country. By diligent attention
and study it can learn to sift out the truth from the
OO by which official society seeks to deafen the people
and twist them to its own ends.
THE INDEPENDENCE OF THE ORGANIZATION
The Marxist organization, however, is no mere re
porter of facts about the socialist activity of the prole
tariat, or detector and publicist of the systematic fal
sifications of official society.
It has and must of necessity have an independent
VIew of its own. First of all, there are no facts in the
abstract. All facts, and the selection of facts, must nec
essarily be governed by a view of society. The ine'
timable strength of the Marxist organization today is
that in every situation, in every crisis, national or in
ternational, it sees not only the decadence and disorder
of official society but also, intertwined, the elements
of the s ocialist solution. This knowledge i' the origin
of its very existence as an organization and it can be
effective and grow only by using it. The struggle to
reach this understanding and insight, the complete ac
ceptance of socialist power and socialist ideas as ori
gll1atin and flowering primarily in the working class
itself, the immense energy, determination, and training
which will be needed to maintain this assault against
one of the most powerful strongholds of official society,
this can only be fully achieved by resolutely putting
forward the point of view of the organization whenever
the occasion requires it, in large matters or i small.
L?ter in this document we shall go into elaborate de
tail, based on experience, of the possibilities, difficul-
98 FACING REALITY
..-. ..--..,-.. -: ..-: . --...- .. ,-.-:.-.r :-..
But ::-..--,-.--.:-.-. -:::- :..-..: ..,...-.:.-..
......:.., -: . :..-. -: -..-.. ..- ..:-rr--:..r. ..-
8D ..:-,..r ,..:-: ::- .- .--.-:, :.. .--.-:, :..,
.- .rr .r.,. :.-- -..,.., r---r. -: --,.-:-...-..
,-..,--:.-- ..- ,-r.-, +:.. ---. .-: -.. :.: .:
-..- -....::- :.+.. --..,--.. -. s:.r....:.---
..,, ::.: ::- -.,.....:.-.:..-. ::- r-.----.::- r-..
..:-..- r-.. ---.r ... i: -... ::- -,,-..:- ::.:
:. -.,.....:.-. ..-. ..-. .:. ..--,-.--.: -.-.
alld .,::.:.-::-.. .--.:..-.:..:-:t.---..:
. ..:-.-:..,- ..- --.:.-.:..-. -: -,...-. :.-: is
:.- --., r.:--r----: .--..r..: .--.-:,
THE CONTINUITY OF MARXIST THEORY
::- :..-..: -.,.....:.-. :.. ::- .-.,-...-.r.:, :-.
,.-..-.., ..- --:-.-.., ::- ::--., -: :..-... r:-
,-.-...:.-.-:::-::--.,-::..-.....-:..-.---.
:.. ---.,..-r,. .:.-,-:t--....-:--:.r--.,:-
..-, :-...- -:::-,.-r-:....:.r.....:-..-: -.r,::-
r. ..--.:::- ,..: +:..-.r,::- -r-.-.: --.:.-: .::
:.- --.:-,-..., --,-..-.--. -: ::-,.-r-:....: ..- -:
.-.-:,...:-r- -..,.--.,.-:-..--..---..:..-..,
.: :.:.. .-:.------::.. ,..-:.--..-::--., ..-
:.. -.-.,-.:..::--.,.:.:..:----..-..---.
It .. :-.- ::.. . :... -: :-.-, .-.,-...-.r.:, ..a
-.-.-.. .--,- -,-..--:-.- ::-:..-..: -.,.....:.-.

x..:::.:..,..-::--.,..::--..r,-.,.-::..-..
... .- ----- ---. ..-r--,- .-., ::- -..:
-...-. -: ,--,r- r:- ..:-...-- a---r-,-.: -: -.,.
:.... ::- .:...:, -: ::- ,.-r-:....: ::- .-..-
.-...--. -: .-.-.-- i ::- r..: ,-.-..:.-. .rr ::..
.-.--. .-- -: ::- -.: -:-...:-- :-..r.- -: :..-
..-i-...:..--:..-c..-:.r..::-,-.-..::-..:-.-
-..:. -: .--..r.. ::-, -.- r..:---, ::- ---.-.-
-.-.-,-.: -:::-.. -., ..-::- --:....:.- --.--,
:.-.. -: ::- :.- s.-: . :-..r. .. :..- .-:- ..
:.-Critique oj the Gotha Program, r..:..,--...,:.-.
: .-..,--.. --r.:.-... ---. ::-.,: ::- .-r.:.-:.
-: ,.--.-:.-. -.- .--..r..-- ... .- .-r--..-- :--.,
:-.- ..::-.--..-----..:..-. ::--..-....- ---.
..--.

-.,.:.r...:..-.., :--.:.-r..:. .--..r..: -,..r

.:,+:---.--,:.-.-::..-..-i-...-:.,-..--:...
..:.-..r :- .--..r.. .. -,..rr, .::-.:-.:.., :--.,
.-::-.--..-----..:..-.

+---.:...-:-:-r-.,::-.-
8S ,..--. :- ::- :.:..- .. .-.-:.-..., ..- -.: ---
.-, :.- ::-.- :- r--. :-. .--..r.. ---.,:-.-
----,:..::--.r, ,r.--:-.-.: -.. -- :-..- ..::-
THE MARXIST ORGANIZATlON--J 903-1958
. 99
-..r, .-:.-.:.-. -: ::- -...., -r... --. ..--. capi
:.r...:.-r:+:-.-...-,-..---::.....:.-.:-.--.....
.::-. ::- -.:.-r..:-.: -: w-..-.. c-..-.r. .. --.,
-....:-:::-..:.-..r .-:..:,..-::-o---..--.-:
w-..-..c-....r. o.-- ::-.- ..- -.:.-r..:-- ::- -.r,
......:.-. -.. -- :- .:- --,-.-..:-- w-..-. s:..
::- ,.-:-..-r- --,-.-..:-- w.-.. s:.:- the lH-
-.....-r, --,-.-..:-- w-..-.. s:.:- ..- .- 0, to
c,r-, ::- --.-.r .-.--.:.-. -, :.-: +.-:.., .-.,.:
:- -..,...- :.. ..,,: -..:.-.r ..

- -..:.-.. -..
...:.-.r -: s:.r.... +:- ,-..-- -: :.....:.-. IO SD~
...r.. .. ::- ,.-.-.: ,-..-d r:.. .. ,..:.-.r..r, ..e

-: ---.-.- .-r.:.-.. trr ::- ,.--r-. ::.: the lC~

.:--... ,..,,:-- .:: .::-.,--.:.- ---. achieved,
..-- ---. ,..-- ..--. .:.:- -.,.:.:.. t-:--- :.-
:.:.., -: ,--.
THE ANACHRONISMS OF MARXISM
+.- :..-..: -.,.....:.-..r-.-.. -.,.-r- -:,-....
. 'id .:

::- ...-:.-... .. :..-.. i: .. .-.-r.:-r

.,-...-r- :- ---.-.:..:- ::- -.-.-.. -.-.,.-. and
-.-.:.-- ,--. ::.: :.-- ---. ,-.-..:-- .. :.- ,--.:
...-. -: ::- -.:-. ,-,.r.:.-. :--., o.r, ::- dead
-.,:: -: -::.-..r .--.-:, :-:-. .: --.. i: .. .- :.-
-a...-.. -: ::- :..-..: -.,...:.:.-. :- ..--.:

:.:
:..-.--..:.rr, -.rr--.-.,-.:-.:.- ---..:-,. of :.-
:.:..- i: .. ..::.-.-.: :- .:-. -..-:.rr, ..: ::-
-..-.. ..- .-:..rr, --.., ..- :.: ::-, ..- ....,
.:. .:-:- -.. ::- --.-r..-.. r...-.r..r,::-:..-
..: -.,.....:.-. ..: --.-...- .:: -.-.r-.. .-.
:-,: ::-.- ::--...:. :- --..- .. .--..-- ,.....
:---..- .....--,-..,--:.--. ..-,..:.-.r... .--.:::-
--.:-.:..-:-..-: ,..:.-..:.:-...-.rr-::-.:.-.
of ..,...:.:.-. i ::- .--..r..: .--.-:,. u-.- -~.-:,
.. ---.:-.--..::...,i:.. ...:.-.-...,..
.:: ::- .:-. .r.-.-, .. :.. -.:: --..--- . --.
:.:.-.:- -: ..-.,.:.-. --:--- .rr-.., . --.:. -.- :.
..--:.
THE INSUPERABLE PROBLEMS,
r:- ..,,-.--r,....,-..-r-,.-t:- -:,r..... :.-
--,r-- r.:- -: .--.. .--.-:, .. .--. .. .:. :..-
-
,-.
.,--:.-- :c. - .-.r..- ::.: ---.: -.r-.r.:.., .
-:..-.. ,.-,-.r, -:..,--. -.. ..,.-r, ,.-- .. ...-.
:-::-

-..-,.-.--.-:--.:...,.----..-...-::....,
,r,. .,r-:.-:-.,.B :-r-i.-..:.,.-..:-r-,-,.
r.:.-..::::-.:-...r -.:.-::-..-.:.---...-..
r:- ..,-.,r...-.. -: :--.,. ...-,.:.., :- ::-.-r--.
-.-.-.. ,--.. -: ---.-.., ..- -.r-.-.., ::- --r.
iOO
F ACING REALITY
tion between production goods and consumption goods,
will become the accounting functionaries of tomorrow,
reduced to the modest role of giving information. The
great conflict between East and West which threatens
humanity with destruction i' a conflict originating in
official society, maintained by official society, and will
end only with the end of official society. The end of
official society in any part of the world will rapidly
bring its end in the other. For each of these is neces
sary to the other and they draw reciprocal sustenance
from their mutual crimes and threats. Witness the
united terror of Moscow, Washington, and Berlin at
the thought of a revolution in Eastern Germany. To
show this and to expose the social and human solutions
to the artificial problems of official society is the task
of the Marxist organization. Let those for whom these
socialist solutions are Utopia continue to cower and
wallow in their realism.
THE REALISM OF SOCIALISM
Yet the Marxist organization in performing the nec
essary task of visualizing the content of socialism su
bordinates itself neither to a statistical conception of
society, nor speculations to reassure the timorous. It
already has the immense experience of the last forty
years on which to draw, the discoveries and achieve
ments of modern science . are available, and above all
it knoW that the future lies with the development of
things becoming subordinate to the development of
man. It is sufficient that all the old handicaps and bar
riers to a truly human existence are gone and only
official society stands in the way. The true analysis
of the future is to show that the most expansive aspi
r&tions of the past are now possible. Such is the already
existing community of labor and the achievements of
science that the fusion of manual and intellectual labor
lias become a necessity, for society as a whole as well as
for the individual personality. The Marxist organization
can demonstrate that the mass of men can progress
only if their creative instincts and inheritance are fully
applied to the practical tasks of every day. Even the
earlier formula of Marx that the future development
U man rested upon the shortening of the working day
no longer applies. The great problem of the leisure of
socialist man which the abstract theoreticians have
now added to their other burdens is a hangover from
an earlier age. The herculean struggle for the shorter
THE MARXIST ORGANIZATION-1903-1958 101
"vorking day, the mathematical division between time
for work and time for self-development is a capitalistic
product pure and simple. When man uses his creative
faculties to the full in his work, that distinction ceases
to be an antagonism and becomes a Simple scheduling
of various forms of social activity. Complete universal
education for all, mastery of all the processes of pro
duction, freedom to carry on poUtical discussions in
the place and during the time of work, readiness to
work hard when it is required and to relax and be social

whenever possible, these are now the concrete, practi

cal needs and demands of workers. What
a
re the
s
e
but the embodiment i life of the formula of the mature
Marx when he wrote that modern industry would col
lapse unless it replaces "the detail-worker of today,
crippled by life-long repetition of one and the same
trivial operation, and thus reduced to the mere frag
ment 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 fuctions
he performs, are but so many modes of giving free
scope to his own natUral and acquired powers. "
The Marxist organization in the middle of the
Twentieth Century, standing on the shoulders of its
predecessors, has this immeasurable advantage over
them, that it has before its eyes, concretely and in the
flesh, the dehumanized gangsterism of official societv
and the men a,nd manners to replace it.
"
MARXISM AND CULTURE
The organization has the task of bringing to the
proletariat those elements of traditional and contem
]CI'8I] culture which are needed for that full and total
e:.pansion of human living which is now realistically
possible and needs only the socialist society to come
into being. In every department of hUman life today,
anthropology, medicine, architecture, biology, chemis
try, and education, in all its manifold aspects, discov
eries and understanding of far-reaching importance
Bve been already made. 7 few bold pioneers even
sometimes try to put some of these into practice. In
every case they find and frequently declare (most of
tEn in guarded language) that it is impOSSible for man
kind to make use of the knowledge which is already in
its hands as long as the present structure of society
continues. This information is needed by the proleta
riat above all other classes in society and it can be given
to the proletariat only by the Marxist organization or
]02 FACING REALITY
intellectuals and 1cientists working in close collabora
tion with it. The valuable elements in all fields of con
temporary culture can be preserved and made available
only in the light of a new totality, a new vision of the
world, and of humanized relations throughout the length
and breadth of society. To do this, if only ideologically,
demands an assimilation of this culture in the light
of both the experiences and activities of the proletariat.
All those who do not proceed from this basis end up as
whining or utopian snipers at capitalist culture, even
when they do not actually defend it.
THE PROSTITUTION OF EDUCATION
The utter futility of believing that it is possible to
improve official society except upon the basis of new
relations resting upon the proletariat and the great
masses of the people, the mental paralysis which ine
vitably overtakes all who try to do this, is proved by
the frenzied and unspeakably disgustig activity which
i' now taking place in the West under the lying slogan
of education. The patient work of generations of edu
cators, all pointing to the conclusion that the isola
tion of children and youth from the practical aspects
of social life distorts both mind and body, the search
for roads to integrate from the very start intel
lectual and social life, all this is now placed OD the
shelf. Instead. billions of dollars are now to be spent
in a vast indctrination and inj ection of the youth of
Vlestel'n civilization with the scientific virus. has
no relevance whatever to education, but is in reality a
military operation having no other purpose than to
c[,tch up and overtake the enemy i the production of
weapons of destruction, for which very purpose the
Russians instituted their program. Thus these two
enemies grow more like each other every day. Only the
Marxist organization basing itself on the proletariat
can attempt a synthesis and transcend the essentially
bourgeois antagonism between humanism and techno
logy.
OUR UNSHAKABLE FOUNDATIONS
If the development of society has posed before us
the crisis of contemporary society as essentially prob
l ems of human relations, if the Marxist organization
itself will remove from living Marxism what is now
dead, the organization never forgets its own essential
fcundations. We shall conclude, therefore, with a brief
statement of the main lines of Marxism, whose essen
tial truth is not weakened but confirmed every day.
THE MARXIST ORGANIZATION-1903-1958 103
Capital, contrary to previous societies, can live ony
by accumulation. Marx discerned i capital accumu
lBtjon two laws, twin sides of the same movement, the
law of concentration and centralization of capital and
the law of the socialization of labor. There is no one
( except a well-educated Marxist) who cannot today see
these laws in full operation. From commercial capital,
the capital of trade, capital concentrated into units of
individual industrial capital which created the world
market. These developed into vast combines and cartels
until today the national capital of any country is in
one form or another state capital. But the process of
concentration still continues. The national state capitals
reach out towards the formation of continental units.
The present conflict is essentially a conflict between
the two most gigantic concentrations of capital in the
,,,orld today, the United states and Russia, for the com
plete domination of all world capital. To achieve
this they force into their orbit by force, fraud, or ca
j olement, all national units. Lenin found the exact
phrase for them in 1918 when he f orecast the coming
of "vast state capitalist trusts and syndicates" contend
ing for world mastery. His old definition of imperial
ism as surplus capital seeking higher profits in colonial
countries is now dead, and is used only by Stalinists
seeking to exclude imperialist Russia from their denun
ciations of imperialism. Today it is not mere profits of
investment that are at stake. The territory and the
manpower, the very traditions as well as the material
p,'oduction of the various countries of the world, ad
vanced as well as backward, are needed. What is taking
place, therefore, is that capital, which always had men
in its grip, has been accumulated to such an extent,
intensively and extensively, that it now operates by
complete mastery of men. The vast state capitalist
trusts and syndicates hurl themselves against each
other to be shattered, only to reorganize themselves
in unstable combinations, vainly seeking that complete
centralization which it is the nature of capital to forever
seek and never achieve. Lenin did not deny the theOl'e
tical possibility of world capital being totally centralized
but, as he said, a great deal would happen before then.
It is happening.
Even judging the system from its own point of view
it is already exhausted. Having drawn the whole world
into its orbit, it is incapable of supplying the undevel
oped countries with the capital needed to develop them.
!O F ACING REALITY
Thus, as with so many other great issues long debated
in Marxism, the theoretical problem of whether capi
talism would collapse from lack of markets or lack of
productive power is solved in life for all to see.
But side by side with the chaotic movement to con
centration goes the socialization of the labo
r
force.
There is no need to elaborate this. In Marx's words, the
labor force is constantly growing in numbers, is united,
disciplined, and organized by the very mechanism of
capitalist production itself. Sooner or later it would
have to rid mankind of the increasing misery imposed
upon it by capital. In social terms this means displac
ing the human beings who refuse to abandon their
privileged positions as agents and directors of capital.
Human personality, social and political institution, in
ternational diplomacy, human grandeur and h u m a n
weakness, all, in their infinite and from one point of
view ungraspable and unpredictable variety, are to be
seen within the context of this view of modern devel
opment. The alternative is the doctrine of Hebrew
nomads on original sin, with the hope of redemption
by summit talks.
Today there are no longer any mysteries in the con
ditions of social existence nor in that science of human
affairs whose right name is political economy. In his
famous chapter of Capital, the last but one of the first
volume, Marx stated, so that a child could understand,
that the new society would grow and flourish ( one
would flourish) inside the old. The crisis now is b
t'een two societies. All the pontifications, calculations,
projects, discoveries, alternative courses of action of
economists about the rise of prices, inflation, balance
of payments, productivity of labor, are just so much
mystification and nonsense, necessary only to preserve
the illusion that the rulers are in control and directing
affairs. While these solemn Druids and medicine men
sing their various litanies about the great problem of in
flation and deflation in England, it is perfectly obvious
that in a highly-organized country, with a disciplined
community, like Britain, the curse of inflation is not
an economic problem at all but a political one
.
Any
government which had and deserved the complete con
fidence of the people as a whole would have little diffi
culty in bringing the inflation to an end. Official so
ciety cannot produce such a government. It has been
calculated that if the British workers were freed in the
factodes, mines, and offices to organize production in
THE MARXIST ORGANIZATION-1903-1958
105
the way hat they and only they know, productivity
cculd be mcreased by fifty per cent. Official society
cannot afford uch freedom. This is the true maturity
of human SOCIety, the golden age and the promised
land, that modern men are at last in a position to man
age all their material affairs so that they can now
devote themselVes to the development of themselves as
human
.
beings and not to the development of capital.
Ideas WIll now play their proper part in the lives of men,
Today when aU the bull frogs rival each other in their
loathsome croakings about increasing the standard of
living, we can best sum up the Past and the future -in
the following propositions which formed a landmark in
our struggle towards understanding.
'
( a) All development takes place as a result of
self-movement, not organization or direction by ex
ternal forces.
(
b) Self-movement springs from and is the over
coming of antagonisms within an organism, not the
struggle against external foes.
( c) It is not the world of nature that confronts
man as an alien power to be overcome. It is the
alien power that he has himself created.
( d) Th end towards which mankind is inexorably
developmg by the constant overcoming of internal
antagonisms is not the enjoyment, ownership, OI
use of goods, but self-realization, creativity based
upon the incorporation into the individual person
ality of the whole previous development of human
ity. Freedom is creative universality, not utility,
This is the philosophy of the Marxist organization
the dialectical method, B methodological guide but n
more, The organization will not seek to propagate it
Tor to convince men of it but to use it so a the more
quickly and clearly to recognize how it is concretely ex
pressed in the lives and struggles of the people.
VII. WHAT TV DO AND HOW TO DO I
i:...,.---::.:::-.--..r..:.--.-:,--..:..r-.=-
:.-- :- .e--.- ::- :.-:. -: .:. --..:-.--.
w- t-,.. .: ::.. .,,..-.:r, -.: ,-..:.-- r---t.
r-,-..-.--:..:..,::.::.-..-:=-.|-..::.:::--.:
--r-...r:..| ::.: :.--. ::-.. :-:.|-.-:.-.-.::-
, -t :-. r--.r ,..-...--.. +:- .----.:.- ., ~
,...:.. -: -::.-..r .--.-:, ::- -::.-..r .:.:- r.t-.,.-
:.-. ..-r.t-....-..:..-:.-...:-.:.-.rr,:- ..:.t.:
,..--.: ..- ..,,--.. ,..: ::.. w- :-- :.-- r-...--
::.: ::- ..- .,,..-.:r, .rr-t..-.., .,,...:.. .-:
-.r,..----t.:..::-.,::-.-.:-.-t.:.-r-...----.,
.---.- -:::- -., .---. --..-.:- .::.-| :- ..:.r:-.:-.
:- ---..r..- :- --...,: :- ..-.-.r- :- --.:.-, ..,
.::-,::- ,.-.-.:.,.:-.:.-.rr, ::- --.--,:.-.-: :.-
.-= --.-:, .. =- :.-- -.:r.--- .: +:- -.r, --...-
::-.-:-.- .. :- ,.-.-.: =:.: =- :.-- r-...-- .. .-.
-.-:- :-.. .,,.-.-:.., .: :.- ---., ..,r- ...r..,
-.=. ::- ..-.-.-..r --.-.-:- :.-: t, r--|.., .. .: ..
:-.. -: ::- u..--...r :.rr.., t.-| -.:--., :- ..
----.::-.--::-..--,--:--..,..:.-..-- -:=:.:.,
.,,-.. :- t- -....r..-.--.:. -- -,..---. ,-..:.., -.:
::- ..t-r.--.tr- ....-.-...-..=.:: =:.-: ::- t.--..
--.:.- -.-..-.-.: .. .::-.. r..,- .. =-rr .. ..rr.
-t:..--. ..-..--.:..:.-r:..:-::-..-. ---. -: ::-.-
=:-.-...,.-,-.-.. r.:- ..:---,--: .:arr::.. .--
=:.:---..,.,,-..:-t-.-r.:--=-.:.rr.-=:.,:-
-- w-:.--t-:..-...-:-.r, ---.--.-:.-,.:.----
,-..-.-- w--..-..= -. .-- ,-..:.-- ..- --:-.---
.::-,:. .. -...-.. --..:..-. :- =-.| -.: ::- .-= .:
-...-.. r---r. -: ::-.,:: ..- .-:.-. r-,--.-.--. i
-...-.. --..:..-. =-.- .--.. ---. =.:: --..:..:
-.-:..,- -::...r ..- -..-.+:- ..:...:- -...-:, -:-.
:.-..r ,--.r....:.-. :-r,-- :- -.-:..,...: ::- ..-.--.:.t
:.-::-:..-.-.:.rw-:.--:.-..---..-...-:.--
.:.-.-- -..-:.rr, ::-.. .,r.-.:.-... a. =.::.rr --,.-
:..-. :.- -.:.tr..:--,..-:.--::----.:--=.--..-
.--..:.-:..:t- --,r-..:.-.. ..:- ..|.-=. :--..
:--,n.:=-:.--r..-. :-..-.:.-...-.:..t:..::.t
we .-=:-,:---...-.:-
r-:..t-,..=.:: =:.: .. .,,.--.:r, . -....i -t-
-.:.-, ..----:-
0b
WHAT TO DO AND HOW TO DO IT I0T
i. -.- --,..:-.: -:. --.:... ,r..: ..::-u..:--
s:.:-., ::-.-1s . =-.|-.=:-..,:,..-.rr,..-.,.tr- -:
-..-,..,-.::..-.:.-.n.::-.....=.::.=.:-..-
-..r-.-...-:.. --.-.:.-...-.-:- ::-,.--.-...:....
-: :.. =-.| ..::- ,r..: +:- =-.|-.. .. ::.: --,..:
..::.-- -.,....--::-..=-.|.- ::.: :-- .-..r,:-.
,-... :-:.. :.- ,..-:.-.rr,.-::.., :- -- +:-, :.--
--:.--.rr-::-.:.-:::-:-.-....-..,-.-...-.:--..
-:..,- :. ::.-.:-..., :-::.-= ::- =:-r- ,r..: ..:-
-..-.--- .: .., .:-,. ..- :.|-. :- -.... ::- ..-.r.-
+:. .. ::- .--..r..: .--.-:, c..-:.r -..-.-.:.-. =.ri
.:- .:.:...: -.---..,.-tr-...=-.|:-. :- -r-
::-:..:.-.,,--::-,-..,-:t-::.---.-..t- -..:,
..- --,-:-.:r, :..-r-- =.::-.: .., t..-..-..:.- .,
,.-.:.. :.:---.t,::- ,---.--.- -:=-.|-...-r-.,
5 :-, :.-- ::- ,-=-. :- .....,- ::-.. r.t-. .. ::-,
=..:v-.|-..:-rr..-:-,..---.t,::---.-.

u-t-.-
,--...-.:..--...-.,-....r----,...:...,.
1l ..-::-. ,r..: ..::- u..:-- c:.:- ::- --,..,
:..-- t, . ..-.--. :- ,.---.: . u-,.- -..--. t-..,
,..-. ::- ,-t -: -..,.:-:-. :- =:.-: :.. .-..-..:, -.
:.:r-- bi. +:- u-,.- =-.|-.. .. ::- ,r..: -.rr-- a
--:.., ..- ,.-- ::- --,.., . --.:... --.-r..- :-
.,,..-- ::.. =-.|-. :- ::- ,-t=:.-:=..:..t,..,::

n-r-.- :.-.. ...:-- --:-....:.-. ::- --,.., -.,.:.

..:-- +... ::-.- =-.|-.. :.- .:..-| . tr-= .,....:
---. ..,..:.-- ..-..r -..-.....:.-. ..- ::- -..--
--. .. ,.--.-:.-. =:.-: ...,--.: -.-.:-. +:.: ..
::- .-...r..: .--.-:, i: :...: :- t- -.,....-- .. ::-
:.:..- i: --..:. i: .. -.,....-- i: :.. :- ,-: ..- -:
=:.:...:.:r..,.:=:.:..,.---.:..,.::.---,..-..,
:.::-:.r=:.:..,.---.:a,.::.-:.-|r..,.-:-.r,
::- .--..:-,.-tr--:,.--.-:.-.t.:.r.-::--.-
,-.-... ,.-tr-. -: .--.-:, n.: .: --..:.
:. . n..:..: ...,-.:::-.--...:,-::.--....r.:- ::-..
..,-..--. .. .---.-..-- =.:: ::- .-..r.:.., -..-.
,r..- ::.: ,---..r. .. ::.. :,,- -: ,.tr.- .-.-..- o.-
-: ::-.- .-,--.-.:.:.--.. -.,-..,:- -..-... ...-..:
:-.. =.:: ...,--.:. --:..--:- ..r.:- -r....,::.:
.. ::.. .-r.:.-. :- ..- ::- --,.-.-.:.:.-- -: ...,-
-.:-: ..-,..r.+:---,.-.-.:.:.---:...,--.:
-..:- -t-.-..r, . .. -: .-.:-.-.r -.:.r.:, --
-..--- ::- ..,:: :- t- ..r.:-- +:- =:.r- .--:.-.-:
=-.|--. =-.: -.: -. .:..|- .--..:-r, ..- .. ::-
-.- ...,--.: -.,.:.r.:--.+:.: .. ::- .--..r..: .-
-.-:,
w-.|-..--:--:- ::-.-.:..,,r-. ...::-,:.:- --.
IB FACING REALITY
rect "local grievances" and to "improve working condi
tions." Yet to the terror of management and the per
petual astonishment of people who are no familiar wth
the working class, workers are ready to brmg productlOn
to a stop and endure the greatest privations for weeks
and months over what seems to the ordinary observer
to be trifles. To workers it is precisely the power to
carry all these ideas and wishes of theirs to complete
ness wl1ich constitutes the new society.
SOCIALIST DISCIPLINE
The new society exercises its own discipline. Wol}
ers are not homogeneous and often some worker refuses
to go out on strike with his fellows or to play his part
in one of the innumerable daily clashes with manage
ment. The maj ority of workers are quite aware that,
though these dissidents take a great stand on their in
dividual rights, none of them has ever been known to
l'efuse the benefits of money and conditions which the
actions of his fellows may win. In the United states the
workers will mercilessly badger this type of worker all
day. They will report his activities to colleagues of other
departments. They will construct and even write lam
poons which are circulated all over the plant. In Britain
the method of correction is the opposite. The British
workers send the dissident to Coventry-they wil not
speak to him at all. In each case the workers are sub
stituting their own discipline, the discipline of socialist
relations of production, for the capitalistic discipline of
dismissal.
The same type of discipline is applied to workers
\\ho do not do what their felloW workers consider to be
a fair share of the work. All industrial psychologists
know that under conditions of capitalist production
workers have two standards of production. One they
apply to the demands of management. At any particu
lar time this consists of a quantity of work governed by
the amount of money they want to make and the energy
they wish to expend, on the one hand, and keeping
management in its place on the other. But there is
another standard, a standard of their own, what under
the particular conditions they want to do, what they
consider necessary to their self-respect and security,
and they do not lightly tolerate any persistent and ir
responsible departure from this. This determination to
control their own labor by common agreement and to
discipline those who depart from the cooperation tl1at
modern production demands, what is it but socialim?
WHAT TO DO AND HOW TO DO IT
109
True, it is frustrated at every turn by the existing
capital-Iabor relation, but it is nothing that has to be
created in the future by the Party or the Plan. It exists
and fights, not only to exist but to expand its sphere of
action.
OVERTIME
To the observer outside the plant the question of
overtime is far removed from socialism. Yet it is around
overtime that can be seen as clearly as anywhere else,
the socialist and all other attitudes to social labor,
posed in
,
opposition to each other.
,
Management,
whether democratic or totalitarian, considers tlt it is
its prerogative to decide when and where and by whom
overtime is to be worked, irrespective of the wishes or
needs of workers. There is a small minority consisting
of Trotskyists, anarchists, radicals, and ex-radicals, who
have what they consider to be the r,evolutionary atti
tude towards overtime. They claim that any overtime
work is a departure from the great principle of the 8-
hour day and is therefore a crime. These are the ones
who, we may be sure, under what they call socialism,
would be ready , to impose the most brutal conditions
of overtime. According to them, once the property is
ns,tionalized, overtime is in the interest of society as a
whole (these radicals having been substituted for the
capitalists as the managers and policemen of produc
tion) . At the other extreme is another minority, usually
consisting of skilled workers and lead men who are
eager for all the overtime they can get.
The great majority of the workers have nothing' in
common with any of these. They carry on what at first
glance is an utterly bewildering series of struggles,
sometimes for, sometimes against overtime. What the
a' erage group of workers wants in regard to overtime
is that they 'hould control the amount of overtime, how
and when it should take place and who should do it.
Thus, at times the struggle is against overtime, at oth
ers it is for the right to work overtime, in what appears
to be a chaotic capriciousness. But one principle under
lies all these struggles. It is the fundamental principle
that workers themselves are to control overtime and
therefore keep their grip on the length of the working
day. Control by workers over the amount of extra work
that should be done, when it is to be done, how it js
to be done, who will do it, just simply this constitutes
socialist relations of production, and many millions of
workers all over the world are engaged in a constant
struggle to establish this. Sometimes they succeed, if
JlO
FACING REALITY
only partially, or for a certain
,
length o time. That
precisely is socialism and there IS no other kind of so-
cilism.
H SCHEDULES OF PRODUCTION
In most modern plants workers want to c

ntrol wo
. hired and when and to control who wIll be dIS
al
,
e
. and when ad under what circumstances. But
m!sseQ
,
f h t york the plant
this really involve: knowledge D w a V
,
,
t do While the unions and general publlc a

e
pI oposes D
t ' orker I11
pri mal'iiy concerned with wages, wha evel Y w
t . 1
. 1 t wants-
to KOOV lI advance and to. [U| \ O
evel ] | an
t tl ' nao'ement
are the schedules of production. Bu 1.1S ma "
\ adamant in keeping from them.
Walter Reutller once threw out the slogan "_e
|!0 Books " This did not mean to tIle workers la
"
hould make their profits known. These
|_[ compam
es s
, . nt and
rafits have to be registered wIth the
,
govelnme
.. be inpected at a moment's notlC

. To open the
k
t to the workers : Tell us m advance the
boo s mean
"
to carry
schedules of production WhICh
,
you PlOPe
chedules
When workers say they WIsh to see B s
.roduction, they mean they wish to say what the
think about them. So fierce was the response to tl
both management and workers, from thel
SlOgal

of
.
' th t Reuther rapidly with-
OPPOSIte pomts of VIew, a
drew it.
modern industry ten or twenty thousand
.
men

In
1 ave to carry out the enormously complIcated
\V

JO J
f modern production are excluded from any

e
.e.sive and precise knowledge of
:
hat th

y
,
p
t d Not in the interests of productIOn, but I
l1!ve D U.
' t' management has to treat
defense of Its own POSI lOn,
,
tl:lem like children. This the workers reJ ect as me
T
he intoler
,
abe exclu

iOl

fro
_
l
_
r

ri
,,ver
closely, pe1'lOdlCally . s ou
nies per hour. Two forces
differences of two
,
or t l ee pe
e of production based on
l' ere are in confllct : one mo ,
t
tle capital-labor relation, the re:ation of
r
llll
o
er__
,
and privates ; and the othe

, m _
n
w
consciously
"production by fre

IY assaclated
th
'
sttled plan."
l t d b them m accor dance WI
l'egu a e y
,
. . at ideas or theoretical con-
These
,
opposmg for ces ar e n
exist. The clash between
structlOns or hypotheses.
,
They
b ne and stretching
.
tantly shakmg every D
tbem IS cons .
t There are two so-
e
y
el
?
n
:
rve i
l.c
o
.
t

y
i
O

l
e
c.italist society. T?e
cletles
,
m con
l
'
all
'
:t
'
society It is the refusal to recogrze
other IS a soc
.
WHAT TO DO AND HOW TO DO J 111
this which accounts for the mountains of nonsense
which are daily produced on the subj ect of automation.
AUTOMATION
While official society and the labor bureaucracies
are excelling themselves in creating dust, noise, confu
sion, and fear over automation, the socialist society has
already put forward its own most comprehensive plans
for . dealing with automation.
Workers of Standards in Coventry, England, have
said the fundamental words about automation.
a) If management wishes to introdlce autohiatiol1
into any plant, it must consult the workers in the
plant at the very first inception of the idea. Work
ers are not opposed to automation. Far from that.
They welcome it. But they insist that it is their
business more than anybody else'l.
b) When automation is introduced, there is no ne
cessity to dismiss anyone.
It is here that not merely two methods of produc
tion but two conceptions of society as a whole are in
conflict. Workers are not units of production, They are
men with homes which, sometimes, they have bought or
are in the process of buying. They have families and
children who are going to school, with the friends and
associations that distinguih the lives of human beings
from animals in the forest. They refuse to concede to
management the right to break up their lives according
to the supposed needs of production. The Coventry work
erR claimed that they could reorganize the work so that
no one needed to be dismissed. They went further and
announced a principle that made several newspaper
editors declare that the end of the world had come.
They stated that there were times when they ha to
work very hard and times when they could take it easy
because there was no need to work so hard.
Amid the chorus of denunciations and yells at the
unreasonableness, the isanity of these workers, no one
took care to note that the necessity to work hard at
times was not denied. It was specifically admitted. But
it was based on the principle that the workers would
tl1emselves decide.
This was the workers' answer t the great problem
of automation. We take the liberty of making only one
addition that was inherent in the whole: it would be
necessary at times to send workers away from one plant
to another. But who should go, and when, and under
Il
TACIIG I\Y
what conditions, these things nobody could know and
arrange satisfactorily except the workers themselves.
Most of this appeared i n the press in garbled form.
But it was among the Standard workers them'elves, in
their private conversations, that what they proposed
and, still more, what they thought, could be heard at
S simplest and mos,t direct. This is the socialist soci
ety, as complete an overturn of capitalist production
as the most daring theoretical mind could conceive. But
wild as this program seemed to official society and
labor bureaucracies and parliamentarians, it would win
the immediate support of the vast majority of worker
in every countrY in the world
.
This is socialism, not in
the heads of intellectuals and advanced workers, not
in the future, not to be achieved after sacrifice of a
generation of human beings, but here all aronnd us,
based on generations of experience and burning with
the desire to establish itself.
What happened is characteristic. Faced with what
amounted to the destruction of their society, union
leaders, newspaper editors, bishops, and parliamenta
rians rushed in and ol"ganiz'ed a compromise. The work
ers were promised two or three weeks' severance pay B8
compensation. The Coventry workers had to retreat.
But they have added another story to the socialist struc
ture that they are building, in practice and in theoY.
Two weeks' pa.y. That i' the capitalist answer to auto
mation. Nearly two hundred years after the soci al ca
tastrophes and cruelties of the early industrial revolu
tion, capitalism registers its progress-two weeks' pay,
R week for each century.
Automation has already brought an unbelievable
disorder into the social life of millions of A m e I i c a n
,vorkers. Unemployment pay does not satisfy. Workers
want some order in their lives. Automation shows that
capitalism today, as two hundred years ago, is incapable
<1 order. But today workers not only know that they
can handle these pmblems, but that nobody else can.
These were not the problems posed in the days of Lenin.
The Marxist organization must begin from here.
FiST FUNDAMNTAL TASK
Here we pause for a moment to look again at our
first simple statement: To recognize the socialist society
and t record the facts of its existence. Workers do
not record. The great Shop stewards Movement, the
most powerfu social force in Great Britain today.
keeps practically no records. You will search the mi-
WHAT TO DO AND HOW TO DO IT II3
lions of volumes in the great libraries of Britain and
you will find no single volume which attempts to make
any srious examination of what this movement is
what it does, and how it does it. Yet it is certain that
sueh records exist, in the secret files of industrialists
who have to deal with this movement and understand
it as far as they are able. As far as they are able. For
it is impossible for them, and their bureaucratic col
leagues, to understand that the day-to-day struggles
of the workers constitute the socialist society and the ba-
sic struggle for socialism. The proposals of the workersin
Standards of how to deal with automation did not come
from study or theory or boards of inquiry or parlia
mentary committees or Royal or Presidential Commis
sion'. To those who ma.de the proposals they were the
natural, normal, in fact unavoidable conclusions, flow
ing naturally from their daily lives. Management and
la,bor bureaucrats cannot understand this because it' ul
tim?te conclusion, and one that is not in any way re
mote, is the elimination of these parasites as an inte
gral necessity in modern life. It is to be noted that the
vast maj ority of workers, contrary to theoret,ical socia
lists, have little concern with the wages or social privi
leges of management, supervisors and such. They are
interested in the free interchange of tasks in the plant,
the levelling, or rather equalization of wages through
which their essentially cooperative labor can be per
formed without undue friction. They are not interested
in the perquisites of management. Their main concern
with management i' that it should confine its function
to doing what they, the workers, want done.
No one should underestimate the will and the energy
that will be needed to say, not once but again and again
with the Coventry workers, that a body of workers in 3
plant constitutes the only social organization capable
of dealing with automation in a l'easonable social and
human way. To record it, to publicize it in every con
ceivable shape and form, to place, it before workers who
have not heard of it, to encourage it, this is the concrete
task. Workers are ready to listen. Even 'hen they ap
pear skeptical, perseverance will often show that they
have long thought of this but are acutely aware of the
difficulties in the way and push these forward because
they wish them to be examined and discussed. It is in
these confrontations that Marxism and Marxists ac
qUl'e life and movement, and get closer to social reality.
I J4
FACING BEALITY
THE MIDDLE CLASSES
A new society invading the old never establishes itself
in production alone or in one class, in this case the
v,;orking class. The pattern of production permeates the
whole society. The middle classes, the worker with the
black coat, the white coUar, or the frilly blouse, shaped
by their own conditions of production, have shown them
selves all over the world increasingly ready to follow
the example of the workers, tl1U' proving how deeply
ingrained in the new society is the activity that the
workers carry on. The most striking example. of course, -
is in the Hungarian Revolution. At the same time that
the Hungarian workers in the plant were forming their
Workers Councils. the employees formed their own
councils in every branch of the national activity, in all
government offices, in the Department of Foreign Af
fairs, in banks, in the information services 0f pres' and
radio, everywhere.
Social upheavals bring out what already exists in
society, even though only in embryonic f0'rm, or as as
piration. But they exist. It is the task of the Marxist
organization to find them.
In Paris at the Genel'al Life Insurance Company,
an Employees Council was formed two years ago H con
scious opposition to both management and the trade
unions. We print here complete the program and policy
that it has worked out to guide it, and which it pub
lished and distributed before other insurance compan
CS. It is the socialist society in action.
The maj ority of the employees of the General In
surance Co., 87 rue de Richelieu, Paris, are no long
er willing to entrust the defene of their interests
to the trade unions of any kind.
It was as a result of the strike of November 1955 that
we decided to defend our interests ourselves.
WHAT HAVE WE DONE?
1. We publish every month a newspaper of the firm.
The Employees Bulletin, whose columns are open
to all of us who have not been able to express what
we thought in the trade union papers. Before being
published, each article is discussed among us so
tha,t it can best represent the opinion of all.
2. We are organized, our Council has a legal status
but WE ARE NOT A TRADE UNION W H E R E
EVERYTHING IS DECIDED FROM THE TOP:
-Every employee of the firm is a member by
WHAT TO DO AND HOW TO DO IT
II
right of the Employees Council whether or not he
pays dues.
-No question can be resolved without the agree
ment of the interested worker or workers in an
office or of all employees, according to whether it
concern's a single employee, an office or all tbe em
ployees.
-All meetings are public and: all employees ex
press themselves freely.
-We all work together, the Council has no func
tionaries, the meetings take plac Q1tsice Qf wok
jng h0urs.
3. Every person in a responsible position is design
ated on the basis of the confidence of the employee'
and is revocable at any time.
-The General Assembly of the Council, compris
ing all the employees, decides impo,:tant questions,
-The Executive Committee, consisting of 38 del
egates from the different offices, each representing
a group of employees dOing the same work, decides
practical questions.
4. I order to obtain recognition by the firm, the
Employee' Council must elect employees' delegates,
But the unions are well protected by the law;
they are the only ones allowed to present the list.
It is only if their lists do not receive % of the bal
lots that the elections are voided and on the second
round all candidates can present themselves.
Today the unions have launched: the worst allega
tions against the Council : Poujadists, splitters, fas
cists, stooges of the company, etc. They have to
break up this spontaneous regroupment of employees
or it will prove that it is possible to do without the
unions because the employees are capable of organ
izing themselves so that the bureaucratic and poli
tical apparatus of the unions is useless.
WHY HAVE WE DONE WHAT WE HAVE,
THIS IS WHAT THE EMPLOYEES COUNCIL OF
THE GENERAL LIFE INSURANCE COMPANY
THKS:
The Employees:
Every employee of a firm participates in a collec
tive task. Each has hs duties and his equal rights.
But nobody is getting equal pay.
Look at you pay envelopes and consider. The man
a,gement and the union have signed agreements.
IT0

FACING REALITY
-which differentiate the pay according t the
claBsification of employment ( 110 categories in the
classification of July 1954) .
-which constantly increase the differentiation
and the differences in pay ( agreement of July 1954.
April and November 1955) .
,
Inside the firm the union
.
delgates often
,
Pl'CtI,
policy of favoritism WhiCh mCI'eases
,
thIS dlffer
ntiation. The result is that in every fIrm the em-
. ployees are divided . ..
The management and the unions are the divisive
elements.
The Seniors:
This division due to the hierachy
.
in pay is even
more marked in relation to the Semors.
Either they do the same work as
.
t?e other employees.
or their work is simply supervISIOn.
How then is this hierarchy in any way justified?
The Unions :
They negotiate with management salary agreemets
which allow us some crumbs
.
from the
.
increasmg
profits. outside of this one pomt, anagemet as
complete authority; it doe's what It pleases TG re-
gard to our work,
Check for yourselves how the official delegates de-
fend supervision in your firm.
Work:
In the large maj ority of cass
:
what work e do
depends not on our real capacItIes but on the oood-
will of management.
The work which we have to do tires us l0re and
more as rationalization and mechaniza
.
tion Increase.
Our work is organized by management m such B way
that it does not permit us to apply even 10% of our
real capacities.
. .
.
The F. O. and the C. F. T. C. unions partlciPate m
the commission on productivity.
The C. G. T. union in 1945 called on the mpIOyees
t make every effort to increase productIOn.
.
We don't want our work to become ever mOTe p
.
am
ful and stupid. Unlike management and the umons,
we think we are able to undrstand what our work
consists of and to organize It.
IAJ JC IC AMO ICV JC IC I 117
AMAGENENJ AMI JIE CIAUEU CI CCNNEBCE
They use every means (seniors, unions) to increase
their intake. They live by only one priciple : the
absolute authority of management in the firm.
This authority brings in its wake waste, inju'tice,
inefficiency, fatigue, tension, discouragement.
But if we place in the hands of the unions the task
of counteracting this authority, we find that in
general the unions serve this authority rather than
fight it.
IAJ E CAM 1II IC
I your firms your problems are the same as ours.
You can depend only upon yourselves.
You are not what the union' and management say
you are: incompetents who have to be led.
You are the most numerous, on you the functioning
of the firm depends, you are capable of organizing
yourselves, while allowing to each the possibility of
controlling and administering the organization com
mon to all : You are those for whom solidarity is
not an empty word.
HELP TS
In every firm you can form an Employees Coun
cil which will uify against management all the
employees now divided and dominated by the unions.
If this is not immediately possible, form a group
to publish a bulletin of your firm to prepare the
way for forming a Gouncil.
Whatever the possibilities are, make contact with
us. We will tell you our experience and give you ma
terial aid.
Oui Employees Council will survive only if other
Councils are formed in other companies. Our Coun
cils could not have been created if we had not rec
ognized our capacities.
Coperate with us. It is for U all that we struggle.
March 13, 1956,
The Employees Councils of
General Life Insurance Co.
Is it not clear that these French men and women,
working in offices, are an integral part of the 1ame new
social formation as the Hungarian wmkers who made
the revolution, the British shop stewards, and those
Russian workers against whom Khrushchev and Shepi
lov thunder in vain? That statement of what they are
doing and why is socialism, theory and practice. To
J J8 FACING REALITY
write this program they had to draw to a head their
bitter experiences with all types of Socialist, Commu
nist, and Trotskyist bureaucrats.
But aren't there great areas of life outside of produc
tion and administration? There are. And as Marx, im
patient with these babblers, once replied to them, "Who
denies it?" The Marxist organization which understands
that its function is to learn and not to teach, will find
( after great efforts) that outside of production as well
as U it, the new society every day, every hour, estab-
-
- - listes itself with B massiveness, a solidity, and an ininite
-
variety, which challenges the official structure of socie
ty at every turn.
SOCIALIST ORGANIZATION
Organization is the cry. What about organization?
Modern industry, we are told, demands organization of
a kind different from these shop floor organizations.
The Marxist organization will have only to look to find
the miracles of organization which modern workers
have learned in modern industry and which have be
come second nature to them. Accounts of these are so
few that we quote again from the document which de
scribed the shop stewards. It deals with the Central
Committee of the Textile Machine Industry in Lan
cashire.
This is a meeting Qof shop stewards from all facto
ries in manufacturing spinning machinery, largely
one large cartel. It meets whenever a factory com
mittee thinks it necessary, but usually once a month
in a small public house in a back street in the cen
tre of Manchester. Now this committee is quite ty
pical of all such committees, which exist in hun
dreds of different shapes and sizes cmresponding
with the conditions in the factories and industries
for which they cater.
There are only a few informal rules, which can be
and are changed to suit the convenience of stew
ards attending. There are only very shadowy Qffi
cers and functions, and its decisions are not bind
ing on any individual factory which can accept or
rej ect them
.
Votes al'e very rarely taken; when they
are, one factory, no matter what the size, counts
as one vote. Sometimes B many as twenty factories
have been represented, sometimes only say half a
dozen. Any qhop steward may attend, although the
committee of a factory will delegate Qne O! two
WHAT TO DO AND HOW TO DO IT
II0
stewars to present any special views it wishes to
have dlscussed.
This Central Committee aways met on a Sunday
Stewards would arrive from all the little Lancashir
towns
.
from midday onward'. The landlord allotted
th
.
e blg assmblY room for . . . deliberations. From
mldday ntil 2 p. m. all drink beer and exchange
cnversatlOn a?out anything and everything. Sand
WIChes and pIes are brought from the pub for
luc
.
h. At 2 p.m. on Sundays the pubs have to stop
srvmg beer,
.
although everyone takes the precau
tlO of orderg an extra pint at 2 p.m. to help
theIr tmoats m the coming session. So at 2 o'clock
the chaIrman opens the meeting. The agenda is
made up on the sPQot. The Secretary reads any cor
reBPondence
.
The minutes of the last meeting are
approve? Ther is a minimum of business. The
hole tlme untIl 7 o'clock is taken O] with resolu-
.
tlOlS and
.
dicussios. At 7 o' clock the meeting clos
es, when It IS openmg time. Thereafter there is in
formal c?Jtinuation of discussion in groups, very
often poll tIcal debate until 10 o'clock when the pub
clo
.
se', when everybody goes home having had an
enJoyable day.
.
The task of the small organization earlier stated as
beg merely to record the facts of the existing socialist
SOCIety, now begins to appear fOi the gigantic and ut .
terl unprecedented undertaking that it is
.
But jt is pri
manly a concrete
.
tak
.
It can not only record, it can
coUtel"os the eXIstmg formations of the new socialist
sOCle agalllt the clumsy, tyraica., bureaucratic mon
trositles which claim that modern society can only live
If governed by them.
Finally the strangest featUre of so many of these
new organizations is that they have no official exist
ence :
I is noteworthy that this Central Committee of
Te
.
xtile Machi
.
ne Shop Stewards has no recognized
ex:stence. It IS completely outside any union ma
chiner or jurisdiction, and the emplnyers do not
and .Ill not negotiate with it. It i an informal
meetmg of the delegates from factories
'
yet it i
the poer Wich faces twenty boards of directors,
and
.
whlch wlll tomorrow, with the greatest of ease
abolIsh them .
.
'
. The same thing is so for nearly
all sch
.
commlttees. It i also of note that in the
constItutIon of the Confederation of Shipbuilding
I20 FACING REALITY
and Engineering Unions, in which neaTly all the
unions concerned are confederated, there is no
provision for such Central Committees, and shop
stewards and committees are not mentioned. But it
is a matter of fact that whenever any serious ques
tions arise locally, i. e. on a District Committee ba
sis, the District Committees invariably call unoffi
cial advisory meetings of all shop stewards and
committees concerned. Real policy is decided at
these meetings; they also carry it out, and once
called i ses:iQn for serious emergencies, they in
variably meet very frequently, at least once a weeK.
But can one reasonably compare these workers sit
tng in a pub with the machinery of management, be
fore which the whole world bnws down, in Detroit, in
Paris, in Moscow, as well as in Lancashire? That is ex
actly what the writer goes on to do:
Now (Communists and Trotskyites) will point
to the factory managements with their hierarchy
of superintendents and foremen and managers, and
the co-ordinating boards, and the hundreds of exe
cutives trained in all these things, and they will
ask . . . how ( the) public-house meeting is going
to replace an that . . . But the cold hard fact is
that committee was and is the le.ading committee
of an organisation which with the expenditure of
not 1 % of the time, with no full time highly paid
and trained managers, organised the entire labor
force of those factories down to the last apprentice
. . . Here, in 1947, with the bourgeoisie "organising"
their own factories, the separate Shop Stewards
Committees examined every plan of the manage
ments, and where changes of plan affected the
whole industry, the problems were dealt with by the
Central Committee, which arrived at agreed deci
sions. Within 24 hours every worker in the industry
knew all about it, every Shop Stewards Committee
wa' considering the application of the agreed line,
every management was requested to meet its com
mittee right away, where the stewards would m.ake
known how far they would agree, or the extent of
refusal, etc. Of course, there was strife, permanent
struggle between committees and management. But
the extent of management "organisation" in greater
or lesser degree also depended on the attitude of
the workers. At the level af the ma.chne, what the
worker thought right; at the l evel of foreman, the
WHAT TO DO AND HOW TO DO T
J2I
shop steward; at the level of management of a
factory, the Shop Stewards Committee ; and at the
level of the whole industry, the Central Committee.
Of the two parallel organi'ing functions, the one
of the workers was and is incomparably more vigo
rous and in every respect superior.
HOW DOCKERS ORGANIZE
The new society is to be found in the most un
expected places. The whole world knows that during
the last ten year a few thousand London dockers have
repeatedly fought pitched battles against their em
ployers, union bureaucrats, the government, and the
official Press, radio, and publicist', and repeatedly de
feated them. A great university has organized a research
project to find out what spirit it is that moves in t11em.
After years of investigation the researchers report their
findings with the sad conclusion that they a,re not much
wiser about the dockers than when they began. On one
acqasion when the dockers had once more paralyzed the
ports of the nation, the reporter of a great newspaper
sought to find the organizer. He finally located the ob
ject of his search Sitting in a small back room, without
secretary, without typewriter, without telephone. To
the university researcher and newspaper reporter dock
ers remain a mystery, and t them they will always
be a mystery, because the dockers have broken out of
the bureaucratic routie of bourgeois disorder and are
blasting new roads of social organization. This is the
secret of their strength and there is no other secret.
Perhaps the most conscious and finished opposition
to the parliamentary procedure and accepted routine
of traditional organizations which exists anywhere to
day is to be found among the dockers.
A few hundred dockers hold a meeting on the docks
to decide some course of policy. The first thing they
do is to inform the police to keep a.way and not to show
themselves further than a certain street or streets.
The pOlice, they know, are the greatest source of dis
order. They create a mood of hostility among tbe men
by their mere presence; if a disturbance does break out
the police wish to arrest the culprits, which at once
divides the dockers into conflicting groups. The dockers
keep their own order. "Pipe down there, lad" from two
or three of the older ones is usually sufficient to sup
press any too unruly heckler. Those who start fights are
quickly disciplined without any arests.
A dockers' meeting can break every rule of parlia-
122 FACING REALITY
mentary procedure. At any stage of a meeting the
chairman or the orator who has the rostrum can be
ignored while the meeting breaks up into two or three
separate meetings. A speaker who has won the atten
tion of a group is pushed forward and encouraged to
go up to the rostrum and take over from the sper
there. The dockers do not like votes, because votmg
results in organized opposite camps. They snse the
general sentiment and act on that. The vote IS alwas
taken only in one set of circumstances: when there IS
a discussion on whether to return to work or not. Then,
although opinions maY differ, the vote to go back
.
or
not go back is usually unanimous-for the sake of
ternal l0lidarity and also for the purpose of wanng
the authorities not to cultivate illusions about spl1ttmg
the ranks.
Their method of selecting delegates is equally op
posed to parliamentary procedure. Whom to send? "What
about Tom here?" "O.K. , Tom." "And Jim?" "O.K. Jim,
aDd Jack here will make three." On the surface it loos
haphazard. But the man who has said Tom to bem
with ha had good reason for beginning with him. JIm
is chosen to supplement Tom. And Jack completes a
trio. There may be hundreds or even thousands of men
present. Few have had anything to say about the se
lection. Distinctive with them is the fact tha.t; a second
delegation may consist of three entirely different peo-
ple.
. ' .
Their method of dealing WIth CommunIsts IS exem-
plary. They will choose a Communist as a delegate,
.
ad
when the meeting is over some of them may even SIt m
the pub listening to his exposition of C0nmunist doc
trine. But if they have reason to suspect, I the course
of negotiations, that he is concerned more w
.
ith
.
the
Commlmist line than the dockers' interests, he lS lIkely
to be dropped. They will hear of a strike in : sinle
motor plant in Coventry, and after one o
:
f thlr qUlt
.
e
informal meetings will write three or four hnes | peCll
on a piece of paper torn out of a notebook, extressmg
solidarity. They dispatch it by someone who IS con
venient. When the news gets known, not only the par
ticular firm but all other motor firms in Coventry trem
ble. For at such times the dockers do not trouble them
selves about niceties of distinction, and inasmuch as to
them one auto f in Coventry is pretty much the
same as another, they are ready to stop handling not
one make but all cas that come i from Coventry.
This is not to say that all dockers meetings and
WHAT TO DO AND HOW TO DO IT
I23
procedures are carried on in exactly this way. But what
matters is this. Like so many other tens upon tens of
millions of workers, they have repeatedly been cheated
and had their wishes thwarted by bureaucrats, Chair
rah, Secretary, and Committee members sitting at ta
bles, on platforms, with speakers to motion, seconders,
amendments, propo'als rej ected because not permissible
according to regulations, or according to Ma,y's or Rob
erts' Rules of Order, the whole apparatus of tried and
tested routine by which the will of the rank and file
is thwarted. The result is that they act in conscious
opposition to these procedures. It is often in this way,
O] conscious rej ection of the old, that the new develops
and S cherished and spread because of the enOl'mous
ICW power it generates.
With the dockers, as with all such highly advanced
outpo'ts of the new society, the new is often very much
entangled with the old, sometimes in superficially reac-
, tionary forms. The solidarity may ha,ve roots in national
and religious origins which cut the particular grouping
off from the general current of the society in which
they live and thus strengthen their sense of hostility
to its shabby practices. Side by side with the boldest
creativeness may go a clinging to reactionary forms
and ideas. It takes all sorts to make a world, and par
ticularly a new world. But the dockers have achieved a
social effectiveness and a striking power which so far
has expressed itself only in successful battles against
enormou' forces. When these f orces have finally fallen
apart, the energies and powers which have so far been
displayed chiefly in resistance will be free for creation
in industry, in politics, in social life. But already they
mean far more for the new society than the accumulat
eo wisdom of all the Party Conferences i Britain plus
the editorial staffs of all the newspapers plus the coun
cils of all the universitie.
RACE RELATIONS-TWO ROADS
It is obvious that if there ate two societies in con
flict, then each will be deeply affected by the other.
The Marxist organization will have to learn to distin
guish stages of the existence of the new society. Here
is a perfect example of the manner in which the socie
ties are entangled. It deals with the Negro question in
the United States.
In one of the most widely known of American auto
mobile plants, the administration from the top execu
tives to the lowliest members of the clerical staff is
I21 :ACING REALITY
white. For these people democracy means the right to
vote ; whom they employ and where they employ them
is their own business. The plant itself, however, em
ploys a nuber of Negroes. Therefore you will find on
the union executive board of a dozen people three or
four Negroes, including the Vice-President. But you
will find on examination that this i B compromise.
The union leaders, organizers of elections, know that
they must have some Negroes in the leadership, and
certain set jobs, such as the Reco:ding Secretary, are
regularly allotted to a Negro on the union election list.
Where the pressure from below is very great they will

sometimes, as in the pr-sent case, place a Negro on
the list as Vice-President. This is a typically bureau
cratic solution of an urgent problem. It will surprise the
American union bureaucrats, who denounce British co
lonialism with such unction, to know that the method
they use i -exactly the same as that practiced through
many decades by the British imperialists in thwarting
the aspirations of colonial peoples.
Go, however, to the shop floor. There you will fid
the free democracy that is the natural expression of
cooperative labor. In the shop floor organizations the
thousands of workers in the plant make no distinction
between whites and Negroes. They are concerned solely
with organizing their work and their struggles with
management as effectively as possible. The men who
can do this best are the leaders, be they white or Negro.
That, however, does not exhaUst even this summary
sketch. Many of these white workers, after collaborat
ing most democratically and intimately with Negro
workers in the plant, as soon as they leave the plant
step right back into the attitude of separation between
themselves and Negroes which has been taught them for
three hundred years by official society and which they
see being practiced by management in its own offices,
not in the South but in the North. Some overcome it.
Many do not. All are deeply affected by the contradic-
tion.
A complication such as this is repeated in an infin-
ite variety of forms in all spheres of society. It invades
the most intimate recesses of human personality. We
shall return to it again in some of its more subtle re
lationships. It is enough for the time being to under
stand that the new society exists, that it is engaged on
all fronts in a struggle to establish itself completely
and that the struggle most often is taking place in the
hearts of workers.
WHAT TO DO AND HOW TO DO IT
\25
Our task then is to recognize the new society, align
ourselves with it, and record the facts of its existence.
The next question is exactly how.
INDEPENDENT EDITORIAL COMMIT''EES
If the mind of the Marxist organization is clear about
what it has to do, then all problems are soluble by
tria] and error. But some of us have digested, as far
as we could, the experiences of the last thirty years.
Some of us have not only participated in these experi
ences but have made experiences of our own, seeking to
discovel' a practice conesponding

to the theory that
we developed. We can therefore give with a certain con
fidence the essential elements of the structure the
forms, and the procedures of such an organiztion.
These, of course, will be diversified by the circumstances
of na.tiona.l life, the starting point and personnel of
the small organization. The concrete results in every
concrete case at a particular stage will necessarily de
termine the steps which are to follow. Despite this in
evitable and in every respect advantageous variety the
general outline is clear.
The keystone of the arch is independent editoriah
committees, "independent" signifying that these com
mittees are independent of the organization.
We may take the average Marxist organization to
consist of anything from a dozen to three or four dozen
people who are bound together by their adherence to
the political ideas outlined in this document. The group
will be composed in more or less equal degree of work
ers \D the plant, clerical workers, and intellectuals.
An independent editorial committee consists of any
group of people, organized for the purpose of preparing
material for publication. They may be drawn together
by 8 member of the organization or by someone who is
not a. member of the organization. What distinguishes
them is that they are not necessarily members of the
organization and are not necessarily candidates for
membership. As Marx, working backward', finally be
gan his exposition of the intricacies of capitalist soci
ety from the examination of the single commodity, so
it is the all-sided examination of the independent edi
torial committee which will show the road for the
Marxist organization.
Experience has shown that a single 'orker, a mem
ber of a Marxist organization, can gather around him
a dozen workers, men and 'omen, who meet regularly
for the sole purpose of writing, discussing, and editing
126 FACING REALITY
articles for immediate publication; and immediate pub
lication means not a theoretical j ournal but a weekly
or a fortnightly paper.
The break with the old type of Marxist journal js
complete. The old type of j ournal consisted, and, where
persisting, still consists of articles written by intellec
tuals and advanced workers, telling the workers what to
think, what to do, how to make "the revolution," and.
the ultimate summit of understanding and wisdom, to
join the small organization. The journal contemplated
here wi do not the opposite but something entirely
different. It exists so that workers and other ordinary
people will tell each other and people like themselves
what they are thinking, what they are doing, and what
they want to do. In the course of so doing, the intel
lectuals and advanced workers, both inside and outide
the organization, will have their opportunity to learn.
There is no other way.
The immediate consequences of such a program are
immense, and inasmuch as the whole future of the
small organization, internally and externally, is wrapped
up here ( and much else besides) we shall list them sys
tematically. We shall start on the lowest level and step
by step mount to where logic and experience shall lead
us. I the end we shall find that we have covered in
strictly practical terms not merely the life of the or
ganization, but also in practical terms, the whole of the
tbeory of socialism that we have outlined earlier.
1. WHAT IS TO GO INTO SUCH A PAPER?
What those in the editorial committees wish to go
in will go into the paper. It will vary from country t
country. We have the direct experience of two coun
tries to go by and tentative experiences from others
which are enough to tell us all that is needed. In the
United states such editorial committees consisting of
workers have conSistently written about: conditions i
the shop; the union bureaucracy and why Amer
ican workers have not formed Shop Stewards Commit
tees on the British model. They raise the question of
chHdren and how to bring them up so B to save them
from slipping into the physical violence and psycholo
gical di sturbances which menace the children of every
class of society in the United States. (We may note
that the same problem must occupy parents in Rusia. )
Finally the Negro question torments all Americans,
black and white.
In France, dominating all other issues is the ques-
WHAT TO DO AND HOW TO DO IT
J27
tion of the union bmeaucracy and the Communist Par
ty. Whereas i the United States problems of revolu
tionary theory and history are always seen in the strict
est relation to a practical situation or problem, in France
the workers are interested in them for thei own sake.
We have expressly excluded the terms "workers" from
the phrase "independent editorial committee. " The con
ception of workers in the plants, or of any one class
dominating the whole of society and imposing its will
upon all others, was a product of a certain stage of
. industl'ial and social development. Today this concep-
tion iB, in the minds of workers, professional and cler
ical middle classes, and farmers alike, charged with all
the crimes and horrors of Stalinist totalitarianism. The
Hungarian workers knew too much about oppression
to wish to oppress anybody. The Hungarian nation as
a whole, except for the fanatics of the Party and the
Plan and their underlings, recognized that the working
class was the natural leader of the nation. Experience
has shown that the problems, the difficulties, the aspi
rations of the professional and clerical middle classes
take a natural place in such a paper and are read and
commented upon with acute interest by the workers in
the pla.nts.
still remaining on the most elementary level, we are
able to say that a dozen people by means of editorial
ccmmittees, each of which can easily contain three 01
four workers or black-coated workers, can be a channel
of communication between the paper and tens of thous
ands of worker and clerical employees. Half a dozen
'lIch committees can over a period give such an account
of the new society in its conflict with the old as repre
sents the most authentic picture of the contemporary
state of the nation.
2. WHO WILL READ SUCH A PAPER?
A single worker, member of a small organization,
Vorking with small informal editorial committees con
Sisting of people who were not members of the organ
ization, has been able in the course of a few months to
gain 1 50 subscribers to such a paper from one plant
alone. Each issue was read by at least five people. One
particular publication which dealt specifically with the
situation in a particular plant was read by at least
5000 workers
.
A happens so often with small organi
zations launching out into this new and untried field,
canyig with them as they do the heavy burden of the
past, the venture was not followed UD. We are reliably
]28 FACING ;EALITY
informed that in the excitement which followed the
publication of this particular issue of the periodic
.
al, it
would have been possible to get at least 1000 subscnbers.
3. BUT WHAT ABOUT THE CLASS STRUGGLE?
Isn't it the function of any socialist paper to act as
0 weapan in the class struggle, to aid the warkers in
their struggles with the emplayers and the gavernment?
Here are the ghosts of thirty years rising up to gather
a few mare thausand victims to add to the pile af carp
seF already claimed by that sad periad. Taday, now that
we have purged ourselves o it, we can laak back and
recard the calassal impertinence, the delirium which
infected so many heads in thase days in their deteni
natian to instruct, arganize, and lead sametimes tens
af millians of warkers by telling them what to believe,
what to do, what to think. The warkers they have in
t.heir minds do not exist and never existed anywhere
except in their awn minds.
In April 1957 a Caurt of Inquiry presented to Par
liament an accaunt af a cantinuing crisis between man
agement and warkers at Briggs Motor Bodies Limited,
Dagenham, England. owned by the Ford Mator Com
pany. This is what the report said.
From February 1, 1954 to May 13. 1955, there had
been 289 unafficial stappages.
For this the Shop Stewards were almast entirely re-
sponsible.
.
Between March 31 and August 31. 1956, a penod
of five month', these Shap Stewards. by the sale af lat
tery tickets, raised a sum of L16, 000 ( $50, 000) . They
gave out in prizes L9000 ( $27, 000) . The rest, some
L'7, 000 ( $21, 000) , they used far expenses a
.
nd
.
subsis
epce far meetings that they called, for prmtmg theIr
strike leaflets and ather material and for assisting
strikes in other plants. They did all this, ignaring the
unian afficials, sometimes in oppositian to them, and
sametimes in defiance af them. There were Cammun
ists amang them but the report was categorical that the
Communists were not the prime cause af the trauble.
What is 1t that small groups or for that matter
large groups of intellectuals and advanced
.
workers have
to teach worker like these? The questIOn wauld be
bEneath contempt were it nat for the tragic fact that
UI millions of words and ten thousand lines have been
wasted in the attempt to do just this.
The paper of the Marxist arganization can be a
weapan in the daily class struggle but only when the
WHA T TO ,DO AND HOW TO DO T 129
workers af the editorial committees want it to be so.
Experience has shown that there are times when work
ers, anxious far immediate publicatian and populariza
tion of a particular slogan or directive, will demand af
a paper that it do this.
'
There are times when they
wish complete, accurate, and strictly businesslike re
ports af the conditions af their labar OI of a strike situa
tion which they cannat get in the official Press or their
ullion publication. At such times they will use any pa
' per, however small, which they know is sympathetic
to them. What is ridiculaus and stultifying is the long
list of demands, the r
u
shing in with slogans and advice

as to what they ought to do. This workers do not want

and pay no attention to. The particular issue of the
periodical which had so striking a success did not con
tain a single slogan, a single directive of what to do.
There was a condition affecting many thousands af
workers in a plant, "local grievances." Fifteen workers
got together and drafted the statement, it was printed,
and that was enough.
The independent editing committee is not a social
form. It is not a preparation for the future. It is a con
venient symbol for getting together groups of people.
They are independent. They are to edit. The actual for
mations can be infinitely varied. In one of the most
important factories of Europe, there is a factory group
which publishes a factory newspaper. The editor, a man
of remarkable j ournalistic talent, is a regular contri
butor to a theoretical review. If and when, as is pro
posed, a paper of the kind proposed here is launched,
this grouping will be an independent editig committee
of the paper, without in the slightest degree affecting
its other activities. It should be noted, however, that
this group is the most militant and consistent of those
shop floor organizations which lead mass struggles and
the day-to-day warfare against the union bureaucracy.
In fact, it was originally formed for that purpose and
that continues to be its primary interest.
These relations on the whole constitute a model, but
only one model. There are and will be others. The pitfall
is to believe and to act as i these or other formations
are embryonic 'oviets, Workers Councils, parties of the
future, and such-like fantasies. No groUPS of individuals
can anticipate the social formations of the future. These
gestate, no one knows how long, but compensate by be
ing full-grown at birth. The mass organizations of
today are distinguished 8 much by aything as by
this: they do not worr about thei fu
t
e4
J8O FACING REALITY
4. BUT WHAT ABOUT SOCIALISM? WHAT ABOUT THEORY?
WHAT ABOUT THE REVOLUTION?
And finally,
WHAT ABOUT THE ORGANIZATION?
The old mentality, the old habits, the old pre-occu
pations, the psychology of leadership, these die hard,
even among those who have fought hard to abjure them.
It is characteristic of the Marxist organizations that,
while they have examined every political organization
in sight, in its origins, its pa:t, its present, and its fu
ture, we have never seen any attempt by any single one
of them to examine the bleak record of the Marxist
organization itself. Yet, if ever a social or political for
mation needed self-examination, this does. Fortunately
despite the: wide variation in details from country t
country, the basic pattern of development is the same.
The Marxist organization in the past aimed at suc
ce's, as all human organizations do and will always do,
and will fail unless they do. But it is the word "success"
that has to be defined. For thirty years the small or
ganization knew what it meant by success: success was
growing membership and influence, organized ifluence,
lD the unions, labor parties, ad other mas: organiza
tions of the working class. Above all, it sought mem
bership, and by membership it meant people traied
and educated and completely devoted to the particular
doctrines, the particular organizational practices, the
particular leadership of each particular group. It was
always, quite literally, preparing the elite corps Which
was in time to lead the workers ad keep on leading
them until at some distant time the bourgeoisie was
overthrown.
The Marxist group today usually has some members
who hold positions of great importance in the labor and
union world. It is anxious to gain new members, but
new members are a by-product of its success. Its success
at the present period and in the present stage of its
existence centers around two inseparable processes: 1)
the manner in which it multiplies its independent edi
torial committees; and
2
) the way in which the circu
lation of it' paper increases.
The possibilities are endless. Experience has shown
the influence it can exercise in the daily class struggle,
initiating directly through its own membership great
actions involving hundreds of thouands of workers i
key industries. But the organization of today will go
the way of it foreru ers if it does not uderstand
that its future does not depend OI the constant rcruit-

o
t
0
H
U
L
+
0

O
:
C
L

0
L
D
E
V
L
m

L
o
$
WHA T TO DO AWD HOW TO DO IJ !3!
ing and training and disciplining of professional or semi
pro
,
fessional revolutionaries in the Leninist manner.
Its task is to recognize and record. It can do this
only by plunging into the great mass of the people and
meeting the new society that is there. It must live by
this; there is no other wa.y it can live. But the Marxist
organization is a historical product. The concrete or
ganizations of today. and it is these we are dealulg with
and not abstractions, are composed of people who have
inherited the traditions and in some cases were actual
members of the small organizations which sought to
lead the workers. The Leninist theory and practice
have sunk deep into the political consciousness of the
world. This is the great stumblig block, the burden
not on the backs but in the minds of those very ones
who have. by hard theoretical examination of the past,
by trial and error, broken out of the prison of trying to
build organizations of professional revolutionaries. It is
not lack of money, nor lack of contacts, nor lack of
ideas, nor lack of knowledge which inhibits and cramps
and immobilizes the Marxist organization today. It is a
habit of mind and a way of life. The vanguard organi
z8,tion substituted political theory and an internal po
litical life for the human response' and sensitivities
of its members to ordinary people. It has now become
very difficult for them to gOo back into the stream of.
the community.
The organization which attempts to break out into
the masses to meet the new society that is there will
find that it is singularly ill-equipped for this task, ad
that this is true particularly among those who have
the most theoretical knowledge and experience. They
are the guardian' of the priciples and ideas which
any organization must have if it is to build. But these
idea have most often been worked out and tested
among trained people. Now, with the perspective of
going to the general public, the ideas have to stand the
test of the ordinary working man or member of the
general public. There is never any difficulty about mak
ing contact with these people. But with them, if the
ideas do not meet with their approval or hold their in
terest, their rej ection is immediate and definitive. They
do not stay to argue thrOough loyalty or devotion to the
organization. They simply go away and stay away. The
tEst of the ideas, therefore, iE extremely severe, even
ruthless. From this test the trained Marxists shrink back
in fear and take refuge in theoretical articles and his-
T32
FACING REALITY
torical or philosophical disquisition. Even when they
decide to make the attempt, they cannot give all that
they have to it. The world outside is n unknown quan
tity, fear of which inhibits and restnct. They are ter
ror-stricken lest, in going all the way to
.
meet the un

theoretical editorial committees, they
,
Ill weaken
,
or
soil or lose altogether the political pnnClples by whICh
they have lived and whose values they
.
are are ?f.
Imbued from the earliest days of theIr polItIcal
.
llfe
with the concept of theoretical purity and exclUSIve
ness ( direct result of the theory of the Vaguard Par
.
ty) ,
they cannot find the energy to take theIr theory mto
the outside world and allow it to become flesh and blood.
There are even organizations which have broken theor
tically with the past by efforts remarkale for then
consistency and great brilliance. They realIze wht the
next step must be. But they are unable to make It and
sit for years interminably discussing the preparatlOn
for that step.
It is the past, the past of thirty years, the past fro
which these organizations have come, that past expen.
ence without which they could not have arrived at he
theoretical understanding of today, it is that past WhICh
they must see in all its horrible concretene's before
they are fuly ared to finish with it forever.
The Marxist organization has developed certin char
acteristics which are peculiar to it and are
.
stlll depIY
imbedded in it. When, after yeaos of wok, It recogzes
that its hopes have failed, it does not dIssolve. !t turns
further inward, depending on an ever-deceasmg and
hardening core. It continues to carry out lts tasks on
8 routine level. What it is doin has become
.
a yay
of life. There are in many countnes such
.
orgamzatl?ns
which are doing what they have been domg for thrtY
yeas and will continue to do it until the end of tle
without ever expecting to get ay further than they
are. They folloW a pattern.
a) They become preoccupied with probems of or
ganization, relationships inside the orgamzatlon, the
lman and material resources they control.
b) They develop the most profound hstoricl rea
sons for their existence, which they combme wlth the
rost subj ective analyses of their o prsonal needs
and interests. Thus they attempt to Justify their use
lS existence to themselves and their circle of contacts.
c) Thev tend to seek association with former bitter
political eemles of the same political type a they are,
WHAT TO DO AND HOW TO DO IT I33
whose ideas and methods of thought and action are
SImilar and familiar to them. They pull out of old
dr;wers cherished political distinctions, polish them up
and, claiming that these hold and have always held
the key to the future, trot them out on all conceivable
occasions to keep their political pots boiling. Their
mode of existence has its basis in some petty publica
tion which they know is going nowhere but which they
keep alive to give the impre'sion that they are still
actively engaged in revolutionary work. On this basis
they are always ready for what they call a discusion.
This is not mere history. There are,

in every Europe
-
a
country i particular but not only in Europe, hundreds
and even thousands of such people. A investigator for
the London Times recently reported on a long list and he
merely touched the borders. Some of them have en
sconced themselves in the mass Labor parties where
they live peacefully, still preachig Marxism. They are
not only ruins. They corrupt and ruin the potentiaJities
of hundreds of young people every year, and the spec
tacle of this futility keeps many others from Marxism.
The attempt to break out O it wil be made. As
with all such attempts, from the beginning, not of
Marxism but of histor itself, there will be failures,
setback, some of them serious. But whereas those who
are really free of the pat can always find new strength
in such successes as they have had and after careful
thought renew their effots, that past which is so re
cent can and doe' overcome others, pushing them back
into the same routine which we have seen so often. In
the middle of the Twentieth Century a spectre is haunt
ing Marxism, keeping it within what is already a grave
yard, and when it attempts to come out into the open,
ready at the slightest sign of faltering, to show it the
way back.
We have to refer to those who give up the struggle.
The result is often personal deterioration, sometimes
ferocious forms of distorted personality. They have given
their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor to
the Marxist organization, have seen their hopes and
efforts tu to dUt, and turn into implacable enemies
of Marxism and Marxist. The worker in the plant
usually finds shelter among his fellows. In Britain,
workers and intellectuals alike may find refuge in the
Labor Party. In the United States, where there is no
mass workers' political organization t go to, deterio
ration is more 'evere. Those who do not find a place
34 FACING REALITY
in the union bureaucracy very often find their way
into the government, not infrequently placing their
knowledge at the disposal of Un-American Comittees
and even the F. B. 1. But whether they stay in or go
out, whatever they do, they are on the whole united
by their attitudes to certain fundamental aspects of
Marxism. Socialism they consider either to be a myth
(the outsiders) or so far in the distance that it is noth
ing any organization could do anything about ( the
insiders) . The revolution was either a stupid outburst
by a mass of ignorant worker ( the outsid:rs) or in ny_
case bound to fail and continue to fail untIl some tra
ed leadership is organized (the insiders) . The MarxIt
theory of society does not apply any more, ether be
cause it was never a correct picture of SOCIety ( the
outsider) or has not been studied correctly or senous
Iv enough ( the insiders) . There are infinite variations
nd combinations of all these, but in all cases they
amount to B total of disarray, disorder, and consci
,
ous
confusion before the concepts of theory, the revolutlOn,
ard socialism.
The Marxist organization may have decided to leave
behind it these dead and dying remnants of a JBBl
ag and make a popular paper the next
.
stage of its
existence. But it may be tempted to bell eve that
.
be
cause its basis is the independent editoria.l comflttee
of politically untrained people, because it can recog
nize that the new society, socialism, exists over vat
3,reas of the world and is striding fOiwar every day,
it may believe that for these reasons questIOns of the
ory, of socialism can be pushed aide, if 0Ily tempo
rarily. This, however, is merely another vanety of the
vanguard, the elite on t11e one hand and the u:ncoz
scious but backward mass on the other. The ellt: O
thiS case lowers itself to the level of the unconsclO.
even though socialistic mass. To think this is to np
pIe the new oganization before it has begun .
.
It 1S to
dig beneath its feet a pit deeper than any m WhlCh
its forerunners lie buried. It is sawing off the branch
on which it sits. O say that the task of the Ma1t
organization today is to recognize that the ne SOCIety
exists and to record the facts of its existence ?s not a
question of popularizing difficut rut?s. What It means
is that there is no longer any drstmctlOn between theory
and practice.
THEORY AND PRACTICE
Today there is no difference be,tween theory and
practice. The vanguad fanatics of every stripe, and
WHAT TO DO AND HOW TO DO IT
I3
, they are as many as the stripes of a zebra, will no
doubt view with Olympian scorn the proposal that the
Marxist organization recognize as its specific function
i this period the publication of a paper of the kind
we have outlined. Ten years ago, in one of the land
marks of the long struggle to the present position, one
group of its sponors wrote as follows:
I is precisely the character of our age and the ma
turity of humanity that oblitertes the opposition
between theory and practice, between the intellec-
tl QCclPatiQn of the "educated" and the masses . .
Three years later we developed this as follows :
All previous distinctions, politics and economics,
war and peace, agitation and propaganda, party
and mass, the individual and society, national, civil
and imperialist war, single country and one world,
immediate needs and ultimate solutions-all these
it is impossible to keep separate any longer. Total
planning is inseparable from permanent crisis, the
world struggle for the minds of men from the
world tendency to the complete mechanization of
men.
State capitalism is in itself the total contraiction,
absolute antagonism. In it are concentated all
the contradictions of revolution and counter-revo
lution. The proletariat, never so revolutionary as
it is today, is over half the world in the strangle
hold of Stalinism, the fonn of the counter;revolu
tion in our day, the absolute opposite of the prole
trian revolution.
It is the totality of these contradictions that today
compels philosophy, B total conception.
Our project for a certain type of paper is not a
brainwave. It is the result of a total philosophical con
ception ad of pooling together trial and error in many
countries. The theoretical question is therefore for us
a practical question, and this practical question i
volves B specific re-examination and revaluation not
merely of our own past but of history itself. Here is
the first practical example.
Many of those who are always so ready to give lec
tures and write long books about the Russian Revolu
tion have doubtless found that in general the great
masses of the workers were only abstractly interested.
The Ieason lies not in the ignorance of the workers
but in the ignorance of the teachers, their ignorance of
I36 FACIG REALITY
the history that i past and the history that is present
The first national conference of Russian trade unions
took place in the months between the March Revolu
tion and the seizure of power by the Bolsheviks in Oc
tober. But even before the unions had held the confer
ence the workers in the big plants all over Russia had
f{"ed factory committees, a form of shop floor organi
zation. Thele factory committees supported the Bol
sheviks devotedly in their struggle for power, but they
had ideas of theil' own. Even before the seizure of
power by the Bolsheviks, the factory committees had
called a national conference and their aim was to take
over completely the management of industry. They were
before their time. They and their claims to manage
industrY were almost immediately suppressed by the
Bolsheviks who preferred that power over production
should be in the hands of unions. Thus, i the first
great proletarian revolution i the world, shop floor
organizations clashed violently with trade unions and
were suppressed only after a bitter struggle. For well
over thirty year this amazing anticipation of the fu
ture was ignored by Marxists. Only recently has it come
to the notice of a few who reognize its significance for
today.
What exactly happened, what were the consequen-
ces, and above all, why did it happen? What was the
relation of the factory' committees to the unions and
to the Soviets? These are theoretical and historical
questions of the most profound importance. But i is
precisely questions of this type that occupy the mInds
of tens of millions of workers, not only in Europe but
in the supposedly politically backward working cla of
the United States. American and other workers are not
waiting for the revolution to solve this problem. They
are faced with it now, every day. This i the problem
the shop stewards have partially solved, tomorrow
perhaps to tackle it in a new way. The Hungarian
worker solved it triumphantly and built on it a gov
e:nment which commanded thi allegiance of the
whole nation. What is the difference between this theory
and this practice? None at all.
This is the theory that workers want. Experience
has shown that they reject slogans and instructions of
what to do. They know what to do. What they want are
historical experiences which apply to their own prob
lems and aims, not t abstractions like "the revolu
tion." They do not liten to people who t t train
them fOT the revolution. Workers are not tramed t do
WHAT TO DO AND HOW TO DO IT
137
historical research, the nature of their work does not
permit them to do this. That is precisely what socialism
will permit to those who wish it and then such history.
particularly of mass movements, will be written as will
make the theoreticians hide their heads in shame. This
is not a passing brick. There is not a single book i
English dealing with the factory committees in Russia.
In one study, and very brief it is, of Russian Trade
Unions, there are a few paragraph on this nation
wide resolution of the immature Russian proletariat of
1917 to take into its own hands the management of
industry. From this book you cannot leai'n the Simplest
things, as for example whether these factory commit
tEes of Russia 1917 were elected on a factory-wide scale
with slates Iepresenting the factory as a whole ( Ameri
can style) or whether they were elected department by
department ( as is the custom in England) , if the slates
vvere presented by political parties, etc. These are the
things workers want to know. These are the things
serious students of theo:ry want to know. Here is an
opportunity for some of these devoted Marxists to make
tbemselves useful for once-the Russians (way back in
1927) published a study called Oktyabrskaya Revolutsi
yai Fabzavkomy, the October Revolution and the Fac
tory Committees. There are thousands upon thousands
of workers and theoretically-minded intellectuals in ev
ery country who today have the experience and the
need to understand an account of what happened and
why. It raises every single fundamental problem of the
Russian Revolution and the contemporary day-to-day
st:!ggle for socialism. This is theory and practice.
Another example, even more striking. Djilas, the
Yugoslav, has intrigued all the political pundits with
his analysis of Communism. His world-shaking discov
ery is that all previous classes who seized and held
power were in an economic position to maintain it.
The workers, however, he more than implies, lack this
strategic hold on the economy and therefore cannot
rule
. Such is the degradation of thought in our day
that this is seriously discusse d as a contribution to
Marxism. All over the world there are workers who have
never read a line of Marx but would dismiss Djilas
with hearty laughter. They are the Marxists of our day.
It is precisely the economic maturity of the workers,
their ability to run the economy, their mastery of the
needs, processes, and inter-relations of production, it is
precisely this that constitutes the economic basis of the
new society. This existence in actuality of the new soci-
FACING REALITY
138
-:, now, -r :r- -- ---:-.- r-. now, . r.t :Ju
t--z . .-a a,-- rr- .r:-.-.:.- . -

r.-.

.:r
n,.r. i ..-:.:.-- r .rr ,.: r.:-.,. I .-r.:.-- -r
r.:

. .- r.--: -roa. -,- .- r-r.-a, na-,..,, .-a

na.. .:-:r, :r.: . -- -----.- s:- -.-b -.
:.:.r-at,:r-r..:,.-a:r-r:

-.

rr-., .:r- a.:.::.:.-- r r.:-

.-a .: .. --|,
t,a-a-.:.-a.-,:r-,:---::r.:---...tr- :

-a-:
:.-a:r- ,.: w.:r :r- -..-, -:. .-a .--.-:,

.:
:r-:.,-r-.-:r-, ..- .:,.---:, .:r :r- ,.-.:

r..
:...r-..-:.-a.a-.-r:r-,.-:---a:-.-::--

w- a.-:r-.-r-.-:- -,.- .::.

. A ..-r,-.,:-.-.aHistor of the Russian Rev

lution r.-r .:: :..-- :r- r.:-:, -r :r- -.z-. 1

:r- n-.-:a:.-- r.- :r- r..: -:.r -:--- r.-:-. ,
--.::-- .-a :..a- a-.-- :- :r- ,.---: a.,, --
:r.: nr.ar-r-., nar,.-.-, .-a sar- r..- .-.-

|-a
r-.- :r- na:.- -.z-. r..- .-.-r-a : =. ...
,-.:- :- ..:- :r. r.:-., ro. -a. -- :.- -r-.-
a.s:.:.-...:.--. :r-r--:.-:r c-,.-, .-a:r-.-.-
r-:.-: .-r-r.-a.-ana-,..,

r-a.,, :.a,r: , :r- -.--: -r -a. --

:.-
- r--z .-z .: :r- ,.-.: -.--: -r :r- .-.ra:.-:

.
"
,.: -r :r- -.z-. .-a:r- ..- -r :r-,--,

r-=.:r
-- -,-. n-.. :r- --a -r :r- v.---r n-.-ra:.-- :r-
-.z-. .-a:r- ---: ,--,:-.a- . a

,-..: .:
:.,: :-:.r.r:r-.. --,-

-., not .,..-: F ---

...:--..: .-a ,..--: .: .,.: :r- r- r.a r.
:r-.::-a :r-.-.-:a:.-- r-a.,, :-:,-:-.a.,a: :-
a., - ---a .- .---a-: r :r- :.a,,r- nf :r-- ,--
: I a,:r-r-..,- .:r-.:a-- .:r--aa-.:-a
::r-a.,-.::-a:r-.w----a. .-an---r:.--
..:a:a,,:,, Histor of the En

ages. r-,.-a,-
-r ,--,:- .- .--.-:, .:: a-a-.:.-a .: t

:, :r-

--:
-- ,--,:- -r :-a., .-a :r- ---.-: ,-:.-- I .. --.
-., :- r.-a-.- ,---:..:.-, .---a-: -r r--.z-
(

.-a ---: ,-,:- .- :r- v.---r n-..:a:.-- :r.-

:r-.-,-.: r:r---.-:,:.--.

- r-.-::, :r- .- :r.-, r.,;---a .- :r- r-,r.r

r..-:a:.--v-.a :-a., .:.:r- :.a,,:

-r :r-LV
-::-. .,..-: c.--:: :r.: .::-. n:.r :,..:.
a: ,.-..a- . ..-r Histor of the Levellers.
a. r.--.--r, :r- .- .:a.:.--, -:r,:- .

r..
-
.-
..:--..- a-,.--, r--a .:-rr .- :r-
.
:-:.-.- c...:
w.. n-.-:r- n-,. ,-,:-.-:r-u..:-as:.:-

r.-
a--- ,:--a.a -:z, .: :-a.,. r-: OS, -- HItOr
of the Negroes in the Civil War . .-,.-.
WHAT TO DO AND HOW TO DO IT
139
r,-..---- r. r-- :r.: -.z-. .- -.-., --a-
1) .:r :r-..o-.-:.--:r-. r.::r-,---a:-r.-
..-.: --,.-:- . :r-,--:r-,-:--r, -:--
.:aa.- a-r .- :r-- a: r-- :r-, ..- .a,r: :-
:r-.: --:.--, .z .-,-.t-a:,r-. :r- r- :r- a.,..--
of :r- :..s.: ----: :r-.- ..- .-, t-a.,--i.
..:-r:--:a.: r- .-,---: ,-.. r..- --- a-.-, ,a:
.-| :aa.-, :r-a,r -: -r:-- .- .- .-.a-.- ..
.-- o.-. .-a -.-..,..-:r-,r..- r--:r-...-.a.
-- :- ...:r ST -.,.-...:.-- -. ,.-a, -r ,--,:-
r :.-, 1en:;e are -..-a- .- .r.-, :- --.-,r.
:-..-.r..r-..:.-:-:r-,.-.:-a,r:r-,--,:-rr-
,..--.,r- -r :r- .-a-,--a--: -a.:...: -.::-- .,
,:.- :- :r- . :- :r--.z-. rr-.- . - ---a r-.
:|- :-,-.-.-,:r.-,, :-----.:t-:...-
ed r-: :r- .-.-ia:.--.
C rr- : -.,.-, --.-..: .-a a.,..-- :- :r-
Jarxit -.---: . r.: r. --- a---, . :- be
,.--.-. r. --: --- a--- .- :-,..a :- :r- w-.z-.
c-a--.: .- na-,.., rr-- c-a--.: ,.t:.r-a . -
..- r r-.::-:.,.,r:-:,a-.-a, --:.:a:.--.: ,.-
,-.r ...r-:-, a-a--: -r .:: z.-a- r.,-:r--
:r-, ---.:.:a:- :r- :,.--.-a. --::--:.---r .:-...:
OI :r- a-a-.:.-a.-, -r :r- -- --.-:, :r.: -.:.
.-,r-:- :-:r--r.::.-.:r-:-a:- :r- :r-na-
,.-..- -.z-. .---,:.r-a .- :--.-a.:- ..-,- -r
:... rr-- a--a--: ..- :r- .---:a -r ..: :r-,
did, .-a -r -.--,.-.:-..,-.:.---, r.: :r-, .-:-a
ed : a-. A ..:.. a, -r ---a--: -s.:. r.. r-
..-a -.- . --..:.::.:-..:a.- a-r. r.---. -s
.:-a --a:a --: -r-.- c-::--:-a .-a :...:.:-a .:.
:i- .-.a -r -a.:.-,, .: a:a - .-.a , -.-.
.-a a-a-.i-a SE -- -:r-. --::--:.-- . -.-. .-.a
.-a a-a-.:-a::. ..::----z-. .-:r-,:.-:
..: :r-, ,.o,--a :- a .a: ,.-aa-:.--, .-a: :r-
,-:.--, :|- .., .-a ,.-:---:, .-a: r.-.,-,-:.-,.
:- ..:.-, r:.:s : i-:.- .:r ,..- - --,:-:- a
,.-:a.- .-a --:--,:r- r-:.-a --:--:, :r-:.r- .-a
t.-.:r r :r- --..:.: --.-:, H a-r B -::--:.-- ::
:ar .-..- :- - a--- : :r-.- . -:- ---..--.-,
-.,r- or :r- ::.r a-r.:-- r-. :r-.. -: -..-a
:.z r.-r r.s -- o.-.:.z-- :r- :.:-.: -:.....
:.--: :-:-.a -r a-.-, :r. :r-, .-.a s..:.- -ir--
:.-- r a--a--: :.::-- , na-,....- .-:-:r--:a.r
.-+ :r-- -: -rr :- r-.a :r- v.---r -.z-.
rr-.- . -- :--a he : ---:.-a- .:r :r- lt.
rr-:-.rrt- -:r-.r.:.na::r- :--- .,r..- rr--
BIO ,-:.-.::.zr-.:r-:.:s.-:.,.-...:.--:-,-.
I
FACING REALITY
form. These are talks which only they can perform.
This is what the workers need from us. And this i
what we need, to bring Marxist theory up to date and
to fit ourselves for the task of listening to workers,
to sensitize ourselvel to catch the true significance and
the overtones of their statements of their problems, their
aims and aspirations. What is the difference today
between theory and practice, between theory for the
intellectuals and theory for the masses ? There is none.
As we have said earlier, in every depaltment of modern
intellectual and scientific life immense discoveries have _
been made which tear to bits the assumptions by which
our society lives and point the way to a new society.
Many workers know one or the other of these discov
eries very well. The workers wish to know as much of
this as they can and need to know. As some of U have
written in the document of 1950 previously referred to:
" . . . the whole development of the obj ective situation,
demands the fully liberated historical creativeness of
the masses, their . sense and reason, a new and hgher
organization of labor, new social ties, associated hu
manity. That is the solution to the problems of pro
duction and to the problems of philosophy. Philosophy
must become proletarian."
We repeat : in all these scientific discoveries what
Is lacking is an integrating principle, some comprehen
sive universal which will relate them to each other and
to society and open out all their possibilities. This in
tegration will not come at one time, nor will it be the
work of any one man or any group of men. But this
much is certain, that it can come only from men who
have grasped the role of the great masses of the people
in the new society and understand that the people are
today ready to initiate the vast changes in society
which the Hungarian workers initiated. The Marxist
orgaizations and the intellectuals in particular must
understand that it is their task to make all this know
ledge available to the people in such terms al they
cln understand. This is not popularization. It has been
proved that the mot difficult of social, political, artis
tic, and philosophical conceptions can be presented to
the people with simplicity and without vulgarization.
But to do this demands mastery of the subject and
understanding of the people, of the terms of their own
experiences. It is the second of these which i so hard
to come by. We have indicated the road.
.
WHA T TO DO AND HOW TO DO IT 141
PAPER AND THE PEOPLT
One more task . remains. The Marxist organization
I
ha its own POlitical ideas, and velY clear-cut ideas
they are. The great masses of the people have some
of thee ideas but in their own form. To very may of
these Ideas, however, they are in varying degrees op
POSd. That is precisely why they must have the oppor-
' .tuty to say what they think in their own way. This,
WhICh causes such consternation to certain Marxists
and drives others to a frenzy of exhortation is for us
a condition of social existence, a contradictio that has
constantly to be overcome. The organizations living in
the past know nothing of this. We on our part welcome it
and we propose now to show in what way this perma
nent condition becomes the source of life and progress.
We shall analyze this contradiction in:
a) Voting or not voting for such parties as the
Democratic Party in the United States, the Com_
munist Party in France, and the Labor Party in
Great Britain.
b) The Negro Question in the United States.
c) The Hungarian Revolution as it affected work-
ers:
( 1) in the United States,
( 2) in Britain,
( 3) i France.
.
These are varied enough. They show contradiction
( often sharp antagonism) between what one would as
sume to be a Marxist policy and the attitude of great
masses of workers. They allow us to open up the ques
tion of policy i the paper.
POLICY AND THE PEOPLE
I. VOTING
Voting or not voting for such parties as the
Democratic Party in the United States, the Communist
Party in France, and the Labor Party in Great Britain:
how many heads in Marxist organizations have pre
maturely gone gray, how many eyes have grown dim
in the frantic efforts to answer these questions satis
factorily?
THE LABOR PARTY I BRITAIN
et us begm with the one in which most are agreed,
votmg for the Labor Party i England. Lenin taught
that you vote for the Labor Party in order to put the
labor leaders in power so a t expose their cowardly
and capitalistic character, whereupon the w o r k e r s
l1? FACING REALITY
would turn to another party. This was and is the crux
of the matter. In 1958 it is clear that the workers do
not see the future in terms of another party. They
think in terms of entirely new social and political for
mations. Of all the fantastic absurdities into which
the Marxist organizations weie led by this preparing
of themselves to be the leaders in the struggle for so
cialism, the prize must go to Trotsky himself. In 1934
he actually proposed and engineered a scheme (for that
lS what it was) by which a few dozen Trotskyites in
. every country would go into the Social-Democratic Par
ties, carry on an illtensive agitation there for a bef
period, by this means split off a few thousand advanced
workers, and thus create the party which would lead
the revolution. For Russians in 1903-1917 to practice
l)olitics, in the more exclusive sense of that word, sig
nified an immense social advance. Trotsky faithfully
transferred the theory bon of these circumstances to
other parts of the world where politics meant a social
:tivity already viewed with suspicion, if not outworn.
That is the only reasonable explanation, and it is U
charitable one, for this apotheosis of the foolishness
inherent in small organizations dressing up as big ones.
Once we get rid of these fantasies, we can begin the
practice of recording the facts, and the facts of the
workers' movement towards the new society defy the
efforts of the Marxist organizations to enclose them
in their little programs. In 1945 in England the shop
stewards decided that the Labor Party should be given
the power with a large maj ority. They carried out a
magnificent campaign of their own, seeing to it that all
whom they were in contact with directly or idirectly.
ilside and outside the plant, should vote. In so doing
they were taking the lead of B general sentiment in
the country. The Labor Party was returned by a large
maj ority.
By 1956 the situation had changed. The workers.
di sillusioned, voted apathetically. Many did not vote
at all. The Marxist organization would have been per
forming its function if it had obsffved and clearly ex
pressed this movement of the working class. Shouting
slogans as to whether the workers should or should
not vote, or should or should not get out the vote, on
the part of small organizations, and worse still, debat
ing the matter, is typical of the old practices. Lenin
advocated that revolutionaries take advantage of par
liamentary elections because they offered a platfom
to expose the crimes of bourgeois society. Who believes
WHAT TO DO AND HOW TO DO IT 143
today that this i necessary? The parliamentary elec
tion today in 1958 is not what it was in 1917 or even
1927. I has declined in the political estimation of all
' concerned i the old countries. It has its uses and the
working class is always prepared to use elections trade
unions, labor parties, or Whatever instrument tlel'e is
to hand. But the actual election is today merely a test
ing ground and a sort of Gallup Poll for far more serious
engagements, retreats, and mobilizations, to settle the
fundamental problems of society. Under these circum
stances the preoccupation with voting or not voting,
or whether the Marxist organization is committing a
theoretical crime by advocating a vote fnr the Labor
Party, is not only absurd. It shows how the small or
ganization, beginning from a revolutionary standpoint
but one which is 50 years old, gets itself into the toils
of reaction. For this preoccupation with voting or not
voting is no moe tha a capitulation to Parliamentary
Democracy, preClsely the arena to which the bourgeoisie
and the labor bureaucracy seek to confine the working
class. In Britain the Marxist does not only vote for
the Labor Party. He may even be a member of it. But
Ii action, positive or negative, is not a pricipled ques
tIon.
To this day the Marxist organizations have no C0D~
c8ption of the fact that the British working clas', for
example, sees the vote merely as palt of its total strug
gle for the new society. Its apathy in regard to voting
in 1956 was merely the negative aspect of its determi
nation to transfer its efforts to the industrial plane.
Starting from 1954 it has been attacking the govern
ment and the employers on wages and working condi
tions. It is common knowledge that its wages (for what
they are) are in advance of the government cost of liv
ing index (fOT what that is) . They have been strength
ening their independent organiZations il relation to
he unio
.
leadership,
.
and have forced this leadership
Into a mIlItancy foreIgn to it, a militancy which has
led it into a position of actual defiance of the govern
ment. Thus today when the Tory government has a
substantial majority, it is helpless before the working
class. The situation in the country is more tense than
it has been for thirty years and both sides are anglino
for position in a showdown which seems imminent. Re
peatedly millions of workers have made clear, and the
union leaders have had to repeat, that the organized
labor movement has its own policy in regard to inflation,
and it will not coperate with the government. The
I+ FACING REALITY
,:.-..-.: ..,. ::.: :.-.., =-. ::- 1956 -r--:.--,
! ... :.- ..,:: :- --..- ::.: .:. ,-r.-.-., ..-- .:
-...., . ,.-.: .--..r --.r .:-.r- t- r-rr-=-- ..- .-
:... -. ::- t.... -r r..r..--:.., u---..-, .: ..
.-.-r.:-r- -----: v-..=:.r- v. o..:.|-rr -r ::-
n.,.:=.-. ---.v.i--.... n--.. -r ::- r-r: :- ::-
,-r.-, -r -..r-.., ::- u-= -....r-t,t.,.., .:..-.
..,....:---.,-..:.-..i:.....--:-r.-::---.r.:,
-r ::- ....,,.-r-. .--..r.. .. ::- ..:.-..r...:.-. ::-
--..:.-......:.-. ..- ::- .-..:.-..r...:.-- -r .:--r .
.-:.- .:--r -.|-..
A NEW LANGUAGE
+:- --.r.:, .. ::.: . ,.-.: ..t-- -r ,--,r- .-
n..:... :.-..,,-..,--::.:::-r.--.r.-:,=.rr.-r
.-..:---.r-.:,.-,-.-.--::..,--=..---=-:.rr-.,
.., :.- -.- .--.-:, -. ::- -.: --.--..--: ....-
wages.
+:.: ..::-:..:: .t-.: ::- -..... .-n-.:..-t.: .:
. --:::-=:-r-:..:: w..: .rr::-.-,--,r- -.rr::-
--r.--:.-- --:...:, .. =i.: r.-.. ,-r.:.-.r r-.---..
...-. r-.--.. ..- , -....r..:. .,-.| ..- =..:-. +:-
:..., .-= ::- --.--,:.-.. =:.-: ---.:.:.:- . .--..r..:
.--.-:, ..- .. ..--,.-..-- .- n..:. :--., .. ::-,
=-.-..--,.-..--..n..,..,-.o-:-t--...-.::-o.,
-.r-.- ::- .---r.:.-. t-,.- c-,-=-.r.rr, -.:.tt..:--
.:.-.-=.--.-:,::.:::-.-=:-.-,.-.-.:.:--=----
:.r|. -.rr-.-.:r..,..,-r.-::--.r--.n.:=:.:::-
,.-.t ...-. -r ::-,--,r- ::-.-r--. ::..| .--.: .rr
:... ::.: ,--,r-:.-- :- ,.-.. .: i: .. ,.tr..:-- --
=.-.- n-..,--...--..-:-.. -- ..----:-, :- r..- -.:
..-,.tr...::-.-..r:........-. -r.-:-.-.-..:.
..:.-. .--,-.--.:.,-. +:-.-,.-r.-.:.-.. .-- ..-r-...
+.-.-,--,r---.-:-.-.|--=::-,.-.:.-..:-..|.::-,
-- .-: ..--..:..- ::- ...=-.. ::-, ,-: +- a- ::..
.-,..--. . :......, .-- . ,:.r-.-,:, -r ,-r.:.-.r r.r-
:..: ::-,:.--.-: ,-: u- --- --.r- -r.-.:t, . ,.-.
:.-...-r.-=-.|-..::.:::--r--:.-..,.::,-r1956
-.. -.-r, ::- --.:-.,..: -r . -t.r...:.-- r -- ::-
..-..:...r --r...-- -r 1957. ir r-. -..-....-.. ..i-
.-,-.--.-|.-=::.: =-.r-:-:.--:.|-..,.-:.
.-rr ::- .-.,-...t.r.:, -r ---.-.., =:-::-- i: =.. ..-
-. ..=..- =:-::-.:- .:-.r-..,,--:.: -- -,,-.- .::
+:-r.:.r.:, -r::-,.-.:.--.:-=.::-r.:.r.:, -r::-.-
,.----.,.:.-.. i.- .: .:-=. ,-..:.--r, ::- r-rr, -r
:..-..: --,.....:.-.. . ::-.- .=-.:.., 8 :- =:-::-:
:---:-r--::-r.t-.r.-:,--.-:=:-::--:--.,r,a
WHAT TO DO AND HOW TO DO T
14:
r-- ::- r.t-- r..:, .-:.--r, -. .-: =:-:.-- :- =-..
....--::-
j
.t--r.-:,--.-:
+:- :..| -r::-:..-.:-.,.....:.-- .. :- ,.-- ::-
-.|--. ..- ::- -::-- -,,.-..-- -r...-. . --..
=:---t,. ---. -. . ..rr .-.r- :- --,.- =.:: ::-.- ..
. ,--...- ,--.-.:.:.-. -r ::- .:.,- ::-, ..- ,-..,
:.-.,: i: ..:- ,.-- ::- ::- -,,-.:...:, :- ---.-.
-.:- ::-.- --,-..-.--. ..- ::-.,::. =:.-. ..- .--
:.-. ,..:- ---:..-.-:-., +:.. .. --.- .-: ,.....r,
.. -.--. :- .-r, ::- ..rr -.,.....:.-- :- :.. ..
:- r...r.:.:- ::- ...-. of the ,-,,.- ., ,...-.- ,:
:.- ---...-. -r =:.: ::-, =..: :- --

i.r-..:.-. ..
=:.: ::- ,--,r- --,...-, ..- ..r-..:.-- .. ::- r..-
:.---r::-:..-..:..:-:r--:..r..-::-.--..---=-.|-.
..::.. ,--.-- -r.--.-:, o.-- ::.. .. .--. .--.-- .--
...:..-:.-- ...| ..:- ....,..r.-..-- w- :.-- .:-=.
.|.-.a- ::.: .,.:.:.-..r .r-,... .- VE ..: -- ::..
-.=-..:--::.:=.rrr..-.,r.--..::-,.,---r .
v..-..: --,.....:.-. .. . -..--: .-..r: -: ..-,.-.: -,
t-a, -r =-.|-.. i. ::- 1945 -r--:.-- .,.:.:.-. :-
-.- -.:..---:-=-.r----:...r, :.--,r.,--.r-,-
,..:.-::- ,.--r--:.-.....-.-r..-: . ,.,-.i. 1956
.:=-.r- .-: :.-- --.- .- i::.-. =-.|--. ..- ,..
:.-.r.-r, ..-.-.. r-.. --.:...r.--. -..-.-.:--. -..
-.-.:-.:- ....-r--:.-.. .:-::-.:.-. r-. .--.:...
+-., -.--.-.:- -- -.--.-.:-.:-t---:-.:--+:-,.,-.
W VB] .:.,-r.-, .---.-.-,r,i-:.-.:=.tr....--.:
:.- --.-r...-.::.:r-- .: ::- ,.-.:.-... .- -,...-.r
,.-.:.-. w--|-.. :.-- .- -.rr.-.r:, .. -..:....., ::-
r.t-- r.-:, ..- .-.-- r-.--.. .-r,.., -. ::-.. .:-,
.:-=.-- -.,.....:.--.. ..- ..rr --:.., :-. ::- r.t-
r.-:, u-.-r, .rr ::- .:-, .:-=..-. ..- -t-.. -:
:.-r.---r..:,+:-:..-..:-.,.-...:.-..=.rr--=-rr
:- :.|- ::-.- -r--:-..r :-.- r.- ::-,.:.-.r.. t--.-.
-r--|--.::-,.-.--.--r-:.:,- .:::.:
3 COMNIST PARTY IN FRANCE
r-- .-- -r u ::.. r.---- :- ---.-- -,.-.-.rr,
-.rrt- --r.-rr--::----..---:t.---..-r..,,-...
i: =.rr --.-- --.:..- -::-.. :- -..:..-:.-- w:.: ::-,
=.rr ..| .. ::- --,.....:.-- :- -- =:-- r.--- =.::
-r--:.--. ... --.:-,r.|-v-..--:+:-.- ::- c-.
-..:r.-:,.: -.-:.-r--|--...r.:.,::t----::-
,-.--.--: ::--.,: ,..r..-.:.., -... ..- .. .:.rr
::-r.-,-.:r---- .-:- v----: r-,..r.:..- i..: .:::-
-.:, -r ::- --,.-...:..- .: -r--:.-. :.- :- .----.:-
.-:.-,r-:::-=--|-.,.-:.-.=:.-:=.rrr--..--..r
i.:-a-..t ,-.----:: o--: ::- =--.--. --..
146 FACING REALITY
it by their support of the Communist Party at the polls?
In fact, these debate', icluding the advisability or
necessity of raising a slogan for a government of social
ists and communists, are the low water marIe of sterility.
There is no necessity for the Marxist O'ganization to
take any fixed position on this question at all, and this
has been so for over twenty years. In 1936 the small
organizations tore themselves to pieces over whether
or not to vote or to advocate voting for the Popular
Front. The workers for the most part voted the Popu
lar Front into pOwel'. But at the same time they in-_
vaded the factories and created what Leon Blum has
described in the most unequivocal ters as a revolu
tionary situation. This action fell like a thunderbolt
on government, bourgeoisie, Communist Party. Socialist
Party alike. It is quite obviou' that in the pre-election
period the great body of the people were thinking
thoughts quite other than those with which year after
year they had approached other elections. The Marxist
organizations would have been much more usefully em
ployed in learning than in teaching.
As we have shown, in 1947 the Communist Party
wielded a powerful influence in the working class (par
ticularly in the union movement) and other sections of
the population; its Press was the most widely read in
France and it won B great success in the elections. In
1957 its influence in the working class had undergone
a catastrophic decline, the number of its publication
had decreased, the circulation of its daily paper had sunk
from first place to far below that of three or four other
daily papers, but its election successes in 1957 were
greater than those of 1947.
This is no place to go into analyses of twenty years
of French political life, but this much is clear - the
working people of France do not confuse voting i
elections with their 'truggle for a new society. They
have broken out of the circle of ideas in which bour
geois society struggles to confine them, the belief that
voting for a party is the be-all and end-all of democra
cy. They have put voting in its place and see it as only
one, and a subordinate one, of their total social move
ment and exploration. It is this total movement that
matters to the Marxist organization, as much of it as
a small organization can grasp and reproduce.
The process by which great masses of workers ar
rive at a decision to mae B totally unexpected but
drastic change of direction in their politics remains one
of the great mysteries of social psychology and politics.
WHAT TO DO AND HOW TO DO IT l1T
But it i not the result of a sudden inspiration. It is 3
pl'?cess, it has a beginning, B middle, and an end.
WIthout Press, radio, or any visible means of communi
cation, workers communicate it to one another. Of all
llodern p?lti
.
cal figures, Lenin had an almost psychic
gIft for d1Vmmg these movements. From the slenderest
data he
.
could reconstruct the whole. His intuitive sym
pathy wlth the masses of the Russian people was forti
fied and ass'med logical form because he had a philo
sophy of sOClety, saw the movements of the masses as
overned by
.
ce:tain laws of social motion. He could say
l 1917, pomtmg to the Soviets before the Octobel'
revolution: You are looking for socialism everywhere
and cannot see it here, all around us. At the other ex
treme are the reports of the secret police, who do not
\,'ant to teach the masses anything but look and listen
carefully with trained eyes and ears for the signs of
new developments. The Marxist organization can learn
from both. Its fUnction is to report the movement tow
8IOS the new society. Not only does it make itself ridi
culous by pontificatmg about whom the workers should
110te for. It does not know, it cannot pOSSibly know
what government best cOlTesponds to the needs of so
ci alism at the particular moment. In the strikes of 1955
a.s 0 have seen, striking workers in the large scale in
custries formed their own organization' against both
employers and Communist leaders and yet, as far as
YC can gather, voted for the Communist Party in the
elections which followed. They doubtless had very good
reasons for doing so. In the face of this the violent
debates and conflicts in the small organiZations as to
whether it was correct Marxism to advocate the slogan
of "A government of Communists and Socialists" is seen
for the folly that it was. It does not matter.
THE UNITED STATES
In the United states voting for the Democratic
Party presents the dilemma of the Marxist organization
in a more serious form. The Democratic Party is a bour
gois party. The Marxist organization cannot under any
clrcumstances vote for an avowedly bourgeois party,
that is to say, take responsibility for it or imply that
by voting for it some fundamental social problem is
likely to be solved. If we remember that the paper
of the Marxist organization i based upon definite poli
tical priciples and aims at presenting the new s ociety,
there wlll be no doubt in the minds of its readers on
this. Its independent editorial committees, faithful con-
l
r
FACING REALITY
tributors to and supporters of the paper, are not given
to being disturbed by the fact that the editorial policy
of a paper differs from what they do or what they wish
to write in the paper. It has been noticed in many
countries that hundreds of thousands, even millions
of workers, read a particular paper every day for years
and never subscribe to its politics.
The paper of the Marxist organzation in the United
states has to record where the new society is and where
it is going. It will record that many millions of workers
are unelentingly depriving management of its functions
and frequently
-
di
scuss the advantages and disadvaI
tages of their taking over the plants. But it will record
also why so many of these workers continue to vote
for the Democratic Party. It will find various levels of
approach, from the utmost cynicism to a shrewd and
carefully calculated estimate of the advantages to be
gained along with an overall skepticism about the abil
ity or the will of either the Republican or the Demo
cratic Party to change the realities of life in the Unit
ed states.
There is absolutely no necessity on the part of the
paper of a Marxist organization to ca:ry on any pro
tracted debate with the correspondents of its paper as
to why it is unprincipled or unsocialistic or wrong for
them to vote for a bourgeois party like the Democratic
Party. Those voters who discipline manag"ement in the
plant and then vote for the Democ,ratic Party; the pa
per which holds a position of not voting for either of
the bourgeois parties ; these two together constitute
the new society in its various approaches. There is ab
solutely no reason why an independent editorial com
mittee should not, along with its other contributions,
st:te in the paper why it believes people should vote
for the Democratic Party. There is every reason why
it should. The small Marxist organizations must above
all maintain a sense of proportion, recognize that they
are not small editions of large political parties. They
must keep clearly in mind what is important to them
and what i not.
In the stage of political awareness i which we live
a group of workers can tell a conscious enemy of offi
cial society after the first sentence he utters, often be
fore he says a word. They do not object to association
and even close association with such people. They rec
ognize their value and go to great lengths (often too
great lengths) to give these people every opportunity to
convey to them what they know. What they object t. in
WHAT TO DO AND HOW TO DO IT 14
every country, and in the United! States in particular,
1s the ingrained habit of Marxists to approach them
with 8 set of principles and policies to which they are
' supposed to subscribe. They not only value the Marx
ist's knowledge and education. They respect his prin
ciples, weigh them and judge them and measure their
own against them. They hold the ideas in mind as an
" ideal construction. Today may not be the day, but
perhaps tomorrow will be. Meanwhile they are pre
pared to live and let live. That is the working class,
and its general attitude is infinitely superior to that of
the old Marxist organization. It is not deceived by
elections and keeps them in their place. The Marxist
organization will do well to follow suit. The decisive
step forward to be made here is that the paper becomes
the vehicle not for shouting at the workers what they
ought to do, but a means of communication of how
and why they vote ( or do not vote) .
II. THE NEGROES IN THE UNITED STATES
Undoubtedly there is opposition in politics and opin
ion between a Marxist organization and a body of con
tributors, readers, and supporters of the kind we en
visage. Every country has many national pOlitical issues
peculiar to it, some of them rooted deep in the national
historical development. As the nation grows to matur
ity, what ought to be done, what is right, becomes quite
clear, especially to a Marxist. How it ought to be done
or more precisely. how it will be done, is what the Marx
ist cannot possibly know. The evil, the peculiarity. is
and has been so much a part of the nation that even
among the progressive classes an abstract consciousness
of what is right is overshadowed and sometimes lost by
what, after many generations, seems to be part of the
natural order of things. Such a question above all ques
tions is the Negro question in the United States.
Marxism has a few triumphs and! many unpardona
ble blunders to its account on the Negro question in
the United States. This does not include the calculated
deceptions of the Communist Party which have nothing
to do with Marxism and everything to do with the
Kremlin line. But altogether apart from this the record
is one which should induce in the Marxist an attitude
of respect for the Neo people and their political ideas,
seasoned with a strong dose of humility. Great changes
in recent Aerican society, the greatest of which has
been the organization of the C.I.O., have been the mo
tive force creating new attitudes to race relations among
whites and Negroes alike. But it is the Negroes who
!0 FACING REALITY
ha,ve broken all precedents in the way they have used
the opportunities thus created. In the course of the
last twenty years they have formed the March on
Washington Committee which extorted Executive Order
8802 from the Roosevelt Government. This was the
order which gave Negroes an invaluable weapon in the
struggle to establish their right to a position in the
plants. Negro soldiers, in every area of war, and some
times on the battlefield itself, fought bloody engage
ments against white fellow soldiers, officers, generals,
and all, to establish their rights as equal American citi
zens. The Marxists had proved by analyses of texts- .
and of society that integration of white and Negro sol
diers in the armed forces was impossible except by the
revolution led by the trained vanguard. The Negroes
did not so much refuse to accept it as ignore it, and
that battle they won, not completely ( all bourgeois
rights are abstractions, never fully realized in practice) ,
but sufficiently to provide a basis for further struggle.
The Negroes in the North and W'est, by their cease
less agitation and their votes, are now a wedge j ammed
i n between the Northern Democrats and the Southern.
At any moment this wedge can split that party into two
and thereby compel the total reorganization of Amer
ican politics. They have cracked the alliance between the
right wing of the Republicans and the Southern wing
of the Democratic Party. By patient strategy and im
mense labor, they have taken the lead in the movement
which resulted in the declaration of the Supreme Cout
that racial segregation is illegal. Now the people of
Montgomery, by organizing a bus boycott which for B
year was maintained at a level of over 99 per cent, have
struck a resouncHng blow at racial discrimination all
over the United States and written a new chapter of
'orld-wide significance in the history of s t r u g g 1 e
against irrational prejudices. The full consequences
D this will be increasingly seen in the years to come,
and not only in the United States-people take tie
to digest such revolutionary action.
The American Negroes did not wait for the Van
guard Party to organize a corps of trained revolution
aries, including Negroes, to achieve their emancipation.
They have gone their own way, and in intellectual mat
ters (for example, the study of Negro History) 8 well
as in practical, they have in the past twenty-five years
created a body of political achiev,ement, both in stri
ing at discrimination and influencing American civili
zation as a whole, which makes them one of the au-
WHAT TO DO AND HOW TO DO I II
thentic outposts of the new society. Perhaps the most
' striking example of this are the Negro workers in in
dustrial plants. Sensitized by their whole lives against
racial discrimination, and having to be alert in the
plant to prevent themselves being discriminated against,
they begin by being a militant formation to protect
themselves. They soon end by being in the very fore-
' :front of all actions against management. Many Marxists
enjoy themselves analyzing the Negro bourgeoisi and
the Negro petty-bourgeoisie and its reactionary char
acteristics. The procedure is without s-eIEe, being de
rived from books. The American bourgeoisie will reap
the full reward for its centuries of exclusion of the Ne
gro people from official soctety. Invitations to the White
House and spectacular appointments here and there
will not alter the results of the centuries of Negro seg
regation, persecution, and humiliation. When the Ne
[lO masses move, out of the White House, the State
Department, the Embassy in Liberia, or wherever they
may be, the Negro middle classes will come running
behind them.
Yet the fact remains that the Negro question in the
United States is a complex of enormous difficulties with
tl'lupS and pitfalls on every side. For the purpose of il
lustrating the lines along which the paper of the Marxist
organization has to face its tasks (that is all we can
do) , we select two important issues, confined to rela
tions among white and Negro 'orkers, the largest sec
tions of the population affected
.
1) Many white workers who collaborate in the most
democratic fashion in the plants continue to show
strong prejudice against association with Negroes out
side the plant.
2) Many Negroes make race relations a test of all
other relations. Thus in politics they vote always for
the party which i their view offers the best opportun
itv of winning some new position for Negroes ; in the
plant they face white fellow workers with issues, not
strictly industrial, which force the white worker to de
clare himself on the racial question; and, most impor
tant for our purposes, i relation to Marxist organiza
tions, they judge them by a j ealous and often delibe
rately critical attitude to their position on Negro issues.
In the face of this ( and more) the Marxist organi
zation' have failed monumentallY. The abstractness,
the fear of offending one race "nd then the other, the
enunciation of high principles, the opportunism, the
152 FACING REALITY
eapitulation to the prejudices of official society and to
the prejudices of particular workers or groups of work
ers, the blunders, stupidities, and confusion the Marxist
organizations have been guilty of on this question are
by themselves sufficient to condemn them on all other
questions. In the United states who fails on the Negro
question is weak on all. "Black and White, Unite and
Fight" is unimpeachable in principle and undoubtedly
has an excellent sound. But it is often misleading and
sometimes even offensive in the face of the infinitely
varied, tumultuous, passionate, and often murderous
reality of race relations in the United states.
What then is the paper of the Marxist organization
to do? We shall list a series of statements. They can
not be argued here but, taken together, they give the
orientation by means of which the Marxist organization
can drag itself out of the mess and avoid the disasters
which have beset the path of every such organization
on this inescapable question in the United states.
1) Negro aggressiveness on the race question has
every right in the paper, more right than any other
pcint of view on the race question. I is here that the
Marxist organization has to show firmness, not in de
fense of its own abstract principles, but in its determi
nation that the Negro worker shall say what he wants
to say and how he wants to say it. This alone will make
a paper in the United states unique.
2) The chief arguments against this policy are a)
that it will alienate white workers who are the majority
of the American workers ; b) that it will encourage
Negro nationalism and even chauvinism. Both argu
ments are at the very best abstract and reactionary.
i) We are dealing here with a paper, a concrete
paper of so many pages, appearing periodically,
recording the new society. Inside such a paper
Negro aggressiveness takes its proper place as
one of the forces helping to create the new so
ciety. If a white worker or group of white
workers after reading and contributing to the
paper as a whole finds that articles or letters
expressing Negro aggressiveness on racial ques
tions make the whole paper offensive to him,
that means that it is he who is putting hi' pre
judices on the race question before the inter
ests of the class 8 a whole. He must be ra
soned with, argued with, and if necessary fought
t a finish.
i
I
WHAT TO DO AND HOW TO DO IT \3
ii) How is he to be reasoned with, argued with, and
if necessary fought to a finish?
First by making it clear that his ideas, his rea
sons, his fears, his prejudices also have every
right in the paper. Every white worker who is in
daily contact with Negroes knows of their ag
gressiveness on the race question. It is no se
cret to him. Further, apart from the fundamen
tal conflict with management, few questions oc
cupy him so much. Whether he speaks about it
or not, it is a hard knot in his consciousness,
as it is in the consciousness of every American
today, a growing torment which the American
cannot rid himself of. A frank and free discus
sion in public of the various difficulties as they
arise is the surest way to prepare for that clos
er unity which comes from common participa
tion in great actions.
iiD We have said little about the actual editorial
functions of the paper of a small organization.
This is no place to do so. The answer in any
case lies in trial and error. W' e rest on the as
sumption that merely to attempt to prodUce 8
paper of this kind demands a very high degree
of political consciousness. The paper recognizes
and records. But like every paper it has its posi
tive functions. This is one case in which it
enters firmly into the discussion, pointing out
that Negro aggressiveness on the ra!ial ques
tion is one of the most powerful forces making
for the new society as a whole in the United
states, not merely on race relations. We have
listed some of them abo,ve. Here is another. It
is the Negro people and Negro workers in par
ticular who have brought home to white work
ers the importance of the colonia 1 question. in
Africa, but also in the Far East.
iv) The paper lhould actively campaign for Ne
groes in the South to struggle for their right
to vote and actually to vote. Where the rulers
of society for generations have used every de
vice to debar Negroes from voting, then it is a
Marxist duty to encourage them in every way
to win and to exercise that right. If Negroes
outside of the South vote, now for the Demo
cratic Party and now for the Rpublican, they
have excellent reasons for doing so, and their
l4 FACING REALITY
general activity shows that large numbers of
them see votin and the struggle for Supreme
Court decisions merely as one aspect of a t
tality. They have no illusions. The Marxist or
ganization retains and expresses its own view.
But it understands that it is far more impor
tant, within the context of its own political
principles, of which the paper taken as a whole
is an expression, within the context of its own
publications, meetings, and other activities in
its ow name, within the context of its trans
lations and publications of the great revolt=
tionary classics and other literature, that the
Negroes make public their own attitudes and
reasons for their vote.
Such in general is the function of the paper of a
Marxist organzation in the United States on the Negro
question. It will educate, and it will educate above al
white workers in their understanding of the Negro
question and into a realization of their own respnsi
bilities in ridding American society of the cancer of
racial discrimination and racial consciousness. The
Marxist organization will have to fight for its own posi
tion, but its position will not be wearisome repetition
of "Black and White, Unite and Fight." It will b U
resolute determination to bring all aspects of the ques
tion into the open, within the context of the recognition
that the new society exists and that it carries within
it elf much of the sores and diseases of the old. On
tr.s, B on many similar questions in other countries,
the Marxist organization may have to carry on what
for long periods may seem a losing battle. It will have
to stand firm. The working class fights out its battles
within itself and arrives at greater understanding by
stages. But whatever its difficulties, if the paper and
the organization are expressing the new society 8 B
whole, the violent passions of the Negro question can
never overwhelm it.
III. THE HUNGARIAN REVOLUTION AND THE PAPER
It will be seen already that the simplicity of the
formula that we have to recognize and to record is pro
foundly deceptive. So far no group or individual has
recognized and recorded the decrees, political state
ments, and other publications of the Hungarian Work
ers Councils, in order and separated from everything else.
Thus the most authentic, the most complete, and the
most concrete body of socialist theory and practice in
WHAT TO DO AND HOW TO DO IT I5
existence is not available to stUdents of Marxism and
workers alike. To be able to recognize and to record can
result onl

from a political revolution in the theory
and practIce of the Marxist organization.
This is most needed where the Marxist organization
tins it is strongest and on safe ground-the revolu
tlon Itself. The Hungarian Revolution seems easy enough
o record. We have shown that this is not so-the most
Import

nt thing about it is as yet unreco:ded. But

recogmtion and recording involves careful consideration
of the aUdience. Independent editorial committees in
France, Britain, and the United states cannot

recor

the Hungarian Revolution. This is one of the functions

which rest squarely on the intellectuals and advanced
workers of the Marxist organization. But this is the
lesser half.
FRANCE
The
.
Hungarian Revolution i France meant above
everythmg else a new stage in the attitude of the great
body of French workers to the French Communist Par
ty. For many it meant the final disillusionment with
the Communist Party. To take one key center - the
great Renault factory. Within the General Confedera
ton
.
of Labor unit in Renault, a minority which was
lghtmg
.
t?e Communists for control has been spuled
mto actiVIty and won a certain consideration from the
mass of the workers. The Communists themselves in
the hopeless position of having to defend the masscre
of the workers in Hungary, relaxed their grip in order
that their followers may more easily retain contact
with the mass.
But the great mass of the workers, in particular
the younger generation, pay less and less attention to
these two groups of leaders competing for control of the
Uion. To them the Stalinist-anti-Stalinist issue has be
come a scholastic one. They now have to find their ow
way. They are French workers, with a long revolution
ary tradition and an instinct for revolutionary politics
and revolutionary theory, so much of which has orig
inated from thei own past history.
At the same time groups of Fr.ench intellectuals,
some of them many hundreds in number, have joined
together for the study of the history of Workers Coun
cils, of the colonial question, the role of the state i
the revolution, the role of the intellectuals in the
revolution, and so on and so forth.
We do not propose here to say what must be the
IU
FACIG REALITY
form and content of the paper of a Marxist org
.
aa
tion in France. But it i clear that if th orgarzatlOn
involves itself in the theoretical discuSSlOns f revo
lution which have flourished among !nch
.
mtelle
tuals for so many years, it will be undIstlngUlshable m
the eyes of the workers and the people in genera from
what is going on all around them. It does ??t m tIe
least matter what are the differences of plItIcal POSl
tion it developS; it will still be part and parcel of
that arena from which the mass of the workers i
.
Renault have already turned aside.
The French workers, since the HUngaran Revolu
tion have gone a long way towards graspmg the fact
that there is no longer any difference betwee? revolu
tionary theory and practice. Only a p
.
aper WhICh howS
by its very form that it has tured Its back
.
on mte
minable theoretical discussions about revolutIOn and
actually practicing its theory, drawing its theory fro
the activity of the workers in their shop floor orgaDl
zations, and addressing its theory directly to them, only
such a pa,per will mean anything to the French work
ers In this the actual relations between the Commu
nist Party in Hungary and Poland and the workers of
those countries will play a central part.
Much preliminary work and actual efforts have been
carried out. All that remams now is to take the steP.
And nothing but a paper boldly based on
.
and ad?essing
itself to the workers will pull the reolutInary mtellec
tuals away from thei theoretical dISCUSSIons and pre
occupations with how to convert the Communist Pary
( or its left-wing) to Marxism. The French workers Wl
move, and when they do, will leave the commust
.
Par
ty hanging in the air. But whatever the future, It IS the
attitude not of the French intellectual but f the French
workers to the Communist Party WhICh WIll determiIe
the future of French politics, and it is therefore thIS
which will determine the form and content of the paper
of a Marxist organization.
BRITAI
. B t There
Profoundly different is the situation m I am.
the Hungarian Revolution was taken over by the bou
geoisie and transformed into a refugee ory. The con
fusion in the small and negligible CommunIst Party
derided in the Press. The labor leaders excelled
.
them
selves in high-souding phrases
.
about the hrOlsm of
the Hungarian workers and the VIrtues f SOCIal-Demo
cracy a' opposed to Communism. The mtellectuals re-
V!I^J TO DO AND HOW TO DO IT 157
j oiced at the proof tha,t the totalitarian state could not
mould a nation to its will. There, theoretically, they
stopped. So deeply imbedded is the Welfare State men
tality that the British socialist movement r a p i d I Y
plunged back into its preoccupation with elections, na
tionalization and denationalization, coexistence with
Russia, etc., etc.
As far as it had been possible to inquire and esti
mate the British workers reacted quite differently.
There was a widespread acceptance of the fact that the
_ next stage for locialism is 8 Government of Workers
Councils. With them it is not a theOTetlcal question at
-
.
all. They have behind them over twenty years of the
uninterrupted growth and expansion of the Shop Stew
ards Movement, in one form or another, in every impor
tant branch of industry
.
The divorce between their
thinkig and the thinking of their leaders on the Hu
garian Revolution is complete.
It is obvious therefore that the task of the paper
of the Marxist organization in Britain will be immensely
different from that in France. Britain is the original
home of the organized shop floor organization in times
of social peace-some such social formation. always ap
pears in times of revolution. To the British workers the
Government of Workers Councils is merely the final
step in a long development which they themelves more
than any other body of workers have lived through. But
these ideas find no expression whatever in any section
of the capitalist or labor Press. Like the Central Com
mittee of the Textile Machine Industry's shop stewards
they ha.ve no official existence. In Britain today the
revolutionary tradition receives no concrete expression.
particularly because since 1945 the British bourgeOisie
i' in retreat and goes to unbelievable lengths to avert
any direct clash with the working class
.
But the form
taken by the Hugarian Revolution and its close rela
tion with the shop steward form, and the silence of all
comentators on this, creates a situation where the field
is wide open for the specific function of the Marxist
organization.
3 UITED STATES
The effects of the Hungarian Revolution on the
working class in the United States could not possibly
have been anticipated by any Marxist, showing the dif
ficulties which lie behind the phrase: recognizing and
recording. The decisive feature of the Hungarian Revo
lution wa the creation of the Workers Councils and
. !
' I
TbU FACING REALITY
their assumption of all the functions of government.
This seemed to be the least of the concerns of American
workers. The American working people of all classel re
acted with an almost universal disillusionment with the
American Government and distrust of its foreign policy.
After all the billions of dollars for foreign aid, foreign
alliances, and the millions of words about the power of
Russia and the need to contain Russia, the impotence
or unwillingnes- of the United states to do anything to
help Hun!ary wrecked any confidence the workers may
... . have had in what the government was doig abroad.
American workers of Polish and other Eastern Euro"
pean origin saw the revolt in national terms, as freedom
from the foreign enemy.
The reaction of the Negro workers was distinctive.
In September 1 955 a Negro youth from Chicago, Emmett
Till, was murdered in the southern state of Mississippi
in a manner that shocked the whole of the United
Statel. But the muderers, known to all in the country,
were found "not guilty" as usual by the white jury.
From that time there has been taking place an emi
gration of Negroes from the state to the industrial
North and Middle West at the rate of many thousands
a month, one estimate going as high as 30, 000 in cer
tain months. These tens of thousands of Negroes find
that, despite all the talk of the fabulous prosperity of
the United States, continuous unemployment exists and
has existed for years in towns like Detroit, Pittsburgh,
and Cleveland. When faced with the prospect of thous
ands of Hungarian refugees being welcomed in the
United States, the Negro workers raised the bitter C].
What about the refugees from the South? Not ony
was the que-tion legitimate. It had behind it memories
centuries old, not the least of which was the welcome
during and after the war of German prisoners of war
into public places from which Negroes continued to be
excluded.
Amid this variety of responses, the question of the
Workers Councils received little attention from the
workers and it proved almost impossible to make them
see it for what it was and to understand why Marxists
attached so much importance to it. American workers
bave no fear whatever of totalitarianism. They are
cheerfully confident that they can take care of any who
try to impose upon them a totalitarian regime and no
one who knows them has any doubt of this.
The above are of necessity apprOXimations, but they
represent a reasonably accurate picture of what faced
WHAT TO DO AN HOW TO DO IT 19
the axst organizations in their attempt to convey
. the slgmflCance of the Hungarian Revolution to Ameri
can workers. To complete the confusion it was the
bourgeois Prels which seemed to be preoccupied with
the Workers Councils.
THE PAPER AND THE ORGANIZATION
Our sumation has to be, and has no need to be
oth
.
erwise than brief. The paper of the Marxist organi
za bon has to recognize ad record. It had to recognize
and record the Hungarian Revolution. But it had also
to recognize and record, and record very fully, the 1e-
sponses of the American workers in their editorial
committees. It had to gO further. Its primary business
was to bring out into the open what the American
workers were thinkig, in their own terms. That is what
it has to grapple with, the concrete realities before it
to see that each side, the paper and the people:
thoroughly understands the position of the other. That
itself is progress, progress for the readers of the paper
and progress for the Marxists. It is difficult, but it is
impossible only if the Marxist organization persists in
screaming its own views at its public, and considers
them backward because they do not accept them. It is
perhaps not going too far to say that a) the paper of a
Marxilt organization would give as much space to
the reactions of workers as it would to the Revolution
ittelf; b) the presentation of the Hungarian Revolution
would differ widely from country to country.
After some years of screaming, the voice of the Marx
ist organization gets hoarse, its members diminish and
those who remain sink into self-examination. Their
fatigue is not physical. It is a political inertia. Contra
diction, even antagonism, is the source of all life and
movement. It is from the confrontation of fundamental
ideas with the reactions of workers that new ideas
emerge and new energy is created, in the small organi
zation and in the workers themselves. This is one of the
most fundamental processes of cognition.
What happens to the Marxist organization, intent
only on recruits for the revolution, is that the refu
sal of workers to accept its ideas, their OPPOSition, their
hesitation, or their questions, paralyzes it. It stands im
mobilized, not knowing which way to tur. Often it has
made great efforts to reach the workers. But the
deeper it has come into contact with them, the more
baffled it has become. When an event like the Hunga
rian Revolution takes place, every meeting with work-
IU0 FACING REALIT
-:. =:- ..- ::.-..., ::-.. .=. ::-a,::. .. . ,:-.:
-t:-::+:--:a,.:.:.-.:r.:-=..--:,-..,.c-.:.-:=..
a.a.::, --.:..-a :- .a-..--a =-..-:. -: =-.--. ,.a
=-.- .. ::- ,.---.. -: .a-..-..,. v-a --.:a-a :-
=..:-.-a .,-..-.- -: r-..::-=.,,-a .r

.,. :.a.
r.,-:.-.--:...:-=...a=.:r.:-=::

.:..a-

-.a
.: -a.:-...: --.::-- -.-.:-. .. -.:..-:,

.-
-
..:a.
:.-.

r: .. ,.-,..-a :- .,-.. ..a :

-
atr..l :. -=.
..a t--...-.:.. .=.:- ::.:=:.:.: .-.,, .-,.-
.-.:. ::-.,...-. -:.., ::-a...a. -: -::-:.

+. ,at:..:..a-: ,.,-:..

- -a::..-

-,.-a.,

t...a-. a--,::--:-:.-.ra.a-:....a, :--:-.r .

r-a,- , -a...:..:.- ...:r . .-..- -:

-.ra-. ::--.t.r.:,
.-a:...-..,--t..-a :. ..-.--,:.
.

r -,:-

. s--
-: ::-.--..:- .---.:-.:t- .:aa.-a..-:.:.
. ta:
:-a., :.-.- :a:: .,,:.-.:.-. ..a a---r.,-.: -.

-,
t-.-:.---a..=:.:=-:.--.:-=..:-::-

-..:.,.
-.:.-..--.:...-a..::-:-:ar..:-:---,

:-::---..
:-.-- .-a .---:a ::- :.-:. -: ::-.-= .
-.-:,
CONCLUSION

:-v.:...:-.,...:.:.-.-:,...:-..:.-r::-,.-a.--8
,.,-:=:.-:=.r::---,..:-::--...:-.---:::-.-=.-
-.-:, ..a :---:a ::- r.-:. -r .:. -...:-.--

w- :.--
-a:r..-a::-,:.-:.-.r-::.a =.::=:.-: ::..a.:--
.,,:-.-:-a i: .. .-:---.,::..,.ta: .: .. -.-a,:.r-:
a...=, . --.-ra..-.. -...--::.. ..,r- .r:.:.:.--
.r :---,..:.., ..a :--.-a..,. .. ::- r.,:: -:v......
.- .. :. ,r.-- ::- ,.,-: :..:.:.-.rr,. w- a.: ..-=
=:.: =- :-,:-.-.:, =:.: =- .,t-r.:-. r:- v:-.. i
-::-: =-:a., -... -r --.-.:.-., .. . ,.a,- ..a
:-a-:.:-.- -r ::--::a,,r- r-:.--..r...
i-... --.:-:-a:...::a,,r-r-:::-na..... n-.-ra
:.-..:-a.a::- v--.. r:-v:-..=.. :-t- ::-.:,..
i.-: -r::- :--.ra:....:, ,-.,r- .:-a.a:r--r.:- ,.::,
n--.a.- +..:.. .a,,:-..-a .rr ,-r.:.-.r r.r-. ::- n.r
.:--.. v:-.. =.. -..-.:..rr, ,-r.:.-.r, ::-a,: ,-r.:.-.r
.. ::- =.a-.: .-..- -r ::.: =-:a. t: -.,..,.-a :-:
r..a:.::-,-....:..::--.,:::-a.a.,r-:::-=-:.-:.
..ar-::t-a---:.:.-:-,atr.-.w:-.::-.---.ana.
...-n---ra:.-. t:-.- .a:. a.=----, ::- ,--,r-:. :.-
..:-...:-.:-r::-=:-r--:ra, -:-.:-a::-s--.-:. .
t-a, t..-a -. r.-:-:.-., ,-....:...a--ra.-:.-a: -.
.-.:..rr, ,.r.:.-.r.
w:-. ::- na..... n--.ra:.-. a--r..-a ..a s:.r.-
.. :-.,.-a .. na.... ..a .. ::- c-a...: v.::.-.
---:,=:-:-, r:-:..,. i-.... -r-.- -.rr.t-:.:-:. .:
:-,:-a :.:-ta.ra .. .:-:..:.-..r ----.: -r ::-
i-.....::,,-. n-r..r-ar-: -.- --..-.-.r,. ::-=-:.
-:..r::-.:ra.-r..,-::--a--..,a.:a.:-r.:-,.:
:.-.. v-: a-.,.:-:.. .-:.-a. -u-- .. .::-,:.., :.:-
,:-aa-- ::- ,-r.:.-. .a.:.tr- :. -.- ,-:..a .. ..-::-:,
r-:.., :.aB r.: t-::-: a.a-:.:..a.., ::.. :.. ..
,a.a-ar-rt.=-:. -r ::- ,:.--.,r-. :.-: .:-ara,---:.
.=.:.-:.,.,-: c:.:.-.:..,::-=--.r,,.,-:-r.rr::-

:-:..,..: .:,...:.:.-.., :- -:-:- -:a. :.-: .:- -r

:r-a:-.:-.ra-:-a.,.n-...a.

:- ,.,-: .. --:, --rr a-.- r:- ::- -a:..r..:.-

,-..:.r-.-=,ta:.:.-.,.,-:r-:--:.-:...:-:
.=-:.-:. ,.,-:& Q
z. .: .., ::- ,.,-:.. a.-.a-a .-., -.:.-a. =:.:
II
Ib2
FACING REALITY
ers, each of whom is very good, but collectively
they do not permit the workers to penetrate to the
pages of the Appeal. Each of them speaks for the
workers ( and speaks very welD but nobody wl
hear the workers. In spite of its literary brilliance,
to a certain degree the paper becomes a victim of
journalistic routine. You do not hear at all how the
workers live, fight, clash with the police or drink
whiskey. It is very dangerous for the paper B a
revolutionary instrument of the party. The task i
not to make a paper through the joint forces Q! a .
skilled editorial board but to encourage the work
ers to speak for themselves.
A radical and courageous change is necessary as a
condition of success @ 4
Of course it is not only B question of the paper, but
of the whole course of policy .
The difference is summed up in two conceptions: 8
paper for the workers or a workers' paper. But the for
mula itself, though it clarifies, does not solve. One has
to define the term: workers, and to define workers in
the sense of theory as a guide to action require' a defi
nition of society and its direction. That is why we
began with the Hungarian Revolution. To the end of
his life Trotsky thought about workers in terms of the
stage of society in 1917. He could not grasp that the
development of capitalism ito state capitalism and
the corresponding development in the working class had
created an entirely new category of workers. The1e did
not wish to substitute for a totalitarian party or Welfare
state party a democratic party. Tey sought to substi
tute themselves as a body for all parties whatsoever.
That is the history of mass movements from 1933 on
wards. To his dying day Trotsky believed that worker'
had to be led by the politically advanced. As late as
1937 he could write:
I have remarked hundreds of times that the worker
who remains unnoticed i the "normal" conditions
of party life reveals remarkable qualities in a
change of situation when general formuas and flu
ent pens are not sufficient, where acquaintance
with the life of workers and practical capacities are
necessary. Under such conditioI a gifted worker
reveals a sureness of himself and reveals also his.
general political capabilities.
Predominance in the organization of intellectuals
CONCLUSION
03
is inevitable in the first period of the development
of the organization. I is at the same time a big
handicap to the political education of the more
gifted workers . . . It is absolutely necessary at the
next convention to introduce in the local and cen
tral committees as many workers as pOSsible. To a
worker, activity in the leading party body is at the
same time a high political school . 4
He was always looking for workers to tl'ain them
for the revolution. He wrote again:
We canot devote enough or equal forces to all the
factories. Our local organization can choose for its
activity in the next period one, two or. three fac
tories in it' area and concentrate all its forces upon
these factories. If we have in one of them two or
three workers we can create a special help commis
sion of five non-workers with the purpose of en
larging our influence i these factories.
He had been brought up in the tradition of seeking
influence for the elite party in the factories and he nev
er got rid of it. The modern worker does not wish any
body or any party to have inflUence in the factories.
He can manage his own affairs in the factories. He has
had enough of these seekers of inflUence. One of the
first things that the Hungarian Workers Councils de
creed was that all political parties as such should be
excluded from the factories. When the great upheaval
came, they did not form Soviets for politics and factory
committees for industry as the Russian workers had
done in faraway 1917. The Workers Council was produc
tion unit, political unit, military unit, and governing
unit, all in one. Trotsky's idea of the silent worker in a
political committee of an elite organization coming to
life only when something practical had to be done is as
ancient a figure as a knight i armor. And the modern
worker does not find himself in a workers' paper because
the Marxists do not know that he exists and are not
looking for him.
Thus the paper as we envisage it is what a Marxist
paper always should be, a workers' paper and not a pa
per for the worker. But workers change and papers
must change. They must perform functions that are
not being performed by any other force or group in so
ciety. That is the guarantee of their success.
Every international organization of the proletariat
( and of the bourgeoisie as well) is the resut not of what
takes place in the minds of political people, but of
J0^ FACING REALITY
changes in the very structure of society. That is why
the revolutionary paper of today does not have to preach
and advocate revolution in the terms of barricades, cap
ture of government buildings, etc. In 1917 this was the
necessary first step, the struggle for socialism coming
afterwards. Today the process is completely reversed.
All the problems, particularly in production, that Lenin
faced after the seizure of power are now being vigorous
ly foug'ht out in every developed country before the seiz
ure of power. Workers today are building the socialist
. .. .
.
society, often uder' the commonplace :ame of "local
.
.
grievances." They are struggling to make the place of
work a human habitation where the first consideration
is not capital but men, men not as units of production
but as human beings. This conception is the beginning
(and very nearly the end) of socialism.
That in many, or at least a few, of these countries
the new society will come fully into existence only af
ter the violent destruction of the remnants of the old,
remains 8 true today as it has always been. But that
in 1958 does not occupy the place in the Marxist Press
that it did in 1917. After two world wars, the Russian
Revolution, the Great Depression, Fascism, an the
Chinese Revolution, the violent seizure of power 1S not
the main preoccupation of workers and peoples. They
play the parliamentary political game for what they
can get out of it. But they know that when the moment
comes they can overthrow any power, government or
otherwise which seeks to enslave them.
The ral problem of the mass of people today is not
the overthrow of the old order (who any more believes
in it?) . It is the fear of what will happen afterwards,
whether the inevitable result will be the One-Party
totalitarian state. It is not merely that the people of
the West see the bureaucratic monster behind the Iron
Curtain. They see all the premises of it at home, and
that is why workers in all countries steadily lay the
foundation of all possible safeguards against it, in their
shop floor organizations, in their reaching out to the
technicians and the clerical and professional middle
classes in their contempt for the traditional parties and
unions
'
whose meetings they don't attend. There is i
action in the world today, on a world-wide scale, a revo
lutionary mobilization far more formidable than any
thing Lenin ever knew. The people are moving forward,
and as they move forward are consolidatig their posi
tions. Because this vast revolution does not take
,
the
traditional form, it goes almost entirely unrecogmzed
CONCLUSION
165
and therefore unrecorded. Fascism saw it and tried to
destroy it but only succeeded in bringing it nearer
Periodial1Y the secret terror and impotent des;air
of the rulmg classes breaks out as in de-Stalinization
the Eden expedition to Suez, and the frenzied efforts t
make the world believe that some attempt is beina
made to rid humanity of the physical and spiritual bu
den of modern armaments. Always the result is to leave
the situation worse than it was before. When in this
or that country the people feel that the moment has
c
.
ome, hey will act. The paper of the Marxist organiza
tIOn wlll do well, here a elsewhere, to be instructed by .
. the people.
What the people need is information of where they
are, what they are dOing, what they have done in the
past. They are the ones to say precisely what they want
and when. I the past the intellectuals served the bour
geoisie. When they saw the decline of bourgeois society
bey
.
thought it was their turn to lead the people. These
lllusIOns we must strip off and cast behind U. Even in
the fully-established socialist society, those with intel
lectul gifts and iClinations have an indispensable
fuctIOn to perform, to master the material in any given
oclal sphere and so present it to the people that it
eas: for them to decide what they want to do.. In
formatIon: that is what the people want, information
about themselves and their own affairs, and not so much
about the crimes and blunders of official society; no
one has to look too far for those any more. As far as
cn be seen at the present, this is the ultimate func
tIOn of government in the modern world. But that in
the Marxist phrase, is the music of the future.
'
What, it may legitimately be asked, is the future
o the Marxist organization? Its future is 10 more pre
dICtable than the future of society itself. Despite the
nachronism of the traditional workers' party, it is not
O the least excluded, for example, that the first great
upheaval in the United states may take the form of B
many-millioned mass workers' party aiming at political
power in the traditional sense, while at the same time
Workers Councils appear in every branch of the na
tional life. A direct revolutionary seizure of power or
cIvil war may break out i France, provoked by the
French bourgeOisie in the same trapped, desperate mood
that provoked the Suez adventure. Such events have
been and always will be utterly unpredictable. But de
spite the unpredictable and innumerable variety of
forms of development that the Marxist organizations
JM
FACIG REALITY
and their papers may take, those will" be closest to
these events and will best serve them who have trained
themselves to recognize ihat the new society exists and
to record the facts of its existence.
APPENDIX
The ideas and perspectives in Facing Reality are the
-result of 17 years of theoretical study, cooperative ef
fort, and an intensive political experience inside and
outside of small political organizations. We can only
indicate here some of the landmarks in that develop
ment. Some of the material, particularly that written - - -
before 1947, appeared only in mimeographed form and
Is not readily available. The most complete file OI ma
terial can be found in Socialisme ou Barbarie, a French
quarterly published in Paris since 1948.
The editors of Socialisme ou Barbarie, a group of 8
few dozen intellectuals and workers, have governed
all their activities by the conception that the main
enemy of society today is the bureaucracies of modern
capitalism. Since 1948 they have documented and
analyzed each stage of the workers' struggle against
the bureaucracy. No. 13, the issue of January-March
1954, is devoted to an analysis of the East German Re
volt of June 1953 and a detailed account of the French
strikes which erupted in August 1953 among the POI-
tal workers, the railroad workers, the Renault auto
workers, and the insurance office workers. The editors
show how these two explosions marked the first turning
point in the post-war relations between the workers
and their oppressors.
No. 18, the issue of January-March 1956, .s devoted
to an account and analysis of the world-wide workers'
struggle in 1955, of the French workers in Nantes and
st. Nazaire, the British dockers, and the American
auto workers. As the editors pointed out, these strug
gles showed that the workers were acting not only in
dependently but in defiance of the union apparatus.
The article, "The Workers Confront the Bureaucracy, "
in this issue reads like a preview of Poznan.
Believing that the content of socialism is in what
workers are already trying to work out in their daily
struggles, the intellectuals of the Socialisme ou Barbarie
group have encouraged and assisted the workers in the
group to report every detail of their lives in the plant.
Notabl- among the articles by workers published in the
I?
168 FACING REALITY
magazine are "Workers Journal (May 1956 at Renault,")
an account of the incipient revolt at Renault over the
call-up of a worker for the Algerian war and the block
ing of the revolt by the union; "An Experience of
Workers' Organization: The Employees Council at the
General Life Insurance Co.," a detailed account of
work in a modern office and how this led to indepen
dent organization by the workers; "Renault Workers
Discuss Hungary, " "The Factory and Workers' Man
agement," an account by a Renault worker of how
workers in a particular department organize their work
independently of both management and the union;
and "Agitation at Renault," an account of the present
indifference among the Renault workers to the Stalin
ist-anti-Stalinist agitation of both the Communists and
the Social-Democrats.
The magazine has also carried reports of the life
and activities of workers in other countries. 1 1948-49
a complete translation of The American Worker ap
peared in its pages. One of its writers has reported
fully on the relations between East German workers
and the Communists in the plants after the war.
Socialisme ou Barbarie has published one pamphlet,
a pamphlet on the Hungarian Revolution which was
published immediately after the outbreak of the revo,
lution, addressing questions to Communist militants
about the revolution.
Another series of publications is the work of the
Johnson-Forest Tendency which developed as a body
of ideas inside the American Trotskyist organizations.
The supporters of this Tendency have since broken
completely with Trotskyism and the Leninist theory of
the party and the Tendency no longer exists. The actual
account and analysis of their lives in the TrotskYist
organizations and why they turned their backs on this
kind of political life are contained in two documents,
The Balance Sheet, written in 1947, and The Balance
Sheet Completed, written in 1951.
From the moment that the supporters of the John
son-Forest Tendency broke with Trotsky's theory of
Russia as a workers' state, they realized that their
break was not only with a political position but with a
method of thought. Hence they set themselves to re
discover for this epoch what Marx had meant by capi
talism and socialism and the philosophy of history
which had guided his economic writings. By a close
study of the Hegelian dialectic and of Marx's writigs,
they were able to grasp and hold tight the essence of
APPENDIX I9
l
Marx, namely, his realization that side by side with
the fragmentation and mutilation of the workers i
the capitalist labor process, there is emerging inside
the factory a new form of social organization, the co
operative form of labor.
I 1947 they translated and published the Economic
Philosophical Essays oj Marx which he had written in
1844. 1 this same year they published Dialectical Ma
terialism and the Fate oj Humanity, an essay showing
how the creative reason of the masses in revolution has
produced all the great advances of civilization. In 1948
Notes on the Dialectic was written, an analysis of the
development of the labor movement, applying the cate
gories and method of Hegel's dialectical logic.
Three works exemplify their approach to the Rus
sian question. "After Ten Years" is a re-examination in
1946 of Trotsky's The Revolution Betrayed in the light
of Marx's philosophy of the activity of men in the la
bor process. "'he Nature of the Russian Economy,"
also written in 1946 on the basis of an exhaustive
analysis of all available data on the Russian 5-year
Plans, shows how the contradictions of capitalism are
inherent in the Russian economy as they are in the
American economy or that of any other classic capi
talist country. The Invading Socialist Society, published
in 1947, is an analysis of the mass movement towards
new forms of social organization all over the world,
and in particuar, the European movemelt towards
Socialist United States of Europe. Today the chapter
on "Poland-Where All Roads Meet" is of special value.
The theoretical summation of the work of the
Johnson-Forest Tendency is to be found in State Capi
talism and World Revolution, originally written in 195.0
and reprinted in 1956 under the auspices of six Euro
peans representing three different countries. Originally
written as a contribution to the discussion in the Trot
skyst movement, State Capitalism and World Revolu
tion has not made the complete break with the Leninist
conception of the vanguard party. Today we recom
mend particularly the section on philosophy to the
general reader. I this section the philosophy of ra
tionalism is traced from its revolutionary beginnings
in the 16th century to its present counter-revolutionary
form in the party of the elite, the administrators, the
organizers, and the bureaucrats.
The introduction t the 1956 edition of State Capi
talism and World Revolution ended as follows:
F
I

l?D FACING REALlTY

When the document was written six years ago, all
this was mere theoretical prognosis. It is printed
now with the more confidence as a guide t the
great events ahead.
It is not the debates on free speech behind the
Iron Curtain which will be decisive in the libera
tion of these oppressed peoples. It is what took
place at Poznan. Like the Berlin rising i J:e,
1953, it came directly from the shop orgamzatlOns
of the workers. The ultimate aim in Coventry, Ber- .
lin, Detroit and Poznan is not liberal free speeCA _
nor higher wages, "compensation" nor "consulta
tion," but the construction of a new society from
the bottom up.
While the new edition was still at the printers, the
Hungarian Revolution broke out and on the cover the
following was added:
Hungary is merely the beginning. All political par
ties, including Stalinists and Trotskyists, and in
tellectuals of the right and left, for years preached
and acted on the theory that the moder totali
tarian state by its combination of terror and in
doctrination could mould any population to its will.
Now the revolution in Hungary has blasted all
these cowardly and defeatist illusions, and the most
indoctrinated and the most terrorized have accom
plished the greatest proletarian revolution in his
tory.
Marxism alone can explain these events. State
Capitalism and World Revolution is published to
day exactly as it was written in 1950. I alone, by
its analysis of modern production and political re
lations, foretold with precision and confidence the
violent explosions immanent in all forms of the con
temporary state, whether totalitarian or democrat
ic. In its detailed exposure of the fallacies of the
"Vanguard Party" and "The Plan" it is the only
political analysis in English which outlines the
future of scientific socialism.
The body of ideas in Facing Reality has been devel
oped in the closest relation to what workers
.
are dOiDg
in the plant, listening to them and sponsormg ,ubh
cation of writings by the workers themselves. Wlthout
this there could be no theory corresponding to reality.
The first of these was The American Worker, a diary
of a General Motors worker's life in the plant, published
APENDIX
I7I
in 1947. Side by side with this diary was published a
philosophical analysis of the daily life of the worker,
showing how in his activity and attitudes to his work
is contained the basis for the reconstruction of society.
In The American Worker the diary and the philoso
phical analysis are still separate. Not until 1955 are
theory and actual experience of the working class
joined together in a single docuent. This is in the
account of the Shop Stewards Movement in Britain
from which we have quoted extensively in the text
and which is reprinted as an appendix to State Capi-
talism and World Revolution.
.
Along the lines set forth in Facing Reality several
j ournals have been attempted. The lessons learned
from their successes and failures have been incorpo
rated into this study. The first of these was . Corres
pGndence, published at Detroit, Michigan, every two
weeks from October 1953 to March 1955 and thereafter
bi-monthly.
The June 1955 issue of the bi-monthly carries an
account of the British dock workers' strikes in 1954
and 1955. The December 1956 issue is devoted to an
account of "Wildcat Strikes at U. S. Rubber" and
the February 1957 issue gives "A Forward Look Into
Chrysler. "
As we go to press the editors of Correspondence are
publishing sample issues in preparation for a four-page
weekly. The April 1958 issue carried a special Transit
Supplement, reporting the efforts of New York
subway workers to organize themselves independently
in opposition to the Transport Workers Union and the
New York Transit Authority.
Correspondence has also published two pamphlets.
The first, entitled Wildcat Strikes and Union Commit
teemen contains a factual account of the nation-wide
wildcat strikes against Reuther in 1955 and an account
of the problems of editing the paper which centered
around the editor, an ex-committeeman. The second
Correspondence pamphlet is entitled Every Cook Can
Govern and is a popular study of Athenian Democracy.
In 1955 there was a split from Correspondence and
another publication, News and Letters, was begun along
the general lines of Correspondence.
I 1954 a group of workers at the Renault plant i
Paris began publication of a small mimeographed paper
entitled Tribune Ouvriere. The project began from the
enthusiastic reception among Renault workers of a
leaflet written by one of the workers of the Sociali1me
l72 ACIO IEAII3Y
ou Barbarie group on the question of abolishing the
hierarchy in pay and skill among workers. Since that
time Tribune Ouvriere has appeared monthly and some
30 Renault workers meet every two weeks to write and
edit articles for it.
In Holland another j ournal, Spartacus, has for years
devoted itself to expressing concretely the conception
that it is the activity of the workers themselves in their
shop floor organizations which is bringing the socialist
society.
There are other jouals in Britain, te Uted
states, and France, such as Dissent, Liberation, and
Universities and Left Review. But while these to one
degree or another oppose official society and do useful
work, it is our view that it is impossible for them to make
real progress so long as they do not align themselves
positively with the forces of the new society which are
embodied in the phrase : Workers Councils in every
department of the national activity and a Government
of Workers Councils.
The life of the modern worker is governed but not
eXhausted by his life in the plant. Indignant Heart is the
story of a Negro worker, from his childhood in the
South to his later experiences with political parties, the
union, and Negro organizations in the North. A Wom
an's Place, written by two working women, is a pro
foundly simple statement of the problems faced by
American women today. I these writings a new litera
ture is being created, breaking completely not only with
the approach of the sociologist but also with the Exis
tentialist intellectual preoccupied with his own dreary
doubts and anxieties.
We can refer here only to a few other works which
give the necessary background t our thinking or which
in themselves show that serious thinkers today in every
sphere are accuulating the material for a new ap
proach to both the past and the future.
Lenin's writings of 1920 and 1921, collected in Vol
ume I of his Selected Works, are an indispensable
guide to anyone, worker, student, or political leader,
who seeks an understanding of the relations between
the state, the unions, and the masses in the moder
,,,orld.
A Little Democracy Is a Dangerous Thing by Charles
Ferguson is a brief but powerful argument for complete
control from below in every sphere of modern life i
the partial democracy that exists today is not going t
be driven towards totalitarianism. The Social Psychol-
ATIEII7 I73
oyy oj Industry by J. A. C. Brow sums up the work
that has been done in the field of industrial relations
in the last twenty-five years, particularly since the end
of the last war, and the unavoidable conclusion from
all these researches that productivity will never be i
creased until the organizations of workers on the shop
floor feel they have control over their work. Two parts of
a book, A Study of American Society, now in prepara
tion, have been completed. The first describes the life
of the Detroit auto worker and the conflict that has
existed since the formation of the U.A.W. between the
activity and aims of the workers and those of the -
union. The second part examines the crisis in the mod
ern family in the United states. Extracts from A Study
oj American Society have been published in Correspon
dence, April 1956, June 1956, and June 1957.
A. . P. Woodhouse of the University College in
Toronto has given us in Puritanism and Liberty an ac
count of the conflict between the rank and file sol
diers in Cromwell's New Model Army and Cromwell
himself, showing the insistent drive towards democracy
on the part of the ranks in the face of Cromwell's own
hesitations. Professors Haller and Davies have made an
important contribution to the current re-examination of
the English Revolution by their collection and editing
of the Leveller Tracts. The introduction is particularly
valuable today, showing Lilburne and his followers in
a far more favorable light than hitherto in their rela
tions with Cromwell.
The finest study of the activities of the working class
during the French Revolution is La Lutte de L0SSCS
by Daniel Guerin.
Du Bois' Black Reconstruction, first published in
1935, remains to this day the best study of the American
Civil War, being based on the role played in it by the
Negroes, particularly the slaves.
Mbiyu Koinange
'
s The People of Kenya Speak jar
Themselves, tells the story of how Kenya Africans were
building schools, cooperatives, and their own political
organizations in an effort to become a part of the mod
ern world when they were thrown back, not by the
Mau Mau but by the offensive of the European settlers
backed by the British government. Two Europeans have
made valuable contributions to the theory of the co
lonial revolution today, showing that the nationalist
struggle is not only for independence but to liberate
new forms of social organization. Thomas Hodgkin i
Nationalism in Colonial Africa describes the various
I71 FACING REALITY
forms in which the newly urbanied Aricans organie
themselves. F. LeGros Clark i an essay entitled 'Con
ditions of Economic Progress" (published i The New
West Africa) states unequvocally that technical pro
gress can take place in the uderdeveloped areas only
through the release of the creative energies and self
organization of the African people, whatever risk and
tensions this may introduce to newly independent gov
ernments.
In recent years scholars have been rediscovering by
-
hard -esearch how the great artists of the past. i par

ticular Shakespeare, were the great creators that they

were precisely because they e r e a t e d for the mass
popular audience. Among the valuable work on thi
subject is Shakespeare and the Popular Dramatic Tra
dition by S. L. Bethell.
This Appendix does not pretend t be i any way
complete. It shows an attitude of mind.
i
ON THE AMERI CAN WOR KI NG CLASS
The American Worker by Phi l Romano and Ri a Stone.
Ori gi nal l y publ i shed in 1 946. An arti cl e by a young
auto worker descri bi ng l i fe i n a FM pl ant and a phi l oso
phi cal arti cl e i ncorporati ng that experi ence i nto the body
of Marxi st theory. 70 pages, $1 . 00.
Uni on Committeemen and Wi l dcat Stri kes by Marti n
Gl aberman.
.
Two arti cl es: the story of the 1 955 wi l dcats i n auto
and a di scussi on of the radi cal uni on committeeman.
23 pages, $. 50.
Punchi ng Out by Marti n Gl aberman.
A popul ar pamphl et on factory l i fe. 32 pages, $. 25.
ON MARXI ST THEORY
A Workers I nqui ry by Karl Marx.
A questi onnai re for workers. 1 2 pages, $.25.
Mao As a Di al ecti ci an by Marti n G l aberman.
A cri ti que of Maoist phi l osophy. 25 pages, $. 50.
WOR KS BY C. L. R. JAMES
Modern Pol itics
Six l ectures given by James to an audi ence in Tri ni
dad, i n whi ch he expl ai ns the meani ng of soci al i sm,
pl aci ng it i n the context of worl d hi story. I l l ustrati ons.
1 67 pages, $1 . 50.
. . .
State Capital ism and Worl d Revol uti on
Theoreti cal anal ysi s of the present stage of capi tal i sm
i n the form of a pol emi c agai nst Trotskyi st vi ews, docu
mented with quotati ons from Marx and Leni n. 1 07 pages,
$2. 50.
The I nvadi ng Soci al ist Soci ety wi th F. Forest a nd R.
Stone.
Ori gi nal l y pu bl i shed i n 1 947, thi s i s a Marxi st state
ment on the worl d and revol uti onary potenti al after Worl d
War I I . I ncl udes anal ysi s and nature of the rol e of
Communist parties. 63 pages, $1 . 00.
Every Cook Can Govern
The ti tl e phrase i s from Leni n and i t argues for
parti ci patory democracy based on the experi ence of
anci ent Greece. 35 pages, $. 20.
Send for l ist or order from:
Bewick/ed
1443 Bewick
Detroit, Mi chi gan 4821 4
U. S.A.
Mi l e One Publ icati ons
21 80 Wyandotte West
Wi ndsor, Ontario
Canada
l
.I
Councils
ByAntonPannekoek
2003 AKPress inthis format
All rights reserved.
FirstpublishedinEnglish
SouthernAdvocateforWorkers' Councils,
Melbourne, Australia, 1948
ISBN: 1-902593-56-1
EditedwithanintroductionandbibliographybyRobertF. Barsky,
Yale University (2002-3) andUniversityofWesternOntario;with
contributions by Noam Chomsky, MIT; Ken Coates, Bertrand
RussellPeaceFoundation, andPeterHitchcock, CUNY
AK Press AK Press
674-A 23rdStreet POBox12766
Oakland, CA 94612-1163 Edinburgh, EH89YE
USA Scotland
(510) 208-1700 (0131) 555-5165
www.akpress.org www.akuk.com
akpress@akpress.org ak@akedin.demon.uk
The addresses above wouldbe delighted to provideyou with thelatest com-
plete AK catalog, featuring several thousand books, pamphlets, zines, audio
products, video products, and stylish apparel published & distributed by
AK Press. Alternatively, checkoutourwebsites for thecompletecatalog,latest
news andupdates, events, andsecure ordering.
LibraryofCongress Cataloging-in-PublicationData
A catalogrecordfor this titleis available from the of
Congress.
CoverdesignbyJohnYates
, . ' . ; ' ~
"
PrintedinCanada .' ...
4
TABLE OF CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION, BY ROBERTF. BARSKY.................V
INTERVIEWS
ROBERTF. BARSKY AND NOAM CHOMSKY. . . . . . . . . . . . . .. VlIl
ROBERT F. BARSKY AND KEN COATES................XVII
ROBERTF. BARSKY AND PETER HITCHCOCK ............XXIII
J. J. LEBELAND PAULMATTICK ....................XXVIII
WORKERS' COUNCILS
PREFACE ........................................3
I. THE TASK
1. LABOR........................................5
2. LAW AND PROPERTY.......................13
3. SHOPORGANIZATION ...........................18
4. SOCIAL ORGANIZATION...........................23
5. OBJECTIONS..................................28
6. DIFFICUlTIES.................................39
7. COUNCIL ORGANIZATION ........................44
8. GROWTH ..................................... 50
II. THE FIGHT
1. TRADE UNIONISM...........................57
2. DIRECTACTION.............................61
3. SHOPOCCUPATION..............................66
4. POLITICAL STRIKES............................68
5. THERUSSIAN REVOLUTION........................76
6. THE WORKERS' REVOLUTION......................83
.,,1
/,.-"
III.THEFOE
1. THEENGLISH BOURGEOISIE.......................99
2. THEFRENCH BOURGEOISIE.......................103
3. THEGERMANBOURGEOISIE .....................109
4. NATIONALISM .................................115
5. AMERIGAN CAPITALISM ........................124
6. DEMOCRACY ................................132
7. FASCISM ...................................138
8. NATIONAL SOCIALISM .........................144
IV. THEWAR(1944)
1. JAPANESE IMPERIALISM .........................161
2. THE RISE OF CHINA............................166
3. THECOLONIES................................174
4. RUSSIA AND EUROPE............................178
5. INTHEABySS .................................183
V. THEPEACE (1947)
1. TOWARD NEWWAR ........................189
2. TOWARD NEW SLAVERY ........................196
3. TOWARD NEWFREEDOM........................202
fuRTHER READING, COMPILED BY ROBERTF. BARSKY ..209
~
Introduction, byRobertBarsky
WOrkers' Councils is good, working-class literature."
NoamChomsky
This text ofAnton Pannekoek's WOrkers' Councils, which is based on the
1950Melbourneedition, questions the legitimacyofwage laborand the sub-
ordination to authority intheworkplace. Ideas relating to these crucial issues
arenotpresentedhereas a series ofconvoluted arguments rootedinlanguage
games. Rather, this book sets out in clear and unequivocal terms previously-
discussed methods for re-organizing theworkplace to meet the needs ofordi-
narypeoplewhobothmanthemachines, and purchasetheproductstheypro-
duce.
Onemightthink,giventhefirst paragraph,thatthis bookwillbeawelcome
re-editionofawell-knowntext. Today,however, this bookis partofalargecor-
pus ofneglected workswhich consider,from a so-called "radical" perspective,
verybasicissues ofconcern to a general readingpublic. Like so muchrelated
work by anarchists, communists, socialists, wobblies, or others who have
thoughtaboutrelationsofpowerintheworkplace,itoughttobebetterknown.
Anyone who has ever worried about how factories are organized, what role
unions play in determiningfactory output, whyworkers have so little sayan
shop floors, and how it is that people can speak of "post-industrialization"
thevastnumberofitems producedeachdayinfactories andshops,will
considerablevalueinreadingthesetexts.Morespecializedaudiences,such
as peoplewhohavecomeacrosstheworkofGramsci,Lenin,MarxorTrotsky
willbesurprised,I think,bythepertinenceofPannekoek'sviews.Peoplefamil-
iarwithmorerecentversions ofMarxistanalysis will berelievedto discovera
writer more obviously engaged in the concerns ofordinary working people,
rather than some version ofdialectical writing that has been tainted withthe
will for postmodern obscurity. This is a text that is made to be read for its
insight, butit's also a textthatoffers a frameworkfor changewhich, although
at times in need ofupdating, rings true in many places. Finally, people who
know ofAntonPannekoekas an astronomer, andanhistorianofscience, will
bepleasantlysurprised thatheis yetanotherexample ofthosegreatscientists
whohaveworkedon, orgiven their nameto, progressive politicalwork.
Onthe other hand, there's no question that people less familiar with the
issues raisedinthis book,orwithworksbyotherpersons concernedwithsim-
ilar things, such as Karl Korsch, Rosa Luxemburg, or, more recently, Zellig
Harris, will fmd the book challenging at times. As Ken Coates notes in his
interview, younger readers will need to have a strong historical sense to cut
throughPannekoek's writing, butitis indeedworththe effort. And this effort
will be assisted considerably, in myopinion, bythe insights offered herein by
v
vi WORKERS' COUNCILS
Noam Chomsky, Ken Coates and Peter Hitchcock. It was Chomsky who orig-
inally suggested to Mark Pavlick the need for a new edition of this book, and
in his fascinating interview he draws attention to the ways in which we can re-
cast questions about wage-earners, globalization, and free trade with reference
to this type of book. For Chomsky, 1fOrkers) Councils isn't an ideologically-
charged Marxist text, but is instead a sensible approach to critical concerns
about the challenges of being a working person in contemporary society. By
taking this tack, Chomsky helps drive home the point that ordinary workers,
not ideologues, have fought over the years for decent wages, fair settlements,
acceptable living conditions, and equality. These people, and the movements
have supported, are constantly bashed or ignored by those who like to
equate concerns for human beings with radicalism or utopianism, as a means
of pandering to the rich and the powerful and promoting their own agendas.
Mark Pavlick, who started the Chomsky discussion circle in Washington
DC, and who has been concerned with the types of issues raised in this book
for several decades, suggested that I pursue the project. I have relied upon
Mark's wisdom and suggestions throughout this long process. His new collec-
tion of unpublished and early Chomsky texts (forthcoming from Common
Courage Press) will further demonstrate the value of this book for current
debates. Ken Coates has been a tireless correspondent and a wise source of
information he has collected, in his many writings and his priceless reminis-
cences. My dear friend Peter Hitchcock, who has doggedly pursued work on
the "workers of the world" from a range of cultural, economic, and historical
perspectives adds a whole new dimension to this work by discussing
Pannekoek's views about Chinese workers, and by providing a framework for
thinking about Pannekoek in the contemporary working-persons setting.
Finally, I should add that this book appears as I put the final touches upon a
biography of Zellig Harris, Noam Chomsky's teacher, and the author of a book
(published posthumously) called The Transformation 0/ Capitalist Society. Readers
interested in different models for re-thinking workplace inequality and factory
inefficiency would derive significant benefit from some of Harris's insights.
Even more dramatic given the current crisis of capitalism is the appearance of
Seymour Melman's monumental tome, After Capitalism: From Managerialism Lo
T%rkplace Democrat), an up-to-date example of how truly radical thinking can
contribute not only to productive freedom in the workplace, but to a better
society. My frequent discussions with Chomsky, Coates, Hitchcock and
Melman on such fundamental topics as worker organizations brings significant
light to a context that is darkened by an ever-widening gap between the haves
and the have-nots, the workers and those who can afford to buy the goods, the
First and the Third Worlds, at a time when "security" can serve as an excuse
for more militarism and more illegitimate intrusion into people's lives, rather
INTRODUCTION vii
than better organizations of those institutions which we rely upon to survive
from one day to the next.
r owe words of thanks to the Social Sciences and Humanities Research
Council, the University of Western Ontario, and Yale University, and, in par-
ticular, to Doug Kneale, Michael Holquist, Kathleen Okruhlik, and Elise
Snyder. Tyler Tokaryk's assistance in the final edit was invaluable. And [mally,
my thanks again to Patricia Foxen, my love and inspiration.
Robert F. Barsky
New Haven, CT
Robert F. Barsky and Noam Chomsky
ROBERT BARSKY: Why should we re-publish Pannekoeks work today?
NOAM CHOMSKY: There is a spread, for the first time in many years, of
a significant public challenge first of all to the existence of the corporation, a
very questionable type of economic organization, and more deeply, there's
questioning of the legitimacy of wage labor and the subordination to authority
in the workplace. This is what Anton Pannekoek is talking about in Tf'orkers'
Councils. Herein, he draws from very deep traditions, all over the West, which
sometimes have no connection to Marxism or any radical tradition; for exam-
the Republican Party of the United States. In the 18608, the Republican
Party was opposed to wage labor, which it regarded as not different from chat-
tel slavery. That was a standard view in the independent workers movement.
And if you read material from the American working class press in the 18505,
which was run by young women from the farms and by laborers from down-
town Boston, and others, it's the same perceptions and convictions. It comes
from their own sense of what they call republicanism, that is, that free men and
women don't sell themselves, they don't enter servitude to a monarchical
authority, which is how they regarded the industrial system. You can even read
editorials in the New York Times from this period which denounce wage labor.
The Knights of Labor,
1
the main United States labor union in the 19
th
Century,
was also committed to collective worker ownership. Even in the early days of
the American Federation of Labor in the 18905, you had members discussing
this. These were very deeply-rooted ideas, and they come straight out of 18
th
century conceptions of natural rights, the rights of free people, which in those
days mostly meant free men. The working class press at that time was run by
women, to a large extent, though, and it contained the same ideas, and we see
it again in the Homestead Strike in the 1890s. It took a long time to drive them
out of peoples' heads, and then never completely disappeared. So there's a res-
onance today, when you talk about them to working class groups, at least in
the United States. All tIris has real meaning, and here in Tf'orkers' Councils we
have an intelligent exposition with an historical background, coming out of a
different tradition, the European socialist tradition, which feeds into tlris, and
provides a backing, which can stimulate it and lead to extremely important
developments.
RB: This book contains ideas as well as specjfic details about how to traniform soci-
Is there still some value in the more technical details qf this book for the contemiJorarv
world?
NC: Things have changed, but I don't think that the fundamentals have. So
let's take information technology, which is new. The information technology
INTERVIEWS ix
itself is kind of neutral. It can, and is being used to dominate and control the
workforce. But you can also use it to provide real time information to people
on the shop floor, to enable people to make global decisions about plant activ-
ities by themselves, without managers. There's an interesting study of this in
David Noble's work [Progress WIthout People, }torces qfProduction], and indeed it's
exactly what he was talking about. When automation came along, and espe-
cially numerical processing and computer control of machine tools, the early
efforts to apply them were done under the auspices of the nrilitary, because that
way it was essentially cost-free. So it could have gone either direction; the tech-
nology that was available could have been used to increase managerial control
and de-skill mechanics, which was done, or it could have been used to elimi-
nate managerial control and to put control into the hands of skilled workers.
The decision to do the fIrst and not the second was not based on economic
motives, as Noble points out pretty successfully, but was made for power rea-
sons, in order to maintain managerial control and a subordinate workforce.
There was evidence that firms could have made more money by working the
other way, that is, according to capitalist principles. The fact that this didn't
occur is a good exanlple of what happens throughout the workforce.
RB: The view we hear most qfien is that without managerial control, no progress would be
possible; Pannekoek s book, and what you've just said, the opposite, that managers
have impeded pro,gress.
NC: It might well be, and this goes back to the early 19
th
Century. If you look
at 19
th
Century materials about the early Industrial Revolution in the United
States-I haven't looked but I'm sure that it would be the same in England-
repeatedly there are cases where decisions were made not on narrow econom-
ic grounds-profit-but on grounds of subordination and domination, to organ-
ize production in particular ways. This actually caused problems for American
industries in the 1970s, when they were falling behind Europe and Japan; it was
in considerable part because of the hierarchical system of US production, with
layers alld layers of management, which took decisionmaking away from the
hands of working people, people who can make these decisions more effective-
ly than managers. Europe andJapan had other techniques, like quality control
groups, so there was some devolution of decisionmaking there, although not
much, but it too turned out to be more efficient than the American system.
That led to calls for what was called the "re-industrialization of America" that
went on in the 1980s, when the Reagan administration essentially dosed the
American market in major industries, assuming that otherwise they were going
to be wiped out by Japanese competition. What happened during this period
was that there was a re-constitution of the steel industry, the auto industry, the
semi-conductor industry, and so on, maintaining the heavy layers of control,
but moving more towards the lean production style of the Japanese and
Vlll
J
x WORKERS' COUNCILS
German manufacturing. This was a response to the de-skilling of the American
workforce. This is discussed in the technicalliteramre, including work by out-
standing economists like Robert Solow and others, who point out that the
United States does not provide the technical training and the skill training that
is standard for most of the population, meaning the workforce, in places like
Germany and Japan. In an era of production in which skills really matter,
where the repetitive tasks can be done by robots, you only need people to do
more skilled work. If you haven't developed fundamental skills in the popula-
tion, like basic literacy, numeracy, vocational education and so on, then you'll
fall behind. A friend of mine who has worked OIl the free school movement,
and is now involved in educational innovation projects at the university level
in Massachusetts, has pointed out that the technical schools are often much
more imaginative and free in the way that education proceeds than are the uni-
versities, because they just have to train people to do things. The sciences are
like that as well; you train people, they work with you, and that is the way peo-
ple learn.
RB: Pannekoek describes this mana.e:ement q/jJroduction and interests
in ways flUll follow this model emblrrved
NC: Pannekoek of course was a well-known astronomer. Sciences have to
work like that, and they have for a long time. Those ideas come straight out of
the Enlightenment, actually, notably Rousseau, Humboldt, and back even fur-
ther_ It picked up in the left-Marxist traditions, and the independent work-
ing class traditions, which have separate roots. They go in parallel, and they
have been suppressed in parallel, but they can re-emerge and interact with one
another.
RB: What about another parallel, between the anarcho-syndicalisls and the
Communists? Both share some q/these and both have irifluenced, and been irifluenced
by, Anton Pannekoek.
NC: Anarcho-syndicalists and Council Communists were at this time almost
indistinguishable. In fact, they cooperated pretty closely; if you look at the lit-
erature on the reactions to the Spanish revolution, the anarchist revolution, the
Council Communists were, like the anarcho-syndicalists, very positive.
Important figures from the two sides, Karl Korsch and Rudolph Rocker, were
saying about the same things.
RB: But Ihnnekoek in this book is hard on the union movement, saying that at times
replicate the society, notably hierarchical relationshil; to workers.
NC: They do.
RB:In sense his sympathyfor anardlo-syndicalism may be somewhat mitigated.
INTERVIEWS Xl
NC: It depends upon what kind of union we're talking about. The union is the
collective organization of the workers, which takes over production and distri-
and so on, and interacts with communities. In this sense the union is a
combination of Pannekoek-style council communism, anarcho-syndicalism,
and Kropotkin's emphasis on community organization. That combination
makes great sense. After all, a work place is not just a work place, it's also in a
community. The community has a role to play and what it does to the people
in it has important effects on the community, as on others who are not in the
workplace itself or the local community. Those kind of interactions have to be
an essential part of any society based upon voluntary association.
RB: So this would apply as much to as to the 7!J/)rbhlfll'P
NC: Indeed. One of the successful anarchist-initiated developments in Canada
is the major housing cooperative in Montreal, which is a good model for lots
of things.
RB: Where Pannekoek is less clear is on the relationship between the institutions
requiredfor, say, the distribution 0/resources requiredfor all workers) councils, such
or water. Is this
NC: I'm personally skeptical about detailed descriptions of the future society;
I just don't think we know enough. And this applies ~ well to fine detailed
descriptions, for example, Diego Abad de Santillan's 1937 book, After the
Revolution. De Santillan was close to the Spanish anarchists, and he wrote a very
detailed description of how they should organize society after the revolution. It
was very critical of the Spanish anarchists, and of what they were doing, and
in his book you'll fmd an extremely detailcd account of what he thought the
society ought to look like. In my view, though, it's too detailed; we don't know
enough. The kinds of questions you're asking here are very serious, but the
answers to them will be learned by experiment; you try, you see how it works,
and then you try other things. Nobody is smart enough to plan a society. You
can talk about some of the principles upon which a society should work, and
you can set up guidelines as to how to implement them, and how to experiment
with them, and there are probably many different ways of doing them. There's
no reason to believe that there's only one right answer; there are lots of differ-
ent answers, with advantages and disadvantages, and people have to choose
between them on the basis of experience, what has happened to others, and so
on. This is true in every area. Take for example the problem of controlling
criminal activity. Any society, no matter what it will contain people you are
afraid of. What do you do with people you're afraid of? For one reason or
another, they cannot become part of the functioning society. This is true of
families, true in communities, true in the world. So you have to have ways of
dealing with it. You want to find the most humane, and least punitive mode of
~
xii WORKERS' COUNCILS
doing this, butit's hardtobelieve thattherewon'tbeany crimeoranti-social
behavior. Humansarejustto complicated.Everyoneofus has anti-social ten-
dencies, and under certain circumstances, some ofthem will come out, and
whentheydo, theyhaveto becontrolled. You cansee thatwithyourowndill-
dren. Butthere are no formulas for howto doit, anymorethanthere are for-
mulas for raisingyour children. Theseare things thathave to beworked out
throughexperience, andinstitutions have to beconstructedto dealwiththem.
Onceconstructed, they thenhaveto be modified, andexamined, with
skepticism, inanexperimentalspirit.Thisappliesas welltoschools, andevery-
thingelse.
?!this text is that you can exercise control over your ownfuture, and you
can De proauctLVe while sati!jjjing your own interests. So even when Pannekoek is critical, as
he is ?fthe unions, he remains optimistic about our ability to set up a society in which peo-
ple can productively pursue their own interests.
NC: Pannekoek'scriticismofunionsis historicallyspecific. He's talkingabout
theunionsthatexisted,notnecessarilyworking-class associations, whichcould
bedifferent.Evenatthetime,Ithinkthatthecriticismwas tooharsh,sincethe
unions were spearheading reformist social democratic initiatives, which were
extremelyimportantfor people. That'swhytheunions are undersuchvicious
attack, andhavebeeneversince the1940s; there are efforts to tryto diminish
or destroy the possibilities that flow from the initiatives that they supported,
and which aimed for democratization and the improvement of human life.
Thoseare notinsignificant things; as a result, peoplecan healthcare, edu-
cation, opportunities to control their own communities, and that is all good,
evenifit's notworkers' control. Yes, unions reproduce thestructure ofsociety
inbadways, butthenyou dealwith that.
RB: Is work consistent with Zellig Harris's ideas, which have now been pub-
lished in his posthumous 1997 book The Transformation ofCapitalist Society?2
There are obvious points qfoverlap in terms qfworkers control,
3
but how close are
NC: Zellig Harris's work draws from these circles. Harris and Paul Mattick
were close friends, and Mattick comes straight out ofPannekoek's tradition;
indeed,hewas responsibleformakingPannekoek'sideasknown,oratleastfor
distributingthe originalPannekoekbook. So sure, this is comingfrom exactly
the same background. Harris moves in different directions, though, because
he's thinking ofESOPs [Employee SharedOwnership Plans), and other tech-
bywhich workers' control can be introduced, that by mechanisms
that actually exist within the capitalist society. There are things that can be
doneinthatframework, andinfact there aremajorentities thatare technical-
ly under workers' control, like United Airlines, which in principal is under
workers', andnotmanagement,control. Andpensionfunds areunderworkers'
INTERVIEWS xiii
control inprinciple, by no means in practice. Ifdevices like that are used in
orderto take over partofthefunctioningofsociety, thenthatis a move inthe
direction that Pannekoek is talking about. Itmakes use as always ofwhat is
available, whichcanbea goodidea, as far as it goes.
RB: The otherJUnction that this book could perhaps play is to counteract the endlessly-
repeated theme that in toriay's world no alternative to the status quo.
NC: Thatis really nothing other thancheap propaganda, anditis successful
amongpeoplewhobenefitfrom it. There'snothingsurprisingaboutthat. The
samepeople couldhave told you that there's no alternative to fascism. Ifyou
look at the earlyperiodofcorporatization, say the earlypartofthe 20th cen-
tury, you see thatitwas understood to be a radicalattack onclassical liberal-
ism. Corporatization essentially undercutthe crucial core idea ofclassical lib-
eralism,thatrightsinhereinpeople,thatrights aresomethingthatpeoplehave.
Itheld,incontrast,thatrightsaresomethingthatorganicentitieshave.Insome
respects, fascism, Bolshevism, and corporatization have the same intellectual
roots, neo-Hegelianideasabouttherights oforganicentities. Theycomefrom
the same texts, German philosophy ofthe late nineteenth century. This was
proposed by progressives, who recognized, very clearly, that it was going to
destroythefreedoms ofpeopleinthe UnitedStates, butithadto bedone. It's
interestingto read peoplelike WoodrowWilsonin this regard. Hewas a pro-
gressive, in theearly20
th
Century, andhe saidcorporatizationwas absolutely
necessary;buthewas also veryclearaboutit. Hesaid that theoldAmerica, of
free independentpeople,is gone. Fromnowon, peopleare goingtobetheser-
vants ofcorporate entities. It was nice to have a free society, but, goodbye.
Goodbye, because there was no alternative. And in a certain sense, that was
correct. The market systems were terribly destructive, you couldn't let them
continue to function. They had to be administered, and business, ofcourse,
wantedto administerthemitself. So theyadministerthem themselves internal-
throughconglomerates ofonesortoranother, trusts, corporations,whatev-
er. Froma theoreticalpointofviewanybusinessfIrm, amomandpopgrocery
storeforexample,is amarketfailure. Thebusinessfirmhasatechnicaldescrip-
tion inmodern economics: it's a local solution to market imperfections when
the transaction costs are too high. Inordinarylanguage, the finn is a market
imperfection because it is administeringeconomic interactions internally, and
notthrough the market. Whenyou go from a momandpop grocerystoreto
GeneralElectric, you're talkingaboutan enormous marketimperfection. And
it's a recognition bythe capitalists themselves thatthe markets are simplytoo
destructive to function, so we have to administer andcontrol them. Thatwas
the "thereis noalternative"ideaoftheearly20
th
Century, anditsimplycon-
tinues. There's an interesting theology about trade that has been developed,
and hereeconomists have a lotto answer for. Trade is beingheldup as some
...J
xiv WORKERS' COUNCILS
kindofholythingthatyouhavetomaximize, butofcoursetradehas novalue
initself. It's avalueto theextentthatit haspositivewelfare effects. Otherwise
it's nota value, it's notlike freedom, for example. Theclaim is that the new
form ofwhat is misleadingly called globalization increases trade, and that's
good. Well, the fact ofthe matter is that even in the way that they measure
trade, globalization doesn'tincreaseit. So thegrowthintradeis notfaster than
itwas duringthe BrettonWoods period, say. Furthermore, ifyou take alook
atwhatis called trade, youfind thatbyanyreasonable measure, tradcmayin
fact bedeclining. Thereasonis that anenormous partofwhatis called trade
is centrally-managed. So intra-firm trade, tradewithina single corporation, is
considered trade. IfGeneral Motors moves parts from Indiana to Illinois for
assembly, andthenbacktoTexas to sell, you don'tcall this trade. Butyoudo
callittradewhenyoumoveitacrossthebordertoMexicoandback.Andthat's
no small part; US trade with Mexico is probably more than 500f0 intra-firm.
And that's only a piece ofit. Whenyou do out-sourcing, that is, in order to
destroy unions and get the cheapest possible labor, and disposable labor, and
whenyou forget about environmentaleffects, and so on, a standard device is
out-sourcing. Inthatcaseyoudon'tproduceyourownbatteries,orsomething,
you out-source them to some small company that doesn'thave to obeywork
standards, or whatever it may be. This is often in foreign countries. A good
dealofwhatis called tradeis theinteraction throughout-sourcing, andthatis
centrally managed. Beyond that, the whole economy, everywhere, is moving
towards oligopoly, which means several huge corporations dominatinga par-
ticular component ofthe economy. Corporations partially compete, but they
also partiallycooperate. Ifyou lookattheautoindustry, you'll see that it has
narrowed considerably from what it was 20 or 30years ago. Furthermore, if
you lookat the companies, you'll see that they partially own each other, and
theyworkonjointprojects together,andtheyhavethesamerepresentatives on
theirBoards ofDirectors, and so on. All ofthis ends up beingkindofa mer-
cantilistsystem,inwhichwhatAdamSmithwouldhavecalled'trade'is asmall
componentofwhatis goingon.You can'tassignnumbersto it, andthereason
for this is thatcorporations are totalitarianinstitutions,andtheydon'ttellyou
what they are doing, anymore than the Kremlin told you whatitwas doing.
There's a way to fmd out what corporations are doing, though; in the US,
Congresshassubpoenapower,andit can,ifitwantedto, openthe books.One
ofthe majorefforts ofunionleaders inthe 1950swas to openthebooks; they
said, "tellus whatyou'redoing,don'tbefascistic orStalinist".Well, theunions
lostthatone,buttherightremainsthere.Thepublichastherighttoforce them
to openthebooksandto discoverwhatis goingon.Is theretrade?Let's forget
aboutwhethertradeis good orbad,becauseit'snotobvious, butthequestion
is it really happening? Oris what is happening to a large extent nothing
other than ccntrally-administered interaction with high-levels of managerial
INTERVIEWS xv
control inwhat amounts to a global mercantilist system?Inparts ofthis sys-
tem, like aircraft production, youcansee this clearly. There's presentlya dis-
putebetween Brazil and Canada, which is kind ofcomical, because they are
arguing about subsidies to airline manufacturers. Okay, these are two little
midgets bickering about subsidies. In the meantime, the commercial aircraft
industryis inthehands oftwo corporations,BoeingandAirbus. Bothofthem
arestate-subsidized,andneitherofthemcouldcxistwithoutmassivesubsidics.
Boeingwas anoffshootoftheUnitedStates Airforcc, whichis whcremuchof
the technologyis developed, so we all endupflying aroundinmodified army
transportplanes.Nowit'sdowntothosetwo companies,andthatis thebiggest
civilian export. Automobile manufacturers are down to about half a dozen
firms, alloftheminter-linked.Andthatis thedirectionthateverythingis going.
So if you care about what is actually happening, the economy is moving
towards totalitariancontrol,ormercantilisticcontrol,andtheclaimis, as ithas
beensince the late 19
th
Century, thereis no altcrnative. And ina scnse there
isn't,ifthe onlyalternativeis markets, whichare too destructive, so youhave
to have administration. But then there's the obvious question: why does the
administrationhavetobetotalitarian?You couldsaythesamethingaboutgov-
ernmentalstructures. In some respects theymaybemore efficient when they
havctotalitarianfeatures, butthat's notanargumentfor them.
RB: You've just done a truly radical analysis!
NC: None ofthis is profound, anybody canunderstand this. As soonas you
decode a little bit ofthepropaganda, you cansayyes, thatis what is right in
front ofus.
RB: That's certainly the impression one has in reading Workers' Councils, that there's
an obvious validity and a clear-headed presentation.
NC:It is obvious in the sense that children could understand it. It's notlike
quantum physics. You don't have to have a profound understanding ofdeep
subjects inorder to graspwhatit's about,justordinarycommonsense, a will-
ingness to lookat the facts thatare available to us. Ofcourse onequickly dis-
covers thatmany ofthese facts are not available to us, because theyare kept
secret. Theyarekeptsecretinprinciplcwithinquasi-totalitarianinstitutions.
RB: Another way that they are kept secret is that texts like thi:, one which talk about these
ideas are so hard tofind. And yet when we read a book like Workers' Councils, wefind
it very understandable and usqfol.
NC:This particularbookwas last printedin the 19508, and back then, who
read it? 25 people? And it is not filled with Marxist jargon. Pannekoek of
course is a Marxist, butyou didn't have to know that, you could readitand
J
xvi WORKERS' COUNCILS
forget the Marxist framework. As such, it's good, solid, working-class litera-
ture.
Notes on Robert F. Barsky and Noam Chomsky Interview
1. For a sense of this organization, see
http://www.spartacus.schoolnct.co.uklUSAknights.htm
2. Zellig S. Harris, The Traruformation qfCapitalist Society, Lanham MD, Rowman and
Littlefield, 1997.
3. To address this obvious lacuna, I have recently completed Zellig's America: Linguistics,
Radical lVldies and Zionism i:n the Twentieth Century, Cambridge; London: The MIT Press,
2003.
Robert F. Barsky and Ken Coates
ROBERT BARSKY: The world has changed considerabry since the middle qfthe 20
th
century} when Workers' Councils was first published-or has it? Rmnekoek describes
problemsfocing workers organizations which are still with us today} and many qfthe condi-
tions which prevailed when thil text was produced still reign) ifnot in our own countries) in
many regions qf the 17drd World. But does the method if/social organization proposed here
still seem topical to you?
KEN COATES: The world of work has changed enormously since the mid-
dle of the last century. Concentration means that greater powers of capital are
ranged against more fragmented, and even isolated work forces. This process
has been complex. It has entailed, amongst other things, a movement of man-
ufacturing away from traditional centers to newly-industrial countries, com-
monly employing very low paid workers, often in unsafe and primitive condi-
tions. But even when conditions have been more advanced, the result has been
dire in the traditional centers, entailing a great increase in structural unem-
ployment. In response, we have seen a growth of non-manual, part-time, and
short-term employment. A large scale shift into service industries has changed
the pattern of labor organization, generating a sharp growth in service unions.
The movement of capital into the service sector has threatened and is threat-
ening public sector services. The scale of mechanization has commonly
reduced the size of individual work forces, and rendered the organization of
trade unions more difficult, between individual plants, sectors of production,
and transnational outposts. Simply to describe the complexities of workers'
organization in modern companies thus requires a very compIcx matrix.
Accordingly, it is dear that the powers of capital today require a more inven-
tive and far more cosmopolitan response from unions.
RB: Isn)t it the case that some qf these GTeative approaches have come}rom outside the
unions) particularry more recentry?
KC: 1bere has been a blossoming of voluntary organizations concerning them-
selves with the adverse impact of industry, whether on the global environment,
or on local social amenities, or on human and social rights. This flowering of
civil society has begun to make possible overall criticism of the present struc-
ture of society, through, amongst other initiatives, the Porto Alegre process,
which has joined labor unions into its framework.
RB: You have worked your whole ljfe with the labor movement) but you were also elected
to the European Parliament) which must have jett a long way}rom the shop floor; do you
stillfind yourself confronted with the principle issues which were qfconcern to you when first
you started your union struggles?
.J
XVll
xviii WORKERS' COUNCILS
KC: I was not re-elected to the EuropeanParliamentin 1999, although I did
previously work for ten years in that area. I spent the first five years as
Chairman ofthe Sub-Committee on Human Rights, workingwithin conven-
tionalParliamentarystructures across thewholerangeofhumanrights issues.
Inmy second term, I stepped down from that responsibility which has been
veryonerousindeed,becauseIwishedtodevotemyselfmuchmoreactivelyto
the problem ofmass unemployment in Europe. I had agitated for the estab-
lishmentofa'IemporaryCommitteeonEmployment, chargedwiththetask
preparing the Parliament's response to European unemployment. When that
Committee was formed in 1994, I became its Rapporteu1'y and drafted its two
reports,bothofwhichwerecarriedbyoverwhelmingmajorities.Butbothwere
ignored by the Council ofMinisters, leaving the Parliament's opinions com-
pletelysidelined. Theproposalsuponwhichwehadagreed werebroadlyneo-
Keynesianwithin thefranleworkwhichhadbeenproposedbyJacques Delors,
thePresident ofthe European Commission. Thatthe European governments
flatlyrejectedall suchproposalswas averyclearindicationinthemiddle1990s
that neo-liberalism was in the driving seat in the European institutions, and
dIat the conventional postwar social democratic perspectives were now seri-
ously challenged. That the challenge sometimes came form social democratic
governments themselves didnotmakeourpolitical responses anyeasier.
RB: You in fact used the flcilities and the clout to pursue work relating to civil society, the
type ifwork one would expect to find in a parliament, but one which has been so prqfound-
ly overshadowed qflate by the combination ifmilitarism and neo-liberalism.
KC: Duringallmytenyears intheParliament, I triedto makeuse ofits facil-
ities inordertodevelopgreaterscopeforEuropeancivilsociety.Thisis notthe
sum of"n' national civil societies: theexistence ofstrongpensioners' associa-
tions inEngland orGreece does not in itselfaddup to a greater capacityby
pensioners to defend their interests at the EuropeanleveL 'Ib try to assist in
morerapid convergence, I proposed theconveningofa EuropeanPensioners'
Parliament.UnderthesponsorshipoftheSocialistGroupofMEPs,afull-scale
EuropeanParliamentofpensioners was convened, drawnfrom every country
intheEuropeanUnion.TIlepensionerswereabletoagreeonacomprehensive
charter ofjoint demands, and thewhole process greatlyincreasedinteraction
andnetworkingbetweenexistingnationalmovements.Itwasfollowed byasec-
ond Pensioners' Parliament under the auspices ofthe European Parliament
itself. As aresultoftheseinitiatives, disabledpeopleapproachedme, and,with
some difficulty, there were able to organize a Disabled Peoples' Parliament,
which hada very dramaticeffectinstrengthening the co-operation oforgani-
zations or people with disabilities all across the areaofthe European Union.
Once we had been blocked in our attempt to enforce job-creating policies,
INTERVIEWS xix
throughout the European Union, we convened two full-scale assemblies of
unemployedpeople, withinthesame generalperspective.
RB: Do youftel that your approach to workers' concerns has evolved considerably through
time, or do the same truirms apply? Are there texts, by, say, Noam Chomsky, Antonio
Gramsci, David Noble or Bertrand Russell which remainjor you basic textsjor those inter-
ested in these issues? How does Anton Pannekoek swork resonate as regards these otherfig-
ures?
KC: Obviously my approach to the development ofthe freedom ofworking
peoplehas evolved,buttherearecertainconstants whichareveryevident.Yes,
thesemaybeembodiedincertaintexts. Butitis amostremarkabletextwhich
canreflect the heavingmixofconcerns whichexpress themselves throughliv-
ingsocial movements. Pannekoek's work stands outwell in this respect, with
the reservation that I mark out inmy response to your next question. Inthe
Institute for Workers' Control, which I helped to establish during the 19608,
ourapproachdidnotfollow, inanyconventionalway, the disseminationofany
particulartexts. Ofcourse,we drewupon all theteachersyoumention:butwe
also derived most ofourpractice from the British worker's education move-
ment.As aresult,wesoughttodevelopcollectiveresponsesbygroupsofwork-
ers whoworked outtheir ownideas abouthow dley might go forward. Such
groupswerehelpedbyworkers' educationalistssuchasMichaelBarrattBrown
and Tony Topham, who provoked groups ofsteel workers, miners, dockers,
andbusmenintogeneratingilieirowndetailedproposalsforindustrialdemoc-
racyindleirindustries.Theseproposalsvaryconsiderably,notonlyinrelation
tothedifferentindustrialconditionsintheareasconcerned,butalsoinrelation
totherangeofideas uponwhichparticulargroups ofworkpeoplecoulddraw.
Someoftheseideassharedaffinities with,say, theGuildSocialists;otherswere
closer to the industrial unions. But such study as took place was the better
informedbecauseworkershadthemselvesstruggleddirectlywithtlleproblems
whichhadtroubledthepioneers inanearliergeneration.!
RB: Anton Pannekoek exhibits a deep suspicion about trade unions in this text,ftarfol that
they might reproduce the very structures they have been set up to combat. What do you think
about this part ofhis work?
KC: Thesuspicionoftrade unions wasverycommon, amongtrade unionists
themselves.You willrecallTomMann'sveryfamous outburst,atthebeginning
ofhis life as a militantengineer:
"How long, how long, will you be content with the present half-
heartedpolicyofyour Unions?I readilygrantthatgoodworkhas
beendoneinthe pastbytheUnions,but, inHeaven's name, what
good purpose are they servingnow? All ofthem have large num-
bers out ofemployment even when their particular trade is busy.
J
xx WORKERS' COUNCILS
None oftheimportantsocieties have anypolicy other thanthatof
endeavoring to keep wages from falling. Thetrue Unionist policy
ofaggression seems entirelylostsightof: in fact theaverageunion-
istoftodayis amanwithafossilizedintellect, eitherhopelesslyapa-
thetic, or supportinga policy thatplays directly into the hands of
the capitalistexploiter."2
Butalthoughdowntheyearsnewgenerationsoftradeunionmembershave
echoedthis frustration, itis equally true that down theyears they have made
great gains, without passing beyond the capitalist forms of organization.
Indeed,theEnglishmeaningofthewords "Workers'Control"captures amore
complexreality. When they succeed in controllinghiringandfiring, workers
have not established their rule over the enterprise. But they have effectively
restrictedthepowersoftheemployer to do as hewishes. Thewholehistoryof
trade union agitation is the story of the encroachment of powers by the
workpeople'scollectives,andthecircumscriptionofwhatusedtobeseenas the
employer'sprerogatives.Inthis sense, tradeunionshavebeenapartofthehis-
toricalseparationofpowers,andhavelimitedthearbitrarycapacityofemploy-
ers to goverutheworkplaces as theywish. Thisprocesswas actuallyfostered
successiveGovernmentsbeforeandduringtheFirstWorldWar,inaneffort
toencourageindustrialpeace.Itadvancedwithgiantstrides duringtheSecond
World War, when Ernest Bevin, one ofthe principal agitators between 1914
and1918,becameMinisterofLaborinthecoalitionGovernment,andimposed
a regimeof jointconsultation onoftenrecalcitrantemployers.Thiswas full of
ambiguities,aswasBevin'slaterandmuchmoreexpandedcontribution,which
saw him aiding in the reconstruction ofthe German trade union movement,
whilehewas the BritishForeignSecretaryinthepost-warLaborGovernment.
Wiseacres claimed that the structure ofthe Transport and General Workers'
Unionhadbeen transplantedinto Germanyas a result.
RB: How did you approach this problem in your own work?
KC: Wehadlongdiscussionsaboutthis. Couldit growoverintofull-scaleself-
management, in which workers could determine the objectives ofthe enter-
prises in which they worked, and establish new forms of self-government?
Revolutionaries suchas LeninandTrotskychangedtheirviews abouttherole
oftrade unions with experience. At times, Trotsky sharedPannekoek's impa-
tience. Butatothertimes, as inhis polemicwithThalheimer, hewas strongly
insistent on workers' control as a negative constriction of employer power,
firmly to be demarcated from workers' self-management. During a fanlOus
post-revolutionary controversy, Lenin made great play of the importance of
tradeunionsas educationalbodies,at the same timethathedevelopedasharp
doctrine of separation ofpowers, with the intention of curbing bureaucratic
authoritarianismintheinstitutionsoftherevolution.TheideaoftheWorkers'
INTERVIEWS xxi
and Peasants' Inspectorate accepted that the workers needed effective instru-
ments to control their own representatives. Not only was this insight under-
stood by the Yugoslavs when they set out to develop the institutions ofself-
management, butextensive experiments were madewith the intention ofact-
inguponit. Muchoftheinternalhistoryoftradeunionshasbeenaboutassert-
ingandre-assertingthisprinciple.Attheverybeginningof\Vebb'sHistory,we
learn abouthow the trade unions controlled their ownfunds from peculation
by greedy treasurers, by keeping them in boxes with three locks, just as the
ChurchandChapelfunds hadbeensafeguardedbyprevious generations.The
treasurer could onlyaccess the union's money, with the co-operationofthose
auditors who kept the other keys, and ensuredprobity in the dispensation of
cash.
RB: In England I met a representative .from a large bookseller who said that Noam
Chomsky's work is sold primarily to younger people (16-25years qfage) which might lead
us to suggest all sorts rf things about disillusionment with contemporary society. Can you
imagine that even despite the dflferences in tone) approach and style that thi, same group
people willfind Anton Pannekoek's work compelling?
KC: Chomsky is preaching democracy to people who have to make sense of
the oppressions ofthe 21
st
Century. Youngpeoplewill need to have a strong
historical sense to cut through the earlier arguments ofPannekoek, who was
addressingthoseproblemsofwhichwehavebeenspeaking.I thinkitis wortll
theeffort.
RB: You have been working/or a long time in the Bertrand Russell Peace Foundation) and
in some ways have continued to work in ways consistent with his approach. Is it appropriate
to consider what, ifany relatilYllS exist between the work ifRussell and Pannekoek?
KC: I don't think that Russell knew ofPannekoek, altllOugh this could be
checkedoutatthearchives atMcMasterUniversity.3Russell's ownlittlebook,
Road, to Freedom4, is still worthreading, andhas a lively chapter onthe syndi-
calistrevolt,whichis maiulyinspiredbytheCGT[ConfederationGeneraledu
Travaill in France, the De Leonists in the United States, and the IWW
[InternationalWorkersoftheWorld]. ItdrawsheavilyontheworkofG.D. H.
ColeinEngland.
RB: Someone who has in dfoct picked up the types rfquestions they both address is Seymour
Melman, whose new book, After Capitalism/deals with the needfir workplace riform
to address the US's march towards an economic model if managerialism which ominousl
resembles in important ways the USSR's "planned economy." He said to me recently that
hopes to someday write his memoirs, which he hopes to call Ineverchangedmymind!.
I think that he's rifemng here to his basic approach to issues, and the fundamental values
which guide his thinking about fundamental issues concerning, fir example, workplace
J
xxii WORKERS' COUNCILS
mind"aboutthe types ofissues discussed in
and
democracies. Haveyou
in which ways?
KC: No,IagreewithSeymourMelman,andonthebigthingsI feel morecon-
vinced thaneverI did thatthe dominationofonemanorwomanbyanother
is a crime against our future. If anything, I've become more extreme in this
view, butIhavelongbelievedthata trulyhumansocietywill beoneinwhich
no-onehas evertakenanorderorperformed anaction withoutknowingwhy.
On the other hand, what most people mean when they speak of"changing
their minds" is not modifying their deep convictions, but, simply, learning
aboutconjuncturalmatters. Onthe whole thatis a goodidea! "Whencircum-
stances changeI changemymind. Whatdoyoudo?" said].M. Keynes.
Notes on Robert F. Barsky and Ken Coates Interview
1. Abriefguideto this conflictingmass ofdoctrines canbefoundinIndustrial
Democracy in GreatBritain, MacGibbonandKee, 1967, eds. KenCoates andTony
lapham.
2. Ken Coates andTonyTopham, Ttze Making(lthe Transport and General Workers'
Blackwell, 1991, volume 1, part1, p. 42.
3. http://www.mcmaster.calmssdocs/mssell.htm
4. Roads to Freedom: Socialism, Anarchism, and Syndicalism. London, 1918.
5. SeymourMelman, AflerCapitalism: From Managel1alir1n to WOrkplace Democracy, NY:
Knopf, 2001.
Robert F. Barsky and Peter Hitchcock
ROBERT BARS KY: This is an unusualtextin some ways, alongpamphlet, apeda-
gogicalguide to modffjingworkers'relations, apolemicalessay) andakindqfpopularhis-
tory if'the working class and its relations to land and machine owners. You yourselfhave
workedaloton workingdassfictionsandnon:fictions) tellmehowyousee thegenrein which
Pannekoek writes) andhow this eJlrxts the substance if'theargument.
PETER HITCHCOCK: I thinkitwouldbeinterestingto explorethetextas
a kindoffiction, as itreflects onthe fictive beingofworking-class subjectivity
forinstance.Thenagainthereis thequestionofChinesefictions (fictions about
China) andthis is perhapsmorepertinentonthis occasion. HerePamlekoekis
polemicaltoadegreethatthreatens thefoundationoftheargument.Partofthe
problem is simply the form: the pamphlet mode allows for sweepinggeneral-
ization, someofwhichis deservingandwouldbesupportableifnecessary,but
thereis also a sense thatthecritique ofJapaneseimperialism, for example, an
imperialismthatdirectlyaffects China, canonlybemadepreciselybecauseof
the elisions thatitforces. Oftenthe surveyproceeds ina highlydeterministic
andfunctionalistmanner(a few upperclass folks studyinEuropeandvoila, a
Japanesebourgeoisieis born!) orPannekoekoffers comparisonsthatareeither
emptyorunsupportable ("Theworkingclassesinthecountry,as wellas inthe
towns,livedinastateofhopelessmisery,ofsqualoranddespair,surpassingthe
worstconditionsinEuropeofoldentinIes").Thisdoesnotmean,however, that
Pannekoek's provocation is completely unfounded. Dismissing claims that
JapaneseexpansionismwasbornofpopUlationpressures, Pannekoekresponds
that incursions into China were largely economic, and focused on iron ore
extraction in the northand cottonproductioninand around Shanghai. This
muchremainstrueinthelinksofimperialismandcapitalism:strategicinterests
tendtobetheprofitableones.
RB: One way in which t i ~ book stillresonates is in its analysis (lIthe relationship between
these linksyou mention) between imperialism andcapitalism. Butin certain sections he seems
to undermine the importance if'thepeasant population) and when he does talk about it)
draws asharp line betweenpeasants in China and in Europe)justas he distinguishes very
between the bourgeoisie in bothplaces. How does this rather complexsetif'compar-
ironsplay into the development qf i ~ version qfMarxism?
PH: On this question I think Pannekoek bears comparison to his Chinese
counterparts who, like him, were struggling hard over the differences and
unevendevelopments ofclass formation andantagonism ona world scale. In
fact, as ArifDirlik has pointed out, Chinese Marxists before the rise ofthe
Chinese Communist Party were more likely to favor an anarcho-Marxism
muchcloser to Kropotkin thantoMarxist-Leninism. Thatthelatterwouldtri-
xxiv WORKERS' COUNCILS
umphhas tendedto obscuretheinfluenceoftheformer whichmighthavepro-
vided Pannekoek himselfwith a provocation to explore the question ofcom-
parisonin a deeper way. Thewhole history of"socialism with Chinesechar-
acteristics" pivots on the specific character ofthe Chinese peasantry, and this
specificity was much discussed long before the Russian Revolution made its
mark. Partofthe significance ofPannekoek on this score is thathe earnestly
acknowledges the differences even if he does not sufficiently elaborate the
implications thatproceed from them. For thoseonewould haveto readMao.
RB: You are particularly interested in the plight ifChinese workers, and this area is sel-
dom discussed when we consider Pannekoek's work. Why is this an important sectionfor
Pannekoek, and how might it be ifcontinued interest to people interested in current events in
the region?
PH: Thesection devoted to Chinareplays familiar mantras butonlybecause
they touchoncertainhistorical truths.Thedecline andfall ofthe Qj,ngwas a
complex andmessy process, fueled byruling class arrogance, corruption, and
a naive isolationism. Inthenineteenth centurytheChinesemilitarywas clear-
lyin need ofmassive modernizationbuteven after humiliating defeats atthe
hands ofthe British navy the nation state clung to older pastimes. Thegross
exploitationoftheChinesebyforeigncolonialpowerswiththeir "concessions"
and price fixing of imports only exacerbated the social contradictions of
Chinesemodernity. As Pannekoeknotes, this opened the possibility ofsocial-
istorganization (hementionsSunYatseninthisregard) anda nationalistmove-
mentfrom belowbutitsimultaneouslypaved thewayfor further intervention
inChinabythose willing to competefor its potentialsurplusvalue. Whenwe
say that the days ofhigh imperialism and colonial powers are gone this does
notmeanthatimperialismdoes notparticipateintoday'sstruggles oversurplus
value.Itis adifferentkindof imperialismbutonethatis earnestlyknockingon
China'sdoor.
RB: How does Pannekoek contribute to the long debates about the relationship between
China and the Soviet Union, and what in your sense does this bring to his argument?
PH: Notsurprisingly, Pannekoek also casts ajaundicedeye onSovietinterest
in China after 1917 and this makes for blanket statements rather than
nuance. While no one doubts Soviet manipulation ofChina's emergingLeft,
Pannekoekgives theimpression thatMaoandtheearlycommunistswere sim-
plydupeswith noagencyoftheirown: "TheC.P. ofChinahadbeeninstruct-
ed from Moscow that the Chinese revolution was a middle-class revolution,
thatthebourgeoisiehadtobethefuturerulingclass, andthattheworkerssim-
plyhadto assist heragainstfeudalism and bringherinto power." Cynics will
saythatevenafterthedemiseoftheSovietUniontlleChinesecommunistsare
still following this modelbuttheclass, geopolitical, and indeedspatial coordi-
INTERVIEWS xxv
nates ofmodern China are not so easily drawn. Still, it remains the case that
Japan's invasion owed a great deal to the factional warring ofthe republican
periodinChinawhencommunistinspiredpeasantrevolutionwrestledwiththe
Kuomintangnationalist-fueledmodernizationnarrative across vaststretchesof
eastern andsouthernChina. Even though the Qj,ng tried vainlyto resuscitate
fortunes byallyingitselfwiththeJapaneseinManchuria,Pannekoekis right
to focus on the peculiarities ofChina's urban bourgeoisie as a hmd-owning
class and thus moreeasilyvilifiedas thosemostlikelyto maintainpeasantsub-
jection.Japanese imperialism did indeed necessitate a united front but it was
onlyafterChiangKai-shek's briefcaptureintheXianincidentof1936thatthis
necessity gained greaterpurchase.
RB: It seems important to discuss how the Vliest dealt with thisformidable alliance between
the Soviet Union and China, and what role can we ascribe, in Pannekoek sreading, to the
relationship between workers ifthe world and nationalism?
PH: While the Soviets nurtured their relationship with the Chinese
Communist Party, the United States and the "Vest played the China card
towards the nationalists. TheKMTdrew onfears ofcommunism to advance
its particular brand of "democracy" and its earlier atrocities went largely
unpunished.Thegamblewas clearly thatnationalismwas a smallprice to pay
ifforeign capital could reassert itself through a form ofneo-colonial trade. It
shouldbenoted,however, thatParmekoekoverlooks thefact that theJapanese
war machine was also being fueled by the West, including the United States,
andthatthis formofriskmanagement continuedrightup to PearlHarbor.
RB: In this sense, though, Pannekoek s book is out ifdate, although there are moments at
which wefind marks fila prescient analysis. Surprilingly enough, its in the questions about
"class" that wefind some 1([ the more interesting predictions. And his concern with the con-
ditions appropriatefor the installation ifcapitalism in China have also borne the test iftime,
ifthe massive number ifconsumer goods bearing the 'made in China' ensign is any indica-
tion.
PH: Hindsight, of course, tarnishes Pannekoek's commentary significantly.
Theworldwardemonstrablydid notmeanthe rise ofChinaas a newcapital-
ist world power: the communists won, and so the ironies ofhistory decreed
that the defeatedJapanese would assume that mantle in Asia. One cannot
blamePannekoekfor thismisdiagnosissinceitis in thenatureofpoliticalpun-
ditry that such shortfalls must occur. What is interesting, however, is
Pannekoek's vision offuture class relations which, for all the wackiness and
muddleheadedness ofhis reading, now appears wonderfully prescient. Thus,
whileChina'swardebtdidnotimmediatelymakeitsubjecttoAmericaninflu-
ence, thenotionnowthat"AmericancapitaL..willhavetheleadinbuildingup
its industry" does not seem farfetched (especially ifone tracks foreign direct
J
xxvi WORKERS' COUNCILS
investment and joint venture activity). Similarly, Pannekoek's note that China
has "fertile soil, capable of producing an abundance of products" is hyperbolic
(particularly in light of demographics) but his qualification "requiring security
wide scientific care and regulation of the water, by constructing dikes and
excavating and normalizing rivers" remains a pertinent issue (to which we
would have to add the question of hydropower and projects like the Three
Gorges Dam). The class implications of such activities are for Pannekoek quite
pronounced: "The ideals and aims for which the working masses of China are
fighting will, of course, not be realized. Landowners, exploitation and poverty
will not disappear; what disappears are the old stagnant, primitive forms of
misery, usury and oppression. The productivity of labor will be enhanced; the
new forms of direct exploitation by industrial capital will replace the old
ones. The problems facing Chinese capitalism will require central regulations
by a powerful government. That means forms of dictatorship in the central gov-
ernment, perhaps complemented by democratic forms of autonomy in the
small units of district and village." Pannekoek believed he was writing of a turn-
ing point in history-one in which the goals of social transformation would
come sharply into view. For all sorts of reasons (including the Cold War,
Maoism, Americanization and globalization) historical crisis has taken a differ-
ent route.
RB: Pannekoek points to elements rf the Chinese workers' character, suggesting that it is
filled with promisefir revolutionary change. kar instance: "With the growth qfindustry the
jight qfthe industrial workers will spring up. With the strong spirit rforganization and great
solidarity shown so q/i:en by the Chinese proletarians and artisans) even a rue more rapid
than in Europe rfa powerful working class movement may be expected." In your work there)
have you had this same sentiment) or is this another way in which Pannekoek was a bit too
optimistic?
PH: Here Pannekoek's optimistic will shines through, but we could have done
with a bit more intellectual pessimism. Nevertheless, the importance he notes
in Chinese class formation remains a burning issue, perhaps more so now.
Historically we might now say that the biggest muzzle on working-class politi-
cal action was provided, paradoxically, by "actually existing socialism." There
are many holes in such an argument, but even if it were the case the alibi is run-
ning a little thin. Basically labor organization in the PRC was deemed super-
fluous (by the Party) as long as significant surpluses were largely redistributed.
This did not stop class fomIation and antagonism (the Party understood that
the task was to make communism not simply to announce its achievement) but
with economic differences, comparatively small worker protest was not acute.
That is not the case today where extremes of poverty and wealth have come
much more clearly into view. Labor organization is still stifled and for now at
INTERVIEWS xxvii
least the capitalists and the communists are smiling at each other across the
table.
RB: So Pannekoek:S
is still pertinent?
PH: For all the rhetorical blather and ideological shortcuts these passages read
like cuneiform on capital's pillars. Perhaps the words will not outlast the form,
but the fact that they were etched at all reminds us that both are historical. As
we try to historicize a present in which capital divides and unites China and the
United States, the class war of which Pannekoek wrote is both anachronistic
and vital. What is out of time in worker councils is on time in terms of capital
relations, and that paradox provides different names for self organization in the
current crisis, another uneven development, perhaps, that Pannekoek would
have appreciated.
}.}. Lebel and Paul Mattick
l
J. J. LEBEL: What relevance does Pannekoek sbook have in Europe today? Do you think
that the ana1:ytic memory and theory Iff the past experience Iff council communism, as
Pannekoek expresses them, can be "heard" and understood by workers here
PAUL MATI1CK: A book, such as Pannekoek's, is not in need of immedi-
ate relevance. It concerns itself with a historical period; with past occurrences
as well as possible future experiences, in which the phenomenon of workers'
councils appearing and disappearing points to a trend of development in work-
ers' class struggle and its changing objectives. Like anything else, forms of class
strnggle are historical in the sense that they make their appearance long before
their full realization becomes an actual possibility. In an embryonic form, for
example, trade unions arose spontaneously as instruments of working class
resistance to capitalist exploitation at the very beginning of capitalism's devel-
opment, only to disappear again because of objectively determined hindrances
to their further development. Yet, their temporary irrelevance did not hinder
their full unfolding under changed conditions, which then determined their
character, possibilities and liII).itations. Similarly, workers' councils made their
appearance under conditions which precluded the release of all their revolu-
tionary potentialities. TIle content of the social upheavals in which the first
workers' councils arose was not adequate to their organizational form. The
Russian workers' councils of 1905 and 1917, for instance, fought for a consti-
tutional bourgeois democracy and for trade union goals such as the eight-hour
day and higher wages. The German workers' councils of 1918 gave up their
momentarily-won political power in favor of the bourgeois National Assembly
and the illusory evolutionary path of German social democracy. In either case,
the workers' councils could only eliminate themselves as their organizational
form contradicted their limited political and social goals. Whereas, in Russia, it
was the objective uureadiness for a socialist revolution, in Germany it was the
subjective unwillingness to realize socialism by revolutionary means, which
accounted for the decay and, finally, the forced destruction of the council move-
ment. Nonetheless, it had been the workers' councils, not the traditional labor
organizations, which secured the success of the revolutionary upheavals how-
ever limited they proved to be. Although the workers' councils revealed that
the proletariat is quite able to evolve revolutionary instrumentalities of its OWll-
either in combination with the traditional labor organizations, or in opposition
to them-at the time of their formation they only had very vague concepts, or
none at all, of how to consolidate their power and use it in order to change soci-
ety. Thus they fell back upon the political instrumentalities of the past. rIbe
question of whether or not the council idea, as elaborated by Pannekoek, could
be understood and taken up by the workers today, is a rather strange one,
XXVlIl
IJ'..'TERVIEWS xxix
because the council idea implies no more, but also no less, than the self organ-
ization of the workers wherever and whenever this becomes an inescapable
necessity in the slrnggle for their immediate needs, or for farther-reaching
goals, which can either no longer be reached by, or are in fact opposed by, tra-
ditional labor organizations such as the trade unions and political parties. In
order to take place at all, a particular strnggle within a factory, or an industry,
and the extension of the strnggle over wider areas and larger numbers, may
require a system of workers' delegates, committees of action, or workers' coun-
cils. Such struggles mayor may not find the support of the existing labor organ-
izations. If not, they will have to be carried on independently, by the fighting
workers themselves, and imply their self-organization. Under revolutionary cir-
cumstances, this may well lead to a wide spread system of workers' councils, as
the basis for a total reorganization of the social structure. Of course, without
such a revolutionary situation, expressing a social crisis condition, the working
class will not concern itself with the wider implications of the council system,
even though it might organize itself for particular struggles by way of councils.
Pannekoek's description of the theory and practice of workers' councils relates
thus to no more than the workers' own experiences. But what they experience
they can also comprehend and, under favorable conditions, apply in their
struggle within and against the capitalist system.
lJL: How do you think book came about and in what relationship to his prac-
tice Germany or Holland}? Do you think his book and his essay on trade unionism
Living Marxism} app1:y to present-day conditions?
PM: Pannekoek wrote his book on workers' councils during the Second World
War. It was a summing-up of his life's experience of the theory and practice of
the international labor movement and of the development and transformation
of capitalism within various nations and as a whole. It ends with the temporary
triumph of a revived, though changed, capitalism, and with the utter subjuga-
tion of working class interests to the competitive needs of rival capitalist sys-
tems preparing for new imperialistic conflicts. Unlike the ruling classes, which
adapt themselves quickly to changed conditions, the working class, by still
adhering to traditional ideas and activities, finds itself in a powerless and appar-
ently hopelcss situation. And as socioeconomic changes only gradually change
ideas, it may still take considerable time before a new labor movement-fitted
to the new conditions-will arise. Although the continued existence of capital-
ism, in either its private or state-capitalist forms, proved that the expectation of
the growth of a new labor movement in the wake of the Second World War
was premature, the continued resilience of capitalism does not remove its
immanent contradictions and will therefore not release the workers from the
need to put an end to it. Of course, with capitalism still in the saddle, the old
labor organizations, parliamentary parties and trade unions, could also be
xxx WORKERS' COUNCILS
maintained. But they are already recognized, and recognize themselves, as part
and parcel of capitalism, destined to go down with the system on which their
existence depends. Long before it became an obvious fact, it was clear to
Pannekoek that the old labor movement was a historical product of the rising
capitalism, bound to this particular stage of development, wherein the question
of revolution and socialism could only be raised but not answered. At such a
time, these labor organizations were destined to degenerate into tools of capi-
talism. Socialism depended now on the rise of a new labor movement, able to
create the preconditions for proletarian self-rule. If the workers were to take
over the production process and determine the distribution of their products,
they needed, even prior to this revolutionary transformation, to function and
to organize themselves in an entirely different manner than in the past. In both
forms of organization, the parliamentary parties and the trade unions, the
workers delegate their power to special groups of leaders and organizers, who
are supposed to act on their behalf, but actually only foster their own separate
interests. The workers lost control over their own organizations. But even if
this had not been so, these organizations were totally unfit to serve as instru-
ments for either the proletarian revolution or the construction of socialism.
Parliamentary parties were a product of bourgeois society, an expression of the
political democracy of laissez-faire capitalism and only meaningful within this
context. They have no place in socialism, which is supposed to end political
strife by ending special interests and social class relations. As there is no room,
nor need for political parties in a socialist society, their future superfluity
already explains their ineffectiveness as an instrument of revolutionary change.
Trade unions, too, have no functions in socialism, which does not know of
wage relations and which organizes its production not with regard to specific
trades and industries but in accordance with social needs. As the emancipation
of the working class can only be brought about by the workers themselves,
they have to organize themselves as a class, in order to take and to hold power.
Regarding present conditions, however, which are not as yet of a revolutionary
nature, the council form of working-class activities does not directly betray its
wider-reaching revolutionary potentialities, but is a mere expression of the
accomplished integration of the traditional labor organizations into the capital-
ist system. Parliamentary parties and trade unions lose their limited effective-
ness when it is no longer possible to combine an improvement of workers' liv-
ing standards with a progressive expansion of capital. Under conditions which
preclude a sufficient capitalist accumulation, that is, under conditions of eco-
nomic crisis, the reformist activities of political parties and trade unions cease
to be operative and these organizations abstain from tlleir supposed functions,
as they would now endanger the capitalist system itself. They will rather try to
help sustain the system, up to the point of directly sabotaging the workers aspi-
rations for better living and working conditions. They will help capitalism
INTERVIEWS XXX)
overcome its crisis at the expense of the workers. In such a situation, the work-
ers, unwilling to submit to the dictates of capital, are forced to resort to activi-
ties not sanctioned by official labor organizations, to so-called wildcat strikes,
factory occupations and other form of direct actions outside the control of the
established labor organizations. These self-determined activities, with their
temporary council structure, indicate the possibility of their radical application
under arising revolutionary situations, replacing the traditional organizational
forms, which have become a hindrance for botll the struggle for immediate
needs and for revolutionary goals.
lJL: Can you give afew practical and comrete examples ifhow workers' councilsfonctioned
(in Russia, Germany, Hungary etc.), and how they dfffiredfrom traditional party or union
organizations? What are the ba.sic diJforences? How do party and council or union clash?
PM: As every strike, demonstration, occupation or other kinds of anticapital-
ist activity which ignores the official labor organizations and escapes their con-
trols, takes on the character of independent working class action, which deter-
mines its own organization and procedures, may be regarded as a council
movement; so, on a larger scale, the spontaneous organization of revolutionary
upheavals, such as occurred in Russia in 1905 and 1917, in Germany in 1918,
and later-against the state-capitalist authorities-in Hungary, Czechoslovakia
and Poland, avail themselves of workers' councils as the only form of working
class actions possible under conditions in which all established institutions and
organizations have become defenders of the status quo. These councils arise
out of necessity, but also because of the opportunity provided by the capitalist
production processes, which are already the "natural" forms of working class
activities and organization. Here the workers are "organized" as a class against
the capitalist class; the place of exploitation is also the vehicle for their resist-
ance to capitalist oppression. "Organized" by their rulers in factories, indus-
tries, armies, or in separate working-class districts, workers turned these
"organizations" into their own, by utilizing them for their independent endeav-
ors and under their own leadership. The latter was elected from their midst,
and was at all times recallable. Thus the historically evolved divergence
between the institutionalized labor organizations and the working class at large
was done away with, and the apparent contradiction between organization and
spontaneity resolved. Until now, to be sure, workers' councils have found their
limitations in the limits of spontaneous actions under unfavorable conditions.
have been the sporadic expression of sporadic movements, as yet inca-
pable of turning their potential for becoming the organizational structure of
non-exploitative relations into reality. The basic difference between the council
movement and the traditional labor organizations is, that whereas the latter
lose their functions in a decaying capitalism and have nothing to contribute to
the construction of socialism, the former not ouly become the only form of
xxxii WORKERS' COUNCILS
effective working-class actions regardless of the state in which capitalism fInds
itself, but are, at the same time, the pre-fIguration of the organizational struc-
ture of socialist society.
lJL: Do you see any similarity 6n intent, result, orform) between council communism and
present day workers' struggles in the US andkurope? Do you think any recent events indi-
cate a significant and qualitative evolution towards a diffirent type if society? Or, do you
think tlte recent outJtanding struggles (i\1ay '68, Lordstown, LIP etc) are Just more if the
same old programmed moGiernizations qfcapitalism?
PM: There is, without doubt, a connection between the recent expressions of
self-determined working-class actions, such as the French movement of May
1968, the occupation of LIP, but also the rebellions of the workers in East-
Germany, Poland and even Russia, and the "instinctive" as well as conscious
recognition that the forms of action represented by the concept and the reality
of workers' councils is the necessary requirement of workers' struggles under
prevailing conditions. Even unoffIcial strikes in the USA may be regarded as a
fIrst expression of a developing class consciousness, directing itself not only
against the obvious capitalist enemy but also against the capitalistically-inte-
grated offIcial labor movement. However, traditions are still powerful and the
institutions nourished by them constitute part of capitalism's resilience. It
seems to require far more catastrophic situations than those recently experi-
enced to release the full power of spontaneous mass actions, overrunning not
the defenders of capitalism but the system itself. In so far as recent and
forthcoming workers' struggles escaped or escape the influence and control of
the capitalist authorities, which the leadership of the offIcial labor movement
also belong to, they were and will be movements that cannot be integrated into
the capitalist system and therefore constitute real revolutionary movements.
lJL: ifnew general strikes (Juch as May (68) or other mass revolutionary movements come
up} do you think they can evolve towards workers' councils, away.from parties and unions?
How? What do you think can be done to get rid qfparties and unions which prohibit
organization and direct Glemocraq?
PM: In a general crisis of capitalism there is always the possibility that the
social movements resulting from it will go beyond the obstacles placed in their
way by traditional forms of economic and political activity, and proceed in
accordance with new necessities which include the need for effective forms of
organization. However, just as capitalism will not abdicate of its own accord,
the existing labor organizations will try their utmost to keep control of these
social movements and direct them towards goals favorable to themselves. In the
"best" case-should they fail to help secure the status quo-they will direct a
possible revolutionary upheaval into state-capitalist channels, in order to main-
tain social production relations which would not onlv allow for their further
INTERVIEWS xxxiii
existence, but would also transform their organizations into instrumentalities of
a modifIed capitalist system, and their bureaucracies into a new ruling class. In
brief, if anything at all, they would attempt to turn a potential socialist rcvolu-
tion into a state-capitalist revolution, with results such as are represented by the
so-called socialist nations. They may succeed in such endeavors, however that
is the most pressing reason for both advocating and trying to set up workers'
councils in any revolutionary situation, and for attempting to concentrate in
them all the power needed for working self-determination. Social control
through workers' councils is one future possibility among others. The proba-
bility of its realization is perhaps less than the probability of a state capitalist
transformation. But as the latter is not a solution to the problem inherent in
social exploitation relations, a possible state-capitalist revolution would merely
postpone, but not eliminate, the need for another revolution ",,-ith socialism as
its goal.
lJL: Do you think counciLJ are s t l ~ today} the basic patternfor a wmm:unirt society or must
they be updated tofit present day conditions?
PM: Communism will be a system of workers' councils or it will not exist. The
"association of free and equal producers," which determines its own production
and distribution, is thinkable only as a system of self-determination at the point
of production, and the absence of any other authority than the collective will
of the producers themselves. It means the end of the state, or any state-based
system of exploitation. It must be a planned production, without the interven-
tion of exchange relations and the vicissitudes of the market system. The reg-
ulation of the social character of production must discard fetishistic value and
price relations, and must be carried out in terms of the economy of time, with
direct labor-time as a measure of calculation, where calculation is still required.
A presupposition of such a development is the absence of a central government
with political power of its own. The central institutions of the council system
are mere enterprises among others, without a special apparatus to assert their
will outside the consent of other councils or of other enterprises. Ibe structure
of the system must be such as to combine central regulation with the self-deter-
mination of the producers. Whereas, under the conditions of underdevelop-
ment which faced the first councils after a successful political revolution (the
reference is to Russia in 1917, it was practically impossible to realize a commu-
nist society based on workers' councils; the prevailing conditions in the devel-
oped capitalist nations allow much more for the actualization of socialism via
the council system. It is precisely the more advanced form of capitalism, with
its advanced technology, high productivity, and network of communication,
which offers a material base for the establishment of communism based on a
system of workers' councils. The council idea is not a thing of the past, but the
most realistic proposition for the establishment of a socialist society. Nothing
xxxiv WORKERS' COUNCILS
which has evolved during the last decades has robbed it of its feasibility; on the
contrary, it has merely substantiated the non-utopian character of the workers'
councils and the probability of the emergence of a truly communist society.
Notes onJJ. Lebel and Paul Mattick Interview
1. This interview was given in February 1975. It was never published. Initially it was
aimed to be part of a radio program on workers' councils which never went on the air. A
French translation was added to the second French edition of Workers' Councils
waaKEaS:I
(Spartacus, November 1982). Reprinted from Vol. 4 "Workers Councils"-Anton
Pannekock (ECHANGES), where it appeared as an appendix
l:aUNl:lLS
..i
PREFACE
Anton Pannekoek's original Dutch text was undertaken in 1941 during the
occupation of Holland by the Germans, and completed after the War, in 1946.
It was published in Dutch in 1946 and then translated by the author, with some
modifications and additions, for serial publication from 1947-49 in the
Australian monthly Southern Advocatefir U'Orkers' CounaIL The book form of the
English language version was used as the basis of the present text, although
some minor corrections have been made to improve readability. I wish to thank
Rachael Rakes, Jeff Rector, John Yates and the members of the AK Press for
their devotion and excellent
Robert F. Barsky
3
I
I. The Task
1. LABOR
In the present and coming times, now that Europe is devastated and
mankind is impoverished by world war, it impends upon the workers of the
world to organize industry, in order to free themselves from want and exploita-
tion. It will be their task to take into their own hands the management of the
production of goods. To accomplish this great and difficult work, it will be nec-
essary to fully recognize the present character of labor. The better their knowl-
edge of society and of the position of labor in it, the less difficulties, disap-
pointments and setbacks they will encounter in this striving.
The basis of society is the production of all goods necessary to life. This
production, for the most important part, takes place by means of highly devel-
oped technics in large factories and plants by complicated machines. This
development of technics, from small tools that could be handled by one man,
to big machines handled by large collectives of workers of different kind, took
place in the last centuries. Though small tools are still used as accessories, and
small shops are still numerous, they hardly playa role in the bulk of the pro-
duction.
Each factory is an organization carefully adapted to its aims; an organiza-
tion of dead as well as of living forces, of instruments and workers. The forms
and the character of this organization are determined by the aims it has to
serve. What are these aims?
In the present time, production is dominated by capital. The capitalist, pos-
sessor of money, founded the factory, bought the machines and the raw mate-
rials, hires the workers and makes them produce goods that can be sold. That
is, he buys the labor power of the workers, to be spent in their daily task, and
he pays to them its value, the wages by which they can procure what they need
to live and to continually restore their labor power. The value a worker creates
in his daily work in adding it to the value of the raw materials, is larger than
what he needs for his living and receives for his labor power. The difference
that the capitalist gets in his hands when the product is sold, the surplus-value,
forms his profit, which, in so far as it is not consumed, is accumulated into new
5
6 WORKERS' COUNCILS
capital. The labor power of the working class thus may be compared with an
ore mine, that in exploitation gives out a produce exceeding the cost bestowed
on it. Hence the teml exploitation of labor by capitaL Capital itself is the prod-
uct of labor; its bulk is accumulated surplus-value.
Capital is master of production; it has the factory, the machines, the pro-
duced goods; the workers' work at its command; its aims dominate the work
and determine the character of the organization. The aim of capital is to make
profit. The capitalist is not driven by the desire to provide his fellow-men with
the necessities of life; he is driven by the necessity of making money. If he has
a shoe factory he is not animated by compassion for the painful feet of other
people; he is animated by the knowledge that his enterprise must yield profit
and that he will go bankrupt if his profits are insufficient. Of course, the nor-
mal way to make profit is to produce goods that can be sold at a good price,
and they can be sold, normally, only when they are necessary and practical
consumption-goods for the buyers. So the shoemaker, to produce profits for
himself, has to produce well-fitting shoes, better or cheaper shoes than others
make. Thus, normally, capitalist production succeeds in what should be the
aim of production, to provide mankind with its life necessities. But the many
cases, where it is more profitable to produce superfluous luxuries for the rich
or trash for the poor, or to sell the whole plant to a competitor who may close
show that the primary object of present production is profit for the capital.
This object determines the character of the organization the work in the
shop. First it establishes the command by one absolute master. Ifhe is the
owner himself, he has to take care that he does not lose his capital; on the con-
trary he must increase it. His interest dominates the work; the workers are his
"hands," and they have to obey. It determines his part and his function in the
work. Should the workers complain of their long hours and fatiguing work, he
points to his task and his solicitudes that keep him busy till late in the night
after dley have gone home without concerning themselves any more. He for-
gets to tell, what he hardly understands himself, that all his often strenuOUS
work, all his worry that keeps him awake at night, serves only the profit, not
the production itself. It deals wiili the problems of how to sell his products, how
to outrival his competitors, how to bring ilie largest possible part of the total
surplus-value, into his own coffers. His work is not a productive work; his
exertions in fighting his competitors are useless for society. But he is the mas-
ter and his aims direct the shop.
If he is an appointed director he knows iliat he is appointed toproduce prof-
it for the shareholders. If he does not manage to do so, he is dismissed and
replaced by anoilier man. Of course, he must be a good expert, he must under-
stand the technics of his branch, to be able to direct the work of production.
But still more he must be expert in profit-making. In the first place he must
understand the technics of increasing the net-profit, by finding out how to pro-
THE TASK 7
duce at least cost, how to sell with most success and how to beat his rivals. This
every director knows. It determines the management or business. It also deter-
mines the organization within the shop.
The organization of the production within dle shop is conducted along two
lines, of technical and of commercial organization. The rapid development of
technics in the last century, based upon a wonderful growth of science, has
improved the methods of work in every branch. Better technics is the best
weapon in competition, because it secures extra profit at the cost of the rivals.
This development increased ilie productivity oflabor, it made the goods for use
and consumption cheaper, more abundant and more varied, it increased the
means of comfort, and, by lowering the cost of living, i.e., the value of labor
power, enormously raised the profit of capital. This high stage of technical
development brought into the factory a rapidly increasing number of experts,
engineers, chemists, physicists, well versed by their training at universities and
laboratories in science. They are necessary to direct the intricate technical
processes, and to improve them by regular application of new scientific discov-
eries. Under their supervision act skilled technicians and workers. So ilie tech-
nical organization shows a carefully regulated collaboration of various kinds of
workers, a small number of university-trained specialists, a larger number of
qualified professionals and skilled workers, besides a great mass of unskilled
workers to do the manual work. Their combined efforts are needed to run ilie
machines and to produce the goods.
The commercial organization has to conduct the sale of the product. It stud-
ies markets and prices, it advertises, it trains agents to stimulate buying. It
includes the so-called scientific management, to cut down costs by distributing
men and means; it devises incentives to stimulate the workers to more strenu-
ous efforts; it turns advertising into a kind of science taught even at universi-
ties. It is not less, it is even more important ilian technics to the capitalist mas-
ters; it is the chief weapon in their mutual fight. From ilie view-point of pro-
viding society with its life necessities, however, it is an entirely useless waste of
capacities.
But also the forms of technical organization are determined by the same
motive of profit. Hence the strict limitation of ilie better paid scientific experts
to a small number, combined with a mass of cheap unskilled labor. Hence the
structure of society at large, with its low pay and poor education for the mass-
es, with its higher pay-so much as higher education demands for ilie constant
filling of the ranks-for a scientifically trained minority.
These technical officials have not only ilie care of the technical processes of
production. Under capitalism iliey have also to act as taskmasters of ilie work-
ers. Because under capitalism production of goods is inseparably connected
with production of profit, boili being one and the same action, the two charac-
ters of ilie shop-officials, of a scientific leader of production and of a com-
J
9
8 WORKERS' COUNCILS
mandinghelper ofexploitation, are intimately combined. So their position is
ambiguous. Onthe onehand they are the collaborators ofthe manualwork-
ers, bytheir scientificknowledgedirectingtheprocessoftransformationofthe
materials,bytheirskillincreasingtheprofits,theyalsoareexploitedbycapital.
Onthe otherhand they are the underlings ofcapital, appointed to hustle the
workers and to assist the capitalistinexploitingthem.
It mayseemthatnoteverywheretheworkersare thus exploitedbycapital.
Inpublic-utilityenterprises,forinstance,orinco-operativefactories.Evenifwe
leaveasidethefact thattheformer, bytheirprofit,oftenmustcontributetothe
publicfunds, thusrelievingthetaxesofthepropertiedclass, thedifferencewith
otherbusinessis notessential.As aruleco-operativeshavetocompetewithpri-
vate enterprises; and public utilities arc controlled by the capitalist public by
attentive criticism. The usually borrowed capital needed in the business
demands its interest, outoftheprofits. As inotherenterprises thereis theper-
sonal command ofa director and the forcing up ofthe tempo ofthe work.
Thereis the same exploitation as in everycapitalist enterprise. Theremaybe
adifference indegree;partofwhatotherwi.seis profitmaybeusedtoincrease
thewages andto improve the conditions oflabor. Buta limit is soonreached.
In this respect they may be compared with private model enterprises where
sensible broad-minded directors try to attachthe workers bybetter treatment,
givingthemtheimpressionofaprivilegedposition, andso arerewardedby
abetteroutputandincreasedprofit. Butitis outofthequestionthatthework-
ers here, or in public utilities or co-operatives, should consider themselves as
servants ofa community, to which to devote all their energy. Directors and
workersarelivinginthesocialsurroundingsandthefeelings oftheirrespective
classes. Laborhas herethesamecapitalistcharacteras elsewhere;itconstitutes
its deeper essentialnature underthe superficialdifferences ofsomewhatbettcr
orworseconditions.
Laborundercapitalisminits essentialnatureis asystemofsqueezing.The
workers mustbedrivento the utmostexertionoftheirpowers, either byhard
constraint or by the kinder arts ofpersuasion. Capital itselfis in a constraint;
ifit cannot compete, ifthe profits are inadequate, the business will collapse.
Against this pressurethe workers defend themselves bya continualinstinctive
resistance.If not,iftheywillinglyshould giveway, morethantheirdailylabor
powerwouldbetakenfrom them.Itwouldbeanencroachingupontheirfunds
ofbodilypower, their vital power would be exhausted before its time, as to
someextentis thecasenow;degeneration, annihilationofhealthandstrength,
ofthemselves and their offspring, would be the result. So resist they must.
Thuseveryshop, everyenterprise, evenoutsidethe times ofsharpconflict, of
strikes or wage reductions, is thescene ofa constantsilentwar, ofaperpetual
struggle, ofpressure and counter-pressure. Rising and falling under its influ-
ence,acertainnormofwages,hoursandtempooflaborestablishesitself,keep-
THE TASK
ingthemjustatthe limitofwhatis tolerable andintolerable (ifintolerablethe
totalofproductionis effected). Hence the two classes, workers and capitalists,
whilehavingtoputupwith eachotherinthedailycourse ofwork, in deepest
essence, bytheiropposite interests, are implacable foes, livingwhennotfight-
ing, inalandofarmedpeace.
Labor in itselfis not repulsive. Labor for the supplying ofhis needs is a
necessity imposed onman bynature. Like all otherliving beings, manhas to
exerthis forces to providefor his food. Naturehas given thembodily organs
and mental powers, muscles, nerves and brains, to conform to this necessity.
Theirwants and theirmeans are harmoniouslyadapted to oneanother inthe
regularlivingoftheirlife. Solabor, as thenormaluseoftheirlimbs andcapac-
ities, is a normalimpulsefor man andanimalalike. In the necessityofprovid-
ingfood andshelterthereis, to be sure, andementofconstraint.Freesponta-
neousnessintheuseofmusclesandnerves, all intheirturn,infollowingevery
whim, inwork orplay, lies atthe bottomofhumannature. Theconstraint of
his needs compels manto regular work, to suppression ofthe impulse ofthe
moment, to exertion ofhis powers, to patientperseverance and self-restraint.
Butthis self-restraint, necessary as it is for the preservation ofoneself, ofthe
family, ofthecommunity, affords the satisfactionofvanquishingimpediments
in himselfor the surroundingworld, andgives the proudfeeling ofreaching
self-imposed aims. Fixedby its socialcharacter,bypracticeandcustominfam-
ily, tribeorvillage,thehabitof regularworkgrowsintoanewnatureitself,into
a naturalmodeoflife, aharmoniousunityofneeds andpowers, ofduties and
disposition.Thusinfarmingthesurroundingnatureis transformedintoa safe
homethroughalifelongheavyorplacid toil. Thusin everypeople, eachinits
individualway, theoldhandicraftgaveto theartisans thejoyofapplyingtheir
skill andfantasy in the makingofgoodandbeautiful things for use.
Allthis hasperishedsincecapitalbecamemasteroflabor.Inproductionfor
the market, for sale, the goods are commodities whichbesides their utilityfor
the buyer, have exchange-value, embodying the labor implemented; this
exchange-value determines the money theybring. Formerly aworkerinmod-
erate hours-leaving room for occasional strong exertion-could produce
enoughfor his living. But the profitofcapitalconsists inwhat the worker can
produce insurplus to his living. TIle more valueheproduces and theless the
value ofwhat he consumes, the larger is the surplus-value seized by capital.
Hencehislife-necessities arereduced, his standardof lifeis loweredas muchas
possible, his hours are increased, the tempo ofhis work is accelerated. Now
labor loses entirely its old character ofpleasant use ofbody and limbs. Now
labor turns into a curse and an outrage. And this remains its true character,
howevermitigatedbysociallaws andbytrade-unionaction, bothresultsofthe
desperateresistanceoftheworkersagainsttheirunbearabledegradation.What
theymayattainis to turncapitalismfromarudeabuse into anormalexploita-
10 WORKERS' COUNCILS
THE TASK 11
tion. Still then labor, being labor under capitalism, keeps its innermost charac-
ter of inhuman toil: the workers compelled by the threat of hunger to strain
their forces at foreign command, for foreign profit, without genuine interest, in
the monotonous fabrication of uninteresting or bad things, driven to the utmost
of what the overworked body can sustain, are used up at an early age. Ignorant
economists, unacquainted with the nature of capitalism, seeing the strong aver-
sion of the workers from their work, conclude that productive work, by its very
nature, is repulsive to man, and must be imposed on unwilling mankind by
strong means of constraint.
Of course, this character of their work is not always consciously felt by the
workers. Sometimes the original nature of work, as an impulsive eagerness of
action, giving contentment, asserts itself. Especially in young people, kept
rant of capitalism and full of ambition to show their capacities as first-rate
workers, feeling themselves moreover possessor of an inexhaustible
labor-power. Capitalism has its well-advised ways of exploiting this disposition.
Afterwards, with the growing solicitudes and duties for the family, the worker
feels caught between the pressure of the constraint and the limit of his powers,
as in tightening fetters he is unable to throw off. And at last, feeling his forces
decay at an age that for middle-class man is the time of full and matured power,
he has to suffer exploitation in tacit resignation, in continuous fear of being
thrown away as a worn-out tool.
Bad and damnable as work under capitalism may be, still worse is the lack
of work. Like every commodity, labor-power sometimes finds no buyer. The
problematic liberty of the worker to choose his master goes hand in hand with
the liberty of the capitalist to engage or to dismiss his workers. In the continu-
ous development of capitalism, in the founding of new enterprises and the
decline or collapse of old ones, the workers are driven to and fro, are accumu-
lated here, dismissed there. So they must consider it good luck even, when they
are allowed to let themselves be exploited. Then they perceive that they are at
the mercy of capitaL That only with the consent of the masters they have access
to the machines that wait for their handling.
Unemployment is the worst scourge of the working class under capitalism.
It is inherent in capitalism. As an ever returning feature it accompanies the peri-
odical crises and depressions, which during the entire reign of capitalism rav-
aged society at regular intervals. They are a consequence of the anarchy of cap-
italist production. Each capitalist as an independent master of his enterprise is
free to manage it at his will, to produce what he thinks profitable or to close
the shop when profits are failing. Contrary to the careful organization within
the factory there is a complete lack of organization in the totality of social pro-
duction. The rapid increase of capital through the accumulated profits, the
necessity to find profits also for the new capital, urges a rapid increase of pro-
duction flooding the market with unsaleablc goods. Then comes the collapse,
reducing not only the profits and destroying the superfluous capital, but also
turning the accumulated hosts of workers out of the factories, throwing them
upon their own resources or on meagre charity. Then wages are lowered,
strikes are ineffective, the mass of the unemployed presses as a heavy weight
upon the working conditions. VVhat has been gained by hard fight in times of
prosperity is often lost in tinles of depression. Unemployment was always the
chief impediment to a continuous raising of the life standard of the working
class.
There have been economists alleging that by the modern development of
business this pernicious alternation of crises and prosperity would disap-
pear. They expected that cartels and trusts, monopolizing as they do large
branches of industry, would bring a certain amount of organization into the
anarchy of production and smooth its irregularities. They did not take into
account that the primary cause, the yearning for profit, remains, driving the
organized groups into a fiercer competition, now with mightier forces. The
incapacity of modern capitalism to cope with its anarchy was shown in a grim
light by the world crisis of 1930. During a number of long years production
seemed to have definitely collapsed. Over the whole world millions of workers,
of farmers, even of intellectuals were reduced to living on the doles, which the
governments by necessity, had to provide: From this crisis of production the
present war crisis took its origin.
In this crisis the true character of capitalism and the impossibility to main-
tain it, was shown to mankind as in a searchlight. There were the millions of
people lacking the means to provide for their life necessities. There were the
millions of workers with strong arms, eager to work; there were the machines
in thousands of shops, ready to whirl and to produce an abundance of goods.
But it was not allowed. The capitalist ownership of the means of production
stood between the workers and the machines. This ownership, affinned if nec-
essary by the power of police and State, forbade the workers to touch the
machines and to produce all that they themselves and society needed for their
existence. The machines had to stand and rust, the workers had to hang
around and suHer want. VVhy? Because capitalism is unable to manage the
mighty technical and productive powers of mankind to conform to their origi-
nal aim, to provide for the needs of society.
To be sure, capitalism now is trying to introduce some sort of organization
and planned production. Its insatiable profit-hunger cannot be satisfied within
the old realms; it is driven to expand over the world, to seize the riches, to open
the markets, to subject the peoples of other continents. In a fierce competition
each of the capitalist groups must try to conquer or to keep to themselves the
richest portions of the world. VVhereas the capitalist class in England, France,
Holland made easy profits by the exploitation of rich colonies, conquered in
former wars, German capitalism with its energy, its capacities, its rapid devel-
--l
I
12 WORKERS' COUNCILS
opment,thathadcometoolateinthedivisionofthecolonialworld,couldonly
getits sharebystrivingfor world-power, bypreparingforworld-war. Ithadto
bethe aggressor, the others were the defenders. So itwas the first to putinto
actionandto organize all thepowers ofsocietyfor this purpose; andthenthe
othershad to follow its example.
In this strugglefor life betweenthebigcapitalistpowers theinefficiency of
private capitalism couldno longerbe allowed to persist. Unemploymentnow
was a foolish, nay, a criminal waste ofbadly needed manpower. A strict and
careful organizationhad to secure the full use ofall the labor powerand the
fighting power ofthe nation. Now the untenabilityofcapitalismshowed itself
as grimlyfrom anotherside.Unemploymentwasnowturnedintoits oppo-
site,intocompulsorylabor. Compulsorytoil andfightingatthefrontierswhere
the millions ofstrong young men, by the most refined means ofdestruction
mutilate, kill, exterminate, "wipeout" each other, for theworld-power oftheir
capitalistmasters. Compulsorylaborinthefactories whereall therest,women
andchildrenincluded,areassiduouslyproducingevermoreoftheseenginesof
murder; whereas the production of the life necessities is constricted to the
utmost minimum. Shortage and want in everything needed for life and the
fallingbackto thepoorestandugliestbarbarismis the outcomeofthehighest
development ofscience and technics, is the glorious fruit ofthe thinkingand
workingofso many generations! Why?Becausenotwithstandingall delusive
talk about community andfellowship, organized capitalism, too, is unable to
handle the rich productive powers ofmankind to their true purpose, using
theminsteadfor destruction.
Thustheworkingclass is confrontedwith the necessity ofitselftakingthe
production in hand. The mastery over the machines, over the means ofpro-
duction,mustbetakenoutoftheunworthyhandsthatabuse them.Thisis the
commoncause ofall producers, ofallwhodotherealproductiveworkinsoci-
ety, the workers, the technicians, the farmers. Butitis the workers, chiefand
permanentsufferers from the capitalist system, and moreover, majority ofthe
population, onwhomit impends to free themselves and the world from this
scourge. Theymustmanage the means ofproduction. Theymustbemasters
of the factories, masters oftheir own labor, to conduct it at their ownmill.
Thenthe machines will beputto their trueuse, the production ofabundance
ofgoods, to providefor thelife necessities ofall.
This is the task ofthe workers inthe days to come. Thisis the only road
to freedom, this is therevolution forwhichsocietyis ripening. Bysucharevo-
lutionthecharacterofproductionis entirelyreversed;newprincipleswillform
the basis ofsociety. First, because the exploitationceases. Theproduce ofthe
common labor will belong to all those who take part in the work. No sur-
plus-value to capital anymore; ended is theclaim ofsuperfluous capitalists to
a partoftheproduce.
THE'D\SK 13
Moreimportantstill thanthe cessationoftheir sharein theproduceis the
cessationoftheircommandovertheproduction.Oncetheworkersaremasters
over the shops, the capitalists lose their power of leaving in disuse the
machines, these riches ofmankind,precious productofthe mentalandmanu-
al exertionofso many generations ofworkers and thinkers. Withthe capital-
ists disappearstheirpowerto dictatewhatsuperfluousluxuriesorwhatrubbish
shallbeproduced. Whenthe workers have commandover the machines they
will applythemfor theproductionofall thatthelife ofsocietyrequires.
This will be possible only by combining all the factories, as the separate
members ofone body, into a well organized system ofproduction. Thecon-
nection that under capitalism is the fortuitous outcome ofblind competition
andmarketing, dependingonpurchaseandsale,is thentheobjectofconscious
planning.Then,insteadofthepartialandimperfectattemptsatorganizationof
modem capitalism, that only lead to fiercer fight and destruction, comes the
perfect organization ofproduction, growinginto a world-wide system ofcol-
laboration. For the producing classes cannot be competitors, only collabora-
tors.
Thesethreecharacteristics ofthe new productionmeana newworld. The
cessation ofthe profitfor capital, the cessationofunemployment ofmachines
andmen, theconscious adequateregulationofproduction, theincrease ofthe
producethroughefficientorganization,givetoeachworkeralargerquantityof
productwith less labor. Now theway is opened for a further development of
productivity. By the application of all technical progress the produce will
increase in such a degree that abundance for all will bejoined to the disap-
pearanceoftoil.
2. LAW AND PROPERTY
Such a change in the system oflabor implies a change ofLaw. Not, of
course, thatnewlaws mustfirst beenactedbyParliamentorCongress. Itcon-
cerns changes inthe depthofsociety [in the customs andpractice ofsociety],
far beyondthereachofsuchtemporarythings as Parliamentaryacts. Itrelates
to thefundamentallaws, notofonecountryonly, butofhumansociety,found-
edonman's convictions ofRightandJustice.
These laws are not immutable. To be sure, the ruling classes at all times
have tried to perpetuate the existing Law by proclaiming that it is based on
nature,founded ontheeternalrightsofman,orsanctifiedbyreligion.This,for
the sakeofupholdingtheirprerogatives and doomingthe exploitedclasses to
perpetualslavery. Historicalevidence, onthe contrary, shows thatlawcontin-
uallychanged inline withthechangingfeelings ofrightandwrong.
The sense ofright andwrong, the consciousness ofjustice inmen, is not
accidental. Itgrows up, irresistibly, bynature, outofwhat theyexperience as
J
14 WORKERS' COUNCILS
the fundamental conditions oftheirlife. Societymust live; so the relations of
menmustberegulated in sucha way-itis this thatlaw provides for-that the
production oflife-necessities maygo onunimpeded. Rightis whatis essential-
lygoodandnecessaryforlife. Notonlyusefulforthemoment,butneededgen-
erally; notfor thelife ofsingleindividuals,butforpeopleatlarge,forthe com-
notfor personalortemporalinterests,butforthecommonandlasting
weal. If the life-conditions change, ifthe system ofproduction develops into
newfomis, the relations between menchange, theirfeeling ofwhatis rightor
wrongchanges withthem, andthelawhas to bealtered.
Thisis seenmostclearlyinthelaws regulatingtherightofproperty.In the
originalsavageandbarbarianstatethelandwas consideredasbelongingto the
tribe thatlived onit, huntingorpasturing. Expressedinourterms,we should
say that the land was commonproperty ofthe tribe thatused itfor its living
and defended it against other tribes. The self-made weapons and tools were
accessoriesoftheindividual,hencewerea kindofprivateproperty,thoughnot
inourconscious andexclusivesenseofthisword,inconsequenceofthestrong
mutualbonds amongstthe tribesmen. Notlaws, butuseandcustomregulated
theirmutualrelations.Suchprimitivepeoples,evenagriculturalpeoplesinlater
times (as the Russian peasants ofbefore 1860) could notconceive the idea of
ownershipofa tractofland,justas wecannotconceive theideaofpri-
vate ownership ofa quantumofair.
These regulations had to change when the tribes settled and expanded,
cleared the forests and dissolvedinto separate individuals (i.e., families), each
a separate lot. They changed still more when handicraft separated
from agriculture, when from the casual work ofall, it became the continual
work ofsome; when the products became commodities, to be sold inregular
commerceandto beconsumedbyothers than the producers. Itis quite natu-
ral thatthe farmerwhoworked a piece ofland,whoimprovedit, whodidhis
workathis ownwill, withoutinterferencefromothers,hadthefree disposalof
the land and the tools; that the produce was his; thatland and producewere
his property. Restrictions mightbeneededfor defense, inmediaeval times, in
theformofpossiblefeudalobligations.Itis quitenaturalthattheartisan,as the
onlyonewhohandledhis tools, hadthe exclusive disposalofthem. as well as
ofthe things hemade; thathewas the sole owner.
Thusprivateownershipbecame thefundamentallawofa societyfounded
onsmall-scaleworking-units.Withoutbeingexpresslyformulated itwas felt as
a necessary right that whoever exclusively handled the tools, the land, the
product,mustbemasterofthem, musthave thefree disposalofthem. Private
ownershipofthemeans ofproductionbelongs as its necessaryjuridical
ute to small trade.
It remainedso,whencapitalismcame tobemasterofindustry.Itwaseven
more consciously expressed, and the French Revolution proclaimed
THETASK 15
equalityandpropertythefundamentalRightsofthecitizen.Itwasprivateown-
ership of the means of production simply applied, when, instead of some
apprentices, the master-craftsman hired a larger number ofservants to assist
him, to workwithhis tools andto makeproducts for himto selL Bymeans of
exploiting the labor-power ofthe workers, the factories andmachines, as pri-
vate property of the capitalist, became the source of an immense and ever
growingincreaseofcapital. Hereprivateownershipperformedanewfunction
insociety.As capitalistownershipitascertainedpowerandincreasingwealthto
the newrulingclass, thecapitalists, and enabledthem stronglyto develop the
productivity oflabor andto expand their rule over the earth. So thisjuridical
institute,notwithstandingthedegradationandmiseryoftheexploitedworkers,
was felt as a good and beneficent, even necessary institution, promising an
unlimitedprogress ofsociety.
'Ibis development, however, gradually changed the inner character ofthe
social system. And thereby again the function ofprivate ownership changed.
With the joint-stock companies the twofold character of the capitalist facto-
ry-owner, that of directing the production and that of pocketing the
surplus-value, is splitting up. Labor and property, in olden times intimatd
connected, arenowseparated. Ownersaretheshareholders,livingoutside
process ofproduction,idlingindistantcountry-houses andmaybegamblingat
theexchange.Ashareholderhasnodirectconnectionwiththework.Hisprop-
ertydoes notconsistintools for himto workwith; his propertyconsists sim-
plyinpiecesofpaper, insharesofenterprisesofwhichhedoes notevenknow
the whereabouts. His function in society is that ofa parasite. His ownership
does notmeanthathecommandsanddirectsthemachines;this is thesoleright
ofthe director. It means only that he may claim a certain amount ofmoney
withouthavingtowork it. Thepropertyinhand,his shares,arccertificates
showinghis right-guaranteedbylawandgovernment,bycourtsandpolice-to
participate in the profits; titles of companionship in that large Society for
Exploitationofthe World, thatis capitalism.
Theworkinthefactories goes onquite apartfrom theshareholders. Here
the director and the staffhave the care all day, to regulate, to run about, to
think ofeverything, the workers are working and toiling from morning till
evening, hurriedandabused. Everybodyhas to exerthimselftotheutmostto
rendertheoutputas large as possible. Butthe product oftheir commonwork
is not for those who didthe work.Just as in olden times burgesses were ran-
sackedbygangs ofwaysiderobbers, so nowpcopleentirelyforeign to the pro-
ductioncomeforward and, onthe creditoftheir papers (as registered owners
ofshare scrip), seize the chiefpartoftheproduce. Notviolently; withouthav-
ingtomoveas muchas afingertheyfrnditputontheirbarlkingaccount,auto-
matically. Onlya poorwage ora moderate salaryis leftfor thosewho togeth-
er did the workofproduction; all therestis dividendtakenbythesharehold-
J
16 WORKERS' COUNCILS
ers. Is this madness? It is the new function of private ownership of the means
of production. It is simply the praxis of old inherited law, applied to the new
forms of labor to which it does no longer fit.
Here we see how the social function of a juridical institute, in consequence
of the gradual change of the forms of production, turns into the very reverse
of its original aim. Private ownership, originally a means to give everybody the
possibility of productive work, now has turned into the means to prevent the
workers from the free use of the instruments of production. Originally a means
to ascertain to the workers the fruits of their labor, it now turned into a means
to deprive the workers of the fruits of their labor, for the benefit of a class
useless parasites.
How is it, then, that such obsolete law still holds sway over society? First,
because the numerous middle-class and small-business people, the farmer and
independent artisans cling to it, in the belief that it assures them their small
property and their living; but with the result that often, with their mortgaged
holdings, they are the victims of usury and bank-capital. When saying: I am
my own master, they mean: I have not to obey a foreign master; community in
work as collaborating equals lies far outside their imagination. Secondly and
chiefly, however, because the power of the State, with its police and military
upholds old law for the benefit of the ruling class, the capitalists.
In the working class, now, the consciousness of this contradiction is arising
as a new sense of Right andJustice. The old right, through the development of
small trade into big business, has turned into wrong, and it is felt as a wrong.
It contradicts the obvious rule that those who do dIe work and handle the
equipment must dispose of it in order to arrange and execute the work in the
best way. The small tool, the small lot could be handled and worked by a sin-
gle person with his family. So that person had dIe disposal of it, was the owner.
The big machines, the factories, the large enterprises can only be handled and
worked by an organized body of workers, a community of collaborating forces.
So this body, the community, must have the disposal of it, in order to arrange
the work according to their common will. TItis common ownership does not
mean an ownership in the old sense of the word, as the right of using or mis-
using at will. Each enterprise but part, the total productive apparatus of soci-
ety; so the right of each body or community of producers is limited by the
superior right of society, and has to be carried out in regular connection with
the others.
Common ownership must not be confounded with public ownership. In
public ownership, often advocated by notable social reformers, the State or
anodIer political body is master of the production. The workers are not mas-
ters of dIeir work, they are commanded by the State officials, who are leading
and directing dIe production. Whatever may be the conditions of labor, how-
ever human and considerate the treatment, dIe fundamental is that not the
THE TASK 17
workers themselves, but the officials dispose of the means of production, dis-
pose of the product, manage the entire process, decide what part of dIe produce
shall be reserved for innovations, for wear, for improvements, for social expens-
es, what part has to fall to the workers, what part to themselves. In short, the
workers still receive wages, a share of the product determined by the masters.
Under public ownership of the means of production, the workers are still sub-
jected to and exploited by a ruling class. Public ownership is a middle-class pro-
gram of a modernized and disguised form of capitalism. Common ownership
by the producers can be the only goal of the working class.
Thus the revolution of the system of production is intimately bound up
with a revolution of Law. It is based on a change in the deepest convictions of
Right and Justice. Each production-system consists of the application of a cer-
tain technique, combined with a certain Law regulating the relations of men in
their work, fixing their rights and duties. The technics of small tools combined
with private ownership means a society of free and equal competing small pro-
ducers. The technics of big machines combined with private ownership, means
capitalism. The technics of big machines, combined with common ownership,
means a free collaborating humanity. Thus capitalism is an intermediate sys-
tem, a transitional form resulting from the application of the old Law to the
new technics. While the technical development enormously increased the pow-
ers of man, the inherited law that regulated the use of these powers subsisted
nearly unchanged. No wonder that it proved inadequate, and that society fell
to such distress. This is the deepest sense of the present world crisis. Mankind
simply neglected in time to adapt its old law to its new technical powers.
Therefore it now suffers ruin and destruction.
'lechnique is a given power. To be sure, its rapid development is the work
of man, the natural result of thinking over the work, of experience and exper-
iment, of exertion and competition. But once established, its application is auto-
matic, outside our free choice, imposed like a given force of nature. We cannot
go back, as poets have wished, to dIe general use of th.e small tools of our fore-
fathers. Law, on the other hand, must be instituted by man with conscious
design. Such as it is established, it determines freedom or slavery of man
towards man and towards his technical equipment.
When inherited law, in consequence of the silent growth of technics, has
turned into a means of exploitation and oppression, it becomes an object of
contest between the social classes, the exploiting and the exploited class. So
long as dIe exploited class dutifully acknowledges existing law as Right and
Justice, so long its exploitation remains lawful and unchallenged. When dIen
gradually in the masses arises a growing consciousness of their exploitation, at
the same time new conceptions of Right awaken in them. With the growing
feeling that existing law is contrary of justice, their will is roused to change it
and to make their convictions of right and justice dIe law of society. This means
18 WORKERS' COUNCILS
that the sense of being wronged is not sufficient. Only when in great masses of
the workers this sense grows into such clear and deep convictions of Right that
they permeate the entire being, filling it with a firm determination and a fiery
enthusiasm, they will be able to develop the powers needed for revolving the
social structure. Even then this will be only the preliminary condition. A heavy
and lengthy struggle to overcome the resistance of the capitalist class defending
its rule with the utmost power, will be needed to establish the new order.
3. SHOP ORGANIZATION
Thus the idea of their common ownership of the means of production is
begilming to take hold of the minds of the workers. Once they feel the new
order, their own mastery over labor to be a matter of necessity and of justice,
all their thoughts and all their actions will be consecrated to its realization.
They know that it cannot be done at once; a long period of fight will be
unavoidable. To break the stubborn resistance of the ruling classes the workers
will have to exert their utmost forces. All the powers of mind and character, of
organization and knowledge, which they are capable of mustering must be
developed. And first of all they have to make clear to themselves what it is they
aim at, what this new order means.
Man, when he has to do a work, first conceives it in his mind as a plan, as
a more or less conscious design. This distinguishes the actions of man from the
instinctive actions of animals. This also holds, in principle, for the common
struggles, the revolutionary action of social classes. Not entirely, to be sure;
there is a deal of unpremeditated spontaneous impulse in their outbursts
of passionate revolt. The fighting workers are not an army conducted after a
neatly conceived plan of action by a staff of able leaders. They are a
gradually rising out of submissiveness and ignorance, gradually coming to con-
sciousness of tlleir exploitation, again and again driven to fight for better liv-
conditions, by degrees developing their powers. New feelings spring up in
their hearts, new thoughts arise in their heads, how the world might and should
be. New wishes, new ideals, new aims fill their mind and direct their will and
action. Their aims gradually take a more concise shape. From the simple strife
for better working conditions, in the beginning, they grow into the idea of a
fundamental reorganization of society. For several generations already the ideal
of a world without exploitation and oppression has taken hold of the minds of
the workers. Nowadays the conception of the workers themselves master of the
means of production, themselves directing their labor, arises ever more strong-
in their minds.
This new organization of labor we have to investigate and to clarify to our-
selves and to one another, devoting to it the best powers of our mind. We can-
not devise it as a fantasy; we derive it from the real conditions and needs of
THE TASK 19
present work and present workers. It cannot, of course, be depicted in
we do not know the future conditions that will determine its precise forms.
Those forms will take shape in the minds of the workers then facing the task.
We must content ourselves for the present to trace the general outlines only, the
leading ideas that will direct the actions of the working class. They will be as
the guiding stars that in all the vicissitudes of victory and adversity in fight, of
success and failure in organization, keep the eyes steadily directed towards the
great goal. They must be elucidated not by minute descriptions of detail, but
chiefly by comparing the principles of the new world with tlle known forms of
existing organizations.
When the workers seize the factories to organize the work an immensity of
new and difficult problems arises before them. But they dispose of an immen-
sity of new powers also. A new system of production never is an artificial struc-
ture erected at will. It arises as an irresistible process of nature, as a convulsion
moving society in its deepest entrails, evoking the mightiest forces and passions
in man. It is the result of a tenacious and probably long class struggle. The
forces required for construction can develop and grow up in this fight only.
What are the foundations of the new society? They are the social forces of
fellowship and solidarity, of discipline and enthusiasm, the moral forces of
self-sacrifice and devotion to the community, the spiritual forces of knowledge,
of courage and perseverance, tlle finn organization that binds all these forces
into a unity of purpose, all of them are the outcome of the class fight.
cannot purposely be prepared in advance. Their first traces arise spontaneous-
ly in tlle workers out of their common exploitation; and tllen they grow inces-
through the necessities of the fight, under the influence of experience
and of mutual inducement and instruction. They must grow because their full-
ness brings victory, their deficiency defeat. But even after a success in fighting
attempts at new construction must fail, so long as the social forces are insuffi-
cient, so long as the new principles do not entirely occupy the workers' hearts
and minds. And in that case, since mankind must live, since production must
go on, other powers, powers of constraint, dominating and suppressing forces,
will take the production in their hands. So the fight has to be taken up ever
anew, till the social forces in the working class have reached such a height as to
render them capable of being the self-governing masters of society.
The great task of the workers is the organization of production on a new
basis. It has to begin with the organization within the shop. Capitalism, too,
had a carefully planned shop-organization; but the principles of the new organ-
ization are entirely different. The technical basis is the same in both cases; it is
tlle discipline of work imposed by the regular running of the machines. But the
social basis, the mutual relations of men, are the very opposite of what tlley
were. Collaboration of equal companions replaces the command of masters
and the obedience of servants. The sense of dutv. the devotion to the COlllmu-
20 WORKERS' COUNCILS
nity, the praise or blame of the comrades according to efforts and achieve-
ments, as incentives take the place of fear for hunger and perpetual risk of los-
ing the job. Instead of the passive utensils and victims of capital, the workers
are now the self-reliant masters and organizers of production, exalted by the
proud feeling of being active co-operators in the rise of a new humanity.
The ruling body in this shop-organization is the entirety of the collaborat-
workers. They assemble to discuss matters and in assembly take their deci-
sions. So everybody who takes part in the work takes part in the regulation of
the common work. This is all self-evident and normal, and the method seems
to be identical to that followed when under capitalism groups or unions of
workers had to decide by vote on the common aflairs. But there are essential
differences. In the unions there was usually a division of task between the offi-
cials and the members; the officials prepared and devised the proposals and the
members voted. With their fatigued bodies and weary minds the workers had
to leave the conceiving to others; it was only in part or in appearance that they
managed their own affairs. In the common management of the shop, however,
have to do everything themselves, the conceiving, the devising, as well as
the deciding. Devotion and emulation not only play their role in everybody's
work-task, but are still more essential in the common task of regulating the
whole. First, because it is the all-important common cause, which they cannot
leave to others. Secondly, because it deals with the mutual relations in their
own work, in which they are all interested and all competent, which therefore
conmlands their profound considerations, and which thorough discussion must
settle. So it is not only the bodily, but still more the mental effort bestowed
each in his participation in the general regulation that is the object of competi-
tion and appreciation. The discussion, moreover, must bear another character
than in societies and unions under capitalism, where there are always differ-
ences of personal-interest. There in his deeper consciousness everybody is con-
cerned with his own safeguarding, and discussions have to adjust and to
smooth out these differences in the common action. Here, however, in the new
community of labor, all the interests are essentially the same, and all thoughts
are directed to the common aim of effective co-operative organization.
In great factories and plants the number of workers is too large to gather in
one meeting, and far too large for a real and thorough discussion. Here deci-
sions can only be taken in two steps, by the combined action of assemblies of
the separate sections of the plant, and assemblies of central committees of del-
egates. The functions and the practice of these committees cannot exactly be
ascertained in advance now; they are entirely new, an essential part of tlle new
economic structure. When facing the practical needs the workers will develop
the practical stmcture. Yet something of their character may, in general lines,
be derived by comparing them with bodies and organizations known to us.
THE TASK 21
In the old capitalist world central committees of delegates are a well-known
institution. We have them in parliaments, in all kinds of political bodies and in
leading boards of societies and unions. They are invested with authority over
their constituents, or even rule over them as their masters. As such it is in line
with a social system of a working mass of people exploited and commanded
a ruling minority. Now, however, the task is to build up a foml of organization
for a body of collaborating free producers, actually and mentally controlling
their common productive action, regulating it as equals their own will-a
different social system. Again in the old world we have union councils
administering the current after the membership, assembling at greater
intervals, have fIxed the general policy. What these councils then have to deal
with are the trifles of the day, not vital questions. Now, however, basis and
essence of life itself are concerned, the productive work, that occupies and has
to occupy everybody's mind continually, as the one and greatest object of their
The new conditions of labor make these shop-committees something quite
different everything we know in the capitalist world. They are central, but
not ruling bodies, they are no governing board. The delegates constituting
them have been sent by sectional assemblies with special instructions; tlley
return to these assemblies to report on the discussion and its result, and after
further deliberation the same or other delegates may go up with new instruc-
tions. In such a way they act as the connecting links between the personnels of
the separate sections. Neither are the shop-committees bodies of experts to pro-
vide the directing regulations for the non-expert multitude. Of course, experts
will be necessary, single or in bodies, to deal with the special technical and sci-
entific problems. The shop-committees, however, have to deal with the daily
proceedings, the mutual relations, the regulation of tlle work, where everybody
is expert and at the same time an interested party. Among other items it is
to them to put into practice what special experts suggest. Nor are
shop-committees the responsible bodies for the good management of the
whole, with the consequence that every member may shift his part of respon-
sibility upon the impersonal collectivity. On the contrary, whereas this man-
agement is incumbent upon all in common, single persons may be consigned
special tasks which to fulfill with their entire capacity, in full responsibility,
whilst carryall the honors for the achievement.
All members of the personnel, men and women, younger and older, who
take part in the work, as equal companions take their part in this shop-organi-
zation, in the actual work as well as in the general regulation. Of course, there
will be much difference in the personal tasks, easier or more difficult according
to force and capacities, different in character according to inclination and abil-
ities. And, of course, the differences in general insight will give a preponder-
ance to the advice of the most intelligent. At fIrst, when as an inheritance of
22 WORKERS' COUNCILS
capitalism there are large differences in education and training, the lack of good
technical and general knowledge in the masses will be felt as a heavy deficien-
cy. Then the small number of highly trained professional technicians and sci-
entists must act as technical leaders, without thereby acquiring a commanding
or socially leading position, without gaining privileges other than the estima-
tion of their companions and the moral authority that always attaches to capac-
ity and knowledge.
The organization of a shop is the conscious arrangement and connection of
all the separate procedures into one whole. All these interconnections of mutu-
ally adapted operations may be represented in a well-ordered scheme, a mental
image of the actual process. As such it was present in the flrst planning and in
the later improvements and enlargements. This image must be present in the
minds, of all the collaborating workers; they all must have a thorough acquain-
tance with what is their own common affair. Just as a map or a graph flxes and
shows in a plain, to everyone intelligible picture the connections of a compli-
cated totality, so here the state of the total enterprise, at every moment, in all
its developments must be rendered visible by adequate representations. In
numerical form this is done by bookkeeping. Bookkeeping registers and fixes
all that happens in the process of production: what raw materials enter the
shop, what machines are procured, what product they yield, how much labor
is bestowed upon the products, how many hours of work are given by every
worker, what products are delivered. It follows and describes the flow of mate-
rials through the process of production. It allows continually to compare, in
comprehensive accounts, the results with the previous estimates in planning. So
the production in the shop is made into a mentally controlled process.
Capitalist management of enterprises also knows mental control of the pro-
duction. Here, too, the proceedings are represented by calculation and book-
keeping. But there is this fundamental difference that capitalist calculation is
adapted entirely to the viewpoint of production of proflt. It deals with prices
and costs as its fundamental data; work and wages are only factors in the cal-
culation of the resulting profit on the yearly balance account. In the new sys-
tem of production, on the other hand, hours of work is the fundamental datum,
whether they are still expressed, in the beginning, in money units, or in their
own true form. In capitalist production calculation and bookkeeping is a secret
of the direction, the office. It is no concern of the workers; they are objects of
exploitation, they are only factors in the calculation of cost and produce, acces-
sories to the machines. In the production under common ownership the book-
keeping is a public matter; it lies open to all. The workers have always a com-
plete view of the course of the whole process. Only in this way they are able to
discuss matters in the sectional assemblies and in the shop-committees, and to
decide on what has to be done. The numerical results are made visible, more-
over, by statistical tables, by graphs and pictures that display the situation at a
THE TASK 23
glance. This information is not restricted to the persolliel of the shop; it is a
public matter, open to all outsiders. Every shop is only a member in the social
production, and also the connection of its doings with the work outside is
expressed in the book-keeping. Thus insight in the production going on in
every enterprise is a piece of common knowledge for all the producers.
4. SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
Labor is a social process. Each enterprise is part of the productive body of
society. The total social production is formed by their connection and collabo-
ration. Like the cells that constitute a living organism, they carmot exist isolat-
ed and cut off from the body. So the organization of the work inside the shop
is only one-half of the task of the workers. Over it, a still more important task,
stands the joining of the separate enterprises, their combination into a social
organization.
Whereas organization within the shop already existed under capitalism,
and had only to be replaced by another, based on a new foundation, social
organization of all the shops into one whole is, or was until recent years, some-
thing entirely new, without precedent. So utterly new, that during the entire
nineteenth century the establishing of this organization, under the name of
"socialism" was considered the main task of the working class. Capitalism con-
sisted of an unorganized mass of independent enterprises-"a jostling crowd of
separate private employers," as the program of the Labor Party expresses it-
connected only by the chance relations of market and competition, resulting in
bankruptcies, overproduction and crisis, unemployment and an enormous
waste of materials and labor power. To abolish it, the working class should con-
quer the political power and use it to organize industry and production. This
State-socialism was considered, then, as the flrst step into a new development.
In the last years the situation has changed in so far that capitalism itself has
made a beginning with State-run organization. It is driven not only by the sim-
ple wish to increase productivity and proflts through a rational planning of pro-
duction. In Russia there was the necessity of making up for the backwardness
of economic development by means of a deliberate rapid organization of indus-
by the bolshevist government. In Germany it was the flght for world power
that drove to State control of production and State-organization of industry.
This flght was so heavy a task that only by concentrating into the hands of the
State the power over all productive forces could the German capitalist class
have a chance of success. In national-socialist organization property and prof-
it-though strongly cut for State needs-remain with the private capitalist, but
the disposal over the means of production, their direction and management has
been taken over by the State officials. By an efficient organization the unim-
paired production of profits is secured for capital and for the State. This organ-
24 WORKERS' COUNCILS
ization of the production at large is founded on the same principles as the
organization within the factory, on the personal command of the general direc-
tor of society, the Leader, the head of the State. Wherever Government takes
control over industry, authority and constraint take the place of the former
freedom of the capitalist producers. The political power of the State officials is
greatly strengthened by their economic power, by their command over the
means of production, the foundation of society.
The principle of the working class is in every respect the exact opposite.
The organization of production by the workers is founded on free collabora-
tion: no masters, no servants. The combination of all the enterprises into one
social organization takes place after the same principle. The mechanism for this
purpose must be built up by the workers.
Given the impossibility to collect the workers of all the factories into one
meeting, they can only express their will by means of delegates. For such bod-
ies of delegates in later times the name of workers' councils has come into use.
Every collaborating group or personnel designates the members who in the
council assemblies have to express its opinion and its wishes. These took an
active part themselves in the deliberations of this group, they came to the front
as able defenders of the views that carried the Now they are sent as
the spokesmen of the group to confront the views with those of other groups
in order to come to a collective decision. Though their personal abilities playa
role in persuading the colleagues and in clearing problems, their weight does
not lay in their individual strength, but in the strength of the community that
delegated them. What carries weight are not simple opinions but still more the
will and the readiness of the group to act accordingly. Different persons willact
as delegates according to the different questions raised and the forthcoming
problems.
The chief problem, the basis of all the rest, is the production itself. Its
organization has two sides, the establishment of general rules and norms and
the practical work itself. Norms and rules must be established for the mutual
relations in the work, for the rights and duties. Under capitalism the norm con-
sisted in the command of the master, the director. Under State-capitalism it con-
sisted in the mightier command of the Leader, the central government. Now,
however, all producers are free and equal. Now in the economic field of labor
the same change takes place as occur in fonner centuries in the political field,
with the rise of the middle class. When the rule of the citizens came in place of
the rule of the absolute monarch, this could not mean that for his arbitrary will
the arbitrary will of everybody was substituted. Itmeant that,' henceforward,
laws established by the common will should regulate the public rights and
duties. So now, in the realm of labor, the command of the master gives way to
rules fixed in common, to regulate the social rights and duties, in production
and consumption. To formulate them will be the first task of the workers' coun-
1
-.J
THE TASK 25
cils. This is not a difficult task, not a matter of profound study or serious dis-
cordance. For every worker these rules will immediately spring up in his con-
sciousness as the natural basis of the new society: everyone's duty to take part
in the production in accordance with his forces and capacities, everyone's right
to enjoy his adequate part of the collective product.
How will the quantities of labor spent and the quantities of product to
which he is entitled be measured? Ina society where the goods are produced
directly for consumption there is no market to exchange them; and no
as expression of the labor contained in them establishes itself automatically out
of the processes of buying and selling. Here the labor spent must be expressed
in a direct way by the number of hours. The administration keeps book
[records] of the hours of labor contained in every piece or unit quantity of
product, as well as of the hours spent by each of the workers. In the averages
over all the workers of a factory, and finally, over all the factories of the same
category, the personal differences are smoothed out and the personal results are
intercompared.
In the fIrst times of transition when there is much devastation to be
repaired, the first problem is to build up the production apparatus and to keep
people alive. It is quite possible that the habit, imposed by war and famine, of
having the indispensable foodstuffs distributed without distinction is simply
continued. It is most probable that, in those times of reconstruction, when all
the forces must be exerted to the utmost, when, moreover, the new moral prin-
cipals of common labor are only gradually forming, the right of consumption
will be coupled to the performance of work. The old popular saying that who-
ever does not work shall not eat, expresses an instinctive feeling of justice. Here
it is not only the recognition that labor is the basis of all human life, but also
the proclaiming that now there is an end to capitalist exploitation and to appro-
priating the fruits of foreign labor by property titles of an idle class.
This does not mean, of course, that now the total produce is distributed
among the producers, according to the time given by each. Or, expressed in
another way, that every worker receives, in the form of products, just the quan-
tity of hours of labor spent in working. A considerable part of the work must
be spent on the common property, on the perfection and enlargement of the
productive apparatus. Under capitalism part of the surplus-value served this
purpose; the capitalist had to use part of his profit, accumulated into new cap-
ital, to innovate, expand and modernize his technical equipment, in his case
driven by the necessity not to be outflanked by his competitors. So the progress
in technics took place in forms of exploitation. Now, in the new form of pro-
duction, this progress is the common concern of the workers. Keeping them-
selves alive is the most immediate, but building the basis of future production
is the most glorious part of their task. They will have to settle what part of their
total labor shall be spent on the making of better machines and more efficient
26 WORKERS' COUNCILS
tools, on research and experiment, for facilitating the work and improving the
production.
Moreover, part of the total time and labor of society must be spent on
non-productive, though necessary activities, on general administration, on edu-
cation, on medical service. Children and old people will receive their share of
the produce without corresponding achievements. People incapable of work
must be sustained; and especially in the first time there will be a large number
of human wrecks left by the former capitalist world. Probably the rule will pre-
vail that the productive work is the task of the younger part of the adults; or,
in other words, is the task of everybody during that period of his life when
both the tendency and the capacity for vigorous activity are greatest. By the
rapid increase of the productivity ofIabor this part, the time needed to produce
all the life necessities, will continually decrease, and an increasing part of life
will be available for other purposes and activities.
The basis of the social organization of production consists in a careful
administration, in the form of statistics and bookkeeping. Statistics of the con-
sumption of all the different goods, statistics of the capacity of the industrial
plants, of the machines, of the soil, of the mines, of the means of transport, sta-
tistics of the population and the resources of towns, districts and countries, all
these present the foundation of the entire economic process in well ordered
rows of numerical data. Statistics of economic processes were already known
under capitalism; but they remained imperfect because the independence and
the limited view of the private business men and they found only a limited
application. Now they are the starting point in the organization of production;
to produce the right quantity of goods, the quantity used or wanted must be
known. At the same time statistics as the compressed result of the numerical
registration of the process of production, the comprehensive summary of the
bookkeeping, expresses the course of development.
The general bookkeeping, comprehending and encompassing the adminis-
trations of the separate enterprises, combines them all into a representation of
the economic process of society. In different degrees of range it registers the
entire process of transformation of matter, following it from the raw materials
at their origin, through all the factories, through all the hands, down to the
goods ready for consumption. In uniting the results of co-operating enterprises
of a sort into one whole it compares their efficiency, it averages the hours of
labor needed and directs the attention to the ways open for progress. Once the
organization of production has been carried out the administration is the com-
paratively simple task of a network of interconnected computing offices. Every
enterprise, every contingent group of enterprises, every branch of production,
every township or district, for production and for consumption, has its office,
to take care of the administration, to collect, to treat and to discuss the figures
and to put them into a perspicuous form easy to survey. Their combined work
THE TASK 27
makes the material basis of life a mentally dominated process. As a plain and
intelligible numerical image the process of production is laid open to every-
body's views. Here mankind views and controls its Own life. \Vhat the work-
ers and their councils devise and plan in organized collaboration is shown in
character and results in the figures of bookkeeping. Only because they are per-
petually before the eyes of every worker the direction of social production by
the producers themselves is rendered possible.
This organization of economic life is entirely different from the forms of
organization developed under capitalism; it is more perfect and more simple.
The intricacies and difficulties in capitalist organization, for which the much
glorified genius of big business men was needed, always dealt with their mutu-
al struggle, with the arts and tricks of capitalist warfare to subdue or annihilate
the competitors. All this has disappeared now. The plain aim, the providing for
the life necessities of mankind, makes the entire structure plain and direct.
Administration of large quantities, fundamentally, is hardly mOre difficult or
more complicated than that of small quantities; only a couple of ciphers has to
be put behind the figures. The rich and multiform diversity of wants and wish-
es that in small groups of people is hardly less than in large masses, now,
their massal character, can be secured mOre easily and more completely.
The function and the place numerical administration occupies in society
depends on the character of this society. Financial administration of States was
always necessary as part of the central goverrunent, and the computing officials
were subordinate servants of the kings or other rulers. Where in modern cap-
italism production subjected to an encompassing central organization, those
who have the central administration in their hands will be the leading directors
of economy and develop into a ruling bureaucracy. vVhen in Russia the revo-
lution of 1917 led to a rapid expansion of industry and hosts of workers still
permeated by the barbarous ignorance of the villages crowded into the new fac-
tories they lacked the power to check the rising dominance of the bureaucracy
then organizing into a new ruling class. When in Germany, 1933, a sternly
organized party conquered the State power, as organ of its central administra-
tion it took in hand the organization of all the forces of capitalism.
Conditions are entirely different when the workers as masters of their labor
and as free producers organize production. The administration by means of
bookkeeping and computing is a special task of certain persons, just as ham-
mering steel or baking bread is a special task of other persons, all equally use-
ful and necessary. The workers in the computing offices are neither servants
nor rulers. They are not officials in the service of the workers' councils, obe-
diently having to perform their orders. They are groups of workers, like other
groups collectively regulating their work themselves, disposing of their imple-
ments, performing their duties, as does every group, in continual connection
with the needs of the whole. They are the experts who have to provide the basi-
28 WORKERS' COUNCILS
cal data of the discussions and decisions in the assemblies of workers and of
councils. They have to collect the data, to present them in an easily intelligible
form of tables, of graphs, of pictures, so that every worker at every moment
has a clear image of the state of things. Their knowledge is not a private prop-
erty giving them power; they are not a body with exclusive administrative
knowledge that thereby somehow could exert a deciding influence. The prod-
uct of their labor, the numerical insight needed for the work's progress, is avail-
able to all. This general knowledge is the foundation of all the discussions and
decisions of the workers and their councils by which the organization of labor
is performed.
For the first time in history the economic life, in general and in detail, lies
as an open book before the eyes of mankind. The foundations of society, under
capitalism a huge mass hidden in the dark depths, dimly lighted here and there
by statistics on commerce production, now has entered in to the full daylight
and shows its detailed structure. Here we dispose of a science of society con-
sisti:ng of a well-ordered knowledge of facts, out of which leading causal rela-
tions are readily grasped. It forms the basis of the social organization of labor
just as the knowledge of the facts of nature, condensed they too into causal
relations, forms the basis of the technical organization of labor. As a knowledge
of the common simple facts of daily life it is available to everyone and enables
him to survey and grasp the necessities of the whole as well as his own part in
it. It forms the spiritual equipment through which the producers are able to
direct the production and to control their world.
5. OBJECTIONS
The principles of the new structure of society appear so natural and self-evi-
dent, that there may seem to be litde room for doubts or objections. The
doubts come from the old traditions that fill the minds with cobwebs, so long
as the fresh storm wind of social activity does not blow through them. The
objections are raised by the other classes that, up till now are leading society.
So first we have to consider the objections of the bourgeoisie, the ruling class
of capitalists.
One might say that the objections of the members of the capitalist class do
not matter. We cannot convince them, nor is this necessary. Their ideas and
convictions, as well as our own, are class ideas, determined by class conditions
different from ours by the difference in life conditions and in social function.
We have not to convince them by reasoning, but to beat them by power.
But, we should not forget that capitalist power to a great extent is spiritual
power, power over dIe lninds of the workers. TIle ideas of the ruling class dom-
inate society and permeate the minds of the exploited classes. They are fixed
there, fundamentally, by the inner strength and necessity of the system of pro-
THE TASK 29
duction; they are actually implanted there by education and propaganda, by
the influence of school, church, press, literature, broadcasting and film. As long
as this holds, the working class, lacking consciousness of its class position,
acquiescing in exploitation as the normal condition of life does not think of
revolt and caIlIlot fight. Minds submissive to dIe doctrines of the m.asters can-
not hope to win freedom. They must overcome the spiritual sway of capitalism
over their minds before they actually can throw off its yoke. Capitalism must
be beaten dIeoretically before it can be beaten materially. Because then only the
absolute certainty of the truth of their opinions as well as of dIe justice of their
aims can give such confidence to the workers as is needed for victory. Because
then only hesitation and misgivings will lame the forces of the foe. Because
then only the wavering middle groups, instead of fighting for capitalism, may
to a certain degTee conceive the necessity of social transformation and dIe ben-
efit of the new order.
So we have to face the objections raised from the side of the capitalist class.
They proceed directly from its view of die world. J<or the bourgeoisie capital-
ism is dIe only possible and natural system of society, or at least, since more
primitive form.s preceded its most developed final form. Hence all the phe-
nomena presented by capitalism are not considered as temporary but as natu-
ral phenomena, founded on the eternal nature of man. The capitalist class sees
the deep aversion of the workers against their daily labor; and how they only
resign themselves to it by dire necessity. It concludes that man in the great mass
is naturally averse to regular productive work, and for that reason is bound to
remain poor-with the exception of the energetic, industrious and capable
minority, who love work and so become leaders, directors and capitalists. Then
it follows that, if the workers should be collectively masters of dIe production,
widlOUt the competitive principle of personal reward for personal exertion, the
lazy majority will do as litde as possible, trying to live upon what a more indus-
trious minority performs; and universal poverty would inevitably be the result.
All the wonderful progress, all the abundance capitalism has brought in the last
century will then be lost, when the stimulus of personal interest is removed;
and mankind will sink back into barbarism.
To refute such objections it is sufficient to point out that they form the nat-
ural viewpoint from the odler side of society, from dIe side of the exploiting
class. Never in history were the old rulers able to acknowledge the capability
of a new rising class; they expected an inevitable failure as soon as it should try
to manage the affairs; and the new class, conscious of its forces, could show
these only in conquering and after having conquered power. Thus now the
workers grow conscious of the inner strength of their class; their superior
knowledge of the structure of society, of the character of productive labor
shows them the futility of the capitalist point of view. They will have to prove
30 WORKERS' COUNCILS
their capacities, certainly. But not in the form of standing a test beforehand.
Their test will be their fight and victory.
This argument is not directed to the capitalist class, but to my fellow work-
ers. The middle class ideas still permeating large masses of them consist chiefly
in doubt and disbelief in their own forces. As long as a class does not believe
in themselves, they cannot expect that other groups should believe in them.
This lack of self-confidence, the chief weakness now, cannot be entirely
removed under capitalism with its many degrading and exhausting influences.
In times of emergency, however, world crisis and impending ruin, compelling
the working class to revolt and fight, will also, once it has won, compel it to
take control of production. Then the command of dire need treads under foot
the implanted timorous diffidence of their own forces and the imposed task
rouses unexpected energies. Whatever hesitation or doubt may be in their
minds this one thing the workers know for certain: that they, better than the
idle people of property, know what is work, that they can work, and that they
will work. The futile objections of the capitalist class will collapse with this class
itself.
More serious are raised from other sides. From such as consider
themselves and are considered as friends, as allies or spokesmen of the work-
ing class. In later capitalism there is a widespread opinion, among Intellectuals
and social reformers, among trade union leaders and social democrats, that
capitalist production for profit is bad and has to disappear, and that it has to
make place for some kind of socialist system of production. Organization of
production, they say, is the means of producing abundance for all. The capi-
talist anarchy of the totality of production must be abolished by imitating the
organized order within the factory. Just as in a well-directed enterprise the per-
fect running of every detail and the highest efficiency of the whole is secured
by the central authority of the director and the staff, so in the still more com-
plicated social structure the right interaction and connection of all its parts can
only be secured by a central leading power.
The lack of such a ruling power, they say, is what must be to the
system of organization by means of workers' councils. They argue that nowa-
days production is not the handling of simple tools, easily to survey by every-
body, as in the bygone days of our ancestors, but the application of the most
abstract sciences, accessible only to capable and well instructed minds. They
say that a dear-sighted view on an intricate structure and its capable manage-
ment demand talents that only few are gifted with; that it fails to see that the
majority of people are dominated by narrow selfishness, and that they lack the
capacities and even the interest to take up these large responsibilities. And
should the workers in stupid presumption reject the leadership of the most
capable, and try to direct production and society by their own masses, then,
however industrious they may be, their failure would be inevitable; every fac-
THE TASK 31
tory would soon be a chaos, and decline would be the result. They must fail
because they cannot muster a leading power of sufIicient authority to impose
obedience and thus to secure a smooth running of the complicated organiza-
tion.
Where to find such a central power? They argue, we have it already in State
government. Till now Government restricted its functions to political affairs; it
will have to extend them to economic affairs-as already it is compelled to do
in Some minor cases-to the general management of production and distribu-
tion. For is not war against hunger and misery equally, and even more impor-
tant than war ag-ainst foreign enemies?
If the State directs the economic activities it acts as the central body of the
community. The producers are master of the production, not in small groups
separately, but in such a way that in their totality, as the entire class, as the
whole people are master. Public ownership of the means of production, for
their most important part, means State ownership, the totality of the people
being represented by the State. By the democratic State, of course, where peo-
ple choose their rulers. A social and political organization where the masses
choose their leaders, everywhere, in the factories, in the unions, in the State,
may be called universal democracy. Once chosen, these leaders of course must
be strictly obeyed. For only in this way, by obedience to the commandment of
able leaders of production, the organization can work smoothly and satisfacto-
rily.
Such is the point of the spokesmen of State socialism. It is clear that this
plan of social organization is entirely diflerent from a true disposal by the pro-
ducers over the production. Only in name are the workers masters of their
labor, just as only in name are the people masters of the State. In the so-called
democracies, so-called because parliaments are chosen by universal suffrage,
the govermnents are not at all delegates designated the population as execu-
tors of its wilL Everybody knows that in every country the govermnent is in
the hands of small, often hereditary or aristocratic groups of politicians and
high officials. The parliamentarians, their body of supporters, are not selected
the constituents as mandataries to perform their will. The voters, practical-
ly, have only to choose between two sets of politicians, selected, presented and
advertised to them by the two main political parties, whose leaders, according
to the result, either form the ruling cabinet, or as "loyal opposition" stand in
abeyance for their tum. The State officials, who manage the affairs, are not
selected by the people either; they are appointed from above, by the govern-
ment. Even if shrewd advertising calls them servants of the people, in reality
they are its rulers, its masters. In the system of State socialism it is this bureau-
cracy of ofIicials that, considerably enlarged, directs production. They dispose
of the means of production, they have the upper command of labor. They have
to take care that everything runs well, they administrate the process of pro-

32 WORKERS' COUNCILS
duction and determine the partition of the produce. Thus the workers have got
new masters, who assign to them their wages and keep at their own disposal
the remainder of the produce. This means that the workers are still exploited;
State socialism may quite as well be called State capitalism, according to the
emphasis laid on its different sides, and to the greater or smaller share of influ-
ence of the workers.
State socialism is a design for reconstructing society on the basis of a work-
ing class such as the middle class sees it and knows it under capitalism. In what
is called a socialistic system of production the basic fabric of capitalism is pre-
served, the workers running the machines at the command of the leaders; but
it is provided with a new improved upper story, a ruling class of humane
reformers instead of profit-hungry capitalists. Reformers, who as true benefac-
tors of mankind apply their capacities to the ideal task of liberating the work-
masses from want and misery.
It is easily understood that during the 19
th
century, when the workers
began to resist and to fight, but were not yet able to win power over society,
this socialist ideal found many adherents. Not only among socially minded of
the middle class who sympathized with the suffering masses, but also among
the workers themselves. For here loomed up before them a vision of liberation
from their yoke by the simple expression of their opinion in voting, by the use
of the political power of their ballot to put into government their redeemers
instead of their oppressors. And certainly, if it were only a matter of placid dis-
cussion and free choice between capitalism and socialism on the part of the
masses, then socialism would have a good chance.
But reality is different. Capitalism is in power and it defends its power. Can
anybody have the illusion that the capitalist class would give up its rule, its
domination, its profit, the very basis of its existence, hence its existence itself,
at the result of a vote? Or still more, to a campaign of publicity arguments, of
public opinion demonstrated in mass meetings or street processions? Of course
will fight, convinced of its right. We know that even for reforms, for every
reform in capitalism there had to be fighting. Not to the utmost, to be sure; not
or seldom by civil war and bloodshed. Because public opinion, in the bulk of
the middle class, aroused by the determined resistance of the workers, saw that
in their demands capitalism itself, in its essence, was not engaged, that profit as
such was not endangered. Because it was felt that, on the contrary, capitalism
would be consolidated rather, reform appeasing the workers and attaching
them more firmly to the existing system.
however, the existence of the capitalist class itself, as a ruling and exploit-
ing class is at stake, the entire middle class stands behind iL If its mastery, its
exploitation, its profit is threatened, not by a sham revolution of outward
appearances, but by a real revolution of the foundations of society, then we
may be sure that it will resist with all its powers. Where, then, is the power to
THE TASK : ~
defeat it? The irrefutable arguments and the good intentions of noble-minder
reformers, all these are not able to curb, still less to destroy its solid force.
There is only one power in the world capable of vanquishing capitalism: the
power of the working class. The working class can not be freed by others; it
can only be freed by itself.
But the fight will be long and difficult. For the power of the capitalist class
is enormous. It is firmly entrenched in the fabric of State and government, hav-
all their institutes and resources at its disposal, their moral authority as well
as their physical means of suppression. It disposes of all the treasures of the
earth, and can spend unlimited amounts of money to recruit, pay and organize
defenders, and to carry away public opinion. Its ideas and opinions pervade the
entire society, fill up books and papers and dominate the minds of even the
workers. Here lies the chief weakness of the masses. Against it the working
class, certainly, has its numbers, already forming the majority of the population
in capitalist countries. It has its momentous economic function, its direct hold
over the machines, its power to run or stop them. But they are of no avail as
long as their minds are dependent on and filled by the masters' ideas, as long
as the workers are separate, selfish, narrow-minded, competing individuals.
Number and econolnic importance alone are as the powers of a sleeping giant;
they must first be awakened and activated by practical fight. Knowledge and
unity must make them active power. Through the fight for existence, against
exploitation and misery, against the power of the capitalist class and dle State,
through the fight for mastery over the means of production, the workers must
acquire the consciousness of their position, the independence of thought, the
knowledge of society, the solidarity and devotion to their community, the
strong unity of class that will enable them to defeat capitalist power.
We cannot foresee what whirls of world politics will arouse them. But we
can be sure that it is not a matter of years only, of a short revolutionary fight.
It is a historical process that requires an entire epoch of ups and downs, of
fights and lulls, but yet of unceasing progress. It is an intrinsic transformation
of society, not only because the power relations of the classes are reversed,
because property relations are changed, because production is re-organized on
a new basis, but chiefly-decisive basis of all these things-because the working
class itself in its deepest character is transformed. From obedient subjects they
are changed into free and self-reliant masters of their fate, capable to build and
manage their new world.
It was the great socialist humanitarian Robert Owen who has taught us that
for a true socialist society the character of man must change; and that it is
changed by environment and education. It was the great communist scientist
Karl Marx who, completing the theory of his predecessor, has taught us that
mankind itself has to change its environment and has to educate itself, by fight-
ing, by the class-fight against exploitation and oppression. The theory of State
34 WORKERS' COUNCILS
socialism by reform is an arid mechanical doctrine in its belief that for a social
revolution a change of political institutions, of outer conditions of life is suffi-
cient, without the inner transformation of man that turns submissive slaves into
proud and spirited fighters. State socialism was the political program of
social-democracy, utopian, because it pretended to bring about a new system of
production by simply converting people through propaganda to new political
opinions. Social-democracy was not able, nor was it willing to lead the work-
ing class into a real revolutionary fight. So it went down when the modern
development of big capitalism made socialism won by the ballot an obsolete
illusion.
Yet socialist ideas still have their importance, though in a different way now.
They are widespread allover society, among socially feeling middle class peo-
as well as among the masses of the workers. They express the longing for
a world without exploitation, combined, in the workers, with the lack of confi-
dence in their own power. This state of mind will not disappear at once after
the first successes have been won; for it is then that the workers will perceive
the immensity of their task, the still formidable powers of capital, and how all
the traditions and institutions of the old world are barring their way. When
thus they stand hesitating, socialism will point to what appears to be an easier
road, not beset with such insurmountable difficulties and endless sacrifices. For
then, in consequence of their success, numbers of socially-minded reform-
ers will join their ranks as capable allies and friends, putting their capacities in
the service of the rising class, claiming, of course, important positions, to act
and to lead the movement after their ideas. If the workers put them in office, if
they install or support a socialist government, then the powerful existing
machinery of the State is available for the new purpose and can be used to abol-
ish capitalist exploitation and establish freedom by law. How far more attrac-
tive this mode of action than implacable class war! Yes, indeed; with the same
result as what happened in revolutionary movements in the 19
th
century, when
the masses who fought down the old regime in the streets, were thereupon
invited to go home, to return to their work and put their trust in the
self-appointed "provisional government" of politicians that was prepared to
take matters in hand.
The propaganda of the socialist doctrine has the tendency to throw doubts
into the minds of the workers, to raise or to strengthen distrust in their own
powers, and to dim the consciousness of their task and their potentialities. That
is the social function of socialism now, and at every moment of workers' suc-
cess in the coming struggles. From the hard fight for freedom brilliant ahead,
the workers are to be lured by the soft shine of a mild new servitude. Especially
when capitalism should receive a severe blow, all who distrust and fear the
unrestricted freedom of the masses, all who wish to preserve the distinction of
masters and servants, of higher and lower, will rally round this banner. The
THE TASK 35
appropriate catchwords will readily be framed: "order" and "authority" against
"chaos," "socialism" and "organization" against "anarchy." Indeed, an econom-
ic system where the workers are thelIlSelves masters and leaders of their work,
to middle-class thinking is identical with anarchy and chaos. Thus the only role
socialism can play in future will be to act as an impediment standing in the way
of the workers' fight for freedom.
10 summarize: the socialist plan of reconstruction, brought forward by
reformers, must fail, first because they have no mean.s to produce the forces to
vanquish the power of capitalism. Second, because only the workers them-
selves can do that. Exclusively by their own fight they can develop into the
mighty power needed for such a task. It is this fight that socialism tries to fore-
stalL And once the workers have beaten down capitalist power and won free-
dom, why should they give it up and submit to new masters?
There is a theory to explain why indeed they should and they must. The
theory of actual inequality of men. It points out that nature itself makes them
different: a capable, talented and energetic minority rises out of an incapable,
stupid and slow majority. Notwithstanding all theories and decrees instituting
formal and legal equality, the talented energetic minority takes the lead and the
incapable majority follows and obeys.
It is not for the first time that a ruling class tries to explain, and so to per-
petuate, its rule as the consequences of an inborn difference between two kinds
of people, one destined by nature to ride, the other to be ridden. The landown-
ing aristocracy of former centuries defended their privileged position by boast-
ing their extraction from a nobler race of conquerors that had subdued the
lower race of common people. Big capitalists explain their dominating place by
the assertion that they have brains and other people have none. In the same
way now especially the intellectuals, considering themselves the rightful rulers
of tomorrow, claim their spiritual superiority. They form the rapidly increasing
class of university-trained officials and free professions, specialized in mental
work, in study of books and of science, and they consider themselves as the
people most gifted with intellect. Hence they are destined to be leaders of the
production, whereas the ungifted mass shall execute the manual work, for
which no brains are needed. They are no defenders of capitalism; not capital,
but intellect should direct labor. The more so, since now society is such a com-
plicated structure, based on abstract and difficult science, that only the highest
intellectual acumen is capable of embracing, grasping and handling it. Should
the working masses, from lack of insight, fail to acknowledge this need of supe-
rior intellectual lead, should they stupidly try to take the direction into their
own hands, chaos and ruin will be the inevitable consequence.
Now it must be remarked that the term intellectual here does not mean pos-
sessor of intellect. Intellectuals is the name for a class with special functions in
social and econonllc life, for which mostly university training is needed.
36 WORKERS' COUNCILS
Intellect, good understanding, is found in people of all classes, among capital-
ists and artisans, among famlers and workers. "Vhat is found in the "intellec-
tuals" is not a superior intelligence, but a special eapacity of dealing with sci-
entific abstractions and formulas, often merely of memorizing them, and com-
bined, usually, with a limited notion of other realms of life. In their self-com-
placency appears a narrow intellectualism ignorant of the many other qualities
that play an important role in all human activities. A rich and varied multitude
of dispositions, different in character and in degree, is in man: here theoretical
power of abstraction, there practieal skill, here acute understarlding, there rich
fantasy, here rapidity of grasping, there deep brooding, here patient persever-
ance of purpose, there rash spontaneity, here indomitable courage in action and
fight, there all-embracing ethical philanthropy. All of them are necessary in
social life; in turns, according to circumstances, they occupy the foremost place
in the exigencies of practice and labor. It were silly to distinguish some of them
as superior, others as inferior. Their difference implies the predilection and
qualification of people for the most varied kinds of activity. Among them the
capacity for abstract or scientific studies, under capitalism often degenerated to
a limited training, takes its important place in attending to and directing the
technical processes: but only as one among many other capacities. Certainly
for these people there is no reason to look down upon the non-intellectual
masses. Has not the historian Trevalyarl, treating the times of nearly three cen-
turies ago, spoken as "the wealth of imagination, the depth of emotion, the
vigour and variety of intellect that were to be found among the poor ... once
awakened to the use of their minds"?
Of course in all of these qualities some people arc more gifted than others;
men and women of talent or genius excel their fellow beings. Probably they are
even more numerous than it appears now under capitalism, with its neglect,
misuse and exploitation of human qualities. Free humanity will employ their
talents to the best use; and the consciousness to promote with their greater
force the common cause, will give them a greater satisfaction than any materi-
al privilege in a world of exploitation could do.
Let us consider the claim of dIe intellectual class, the domination of spiri-
tual over manual work. Must not the mind rule over the body, the bodily activ-
ities? Certainly. Human mind is the highest product of nature; his spiritual
capacities elevate man above the animals. Mind is the most valuable asset of
man; it makes him lord of the world. What distinguishes human work from the
activities of the animals is this very rule of the mind, the thinking out, the med-
itating and planning before the performing. This domination of theory, of the
powers of the mind over practical work grows ever stronger, through the
increasing complication of the process of production and its increasing depend-
ence on science.
THE TASK 37
This does not mean, however, that spiritual workers should hold sway over
manual workers. ]be contradistinction between spiritual and manual work is
not founded in nature, but in society: it is an artificial class-distinction. All
work, even the most simple, is spiritual as well as manual. For all kinds of
work, till by repetition it has become automatic, thinking is necessary; this com-
bination of thinking and acting is the charm of all human activity. Also under
the natural division of labor, as a consequence of differences in predilection and
capacity, this charm remains. Capitalism, however, has vitiated these natural
conditions. To increase profit it has exaggerated the division of labor to the
extreme of one-sided specializing. Three centuries ago already, in the beginning
of the manufactury-system, the endless repetition of always the same linlited
manipulations turned labor into a monotonous routine where, through undue
training of some limbs and faculties at the cost of others, body and mind were
crippled. In the same way capitalism now, in order to increase productivity and
profit, has separated the mental and dIe manual part of work and made each
of the object of training at the cost of other capacities. It made the
two sides that together constitute natural labor, the exclusive task of separate
trades and different social classes. The manual workers, fatigued by long hours
of spiritless work in dirty surroundings, are not able to develop the capacities
of their minds. The intellectuals, on the other hand, through their theoretical
training, kept aloof from the practical work and the natural activity of the body,
must resort to artificial substitutes. In both groups full human endowment is
crippled. Assuming this capitalistic degeneration to be permanent human
nature, one of these classes now claims superiority and domination over the
other.
By yet another line of argument the claim of the intellectual class for spiri-
tual and, hence, social leadership is supported. Learned writers have pointed
out that the entire progress of humanity is due to some few geniuses. It was this
limited number of discoverers, of inventors, of thinkers, that built up science,
that improved technics, that conceived new ideas and opened new ways, where
then the masses of their fellow-men followed and imitated them. All civilization
is founded upon this small number of eminent brains. So the future of
martkind, the further progress of culture depends on the breeding and selection
of such superior people and would be endangered by a general levelling.
Suppose the assertion to be true, the retort, with becoming irony, could be
that the result of these superior brains, this pitiful world of ours, is indeed in
keeping with such a narrow basis, and nothing to boast of. Could those great
precursors witness what has been made of their discoveries they would not be
very proud. Were we not able to do better, we should despair of humanity.
But the assertion is not true. Whoever makes a detailed study of any of the
great discoveries in science, technics or what else is surprised by the great num-
ber of names associated with it. In the later popular and abridged historical text
38 WORKERS' COUNCILS
books, however, the source of so many superficial misconceptions, only a few
prominent names are preserved and exalted, as if theirs was the sole credit. So
these were coined exceptional geniuses. In reality every great progress pro-
ceeded from a social surrounding pregnant with it, where from all sides the new
ideas, the suggestions, the glimpses of insight sprang up. None of the great
men, extolled in history, because they took the decisive and salient steps, could
have done so but for the work of a large number of precursors on whose
achievements his are based. And besides, these most talented thinkers, praised
in later centuries as the authors of the world's progress, were not at all the spir-
itual leaders of their time. They were often unknown to their contemporaries,
quietly working in retirement; they mostly belonged to the subjected class,
sometimes even they were persecuted by the rulers. Their present-day equiva-
lents are not those noisy claimants for intellectual leadership, but silent work-
ers again, hardly known, derided perhaps or persecuted. Only in a society of
free producers, who are able to appreciate the importance of spiritual achievc-
ments and eager to apply them to the well-being of all, the creative genius will
be recognized and estimated by his fellow-men at the full value.
Why is it that from the life work of all these men of genius in the past noth-
better than present capitalism could result? What they were able to do was
to lay the scientific and technical foundations of high productivity of labor. By
causes beyond them it became the source of immense power and riches for the
minority that succeeded in monopolizing the fruits of this progress. A
society of freedom and abundance for all, however, cannot be brought about
by any superiority of some few eminent individuals whatever. It does not
depend on the brains of the few, but on the character of the many. As far as it
depends on science and technics to create abundance, they are already suffi-
cient. vVhat is lacking are the social forces that bind the masses of the workers
into a strong unity of organization. The basis of the new society is not what
knowledge they can adopt and what technics they can imitate from others, but
what community feeling and organized activity they can raise in themselves.
This new character cannot be infused by others, it cannot proceed from obe-
dience to any masters. It can only sprout from independent action, from the
fight for freedom, from revolt against the masters. All the genius of superior
individuals is of no avail here.
The great decisive step in the progress of mankind, the transformation of
society now impending, is essentially a transformation of the working masses.
It can be accomplished only by the action, by the revolt, by the effort of the
masses themselves; its essential nature is self-liberation of mankind. From this
viewpoint it is clear that here no able leadership of an intellectual elite can be
helpful. Any attempt to impose it could only be obnoxious, retarding as it does
the necessary progress, hence acting as a reactionary force. Objections from the
side of the intellectuals, based on the present inadequateness of the working
THE TASK 39
class, in practice will find their refutation when world conditions compel the
masses to take up the fight for world revolution.
6. DIFFICULTIES
More essential difficulties in the reconstruction of society arise out of the
differences in outlook that accompany differences in development and size of
the enterprises.
'H:chnically and economically society is dominated by big enterprise, by big
capitaL The big capitalists themselves, however, are only a small minority of
the propertied class. They have behind them, to be sure, the entire class of ren-
tiers and shareholders. But these, as mere parasites, cannot give a solid support
in the struggle of the classes. So big capital would be in an awkward position
were it not backed by the small bourgeoisie, by the entire class of smaller busi-
ness men. In its dOInination of society it takes advantage of the ideas and the
moods growing out of the world of small trade, occupying the minds alike of
masters and workers in these trades. The working class has to give good con-
sideration to these ideas. Because its task and its goal, conceived on the basis
of the developments of big capitalism, are conceived and judged in these circles
after the familiar conditions of small trade.
In small capitalistic business the boss as a rule is the owner, sometimes the
sole owner; or if not, the shareholders are some few friends or relatives. He is
his own director and usually the best technical expert. In his person the two
functions of technical leader and profit-making capitalist are not separated and
hardly to be distinguished even. His profit seems to proceed not from his cap-
ital, but from his labor, not from exploitation of the workers, but from the
technical capacities of the employer. His workers, either engaged as a few
skilled assistants or as unskilled hands, are quite well aware of the generally
larger experience and expertness of the boss. What in large enterprise, with its
technical leadership by salaried officials, is an obvious measure of practical effi-
ciency-the exclusion of aU property interests-would here take the retrogressive
form of the removal of the best technical expert and of leaving the work to the
less expert or incompetent.
It must be clear that here there is no question of a real difficulty impeding
the technical organization of industry. It is hardly to be imagined that the work-
ers in the small shop should want to expel the best expert, even the fonner
boss, if he is honestly willing with all his skill to co-operate in their work, on
the foot of equality. Is not this contrary to basis and doctrine of the new world,
the exclusion of the capitalist? The working class, when reorganizing society on
a new basis, is not bound to apply some theoretical doctrine; but, to direct its
practical measures, it possesses a great leading principle. The principle, living
touchstone of practicability to the clear-sighted minds, proclaims that those
40 WORKERS' COUNCILS
who do the work must regulate the work, and that all who collaborate practi-
cally in the production dispose of the means of production, with. the exclusion
of all property or capital interests. It is on the basis of this principle that the
workers will face all problems and difficulties in the organization of production
and will find a solution.
Surely the technically backward branches of production exercised in small
trade will present special, but not essential difficulties. Thc problem of how to
organize them by means of self-governing associations, and to connect them
with the main body of social organization must be solved mainly by the work-
ers engaged in these branches, though collaboration from other sides may
come to their aid. Once the political and social power is firmly in the hands of
the working class and its ideas of reconstruction dominate the minds, it seems
obvious that everybody who is willing to co-operate in the coIllIllunity of labor
will be welcome and will find the place and the task appropriate to rus capaci-
ties. Besides, in consequence of the increasing community feeling and the desire
for efficiency in work, the units of production will not remain the isolated
dwarfish shops of former times.
The essential difficulties are situated in the spiritual disposition, the mode
of thinking produced by the conditions of small trade "in all who are engaged
here, masters as well as artisans and workers. It prevents them to see the prob-
lem of big capitalism and big enterprise as the real and main issue. It is easily
understood, however, that the conditions of small trade, the basis of their ideas,
cannot determine a transformation of society that takes its origin and its driv-
ing force from big capitalism. But it is equally clear that such a disparity of gen-
eral outlook may be an ample source of discord and strife, of misunderstand-
ings and difficulties. Difficulties in the fight, and difficulties in the constructive
work. In small-trade circumstances social and moral qualities develop in anoth-
er way than in big enterprises; organization does not dominate the minds in the
same degree. Whereas the workers may be more headstrong and less submis-
sive, the impulses of fellowship and solidarity are less also. So propaganda has
to playa greater role here; not in the sense of impressing a theoretical doctrine,
but in its pure sense of exposing wider views on society in general, so that the
ideas are determined not by the narrow experience of their own conditions but
by the wider and essential conditions of capitalist labor at large.
This holds good still more for agriculture, with its larger number and
greater importance of small enterprises. There is a material difference, besides,
because here the limited amount of soil brought into being one more parasite.
Its absolute necessity for living room and foodstuff production enables the
owners of the soil to levy tribute from all who want to use it: what in political
economy is called rent. So here we have from olden times an ownership not
based on labor, and protected by State power and law; an ownership consisting
only in certificates, in titles, assuring claims on an often big part of the produce
THE TASK 41
of society. The farmer paying rent to the landowner or interest to the real-estate
bank, the citizen, whether capitalist or worker, paying in his house-rent high
prices for barren soil, they are all exploited by landed property. A century ago,
in the time of small capitalism, the difference between the two forms of income,
the idle income of the landowner as contrasted with the hard-won earnings of
business man, worker and artisan, was so strongly felt as undue robbery, that
repeatedly projects were proposed to abolish it, by nationalization of the soil.
Later on, when capitalist property ever more took on the same form of certifi-
cates commanding income without labor, land reform became silent. The
antagonism between capitalist and landowner, between profit and rent disap-
peared; landed property is now simply one of the many forms of capitalist
property.
The farmer tilling rus Own soil combines the character of three social class-
es, and his earnings are indiscriminately composed of wages for his own labor,
profit from directing rus farm and exploiting the farm hands, and rent from rus
ownership. Under the original conditions partly still living as tradition of an
idealized past, the farmer produced nearly all the necessaries for himself and
his family on rus own or on rented soil. In modern times agriculture has to pro-
vide foodstuffs for the industrial population also, which gradually everywhere,
and increasingly in the capitalist countries, forms the majority. In return the
rural classes receive the products of industry, wruch they need for ever more
purposes. This is not entirely a home affair. The bulk. of the world's need of
grain is supplied by large enterprises, on virgin soil in the new continents, on
capitalist lines; while it exhausted the untouched fertility of those vast plains, it
depressed by its cheap competition the rent of European landed property, caus-
ing agrarian crises. But also in the old European lands agrarian production
nowadays is production of commodities, for the market; the farmers sell the
cruef part of their products and buy what they need for living. So they are sub-
ject to the vicissitudes of capitalist competition, now pressed down by low
prices, mortgaged or ruined, then profiteering by favorable conditions. Since
every increase of rent tends to be petrified in higher land prices, rising product
prices make the former owner a rentier, whereas the next owner, starting with
heavier expenses, suffers ruin in the case of falling prices. So the econolnic posi-
tion of the agricultural class in general is weakened. On the whole their condi-
tion and their outlook on modern society is similar in a way to that of small
capitalists or independent business people in industry.
There are differences, however, due to the limited amount of soil. Whereas
in industry or COIllIllerce whoever has a small capital can venture to start a
business and fight against competitors, the farmer cannot enter the lists when
others occupy the land he needs. To be able to produce he must first have the
soil. In capitalist society free disposal of the soil is only possible as ownership;
if he is not landowner he can only work and apply his knowledge and capaci-
42 WORKERS' COUNCILS
ty by suffering himself to be exploited by the possessor of the soil. So owner-
ship and labor are intimately connected in his mind; this lies at the root of the
often criticized property-fanaticism of the farmers. Ownership enables him to
gain his living during all his years by heavy toiling. By letting or selling his
property, hence living on the idle landowner's rent, ownership also enables him
in his old age to enjoy the sustenance which every worker should be entitled to
after a life of toil. The continuous struggle against the variable forces of nature
and climate, with technics only slightly beginning to be directed by modern sci-
ence, hence strongly dependent on traditional methods and personal capacity,
is aggravated by the pressure from capitalist conditions. This struggle has cre-
ated a strong stubborn individualism, that makes the farmers a special class
with a special mentality and outlook, foreign to the ideas and aims of the work-
ing class.
Still, modern development has worked a considerable change here also.
The tyrannical power of the great capitalist concerns, of landed estate banks
and railway magnates on whom the farmers depend for credit and for trans-
port, squeezed and ruined them, and sometimes brought them to the verge of
rebellion. On the other hand, the necessity of securing some of the advantages
of large enterprise for small-scale business did much to enforce co-operation, as
well for the buying of fertilizers and materials as for procuring the necessary
foodstuffs for the accumulated city population. Here the demand for a uniform
standardized product, in dairy production for instance, exacts rigid prescripts
and control, to which the individual farms have to submit. So the farmers are
taught a bit of community feeling, and their rugged individualism has to make
many concessions. But this inclusion of their work into a social entirety
assumes the capitalist form of subjection to a foreign master-power, thus sting-
ing their feelings of independence.
All these conditions determine the attitude of the rural class to the workers'
reorganization of society. The farmers, though as independent managers of
their own enterprises comparable to industrial capitalists, usually take part
themselves in the productive work, which depends in a high degree on their
professional skill and knowledge. Though pocketing rent as landowners, their
existence is bound up with their strenuous productive activity. Their manage-
ment and control over the soil in their character of producers, of workers, in
common with the laborers, is entirely in accordance with the principles of the
new order. Their control over the soil in their character of landowners is entire-
ly contrary to these principles. They never learned, though, to distinguish
between these totally different sides of their position. Moreover, the disposal
over the soil as producers according to the new principle, is a social function,
a mandate of society, a service to provide their fellow-people with foodstuffs
and raw materials, whereas old tradition and capitalist egotism tend to consid-
er it an an exclusive personal right.
THE TASK 43
Such differences in outlook may give rise to many dissensions and difficul-
ties between the producing classes of industry and of agriculture. The workers
must adhere with absolute strictness to the principle of exclusion of all the
exploitation-interests of ownership; they admit only interests based on produc-
tive work. Moreover, for the industrial workers, the majority of the population,
being cut off from the agrarian produce means starvation, which they cannot
tolerate. .For the highly industrial countries of Europe, certainly, the
transoceanic traffic, the interchange with other food-producing continents, here
plays an important role. But there is no doubt that in some way a common
organization of the industrial and the agricultural production in each country
must be established.
The point is that between the industrial workers and the farmers, between
the city and the country, there are considerable differences in outlook and
ideas, but no real differences or conflicts of interest. Hence there will be many
difficulties and misunderstandings, sources of dissent and strife, but there will
be no war to the knife as between working class and capital. Though so far
mostly the farmers, led by traditional political and narrow social slogans, as
defenders of property interests stood on the side of capital against the workers-
and this may still be so in future-the logics of their own real interests must
finally place them over against capital. This, however, is not sufficient. As small
business men they may be satisfied to be freed from pressure and exploitation
through a victory of the workers with or without their help. But then, accord-
ing to their ideas, it will be a revolution that makes them absolute and
vate possessors of the soil, similar to former middle-class revolutions. Against
this tendency the workers in intensive propaganda have to oppose the new
principles: production a social function, the community of all the producers
master of their work; as well as their firm will to establish this community of
industrial and agricultural production. Whereas the rural producers will be
their Own masters in regulating and directing their work on their own respon-
sibility, its interlocking with the industrial part of production will be a common
cause of all the workers and their central councils. Their continual mutual
intercourse will provide agriculture with all technical and scientific means and
methods of organization available, to increase the efficiency and productivity
of the work.
The problems met with in the organization of agricultural production are
partly of the same kind as in industry. In big enterprises, such as the large
estates for corn, wheat, and other mass production with the aid of motorized
machines, the regulation of the work is made by the community of the work-
ers and their councils. Where for careful treatment in detail small production
units are necessary, co-operation will play an important role. The number and
diversity of small-scale farms will offer the same kind of problems as small-scale
industry, and their managing will be the task of their self-governing associa-
44 WORKERS' COUNCILS
tions. Such local communities of similar and yet individually different farms
will probably be necessary to relieve social management as a whole from deal-
ing and reckoning with every small unit separately. All these forms of organi-
zation cannot be imagined before hand; they will be devised and built by the
producers when they stand before the necessities of practice.
7. COUNCIL ORGANIZATION
The social system considered here might be called a form of cOIDIDunism,
only that name, by the world-wide propaganda of the "Communist Party" is
used for its system of State socialism under party dictatorship. But what is a
name? Names are ever misused to fool the masses, the familiar sounds pre-
venting them from critically using their brains and clearly recognizing reality.
More expedient, therefore, than looking for the right name will it be to exam-
ine more closely the chief characteristic of the system, the council organization.
The workers' councils are the form of self-government which in the times
to come will replace the forms of government of the old world. Of course not
for all future; none such form is for eternity. When life and work in COIDIDU-
nity are natural habit, when mankind entirely controls its own life, necessity
gives way to freedom and the strict rules of justice established before dissolve
into spontaneous behavior. Workers' Councils are the form of organization
during the transition period it which the working classes fighting for domi-
nance, is destroying capitalism and is organizing social production. In order to
know their true character it will be expedient to compare them with the exist-
ing forms of organization and government as fixed by custom as self-evident in
the minds of the people.
Communities too large to assemble in one meeting always regulate their
affairs by means of representatives, of delegates. So the burgesses of free
medieval towns governed themselves by town councils, and the middle class of
all modern countries, following the example of England, have their
Parliaments. When speaking of management of affairs by chosen delegates we
always think of parliaments; so it is with parliaments especially that we have to
compare the workers' councils in order to discern their predominant features.
It stands to reason that with the large differences between the classes and
between their aims, also their representative bodies must be essentially differ-
ent.
At once this difference strikes the eye: workers' councils deal with labor,
have to regulate production, whereas parliaments are political bodies, dis-
cussing and deciding laws and State affairs. Politics and economy, however, are
not entirely unrelated fields. Under capitalism State and Parliament took the
measures and enacted the laws needed for the smooth course of production;
such as the providing for safety in traffic and dealings, for protection of com-
THE TASK 45
merce and industry, of business and travel at home and abroad, for adminis-
tration of justice, for coinage and uniform weights and measures. And its polit-
ical work, too, not at first sight connected with economic activity, dealt with
general conditions in society, with the relations between the different classes,
constituting the foundation of the system of production. So politics, the activi-
of Parliaments may, in a wider sense, be called an auxiliary for production.
What, then, under capitalism, is the distinction between politics and econ-
omy? They compare together as the general regulation compares with the
actual practice. The task of politics is to establish the social and legal conditions
under which productive work may run smoothly; the productive work itself is
the task of the citizens. Thus there is a division of labor. The general regula-
tions, though necessary foundations, constitute only a minor part of social
activity, accessory to the work proper, and can be left to a minority of ruling
politicians. The productive work itself, basis and contents of social life, consists
in the separate activities of numerous producers, completely fIlling their lives.
The essential part of social activity is the personal task. IT everybody takes care
of his own business and performs his task well, society as a whole mns well.
Now and then, at regular intervals, on the days of parliamentary election, the
citizens have to pay attention to the general regulations. Only in times of social
crisis, of fundamental decisions and severe contests, of civil strife and revolu-
tion, the mass of thc citizens had to devote their entire time and forces to these
general regulations. Once the fundamentals decided, they could return to their
private business and once more leave these general affairs to the minority of
experts, to lawyers and politicians, to Parliament and Government.
Entirely different is the organization of common production by means of
workers' councils. Social production. is not divided up into a number of sepa-
rate enterprises each the restricted life-task of One person or group; now it
forms one connected entirety, object of care for the entirety of workers, occu-
pying their minds as the common task of all. The general regulation is not an
accessory matter, left to a small group of specialists; it is the principal matter,
demanding the attention of all in conjunction. There is no separation between
politics and economy as life activities of a body of specialists and of the bulk of
producers. For the one COIDIDUnity of producers politics and economy have
now coalesced into the unity of general regulation and practical productive
labor. Their entirety is the essential object for all.
This character is reflected in the practice of all proceedings. The councils
are no politicians, no government. They are messengers, carrying and inter-
changing the opinions, the intentions, the will of the groups of workers. Not,
indeed, as indifferent messenger boys passively carrying letters or messages of
which they themselves know nothing. They took part in the discussions, they
stood out as spirited spokesmen of the prevailing opinions. So now, as dele-
gates of the group, they are not only able to defend them in the council meet-
46 WORKERS' COUNCILS
but at the same time they are sufficiently unbiased to be accessible to other
arguments and to report to their group opinions more largely adhered to. Thus
they are the organs of social intercourse and discussion.
The practice of parliaments is exactly the contrary. Here the delegates have
to decide without asking instructions from their voters, without binding man-
date. Though the M.P., to keep their allegiance, may deign to speak to them
and to expound his line of conduct, he does so as the master of his own deeds.
He votes as honor and conscience dictate him, according to his own opinions.
Of course; for he is the expert in politics, the specialist in legislative matters and
cannot let himself be directed by instructions from ignorant people. Their task
is production, private business, his task is politics, the general regulations. He
has to be guided by high political principles and must not be influenced by the
narrow selfishness of their private interests. In this way it is made possible that
in democratic capitalism politicians, elected by a majority of workers, can serve
the interests of the capitalist class.
In the labor movement also the principles of parliamentarism took a foot-
ing. In the mass organizations of the unions, or in such gigantic political organ-
izations as the German Social-Democratic Party, the officials on the boards as
a kind of govenlment got power over the members, and their annual congress-
es assumed the character of parliaments. The leaders proudly called them so,
parliaments of labor, to emphasize their importance; and critical observers
pointed to the strife of factions, to the leaders, to the intrigue behind the scenes
as indications of the same degeneration as appeared in the real parliaments.
Indeed, they were parliaments in their fundamental character. Not in the begin-
ning, when the unions were small, and devoted members did all the work
themselves, mostly gratuitously. But with the increase of membership there
came the same division of labor as in society at large. The working masses had
to give all their attention to their separate personal interests, how to find and
to keep their job, the chief contents of their life and their mind; only in a most
general way they had, moreover, to decide by vote over their common class and
group interests. It was to the experts, the union officials and party leaders, who
knew how to deal with capitalist bosses and State tribunals, that the detailed
practice was left. And only a minority of local leaders was sufficiently acquaint-
ed with these general interests to be sent as delegates to the congresses, where
notwithstanding the often binding mandates, they actually had to vote after
their own judgment.
In the council organization the dominance of delegates over the con-
stituents has disappeared because its basis, the division of task, has disap-
peared. Now the social organization of labor compels every worker to give his
entire attention to the common cause the totality of production. The produc-
tion of the necessaries for-life as, the basis of life, as before entirely occupies the
mind. Not in the form, now, as care for the own enterprise, the own job, in
THE TASK 47
competition with others. Life and production now can be secured only by col-
laboration, by collective work with the companions. So this collective work is
uppennost in the thoughts of everybody. Consciousness of conununity is the
background, the basis of all feeling and thinking.
This means a total revolution in the spiritual life of man. He has now
learned to see society, to know community. In former times, under capitalism,
his view was concentrated on the small part related with his business, his job,
himself and his family. This was imperative, for his life, his existence. As a dim,
unknown background society hovered behind his small visible world. To be
sure, he experienced its mighty forces that detennined luck or failure as the
outcome of his labor; but guided by religion he saw them as the working of
supernatural Supreme Powers. Now, on the contrary, society comes into the full
light, transparent and knowable; now the structure of the social process of
labor lies open before man's eyes. Now his view is directed to the entirety of
production; this is inlperative, for his life, his existence. Social production is
now the object of conscious regulation. Society is now a thing handled, manip-
ulated by man, hence understood in its essential character. Thus the world of
the workers' councils transforms the mind.
To parliamentarism, the political system of the separate business, the peo-
ple were a multitude of separate persons, at the best, in democratic theory, each
proclaimed to be endowed with the same natural rights. For the election of del-
egates they were grouped according to residence in constituencies. In the times
of petty-capitalism a certain community of interests might be assumed for
neighbors living in the same town or village. In later capitalism this assumption
ever more became a senseless fiction. Artisans, shopkeepers, capitalists, work-
ers living in the same quarter of a town have different and opposed interests;
they usually give their vote to different parties, and chance majorities win.
Though parliamentary theory considers the man elected as the representative
of the constituency, it is clear that all these voters do not belong together as a
group that sends him as its delegate to represent its wishes.
Council organization, in this respect, is quite the contrary of parliamen-
tarism. Here the natural groups, the collaborating workers, the personnels of
the factories act as unities and designate their delegates. Because they have
common interests and belong together in the praxis of daily life, they can send
some of them as real representatives and spokesmen. Complete democracy is
realized here by the equal rights of everyone who takes part in the work. Of
course, whoever stands outside the work does not have a voice in its regula-
tion. It cannot be deemed a lack of democracy that in this world of self-rule of
the collaborating groups all that have no concern with the work -such as
remained in plenty from capitalism: exploiters, parasites, rentiers do not take
part in the decisions.
48 WORKERS' COUNCILS
Seventy years ago Marx pointed out that between the rule of capitalism and
the final organization of a free humanity there will be a time of transition in
which the working class is master of society but in which the bourgeoisie has
not disappeared, He called this state of things the dictatorship of the prole-
tariat. At that time this word had not yet the ominous sound of modern sys-
tems of despotism, nor could it be misused for the dictatorship of a ruling
party, as in later Russia. It meant simply that the dominant power over society
was transferred from the capitalist to the working class. Mterwards people,
entirely confmed within the ideas of parliamentarism, tried to materialize this
conception by taking away the franchise for political bodies from the proper-
tied classes. It is clear that, violating as it did the instinctive feeling of equal
rights, it was in contrast to democracy. We see now that council organization
puts into practice what Marx theoretically anticipated but for what at that time
the practical form could not yet be imagined. When production is regulated by
the producers themselves the formerly exploiting class automatically is exclud-
ed from taking part in the decisions, without any artificial stipulation. Marx's
conception of the dictatorship of the proletariat now appears to be identical
with the labor democracy of the council organization.
This labor democracy is entirely different from political democracy of the
former social system. The so-called political democracy under capitalism was a
mock democracy, an artful system conceived to mask the real domination of
the people by a ruling minority. Council organization is a real democracy, the
democracy of labor, making the working people master of their work. Under
council organization political democracy has disappeared, because politics itself
disappeared and gave way to social economy. The activity of the councils, put
in action by the workers as the organs of collaboration, guided by perpetual
study and strained attention to circumstances and needs, covers the entire field
of society. All measures are taken in constant intercourse, by deliberation in the
councils and discussion in the groups and the shops, by actions in the shops
and decisions in the councils. What is done under such conditions could never
be commanded from above and proclaimed by the will of a government. It pro-
ceeds from the common will of all concerned; because it is founded on the
labor experience and knowledge of all, and because it deeply influences the life
of all. Measures can be executed only in such a way that the masses put them
into practice as their own resolve and will; foreign constraint cannot enforce
them, simply because such a force is lacking. The councils are no government;
not even the most central councils bear a governmental character. For they
have no means to impose their will upon the masses; they have no organs of
power. All social power is vested in the hands of the workers themselves.
Wherever the use of power is needed against disturbances or attacks upon the
existing order it proceeds from the collectivities of the workers in the shops and
stands under their control.
THE TASK 49
Governments were necessary, during the entire period of civilization up to
now, as instruments of the ruling class to keep down the exploited masses.
They also assumed administrative functions in increasing measure; but their
chief character as power structures was determined by the necessity of uphold-
ing class domination. Now that the necessity has vanished, the instrument, too,
has disappeared. What remains is administration, one of the many kinds of
work, the task of special kinds of workers; what comes in its stead, the life spir-
it oforganization, is the constant deliberation of the workers, in common think-
ing attending to their common cause. What enforces the accomplishment of the
decisions of the councils is their moral authority. But moral authority in such
a society has a more stringent power than any command or constraint from a
government.
When in the preceding time of governments over the people political power
had to be conceded to the people and their parliaments a separation was made
between the legislative and the executive part of government, sometimes com-
pleted by the judicial as a third independent power. Law-making was the task
of parliaments, but the application, the execution, the daily governing was
reserved to a small privileged group of rulers. In the labor community of the
new society this distinction has disappeared. Deciding and performing are inti-
mately connected; those who have to do the work have to decide, ,md what
they decide in common they themselves have to execute in common. In the
case of great masses, the councils are their organs of deciding. Where the exec-
utive task was entrusted to central bodies these must have the power of com-
mand, they must be governments; where the executive task falls to the masses
themselves this character is lacking in the councils. Moreover, according to the
varied problems and objects of regulation and decision, different persons in dif-
ferent combinations will be sent out and gather. In the field of production itself
every plant has not only to organize carefully its own extensive range of activ-
ities, it has also to connect itself horizontally with similar enterprises, vertical-
ly with those who provide them with materials or use their products. In the
mutual dependence and interconnection of enterprises, in their conjunction to
branches of production, discussing and deciding councils will cover ever wider
realms, up to the central organization of the entire production. On the other
hand the organization of consumption, the distribution of all necessaries to the
consumer, will need its own councils of delegates of all involved, and will have
a more local or regional character.
Besides this organization of the material life of mankind there is the wide
realm of cultural activities, and of those not directly productive which are of
primary necessity for society, such as education of the children, or care for the
health of all. Here the same principle holds, the principle of self-regulation of
these fields of work by those who do the work. It seems altogether natural that
in the care for universal health, as well as in the organization of education, all
50 WORKERS' COUNCILS
who take part actively, here the physicians, there the teachers, by means of
their associations regulate and organize the entire service. Under capitalism,
where they had to make a job and a living out of the human disease or out of
drilling children, their connection with society at large had the form either of
competitive business or of regulation and command by Government. In the
new society, in consequence of the much more intimate connection of health
with labor, and of education with labor, they will regulate their tasks in close
touch and steady collaboration of their organs of intercourse, their councils,
with the other workers' councils.
It must be remarked here that cultural life, the domain of arts and sciences,
by its very nature is so intimately bound up with individual inclination and
effort, that only the free initiative of people not pressed down by the weight of
incessant toil can secure its flowering. This truth is not refuted by the fact that
during the past centuries of class society princes and governments protected
and directed arts and sciences, aiming of course to use them as utensils for their
glory and the preservation of their d()mination. Generally speaking, there is a
fundamental disparity for the cultural as well as for all the non-productive
activities, between organization imposed from above by a ruling body and
organization by the free collaboration of colleagues and comrades. Centrally
directed organization consists in regulation as much as possible uniform all
over the realm; else it could not be surveyed and conducted from one centre.
In the self-regulation by all concerned the initiative of numerous experts, all
poring over their work, perfecting it by emulating, imitating, consulting each
other in constant intercourse, must result in a rich diversity of ways and means.
Dependent on the central command of a government, spiritual life must fall
into dull monotony; inspired by the free spontaneity of massal human impulse
it must unfold into brilliant variety. The council principle affords the possibili-
ty of fInding the appropriate forms of organization.
Thus council organization weaves a variegated net of collaborating bodies
through society, regulating its life and progress according to their own free ini-
tiative. And all that in the councils is discussed and decided draws its actual
power from the understanding, the will, the action of working mankind itself.
8. GROWfH
When in the diffIcult fight against capital, in which the workers' councils
came up and developed, victory is won by the working class, it takes up its
task, the organization of production.
We know, of course, that victory will not be one event, finishing the fight
and introducing a then following period of reconstruction. We know that social
fight and econornic construction will not be separated, but will be associated as
a scries of successes in fight and starts of new organization, interrupted perhaps
THE TASK 51
periods of stagnation or social reaction. The workers' cOUIlcils growing up
as organs of fight will at the same time be organs of reconstruction..For clear
understanding, however, we will distinguish these two tasks, as if they were
separate things, coming one after another. In order to see the true character of
the transformation of society we must treat it in a schema tical way, as a uni-
form, continuous process starting "the day after the victory."
As soon as the workers are master of the factories, master of society, they
will set the machines running. They know that this cannot wait; to live is the
first necessity, and their own life, the life of society depends on their labor. Out
of the chaos of crumbling capitalism the first working order must be created by
means of the couneils. Endless diffIculties will stand in their way; resistance of
all kinds must be overcome, resistance by hostility, by misunderstanding.
ignorance. But new unsuspected forces have come into being, the forces of
enthusiasm, of devotion, of insight. Hostility must be beaten down by resolute
action, misunderstanding must be taken away by patient persuading, ignorance
must be overcome by incessant propaganda and teaching. By making the con-
nection of the shops ever stronger, by including ever wider realms of produc-
tion, by making ever more precise accounts and estimates in the plannings, the
regulation of the process of production continually progresses. In this way step
step social economy is growing iuto a eonsciously dominated organization
able to secure life necessities to all.
With the realization of this program the task of the workers' councils is not
finished. On the contrary, this is only the introduction to their real, more exten-
sive and important work. A period of rapid development now sets in. As soon
as the workers feel themselves master of their labor, free to unfold their forces,
their first impulse will be the determinate will to do away with all the misery
and ugliness, to fmish with the shortcomings and abuses, to destroy all pover-
ty and barbarism that as inheritances of capitalism disgrace the earth. An enor-
mous backwardness must be made up for; what the masses got lagged far
behind what they might and should get under existing conditions. With the
possibility of fulfilling them, their wants will be raised to higher standards; the
height of culture of a people is measured by the extent and the quality of its life
exigencies. By simply using the available means and methods of working,
quantity and quality of homes, of food, of clothing for all ean be raised to a
level corresponding to the existing productivity of labor. All productive force
that in the former society was wasted or used for luxury of the rulers can now
be used to satisfy the higher wants of the masses. Thus, first innovation of soci-
ety, a general prosperity will arise.
But also the backwardness in the methods of production will from the
beginning have the attention of the workers. They will refuse to be harrowed
and fatigued with primitive tools and obsolete working methods. If the techni-
cal methods and the machines are improved by the systematic application of all
52 WORKERS' COUNCILS
known inventions of technics and discoveries of science, the productivity of
labor can be increased considerably. This better technics will be made accessi-
ble to all; the including in productive work of the many who before had to
waste their forces in the bungling of petty trade, because capitalism had no use
for them, or in personal service of the propertied class, now helps to lower the
necessary hours of labor for all. So this will be a time of supreme creative activ-
It has to proceed from the initiative of the expert producers in the enter-
prises; but it can take place only by continual deliberation, by collaboration, by
mutual inspiration and emulation. So the organs of collaboration, the councils,
are put into (unceasing) action. In this new construction and organization of an
ever more excellent productive apparatus the workers' councils, as the con-
necting nerve strings of society, will rise to the full height of their faculties.
Whereas the abundance of life necessities, the universal prosperity represents
the passive side of the new life, the innovation of labor itself as its active side
makes life a delight of glorious creative experience.
The entire aspect of social life changes. Also in its outer appearance, in sur-
roundings and utensils, showing in their increasing harmony and beauty the
nobleness of the work that shaped them new. What William Morris said,
speaking of the crafts of olden times with their simple tools: that the beauty of
their products was due to work being a joy for man-hence it was extinguished
in the ugliness of capitalism-again asserts itself; but now on the higher stage of
mastery over the most perfect technics. William Morris loved the tool of the
craftsman and hated the machine of the capitalist. For the free worker of the
future the handling of the perfectly constructed machine, providing a tension
of acuteness, will be a source of mental exaltation, of spiritual rejoicing, of intel-
lectual beauty.
Technics make man a free master of his own life and destiny. Technics, in a
painful process of growth during many thousands of years of labor and
developed to the present height, put an end to all hunger and poverty, to all
toiling and slavery. Technics put all the forces of nature at the service of
mankind and its needs. The growth of the science of nature opens to man new
forms and new possibilities of life so rich and manifold that they far surpass
what we C<'ln imagine today. But technics alone cannot perform that. Only tech-
nics in the hands of a humanity that has bound itself consciously by strong ties
of brotherhood into a working community controlling its own life. Together,
indissolvably connected, technics as material basis and visible power, the com-
munityas ethical basis and consciousness, they determine the entire renovation
of labor.
And now, with his work, man himself is changing. A new feeling is taking
hold of him, the feeling of security. Now at last the gnawing solicitudes for life
falls off from mankind. During all the past centuries, from original savageness
till during modern civilization, life was not secure. Man was not master over
THE TASK 53
his subsistence. Always, also in times of prosperity, and for the wealthiest even,
behind the illusion of perpetual welfare, in the subconsciousness lurked a silent
solicitude for the future. As a permanent oppression this anxiety was sunk in
the hearts, weighed heavily upon the brain and hampered the unfolding of free
thinking. For us, who ourselves live under this pressure, it is impossible to
imagine what a deep change in outlook, in world vision, in character, the dis-
appearance of all anxiety about life will bring about. Old delusions and super-
stitions that in past times had to uphold mankind in its spiritual helplessness,
now are dropped. Now that man feels certain that he truly is master of his life,
their place is taken by knowledge accessible to all, by the intellectual beauty of
an all-encompassing scientific world view.
Even more than in labor itself, the innovation of life will appear in the
preparing of future labor, in the education and training of the next generation.
It is clear that, since every organization of society has its special system of edu-
cation adapted to its needs, this fundamental change in the system of produc-
tion must be accompanied immediately by a fundamental change in education.
In the original small-trade economy, in the farmer and artisan world, the fam-
ily with its natural division of labor was the basic element of society and of pro-
duction. Here the children grew up and learned the methods of working by
gradually taking their part in the work. Afterwards, under capitalism, the fam-
ily lost its economic basis, because productive labor ever more was transferred
to the factories. Labor became a social process with broader theoretical basis;
so a broader knowledge and a more intellectual education was necessary for all.
Hence schools were founded, as we know them: masses of children, educated
in the isolated small homes without any organic connection with labor, flock-
into the schools to learn such abstract knowledge as is needed for society,
here again without direct connection with living labor. And different of course
according to social classes. For the children of the bourgeoisie, for the future
officials and intellectuals a good theoretical and scientific training, enabling
them to direct and rule society. For the children of the farmers and the work-
ing class an indispensible minimum: reading, writing, computing, needed for
their work, completed by history and religion, to keep them obedient and
respectful towards their masters and rulers. Learned writers of pedagogy text
books, unacquainted with the capitalistic basis of these conditions which they
assume to be lasting, vainly try to explain and to smooth out the conflicts pro-
ceeding from this separation of productive labor and eduC<'ltion, from the con-
tradiction between narrow family isolation and the social character of produc-
tion.
In the new world of collaborate production these contradictions have dis-
appeared, and harmony between life and labor is restored, now on the wide
base of society at large. Now again education of the youth consists in learning
the working methods and their foundation by gradually taking part in the pro-
..l.
54 WORKERS' COUNCILS
ductive process. Not in family isolation; now that the material provision of life
necessities has been taken over by the community, besides its function as pro-
ductive, the family loses that of consumption unit. Community life, correspon-
ding to the strongest impulses within the children themselves, will take much
larger place; out of the small homes they enter into the wide air of society. The
hybridical combination of home and school gives way to communities of chil-
dren, for a large part regulating their own life under careful guidance of adult
educators. Education, instead of passively imbibing teachings from above, is
chiefly personal activity, directed towards and connected with social labor.
Now the social feelings, as an inheritance of primeval times living in all, but
extremely strong in children, can develop without being suppressed by the
need of egotism of the capitalist struggle for life.
Whereas the forms of education are determined by community end
self-activity, its contents are given by the character of the production system,
towards which it prepares. This production system was ever more, especially
in the last century, based upon the application of science to technics. Science
gave man mastery over the forces of nature; this mastery has made possible the
social revolution and affords the basis of the new society. The producers can
be master of their labor, of production, only if they master these sciences.
Hence the growing generation must be instructed in the first place in the sci-
ence of nature and its application. No longer, as under capitalism, will science
be a monopoly of a small minority of intellectuals, and the uninstructed mass-
es be restricted to subordinate activities. Science in its full extent will be open
to all. Instead of the division between one-sided manual and one-sided mental
work as specialities of two classes, now comes the harmonious combination of
manual and mental work for everybody. This will be necessary also for the fur-
ther development of the productivity of labor, depending as it does on the
ther progress of its foundations, science and technics. Now it is not merely a
minority of trained intellectuals, but it is all the good brains of the entire peo-
ple, all prepared by the most careful education, that occupy themselves with the
creation of knowledge and its application in labor. Then may be expected a
tempo of progress in the development of science and teclmics, compared to
which the much praised progress under capitalism is only a poor commence-
ment.
Under capitalism there is a distinctive difference between the tasks of the
young and of the adults. Youth has to learn, the adults have to work. It is dear
that as long as labor is toiling in exploitative service [for a purpose in opposi-
tion to the well-being and comfort of the workers] to produce the highest prof-
it for capital, every capacity, once acquired, must be used up to the limits of
time and force. No time of a worker could be wasted for learning ever new
things. Only an exceptional adult had the possibility, and still less had the duty
regularly to instruct himself during his further life. In the new society this dif-
--,
THE TASK 55
ference disappears. Now in youth the learning consists in taking part, in
increasing rate with the years, in the productive work. And now with the
increase of productivity and the absence of exploitation ever more leisure is
available to the adults for spiritual activities. It enables them to keep apace with
the rapid development of the methods of work. This indeed is necessary for
them. To take part in the discussions and decisions is only possible if they can
study the problems of technics that continually incite and stimulate their atten-
tion. The grand development of society through the unfolding of technics and
science, of security and abundance, of power over nature and life, can only be
ascertained by the growth of capability and knowledge of all the partners. It
gives new contents of thrilling activity to their life; it elevates existence and
makes it a conscious delight of eager participation in the spiritual and practical
progress of the new world.
Added to these sciences of nature are now the new sciences of society that
were lacking under capitalism. The special feature of the new system of pro-
duction is that man now dominates the social forces which determine his ideas
and impulses. Practical domination must find its expression in theoretical dom-
ination, in knowledge of the phenomena and the determining forces of human
action and life, of thinking and feeling. In former times, when through igno-
rance about society their social origin was unknown, their power was ascribed
to the supernatural character of spirit, to a mysterious power of the mind, and
the disciplines dealing with them were labeled spiritual sciences: psychology,
philosophy, ethics, history, sociology, aesthetics. As with all science their begin-
nings were full of primitive mysticism and tradition; but contrary to the sci-
ences of nature their rise to real scientific height was obstructed by capitalism.
They could not find a solid footing because under capitalism they proceeded
from the isolated human being with its individual mind, because in those times
of individualism, it was not known that man is essentially a social being, that
all his faculties emanate from society and are determined by society. Now, how-
ever, that society lies open to the view of man, as an organism of mutually con-
nected human beings, and that the human mind is understood as their main
organ of interconnection, now they can develop into real sciences.
And the practical importance of these sciences for the new community is no
less than that of the sciences of nature. They deal with the forces lying in man,
determining his relations to his fellow men and to the world, instigating his
actions in social life, appearing in the events of history past and present. As
mighty passions and blind impulses they worked in the great social fights of
mankind, now elating man to powerful deeds, then by equally blind traditions
keeping him in apathetic submissivity, always spontaneous, ungoverned,
unknown. 'The new science of man and society discloses these forces and so
enables man to control them by conscious knowledge. From masters driving
56 WORKERS' COUNCILS
him through passive instincts they become servants, ruled by self-restraint,
directed by him towards his well-conceived purposes.
The instruction of the growing generation in the knowledge of these social
and spiritual forces, and its training in consciously directing them will be one
of the chief educational tasks of the new society. Thus the young will be
enabled to develop all endowments of passion and will-power, of intelligence
and enthusiasm, and to apply them in efficient activity. It is an education of
character as well as of knowledge. This careful education of the new genera-
tion, theoretical and practical, in natural science and in social consciousness,
will form a most essential element in the new system of production. Only in
this wayan. urulampered progression of social life will be secured. And in this
way, too, the system of production will develop to ever higher forms. Thus by
theoretical mastery of the sciences of nature and society, and by their practical
application in labor and life, the workers will make the earth into a happy
abode of free mankind.
II. The Fight
1. TRADEUNIONISM
The task of the working class to take production in it'> own hand and to
organize it first has to be dealt with. In order to carryon the fight it is neces-
sary to see the goal in clear and distinct lines before us. But the fight, the con-
quest of power over production is the chief and most difficult part of the work.
It is in this fight that the workers' councils will be created.
We cannot exactly foresee the future forms of the workers' fight for free-
dom. They depend on social conditions and must change along with the
increasing power of the working class. It will be necessary, therefore, to survey
how so far it has fought its way upward, adapting its modes of action to the
varying circumstances. Only by learning from the experience of our predeces-
sors and by considering it critically will we be able in our turn to meet the
demands of the hour.
In every society depending on the exploitation of a working class by a rul-
ing class there is a continuous struggle over the division of the total produce of
labor, or in other words: over the degree of exploitation. Thus medieval times,
as well as later centuries, are full of incessant struggles and furious fights
between the landowners and the farmers. At the same time we see the fight of
the rising burgher class against nobility and monarchy, for power over society.
This is a different kind of class struggle, associated with the rise of a new sys-
tem of production, proceeding from the development of technics, industry and
commerce. It was waged between the masters of the land and the masters of
capital, between the declining feudal and the rising capitalist system. In a series
of social convulsions, of political revolutions and wars, in England, in France
and in other countries consecutively, the capitalist class has gained complete
mastery over. society.
The working class under capitalism has to carryon both kinds of fight
against capital. It has to keep up a continual struggle to mitigate the heavy pres-
sure of exploitation, to increase wages, to enlarge or keep up its share in the
total produce. Besides, with the growth of its strength, it has to gain mastery
57
58 WORKERS' COUNCILS
over society in order to overthrow capitalism and bring about a new system of
production.
VVhen for the first time, in the beginning of the Industrial Revolution in
England, spinning and then weaving machines were introduced, we hear of
revolting workers destroying the machines. They were not workers in the
modern sense, not wage earners. They were small artisans, independent before,
now starved by the competition of cheaply producing machines, and trying in
vain to remove the cause of their misery. Afterwards, when Lhey or their chil-
dren became wage workers, themselves handling the machines, their position
was different. It was the same for the hosts from the countryside, who, during
the entire 19
th
century of growing industry, flocked into the towns, lured by
what to them appeared good wages. In modern times it is ever more the off-
spring of the workers themselves that fill the factories.
I<or all of them the struggle for better working conditions is of immediate
necessity. The employers, under the pressure of competition, to enlarge their
profits, try to lower the wages and to increase the hours as much as possible.
At first the workers, powerless by the constraint of hunger, have to submit in
silence. Then resistance bursts forth, in the only possible form, in the refusal to
work, in the strike. In the strike for the first time the workers discover their
strength, in the strike arises their fighting power. From the strike springs up the
association of all the workers of the factory, of the branch, of the country. Out
of the strike sprouts the solidarity, the feeling of fraternity with the comrades
in work, of unity with the entire class: the first dawn of what some day will be
the lifespending sun of the new society. The mutual help, at first appearing in
spontaneous and casual money collections, soon takes the lasting form of the
trade union.
For a sound development of trade-unionism certain conditions are neces-
sary. The rough ground of lawlessness, of police arbitrarity and prohibitions,
mostly inherited from pre-capitalistic times, must be smoothed before solid
buildings may be erected, Usually the workers themselves had to secure these
conditions. In England it was the revolutionary campaign of Chartism; in
Germany, half a century later, it was the fight of Social Democracy that, by
enforcing social acknowledgment for the workers, laid the foundations for the
growth of the unions.
Now strong organizations are built up, comprising the workers of the same
trade all over the country, forming connections with other trades, and interna-
tionally with unions all over Lhe world. The regular paying of high dues pro-
vides the considerable funds from which strikers are supported, when unwill-
ing capitalists must be forced to grant decent working conditions, The ablest
among the colleagues, sometimes victims of the foe's wrath from former fights,
are appointed as salaried official, who, as independent and expert spokesmen
of the workers, can negotiate with the capitalist employers. By strike at the right
'\
THE FIGHT 59
moment, supported by the entire power of the union, and by ensuing negotia-
tions, agreements can be reached about better and more unifoml wages and
about fair working hours, in so far as the latter are not yet fixed by law,
So the workers are no longer powerless individuals, forced by hunger to sell
their labor-power at any price. They are now protected by their union, pro-
tected by the power of tlleir own solidarity and cooperation; for every member
not only gives part of his earnings for the colleagues, but is ready also to risk
his job in defending the organization, their community, Thus a certain equilib-
rium is reached between the power of the employers and the power of the
workers. The working conditions are no longer dictated by all-powerful capi-
talist interests. The unions are recognized gradually as representatives of the
workers' interests; though ever again fighting is necessary, they become a
power that takes part in the decisions. Not in all trades surely, and not at once
everywhere. Usually skilled craftsmen are the first in building Lheir unions.
The unskilled masses in the great factories, standing against more powerful
employers, mostly come later; their unions often started from sudden outbursts
of great fights. And against the monopolistic owners of giant enterprises the
unions have little chance; these all powerful capitalists wish to be absolute mas-
ter, and in their haughtiness they hardly allow even servile yellow shop unions.
Apart from this restriction, and even assuming trade unionism to be fully
developed and in control of all industry, this does not mean that exploitation is
abolished, that capitalism is repressed. What is repressed is the arbitrariness of
the single capitalist; abolished are the worst abuses of exploitation. And this is
in the interest of the fellow-capitalists, too-to guard them against unfair com-
petition-and in the interest of capitalism at large. By the power of the unions
capitalism is normalized; a certain norm of exploitation is universally estab-
lished. A norm of wages, allowing for the most modest life exigencies, so Lhat
the workers are not driven again and again into hunger revolts, is necessary for
uninterrupted production. A norm of working hours, not quite exhausting the
vitality of Lhe working dass-though reduction of hours is largely neutralized
by acceleration of tempo and more intense exertion-is necessary for capitalism
itself, to preserve a usable working class as the basis of future exploitation. It
was the working class that by its fight against the narrowness of capitalist greed
had to establish the conditions of normal capitalism. And ever again it has to
fight, to preserve the uncertain equilibrium. In this fight the trade unions are
the instruments; Lhus the unions perform an indispensable function in capital-
ism. Narrow-minded employers do not see this, but their broader-minded polit-
ical leaders know quite well that trade unions are an essential element of
talism, that without the workers' unions as normalizing power capitalism is not
complete, Though products of the workers' fight, kept up by their pains and
efforts, trade unions are at the same time organs of capitalist society,
60 WORKERS' COUNCILS
With the development of capitalism, however, conditions gradually grow
more unfavorable for the workers. Big capital grows, feels its power, and wish-
es to be master at home. Capitalists also have learned to understand the power
of association; they organize into employers' unions. So instead of the equality
of forces arises a new ascendancy of capitaL Strikes are countered by lock-outs
that drain the funds of the trade unions. The money of the workers cannot
compete with the money of the capitalists. In the bargaining about wages and
working conditions the unions are more than. ever the weaker party, because
they have to fear, and hence must try to avoid great fights that exhaust the
reserves and thereby endanger the secured existence of the organization and its
officials. In the negotiations the union officials often have to accept a lowering
of conditions in order to avoid fighting. To them this is unavoidable and
self-evident, because they realize that by the changed conditions the relative
fighting power of their organization has diminished.
For the workers, however, it is not self-evident that they are silently to
accept harder working and living conditions. They want to fight. So a contra-
diction of viewpoints arises. The officials seem to have common sense on their
side; they know that the unions are at a disadvantage and that fight must result
in defeat. But the workers feel by instinct that great fighting powers still lie hid-
den in their masses; if only they knew how to use them. They rightly realize
that by yielding, again and again, their position must grow worse, and that this
can be prevented only by fighting. So conflicts must arise in the unions between
the officials and the members. The members protest against the new tariffs
[awards] favorable to the employer s ; the officials defend the agreements
reached by long and difficult negotiations and try to have them ratified. So they
often have to act as spokesmen of capital interests against workers' interests.
And because they are the influential rulers of the unions throwing all the
weight of power and authority on this side, the unions in other hands may be
said to develop into organs of capital.
The growth of capitalism, the increase of the number of workers, the urgent
necessity of association, make the trade unions giant organizations, needing an
ever increasing staff of officials and leaders. These develop into a bureaucracy
administering all business, a ruling power over the members, because all the
power factors are in their hands. As the experts they prepare and manage all
affairs; they administrate the finances and the spending of money for different
purposes; they are editors of the union papers, by which they can force their
own ideas and points of view upon the members. Formal democracy prevails;
the members in their assemblies, the chosen delegates in the congresses have to
decide, just as the people decide politics in Parliament and State. But the same
influences that render Parliament and Government lords over the people are
operative in these Parliaments of Labor. They turn the alert bureaucracy of
expert officials into a kind of union govermnent, over the members absorbed
THE FIGHT 61
by their daily work and cares. Not solidarity, the proletarian virtue, but disci-
pline, obedience to the decisions is asked from them. Thus there arises a dif-
ference in viewpoint, a contrast in opinions on the various questions. It is
enhanced by the difference in life conditions: the insecurity of the workers' job,
always threatened by depression forces and unemployment, as contrasted to
the security that is necessary for officials to well-manage the union affairs.
It was the task and the function of trade unionism, by their joint united fight
to raise the workers out of their helpless misery, and to gain for them an
acknowledged place in capitalist society. It had to defend the workers against
ever increasing exploitation of capitaL Now that big capital consolidates
more than ever into a monopolistic power of banks and industrial concerns,
this former function of trade unionism is fmished. Its power falls short com-
pared to the formidable power of capital. The unions are now giant organiza-
tions, with their acknowledged place in society; their position is regulated by
law, and their tariff [Court Award] agreements are given legally binding force
for the entire industry. Their leaders aspire at forming part of the power ruling
industrial conditions. They are the apparatus by means of which monopolistic
capital imposes its conditions upon the entire working class. To this now
all-powerful capital it normally, far more preferable to disguise its rule in
democratic and constitutional forms than to show it in the naked brutality of
dictatorship. The working conditions which it thinks suitable to the workers
will be accepted and obeyed much more easily in the form of agreements con-
cluded by the unions than in the form of dictates arrogantly imposed. Firstly,
because to the workers the illusion is left that they are masters of their own
interests. Secondly, because all the bonds of attachment, which as their own
creation, the creation of their sacrifices, their fight, their elation, render the
unions dear to the workers, now are subservient to the masters. Thus under
modern conditions trade unions more than ever are turned into organs of the
domination of monopolist capital Over the working class.
2. DIRECT ACTION
As an instrument of fight for the working class against capital the trade
unions are losing their importance. But the fight itself cannot cease. The
depressing tendencies grow stronger under big capitalism and so the resistance
of the workers must grow stronger, too. Economic crises grow more and more
destructive and undermine apparently secured progress. The exploitation is
intensified to retard the lowering of the profit rate for rapidly increasing
tal. So again and again the workers are provoked to resistance. But against the
strongly increased power of capital the old methods of fight no longer can
serve. New methods are needed, and before long their beginnings present
62 WORKERS' COUNCILS
themselves. They spring up spontaneously in the wild [outlaw] strike, in the
direct action.
Direct action means action of thc workers themselves without the interme-
diary of trade union officials. A strike is called wild [outlaw or unofficial] as
contrasted to the strike proclaimed by the union according to the rules and reg-
ulations. The workers know that the latter is without effect, where the officials
against their own will and insight are made to proclaim it, perhaps thinking a
defeat a healthy lesson for the foolish workers, and in every case trying to fin-
ish it as soon as possible. Thus, when the pressure is too heavy, when negotia-
tions with the directors drag along without effect, at last in smaller or larger
groups the exasperation breaks loose in a wild strike.
Fight of the workers against capital is not possible without organization.
And organization springs up spontaneously, immediately. Not of course in such
form that a new union is founded, with a board chosen and regulations for-
mulated in ordered paragraphs. Sometimes, to be sure, it was done in this way;
attributing the inefficiency to personal shortcomings of the old leaders, and
embittered against the old trade union, they founded a new one, with their
most able and energetic men at the head. Then indeed in the begirming all was
energy and strong action; but in the long run the new union, if it remains small,
lacks power notwithstanding its activity, and if it grows large, of necessity
develops the same characteristics as the old one. After such experienccs the
workers at last will follow the other way, of keeping the direction of their
entirely in their own hands.
Direction in their own hands, also called their own leadership, means that
all initiative and all decisions proceed from the workers themselves. Though
there is a strike committee, because all cannot be always together, everything is
done by the strikers; continually in touch with one another they distribute the
work, they devise all measures and dccidc on all actions directly. Decision and
action, both collective, are one.
The first and most important task is the propaganda to expand the strike.
The pressure upon capital must be intensified. Against the enormous power of
capital not only the individual workers, but also the separate groups are pow-
erless. The sole power that is a match for capital is the firm unity of the entire
working class. Capitalists know or feel this quite well, and so the only induce-
ment to concessions is the fear the strike might spread universally. The more
manifestly determinate the will of the strikers, the greater the numbers taking
part in it, the more the chance of success.
Such an extension is possible because it is not the strike of a tardy group,
in worse conditions than others, trying to raise itself to the general level. Under
the new circumstances discontent is universal; all the workers feel depressed
under capitalist superiority; fuel for explosions has accumulated everywhere. It
is not for others, it is for themselves if they join the fight. As long as they feel
THE FIGHT 63
isolated, afraid to lose their job, uncertain what the comrades will do, without
firm unity, they shrink from action. Once, however, they take up the fight, they
are changed into new personalities; selfish fear recedes to the background and
forth spring the forces of community, solidarity and devotion, rousing courage
and perseverance. These are contagious; the example of fighting activity rous-
es in others, who feel in themselves the same forces awakening, the spirit of
mutual and of self-confidence. Thus the wild strikc as a prairic fire may spring
over to other enterprises and involve ever greater masses.
Such cannot be the work of a small number of leaders, cither union officials
or self-imposed new spokcsmen, though, of course, the push of some few
intrepid comrades may give strong impulses. It must be the will and the work
of all, in common initiative. The workers have not only to do, but also to con-
trive, to think out, to decide everything themselves. They cannot shift decision
and responsibility to a body, a union, that takes carc of them. They are entire-
ly responsible for their fight, success or failure depends on thcmselves. From
passive they have turned into active beings, determinedly taking their destiny
into their own hands. From separate individuals each caring for himself, they
have become a solid, firmly cemented
Such spontaneous strikes present yet another important side; the division of
the workers into different separate unions is effaced. In the trade union world
traditions from former petty-capitalist times play an important rolc in separat-
ing the workers in often competing, jealous and bickering corporations; in
some countries religious and political differences act as partition fences in
establishing separate liberal, catholic, socialist and other unions. In the work-
shop the membcrs of different unions stand beside one another. But even in
strikes they often are kept asunder, so as not to have them infected with too
much unity ideas, and the concordance in action and negotiation is solely kept
up by the boards and officials. Now, however, in direct actions, these differ-
enccs of union membership become unreal as outside labels. For such sponta-
neous fights unity is the first need; and unity there is, else there could be no
fight. All who stand together in the shop, in the very same position, as direct
associates, subject to the same exploitation, against the same master, stand
together in common action. Their real community is the shop; personnel of the
same enterprise, they form a natural union of common work, common lot and
common interests. Like specters from the past the old distinctions of different
membership fall back, almost forgotten in the new living reality of fellowship
in common fight. The vivid consciousness of new unity enhances the enthusi-
asm and the feeling of power.
Thus in the wild strikes some characteristics of thc coming forms of fight
make their appearance: first the self-action, the self-initiative, keeping all aetiv-
ity and decision in their own hands; and then the unity, irrespective of old
memberships, according to the natural grouping of the enterprises. These
64 WORKERS' COUNCILS
fOllls come up, not through shrewd planning, but spontaneously, irresistible,
urged by the heavy superior power of capital against which the old organiza-
tions cannot fight seriously any more. Hence it does not mean that now the
scales have turned, that now the workers win. Wild strikes mostly defeat;
their extent is too narrow. Only in some favorable cases they have success in
preventing a lowering in working conditions. Their importance is tlIat mey
demonstrate a fresh fighting spirit that cannot be suppressed. One of the deep-
est instincts of self-preservation, of duty against family and comrades, the will
to assent oneself ever again springs up. There is a gain of increasing
self-reliance and class-feeling. They are the harbingers of future greater fights,
when social emergencies, with heavier pressure and deeper distress, drive
the masses into stronger action.
When wild strikes break out on a larger scale, comprising great masses,
entire branches of industry, towns or districts, the organization has to assume
new forms. Deliberation in one assembly is impossible; but more than ever
mutual understanding is necessary for common action. Strike committees are
formed out of the delegates of all the persollllels, for continual discussion of cir-
cumstances. Such strike committees are entirely different from union boards of
officials; mey show the characteristics already of workers' councils. They come
up out of the fight, to give it unity of direction. But mey are no leaders in the
old sense, they have no direct power. The delegates, often different persons,
come to express the opinion and me will of me personnels [groups] that sent
them. For these persollllel stand for me action in which the will manifests itself.
Yet dIe delegates are no simple messengers of their mandatory groups;
took a foremost part in the discussion, mey embody the prevalent convictions.
In the committee assemblies the opinions are discussed and put to me test of
momentary circumstances; the results and me resolutions are brought back by
the delegates into the persollllel [group] assemblies. Through these intermedi-
aries the shop personnels themselves take part in the deliberations and deci-
sions. Thus unity of action for great masses is secured.
to be sure, in such a way that every group bows obediently to the deci-
sions of the comlnittee. There are no paragraphs to confer such power on it.
Unity in collective fighting is not the outcome of judicious regulation of com-
petencies but of spontaneous necessities in a sphere of passionate action. The
workers themselves decide, not because such a right is given to mem in accept-
ed rules, but because they actually decide, by meir actions. It may happen that
a gTOUp cannot convince other groups by arguments, but then by its action and
exanlple it carries them away. The self-determination of me workers over meir
fighting action is not a demand put up by theory, by arguments of practicabili-
ty, but the statement of a fact evolving from practice. Often in great social
movements it occurred-and doubtless will occur again-that me actions did not
comply with the decisions. Sometimes central comlnittees made an appeal for
THE FIGHT 65
universal strike, and only small groups here and mere followed; elsewhere the
committees weighed scrupulously, without venturing a decision, and the work-
ers broke loose in massal fight. It may be possible even that the same workers
who enmusiastically resolved to strike shrink back when standing before the
deed. Or, conversely, that prudent hesitation governs the decisions and yet,
driven by inner forces, a non-resolved strike irresistibly breaks out. Whereas in
their conscious thinking old watchwords and theories playa role and detemline
arguments and opinions, at me moment of decision on which weal and woe
depend, strong intuition of real conditions breaks forth, deterlllining the
actions. This does not mean that such intuition always guides right; people may
be mistaken in their impression of outer conditions. But it decides; it cannot be
replaced by foreign leadership, by guardians however clever, directing them. By
their own experiences in fight, in success and adversity, by tlIeir own efforts the
workers must acquire the capacities rightly to take care of their interests.
Thus the two forms of organization and fight stand in contrast, the old one
of trade unions and regulated strike, the new one of spontaneous strike and
workers' councils. This does not mean that the former at some time will be sim-
substituted by the latter as the only alternative. Intermediate forms may be
conceived, attempts to correct the evils and weakness of trade unionism and
preserve its right principles; to avoid the leadership of a bureaucracy of offi-
cials, to avoid the separation by narrow craft and trade interests, and to pre-
serve and utilize me experiences of former fights. This might be done by keep-
together, after a strike, a core of the best fighters, in one general union.
Wherever a strike breaks out spontaneously this union is present wim its
skilled propagandists and organizers to assist the inexperienced masses wim
their advice, to instruct, to organize, to defend them. In this way every fight
means a progress of organization, not in the sense of fees-paying membership,
but in the sense growing class unity.
An example for such a union might be found in the great American union
"Industrial Workers of the World" (lW.W.). At the end of last century in con-
trast to the conservative trade unions of well-paid skilled labor, united in the
"American Federation of Labor," it grew up out of special American conditions.
Partly out of the fierce struggles of the lniners and lumbermen, independent
pioneers in the wilds of the Far West, against big capital that had monopolized
and seized the riches of wood and soiL Partly out of the hunger strikes of the
miserable masses of immigrants from Eastern and Southern Europe, accumu-
lated and exploited in the factories of the Eastern towns and in the coal mines,
despised and neglected by me old unions. The LW.W. provided them wim
experienced strike leaders and organizers, who showed dIem how to stand
against police terrorism, who defended them before public opinion and the
courts, who taught them the practice of solidarity and unity and opened to
them wider views on society, on capitalism and class fight. In such big fights
66 WORKERS' COUNCILS
ten thousands of new members joined the LW.W., of whom only a small frac-
tion remained. This "one big union" was adapted to the wild growth of
American capitalism in the days when it built up its power by subjecting the
masses of the independent pioneers.
Similar forms of fight and organization may be propagated and may come
up elsewhere, when in big strikes the workers stand up, without as yet having
the complete self-confidence of taking matters entirely in their own hands. But
as temporary transition forms. There is a fundamental difference between
the conditions of future fight in big industry and those of America in the past.
There it was the rise, now it will be the downfall of capitalism. There the
rugged independence of pioneers or the primitive existence-seeking egoism of
immigrants were the expression of a middle class individualism that had to be
curbed under the yoke of capitalist exploitation. Now masses trained to disci-
pline during a life time by machine and capital, connected by strong technical
and spiritual ties to the productive apparatus, organize its utilization on the new
basis of collaboration. These workers are thoroughly proletarian, all obstinacy
of middle class individualism having been worn off long ago by the habit of col-
laborate work. The forces of solidarity and devotion hidden in them only wait
for great fights to develop into a dominating life principle. Then even the most
suppressed layers of the working class, who only hesitatingly join their com-
rades, wanting to lean upon their example, will soon feel the new forces of
community growing also in themselves. Then they will perceive that the fight
for freedom asks not only their adherence but the development of all their pow-
ers of self-activity and self-reliance. Thus overcoming all intermediate forms of
partial self-determination the progress will definitely go the way of council
organization.
3. SHOP OCCUPATION
Under the new conditions of capitalism a new form of fight for better work-
ing conditions came up, the shop occupation, mostly called sit-down strike, the
workers ceasing to work but not leaving the factory. It was not invented by the-
ory, it arose spontaneously out of practical needs; theory can do no more than
afterwards explain its causes and consequences. In the great world crisis of
1930 unemployment was so universal and lasting that there arose a kind of
class antagonism between the privileged number of employed and the unem-
masses. Any regular strike against wage cuttings was made impossible,
because the shops after being left by the strikers, immediately would be flood-
ed by the masses outside. So the refusal to work under worse conditions must
needs be combined with sticking to the place of work by occupying the shop.
Having sprung up, however, in these special circumstances, the sit-down
strike displays some characteristics that make it worth while to consider it more
THE FIGHT 67
closely as the expression of a further developed fighting form. It manifests the
formation of a more solid unity. In the old form of strike the working commu-
nity of the personnel dissolved when leaving the shop. Dispersed over the
streets and homes between other people they were separated into loose indi-
viduals. To discuss and decide as one body they had then to assemble in meet-
ing halls, in streets and squares. However often police and authorities tried to
hinder or even to forbid this, the workers held fast to their right of using them,
through the consciousness that they fought with legitimate means for lawful
aims. The legality of trade union practice was generally recognized by
When, however, this legality is not recognized, when the increasing power
of big capital over State authorities disputes the use of hall and square for
assemblies, the workers, if they will fight, have to assert their rights by taking
them. In America every great strike was as a rule accompanied by a continu-
ous fight with the police over the use of the streets and rooms for The
sit-down strike releases the workers from this necessity by their taking the right
to assemble at the adequate place, in the shop. At the same time the strike is
made truly efficient by the impossibility of strike-breakers to take their places.
Of course this entails new stiff fighting. The capitalists as owners of the
shop consider occupation by the strikers as a violation of their ownership; and
on this juridical argument they call for the police to turn the workers out.
Indeed, from the strict puridical viewpoint, shop occupation is in conflict with
law. Just as strike is in conflict with formal law. And in fact the employ-
er regularly appealed to this formal law as a weapon in the fight, by stigmatiz-
ing the strikers as contract breakers, thus giving him the right to put new work-
ers in their places. But against this juridical logic strikes have persisted and
developed as a form of fight; because they were necessary.
Formal law, indeed, does not represent the inner reality of capitalism, but
only its outer forms, to which middle class and juridical opinion cling.
Capitalism in reality is not a world of equal and contracting individuals, but a
world of fighting classes. When the power of the workers was too small the
middle class opinion of formal law prevailed, the strikers as contract breakers
were turned out and replaced by others. Where, however, trade union fight had
won its place, a new and truer juridical conception asserted itself: a strike is not
a break, not a cessation, but a temporary suspending of the labor contract, to
settle the dispute over working terms. Lawyers may not accept theoretically this
point of view, but society does, practically.
In the same way shop occupation asserted itself as a method in fight, where
it was needed and where the workers were able to take a stand. Capitalists and
lawyers might splutter over the violation of property rights. For the workers,
however, it was an action that did not attack the property rights but only tem-
porarily suspended their effects. Shop occupation is not shop-expropriation. It
68 WORKERS' COUNCILS
is only a momentary suspension of the disposal by the capitalist. After the con-
test has been settled, he is master and undisputed owner as before.
Yet, at the same time, it is more. In it, as in a light flash at the horizon, a
glimpse of future development springs up. By shop occupation the workers,
unwittingly, demonstrate that their fight has entered into a new phase. Here
their firm inte:tjunction as a shop organization appears, a natural unity not to
be dissolved into single individuals. Here the workers become conscious of
their intimate connection with the shop. To them it is not another man's build-
where only at his command they come to work for him till he sends them
away. To them the shop with its machines is a productive apparatus they han-
an organ that only by their work is made a living part of society. It is noth-
ing foreign to them; they are at home here, much more than the juridical own-
ers, the shareholders who do not even know its whereabouts. In the factory the
workers grow conscious of the contents of their life, their productive work their
work-community as a collectivity that makes it a living organism, an element
of the totality of society. Here, in shop occupation a vague feeling arises that
they ought to be entirely master of production, that they ought to expel the
unworthy outsiders, the commanding capitalists, who abuse it in wasting the
riches of mankind and in devastating the earth. And in the heavy fight that will
be necessary, the shops again will play a primary role, as the units of organi-
zation, of common action, perhaps as the supports and strongholds, pivots of
force and objects of struggle. Compared with the natural connection of work-
ers and shops the conunand of capital appears as an artificial outside domina-
tion, powerful as yet, but hanging in the air; whereas the growing hold of the
workers is firmly rooted in the earth. Thus in shop occupation the future
casts its light in the growing consciousness that the shops belong with the work-
ers, that together they form a harmonious unity, and that the fight for freedom
will be fomrht over, in, and by means of the shops.
4. POLITICAL STRIKES
Not all the great strikes of the workers in the last century were fought over
wages and working conditions. Besides the so-called economic strikes, political
strikes occurred. Their object was the promotion or the prevention of a politi-
cal measure. They were not directed against the employers but against State
government, to induce it to give to the workers more political rights, or to dis-
suade it from obnoxious acts. Thus it could happen that the employers agreed
with the aims and promoted the strike.
A certain amount of social equality and political rights for the working class
is necessary in capitalism. Modern industrial production is based upon intricate
teclmics, product of highly developed knowledge, and demands careful per-
sonal collaboration and caoabilitv of the workers. The utmost exertion of
THE FIGHT 69
forces cannot, as in the case of coolies or slaves, be enforced by rough physical
compulsion, by whip or outrage; it would be revenged by equally rough-mis-
of the tools. The constraint must come from inner motives,
moral means of pressure based upon individual responsibility. The workers
must not feel powerless embittered slaves; tlley must have the means to go
against inflicted wrongs. They have to feel themselves free sellers of their
labor-power, exerting all their forces, because, formally and apparently, they
are determining their own lot in the general competition. To maintain them-
selves as a working class they need not only the personal liberty and legal
equality proclaimed by middle class laws: Special rights and liberties, too, are
necessary to secure these possibilities; the right of association, the right of meet-
ing in assembly, the right to form unions, freedom of speech, freedom of press.
And all these political rights must be protected by universal suffrage, for the
workers to assert their influence over Parliament and law.
Capitalism began by refusing these rights, assisted herein by the inherited
despotism and backwardness of existing governments, and tried to make the
workers powerless victims of its exploitation. Only gradually, in consequence
of fierce struggle against inhuman oppression, some rights were won. Because
in its first stage capitalism feared the hostility of the lower classes, the artisans
impoverished by its competition, and the workers starved by low wages, the
suffrage was kept restricted to the wealthy classes. Only in later times, when
capitalism was fIrmly rooted, when its profits were large and its rule was
secured, the restrictions on the ballot were gradually removed. But only under
compulsion of strong pressure, often of hard fight from the side of the workers.
Fight for democracy fills the history of home politics during the 19
th
century,
first in England, and then in all countries where capitalism introduced itself.
In England universal suffrage was one of the main points of the charter of
demands put up by the English workers in the Chartist movement, their first
and most glorious period of Their agitation had been a strong induce-
ment to the ruling land owner class to yield to the pressure of the simultaneous
Reform movement of the rising industrial capitalists. So through the Reform
Act 1832 the industrial employers got their share in political power; but the
workers had to go home empty-handed, and to continue their strenuous strug-
'Inen, at the climax of Chartism, a "holy month" was projected in 1839,
when all the work had to rest till the demands were granted. Thus the English
workers were the fIrst to proclaim the political strike as a weapon in their fight.
But it could not be put into effect; and at an outburst (1842) it had to be bro-
ken off without success; it could not curb the power of the now com-
bined ruling classes of landowners and factory owners. Not till a generation
later, when after a period of unprecedented industrial prosperity and expansion
the propaganda was once more taken up, now by the trade unions combined
in the "International Workers' Association" (the "First International" of Marx
70 WORKERS' COUNCILS
and Engels), public opinion in the middle class was ready to extend, in con-
secutive steps, the suffrage to the working class.
In France universal suffrage since 1848 formed part of republican constitu-
tion, dependent as such government always was on the support of the workers.
In Germany the foundation of the Empire, in the years 1866-70, product of a
feverish capitalist development activating the entire population, entailed uni-
versal suffrage as a warrant of continued contact with the masses of the people.
But in many other countries the propertied class, often only a privileged part
of kept fast to its monopoly of political influence. Here the campaign for the
ballot, obviously the to political power and freedom, roused ever larger
parts of the working class to participation, to organization and to political activ-
ity. Conversely, the fear of the propertied classes for political domination of the
proletariat stiffened their resistance. Formally the matter looked hopeless for
the masses; universal suffrage had to be legally enacted by a Parliament cho-
sen by the privileged minority, ,rod thus invited to destroy its own foundations.
This implies that only by extraordinary means, by pressure from outside, fInal-
ly by political mass strikes the aim could be achieved. How it happens may be
learned from the classical example of the Belgian suffrage strike in 1893.
In Belgium, through a limited census-suffrage, government was perpetually
in the hands of a small clique of conservatives of the clerical party. Labor con-
ditions in the coal mines and factories were notoriously among the worst in
Europe and led to explosions in frequent strikes. Extension of suffrage as a way
to social reform, frequently proposed by some few liberal parliamentarians,
always again was defeated by the conservative majority. Then the Workers'
Party, agitating, organizing and preparing for many years, decided upon a uni-
versal strike. Such a strike had to exert political pressure during the parlia-
mentary discussion on a new suffrage proposal. It had to demonstrate the
intense interest and the grim will of the masses, who abandoned their work to
give all attention to this fundamental question. It had to arouse all the indif-
ferent elements among the workers and the small business men to take part in
what for all of them was a life interest. It had to show the narrow-minded rulers
the social power of the working class, to impress upon them that it refused
longer to be kept under tutelage. At fIrst, of course, the parliamentary majori-
ty took a stand, refused to be coerced by pressure from outside, wishing to
decide after their own will and conscience; so it took the suffrage bill from the
rolls and ostensibly began to discuss other matters. But in the meantime the
strike went on, extended more than before, and brought production to a stand-
traffIc ceased, and even dutiful public services became restive. The gov-
ernmental apparatus itself was hampered in its functions; and in the business
world, with the growing feeling of uncertainty, opinion became loud that to
grant the demands was less dangerous than to provoke a catastrophe. So the
THE FIGHT 71
determination of the parliamentarians began to crumble; they felt that they had
to choose between yielding or crushing the strike by military force.
But could the soldiers be trusted in such a case? Thus their resistance had
to give way; will and conscience had to be revised, and at last they accepted
and enacted the proposals. The workers, by means of a political strike, had
reached their aim and won their fundamental political right.
Mter such a success many workers and their spokesmen supposed that this
new powerful weapon could be used oftener to win important reforms. But
therein they were disappointed; the history of labor movement knows of more
failures than successes in political strikes. Such a strike tries to impose the will
of the workers upon a government of the capitalist class. It is somewhat of a
revolt, a revolution, and calls up in that class the instincts of self-defense and
the impulses of suppression. These instincts were repressed when part of the
bourgeoisie itself grew annoyed by the backwardness of political institutions
and felt the need of fresh reforms. Then tbe mass action of the workers was an
instrument to modernize capitalism. Because the workers were united and full
of enthusiasm, whereas the propertied class in any case was divided, the strike
succeeded. It could succeed not because the weakness of the capitalist class,
but because of the strength of capitalism. Capitalism is strengthened when its
roots, by universal suffrage, securing at least political equality, are driven deep-
er into the working class. Workers' suffrage belongs to developed capitalism;
because the workers need the ballot, as well as trade unions, to maintain them-
selves in their function in capitalism.
If now, however, in minor points they should suppose themselves able to
impose their will against the real interests of the capitalists, they fInd this class
as a solid unity against them. They feel it as by instinct; and not being carried
away by a great inspiring aim that dispels all hesitations, they remain uncertain
and divided. Every group, seeing that the strike is not universal, hesitates in its
turn. Volunteers of the other classes offer themselves for the most needed serv-
ices and traffIc though they arc not really able to uphold production, their
activity at least discourages the strikers. Prohibition of assemblies, display of
armed forces, martial law may still more demonstrate the power of government
and the will to usc it. So the strike begins to crumble and must be discontin-
ued, often with considerable losses and disillusion for the defeated organiza-
tions. In experiences like these the workers discovered that by its inner strength
capitalism is able to withstand even well organized and massal assaults. But at
the same time they felt sure that in mass strikes, if only applied at the right
time, they possess a powerful weapon.
This view was confIrmed in the first Russian Revolution of 1905. It exhib-
ited an entirely new character in mass-strikes. Russia at that time showed only
the beginnings of capitalism: some few large factories in great towns, support-
ed mostly by foreign capital with State subsidies, where starving peasants
72 WORKERS' COUNCILS
flocked to work as industrial hands. Trade unions and strikes were forbidden;
government was primitive and despotic. The Socialist Party, consisting of intel-
lectuals and workers, had to fight for what middle-class revolutions in Western
Europe had already established: the destruction of absolutism and the intro-
duction of constitutional rights and law. Hence the fight of the Russian work-
ers was bound to be spontaneous and chaotic. First as wild strikes against mis-
erable working conditions, severely suppressed by Cossacks and police, then
acquiring a political character, in demonstrations and the unfolding of red flags
in the streets, the struggle manifest itself. When the Japanese war of 1905 had
weakened the Czarist government and shown up its inner rottenness, the rev-
olution broke out as a series of wild-strike movements on a gigantic scale. Now
they flamed up, springing like wildfire from one factory, one town to another,
bringing the entire industry to a standstill; then they dissolved into minor local
strikes, dying away after some concessions from the employers, or smoldered
until new outbreaks carne. Often there were street demonstrations and fights
against police and soldiers. Days of victory came where the delegates of the fac-
tories assembled unmolested to discuss the situation, then, joined by deputa-
tions of other groups, of rebellious soldiers even, to express their sympathy,
whilst the authorities stood passively by. Then again the Government made a
move and arrested the entire body of delegates, and the strike ended in apathy.
Till at last, in a series of barricade fights in the capital cities the movement was
crushed by military force.
In Western Europe political strikes had been carefully premeditated actions
for specially indicated aims, directed by the union or the Socialist Party lead-
ers. In Russia the strike movement was the revulsion of heavily abused human-
ity, uncontrolled, as a storm or a flood forcing its way. It was not the fight of
organized workers claiming along denied right; it was the rise of a down-trod-
den mass to human consciousness in the only form of fight then possible. Here
there could be no question of success or defeat, the fact of an outbreak was
already a victory, no more to be undone, the beginning of, a new epocll. In out-
ward appearance the movement was crushed and Czarist government again
was master. But in reality these strikes had struck a blow at Czarism from
which it could not recover. Some reforms were introduced, political, industrial
and agrarian. But the whole fabric of the State with its arbitrary despotism of
incapable chinowniks could not be modernized, it had to disappear. This revo-
lution prepared the next one, in which old barbarous Russia was to be
destroyed.
The first Russian revolution has strongly influenced the ideas of the work-
ers in Central and Western Europe. Here a new development of capitalism had
set in that made felt the need of new and more powerful methods of fight, for
defense and for attack. Economic prosperity, which began in the nineties and
lasted till the first world war, brought an unprecedented increase of production
THE FIGHT 73
and wealth. Industry expanded, especially iron and steel industry, new markets
were opened, railways and factories were built in foreign countries and other
continents; now for the first time capitalism spread allover the earth. America
and Germany were the scenes of the most rapid industrial development. Wages
increased, unemployment nearly disappeared, the trade unions grew into mass
organizations. The workers were filled with hopes of continual progress in
prosperity and influence, and visions loomed up of a coming age of industrial
democracy.
But then, at the other side of society, they saw another image. Big capital
concentrated production and finance, wealth and power, in a few hands and
built up strong industrial concerns and capitalist associations. Its need for
expansion, for the disposal over foreign markets and raw materials, inaugurat-
ed the policy of imperialism, a policy of stronger ties to old, and conquest of
new colonies, a policy of growing antagonism between the capitalist classes of
different countries, and of increasing armaments. The old peaceful freetrade
ideals of the "little Englanders" were ridiculed and gave way to new ideals of
national greatness and power. Wars broke out in all continents, in the
Transvaal, in China, Cuba, and the Phillipines, in the Balkans; England con-
solidated its Empire, and Germany, claiming its share in world power, prepared
for world war. Big capital in its growing power ever more determined the char-
acter and opinions of the entire bourgeoisie, filling it with its anti-democratic
spirit of violence. Though sometimes it tried to lure the workers by the
prospect of a share in the spoils, there was on the whole less inclination than in
previous times to make concessions to labor. Every strike for better wages,
engaged in order to catch up with rising prices, met with stiffer resistance.
Reactionary and aristocratic tendencies got hold of the ruling class; it spoke not
of extension but of restriction of popular rights, and threats were heard, espe-
cially in continental countries, of suppressing the workers' discontent by vio-
lent means.
Thus circumstances had changed and were changing ever more. The power
of the working class had increased through its organization and its political
action. But the power of the capitalist class had increased still more. This means
that heavier clashes between the two classes might be expected. So the workers
had to look for other and stronger methods of fight. What were they to do if
regularly even the most justifiable strikes are met by big lock-outs, or if their
parliamentary rights are reduced or circumvented, or if capitalist government
will make war notwithstanding their urgent protests?
It is easily seen that under such conditions there was among the foremost
elements of the working class much thought and discussion on mass action and
the political strike, and that the general strike was propagated as a means
against the outbreak of war. Studying the examples of such actions as the
Belgian and the Russian strikes, they had to consider the conditions, the pos-
74 WORKERS' COUNCILS
:>lIJlllUC:>, and the consequences of mass-actions and political strikes in the most
highly developed capitalist countries with strong governments and powerful
capitalist classes. It was clear that strong odds were against them. What could
not have happened in Belgium and Russia would be the immediate result here:
the annihilation of their organizations. If the combined trade unions, Socialist
or Labor Parties should proclaim a general strike, Government, sure of the sup-
port of the entire ruling and middle class, doubtless would be able to imprison
the leaders, persecute the organizations as endangering the safety of the State,
suppress their papers, by a state of siege prevent all mutual contact of the strik-
ers, and by mobilizing military forces, assert its undisputed public power.
Against this display of power the workers, isolated, exposed to the threats and
calumnies, disheartened by distorted information from the press, would have
no chance. Their organizations would be dissolved and break down. And the
organizations lost, the fruits of years of devoted struggle, all is lost.
'Ibus the political and labor leaders asserted. Indeed, to them, with their
outlook entirely limited within the confines of present forms of organization it
must appear so. So they are fundamentally opposed to political strikes. This
means that in this form, as premeditated and well decided actions of the exist-
organizations, directed their leaders, such political strikes are not possi-
ble. As little as a thunderstorm in a placid atmosphere. It may be true that, for
special aims entirely within the capitalist system, a political strike remains
entirely within the bounds of legal order, so that after it is over capitalism
resumes its ordinary course. But this truth does not prevent the ruling class
from being angrily aroused against every display of workers' power, nor polit-
ical strikes from having consequences far beyond their immediate aims. When
social conditions become intolerable for the workers, when social or political
crises are threatening them with ruin, it is inevitable that mass-actions and
gigantic strikes break forth spontaneously, as the natural foml of fight, notwith-
standing all objections and resistance of the existing unions, irresistibly, like
thunderstorms out of a heavy electric tension in the atmosphere. And again the
workers face the question whether they have any chance against the power of
State and capita1.
It is not true that with a forcible suppression of their organizations all is lost.
These are only the outer form of what in essence lives within. To think that by
such Government measures the workers suddenly should change into the self-
narrow-minded, isolated individuals of olden times! In their hearts all the
powers of solidarity, of comradeship, of devotion to the class remain living, are
growing even more intense through the adverse conditions; and they will assert
tllemselves in other forms. If these powers are strong enough no force from
above can break the unity of the strikers. Where they suffer defeat it is mainly
due to discouragement No government power can compel them to work; it can
only prohibit active deeds; it can do no more a than threaten and try to intim-
THE }'IGHT 75
idate them, by fear to dissolve their unity. It depends on the inner strength
of the workers, on the spirit of organization within them, whether that can be
successful. Certainly thus the highest demands are made on social and moral
qualities; but just for this reason these qualities will be strained to the highest
possible pitch and will be hardened as steel in the fire.
This is not the affair of one action, one strike. In every such contest the
force of the workers is put to the test, whether their unity is strong enough to
resist the attempts of the ruling powers to break it. Every contest arouses new
strenuous efforts to strengthen it so as not to be broken. And when,
the workers remain steadfast, when notwithstanding all acts of intimidation, of
suppression, of isolation, they hold out, when there is no yielding of any group,
then it is on the other side that the effects of the strike become manifest. Society
is paralyzed, production and traffic are stopped, or reduced to a minimum, the
functioning of all public life is hampered, the middle classes are alarmed and
may begin to advise concessions. The authority of Government, unable to
restore the old order, is shaken. Its power always consisted in the solid organi-
zation of all officials and services, directed by unity of purpose embodied in
one self-sure will, all of them accustomed by duty and conviction to follow the
intentions and instructions of the central authorities. When, however, it stands
against the mass of the people, it feels itself ever more what it really is, a ruling
minority, inspiring awe only as long as it seemed all-powerful, powerful only as
as it was undisputed, as long as it was the only solidly organized body in
an ocean of unorganized individuals. But now the majority also is solidly
organized, not in outward forms but in inner unity. Standing before the impos-
sible task of imposing its will upon a rebellious population, Government grows
uncertain, divided, nervous, trying different ways. Moreover, the strike
impedes the intercommunication of the authorities all over the country, isolates
the local ones, and throws them back upon their own resources. Thus the
organization of State power begins to lose its inner strength and solidity.
N either can the use of armed forces help otherwise than by more violent
threats. Finally the army consists either of workers too, in different dress and
under the menace of stricter law, but not intended to be used against their com-
rades; or it is a minority over against the entire people. If put to the strain of
being commanded to fire at unarmed citizens and comrades, the imposed dis-
cipline in the long run must give way. And then State power, besides its moral
authority, would have lost its strongest material weapon to keep the masses in
obedience.
Such considerations of the important consequences of mass strikes, once
that great social crises stir up the masses to a desperate fight, could mean of
course no more than the view of a possible future. For the moment, under the
effects of industrial prosperity, there were no forces strong enough
to drive the workers into such actions. Against the threatening war their unions
76 WORKERS' COUNCILS
and parties restricted themselves to professing their pacifism and international
feelings, without the will and the daring to call upon the masses for a desper-
ate resistance. So the ruling class could force the workers into its capitalist
mass-action, into world war. It was the collapse of the appearances and illusions
of self-satisfied power of the working class at the time, now disclosed as irmer
weakness and insufficiency.
One of the elements of weakness was the lack of a distinct goal. There was
not, and could not be, any clear idea of what had to come after successful
mass-actions. The effects of mass strikes so far appeared destructive only, not
constructive. This was not true, to be sure; decisive inner qualities, the basis of
a new society, develop out of the fights. But the outer forms in which they had
to take shape were unknown; nobody in the capitalist world at the time had
heard of workers' councils. Political strikes can only be a temporary form of
battle; after the strike constructive labor has to provide for permanency.
5. THE RUSSIAN REVOLUTION
The Russian revolution was an important episode in the development of
the working class movement. Firstly, as already mentioned, by the display of
new forms of political strike, instruments of revolution. Moreover, in a higher
degree, by the first appearance of new forms of self-organization of the fighting
workers, known as soviets, i.e., councils. In 1705 they were hardly noticed as a
special phenomenon and they disappeared with the revolutionary activity itself.
In 1917 they reappeared with greater power; now their importance was grasped
by the workers of Western Europe, and they played a role here in the class
struggles after the first world war.
The soviets, essentially, were simply strike committees, such as always arise
in wild strikes. Since the strikes in Russia broke out in large factories, and rap-
expanded over towns and districts, the workers had to keep in continual
touch. In the shops the workers assembled and discussed regularly after the
dose of the work, or in times of tension even continually, the entire day. TIley
sent their delegates to other factories and to the central committees, where
information was interchanged, difficulties discussed, decisions taken, and new
tasks considered.
But here the tasks proved more encompassing than in ordinary strikes. The
workers had to throw off the heavy oppression of Czarism; they felt that by
their action Russian society was changing in its foundations. TIley had to con-
sider not only wages and labor conditions in their shops, but all questions relat-
ed to society at large. They had to find their own way in these realms and to
take decisions on political matters. When the strike flared up, extended over
the entire country, stopped all industry and traffic and paralyzed the functions
of government, the soviets were confronted with new problems. They had to
THE FIGHT 77
regulate public life, they had to take care of public security and order, they had
to provide for the indispensible public utilities and services. They had to per-
form governmental functions; what they decided was executed by the workers,
whereas Government and police stood aloof, conscious of their impotence
against the rebellious masses. Then the delegates of other groups, of intellec-
tuals, of peasants, of soldiers, who came to join the central soviets, took part in
the discussions and decisions. But all this power was like a flash of lightning,
like a meteor passing. When at last the Czarist government mustered its mili-
tary forces and beat down the movement the soviets disappeared.
Thus it was in 1905. In 1917 the war had weakened government through
the defeats at the front and the hunger in the towns, and now the soldiers,
mostly peasants, took part in the action. Besides the workers' councils in the
town soldiers' councils were formed in the army; the officers were shot when
they did not acquiesce in the soviets taking all power into their hands to pre-
vent entire anarchy. Mter half a year of vain attempts on the part of politicians
and military commanders to impose new governments, the soviets, supported
by the socialist parties, were master of society.
Now the soviets stood before a new task. From organs of revolution they
had to become organs of reconstruction. The masses were master and of course
began to build up production according to their needs and life interests. What
they wanted and did was not determined, as always in such cases, by inculcat-
ed doctrines, but by their own class character, by their conditions of life. What
were these conditions? Russia was a primitive agrarian country with only the
beginning of industrial development. The masses of the people were uncivi-
lized and ignorant peasants, spiritually dominated by a gold glittering church,
and even the industrial workers were strongly connected with their old villages.
The village soviets arising everywhere were self-governing peasant committees.
They seized the large estates of the former great landowners and divided them
up. The development went in the direction of small freeholders with private
property, and presented already the distinctions between larger and smaller
properties, between influential wealthy and more humble poor farnlCrs.
In the towns, on the other hand, there could be no development to private
capitalist industry because there was no bourgeoisie of any significance. TIle
workers wanted some form of socialist production, the only one possible under
these conditions. But their minds and character, only superficially touched by
the beginnings of capitalism, were hardly adequate to the task of tllemsclves
regulating production. So their foremost and leading elements, the socialists of
the Bolshevist Party, organized and hardened by years of devoted fight, their
leaders in the revolution became the leaders in the reconstruction. Moreover,
were these working class tendencies not to be droVv'l1ed by the flood of aspira-
tions for private property coming from the land, a strong central government
had to be formed, able to restrain the peasants' tendencies. In this heavy task
l
78 WORKERS' COUNCILS
of organizing industry, of organizing the defensive war against counter-revolu-
tionary attacks, of subduing the resistance of capitalist tendencies among the
peasants, and of educating them to modern scientific ideas instead of their old
beliefs, all the capable elements among the workers and intellectuals, supple-
mented by such of the former officials and officers as were willing to co-oper-
ate, had to combine into the Bolshevist Party as the leading body. It formed the
new government. The soviets gradually were eliminated as organs of self-rule,
and reduced to subordinate organs of the government apparatus. The name of
Soviet-Republic, however, was preserved as a camouflage, and the ruling party
retained the name of Communist Party.
The system of production developed in Russia is State socialism. It is organ-
ized production with the State as universal employer, master of the entire pro-
duction apparatus. The workers are master of the means of production no
more than under Western capitalism. They receive their wages and are exploit-
ed by the State as the only mammoth capitalist. So the name State capitalism
can be applied with precisely the same meaning. The entirety of the ruling and
leading bureaucracy of officials is the actual owner of the factories, the pos-
sessing class. Not separately, everyone for a part, but together, collectively, they
are possessors of the whole. Theirs the function and the task to do what the
bourgeoisie did in Western Europe and America: develop industry and the pro-
ductivity oflabor. They had to change Russia from a primitive barbarous coun-
of peasants into a modern, civilized country of great industry. And before
long, in often cruelly waged class war between the peasants and the rulers,
State-controlled big agrarian enterprises replaced the backward small farms.
The revolution, therefore, has not, as deceptive propaganda pretends, made
Russia a land where the workers are master and communism reigns. Yet it
meant progress of enOrmous significance. It may be compared with the great
French revolution: it destroyed the power of monarch and feudal landowners,
it began by giving the land to the peasants, and it made the masters of indus-
try rulers of the State. Just as then in France the masses from despised
"canaille" becanle free citizens, recognized even in poverty and economic
dependence as personalities with the possibility to rise, so now in Russia the
masses rose from unevolving barbarism into the stream of world progress,
where they may act as personalities. Political dictatorship as form of govern-
ment can no more prevent this development once it has started than the mili-
tary dictatorship of Napoleon hampered it in France. Just as then in France
from among the citizens and peasants came up the capitalists and the military
commanders, in an upward struggle of mutual competition, by good and by
bad means, by energy and talent, by jobbery and deceit-so now in Russia. All
the good brains among the workers and peasants' children rushed into the tech-
nical and farming schools, became engineers, officers, technical and military
leaders. The future was opened to them and aroused immense tensions of ener-
THE FIGHT 79
gy; by study and exertion, by cunning and intrigue they worked to assert their
places in the new ruling class-ruling, here again, over a miserable exploited
class of proletarians. And just as at that time in France a strong nationalism
sprang up proclaiming the new freedom to be brought to all Europe, a brief
dream of everlasting glory-so now Russia proudly proclaimed its mission,
world revolution to free all peoples from capitalism.
For the working class the significance of the Russian revolution must be
looked for in quite different directions. Russia showed to the European and
American workers, confined within reformist ideas and practice, first how an
industrial working cla'>S by a gigantic mass action of wild strikes is able to
undermine and destroy an obsolete State power; and second, how in such
actions the strike committees develop into workers' councils, organs of fight
and of self-management, acquiring political tasks and functions. In order to see
the influence of the Russian example upon the ideas and actions of the work-
ing class after the first world war, we have to go a step backward.
The outbreak of the war in 1914 meant an unexpected breakdown of the
labor movement allover capitalist Europe. The obedient compliance of the
workers under the military powers, the eager affiliation, in all the countries, of
the union and socialist party leaders to their governments, as accomplices in
the suppression of the workers, the absence of any significant protest, had
brought a deep disappointment to all who before put their hopes of liberation
on proletarian socialism. But gradually among the foremost of the workers
came the insight that what had broken down was chiefly the illusion of an easy
liberation by parliamentary reform. They saw the bleeding and exploited
masses growing rebellious under the sufferings of oppression and butchery,
in alliance with the Russian revolutionaries, they expected the world-rev-
olution to destroy capitalism as an outcome of the chaos of the war. They
rejected the disgraced name of socialism and called themselves communists, the
old title of working class revolutionaries.
Then as a bright star in the dark sky the Russian revolution flared up and
shone Over the earth. And everywhere the maSSes were filled with anticipation
and became restive, listening to its call for the finishing of the war, for broth-
erhood of the workers of all countries, for world revolution against capitalism.
Still clinging to their old socialist doctrines and organizations the masses,
uncertain under the flood of calumnies in the press, stood waiting, hesitating,
whether the tale might still come true. Smaller groups, especially among the
young workers, everywhere assembled in a growing communist movement.
They were the advance guard in the movements that after the end of the war
broke out in all countries, most strongly in defeated and exhausted Central
Europe. It was a new doctrine, a new system of ideas, a new tactic of fight, tlus
communism that with the then new powerful means of government propagan-
da was propagated from Russia. It referred to Marx's theory of destroying cap-
oJ
80 WORKERS' COUNCILS
italism by means of the workers' class fight. It was a call for fight against world
capital, mainly concentrated in England and America, that exploited all peoples
and all continents. It summoned not only the industrial workers of Europe and
America, but also the subjected peoples of Asia and Africa to rise in common
fight against capitalism. Like every war, this war could only be won by organ-
ization, by concentration of powers, and good discipline. In the comlllunist par-
ties, comprising the most gallant and able fighters, kernel and staff were pres-
ent already; they have to take the lead, and at their call the masses must rise
and attack the capitalist governments. In the political and economic crisis of the
world we cannot wait until by patient teaching the masses have all become
communists. Nor is this necessary; if they are convinced that only communism
is salvation, if they put their trust in the Communist Party, follow its directions,
bring it to power, then the Party as the new government will establish the new
order. So it did in Russia, and this example must be followed everywhere. But
then, in response to the heavy task and the devotion of the leaders, strict obe-
dience and discipline of the masses are imperative, of the masses towards the
Party, of the party members towards the leaders. What Marx had called the
dictatorship of the proletariat can be realized only as the dictatorship of the
Communist Party. In the Party the working class is embodied, the Party is its
representative.
In this form of communist doctrine the Russian origin was clearly visible.
In Russia, with its small industry and undeveloped working class, only a rot-
ten Asiatic despotism had to be overthrown. In Europe and America a numer-
ous and highly developed working class, trained by a powerful industry, stands
over against a powerful capitalist class disposing of all the resources the
world. Henee the doctrine of party dictatorship and blind obedience found
strong opposition here. If in Germany the revolutionary movements after the
close of the war had led to a victory of the working class and it had joined
Russia, then the influence of this class, product of the highest capitalist and
industrial development, would soon have out-weighed the Russian character_ It
would have strongly influenced the English and the American workers; and it
would have carried away Russia itself along new roads. But in Germany the
revolution failed; the masses were kept aloof by their socialist and union
lenders, by means of atrocity storics and promises of well-ordered socialist hap-
piness, whilst their advance guards were exterminated and their best spokes-
men murdered by the military forces under the protection of the socialist gov-
ernment. So the opposing groups of German communists could not carry
weight; they were expelled from the party. In their place discontented socialist
groups were induced to join the Moscow International, attracted by its new
opportunist policy of parliamentarism, with which it hoped to win power in
capitalist countries.
THE FIGHT 81
Thus world revolution from a war cry became a phrase. The Russian lead-
ers inmgined world revolution as a big scale extension and imitation of the
Russian revolution. They knew capitalism only in its Russian form, as a for-
eign exploiting power impoverishing the inhabitants, carrying all the profits out
of the country. They did not know capitalism as the great organizing power, by
its richness producing the basis of a still richer new world. As became clear
from their writings, they did not know the enormous power of the bourgeoisie,
against which all the capabilities of devoted leaders and a disciplined party are
insufficient. They did not know the sources of strength that lie hidden in the
modern working class. Hence the primitive forms of noisy propaganda and
party terrorism, not only spiritual, but also physical, against dissenting views.
It was an anachronism that Russia, newly entering the industrial era out of its
primitive barbarism, should take command over the working class of Europe
and America, that stood before the task of transforming a highly developed
industrial capitalism into a still higher form of organization.
Old Russia essentially, in its economic structure, had been an Asiatic coun-
try. All over Asia lived millions of peasants, in primitive small scale agriculture,
restricted to their village, under despotic far distant rulers, whom they had no
connection with but by the paying of taxes. In modern times these taxes
became ever more a heavy tribute to Western capitalism. The Russian revolu-
tion, with its repudiation of Czarist debts, was the liberation of the Russian
peasants from this form of exploitation by Western capital.
So it called upon all the suppressed and exploited Eastern peoples to follow
its example, to join the fight and throw off the yoke of their despots, tools of
the rapacious world capital. And far and wide, in China and Persia, in India
and Africa the call was heard. Communist parties were formed, consisting of
radical intellectuals, of peasants revolting against feudal landowners, of hard
pressed urban coolies and artisans, bringing to the hundreds of millions the
message of liberation. As in Russia it meant for all these peoples the opening
of the road to modern industrial development, sometimes, as in China, in
alliance with a modernizing national bourgeoisie. In this way the Moscow
International even more than a European became an Asiatic institution_ This
accentuated its middle class character, and worked to revive in the European
followers the old traditions of middle class revolutions, with the preponderance
of great leaders, of sounding catchwords, of conspiracies, plots, and military
revolts.
The consolidation of State capitalism in Russia itself was the determining
oasis for the character of the Communist Party. "Whilst in its foreign propa-
ganda it continued to speak of communism and world revolution, decried cap-
italism, called upon the workers to join in the fight for freedom, the workers in
Russia were a subjected and exploited class, living mostly in miserable work-
ing conditions, under a strong and oppressive dictatorial rule, without freedom
82 WORKERS' COUNCILS
of speech, of press, of association, more strongly enslaved than their brethren
under Western capitalism. Thus an inherent falsehood must pervade politics
and teachings of that party. Though a tool of the Russian government in its for-
eign politics, it succeeded by its revolutionary talk to take hold of all the rebel-
lious impulses generated in enthusiastic young people in the crisis-ridden
Western world. But only to spill them in abortive sham-actions or in oppor-
tunist politics-now against the socialist parties styled as traitors or social fas-
cists, then seeking their alliance in a so-called red front or a people's front-
causing its best adherents to leave in disgust. The doctrine it taught under the
name of Marxism was not the theory of the overthrow of highly developed cap-
italism by a highly developed working class; but its caricature, product of a
world of barbarous primitivity, where fight against religious superstitions
means spiritual, and modernized industrialism-economic progress-with athe-
ism as philosophy, party-rule the aim, obedience to dictatorship as highest com-
mandment. The Communist Party did not intend to make the workers inde-
pendent fighters capable by their force of insight themselves to build their new
world, but to make them obedient followers ready to put the party into power.
So the light darkened that had illuminated the world; the masses that had
hailed it were left in blacker night, either in discouragement turning away from
the fight, or struggling along to find new and better ways. The Russian revo-
lution first had given a mighty impulse to the fight of the working class, by its
mass direct actions and by its new council fornls of organization-this was
expressed in the widespread rise of the communist movement allover the
world. But when then the revolution settled into a new order, a new class rule,
a new form of government, State capitalism under dictatorship of a new
exploiting class, the Communist Party needs must assume an ambiguous char-
acter. Thus in the course of ensuing events it became most ruinous to the work-
ing class fight, that can only live and grow in the purity of clear thought, plain
deeds and fair dealings. By its idle talk of world revolution it hampered the
badly needed new orientation of means and aims. By fostering and teaching
under the name of discipline the vice of submissiveness, the chief vice the
workers must shake off, by suppressing each trace of independent critical
thought, it prevented the growth of any real power of the working class. By
usurping the name communism for its system of workers' exploitation and its
policy of often cruel persecution of adversaries, it made this name, till then
expression of lofty ideals, a byword, an object of aversion and hatred even
among workers. In Germany, where the political and economic crises had
brought the class antagonisms to the highest pitch, it reduced the hard class
fight to a puerile skirmish of armed youths against similar nationalist bands.
And when then the tide of nationalism ran high and proved strongest, large
parts of them, only educated to beat down their leaders' adversaries, simply
THE FIGHT 83
changed colors. Thus the Communist Party by its theory and practice largely
contributed to prepare the victory of fascism.
6. THE WORKERS' REVOLUTION
The revolution by which the working class will win mastery and freedom,
is not a single event of limited duration. It is a process of organization, of
self-education, in which the workers gradually, now in progressing rise, then in
steps and leaps, develop the force to vanquish the bourgeoisie, to destroy cap-
italism, and to build up their new system of collective production. This process
will fill up an epoch in history of unknown length, on the verge of which we
are now standing. Though the details of its course cannot be foreseen, some of
its conditions and circumstances may be a subject of discussion now.
fight cannot be compared with a regular war between similar antago-
nistic powers. The workers' forces are like an army that assembles during the
battle! They must grow by the fight itself, they cannot be ascertained before-
hand, and they can only put forward and attain partial aims. Looking back on
history we discern a series of actions that as attempts to seize power seem to be
so many failures: from Chartism, along 1848, along the Paris Commune, up to
the revolutions in Russia and Germany in 1917-1918. But there is a line of
progress; every next attempt shows a higher stage of consciousness and force.
Looking back on the history of labor we see, moreover, that in the continuous
struggle of the working class there are ups and downs, mostly connected with
changes in industrial prosperity. In the first rise of industry every crisis brought
misery and rebellious movements; the revolution of 1848 on the continent was
the sequel of a heavy business depression combined with bad crops. The indus-
trial depression about 1867 brought a revival of political action in England; the
long crisis of the 1880's, with its heavy unemployment, excited mass actions,
the rise of social-democracy on the continent and the "new unionism" in
England. But in the years of industrial prosperity in between, as 1850-70, and
1895-1914, all this spirit of rebellion disappeared. When capitalism flourishes
and in feverish activity expands its realm, when there is abundant employment,
and trade union action is able to raise the wages, the workers do not think of
any change in the social system. The capitalist class growing in wealth and
power is full of self-confidence, prevails over the workers and succeeds in imbu-
ing them with its spirit of nationalism. Formally the workers may then stick to
the old revolutionary catchwords; but in their subconscious they are content
with capitalism, their vision is narrowed; hence, though their numbers are
growing, their power declines. Till a new crisis finds them unprepared and has
to rouse them anew.
Thus the question poses itself, whether, if previously won fighting power
again and again crumbles in the contentment of a new prosperity, society and
84 WORKERS' COUNCILS
THE FIGHT 85
the working class ever will be ripe for revolution. To answer this question the
development capitalism must be more closely examined.
The alternation of depression and prosperity in industry is not a simple
swinging to and fro. Every next swing was accompanied by an expansion. After
each breakdown in a crisis capitalism was able to come up again by expanding
its realm, its markets, its mass of production and product. As long as capital-
ism is able to expand farther over the world and to increase its volume, it can
give employment to the mass of the population. As long as thus it can meet the
first demand of a system of production, to procure a living to its members, it
will be able to maintain itself, because no dire necessity compels the workers to
make an end of it. If it could go on prospering at its highest stage of extension,
revolution would be impossible as well as unnecessary; then there were only
the hope that a gradual increase of general culture could reform its deficiencies.
Capitalism, however, is not a normal, in any case not a stable system of pro-
duction. European, and afterwards American capitalism could increase pro-
duction so continuously and rapidly, because it was surrounded by a wide
non-capitalist outer world of small-scale production, source of raw materials
and markets for the products. An artificial state of things, this separation
between an active capitalist core and a dependent passive surrounding. But the
core ever expanding. The essence of capitalist economy is growth, activity,
expansion; every standstill means collapse and crisis. The reason is that profits
accumulate continuously into new capital that seeks for invesunent to bring
new profit, thus the mass of capital and the mass of products increase ever
more rapidly and markets arc sought for feverishly. So capitalism is the great
revolutionizing power, subverting old conditions everywhere and changing the
aspect of the earth. Ever new millions of people from their secluded, self-suffi
cient home production that reproduced itself during long centuries without
notable change, are drawn into the whirl of world commerce. Capitalism itself,
industrial exploitation, is introduced there, and soon from customers they
became competitors. In the 19
th
century from England it progressed over
France, Germany, America,Japan, then in the 20
th
it pervades the large Asiatic
territories. And first as competing individuals, then organized in national States
the capitalists take up the fight for markets, colonies, world power. So they are
driven on, revolutionizing ever wider domains.
But the earth is a globe, of limited extent. The discovery of it, finite
accompanied the rise of capitalism four centuries ago, the realization of its finite
size now marks the end of capitalism. The population to be subjected is limit-
ed. The hundreds of millions crowding the fertile plains of China and India
once drawn within the confines of capitalism, its chief work is accomplished.
Then no large human masses remain as objects for subjection. Surely there
remain vast wild areas to be converted into realms of human culture; but their
exploitation demands conscious collaboration of organized humanity; the
rough rapine methods of capitalism-the fertility-destroying "rape of the
earth" - are of no avail there. Then its further expansion is checked. Not as a
sudden impediment, but gradually, as a growing difficulty of selling products
and investing capitaL Then the pace of development slackens, production slows
up, unemployment waxes a sneaking disease. Then the mutual fight of the cap-
italists for world domination becomes fiercer, with new world wars impending.
So there can hardly be any doubt that an unlimited expansion of capitalism
offering lasting life possibilities for the population, is excluded by its inner eco-
nomic character. And that the time will come that the evil of depression, the
calamities of unemployment, the terrors of war grow ever stronger. Then the
working class, if not yet revolting, must rise and fight. Then the workers must
choose between inertly succumbing and actively fighting to win freedom. Then
they will have to take up their task of creating a better world out of the chaos
of decaying capitalism.
Will they fight? Human history is an endless series of fights; and
Clausewitz, the well-known German theorist on war, concluded from history
that man is in his inner nature a warlike being. But others, skeptics as well as
fiery revolutionists, seeing the timidity, the submissiveness, the indifference of
the masses, often despair of the future. So we will have to look somewhat more
thoroughly into psychological forces and effects.
The dominant and deepest impulse in man as in every living being is his
instinct of self-preservation. It compels him to defend his life with all his pow-
ers. Fear and submissiveness also are the effect of this instinct, when against
powerful masters they afford the best chances for preservation. Among the var-
ious dispositions in man those which are most adapted to secure life in the
existing circumstances will prevail and develop. In the daily life of capitalism it
is impractical, even dangerous for a worker to nurture his feelings of inde-
pendence and pride; the more he suppresses them and tacitly obeys, the less
difficulty he will encounter in fmding and keeping his job. The morals taught
the ministers of the ruling class enhance this disposition. And only few and
independent s p r t ~ defy these tendencies and are ready to encounter the
incumbent difficulties.
When, however, in times of social crisis and danger all this submissivity,
this virtuousness, is of no avail to secure life, when only fighting can help, then
I
it gives way to its contrary, to rebelliousness and courage. Then the bold set
the example and the timid discover with surprise of what deeds of heroism
are capable. Then self-reliance and high-spiritedness awake in them and grow,
because on their growth depend their chances of life and happiness. And at
once, by instinct and by experience, they know that only collaboration and
union can give strength to their masses. When then they perceive what forces
are present in themselves and in their comrades, when they feel the happiness
of this awakening of proud self-respect and devoted brotherhood, when they
---.J
86 WORKERS' COUNCILS
anticipate a future of victory, when they see rising before them the unage of the
new society they help to build, then enthusiasm and ardor grow to irresistible
power. Then the working class begins to be ripe for revolution. Then capital-
ism begins to be ripe for collapse.
Thus a new mankind is arising. Historians often wonder when they see the
rapid changes in the character of people in revolutionary times. It seems a mir-
acle; but it slinply shows how many traits lay hidden in them, suppressed
because they were of no use. Now they break forth, perhaps only temporarily;
but if their utility is lasting, they develop into dominant qualities, transforming
man, fitting him for the new circumstances and demands.
The first and paramount change is the growth of community-feeling. Its
first traces came up with capitalism itself, out of the common work and the
common fight. It is strengthened by the consciousness and the experience that,
single, the worker is powerless against capital, and that only firm solidarity can
secure tolerable life conditions. When the fight grows larger and fiercer, and
widens into a fight for dominance over labor and society, on which life and
future depend, solidarity must grow into indissoluble all-pervading unity. The
new community-feeling, extending over the entire working class, suppresses the
old selfishness of the capitalist world.
It is not entirely new. In prlineval times, in the tribe with its slinple mostly
communistic forms of labor the community-feeling was dominant. Man was
completely bound up with the tribe; separate from it he was nothing; in all his
actions the individual felt as nothing compared with the welfare and the honor
of the community. Inextricably one as he was with the tribe primitive man had
not yet developed into a personality. When afterwards men separated and
became independent small-scale producers, cOIIllIlunity feeling waned and gave
way to individualism, that makes the own person the centre of all interests and
all feelings. In the many centuries of middle class rising, of commodity pro-
duction and capitalism, the individual personality-feeling awoke and ever more
strongly grew into a new character. It is an acquisition that can no more be lost.
To be sure, also in this time man was a social being; society dominated, and in
critical moments, of revolution and war, the community-feeling temporarily
imposed itself as an unwanted moral duty. But in ordinary life it lay suppressed
under the proud fancy of personal independence.
What is now developing in the working class is not a reverse change, as lit-
tle as life conditions are a return to bygone forms. It is the coalescence of indi-
vidualism and community-feeling into a higher unity. It is the conscious sub-
ordination of all personal forces in the service of the community. In their man-
agement of the mighty productive forces the workers as their mightier masters
will develop their personality to a yet higher stage. The consciousness of its
intimate connection with society unites personality-feeling with the all-power-
THE FIGHT 87
ful social feeling into a new life-apprehension based on the realization of socie-
as the SOurce of man's entire being.
Community-feeling from the first is the main force in the progress of revo-
lution. This progress is the growth of the solidarity, of the mutual connection,
of the unity of the workers. Their organization, their new growing power, is a
new character acquired through fight, is a change in their inner being, is a new
morality. What military authors say about ordinary war, namely, that moral
forces therein playa dominant role, is even more true in the war of the classes.
Higher issues are at stake here. Wars always were contests of similar compet-
ing powers, and the deepest structure of society remained the same, whether
one won or the other. Contests of classes are fights for new principles, and the
victory of the rising class transfers the society to a higher stage of development.
Hence, compared with real war, the moral forces are of a superior kind: vol-
untary devoted collaboration instead of blind obedience, faith to ideals instead
of fidelity to commanders, love for the class companions, for humanity, instead
of patriotism. Their essential practice is not armed violence, not killing, but
standing steadfast, enduring, persevering, persuading, organizing; their aim is
not to smash the skulls but to open the brains. Surely, armed action will also
playa role in the fight of the classes; the armed violence of the masters cannot
be overcome in Toistoian fashion by patient suffering. It must be beaten down
by force; but, by force animated by a deep moral conviction.
There have been wars that showed something of this character. Such wars
as were a kind of revolution or formed part of revolutions, in the fight for free-
dom of the middle class. Where rising burgherdom fought for dominance
against the home and the foreign feudal powers of monarchy and landowner-
ship-as in Greece in antiquity, in Italy and Banders in the Middle Ages, in
Holland, England, France in later centuries-idealism and enthusiasm, arising
out of deep feelings of the class-necessities, called forth great deeds of heroism
and self-sacrifice. These episodes, such as in modern tlines we meet with in the
French revolution, or in Italy's liberation by Garibaldi's followers, count
among the most beautiful pages in human history. Historians have glorified
and poets have sung them as epochs of greatness, gone for ever. Because the
sequel of the liberation, the practice of the new society, the rule of capital, the
contrast of linpudent luxury and miserable poverty, the avarice and greed of
the business men, the job-hunting of officials, all this pageant of low selfishness
fell as a chilling disappoultment upon the next generation. In middle-class rev-
olutions egotism and ambition in strong personalities play an important role; as
a rule the idealists are sacrificed and the base characters come to wealth and
power. In the bourgeoisie everybody must try to raise himself by treading
down the others. The virtues of community-feeling were a temporary necessi-
tyonly, to gain dominance for their class; once this aim attained, they give way
to the pitiless competitive strife of all against alL
88 WORKERS' COUNCILS
Here we have the fundamental difference between the former middle-class
revolutions and the now approaching workers' revolution. For the workers the
strong community-feeling arising out of their fight for power and freedom is at
the same time the basis of their new society. The virtues of solidarity and devo-
tion, the impulse to common action in firm unity, generated in the social strug-
gle, are the foundations of the new economic system of common labor, and will
be perpetuated and intensified by its practice. The fight shapes the new
mankind needed for the new labor system. The strong individnalism in man
now finds a better way of asserting itself than in the craving for personal power
over others. In applying its fnll force to the liberation of the class it will nnfold
itself morc fully and more nobly than in pursuing pcrsonal aims.
Community-feeling and organization do not suffice to defeat capitalism. In
keeping the working class in submission, the spiritual dominance of the bour-
geoisie has the same importance as has its physical power. Ignorance is an
impediment to freedom. Old thoughts and traditions press heavily upon the
brains, even when tonched already by new ideas. Then the aims are seen at
their narrowest, well-sonnding catchwords are accepted without criticism, illn-
sions about easy successes, half-hearted measures and false promises lead
astray. Thus the importance of intellectual power for the workers is shown.
Knowledge and insight are an essential factor in the rise of the working class.
The workers' revolution is not the outcome rough physical power; it is a
victory of the mind. It will be the product of the mass power of the workers,
certainly; but this power is spiritual power in the first place. The workers will
not win because they have strong fists; fists are easily directed by cunning
brains, even against their own cause. Neither will they win because they arc the
majority; ignorant and unorganized majorities regularly were kept down, pow-
erless, by well-instructed organized minorities. Majority now will win only
because strong moral and intellectual forces cause it to rise above the power of
their masters. Revolutions in history could succeed becanse new spiritual
forces had been awakened in the masses.
Brute stupid physical force can do nothing but destroy. Revolutions, how-
ever, are the constructive epochs in the evolution of mankind. And more than
any former the revolution that is to render the workers master of the world
demands the highest moral and intellectual qualities.
Can the workers respond to these demands? How can they acquire the
knowledge needed? Not from the schools, where the children are imbibed with
all the false ideas about society which the ruling class wishes them to have. Not
from the papers, owned and edited by the capitalists, or by groups striving for
leadership. Not from the pulpit that always preaches servility and where John
Balls are extremely rare.
Not from the radio, where, unlike the public discussions in former times,
for the citizens a powerful means of training their minds on public affairs-
THE FIGHT 89
one-sided allocations tend to stultify the passive listeners, and by their
never-easing obtrusive noise allow of no reposed thinking. Not from the film
that-unlike the theatre, in early days the rising burgher class a means of
instruction and sometimes even of fight-appeals only to visual impression,
never to thinking or intelligence. They all are powerful instruments of the rul-
ing class to keep the working class in spiritual bondage. With instinctive cun-
ning and conscious deliberation they are all uscd for the purpose. And the
working masses unsuspectingly submit to their influence. They let themselves
be fooled by artful words and outside appearances. Even those who know of
class and fight leave the affairs to leaders and statesmen, and applaud them
when they speak dear old words of tradition. The masses spend their free time
in pursuing puerile pleasures unaware of the great social problems on which
their and their children's existence depends. It seems an insolvable problem,
how a workers' revolution is ever to come and to succeed, when by the saga-
ciousness of the rulers and the indifference of the ruled its spiritual conditions
remain lacking.
But the forces of capitalism are working in the depths of society, stirring old
conditions and pushing people forward even when unwilling. Their inciting
effects are suppressed as long as possible, to save the old possibilities of going
on living; stored in the subconscious they only intensify the inner strains. Till
at last, in crisis, at the highest pitch of necessity they snap and give way in
action, in revolt. The action is not the result of deliberate intention; it comes as
a spontaneous deed, irresistingly. In such spontaneous action man reveals to
himself of what he is capable, a surprise to himself. And because the action is
always collective action, it reveals to each that the forces dimly felt in himself,
are present in all. Confidence and courage are raised by the discovery of the
strong class forces of common will, and they stir and carry away ever wider
masses.
Actions break out spontaneonsly, enforced by capitalism upon the urr....villing
workers. They are not so much the result as the starting point of their spiritu-
al development. Once the fight is taken up the workers must go on in attack
and defense; they must exert all their forces to the utmost. Now falls away the
indifference that was only a form of resistance to demands they felt themselves
unequal to respond to. Now a time of intense mental exertion sets in. Standing
ovcr against the mighty forces of capitalism they see that only by the utmost
efforts, by developing all their powers can they hope to win. What in every
fight appears in its first traces now broadly unfolds; all the forces hidden in the
masses are roused and set in motion. This is the creative work of revolution.
Now the necessity of firm unity is hammered into their consciousness, now the
necessity of knowledge is felt at every moment. Every kind of ignorance, every
illusion about the character and force of the foe, every weakness in resisting his
tricks, every incapacity of refuting his arguments and calumnies, is revenged in
90 WORKERS' COUNCILS
failure and defeat. Active desire, by strong impulses from within, now incites
the workers to use their brains. The new hopes, the new visions of the future
inspire the mind, making it a living active power, that shuns no pains to seek
for truth, to acquire knowledge.
Where will the workers find the knowledge they need'? The sources are
abundant; an extensive scientific literature of books and pamphlets, explaining
the basic facts and theories of society and labor already exists and more will
follow, But they exhibit the greatest diversity of opinion as to what is to be
done; and the workers themselves have to choose and to distinguish what is
true and right. They have to use their own brains in hard thinking and intent
discussion. For they face new problems, ever again, to which the old books can
give no solution. These can supply only general knowledge about society and
capital, they present principles and theories, comprehending former experi-
ence. Th.e application in ever new situations is our own task.
The insight needed can not be obtained as instruction of an ignorant mass
by learned teachers, possessors of science, as the pouring of knowledge into
passive pupils. It can only be acquired by self-education, by the strenuous
self-activity that strains the brain in fell desire to understand the world. It
would be very easy for the working class if it had only to accept established
truth from those who know it. But the truth they need does not exist anywhere
in the world outside them; they must build it up within themselves. Also what
is given here does not pretend to be established fmal truth to be leamed by
heart. It is a system of ideas won by attentive experience of society and the
workers' movement, formulated to induce others to think over and to discuss
the problems of work and its organization. There are hundreds of thinkers to
open new viewpoints, there are thousands of intelligent workers who, once
they give their attention to them, are able, from their intimate knowledge, to
conceive better and in more detail the organization of their fight and the organ-
ization of their work. What is said here may be the spark that kindles the fire
in their minds.
There are groups and parties pretending to be in the exclusive possession
of truth, who try to win the workers by their propaganda under the exclusion
of all other opinions. By moral and, where they have the power, also by phys-
ical constraint, they try to impose their views upon the masses. It must be clear
that one-sided teaching of one system of doctrines can only serve, and indeed
should serve, to breed obedient followers, hence to uphold old or prepare new
domination. Self-liberation of the working masses implies self-thinking,
self-knowing, recognizing truth and error by their own mental exertion.
Exerting the brains is much more difficult and fatiguing than exerting the mus-
cles; but it must be done, because the brains govem the muscles; if not their
own, then foreign brains.
THE FIGHT 91
So unlimited freedom of discussion, of expressing opinions is the breathing
air of the workers' fight. It is more than a century ago that against a despotic
government, Shelley, England's greatest poet of the 19
th
century, "the friend of
the friendless poor," vindicated for everybody the right of free expression of his
opinion. "A man has the right to unrestricted liberty of discussion." "A man has
not only the right to express his thoughts, but it is his duty to do so" ... "nor
can any acts of legislature destroy that right." Shelley proceeded from philoso-
phy proclaiming the natural rights of man. For us it is owing to its necessity for
the liberation of the working class that freedom of speech and press is pro-
claimed. To restrict the freedom of discussion is to prevent the workers from
acquiring the knowledge they need. Every old despotism, every modern dicta-
torship began by persecuting or forbidding freedom of press; every restriction
of this freedom is the first step to bring the workers under the domination of
same kind of rulers. Must not, then, the masses be protected against the false-
hoods, the misrepresentations, the beguiling propaganda of their enemies? As
little as in education careful withholding of evil influences can develop the fac-
ulty to resist and vanquish them, as little can the working class be educated to
freedom by spiritual guardianship. Where the enemies present themselves in
the guise of friends, and in the diversity of opinions every party is inclined to
consider the others as a danger for the class, who shall decide? The workers,
certainly; they must fight their way in this realm also. But the workers of to-day
rnight in honest conviction condemn as obnoxious opinions that afterwards
prove to be the basis of new progress. Only by standing open to all ideas that
the rise of a new world generates in the minds of man, by testing and selecting,
by judging and applying them with its own mental capacities, can the working
class gain the spiritual superiority needed to suppress the power of capitalism
and erect the new society.
Every revolution in history was an epoch of the most fervent spiritual activ-
ity, By hundreds and thousands the political pamphlets and papers appeared as
the agents of intense self-education of the masses. In the coming proletarian
revolution it will not be otherwise. It is an illusion that, once awakened from
submissiveness the masses will be directed by one common dear insight and go
their way without hesitation in unanimity of opinion. History shows that in
such awakening an abundance of new thoughts in greatest diversity sprouts in
man, expressions all of the new world, as a roaming search of mankind in the
newly opened land of possibilities, as a blooming richness of spiritual life. Only
in the mutual struggle of all these ideas will crystallize the guiding principles
that are essential for the new tasks. The first great successes, result of sponta-
neous united action, by destroying previous shackles, do no more than fling
open the prison gates; the workers, by their own exertion, must then find the
new orientation towards further progress.
92 WORKERS' COUNCILS
This means that those great times will be full of the noise of party strife.
Those who have the same ideas form groups to discuss them for their own and
to propagate them for their comrades' enlightenment. Such groups of common
opinion may be called parties, though their character will be entirely different
from the political parties of the previous world. Under parliamentarism these
parties were the organs of different and opposite class interests. In the working
class movement they were organizations taking the lead of the class, acting as
its spokesmen and representatives and aspiring at guidance and dominance.
Now their function will be spiritual fight only. The working class for its practi-
cal action has no use for them; it has created its new organs for action, the
councils. In the shop organization, the council organization, it is the entirety of
the workers itself that acts, that has to decide what must be done. In the shop
assemblies and in the councils the different and opposite opinions are exposed
and defended, and out of the contest the decision and the unanimous action
has to proceed. Unity of purpose can only be reached by spiritual contest
between the dissenting views. The important function of the parties, then, is to
organize opinion, by their mutual discussion to bring the new growing ideas
into concise forms, to clarify them, to exhibit the arguments in a comprehensi-
form, and by their propaganda to bring them to the notice of all. Only in
this way the workers in their assemblies and councils can judge their truth,
their merits, their practicability in each situation, and take the decision in clear
understanding. Thus the spiritual forces of new ideas, sprouting wildly in all
the heads, are organized and shaped so as to be usable instruments of the class.
This is the great task of party strife in the workers' fight for freedom, far nobler
than the endeavor of the old parties to win dominance for themselves.
The transition of supremacy from one class to another, which as in all for-
mer revolutions is the essence of the workers' revolution, does not depend on
the haphazard chances of accidental events. Though its details, its ups and
downs depend on the chance of various conditions and happenings that we
cannot foresee, viewed at large there is a definite progressive course, which
may be an object of consideration in advance. It is the increase of social power
of the rising class, the loss of social power of the declining class. The rapid vis-
ible changes in power form the essential character of social revolutions. So we
have to consider somewhat more closely the elements, the factors constituting
the power of each of the contending classes.
The power of the capitalist class in the first place consists in the possession
of capital. It is master of all the factories, the machines, the mines, master of
the entire productive apparatus of society; so mankind depends on that class to
work and to live. With its money-power it call buy not only servants for per-
sonal attendance; when threatened it can buy in unlimited number sturdy
young men to defend its domination, it can organize them into well-armed
fighting groups and give them a social standing. It can buy, by assuring them;
-,
-.J
THE FIGHT 93
honorable places and good salaries, artists, writers and intellectuals, not only
to amuse and to serve the masters, but also to praise them and glorify their
rule, and by cunning and learning to defend their domination against criticism.
Yet the spiritual power of the capitalist class has deeper roots than the intel-
lect it can buy. The middle class, out of which the capitalists rose as its upper
layer, always was an enlightened class, self-reliant through its broad world con-
ception, basing itself, its work, its production system, upon culture and knowl-
edge. Its principles of personal ownership and responsibility, of self-help
individual energy pervade the entire society. These ideas the workers have
brought with them, from their origin out of impoverished middle-class layers;
and all the spiritual and physical means available are set to work to preserve
and intensify the middle-class ideas in the masses. Thus the domination of the
capitalist class is firmly rooted in the thinking and feeling of the dominated
majority'
The strongest power factor of the capitalist class, however, is its political
organization, State-power. Only by fIrm organization can a minority rule over
a majority. The unity and continuity of plan and will in the central govern-
ment, the discipline of the bureaucracy of officials pervading society as the
nervous system pervades the body, and animated and directed by one common
spirit, the disposal, moreover, when necessary, over an armed force, assure its
unquestioned dominance over the population. Just as the strength of the
fortress consolidates the physical forces of the garrison into an indomitable
power over the country, so State power consolidates the physical and spiritual
forces of the ruling class into unassailable strength. The respect paid to the
authorities by the citizens, by the feeling of necessity, by custom and education,
regularly assure the smooth running of the apparatus. And should discontent
make people rebellious, what can they do, unarmed and unorganized, against
the firmly organized and disciplined armed forces of the Government? With
the development of capitalism, when power from a numerous middle class
ever more concentrated in a smaller number of big capitalists, the State also
concentrated its power and through its increasing functions took ever more
hold of society.
What has the working class to oppose to these formidable factors of power?
Ever more the working class constitutes the majority, in the most advanced
countries the large majority of the population, concentrated here in large and
giant industrial enterprises. Not legally but actually it has the machines, the
productive apparatus of society in its hands. The capitalists are owners and
masters, surely; but they can do no more than command. If the working class
disregards their commands they cannot run the machines. The workers can.
The workers are the direct actual masters of the machines; however deter-
mined, by obedience or by self-will, they can run them and stop them. Theirs
is the most important economic function; their labor bears society.
94 WORKERS' COUNCILS
This economical power is a sleeping power as long as the workers are cap-
tivated in middle-class thinking. It grows into actual power by class conscious-
ness. By the practice oflife and labor they discover that they are a special class,
exploited by capital, that they have to fight to free themselves from exploita-
tion. Their fight compels them to understand the structure of the economic sys-
tem, to acquire knowledge of society. Notwithstanding all propaganda to the
contrary this new knowledge dispels the inherited middle-class ideas in their
heads, because it is based on the truth of daily experienced reality, whereas the
old ideas express the past realities of a bygone world.
Economic and spiritual power are made an active power through organiza-
tion. It binds all the different wills to unity of purpose and combines the single
forces into a mighty unity of action. Its outer forms may differ and change as
to circumstances, its essence is its new moral character, the solidarity, the
strong community-feeling, the devotion and spirit of sacrifice, the self-inlposed
discipline. Organization is the life principle of the working class, the condition
of liberation. A minority ruling by its strong organization can be vanquished
only, and certainly will be vanquished, by organization of the majority.
Thus the elements constituting the power of the contending classes stand
over against one another. Those of the bourgeoisie stand great and mighty, as
existing and dominating forces, whereas those of the working class must devel-
op, from small beginnings, as new life growing up. Number and economic
importance grow automatically by capitalism; but the other factors, insight and
organization, depend on the efforts of the workers themselves. Because they
are the conditions of efficient fight they arc the results of fight; every setback
strains nerves and brains to repair it, every success swells the hearts into new
zealous confidence. The awakening of class-consciousness, the growing knowl-
edge of society and its development, means the liberation from spiritual
bondage, the awakening from dulness to spiritual force, the ascension of the
masses to true humanity. Their uniting for a common fight, fundamentally,
means already social liberation; the workers, bound into the servitude of capi-
tal resume their liberty of action. It is the awakening from submissiveness to
independence, collectively, in organized union challenging the masters.
Progress of the working class means progress in these factors of power. What
can be won in improvement of working and living conditions depends on the
power the workers have acquired; when, either by insufficiency of their actions,
by lack of insight or effort, or by inevitable social changes their power, com-
pared with the capitalist power, declines, it will be felt in their working condi-
tions. Here is the criterion for every form of action, for tactics and methods of
fight, for forms of organization: Do they enhance the power of the workers?
For the present, but, still more essential, for the future, for the supreme goal of
annihilating capitalism? In the past trade unionism has given shape to the feel-
ings of solidarity and unity, and strengthened their fighting power by efficient
THE FIGHT 95
organization. When, however, in later times it had to suppress the fighting spir-
it, and it put up the demand of discipline towards leaders against the impulse
of class solidarity the growth of power was impeded. Socialist party work in the
past highly contributed to raise the insight and the political interest of the
masses; when, however, it tried to restrict their activity within the confines of
parliamentarism and the illusions of political democracy it became a source of
weakness.
Out of these temporary weaknesses the working class has to lift its power
in the actions of the coming times. Though we must expect an epoch of crisis
and fight this may be alternated with more quiet times of relapse or consolida-
tion. The traditions and illusions may act temporarily as weakening influences.
But then also making them times of preparation, the new ideas of self-rule and
council organization by steady propaganda may take a broader hold on the
workers. Then, just as now, there is a task for every worker once he is seized
by the vision of freedom for his class, to propagate these thoughts among his
comrades, to rouse them from indifference, to open their eyes. Such propagan-
da is essential for the future. Practical realization of an idea is not possible as
as it has not penetrated the minds of the masses at large.
Fight, however, is always the fresh source of power in a rising class. We can-
not foresee now what forms this fight of the workers for their freedom will
assume. At times and places it may take the harsh form of civil war, so com-
mon in former revolutions when it had to give the decisions. There heavy odds
may seem to be against the workers, since Government and the capitalists,
money and authority, can raise armed forces in unlimited numbers. Indeed the
strength of the working class is not situated here, in the bloody contest of mas-
sacring and killing. Their real strength rests in the domain of labor, in their pro-
ductive work, and in their superiority in mind and character. Nevertheless,
even in armed contest capitalist superiority is not unquestioned. The produc-
tion of arms is in the hands of the workers; the armed bands depend all their
labor. If restricted in number, such ban.ds, when the entire working class, unit-
ed and unafraid, stands against them, will be powerless, overwhelmed by sheer
numbers. And if numerous, these bands consist of recruited workers too, acces-
sible to the call of class solidarity.
The working class has to find out and to develop the forms of fight adapt-
ed to its needs. Fight means that it goes its own way according to its free choice,
directed by its class interests, independent of, hence opposed to the former mas-
ters. In fight its creative faculties assert themselves in finding ways and means.
Just as in the past it devised and practiced spontaneously its forms of action:
the strike, the ballot, the street demonstration, the mass meeting, the leaflet
propaganda, the political strike, so it will do in future. Whatever the forms may
be, character, purpose and effect will be the same for all: to raise the own ele-
ments of power, to weaken and dissolve the power of the foe. So far as experi-
96 WORKERS' COUNCILS
ence goes mass political strikes have the strongest effects; and in future they
may be still more powerful. In these strikes, born out of acute crises and strong
strains, the impulses are too fierce, the issues go too deep to be directed by
unions or parties, committees or boards of officials. They bear the character of
direct actions of the masses. The workers do not go into strike individually, but
shopwise, as personnel collectively deciding their action. Immediately strike
committees are installed, where delegates of all the enterprises meet, assuming
already the character of workers' councils. They have to bring unity in action,
unity also, as much as possible, in ideas and methods, by continual interaction
between the fighting inlpulses of the shop-assemblies and the discussions in the
council meetings. Thus the workers create their own organs opposing the
organs of the ruling class.
Such a political strike is a kind of rebellion, though in legal form, against
the Government, by paralyzing production and traffic trying to exert such a
pressure upon the government that it yields to the demands of the workers.
Government, from its side, by means of political measures, by prohibiting meet-
ings, by suspending the freedom of press, by calling up armed forces, hence by
transforming its legal authority into arbitrary though actual power, tries to
break the determination of the strikers. It is assisted by the ruling class itself,
that by its press monopoly dictates public opinion and carries on a strong prop-
aganda of calumny to isolate and discourage the strikers. It supplies volunteers
not only for somehow maintaining traffic and services, but also for armed
bands to terrorize the workers and to try to convert the strike into a form of
civil war, more congenial to the bourgeoisie. Because a strike cannot last indef-
initely, one of the parties, with the lesser inner solidity, must give way.
Mass actions and universal strikes are the struggle of two classes, of two
organizations, each by its own solidity trying to curb and finally to break the
other. This cannot be decided in one action; it demands a series of struggles
that constitute an epoch of social revolution. For each of the contending class-
es disposes of deeper sources of power that allow it to restore itself after defeat.
Though the workers at a time may be defeated and discouraged, their organi-
zations destroyed, their rights abolished, yet the stirring forces of capitalism,
their own inner forces, and the indestructible will to live, once more puts them
on their feet. Neither can capitalism be destroyed at one stroke; when its
fortress, State Power, is shattered, demolished, the class itself still disposes of a
deal of its physical and spiritual power. History has instances how gov-
ennnents entirely disabled and prostrate by war and revolution, were regener-
ated by the economic power, the money, the intellectual capacity, the patient
skill, the class-consciousness-in the form of ardent national feeling-of the
bourgeoisie. But finally the class that forms the majority of the people, that sup-
ports society by its labor, that has the direct disposal over the productive appa-
ratus, must win. In such a way that the firm organization of the majority class
THE FIGHT 97
dissolves and crumbles State power, the strongest organization of the capitalist
class.
Where the action of the workers is so powerful that the very organs of
Goverrunent are paralyzed the councils have to fulfill political functions. Now
the workers have to provide for public order and security, they have to take
care that social life can proceed, and in this the councils are their organs. What
is decided in the councils the workers perform. So the councils grow into
organs of social revolution; and with the progress of revolution their tasks
become ever more all-embracing. At the same time that the classes are strug-
gling for supremacy, each by the solidity of its organization trying to break that
of the other class, society must go on to live. Though in the tension of critical
moments it can live on the stores of provisions, production cannot stop for a
long time. This is why the workers, if their iImer forces of organization fall
short, are compelled by hunger to return under the old yoke. This is why, if
strong enough, if they have defied, repelled, shattered State Power, if they have
repulsed its violence, if they are master in the shops, they immediately must
take care of the production. Mastery in the shops means at the same time
organization of production. The organization for fight, the councils, is at the
same time organization for reconstruction.
Of the Jews in olden times building the walls of Jerusalem it is said that they
fought sword in one, trowel in the other hand. Here, differently, sword and
trowel are one. Establishing the organization of production is the strongest,
nay, the only lasting weapon to destroy capitalism. Wherever the workers have
fought their way into the shops and taken possession of the machines, they
inlIDediately start organizing the work. Where capitalist command has disap-
peared from the shop, disregarded and powerless, the workers build up pro-
duction on the new basis. In their practical action they establish new right and
new Law. They cannot wait till everywhere the fight is over; the new order has
to grow from below, from the shops, work and fight at the same time.
Then at the same time the organs of capitalism and Government decline
into the role of unessential foreign and superfluous things. They may still be
powerful to harm, but they have lost the authority of useful and necessary insti-
tutions. Now the roles, more and more manifestly to everybody, are reverted.
Now the working class, with its organs, the councils, is the power of order; life
and prosperity of the entire people rests on its labor, its organization. The
measures and regulations decided in the councils, executed and followed by the
working masses, are acknowledged and respected as legitimate authority. On
the other hand the old governmental bodies dwindle to outside forces that
merely try to prevent the stabilization of the new order. The armed bands of
the bourgeoisie, even when still powerful, ever more the character of unlaw-
ful disturbers, of obnoxious destroyers in the rising world of labor. As agents
of disorder they will be subdued and dissolved.
98 WORKERS' COUNCILS
'TIlis is, in so far as we now can foresee, the way by which State Power will
disappear, together with the disappearance of capitalism itself. In past times dif
ferent ideas about future social revolution prevailed.
First the working class had to conquer the political power, by the ballot win-
ning a majority in Parliament, helped eventually by armed contests or political
strikes. Then the new Government consisting of the spokesmen, leaders, and
politicians, by its acts, by new Law, had to expropriate the capitalist class and
to organize production. So the workers themselves had only to do half the
work, the less essential part; the real work, the reconstruction of society, the
organizing of labor, had to be done by the socialist politicians and officials.
This conception reflects the weakness of the working class at that time; poor
and miserable, without economic power, it had to be led into the promised land
of abundance by others, by able leaders, by a benignant Government. And
then, of course, to remain subjects; for freedom cannot be given, it can only be
conquered. This easy illusion has been dispelled by the growth of capitalist
power. The workers now have to realize that only by raising their own power
to the highest height can they hope to win liberty; that political dominance,
mastery over society must be based upon economic power, mastery over labor.
The conquest of political power by the workers, the abolition of capitalism,
the establishment of new Law, the appropriation of the enterprises, the recon-
struction of society, the building of a new system of production are not differ-
ent consecutive occurrences. They are contemporary, concurrent in a process
of social events and transformations. Or, more precisely, they are identical.
They are the different sides, indicated with different names, of one great social
revolution: the organization of labor by working humanity.
III.TheFoe
1. THEENGLISHBOURGEOISIE
Knowledge of the foe, knowledge of his resources, of his forces and his
weaknesses, is the first demand in every fight. The first requisite to protect us,
when seeing his superior powers, against discouragement; after partial success,
against illusions. Hence it is necessary to consider how, with the evolution of
society, the present ruling class has developed.
This development was different in different countries. The workers of each
country are exploited and dominated by their own bourgeoisie [the property
owning and capitalist class 1; it is the foe they have to deal with. So it might
seem sufficient to study its character only. But at present we see that the capi-
talist classes of all countries and all continents grow together into one world
class, albeit in the form of two fiercely fighting coalitions. So the workers can-
not restrict their attention to their direct masters. Already in the past, when tak-
ing up their fight, they themselves immediately felt an international brother-
hood. Now the capitalist classes of the entire world are their opponents, and so
they must know and understand them alL
Old capitalism is best seen in England. There for the first time it carne to
power; from there it spread over the world. There it developed most of the
institutions and the principles imitated and followed afterwards in other coun-
tries. Yet it shows a special character different from the others.
The English revolution, of the time of Pym and Cromwell, was not a con-
quest of power by the capitalist class, won from a previously ruling feudal class
oflandowners.Just as earlier in Holland, it was the repulse of a kind to estab-
lish absolute monarchical power. In other countries, by means of their standing
armies and of the officials and judges appointed by them and obeying them, the
kings subdued the independent nobility as well as the privileged town govern-
ments. Making use of the money power of rising capitalism, they could estab-
lish strong central governments and turn the tumultuous nobles into obedient
courtiers and military officers, securing them their feudal rights and properties,
and at the same time protecting commerce and industry, the source of the taxes
from the business people. Their power was based on a kind of equilibrium
fig
v
100 WORKERS' COUNCILS
between the rising power of capital and the declining power ofland ownership.
In England, however, in consequence of the local self-rule of the counties, of
the traditional coalition of landowners and town-citizens in the House of
Commons, and of the lack of a standing army, the Stuart kings failed in their
striving for absolute monarchy. Though it broke out in defense of the medieval
rights and privileges, the revolutionary fight, convulsing the depth of society,
to a great extent modernized institutions. It made Parliament, especially the
House of Conunons, the ruling power of the land.
The middle class, thus becoming the ruling class in England, consisted
ehiefly of the numerous class of squires, independent landowners, the gentry,
forming the lower nobility; they were associated with the influential merchants
of London, and with the wealthy citizens ruling in the smaller towns. By means
of local self-government, embodied in their office ofJustices of the Peace, they
dominated the countryside. The House of Corrunons was their organ,
means of which they detennined the home and foreign policy of the country.
Government itself they left mostly to the nobility and the kings, who were now
their instruments and steadily controlled by Parliament. Because England as an
island was protected by her fleet, there was hardly any army; the ruling class
having learned to hate and fear it as an instrument of governmental despotism,
jealously kept it insignificant. Neither was there a poliee to restrain personal lib-
erty.
Thus the govermnent had no means to keep down by force new rising pow-
ers. In other countries this keeping down of course could only be temporary,
till at last a violent revolution broke out and swept away the entire old system
of domination. In England, on the contrary, when after long resistance the rul-
ing class in public opinion and social action felt the irresistible force of a rising
class, it had no choice but to yield. Thus by necessity originated the policy
grown into an English tradition, of resisting rising forces as long as it is possi-
ble, in the end to yield before the breaking point is reached. The goveruing
class then retained its power by sharing it with the new class, accepting its lead-
ing figures into its midst, often by knighting them. The old forms remained,
even though the contents changed. No revolution, as a cleansing thunderstorm,
did away with the old traditions and the old wigs, with tlle meaningless cere-
monials and the antiquated forms of thinking. Respectfully the English people
look up to the aristocratic families ruling with such sensible policy.
Conservatism permeates all forms of social life. Not the contents; by the unlim-
ited personal liberty labor and life develop freely according to praetical needs.
The industrial revolution broke into the careless life of old England of the
18th century, an irresistible new development and a destructive catastrophe.
Factories were built, provided with the newly invented spilming machines, driv-
en by water, and then by steam power, soon to be followed by weaving, and
then by machine factories. The new class of factory owners arose and grew rich
THE FOE 101
by the exploitation of the new class of miserable workers, formed out of the
impoverished artisans beaten down by the superiority of the new machines.
Under the indifference of the old authorities that were entirely inactive and
incapable of coping with the new situation, industrial capitalism grew up in a
chaos of free competition, of the most horrible working eonditions, of utter
neglect of the simplest exigencies of health and careless waste of the nation's
vigor.
A fierce struggle ensued, in a complicated triangular way. Repeatedly the
workers broke out into revolts against the miserable working conditions com-
bined with cruel oppression from the old political institutions, against the
employers, as well as against the goveruing land owner class. And at the sam.e
time the new industrial bourgeoisie growing in wealth and social influence, vin-
dicating its share in government, organized itself ever more strongly. Under
this double pressure the landowners were forced to yield; in the Reform Act of
1832 modernizing the constituencies, the capitalist class of factory owners got
their representation in Parliament. And in 1846, by a special repeal of the corn
laws that raised the price of wheat by import duties, they succeeded in throw-
ing off the heavy tribute to the landowners. Thus the way was free for pro-
ducing and accumulating capital in unlimited quantity. The working class,
however, stormed in vain against the ramparts of the State stronghold, now for-
tified by an additional garrison of defenders. The rulers had, it is true, no
forees to suppress the working class movement by violence. Capitalist society
resisted by its inner toughness, by its deep-seated solidity, instinctively felt by
the entire middle class to be a rising form of production destined to eonquer
the world. It yielded by steps, by granting such reforms as were unavoidable;
so in ever new fights the workers obtained the right of association, the ten hour
day, and fmally, gradually, the franchise.
The English bourgeoisie was undisputed master; its Parliament was the
sovereign power of the realm. The first and strongest industrial and capitalist
class of the world, it dominated world commerce and world markets. During
the entire 19
th
century it was master on the seven seas and powerful in all con-
tinents. Riches flowing from all sides, from industry, from commerce, from the
colonies, accumulated in its hands. The other classes shared in its enormous
profits. In the first place the landowner class, the ruling nobility, from olden
times was strongly affiliated to business and commercial life. It was not feudal
at all, not of mediaeval descent-the feudal class had exterminated itself in civil
wars-but of middle class origin, owing its elevation to wealth, services, to mere
favor, the more jealous therefore of the outer appearances and ceremonies of
prerogative. Now in the new system of unlimited profit-production it coalesced
with the industrial capitalists into one powerful ruling and exploiting class.
Where an aristocracy finds its place in capitalist society, its speeial pursuit,
besides government offices, is the profession of arms. So the standing of the
102 WORKERS' COUNCILS
landowner class is shown by the power of militarism. In Prussian Germany the
supremacy of the landed nobility was expressed in the ascendancy of military
above civil forms. There, even under modern capitalism, civilians were
despised as second rate, and the highest ambition for a wealthy business man
or a deserving scientist was to don the uniform of reserve officer, "the king's
coat." In England, with its small and chiefly colonial army, the same process
took place in the navy. For continental wars there was an army recruited from
the lowest classes, called "scum of the earth" by their honored chief, the Duke
of Wellington; fighting in the stiff linear tactics of hirelings at a time when in
France and Germany enthusiastic popular armies practiced the free skirmish-
ing method of fighting; only as late as 1873 flogging of the soldiers was abol-
ished. Military office was not esteemed, and the spirit of militarism was entire-
ly absent. Civilian life was supreme above military forms; when the profes-
sional daily duties were absolved, the English officer put on civilian dress, to
be simply a gentleman-the word expressing a civilian code of honor not
known in other countries. Thus the absence of continental militarism is an indi-
cation of how completely the landowning aristocracy in England is absorbed
into the entirety of the capitalist class.
The working class also got its part. Not all of course; only its most influ-
ential groups, "skilled labor," that by its trade unions was able to display fight-
ing power. From its profits secured by world monopoly the capitalist class could
grant them a share sufficient to turn them into contented adherents of the exist-
ing order. They separated from the miserable unskilled masses that filled the
slums. Every thought that another system of production might be possible or
necessary, disappeared. So capitalism was entirely secure; the solidity of a sys-
tem of exploitation depends on the lack of capacity of the exploited class to dis-
cern its exploitation. Among the workers the middle class doctrine prevailed
that everybody is master of his own fate. They took over all middle class ideas
and traditions, even the reverence paid to the upper classes and their cere-
momes.
During the long years of exploitation and gradual development capital in
private hands could increase along with the need for larger installations,
brought about by the progress of technics. There was no need for organization
of capital; banking operations found sufficient scope in interchanging and lend-
ing money for facilitating intercourse. There was also little organization of the
industrial enterprises into large combines; the employers, themselves disposing
of sufficient capital, remained independent owners of their shops. Hence a wil-
ful individualism was the salient character of the English bourgeoisie. Hence
also little concentration in the realm of production; numerous independent
small shops kept up alongside of the large factories. Thus in the coal industry
the demands of security and health put up by the workers and by the Sankey
THE FOE 103
Commission, ever again were frustrated by the small mine owners not having
the means to modernize their backward installations.
Entire freedom in social life allows every new idea to be tried out and to be
put into practice, every impulse of will; whereas the lack of this liberty causes
the impeded wishes and inapplicable ideas to develop into consistent theoreti-
cal systems. So, contrasted to the broadly worked-out theoretical character of
science and activity on the continent, the English became men of practical
deeds. For every problem or difficulty an immediate practical solution was
sought without regard to further consequences, in technics as well as in poli-
tics. Science played a small part in the progress of technics. This is also a cause
much backwardness in English business life.
In this way England in the 19
th
century became the model country of old
capitalism with its free competition, careless and improvident, full of hard ego-
ism against the weak, persons as well as peoples, full of obsolete institutions
and senseless old forms, full of downtrodden misery viewed with indifference
alongside the display of luxury. Already such books as William Booth's
"Darkest England" and Robert Blatchford's "Dismal England" indicate a state
of dirty neglect not tolerated in other civilized countries, entirely left to the
individual initiative of single philanthrophists. In the later years only, and in
the new century, social reforms began to playa noticeable role; and, especially
after the first world war, a stronger concentration of capital set in.
In this way at the same time, however, the English bourgeoisie developed
that master character that was the envy of all capitalists of other countries, who
in vain tried to imitate it. For many centuries it has been living in a state of
complete freedom and unchallenged power. Through its monopoly of industry
and commerce in the 19
th
century it felt itself master of the world, the only
cosmopolitans, at home in every continent and on every ocean. It never
learned to fear; never was it faced by a superior foe attacking from outside or
a revolution threatening from within, suggesting the idea of mortality. With
unlimited self-assurance it confronts every new difficulty, sure to overcome it,
by force if it can, by concessions if it must. In foreign politics, in the founding
and defense of its world power, the English ruling class showed the capacity of
ever again adapting itself to new situations, of defying its most solemn procla.
mations of yesterday by the opposite practice of tomorrow, of "shaking hands
with murderers" where it was necessary, and, in seeming generosity, of making
allies of vanquished opponents of whom it feels that they cannot be perma-
nently kept down. All this not by a wide knowledge and foresight; on the con-
trary, it is a class rather ignorant, narrow-minded and conservative-hence
much blundering before finally the new arrangement is found-but it has the
self-sure instinct of power. The same instinctive sagacity to solve its problems
practical conduct was used in home politics to keep the working class in
spiritual and actual dependence; here with equal Success.
104 WORKERS' COUNCILS
Modern development, certainly, caused the English bourgeoisie to lose a
good deal of its exceptional position in the world; but ever again it knew how
to resign and to adapt itself to the rise of other equal powers. Already in the lat-
ter part of the 19
th
century German industry made its appearance as a serious
competitor in the world market, whilst afterwards Japan came to oust the prod-
ucts of British industry. Britain's financial supremacy was lost to America in the
first world war. But its main character, acquired in an unchallenged rule of so
many centuries was unshaken. In home politics also it knew how to adapt its
rule to the demands of the working class, by introducing a system of social
reforms and provisions. The English bourgeoisie had the good luck that the
formation of the Labor Party, transferring all workers' votes from Liberal
politicians to Labor leaders entirely filled with middle class ideas, rendered the
working class an active agent in consolidating capitalist rule-though it had to
pay for it the price of a modernizing refonn of some of the worst abominations
of capitalism. In leaders of the Labor Party it found able Cabinet Ministers,
entirely devoted to the maintenance of the capitalist system, therein represent-
ing, when these temporarily had to prevail, the pacifist tendencies.
This character of the English bourgeoisie is essential in determining the
forms of the prospective rise of the working class. vVhat must be overcome, the
power of the bourgeoisie, weakness of the workers, is not physical force but
spiritual dependence. Doubtless physical force may play its role, too, at critical
moments; English capitalism, in defense of its existence, will be able to bring
up, when necessary, strong powers of violence and restraint. But the weakness
of the English working class consists chiefly in its being entirely dominated
middle class ideas. Self-centered individualism, the conviction that everybody
has to forge his own fate, respect for traditional social relations, conservatism
of thought, are firmly rooted in it by the unchallenged power of capitalism, at
home and all over the world. Strong shocks will be needed to stir the petrified
brains; and capitalist development is at work already. When political catastro-
phes or the irresistible rise of mighty competitors undermine the world power
of the English bourgeoisie, when the privileged position of the English work-
ers has gone, when their very existence is endangered, then also for them the
only way will be the fight for power over production.
The fundamental ideas of council organization are not entirely foreign to
the English workers. At the end of the first world war the shop steward move-
ment arose, establishing a direct contact of shop representatives in preparing
fighting actions, independent of the unions. Already earlier "guild socialism"
presented many cognate conceptions; and "industrial unionism" put up the
demand of control of production, by the workers, linked, though, with the
ideas of the unions as the ruling bodies. The character of the English bour-
geoisie and the freedom of all social relations make it probable that practical
momentary solutions of the conflicts will be sought for, rather than fundamen-
THE FOE 105
tal decisions. So as an instance, we might conceive that as a temporary com-
promise, freedom of speech and discussion in the shop is established, and the
capitalist's old right of hiring and firing is restricted by the workers' right to
decide on the seniority issues of tlle personnel; this would keep the road open
to further progress. In such a course of development, when at last the partial
concessions should amount to an important loss of power, attempts of the cap-
italist class to regain supremacy by serious decisive class war carmot be avoid-
ed. Yet it seems possible that, if anywhere, in England the mastery of the work-
ers over production may be won by successive steps along intermediary fonus
of divided rule; each step unsatisfactory, and urging further steps until com-
plete freedom is reached.
2. THE FRENCH BOURGEOISIE
The development in France took place along quite different lines. In a great
political revolution the bourgeoisie, combined with the farmers, overthrew the
absolute monarchy with all its mediaeval forms, and deprived the nobility and
the church of its landed property. In explicit acts and laws the Revolution abol-
ished all feudal privileges, proclaimed the "rights of man," with private proper-
ty as their main foundation, and asserted legal equality of all citizens.
Constrained to a pitched revolutionary fight the bourgeoisie made a sharp divi-
sion between itself, garbed as the third estate, as the entire people, and the
defeated feudal classes, now completely excluded from political power. It had
to do the governing work entirely by itself. There was a clear consciousness of
the middle class character of its institutions, formulated in precise paragraphs;
the rights of Parliament, differently from English custom, were exactly circum-
scribed. These formulations of Parliamentary constitution then served as a
model for other countries. Political freedom, in England a practical fact, in
France was conscious theory. The need of explaining and formulating it creat-
ed a wealth of political literature, in books and speeches, full of lucid expres-
sion of principles. But what was lacking was the immediate feeling of complete
mastership. Practice at the same time was imperfect; the French bourgeoisie
had first to suffer military despotism, and then, in gradual steps, in a series of
smaller political revolutions, in 1830, 1848, 1870, had to win complete power
over the State.
In these revolutions, fought chiefly by the popular classes, the petty
burghers, the artisans, the workers, these learned to distinguish their own class
interests, as contrasted to capitalist interests. The workers aspired to a further
revolution that should break the new class power of capitalism, but in the
armed conflicts, in 1848 and 1871, they were defeated and butchered; partly by
their own class fellows, hired by the bourgeoisie, partly by the aid of the petty
burgherdom, shopkeepers, fanners, who all came to the rescue as defenders of
106 WORKERS' COUNCILS
private property. Thus itwas shown that the bourgeoisie had a firm grip on
society, thatthe workingclass was notyet ripe for mastery, andthatafurther
developmentofcapitalismwas needed.
Thoughin these fierce class fights the bourgeoisie hadbeenvictorious, it
did not come out without injury. Ithad lost its self:confidence. It knew that
ever it would have to defend itself against the growing power from beneath,
thateveritsrulewouldbethreatenedbytheworkingclass.Soitsoughtforpro-
tectionbyastrongStatePower. Thecentralization ofallpoliticalpowerinthe
GovernmentatParis,introducedalreadybytheConventionandbyNapoleon,
was intensifiedinthe 19
th
century. Together withthe absence ofarulingaris-
tocracyitgave apolitical aspecttoFrancequite differentfromEngland.
Moreover, economic development took a different course. Mter a strong
growthaboutthemiddleofthecenturyindustrialdevelopmentslackened.The
countryside gave nostrongsurplus ofpopulationflowing to the towns topro-
videlaborpower for a growingindustry. The savings ofsmall business men,
collected in the banks, were not used as industrial capital in founding new
enterprises, but mostly invested in governmental loans. Certainly in regions
withrichcoalandoredeposits astrongironandsteelindustrydeveloped,with
powerful capitalists at the head, often in family relation with the landed aris-
tocracy. Besides, inthe big towns, especially in Paris, as the centre offashion
for the entire European bourgeoisie, the old small-scale industry ofluxuries,
founded onpersonalskill and taste ofa numerous class ofwage-earning arti-
sans, strongly developed. But the chiefcharacter ofFrench capitalism, espe-
cially after 1870, ever more became the prevalence of financial capital as
supremepower.
Thebanks, undertheleadofthe central"Banque de France," collected the
moneyofsmall capitalists, shareholders andfarmers intoahugemass ofbank
capital. Wherever governments in Europe or other continents wanted loans
they were procured by the French banks; the bonds and shares were recom-
mendedandurgedupontheclients as agoodinvestment.Thusthesmall-prop-
erty-class in France consists mainlyofrentiers, stock-holders, living upon the
exploitationofforeignpeoples, receivingtheirincomefrom thetaxes squeezed
foreign governments outoftheir subjects. Theloans ofthese governments
usually had to serve for buying war materials orbuilding railways. So bank
capital workedinclose collaboration with thelords ofthe steel industry, usu-
ally imposing the condition that the moneywas to be spent in the afflliated
Frenchsteel works.Thusthe savings oftheFrenchrentiers wentto thecoffers
ofthesteel capitalists, andthe interestfor therentiers was providedbyforeign
taxpayers.
This predominant character ofFrench capital determined French politics,
foreign, as wellas home. Foreignpolitics servedtoprotecttheinterests ofbank
capital and the rentiers, byalliances fortifying its international power and its
THEFOE 107
influence oversmallerbackwardcountries. Bymilitarypowerwhennecessary,
it secured the payments from unwilling debtor-governments; or it converted
some barbarian chieftain into a dependent prince, providing him with
European arms to subjugate and exploit the formerly free tribes; which was
called bringingorderandcivilization.
Theproblemofhomepoliticsinbigcapitalismis always howto makepar-
liaments chosen by universal suffrage, hence dependenton the votes ofsmall
business men, offarmers and ofworkers, instruments ofthe interests ofbig
capital. In countries with a rapid industrial development this is not difficult.
The entire bourgeoisie is carried away, its business prospers through the fer-
venteconomicaction,andtheworkers, too,fullyoccupiedas theyare,andable
to win good wages, are conciliated. Big capital, with assured self-confidence
proclaims its interests to bethe commoninterestsofsocietyatlarge. Itis quite
different, however, with bank capital. Its exploitation offoreign peoples and
capturingofthesavingsoftheirOwnpeople,throughviolenceanddeceit,bears
the character ofusury and robbery. Its interests must be served behind the
scenes, bysecretarrangementswithinfluentialpoliticians.Forits purposescab-
inet ministers must be installed or deposed, partyleaders must bewon over,
members ofparliamentmustbemanipulated, papers mustbebribed-alldirty
intrigues that cannotbear the light ofday. The politicians, mostly lawyers or
otherintellectuals, forced bytheparty-machines upon the farmers andcitizens
as theirrepresentatives, considerpolitics as business, aimingathighandremu-
nerative offices as their share in the spoils. Parliamentarianismeverywhere in
modern times is degenerating because it has to put up the semblance ofthe
Common good while serving capitalist interests. But where financial capital
rules, it must deteriorate into sheer corruption. For financial capital, as repre-
sented by the French banks, has no direct connection witll labor. Its politics,
notfounded onthe actualfight ofaclass incommandofproduction,mustlive
onfalse slogans, ondeceitful promises andsoundingrhetoric.
Because in Paris during most ofthe 19
th
century small scale enterprises
were dominant, theworkingclass, notsharplyseparatedfrom the mass ofthe
small independent artisans and employers, could not develop a clear-cut class
consciousness, though it was filled with an ardent republican anddemocratic
fighting spirit. Seeing the capitalists rise by the protection ofgovernment, by
using the political power for shameless personal enrichment, whereas they
themselves wereforciblykeptdown,theworkersconsideredStatePoweras the
chiefcause oftheirexploitationandtheirmisery. So theirfeelings offree indi-
viduality, inheritance ofthe Great Revolution developed into Some kind of
anarchism,thedoctrinethatonlybycompleteabolitionoftheStateandits con-
strainingpowermankindcanbefree as an agglomeration ofindependentcol-
laboratingindividuals.
108 WORKERS' COUNCILS
When, in later years, with the gradual development and concentration of
industry, trade unions arose, these, just as in England, took the central place in
the social ideas of the working class. Not so much as practical means of partic-
ipating in prosperity, but rather, French capitalism lacking industrial and com-
mercial world power, as the theoretical basis of a better society. So towards the
end of the century syndicalism became the theory of social reconstruction
occupying the minds of the workers not only in France, but spreading over
Spain, Italy and other countries also. Syndicats is simply the French name for
trade unions. In the doctrine of syndicalism, "labor the basis of the new world,"
means that the syndicat, the union will be its organization unit. The union, it
says, is the free creation of the workers, their field of self-government, whereas
in the State the officials and politicians, and in the political parties the intellec-
tuals dominate. A political revolution that should make the State master of pro-
duction would mean a more oppressive slavery for the workers. Liberation of
the workers by revolution is only possible as a destruction of State and
Government. It must be brought about by a universal strike, a common action
of all its workers. In its place shall come the free association of all the unions;
the unions will be the bodies to organize and direct production.
These principles clearly expound their dependence on the forms of French
capitalism. Since the contents of politics stood at a wide distance from the pro-
ductive work of society with its struggle of real class interest, the working class
held itself at a wide distance from politics. Since politics was a dirty business
personal intrigue, the workers disdained to get mixed up with politics. Their
practice, proclaimed as class war, theoretically for abolishing exploitation, prac-
tically for better working conditions, was comprised entirely within the field of
production, where it acted by means of the syndicates. Syndicalism did not
intend to yield or to submit to bank capital; in the syndicalist slogans of
anti-patriotism, antimilitarism, and universal strike, it expressed its refusal to be
carried away in the militaristic policy of bank capital. But this was only a neg-
ative form of opposition, not a positive form of fight; it underrated the power-
ful hold of capital through the power of nationalistic ideas. In the principle: that
every member of the syndicat may individually take part in politics by voting
"according to his philosophic or political ideas" is expressed the primitive help-
lessness of a class that contents itself with trying to exclude from its immediate
struggle differences of opinion on society at large. The insight was lacking that
against big capital in industry solid big organizations needs must arise, involv-
ing a bureaucracy of leading offIcials. And that production directed by the syn-
dicats means production under the direction of union leaders and not by
self-management of the workers.
Practically syndicalism went down when at the outbreak of the first world
war its leaders joined their Government and submitted to their capitalist class.
This prepared the transition to overt reformist policy after the war, when in
THE FOE 109
international collaboration the differences in theory between the English,
German and French unions receded behind their common practice. In these
later years also the differences in character of capitalism in different countries,
strongly emphasized before, became less marked in the growth of industry
everywhere, in the merging of financial and industrial capital, in their common
imperialist policy of subduing foreigu peoples and of preparing for fUlure wars
for world supremacy.
The power of the French bourgeoisie consists, as everywhere, in its eco-
nomic and financial power, its spiritual power and its State power. Different
from the English bourgeoisie, its economic power is not in the first place mas-
tery over industry and world commerce, but money power; with this money it
buys propaganda and armed force, and dominates politics. The spiritual power
of French capitalism is based on the tradition of the Great Revolution and the
social institutions created by it. The proud feeling of having thrown off des-
potism and, an example for others, established legal freedom and equality, lives
as a strong tradition in the entire people. Only by nursing these feelings, by
acknowledging the democratic forms, by respecting the freedom in public opin-
ion, can capital rule over the masses who take the outer appearances for reali-
ty. And should they become rebellious, they find a strong centralized State
Power over them. The basic weakness of the French working class, notwith-
standing its gallant fights in the past, rests on the slowness of modern economic
development, the masses of the farmers, the citizens, the workers being dis-
persed over numerous petty enterprises. French capitalism lagged behind the
old power of English and the rising power of German and American capital-
ism; no fresh stream of impulses pushed the classes into strong action and ener-
getic fight.
3. THE GERMAN BOURGEOISIE
At the end of the Middle Ages a proud, free and martial burgherdom, rich
through its commerce from Italy and the East to Northern and Western
Europe, filled the flourishing German towns. Then by the discovery of
America and India world trade shifted to the shores of the Atlantic. The eco-
nomic decline found its sequel in internecine wars and invasions by foreign
powers, ransacking and murdering, entirely destroying the old wealth. The
Thirty-Years' War left Germany a devastated and impoverished country, with-
out commerce and industry, cut off from the economic development of the
West, divided into a hundred small independent States under petty princes,
powerless outside their domain, arbitrary despots at home. The largest among
them, the rising Prussian monarchy, was dominated completely by the landed
I
aristocracy, the 'Junkers," who kept the miserable farmers in servitude, masters
I
of the army as an instrument of conquest. The French revolution and the rise
t
J________
110 WORKERS' COUNCILS
of the English industry gave a first impulse to the German poets and PllliU;'U
phers, exponents of the nascent aspirations of burgherdom. Through the
Napeolonic domination the rise of nationalism had a reactionary character
fmding its theoretical expression in the solemn confession of servility; the
French revolution proclaimed the rights of man, we proclaim the duties of man.
Towards the middle of the 19
th
century industry began to develop, and with
it a first spirit of freedom, of criticism against the narrow-minded suppression
absolutism and police arbitrariness. The rising bourgeoisie prepared to
extort political rights from the Prussian monarchy, which meant a revolution
by the help of the working masses. But then, in 1848, it saw the working class
proclaim its radical demands, and even fight the propertied classes in a fierce
class struggle, at the Paris barricades. So it shrank back; the way of revolution,
of winning freedom and power for itself by winning political freedom for the
masses, was barred. When in the following industry developed ever
more, the German bourgeoisie alongside of saw the working class organ-
into an independent power. So it was pinched between an old ruling
power above, monarchy, aristocracy and army, and a rising new power
beneath, workers already talking communism. Because it wanted police pro-
tection in every strike, because it felt the working class to be its genuine eco-
nomic antagonist, it could not venture a serious fIght against State Power. And
should it eventually talk of revolution, then the aristocratic rulers would not
hesitate to rouse the workers against their employers by promising social laws
restricting the arbitrariness in the factory, and by even hinting at a "social
monarchy," protecting the working class against capitalism.
So the German bourgeoisie learned fear. Fear for the power above, fear for
the power beneath determined its social character. Never it knew that proud
feeling that only self-won freedom can waken in a social class.
Other causes aided to develop this character. Unlike France and England
that many centuries ago already had acquired their rational unity, Germany
was still divided in several dozens of insignifIcant Statelets. It was an annoying
and cumbersome impediment to the development of industry and commerce;
so many different governments and laws and rules, different systems of taxes
and coinage, custom duties at the several frontiers, every petty government
plaguing business through stupid officials, and powerless to protect it on for-
eign markets. The German bourgeoisie deeply resented the lack of a powerful
united State. A free and united Germany had been its hope at the outset of
1848; but the courage had failed to join in the fIght of the people. And now it
perceived that there was another way to acquire, not freedom, but unity: by
means of Prussian militarism. Tbe Prussian aristocracy had made its army an
excellent instrument of conquest. In a series of wars, a revolution from
the surrounding Powers were defeated or overawed, and the small German
States were subjected and combined into a powerful German Empire. And now
THE FOE III
the bourgeoisie changed its policy, left its parliamentary spokesmen alone to
make speeches against militarism, and enthusiastically hailed the "iron
and the Prussian king as its heroes.
"Despotism under Bismarck," wrote the English historian Trevelyan "had
become an active principle in the van of progress; it was no longer timidly hos-
tile to the mercantile class, to the press, education and science, but harnessed
them all to the coach of government." Formerly, in other countries, progress-
i.e., the development of capitalism-was always linked with increasing free-
dom-i.e., mastery of the bourgeoisie over government. Now, here, on the con-
trary, despotic government became the instrument for the development of cap-
italism. The constitution of the newly created Empire was animated by a mod-
ern daring spirit, and its policy by brutal energy, adequate to a strongly devel-
oping capitalism. Social reform laws and universal suffrage for the Diet secured
participation of the masses in its world politics, and the adaptation to changing
conditions. At the same time the separate States remained, with their obsolete
constitutions, with their narrow-minded officialdom, covering the field of
administration, of home affairs, of police and education, keeping the masses
subjected and continually supervised.
Thus a strong State power was put into the service of rising capitalism
without giving political supremacy to the capitalists themselves. The Prussian
landowning aristocracy remained master of modern Germany; but only by
serving the demands of capitalism. It took its share of the increasing mass of
surplus value, not only occupying the lucrative ruling posts in government, but
also using its political power to increase-by corn laws-the money produce of
its landed property. The bourgeoisie remained a class of obedient subjects,
socially influential by its money, but regarded as second class citizens, content
to conduct their business and respectfully glorifying monarchy and nobility. In
contrast to England and France, parliament had no power over government; it
could not by its vote enforce the dismissal of a cabinet. If a parliamentary
had tried such a thing by using its right of control of the budget, the
bourgeoisie would have forsaken and discarded it; rather than be dependent on
a parliament elected by the masses it preferred to be ruled from above.
Now the way was open for capitalist development without political free-
dom, Whereas the working class, continually struggling for breathing and
fighting space, was kept down by a strong hand, Germany as a mighty new
Power played its role in European politics. Industry and commerce developed
with a marvellous rapidity, overtaking all other European countries, equalled
only by the United States of America.
This was not only the fresh energy of a people, kept back through years of
adverse political conditions. In Germany industry came up half a century later
than in England, at a time of more highly developed technics. It had to begin
at the outset by introducing big machines and expensive installations requiring
-i
112 WORKERS' COUNCILS
science and capital. Science it had; long before already its scientists had taken
an honorable part in international research. Just because technical application
had been restricted better theoretical foundations could be laid, that now were
the basis, at a rapidly growing number of universities and technical schools, of
a thorough scientific training for the needs of industry. Personal wealth, how-
ever, capital, such as the factory owners in England, had accumulated out
of the profits of half a century, was lacking in Germany. There the capital need-
ed for big enterprises had to be provided by carefully collecting all small bits of
savings from the separate small capitalists. This was the function of the banks.
Thus German industry acquired a special character. To increase the profits
for a rapid accumulation of capital the productivity was raised by conscious
amelioration of its scientific basis. So from a number of markets German com-
petition was able to oust the English, confident in their tried and proved meth-
ods. At the same time the close connection of banks and industry created new
form of organization. The bank, interested in the success of enterprises because
it provided them with capital, supervised and advised their policy and brought
them into connection. This led to mutual assistance and favorite treatment
between such enterprises, to an intertwining of interests, often to the formation
of cartels, in every case to organization. The interpenetration of the directions
of the banks and big industries created a conscious common policy of continu-
ously extending their power over new branches. By investing capital here, by
enlarging existing business there, by the well-planned founding of new enter-
prises, the banks, a few groups of fiercely competing financial powers, organ-
ized industry in a systematical way, increasing profits and still more their own
share in it. Thus what first appeared as a weakness, the lack of private capital,
turned into strength. Against the self-willing independence of English business
men, confident in their traditional wealth and clientele, German industry rap-
idly rose to power through its purposeful organization. With restless energy
and fresh ambition the German bourgeoisie forced its way up in production
and world commerce, began to export capital to colonies and foreign conti-
nents, and prepared to conquer its share in world power.
In England militarism never got a footing in society. In Germany the forms
and spirit of militarism pervaded and dominated society; its code of
coarse and touchy, was aped by the middle class youth at the universities; and
to the caste of officers the business man was the despised civilian. The middle
class German looked up with deep veneration at the army, its refuge and its
instrument of power, and equally worshiped the masters of the army, the
monarch and his officers. In German constitution, Parliament, the Diet, had no
power over the army, it had solely to provide the money. This militarism
embodied the submissiveness of the German bourgeoisie, its lack of personal
its feeling of inferiority, often camouflaged as rough brutality. The
Gennan bourgeoisie never knew freedom. Entirely foreign to them is the proud
THE fOE 113
feeling of independence, as personal freedom pervading all classes in the
Western countries.
This, however, made the German bourgeoisie better adapted to the exigen-
cies of big capitalism. Organization of capitalism, based as it is on subordina-
tion under a stronger power, came easier to the German than to a capitalist
class accustomed to personal independence. The same disposition enabled the
German bourgeoisie twice to engage in the fight for world power with an
unequalled, well nigh irresistible war machine, the efficiency of which was
based on carefully prepared military and capitalist organization, technically as
as spiritually. So that its opponent, the world-commanding English bour-
geoisie, careless and unprepared, staggering under the fierce assault, had to put
up its defense by summoning all the deepest forces of its inner nature.
The American entomologist Howard, in his "Man and Insect," makes a
comparison of nature's two most successful adaptations to the "struggle for
life" in animal structure: the insects covering all their weak parts by an unas-
sailable hard and flexible skin, the mammals supporting them by a skeleton
within; and their contest over the domination of the world, the author says, is
not decided. This unage fits for a comparison of the two contending
talist classes; the Gennan bourgeoisie covering its inner softness by an outer
steel armor and assailing with the sharpest arms the apparently unprotected
foe; but the English bourgeoisie has bones in its body.
This character of the German bourgeoisie at an early date brought the
German workers to political independence. Left alone in their struggle agaulst
the oppressive police State, they were not attached to the middle class by the
tradition of a common fight for political freedom. Whereas in other countries
the hard industrial boss commanded respect by seizing power over the State
and modernizing it, in Germany the gruff master in the shop proved the sub-
missive coward in politics, giving examples in servility only. The German
workers stood directly over against the allied classes of land owners and capi-
talists; they had to fight on the political at the same time as on the economic
field. Concentrated by the rapid development of industry in large numbers in
the factories and the towns, they had to build their organizations and fmd their
own way, independent of middle class influences and traditions.
The rapid rise of social democracy demonstrated this political independ-
ence. Its name expresses the basic idea that socialist production must be won
means of democracy, by the masses conquering power over the State. Its
propaganda of class struggle aroused the increasing numbers of workers to
devoted fight, its papers and pamphlets educated them to knowledge of socie-
ty and its development. It was the energy and rapidity of capitalist develop-
ment that aroused the energy of the German working class and soon made
them the foremost and directing power in the international workers' move-
ment. It was the submissive politics of the German capitalist class, in placing
114 WORKERS' COUNCILS
them directly over against the entire ruling class, that rendered them class-con-
scious, that forced them by theory to deepen their insight in social forces, and
that made them the teachers of the workers of all countries. Just as in France
the sharp opposition between middle class and nobility had given origin to an
extensive literature on political theory, so in Germany the sharp opposition
between working class and bourgeoisie gave origin to an extensive literature on
social theory, mostly based on the scientific work of Marx. This intellectual
superiority, together with the gallant fight against oppression and despotism,
alone against the mighty rulers, attracted all progressive and idealistic elements
among the other classes, and collected around them all who longed for liberty
and hated the degrading Prussian militarism. In Germany a deep gap, social as
well as spiritual, separated two worlds, one of insolent power and wealth,
where servility glorified oppression and violence, the other of idealism and
rebelliousness, embodied in the workers' class strug-g-Ie for liberation of human-
ity.
The infiltration with idealistic middle class and intellectual elements tended
to call up ideas of peaceful petty capitalist reform and democracy, though they
were entirely at variance with the actual big capitalist conditions. Other influ-
ences went in the same direction. The increased power of the workers-politi-
cally, by finally, in 1912, mustering one-third of all the vote, economically
the rapid growth of the trade unions to giant organizations-awakened tlle
desire for direct progress in social reform. Though traditional program and
theory spoke of revolution as the goal of all activity, the real outcome was to
ascertain to the workers their place in capitalism, acknowledged not officiall
but actually, and only at the cost of continual fight. So reformist tendencies got
an increasing hold on the workers. At the deepest root of reformist mood lay,
of course, the economic prosperity that in the twenty years before the fITst
world war enormously swelled German capitalism. All this meant a
influence of capitalist and middle class ideas upon the workers.
The spiritual power of the German bourgeoisie over the working masses
was not due to its political, but to its economic achievements. Leaving
and government to others, concentrating all its attention on industry and com-
merce, the capitalist class here unfolded such capacities and energy as to push
German economy in an unrivaled tempo to the forefront of world develop-
ment. This vigour commanded respect in the workers and carried them
in the feeling of participating in a mighty world process. They felt the enor-
mous and enormously increasing power and brunt of capital, against which
their organizations appeared insufficient and against which even their own
ideals seemed to fade. So, in their sub-consciousness, they were to a certain
extent dragged on in the middle class stream of nationalism, in the desire for
national greatness and world power that burst out in the fITst world war.
THE FOE 115
In the Western countries the early political ascendency of the bourgeoisie
kept the workers in political dependence; the economic forces and crises had to
awaken them to class consciousness and class fight. In Germany the late, there-
fore more thorough economic ascendency of the bourgeoisie bound the work-
ers into spiritual dependence; here the political forces drove them into fight and
awakened their class consciousness. Opposed to a bourgeoisie entirely addict-
ed to despotism and violence the German workers will have to win their free-
dom along the difficult way of political crises and catastrophes.
4. NATIONALISM
Nationalism is the essential creed of the bourgeoisie. What for this class
stands above the individuality of separate man is the community indicated,
with small differences of meaning, by the different nanles of nation, people,
fatherland or State.
Nation and national feeling carne up and developed along with the bour-
geoisie. Original peasant life knew only the community of the village and of the
larger tribe or county or canton; for the rising burgher class the town was their
community. Their common interests did not stretch beyond these small realms.
The spoken languages varied over larger regions; their similarity over limited
regions facilitated their connection under the domination of one prince. But
usually such domination, by conquest and inheritance, extended over countries
with entirely different speech. For the farmers it hardly mattered what prince
reigned far away and over what other people.
TIris changed with the rise of commercial, and still more with that of indus-
trial capital. The merchant trading over wide countries and seas needs a
Power that protects him, fights his competitors and subdues backward tribes; if
dris is lacking he himself founds a town federation. The industrialist needs
security on the roads, unity of law, protection by a power mightier than a town.
Where by insular isolation, as in England, or by conquests of princes, as with
France, larger realms had been joined, they need only be consolidated and
strengthened from within. In other cases, as with Italy and Germany, strong
States had to be built in modern times, through wars and revolutions, through
the force of the nationalist feeling of the bourgeoisie.
This does not mean that State and nation are identical or coincide. The
State is a power structure, provided with physical means of coercion and sup-
pression; the nation is a community bound by inner forces. So the State has th.e
greatest inner solidity when it coincides with the nation. But States to increase
their power try to include regions and peoples as much as possible, though they
may belong to other nations, mixed up one with another by chance migrations
in olden times. So Denmark formerly included Germans, Germany later
included Danes and Poles, Hungary included Roumanians, Slavs and
116 WORKERS' COUNCILS
Germans, Roumania afterwards included Hungarians and Germans. 11le
Austrian Monarchy comprised seven different nationalities, never grown
together. In such cases the growth of national feeling, accompanying the rise
a modern bourgeoisie, acts as a destructive force. In cases of a seaport town
with a hinterland of different race and language (as Fiume or Dantzig) the eco-
nomic interests demanding political unity are impaired by national enmity.
A common language, as the instrument of understanding, is the strongest
force to connect people into one State and one nation. This does not mean,
however, that nations are simply communities of speech. 1ne Swiss, in their
majority, speak German; yet they are a separate nation, different from the
Germans. The English and the American nations speak the same language.
The Svviss people during five centuries already has gone its own way, different
from the way of other German-speaking people. They lived under their
institutions, ruling themselves as free peasants in a primitive democracy, whilst
the Germans were oppressed under the yoke of some hundred small tyrants.
The Swiss all experienced the same historical happenings, that molded their
mind in the same way; in continual actual and spiritual intercourse they grew
together into a similarity of character and ideas, different from those on the
other side of the frontier. It is not only the passive qualities acquired in this
way, but much more the active will, the mutual feeling of belonging together in
a community of life, that connects and separates mankind into nations. It is the
same with the English and the Americans: their separate history in different
continents each following its own fate, often in sharp hostility of capitalist inter-
ests, made them different nations. And within each nation the community of
fate, the subjection to the same historical influences impressed a common
stamp upon all; the common fight for common interest, for common freedom,
welded them into a firm unity. It produced a community of ideas embodied in
and strengthened by literature, by art, by the daily papers, constituting nation-
al culture, itself an important factor in developing the sense of nationality. Even
the bitter struggle of the classes takes place on this common ground of common
experience in the ups and downs of mutual fight as direct face-to-face oppo-
nents.
So a nation is not a community of State, not a cOIlInmnity of language, but
a community of lot [of destiny arising out of their common social-economic
practice]. Of course, these different types of community are mutually strongly
dependent. Language is a strong nation-building agent. Nationality is the
strongest State-building power. On the reverse political State power strongly
reacts in making and unmaking nations, by uniting and separating the peoples,
by establishing or destroying lot-community [a feeling of common destiny]. In
the Middle Ages Northern and Southern France, differing in language as much
as France and Spain, were united by conquest; during the rise of the bour-
geoisie they formed one country, and as a unity they experienced later revolu-
THE FOE 117
tions. Simultaneously with the Swiss mountaineers the Low Countries border-
the ocean separated politically from the large German body. A dozen of
rich merchant towns, protecting themselves on the land side by a chain of allied
provinces, they formed an independent State, raising the Holland dialect into a
separate language with its own literature and culture; and by their special his-
tory becoming a separate nation. 111e Flemish, though speaking the same lan-
guage as the Dutch, by their entirely separate and different history cannot be
considered to belong to the same nation, whereas their political unity with the
Wallons is thwarted by difference of language. Political measures, dictated by
economic interests gradually melted the Scots with the English into one nation,
whereas by such measures the Irish were driven into the consciousness of being
a separate and hostile nation.
Tnus nation is a product of history. All the happenings in the past, experi-
enced in common, determining character, feelings, culture, have settled in the
form of nationality. Nationality is congealed history, perpetuated outcome of
the past as a living force.
National character and still more national feeling, thus spontaneously grow-
ing out of society, constitute the inner strength of national States. Tney are
needed by the bourgeoisie, praised as patriotism, and furthered by special
measures. rIlle differences within the boundaries are effaced as much as possi-
ble, the differences with the outside world are emphasized and enhanced. One
common language, necessary for intercourse, is taught allover the realm, sup-
pressing the old dialects and even minority languages-as Gaelic in Wales,
Provensal in Southern France-tllat only remain as curiosities and in remote vil-
lages. And a vast literature in this common language is at work, from first child-
hood onward, to impress identical ideas and identical feelings upon the entire
population. An intentional propaganda works to intensify the mutual feelings
of connection, and to render the antagonism to everything foreign more con-
scious. The doctrine of class struggle that draws a cleavage through national
community is denounced as a danger and even persecuted as a crime against
national unity. What as a spontaneous living product of society develops and
changes with society itself, nationalism proclaims to be an eternal fact of nature
and a duty of man.
Nationality is congealed history-but history goes on, adding continuously
to the former deposit. New economic developments, growth of capital, wars
and conquests produce new interests, change frontiers, awaken new directions
of will and feeling, combine or separate peoples, break old communities and
engender new ones. So nationality, together with its deeper generating forces,
is fluctuating, in extent and content, and shows a variety of aspects.
Just as petty trade remains within big capitalism, provincialisms, remnants
of old customs and ideas, persist, and they,sometimes extend across the State
frontiers. In the time of ascending capitalism with its free trade reaching all over
118 WORKERS' COUNCILS
the world, feelings of cosmopolitism of international brotherhood of all
mankind gained ground in the bourgeoisie. Mterwards, when competition
became fierce and the ensuing fight for world power deepened nationalism, this
was ridiculed and suppressed as a childish illusion. In such parts of the world
where capitalism is just beginning to take a footing, where it begins to under-
mine primitive economy and to overthrow worn-out despotisms, we see nations
in the making. Besides profit-hungry business men, gambling adventurers,
agents of foreign capital and rapacious politicians, forming the beginning of a
bourgeoisie, it is chiefly the intellectuals, educated by European sciences and
ideas, who come forward as the spokesmen of nationalism. On the Balkans the
chance results of war often decided what adjacent valleys with cognate dialects
would be included into the Serbian or into the Bulgarian nation. In China the
class of merchants and landowners, spiritually united already by an old culture,
assisted by a Western educated class of intellectuals, gradually develops into a
modern bourgeoisie, animated by a growing spirit of nationalism. In India such
growth, though rooted in native capitalist industry, is severely hampered by an
obsolete diversity of religions. In all colonies with no bourgeoisie as yet, nation-
alism propagated by small groups of intellectuals, is the first theoretical form of
rebellion against foreign exploitation. Where, on the other hand, in groups of
a single million speaking a separate dialect nationalism arises, as wish or
whim of intellectuals, it may work as a disrnptive force in the coherence of
great units.
In the countries of modern capitalism nationalism has gone through differ-
ent forms, corresponding to the development of the bourgeoisie. When
burgherdom in its first rise becomes master in its town or realm it is freedom
for which it fights. It not only breaks the power of nobility, of land ownership
in its domain it has also to beat foreign powers that suppress or threaten its
freedom. The rise of the bourgeoisie as a ruling class is connected with war
against foreign feudal or absolutistic or previously dominant capitalistic pow-
ers. Such wars are wars of liberation, and are a kind of revolution; all enthusi-
asm, all devotion nascent from the establishment of a higher system of pro-
duction manifests itself as national passion and exalts nationalism to lofty ide-
alism. Thus it was with Holland in the 16
th
century freeing itself from the
Spanish King, with the English at the same time fighting against Spanish world
power, with America 1776 against England, with the French in the Great
Revolution against Europe led by England, with the Italians in the 19
th
centu-
ry against Austria; and even the German war against France 1870 had some
traits of it. Such wars of liberation and consolidation, establishing its inde-
pendence and power, in all later years are exalted by the bourgeoisie as the sub-
lime summits of national history.
But then, gradually, the image changes. Capitalism is exploitation, is dom-
ination of an exploited class by a ruling class. The bourgeoisie, liberating itself
THE FOE 119
from domination by land ownership, establishes new suppression. Throwing
off the yoke of foreign oppression it SOon begins to lay its yoke upon weaker
peoples, adjacent or in far away colonies. Specially with the development of big
capitalism. And always under the same slogans of nationalism. But now nation-
alism has another color. Not the freedom but the greatness of the nation is its
slogan. It appeals to the feelings of pride, to the instincts of power, in all the
other classes who have to serve the bourgeoisie as its helpers and underlings,
as spokesmen, as military and civil officers, and who take part in its power.
Now the own people is proclaimed the chosen people, superior in force and
virtue, the "grande nation," the "Herrenvolk," the "finest race among
mankind," destined to lead or to dominate other nations. As the contest for
world power, the fight for supremacy in the world between the capitalist class-
es becomes fiercer, nationalism grows into a feverish passion, often carrying
away the entire population in a common struggle for existence.
Nationalism is not simply an artificial doctrine imposed by the rulers upon
the masses. Like every system of thoughts and feelings it arises out of the depth
of society and proceeds from the economic realities and necessities. For the
bourgeoisie the nation is the community to which its weal and woe is tied; so
the old instincts of community feeling are put in its service and develop to
mighty forces of idealism. More than the adults the youth, not permeated
by the spirit of selfish profit-seeking, is susceptible to enthusiastic response to
the call of the community. For the working masses, as long as they have no pos-
sibility and no thought to fight for themselves against the bourgeoisie.
Spiritually dependent on the master-class, they have to accept, more or less
willingly, its ideas and its aims. All these influences work as spiritual forces in
the realm of instinctive spontaneity.
But then, added to it, come the deliberate efforts of the bourgeosie to inten-
sify the spontaneous feelings by artificial means. The entire education in the
schools and the propaganda in literature and papers are directed to foster and
strengthen the spirit of nationalism. Not of course by showing its connection
with the profit for capital; a clear consciousness of this connection, as in all ide-
ologies of an exploiting class, is lacking, and must be carefully withheld
the exploited masses. So other foundations must be sought for, other
deceptive arguments must be found, drawn mostly from existing traditions
based on former social conditions. The love for the birthplace where our cra-
dle stood, the remembrance of the world of our youth, of villages or town quar-
ter, small communities of peasant or artisan life, must serve to fix the adher-
ence to the nationalist State Power, where it fights foreign Powers, for the prof-
it of capital. History is colored and doctored to convert the strict truth
about the past into a brilliant one-sided image of the nation's life, apt to awak-
en strong feelings of intercommunity, of enthusiasm, of pride and admiration
120 WORKERS' COUNCILS
in young people, to elate their hearts, to strain their minds, to instigate emula-
tion, hence to solidify the imler strength of the national community.
To give a still greater solidity to the national ideology, it sometimes is
founded upon a material, physical base, on consanguinity and race. The races
of mankind have been formed in the many thousands of years of prehistoric
times. We meet with them at the dawn of history, and afterwards in surround-
ing barbaric countries and continents, as groups with similar qualities. They
have been shaped by migrations, conquests, exterminations and blendings of
primitive groups, when in more quiet times or in isolated regions the mixture
setded to specific types. The fight for living space and for possession of the
sources of life continued in later civilized history. But now, by the development
of new forms of production, as a fight of States and nations. Though both are
communities of lot [of common destiny] and are designated by the same name
of "people," there is a fundamental difference between the original races and
the later nations. The races are groups connected by the ties of blood, by con-
sanguinity; the nations, formed in the ages of production of commodities, are
groups connected by the spiritual ties of common consciousness, ideas, experi-
ence and culture.
Written history of the great migrations in later times attests how almost all
modern peoples, the nations, have been shaped by a thorough mixture of dif-
ferent races. And this process of mixing is going on though in more quiet
forms, under modern industrial conditions. Large numbers of people migrate
from the poor agrarian regions into foreign industrial towns or districts; such
as the Irish into English towns, the Czechs into Vienna, the Poles into
Rhineland, the Europeans into America. Mostly they assume language and
habits from their new surroundings as well as th.e ideas, and so are dissolved
and assimilated into its national community. Only when the migration com-
prises greater connected masses, especially when touched already by the con-
sciousness of fervid national strife, the assimilation ceases.
When a modern nation is claimed to be the pure descendants ot one ongI-
nal race, how can it be decided? The evidence of history, usually uncertain,
points to strong blending. Neither is the community of language decisive. It is
true that peasant communities tenaciously stick to their language as long as
their life and work is not influenced by other dominant languages. But it is
known quite well how often in the mixing up of peoples the language of the vic-
tors is assumed by the vanquished or the language of more civilized intruders.
Community of language later on is a strong force in the making of nations; but
it cannot make certain a community of descent. There are, further, bodily i f ~
ferences in color, hair, bodily structure and form of the skull, manifest and
large between the main groups, Europeans, Mongolians, Negroes. But they are
small in subordinate groups. And in all modern peoples these bodily charac-
teristics show the most embarrassing diversity. Ethnologists, especially in
THE FOE 121
Germany, speak of a "Nordic" race, dolichocephalic [with oblong skull],
blonde, and blue-eyed, of which the Teuton peoples were descendants and rep-
resentatives, contrasted to the darker "alpine" race, brachycephalic [with round
skull], living in Central Europe. But modem Europe shows dolichocephaly
dominant only in Norway, North-western Gennany, Holland, England, where-
as the chief part of Germany is brachycephalic, increasingly so in the later cen-
turies. The American ethnologist Dixon pointed out that the inhabitants of the
then existing Austrian monarchy as to bodily characteristics and shape of the
skull formed a nearly homogeneous race, whereas they were divided into some
seven fiercely quarreling nations, speaking as many different languages, and
brought together by different ancient wanderings and adventures. On the other
hand the French, bodily showing a mixture of most different racial character-
istics, feel and act as one homogeneous consolidated nation.
Race community as the foundation of nationality is only a fantastic theory,
devised and propagated for political purposes. The strength of Gennan nation-
alism is not rooted in the blood of the ancient Teutons but in the needs of mod-
ern capitalism. The strong real roots of nationalism are situated in economy, in
the mode of production. So it must be different for different classes.
On the working class nationalism never got much hold. In the
petty-burgher and farmer classes from which it proceeded national feeling
played no great role; and its own exploitation by capital gave another direction
to the ideas, not towards community, but towards fight with the bourgeoisie.
They perceived nationalism to be the ideology of their exploiters, often a form
of hypocrisy when the most greedy capitalists used patriotic talk to fill their
own pockets. When by unemployment they were driven to wander they found
in other countries other workers, comrades, exploited like themselves.
Practically, by their fight, and then theoretically, in their consciousness, they
drew a dividing line across the nation. Another community of lot, the
class-community detennined their feelings and thoughts, extending over all
countries. The dividing line of the classes crosses that of the nations. To the
nationalist propaganda of the bourgeoisie they opposed the reality of their life
by the statement that the workers have no fatherland. Socialist propaganda fun-
damentally opposing capitalism proclaimed internationalism to be the principle
of the working class.
But beneath the conscious thoughts and avowed doctrines there was in the
workers, in their sub-consciousness, still a certain national feeling, revealing
itself at the outbreak of the world war. Practically they had to acquiesce in the
rule of the bourgeoisie and were its subordinates; practically their fight could
do no more than ascertain their place in capitalism; so in their ideas they could
not attain complete independence. When the workers politically and socially
follow the bourgeoisie they remain middle-class-minded. In England they par-
ticipated in the profits that world commerce, industrial monopoly and colonial
122 WORKERS' COUNCILS
THEFOE 123
exploitation bestowed upon the bourgeoisie. In Germany the energy of the
bourgeoisietowinindustrialworldpowercarriedthemawayinthevaguefeel-
thatindustrial power andprosperityis a workers' interest, too. So nation-
alism inthe working class was the companion ofreformism, in England as a
hardly conscious conservative tradition, in Germany as an impetuous
instinct driven by a turbulent economic expansion. Itmustbe remarked that
working class nationalism always was pacifistic, rooted in the tradition of
petty-burgherillusions, incontrastto theaggressiveviolentnationalismofthe
bourgeoisie.
When the working class takes up its revolutionary fight, nationalism is
dropped entirely. In the new workers' organization ofproduction there is no
antagonismofinterests withotherpeoples;it extends over the countries disre-
gardingall former frontiers. Inthereconstructionofsocietyfight is onlyneed-
edagainst the capitalistclass; inthis fight the workers all over the worldhave
to rely onone another as brothers inarms; together belonging to one army.
Theyspeak different languages, certainly; butthese differences relate only to
theouterforms oftheirthoughts. Theessentialcontents, theirideas, theirfeel-
theirculture, determinedas theyare bythe sameclass struggle, thecom-
monfight as thechieflife experience, thecommonlot, areidentical. Fromhav-
ing been subjected to different national influences in previous history there
mayremain differences inpassive character andculture; butinactive charac-
ter, inthe direction ofwill, theyform oneunity. This new state ofthoughtof
theworkingclass cannotwell beindicatedbycallingitinternational;itis more
and higher than a peaceful collaboration offree and equal nations. It is the
entireabsenceofnationality;for theworkers the nations do notexist, theysee
before them the unityofmankindall over theworld, a communityofproduc-
tion, oflife, ofculture. Over all diversity ofbodilyqualities and natural sur-
roundings, oflocal speech and traditional habits stretches the interconnection
ofall mankind as one great community oflot. Thus nationalism disappears
from the earthtogetherwith the class thatwas its author.
Thisis ofthefuture. Forthetimebeingnationalismexistsas astrongpower
obstructing the way. For the workers it is necessary not only to destroy all
nationalist tradition in themselves, but also, in order to avoid illusions, to
understandits strengthinthehostile class. Nationalismdoes notbelongto the
ideologies thatas traditionsofthepasttimes aregraduallyextinguishedunder
modernconditions.Itis alivingideology, drawingits forces everanewfrom a
fertile economicsoil, standinginthecentreoffight, theflagofthefoe. German
historyofthelastquarterofacenturyoffersanexampleofhowafterthedown-
breakofherStatepowerthebourgeoisiewas able toresuscitateitselfbymeans
ofspiritualpower, throughnationalism, andthus to buildupanewmorepow-
erful state.
The outbreak ofthe first world war 1914 was the catastrophe ofsocial
democracy and labor movement. Theparty and union leaders placed all the
power oftheir organization, its press, its moral authorityat the service ofthe
GovernnlentinGermany,consideredas theforemost examplefor theworking
class, andin all other countries. Itwas the collapse ofall the proudprogram
slogans ofclass struggle and ofinternationalism. The workers havingput all
theirconfidence,theirfaithintotheirparty,theirorganization,nowwerepow-
erless againstthenationalistpropaganda,against the combinedpressureofthe
militaryandthe partyapparatus.
Thencame1918-thedownbreakoftheGermanmilitarypower.Therebel-
lion ofthe sailors, the strikes and demonstrations inthechieftowns, the for-
mation of workers' and soldiers' councils carried the socialist leaders into
power. Theywere the onlymentokeep theworkingclass incheckandtopre-
venta real workers' revolution, which theyhated andfeared noless thandid
thegenerals andthe capitalists. Theworkingmasses found thepoliticalpower
fallen into their hands; buttheydid notknow what to do with it. Again they
puttheirfaith into the party, in their leaders, andpassivelysuffered the small
advance groups ofrevolutionary fighters and spokesmen to be massacred by
military forces at the command ofthe socialist rulers. Theyhad always been
taught that the partywould bring them socialism. Now the party, now their
leaders wereinoffice; now socialismwas to come.
Whattheygotwas capitalism. Thesocialistleadersdidnottouchcapitalist
property, not even aristocratic land ownership. By convoking a National
Assembly they immediatelyrestoredparliamentarism, which hadalways been
their life element. So the bourgeoisie gained an official centre of organized
power. Itwas quite contentthat socialistanddemocraticpoliticians, beguiling
the masses with the illusion ofpower, occupied the upper places; afterwards
theycould beturned outgraduallyandreplacedbyliberals andreactionaries.
Capitalism acted as it always acts: it exploited the masses, expropriated the
middle classes, aggravatedtheeconomicchaos bygamblingwiththemeans of
production, bribed the officials, and threw society into ever new crises of
unemployment. And all discontent and exasperation turned against the new
republicandits parliamentaryleaders.
Nowthebourgeoisie begantobuildupits fightingpowerbutofall theele-
ments thatwere depressed and embittered bythe new conditions: the middle
class youth, flung downfrom its high hopes for victory andfuture greatness;
the dismissedmilitaryofficers, exasperatedbydefeat, entirelylivinginthe old
conceptions; the young intellectuals, in despair at seeing the governmental
offices once consideredas theirmonopolynowoccupiedbydespised socialists
andJews.Allimpoverishedbythe devaluationofthemoney, all flliedwithbit-
terness overthehunliliationoftheirCOUIltry, all drivenbya fierce will to take
up again thefight for worldpower. Theirbindingforce was anardentnation-
J
THE FOE 125
124 WORKERS' COUNCILS
alism, blasted into white heat by the enforced humiliating peace conditions, ani-
mated by hatred against the slack nationality of the meek rulers no less than
against the foreign victorious enemies. They stood up as the bearers of sublime
national ideas, whereas the workers over against them could show no more
than either contentment over the mock democracy of a worthless republic, or
the sham revolutionist talk of bolshevist party dictatorship. Thus the most
active elements among the up-growing youth were assembled and drilled into
fighting bands, inspired by fiery nationalist teachings. Big capital provided the
means for a continuous propaganda among the population. Until the world cri-
sis of 1930 raised them to political importance. The impotent socialist leaders
did not even venture to call upon the armed workers for resistance. The
"world-liberating" social democracy ignominiously went to ruin as a
worm-eaten wreck. Nationalism now raised to the highest pitch, easily annilli-
lated the parliamentary republic, and began to organize all the forces of the
nation for a new war for world power.
5. AMERICAN CAPITALISM
The white population of the U.S.A. descends from European immigrants
who, most energetic and independent elements of their peoples, crossed the
ocean to escape oppression, persecution and poverty. From the first settlements
on the Eastern coast, with its commercial towns, they gradually expanded over
the entire continent exterminating in continuous fight the Indian natives, clear-
ing the forests, subduing the wilderness, and converting it into cultivated land.
In all these pioneers, as a necessary character developed a strong individual-
a daring adventurous spirit, self-reliant, hard, alert, watchful and relentless
in the surrounding dangers, and a love of liberty taking and making its own
right. Not only in the forerunners, the trappers and farmers, but also in the
dealers, the artisans, the business men, who followed them, populating the new
towns and creating a new existence for themselves. Whereas in old Europe
everybody found himself in fixed conditions, here everything had to be shaped
anew. In the hard and pitiless struggle for life, that left no time for spiritual con-
centration, in the creation of great enterprises and fortunes, respect for success
in life and business became the outstanding character of American society.
Thus conditions for both capital and labor were different from Europe. To
keep the workers from trying their luck as pioneers in the wide spaces, high
wages must be paid, thus furthering the introduction of labor-saving machines.
This privileged position, fixed by craft unions, could be upheld until modern
times. Then in the last decades of the 19
th
century, destitute masses of immi-
grants from Southern and Eastern Europe began to pour in and fill the facto-
ries and slums of the Eastern towns with cheap labor power.
And in the present century free soil came to an end.
Capital was the leading power in the 19
th
century expansion. It had not to
fight a feudal power or class; with the throwing off, in the war of independence,
of the domination of English 18
th
century commercial capital, it had won com-
plete mastery. The absence of any feudal tradition, of all respect for privilege
of birth made respect for property, for the reality of dollar power paramount.
Anlerican capital soon played the chief role in opening up the Western wilds by
digging canals and building railways. Through its friends in Congress it was
rewarded for this service to the nation with big allotments for exploitation, pay-
ing not more than the bribes, the form by which the politicians got their share
of the profits. The timber of the endless woods, the fertile soil along the rail-
ways, the rich ore deposits in the earth, all became property of the capitalists.
And in their wake colonists from the Eastern States or from Europe populated
the West, farmers and business men finding their villages and towns ready
made, lumber workers and miners ordering their life by the law of the wild,
soon to be substituted by the organs of Government and public law.
The seizure of the natural riches of an immense virgin continent laid the
foundation for the rapid growth of big fortunes. In Europe this seizure and
exploitation had been the task of a large citizen class during many centuries;
thus the profit-economically a form of rent-was spread out in the form of
moderate wealth for the many, only exceptionally-as with the Fugger family in
Augsburg-creating big fortunes. In America this process in the second half of
the 19
th
century concentrated within a short time, raising rapidly a small class
of supercapitalists, of multimillionaires.
The big American fortunes have not been formed by regular accumulation
of industrial profit, but in the first instance by the accession, partly through
trafRc monopolies, partly through political corruption, of valuable primary
materials. In stubborn mutual fight, destroying or subduing larger and smaller
competitors, big monopolies were erected that laid a heavy tribute upon the
entire population and snatched part of the industrial surplus value from the
hands of the industrial capitalists. More rapidly and more ruthlessly than else-
where the supremacy of big capital over the entire bourgeoisie, the power of big
fmance over industry, and the concentration of capitalist power in a small num-
ber of big concerns was established. Monopoly of course does not mean a full
hundred per cent control over a branch: if it reaches only, say, 80 per cent, out-
siders are harmless and usually follow the lead of the monopolists. So there
remains a border region for individual efforts of smaller capitalists to wrestle
themselves up to secondary importance. Neither are all of the profits pocketed
by the monopolists themselves; part of the shares is left to the capitalist public
to gamble with and to enjoy the dividends without thereby having any share in
the leading of the business. In this way at the same time all the smaller capital-
ists' property comes at the disposal of the monopolist, to use it in their strate-
-l
126 WORKERS' COUNCILS
gy of mutual capital warfare, just as in olden times the kings made use of the
combined fighting power of the dependent barons.
Yet, what remains as income for the monopolists is so enormous that it can-
not be consumed or spent by themselves. With such boundless richness the
motive of securing wealth for luxurious satisfaction of all needs is absent; many
of th.e monopolist leaders, indeed, live rather frugally. What drives them is the
striving for power, for expansion of their domination over ever wider domains
of economic life-an automatic impulse of business instinct swollen to irra-
tionality. The example was set long ago already byJohn D. Rockefeller, whose
yearly income was then estimated at nearly a hundred millions of dollars. No
luxury, however crazy, was able to absorb the stream of gold flowing into his
hands; he did not concern himself with the spending, and left it to an office of
secretaries. No young spendthrifts could, as in olden times, destroy the for-
tunes collected by their fathers; this property has now become an unassailable
family possession. As a new feudal class "America's sixty families" hold sway
over the sources of life of society, living in their castles and large estates, some-
times possessors of almost a whole State, as the Dupont family in Delaware.
They are mightier than the kings of old, who only could try to squeeze their
share out of the profits of the capitalist class; they are the masters of the very
capital power of society, of all the rapidly growing productive forces of a rap-
idly developing continent.
Power over production means power over politics, because politics is one of
the basic means to secure power over production. Politics in America was
always different from politics in Europe, because here there was no feudal class
to beat down. In its fight against the domination of the feudal class the
European bourgeoisie acquired its sense for the supremacy of class interests
above personal interests, thus in their pursuit developing idealism and self-sac-
rifice. So in Europe politics was a domain where disinterested politicians could
work for sublime principles, for the "public interest." In America there was no
need and no room for such class-politics; interests from the beginning were per-
sonal or group interests. Thus politics was business, a field for pursuit of per-
sonal interests like any other field of activity. Only in later years, when the
working class awoke and began to talk of socialism, as its counterpart came up
some talk of public interests of society, and the first traces of reform politics.
The result, accepted as inevitable, was that politics often is graft. In their
first rise the monopolists had no other means than direct bribing. Often the
word is quoted as spoken by John D., that everybody can be bought if you only
know his price. A continuous fight on the part of the smaller capitalists, of com-
petitors, and of spokesmen of public honesty, before the courts in the legisla-
tive bodies tried in vain either to punish or to redress fraud, or to so much as
disclose truth. It was on such an occasion that a senator friend of the accused
millionaire exclaimed: "We ought to pass a law that no man worth a hundred
THE FOE 127
of million dollars should be tried for a crime." Indeed, the masters of capital
stand above law; why, then, maintain the troublesome appearance that they are
equal citizens, subject to law?
When the power of big business becomes more firmly rooted and unassail-
able, these coarse methods gradually became superfluous. Now it had a large
attendance of friends, of clients and agents, of dependent proxies, all men of
standing, put into well-paid honorable offices, influential in politics as in all
public life. They are or they influence the party leaders, they form the caucus-
es, they manage everything behind the scenes at the party congresses and select
congress members, senators and candidates for the presidency. The hundred
thousands of dollars necessary for the noisy election campaigns are paid by
business; each of the big interests has one of the two great contending parties
as its agent, and some of the largest even pay both. To fight this "corruption,"
or at least to expose it by publicity their adversaries succeeded in enacting that
each party had to give public account of its finances, thus to show the sources
of its funds. It was a blow in the air; it created no sensation and not even sur-
prise: it appeared that public opinion was entirely prepared to accept the dom-
ination of politics by big business as a self-evident fact of common knowledge.
The press of course is entirely in the hands of big capital. The big papers
are bought, or an unlimited amount of dollars is spent to have new papers
founded by its retainers. Most important here are the popular local paper pro-
viding the spiritual nurture for the millions of voters. At the same time the lead-
ing papers offer to the educated classes, in order to direct their opinions, able
articles on science, art, literature, foreign politics, carefully written by good
experts. No independent press of wide circulation is possible. Sometimes a
cross-headed rich idealist founded a paper open to exposure and criticism of
the secret dealings of the capitalists. Attempts were then made to capture or to
undermine it; if they failed, its revelations, its opinions, its existence even were
never alluded to in the other papers, in a conspiracy of silence, so that its influ-
ence remained entirely negligible.
'Ibis press dominates the spiritual life of the American people. The most
important thing is not even the hiding of all truth about the reign of big finance.
Its aim still more is the education to thoughtlessness. All attention is directed
to coarse sensations, everything is avoided that could arouse thinking. Papers
are not meant to be read-the small type is already a hindrance-but in a rapid
survey of the fat headlines to inform the public on unimport news items, on
family t.riflngs of the rich, on sexual scandals, on crimes of the underworld, or
boxing matches. The aim of the capitalist press all over the world, the divert-
ing of the attention of the masses from the reality of social development, from
their own deepest interests, nowhere succeeds with such thoroughness as in
America.
128 WORKERS' COUNCILS
Still more than by the papers the masses are influenced by broadcasting and
film. These products of most perfect science, destined at one time to be the
finest educational instruments of mankind, now in the hands of capitalism have
been turned into the strongest means to uphold its rule by stupefying the
minds. Because after nerve-straining fatigue the movie offers relaxation and dis-
traction by means of simple visual impressions that make no demand on the
intellect, the masses get used to accept thoughtlessly and willingly all its cun-
ning and shrewd propaganda. It reflects the ugliest sides of middle-class socie-
ty. It turns all attention either to sexual life, in this society-by the absence of
community feelings and fight for freedom-the only source of strong passions,
or to brutal violence; masses educated to rough violence instead of to social
knowledge are not dangerous to capitalism. Broadcasting by its very nature is
an organ of rulers hip for dominating the masses, through incessant one-sided
allocations forcing its ideas, its viewpoints, its truths and its lies upon the lis-
teners, withont possibility of discussion or protest. As the genuine instruments
of spiritual domin.ation of the millions of separate individuals by an organized
dictatorship it is used by big capital to assert its power.
Not only to the coarse work of mass propaganda through the papers, but
also to the more subtle influencing of deeper spiritual life the masters of capi-
tal extend their care. Reviews are bought or founded, richly illustrated
Weeklies or Monthlies are edited and composed by able men of letters and
expert collaborators. They are full of instructive and attractive stuff carefully
selected in. such a way that the cultured and intellectual part of the citizens learn
to feel and to think just as monopolist capital wishes them to, namely, that their
country is a great country, and a free country, and a young country, destined
to a far greater future, and-though there are some defects to be corrected by
deserving citizens-the best possible of worlds. Here the young intellectuals find
their opportunities; if they should be inclined to thwarting the mighty, to inde-
pendent criticism, to sharp opposition they are ejected, ignored, and silenced,
hampered everywhere, perhaps morally ruined; if docile and ready to serve the
masters the way is open to well remunerated positions and public honors.
Science, too, is subject to the millionaire class. The English tradition of pri-
vate endowment not only of churches, hospitals and orphanages, but also of
universities, professorships and libraries, has been followed in America from
the begliming. Enormous sums of money have been spent by American mil-
lionaires of course not all of them, and not even the richest-on institutes of arts
and sciences, on museums, galleries, universities, laboratories, hospitals, obser-
vatories, libraries. Sometimes from idealistic motives, sometimes in commemo-
ration of a relative, sometimes for mere pride, always with an instinct ofjustice
in it: where they had seized for their own the riches that elsewhere went to soci-
ety at large, theirs was the duty to provide for such special, large, cultural
expenses not inunediately felt as needed but yet necessary as the basis of soci-
THE FOE 129
ety in the long run. Spending in this way only a small part of their wealth they
acquired fame as protectors of science, as benefactors of mankind. Their names
are inscribed in big golden letters on the fronts of the proud buildings: Field
Museum, McCormick University, Widener Library, Carnegie Institute, Lick
Observatory, Rockefeller Foundation. And this means more than simply the
satisfaction of personal pride. It means that the entire world of science becomes
their adherents and considers their exploitation of the American people more
desirable condition for the advancement of science than when in other coun-
tries money for science must be extorted in meagre anlOunts from uninterest-
ed governments. Founding and endowing universities means controlling them;
thus the millionaires, by means of their agents who act as presidents and over-
seers, can see to it that no dangerous elements as teachers may influence the
ideas of the students.
The spiritual power that big capital wields in this way hardly requires any
sacrifices on their side. If it left all these expenses to Government to provide it
would have to pay for them in the form of taxes. Now such foundations are
exempt from taxes and often are used as a means to escape taxation. The dona-
tions consist of shares of large enterprises; what these institutions receive is the
dividend, and money produce for which the capitalists have no other use. The
voting power attached to the shares, however, needed in the manipulation and
financial strategy of the masters, the only thing that concerns them, by carefully
devised statutes is securely kept in the hands of their agents.
Thus in a fIrm grip the monopoly capitalists dominate industry, traffic, pro-
duction, public life, politics, the church of course, the press, the reviews, the
universities, science and art. It is the most highly developed form of class dom-
ination, of an all powerful small minority over the entire bourgeoisie, and thus
over the entire American people, "United States incorporated." It is the most
perfect form of capitalist rule, because it is based on democracy. By the demo-
cratic forms of life it is firmly rooted in society; it leaves all the other classes-
the smaller bourgeoisie, the intellectuals, the farmers, the mass of the workers-
convinced that they are free men in a free country, struggling of course against
mighty social forces, but still master of their lot, choosing their own way. It has
been built up, gradually and instinctively, in a shrewdly composed organization
of all economic and spiritual forces. The main part of business, as well as of
spiritual life is interwoven into a system of dependencies, accepted as existing
conditions, camouflaged in an appearance of independent action and free indi-
viduality. Whoever tries opposition is thrown out and destroyed; whoever col-
laborates willingly, though obliged to continual struggle with competitors, finds
his place in the system.
Against this domination of the big monopolists the capitalist world has no
means of resistance or redress. Hundreds of times, in the most varied ways,
attempts have been made to break their power, by action before the courts, by
130 WORKERS' COUNCILS
legislation against trusts and combinations, by election campaigns, by new
political parties with new slogans. But it was all in vain. Of course; for it would
have meant return to unorganized small business, contrary to the essential
nature of social development. Attempts to prepare the way for further devel-
opment towards collective production, by means of fundamental criticism, were
made in the propaganda of "technocracy" by a group of intellectuals and engi-
neers, as well as in the action of the Social-Democratic Party. But their foices
were too weak. The bulk of the intellectual class feels well off and content with
the system. And as long as skilled labor succeeds in maintaining its position by
means of its unions, a powerful revolutionary class-action of the workers can-
not be expected.
The American workers have always felt the hard hand of capital and had
to fight ever again against its pressure. Though simply a fight over wages and
working conditions, it was fought with all the fierceness that under the wild
conditions of unbridled business egotism accompanied all fight for mere per-
sonal interests. What appeared in such conflicts between labor and capital was
first the solidarity of the entire class of business men with big capital. It was an
instinctive class-consciousness, fanned to white-heat by the press that, entirely
in the hands of capital's servants, denounced the strikers for forged outrages
and called them anarchists and criminals. And secondly the spirit of lawless-
ness and violence in the same class, inheritance of the pioneer conditions, espe-
cially vivid in the far West. The old methods of wild warfare against the
Indians and of taking law into their own hands were now used against the new
foe, the rebelling class, the strikers. Armed bands of citizens promoted to civic
guards and thus qualified to any lawless deed of violence, imprisoned and ill-
treated the strikers and applied every form of terrorism. The workers, their old
independent pioneer spirit not yet broken, resisted with all means, so that
strikes often took the character of small civil wars in which case of course the
workers usually had the worst of it. In the industrial towns of the East a well
organized police force, strong fellows convinced that strikers are criminals,
stand in the service of mayors and town councils who themselves are installed
as its agents by big capital. When in big plants or in mining districts strikes
broke out, troops of rowdies from the underworld, procured by the Pinkerton
office, sworn in by the authorities as special constables, were let loose upon the
workers. Thus in America only in extreme cases the workers on strike might
hope for the amount of right and order as is the rule, e.g., in England.
All this was no hindrance for the workers to fight. The American labor
movement has shown brilliant examples of fighting spirit, courage and devo-
tion, though they always acted in separate groups only. From now on, howev-
er, new methods of fight, greater unity, new forms of organization will gradu-
ally be enforced upon them. Conditions are changing; there is no more open
land to be settled by pioneers-though, more broadly considered, with better
THE FOE 131
methods the continent might feed many more millions of inhabitants. Now it
will be more difficult to uphold the old wage standards. Since the stream of
immigration has been stopped the process of Americanization of the old inmli.
grants is equalizing the working and fighting conditions, and prepares the basis
for an all encompassing unity of class. The further conditions will have to be
created by the further expansion of capitalism.
American capital is now entering upon world politics. Up till now all its
time and force was occupied by organizing and raising itself by taking posses-
sion of its continent. Then the first world war made it the paramount financial
power. The American supply of war materials to Europe had to be paid, first
with European property of American shares, and then with gold and obliga.
tions. London lost to New York its place as money-center of the world. All the
European gold assembled in America, property of the American capitalist class.
Its congestion already brought a world crisis, because there was no market for
an industrial production built upon this abundance of gold.
Such a market, however, can be created. Thronged in the fertile plains and
valleys of Eastern and Southern Asia, many hundreds of millions of people,
nearly half the population of the earth, are living as yet in home production or
small scale craft and tillage. To convert these intelligent and industrious mass-
es first into buyers of industrial products and then into industrial and agrarian
workers in the service of capital is the big opportunity that now faces American
capitalism. The supplying of this enormous market will secure an age of rise
and prosperity for American industry. The investment of capital, the building
of railways and factories, the founding of new industries in those thickly pop-
ulated countries, prolnises immense profits from capitalist exploitation and
immense increase of power. It is true that, by creating of a capitalist China a
mighty competitor will be raised for the future, with the prospect of future
world war farther ahead; but that is of no concern now. For the moment the
concern is to secure this market by ousting other world powers, especially the
strongly developed Japanese capitalism that was at work to found an
East-Asiatic Empire under its lead. World politics means wars; that will intro-
duce militarism in America, with all its constraint, with its barrack drill, with
its restriction of old liberties, with more violence and heavier pressure.
Camouflaged of course in democratic forms, but still creating new conditions
of life, new feelings and ideas, a new spiritual outlook, somehow resembling
those of old Europe. Then the American workers, partly participating in the
power and prosperity of the rise, partly pressed down more heavily by more
powerful masters, will needs develop more powerful forms of class fight.
American capitalism built up a power over society and the working class
unequalled over the world. Social and political democracy afford a far more
solid foundation than any dictatorship could give. Its power rests on its con-
centrated ownership of all means of production, on its money, on its unre-
132 WORKERS' COUNCILS
stricted power over State and Government, on its spiritual domination over the
entire society. Against a rebellious working class it will be able to bring all the
organs of the State into sharper action, to organize still larger bodies of anned
defenders, through its press monopoly to incite public opinion into a spiritual
terrorism; and when necessary, democracy may even be replaced by open dic-
tatorship. So the working class also will have to rise to a far greater height of
power than ever before. Against a more powerful foe higher demands of unity,
of insight, of devotion must be satisfied anywhere else in the world were need-
ed. Their development doubtless requires a long period of fight and growth.
The chief weakness of the American working class is its middle class mentali-
ty, its entire spiritual SUbjection under middle class ideas, the spell of democra-
cy. They will be able to throw it off only by raising their minds to a deeper class
consciousness, by binding themselves together into a stronger class unity, by
widening their insight to a higher class-culture than anywhere else in the world.
The working class in America will have to wage against world capitalism
the most difficult, at the same time the decisive fight for their and the world's
freedom.
6. DEMOCRACY
Democracy was the natural fonn of organization of the primitive cornmu-
nities of man. Self-rule and equality of all the tribe members determined in
their assemblies all the common activities. The same was the case in the first
rise of burgherdom, in the towns of Greece in antiquity, of Italy and Banders
in the Middle Ages. Democracy here was not the expression of a theoretical
conception of equal rights of all mankind, but a practical need of the econOIIl-
ie system; so the journeymen in the guilds took as little part in it as the slaves
in antiquity; and larger property usually carried larger influence in the assem-
blies. Democracy was the form of collaboration and self-rule of free and equal
producers, each master of his own means of production, his soil or his shop and
his tools. In ancient Athens it was the regular citizens' assemblies that decided
on the public affair, whereas the administrative functions, held for small
ods only, circulated by lot. In the mediaeval towns the artisans were organized
in guilds, and the town government, when not in the hands of patrician fami-
consisted of the leaders of the guilds. When at the end of the middle ages
the mercenaries of the princes got ascendancy over the armed citizens the free-
dom and democracy of the towns were suppressed.
With the rise of capitalism the era of middle class democracy begins, fun-
damentally though not at once actually. Under capitalism all men are inde-
pendent owners of commodities, all having the same right and freedom to sell
them at their will-the unpropertied proletarians own and sell their labor power.
The revolutions that abolished feudal privileges, proclaimed freedom, equality
THE FOr: 133
and property. Because in this fight the combined force of all citizens was need-
ed, the promulgated constitutions bore a strongly democratic character. But the
actual constitutions were different; the industrial capitalists, as yet not very
numerous and powerful, were in fear lest the lower classes whom they trod
down by competition and exploitation, should control legislation. So to these
classes, excluded from the ballot, during the entire 19
th
century political
democracy is program and goal of their political activities. They are animated
by the idea that through the establishment of democracy, through universal suf-
frage, they will win power over government and in that way be able to restrain
or even to abolish capitalism.
And, to all appearance, tlllS campaign succeeds. Gradually the suffrage is
extended, and finally in nearly all countries the equal vote for all men and
women for the election of members of parliament is established. So this time
often is spoken of as the age of democracy. Now it becomes apparent that
democracy is not a danger for capitalism, not weakness but strength.
Capitalism stands on a solid basis; a numerous middle class of wealthy indus-
trial employers and business men dominates society and the wage eanung
workers have found their acknowledged place. It is now understood that a
social order gains in solidity when all the grievances, all the misery and dis-
content, othervvise a source of rebellion, find a regular and normalized outIet
in tlle form of criticism and charge, of parliamentary protest and party strife.
In capitalist society there is a perpetual contest of interests between the classes
and groups; in its development, in the continuous changes of structure and
shifting of industries new groups with new interests arise and demand recogni-
tion. With suffrage universal, not artificially limited, they all find their spokes-
men; any new interest, according to its significance and power, can carry its
weight in legislation. Thus parliamentary democracy is the adequate political
foml for rising and developing capitalism.
Yet the fear for the rule of the masses could not do without warrants against
"misuse" of democracy. Ine exploited masses must have tile conviction that by
their ballot they are master of their fate, so that if they are not content it is their
own fault. But the structure of the political fabric is devised in such a way that
government through the people is not government by the people.
Parliamentary democracy is only partial, not complete democracy.
Only one day in four or five years the people have power ever the dele-
gates; and on election day noisy propaganda and advertising, old slogans and
new promises are so overwhelming that there is hardly any possibility of criti-
cal judgment. The voters have not to desiguate trusted spokesmen of their
own: candidates are presented and recommended by the big political parties,
selected by the party caucuses; and they know that every vote on an outsider
is practically thrown away. The workers adapted themselves to the system by
forming their own party-in Germany the Social Democratic Party, in England
134 WORKERS' COUNCILS
the Labor Party-playing an influential role in parliament, sometimes even pro-
viding cabinet ministers. Then, however, its parliamentarians had to play the
game. Besides their special concern, social laws for the workers, most questions
subjected to their decisions relate to capitalist interests, to problems and diffi-
culties of capitalist society. They get used to be caretakers of these interests and
to deal with these problems in the scope of existing society. They become
skilled politicians, who just like the politicians of other parties constitute an
almost independent power, above the people ..
Moreover, these parliaments chosen by the people have not full power over
the State. Next to them, as a guarantee against too much influence of the mass-
es stand other bodies, privilegcd or aristocratic-Senate, House of Lords, First
Chamber-whose consent is necessary for the laws. Then the ultimate decision
is mostly in the hands of princes or presidents, living entirely in circles of aris-
tocratic and big capitalist interests. They appoint the State secretaries or cabi-
net ministers directing the bureaucracy of officials, that do the real work of gov-
erning. By the separation of the legislative and the executive part of govern-
ment the chosen parliamentarians do not themselves govern; besides law-mak-
ing they can only indirectly influence the actual governors, by way of criticism
or of refusing money. What is always given as the characteristic of real democ-
racy: that thc people chooses its rulers, is not realized in parliamentary democ-
racy. Of course not; for its purpose is to secure the rule of capitalism through
the illusion of the masses that they have to decide thcir own fate.
So it is idle talk to speak of England, of France, of Holland as democratic
countries-only for Switzerland this may fit in a way. Politics is the reflection of
the state of feelings and ideas in the people. In custom and feeling there is the
spirit of inequality, the respect for the "upper" classes, old or new; the worker
as a rule stands cap in hand before the master. It is a remnant of feudalism, not
eradicated by the formal declaration of social and political equality, adapted to
the new conditions of a new class rule. The rising bourgeoisie did not know
how to express its new power otherwise than by donning the garb of the feu-
dallords and demanding from the exploited masses the corresponding profes-
sions of respect. Exploitation was made still more irritating by the arrogance of
the capitalist asking servility also in manners. So in the workers' struggle the
indignation of humiliated self-respect gives a deeper coloring to the fight
against misery.
In America it is just the reverse. In the crossing of the ocean all remem-
brances of feudalism are left behind. In the hard struggle for life on a wild con-
tinent every man was valued for his personal worth. As an inheritance of the
independent pioneer spirit a complete democratic middlc class feeling pervades
all classes of American society. This inborn feeling of equality neither knows
nor tolerates the arrogance of birth and rank; the actual power of the man and
his dollar is the only thing that counts. It suffers and tolerates exploitation the
THE FOE 135
more unsuspectingly and willingly, as this exploitation presents itself in more
democratic social forms. So American democracy was the firmest base and is
still the strongest force of capitalism. The millionaire masters are fully con-
scious of this value of democracy for their rule, and all spiritual powers of the
country collaborate to strengthen these feelings. Even colonial policy is domi-
nated by them. Public opinion in America abhors the idea that it should sub-
jugate and dominate foreign peoples and races. It makes them its allies, under
their own free government; then the automatic power of financial supremacy
makes them more dependent than any formal dependence could do. It must be
understood, moreover, that the strong democratic character of social feelings
and customs does not implicate corresponding political institutions. In
American government, just as in Europe, the constitution is composed in such
a way as to secure the rule of a governing minority. The President of the U.S.
may shake hands with the poorest fellow; but president and Senate have more
power than King and upper houses have in most European governments.
The inner untruthfuhless of political democracy is not an artful trick invent-
ed by deceitful politicians. It is the reflection, hence an instinctive consequence,
of the inner contradictions of the capitalist system. Capitalism is based upon
the equality of citizens, private owners, free to sell their commodities-the cap-
scll the products, the workers sell their labor power. By thus acting as
free and equal bargainers they find exploitation and class antagonism as the
result: the capitalist master and exploiter, the worker actually the slave. Not by
violating the principle of juridical equality, but by acting according to it the
result is a situation that actually is its violation. This is thc inner contradiction
of capitalist production, indicating that it can be only a transition system. So it
can give no surprise that the same contradiction appears in its political form.
The workers cannot overcome this capitalist contradiction, their exploita-
tion and slavery proceeding from their legal liberty, as long as they do not rec-
ognize the political contradiction of middle-class democracy. Democracy is the
ideology they brought along with them from the former middle-class revolu-
tionary fights; it is dear to their hearts as an inheritance of youthful illusions.
As long as they stick to thcse illusions, believe in political democracy and pro-
claim it their program they remain captives in its webs, struggling in vain to
free themselves. In the class struggle of today this ideology is the most serious
obstacle to liberation.
When in 1918 in Germany military Government broke down and political
power fell to the workers unrestrained by a State Power above, thcy were frce
to build up their social organization. Everywhere workers' and soldiers' coun-
cils sprang up, partly from intuition of necessities, partly from the Russian
example. But the spontaneous action did not correspond to the theory in their
heads, the democracy theory, impressed by long years of social-democratic
teaching. And this theory now was urged upon them with vehemence bv their
136 WORKERS' COUNCILS
political and union leaders, To these leaders political democracy is the element
where they feel at home, in managing affairs as spokesmen of the working
class, in discussion and fight with opponents in parliament and conference
room, What they aspired at was not the workers master of production instead
of the capitalists, but they themselves at the head of State and society, instead
of the aristocratic and capitalist officials. This for them was meaning and con-
tents of the German revolution. So they gave out, in unison with the entire
bourgeoisie, the slogan of a "National Assembly" to establish a new democrat-
ic constitution. Against the revolutionary groups advocating council organiza-
tion and speaking of dictatorship of the proletariat they proclaimed legal equal-
of all citizens as a simple demand of justice. Moreover, the councils, they
said, if the workers were set on them, could be included into the new constitu-
tion and thereby even get an acknowledged legal status. Thus the mass of the
workers, wavering between the opposite slogans, their heads full of the ideas of
middle-class democracy, offered no resistance. With the election and meeting
of the National Assembly at Weimar the German bourgeoisie acquired a new
foothold, a centre of power, an established Government. In this way started the
course of events that fmalIy led to the victory of National Socialism.
Something analogous, on a minor scale, was what happened in the civil war
in Spain, 1935-1936. In the industrial town of Barcelona the workers having at
the revolt of the generals stormed the barracks and drawn the soldiers to their
side, were master of the town. Their armed groups dominated the street, main-
tained order, took care of the food provision, and, whilst the chief factories
were kept at work under the direction of their syndicalist unions, waged war
upon the fascist troops in adjoining provinces. Th.en their leaders entered into
the democratic government of the Catalan republic, consisting of middle-class
republicans allied with socialist and communist politicians. This meant that the
workers instead of fighting for their class had to join and to adjust themselves
to the common cause. Weakened by democratic illusions and inner dissensions
their resistance was crushed by armed troops of the Catalan government. And
soon, as a symbol of restored middle-class order, you could see as in olden
times workers' women, waiting before the bakers shops, brutalized by mount
ed police. The working class once more was down, the first step in the down-
fall of the republic, that finally led to the dictatorship of the military leaders.
In social crisis and political revolution, when a government breaks down,
power falls into the hands of the working masses; and for the propertied class,
for capitalism arises the problem how to wrest it out of their hands. So it was
in the past, so it may happen in the future. Democracy is the means, the appro-
priate instrument of persuasion. The arf:,'1lments of formal and legal quality
have to induce the workers to give up their power and to let their organization
be inserted as a subordinate part into the State structure.
THE FOE 137
Against this the workers have to carry in them a strong conviction that
council organization is a higher and more perfect form of equality. It realizes
social equality; it is the form of equality adapted to a society consciously dom-
inating production and life. It might be asked whether the tenn democracy fits
here, because the ending-'-cracy'-indicates domination by force, which here is
lacking. Though the individuals have to conform to the whole there is no gov-
ernment above the people; people itself is government. Council organization is
the very means by which working mankind, without need of a ruling govern-
ment, organizes its vital activities. Adhering, then, to the emotional value
attached of old to the word democracy we may say that council organization
represents the higher form of democracy, the true democracy of labor. Political
democracy, middle-class democracy, at its best can be no more than a formal
democracy; it gives the same legal rights to everybody, but does not care
whether this implies security of life; because economic life, because production
is not concerned. The worker has his equal right to sell his labor power; but he
is not certain that he will be able to sell it. Council democracy, on the contrary,
is actual democracy since it secures life to all collaborating producers, free and
masters of the sources of their life. The equal right in deciding needs not
to be secured by any fonnal regulating paragraph; it is realized in that the
work, in every part, is regulated by those who do the work. That parasites tak-
ing no part in production automatically exclude themselves from taking part in
the decisions, cannot be considered as a lack in democracy; not their person
but their function excludes them.
It is often said that in the modern world the point of dispute is between
democracy and dictatorship; and that the working class has to throw in its full
weight for democracy. The real meaning of this statement of contrast is that
capitalist opinion is divided whether capitalism better maintains its sway with
soft deceitful democracy, or with hard dictatorial constraint. It is the old prob-
lem of whether rebellious slaves are kept down better by kindness or by terror.
The slaves, if asked, of course prefer kind treatment to terror; but if they let
themselves be fooled so as to mistake soft slavery for freedom, it is pernicious
to the cause of their freedom. For the working class in the present time the real
issue is between council organization, the true democracy of labor, and the
apparent, deceitful middleclass democracy of formal rights. In proclaiming
council democracy the workers transfer the fight from political form to eco-
nomic eontents. Or rather-since politics is only form and means for economy-
for the sounding political slogan they substitute the revolutionizing political
deed, the seizure of the means of production. The slogan of political democra-
cy serves to detract the attention of the workers from their true goal. It must
be the concern of the workers, by putting up the principle of council organiza-
tion, of actual democracy of labor, to give true expression to the great issue
now moving society.
-'
138 WORKERS' COUNCILS
7. FASCISM
Fascism was the response of the capitalist world to the challenge of social-
ism. Socialism proclaimed world revolution that was to free the workers from
exploitation and suppression. Capitalism responds with a national revolution
curbing them, powerless, under heavier exploitation. The socialist working
class was confident that it could vanquish the middle-class order by making use
of the very middle-class right and law. The bourgeoisie responds by snapping
its fingers at right and law. The socialist workers spoke of planned and organ-
ized production to make an end of capitalism. The capitalists respond with an
organization of capitalism that makes it stronger than ever before. AU previous
years capitalism was on the defense, only able apparently to slacken the
advance of socialism. In fascism it consciously turns to attack.
The new political ideas and systems, for which from Italy the name Fascism
came into use, are the product of modern economic development. The growth
of big business, the increase in size of the enterprises, the subjection of small
business, the combination into concerns and trusts, the concentration of bank
capital and its domination over industry brought an increasing power into the
hands of a decreasing number of financial magnates and kings of industry.
World economy and society at large were dominated ever more by small
groups of mutually fighting big capitalists, sometimes successful stock jobbers,
sometimes pertinacious shrewd business tacticians, seldom restricted bv moral
scruples, always active sinewy men of energy.
At the end of the 19
th
century these economic changes brought about a cor-
responding change in the ideas. The doctrine of equality of man, inherited
from rising capitalism with its multitude of equal business men, gives way to
the doctrin.e of inequality. The worship of success and the admiration for the
strong personality-leading and treading down the ordinary people-distorted
in Nietzsche's "superman"-reflect the realities of new capitalism. The lords of
capital, risen to power through success in gambling and swindling, through the
min of numberless small existences, are nOw styled the "grand old men" of
their country. At the same time the "masses" ever more are spoken of with con-
tempt. In such utterances it is the down trodden petty bourgeoisie, dependent,
without social power and without aspirations, bent entirely on silly amuse-
ments-including the congenial working masses without class consciousness-
that serves as the prototype for the will-less, spiritless, characterless mass des-
tined to be led and commanded by strong leaders.
In politics the same line of thought appears in a departure from democracy.
Power over capital implies power over Government; direct power over
Government is vindicated as the natural right of the economic masters.
Parliaments evermore serve to mask, by a flood of oratory, the rule of big cap-
ital behind the semblance of self-detennination of the people. So the cant of the
politicians, the lack of inspiring principles, the petty bargaining behind the
THE :FOE 139
scenes, intensifies the conviction in critical observers not acquainted with the
deepest causes that parliamentarism is a pool of corruption and democracy a
chimera. And that also in politics the strong personality must prevail, as inde-
pendent ruler of the State.
Another effect of modern capitalism was the increasing spirit of violence.
Whereas in the rise of capitalism free trade, world peace and collaboration of
the peoples had occupied the minds, reality soon had brought war between
new and old capitalist Powers. The need of expansion in foreign continents
involves big capital into a fierce fight for world power and colonies. Now
forcible subjection, cruel extermination and barbarous exploitation of colored
races are defended by the doctrine of the superiority of the white race, destined
to dominate and to civilize them and justified in exploiting natural richness
wherever it may be. New ideals of splendor, power, world domination of the
own nation replace the old ideals of freedom, equality and world peace.
Humanitarianism is ridiculed as an obsolete effeminacy; force and violence
bring gTeatness.
Thus the spiritual elements of a new social and political system had silent-
ly grown up, visible everywhere in moods and opinions of the ruling class and
its spokesmen. To bring them to overt action and supremacy the strong con-
cussions of the world war with ensuing distress and chaos were necessary. It is
often said that fascism is the genuine political doctrine of big capitalism. This
is not true; America can show that its undisturbed sway is better secured
political democracy. If, however, in its upward struggle it falls short against a
stronger foe, or is threatened by a rebellious working class, more forcible and
violent modes of domination are needed. Fascism is the political system of big
capitalism in emergency. It is not created by conscious premeditation; it sprang
up, after much uncertain groping, as a practical deed, followed afterwards by
theory.
In Italy the post-war crisis and depression had brought discontent among
the bourgeoisie, disappointed in its national hopes; and had brought an
impulse to action among the workers, excited by the Russian and the German
revolutions. Strikes gave no relief, owing to soaring prices; the demand for
workers' control, inspired by syndicalist and bolshevist ideas, led to shop occu-
pation, not hindered by the weak and wavering government. It looked like a
revolution, but it was only a gesture. The workers, without clear insight or pur-
pose, did not know what to do with it. They tried, in vain, to produce for the
market as a kind of productive co-operation. After an arrangement of the trade
unions with the employers they peacefully cleared out.
But this was not the end. The bourgeoisie, terror-stricken for a moment,
attained in its deepest feelings, fuming revenge now that disdain succeeded fear,
organized its direct action. Bands of active pugnacious middle-class youths, fed
with strong nationalist teachings, full of instinctive hatred against the workers,
J
,
140 WORKERS' COUNCILS
their unions, their co-operatives, their socialism, encouraged by bourgeoisie
and land-owners providing money for arms and uniforms, began a campaign
of terrorism. They destroyed workers' meeting rooms, ill-treated labor leaders,
sacked and burnt co-operatives and newspaper offices, attacked meetings, first
in the smaller places, gradually in the bigger towns. The workers had no means
of efficient response; wont to peaceful organizing work under the protection of
law, addicted to parliamentarism and trade union fight, they were powerless
against the new forms of violence.
Soon the fascist groups combined into stronger organization, the fascist
party, its ranks ever more joined by energetic youths from the bourgeoisie and
the intellectuals. Here, indeed, these classes saw a rescue from the impending
threat of socialism. Now the riots grew into a systematic destruction and anni-
hilation of everything the workers had built up, the ill-treatment grew into
unpunished murder of prominent socialists. When at last the liberal ministers
made some hesitating attempts to suppress the outrages they were turned out,
on the menace of civil war, and the leaders of fascism, appointed in their place,
became masters of the State. An active organized minority had imposed its will
upon the passive majority. It was not a revolution; the same ruling class per-
sisted; but this class had got new managers of its interests, proclaiming new
political principles.
Now fascist theory, too, was formulated. Authority and obedience are the
fundamental ideas. Not the good of the citizens but the good of the State is the
highest aim. The State, embodying the community, stands above the entirety
of the citizens. It is a supreme being, not deriving its authority from the will of
the citizens, but from its own right. Government, hence, is no democracy, but
dictatorship. Above the subjects stand the bearers of authority, the strong men,
and uppermost the-formally at least-alI-powerful dictator, the Leader.
Only in outer forms does this dictatorship resemble the ancient Asiatic
despotisms over agrarian peoples or the absolutism in Europe some centuries
ago. These primitive monarchial governments, with a minimum of organiza-
tion, soon stood powerless over against the rising social power of capitalism.
The new despotism, product of highly developed capitalism, disposes of all the
power of the bourgeoisie, all the refined methods of modern technics and
organization. It is progress, not regress; it is not return to the old rough bar-
barism but advance to a higher more refined barbarism. It looks like regression
because capitalism, that during its ascent evoked the illusion of the dawn of
humanity, now strikes out like a cornered wolf.
A special characteristic of the new political system is the Party as support
and fighting force of dictatorship. Like its predecessor and example, the
Communist Party in Russia, it forms the bodyguard of the new Government.
It canle up, independent from and even against Government, out of the inner
forces of society, conquered the State, and fused with it into one organ of dom-
THE FOE 141
ination. It consists chiefly of petty-bourgeois elements, with more roughness
and less culture and restraint than the bourgeoisie itself, with fell desire to
climb to higher positions, full of nationalism and of class hatred against the
workers. Out of the equable mass of citizens they come to the front as an
organized group of combative fanatical volunteers, ready for any violence, in
military discipline obeying the leaders. When the leaders are made masters
over the State they are made a special organ of Government, endowed with spe-
cial rights and privileges. They do what lies outside the duties of the officials,
they do the dirty work of persecution and vengeance, they are secret police,
spies and organ of propaganda at the same time. As a devoted semi-official
power with undefined competencies they permeate the population; only by
their terrorism dictatorship is possible.
At the same time, as counterpart, the citizens are entirely powerless; they
do not influence government. Parliaments may be convoked, but only to listen
and applaud to speeches and declarations of the leaders, not to discuss and
decide. All decisions are taken in the set assemblies of party chiefs. Surely this
was usually the case under parliamentarism also; but then secretly, and pub-
denied and always there was control by party strife and public criticism.
These have disappeared now. Other parties than the One are forbidden, their
former leaders have fled. All newspapers are in the hands of the Party; all pub-
licity is under its control; free speech is abolished. The former source of power
of Parliament, its financial control of Government by voting or refusing money,
has gone, too. Government disposes at its will over all State revenues without
rendering account; it can spend unknown and unlimited sums of money for
party purposes, for propaganda or anything else.
State power now takes up the care for economic life, making it at the same
time subservient to its own purposes. In a country where capitalism is still in
its development, this means collaboration with big capital, not as in former
times in secret, but as a normal duty. Big enterprise is furthered by subsidies
and orders; public services are actuated for business life, the old laziness dis-
appears, and foreign tourists in praise of the new order relate that the trains
conform to schedule. Small enterprise is organized in "corporations" where
employers and directors collaborate with controlling State officials.
"Corporatism" is put up as the character of the new order against parliamen-
tarism; instead of deceitful talk of incompetent politicians comes tlle expert dis-
cussion and advice of the practical business man. Thus labor is acknowledged
as the basis of society: capitalist labor, of course.
The fascist State through its regulations strengthens tlle economic power of
big capital over small business. The economic means of big capital to impose
its will are never entirely adequate; in a free State ever again small competitors
come up, take a stand against the big ones, refuse to conform to agreements,
and disturb the auiet exploitation of customers. Under fascism, however, they
142 WORKERS' COUNCILS
have to submit to the regulations established in the corporations according to
the most influential interests and given legal validity by decree of government.
Thus the entire economic life is subjected more thoroughly to big capital.
At the same time the working class is made powerless. Classwar, of course,
is "abolished." In the shop all are collaborating now as comrades in the service
of the community; the former director, too, has been turned into a worker and
a cOIlli'ade; but as he is the leader, clad with authority, his commands must be
obeyed by the other workers. Trade unions, being organs of fight, of course are
forbidden. The workers are not allowed tofight for their interests; State power
takes care of them, and to the State authorities they have to bring forward their
complaints - usually neutralized by the greater personal influence of the
employers. So a lowering of working conditions and standard of life was
unavoidable. As a compensation the workers, now assembled in fascist organ-
izations with Party members as designated dictatorial leaders, were regaled
with brilliant speeches on the eminence labor, now for the first time acknowl-
edged in its worth. For capital times were good now, times of strong develop-
ment and high profits, notwithstanding the often troublesome control of igno-
rant fascist officials demanding their share. Capitalists of other countries visit-
ed with troubles and strikes, looked with envy at the industrial peace in Italy.
More consciously than elsewhere nationalism uprises as the all dominating
ideology, because it affords a basis to theory and practice of State onmipotence.
The State is the embodiment, the organ of the nation; its aim the greatness of
the nation. For the raising of the power needed in the world fight of capitalism
fascism in many points is superior to other political systems. With all the forces
of State-paid propaganda national feelings and pride are aroused; the ancient
Romans are exalted as the great ancestors, the Emperor Augustus is celebrated
as the great Italian, the Mediterranean is called "our sea," the glory of ancient
Rome has to be restored. At the same time military power is built up; war
industry is promoted and subsidized; for armanlents Government through lack
of any public control can secredy spend as much money as it wants. The Italian
Government and bourgeoisie grew boastful and aggressive. They wanted their
country not to be admired as a museum of ancient art any more, but respect-
ed as a modern country of factories and guns.
For many years Italy was the only European country, besides Russia, that
had a dictatorial government. So it might seem a rcsult of special chance con-
ditions there. Then, however, other countries followed. In Portugal, after many
bickerings between parties in Parliament and military officers, the generals
seized power, but felt incapable of solving the many economic difficulties. So
they appointed a well known fascist-minded professor of economy to act as dic-
tator under dIe natlle of prime minister. He introduced corporatism to take the
place of parliatllentarism, and was much praised for the undisturbed firmness
of his reign. The petty-capitalist stage of development in this country is shown
THE FOE 143
in dlat his most praised reform was economizing in finance by cutting dIe gov-
ernment expenses.
It seems a contradiction that fascism, a product of big capitalism should
happen to rule in backward countries, whereas dIe countries of biggest capital-
ism reject it. The latter fact is easily explained, because democratic parliamen-
tarism is the best camouflage for its sway. A system of government is not con-
nected automatically with a system of economy. The economic system deter-
mines the ideas, the wishes, the aims; and then people with these aims in mind
adjust their political system according to their needs and possibilities. The ideas
of dictatorship, of the sway of some few strong individuals, countered by odIer
strong social forces in countries where big capital reigns, in distant regions also
strike dle mind where big capitalism is no more than aspiration of future devel-
opment.
In backward countries, when capitalism begins to come up and to stir the
minds, the political forms of advanced countries are initiated. Thus in the sec-
ond part of the 19
th
century parliatllentarism held its triumphal course through
dIe world, in the Balkans, in Turkey, in the East, in South America, though
sometimes is parody forms. Behind such parliatllents stood no strong bour-
geoisie to use them as its organ; the population consisted in large landowners
and small farmers, artisans, petty dealers, with chiefly local interest.
Parliaments were dominated by jobbers euriching themselves through monop-
olies, by lawyers and generals ruling as ministers and bestowing well-paid
offices on their friends, by intellectuals making business out of their member-
ship, by agents of foreign capital preying upon the richness of timber and ore.
A dirty scene of corruption showing that parliamentarism did not sprout
from sound and natural roots here.
Such new countries cannot repeat the gradual line of development of the
old capitalist countries in first ascent. They can and must introduce highly
developed technics at once: on their precapitalist conditions they must implant
industry directly; acting capital is big capitaL So it is not strange that dIe
political forms generated by petty capitalism in Europe do not fit here. There
parliamentarism was firmly rooted in the consciousness of the citizens and had
time gradually to adapt itself to the new conditions. Here, at the outskirts, the
fascist ideas of dictatorship could fmd adherence, since the practice of politics
was already conforming to it. Landowners and tribe chieftains easily convert
their old power into modern dictatorial forms; new capitalist interests can work
better with some few mighty men than widI a host of greedy parliamentarians.
So the spiritual influences of big world capital find a fertile field in dIe political
ideas of rulers and intellectuals all over the world.
J
144 WORKERS' COUNCILS
8. NATIONAL SOCIALISM
Far more important are the forms of fascism presented by the most strong-
ly developed country of capitalist Europe. After having lost the first world war
and after being pressed down to entire powerlessness, Germany through fas-
cism was enabled to prepare for a second, more formidable attempt at world
power.
In the post-war years of misery and humiliation the gradually assembling
nationalist youth felt by instinct that its future depended on organization of
power. Among the many competing organizations the National Socialist Party
crystallized as the group with the greatest growing faculty, and afterwards
absorbed the others. It prevailed by having an economic program, sharply
anti-capitalist-hence denoted socialist-fit to attract the petty bourgeoisie, the
farmers and part of the workers. Directed of course against capital such as
these classes know it as their suppressor, the usury capital, the real estate banks,
the big warehouses, especially againstJewish capital therefore. Its anti-semitism
expressed the feelings of these classes as well as of the academic circles who felt
threatened byJewish competition now that the republic had given equal civil
rights. Its acute nationalism gave expression to the feelings of the entire bour-
geoisie, by sharply protesting against Germany's humiliation, by denouncing
Versailles, and by the call to fight for new power, for new national greatness.
When then the great crisis of 1930 reduced the middle class masses to a panic
fright, when these, through their millions of votes, made national socialism a
powerful party, German big capital saw its chance. It gave money for an over-
whelming propaganda that soon beat the wavering liberal and socialist politi-
cians out of the field, made national socialism the strongest party and its leader
chief of the government.
Unlike other parties in government its first provisions were to make sure
that it never should loose its government power. By excluding the Communist
Party as criminals from the Reichstag and affiliating the lesser nationalist
groups it secured a majority to start with. All important government and police
offices were filled by party members; the communist fighting groups were sup-
pressed, the nationalist ones were privileged. Protected by the authorities the
latter, by deeds of violence, with impunity could spread so much terror that
every idea of resistance was quelled in the people. The daily press first was
muzzled, then gradually captured and "equalized" into organs of national
socialism. Socialist and democratic spokesmen had to flee to other countries;
the widely spread socialist and the not less hated pacifist literature was collect-
ed in violent searches and solemnly burned. From the first days began the per-
secutions of theJews, that gradually became more cruel, and last proclaimed as
their aim the extermination of the entire Jewish race. As a heavy steel armor
the dictatorship of a resolute, well-organized minority closed around German
THE FOE 145
society, to enable German capital as a well-armored giant to take up again the
fight for world power.
All political practice and all social ideas of national socialism have their
basis in the character of its economic system. Its foundation is organization of
capitalism. Such among the first adherents who insisted upon the old anti-cap-
italist program were of eourse soon dismissed and destroyed. The new meas-
ures of state control over capital were now explained as the formerly promised
subjection and destruction of capitalist power. Government decrees restricted
capital in its freedom of action. Central government offices controlled the sale
of products as well as the procuring of raw materials. Government gave pre-
scripts for the spending of profits, for the amount of dividends allowed, for the
reserves to be made for new investments, and for the share it required for its
own purposes. That all these measures were not directed against capitalism
itself, but only against the arbitrary freedom of capital dispersed over numer-
ous small holders, is shown by the fact that herein Government was continual-
ly guided by the advice of big capitalists and bankers outside the party, as a
more resolute sequel of what had been started already in collaboration with
former less daring governments. It was an organization imposed by the condi-
tion of German capitalism, the only means to restore it to power.
Under capitalism capital is master; capital is money claiming the surplus
value produced by labor. Labor is the basis of society, but money, gold, is its
master. Political economy deals with capital and money as the directing powers
of society. So it had been in Germany, as anywhere. But German capital was
defeated, exhausted, ruined. It was not lost; it had maintained itself as master
of the mines, the factories, of society, of labor. But the money had gone. The
war reparations pressed as a heavy debt, and prevented rapid accumulation of
new capital. German labor was tributary to the victors, and through them to
America. Since America had secluded itself from the imports of goods it had to
be laid in gold; gold disappeared from Europe and choked America, pushing
both into a world crisis.
The German "revolution" of 1933-proudly called so by national social-
ism-was the revolt of German against American capital, against the rule of
gold, against the gold form of capital. It was the recognition that labor is the
basis of capital, that capital is mastery over labor, and that, hence, gold is not
necessary. The real conditions for capitalism, a numerous intelligent and skilled
working class and a high stage of technics and science, were present. So it repu-
diated the tribute, rejected the claims of foreign gold, and organized capitalist
production on the basis of goods and labor. Thus, for the use of internal prop-
aganda, always again it could speak of fight against capital and capitalism; for
capital was money, was gold that reigned in America, in England, in France, as
it had reigned formerly in Germany. The separating cleft, in this line of
thought, gaped between the gambling and exploiting usurers and money capi-
146 WORKERS' COUNCILS
talists on the one and the hard toiling workers and employers on the other
side.
Under free capitalism the surplus value growing everywhere out of pro-
duction piles up in the banks, looks out for new profits, and is invested by its
owner or by the bank in new or in existing enterprises. Since in Germany
money was scarce State government had to provide the means for founding
new necessary enterprises. 111at could be done only by seizing the profits of all
enterprises for this purpose, after allowance of a certain dividend for the share-
holders. So it established itself as the central leader of economy. In the emer-
gency of German capitalism the spending of capital could not be left to the will
and whim of private capitalists, for luxury, for gambling or foreign investment.
With strict economy all means must be used for reconstruction of the economic
system. Every enterprise now depends on the credit assigned by the State and
stands under continuous control of the State. The State for this purpose has its
economic offices of experts, in which the leaders of the big enterprises and con-
cerns by their advice are dominating. This means a complete domination of
monopolist capital over the smaller capitalists in a system of planned economy.
Conscious organization has replaced the automatism of gold.
Germany, though striving after autarchy, could not exist without importing
raw materials from outside, paying for them, because it had no money, by
exports of its own products. Hence commerce could not be left to the arbi-
trariness of private dealers, to the wish of the public for superfluous or foreign
fancies. When all sales shall serve the necessary reconstrnction Government
has to supervise foreign commerce by rigid prescripts, or take it in its own
hand. It controls and limits every transfer of money across the frontiers, even
tourist travels; all drafts on foreign debtors must be delivered. The State itself
takes up large-scale commerce, purchase as well as sale. The great difficulty of
the old economic system, the transition of commodities into gold, the selling of
the goods, the primary cause of so much faltering and crisis, is thereby auto
matically solved at the same time. The State, as universal dealer, is able in
every purchase contract to stipulate that the same value of its product shall be
bought, so that no money is needed. Or expressed in another way: in selling
its goods it asks to be paid not in money but in kind, in other goods: German
machines against Hungarian wheat or Roumanian oil. Gold is eliminated from
business by direct barter of goods.
But now barter on a gigantic scale, of the produce and needs of entire coun-
tries at once. Private dealers in the other countries seldom have such monopo-
lies as are needed here; moreover such big transactions, especially of materials
serviceable to war have political consequences. Hence the foreign governments
have to step in. If they were not yet adapted to such economic functions they
now adapt themselves; they take in hand the disposal over the products, and in
their tum go to regulating commerce and industry. Thus State control in a
THE FOE 147
country leads to state control in other countries. A new system of economy, the
system of direct barter of goods, is introduced into intemational commerce. It
is especially attractive to the rising countries that are purveyors of raw materi-
als. They now get their machines and canons, without in Paris and London
contracting heavy loans that would bring there into fmancial dependence. Thus
German economic expansion is custing English and French capital from those
countries; and it is accompanied by political expansion. With the new eco-
nomic system the ruling classes there adopt the new political ideas, the fascist
system of government, that increases their power at home and better fits their
needs than an imitation of parliamentarism. Politically they were drawn nearer
to Gernlany. Thus what at first, according to old economic ideas, looked a par-
alyzing weakness, the lack of gold, was now turned into a source of new force.
German capitalism saw a new road opened towards resurrection and power.
This could not but have an enormous influence upon the ideas and feelings of
the bourgeoisie, especially upon the capitalist and intellectual youth. It had
experienced the poverty and dejection in the post-war years, the desperation
and impotence under the Weimar republic; now again it saw a future full of
hope. When a class, from pressure and dependence, sees looming up a future
of greatness with as yet unlimited possibilities, enthusiasm and energy are
awakened; it clothes the coming world with the garb of exalted ideologies
inspiriting the minds. Thus national socialism speaks of its conquest of power
as a grand social, political and spiritual revolution, far surpassing all previous
ones, a revolution that ends capitalism, establishes socialism and cOlmnunity,
one destined to renovate society for thousands of years.
What really happened was only a structural change of capitalism, the tran-
sition from free to planned capitalism. Yet this change is important enough to
be felt as the beginning of a new grand epoch. Human progress always con-
sisted in the replacing of instinctive action, of chance and custom by deliberate
planning. In technics science had already replaced tradition. Economy, howev-
er, the social entirety of production, was left to the chance of personal guessing
of unknown market conditions. Hence wasted labor, destructive competition,
bankruptcy, crisis and unemployment. Planned economy tries to bring order,
to regulate production according to the needs of consumption. The transition
of free capitalism to capitalism directed by State-dictatorship means, funda-
mentally, the end of the pitiless fight of all against all, in which the weak were
succumbing. It means that everybody will have his place assigned, an assured
existence, and that unemployment, the scourge of the working class, disappears
as a stupid spilling of valuable labor power.
This new condition finds its spiritual expression in the slogan of communi-
ty. In the old system everybody had to fight for himself, only guided by ego-
tism. Now that production is organized into a centrally directed unity, every-
body knows that his work is part of the whole, that he is working for the
148 WORKERS' COUNCILS
national community. Where loss of old liberty might evoke resentment as
intense propaganda accentuates the service of the community as the high moral
principle of the new world. It is adequate to carry away especially young peo-
ple into devoted adherence. Moreover the anti-capitalist fiction of the exclusion
of the gold, by persistent propaganda is hammered into the minds as the new
reign of labor. Community and labor find their common expression in the
name socialism.
This socialism is national socialism. Nationalism, the mightiest ideology of
the bourgeoisie, stands over all other ideas as the master they have to serve.
The conununity is the nation, it comprises only the fellow people, labor is serv-
ice of the own people. This is the new, the better socialism, entirely opposed to
the international socialism ofJewish Marxism that by its doctrine of class war
tore the national unity asunder. It had made the German people powerless;
national socialism makes the national community a mighty unbreakable unity.
For national socialist doctrine the nations are the entities constituting
mankind. 'The nations have to fight for their place on earth, their "living
space"; history shows an almost uninterrupted series of wars in which strong
peoples exterminated, drove out or subjected the weaker ones. 'Thus it was and
thus it will be. War is the natural condition of mankind, peace is nothing but
preparation of future war. So the first duty of every people is to make itself
powerful against others; it has to choose between victory or downfall.
Internationalism and pacifism are bloodless abstractions, yet dangerous
because they are sapping the strength of the people.
The first aim of national socialism was to make a powerful unity of all
German-speaking people. Through adversity of historical development it had
been divided into a number of separate states, only incompletely united in
Bismarck's former Reich-the Austrian part remaining an independent state-
moreover mutilated by the victors of 1918. The call for national unity met with
a wide response in the feelings, even of such isolated groups as the Gemlan set-
tlers in Transylvania or in America. In consequence of the interlacing of living
sites of different races, as well as by economic connections, the principle of
political unity of course encounters many difficulties. The German-speaking
town of Danzig, was the natural harbor for the surrounding Polish hinterland.
'The Czecho-Slovak State as a Slavonic protrusion separated the Northern and
the Austrian Germans, and included on the inner slopes of the frontier ridges
[Sudetes] an industrious German population. Under capitalism such abnormal
cases are not solved by any fair principle of equable dealing, but by power
against power. So they were the direct motives that gave rise to the present
world war.
From the first day preparation for war was the leading thought of national
socialism, the goal of all its measures. For this purpose industry was supervised
and regnlated by the State, for this purpose private profits and dividends were
THE FOE 149
cut down, for this purpose the investment of capital and the founding of new
enterprises was reserved to Government cconomic offices. All surplus value
beyond a certain profit rate for the shareholders is taken by the State for its
needs; these needs are the supremc common intercst of the entire bourgeoisie.
In old capitalism the State had to procure money for its needs by taxation,
sometimes by the cunning method of unfair indirect taxes; or, if by direct taxes,
conceded grudgingly and under suspicious control by thc propertier citizcns,
and considered as an unrighteous incursion upon their personal expenditure.
Now this is all changed. The State by its own right takcs what it wants direct-
ly at the source, the chief part of the surplus value, and to the capitalist own-
ers it leaves some remnant fixed at its own discretion. No more the State has to
beg from thc masters of thc means of production; it is itself master now and
they are the recipients. An enormous increase of financial power comparcd
with other States; but indispensable for success in the world fight. And again
national socialism in in this way shows off before the people's masses as the
power that curbs capital, by enforcing it to deliver the main part of its profit to
the common weal, to the community.
Moreover the State is direct master of production. In the old capitalism,
when the State had with difficulty extorted money for expenses from
Parliament, or borrowed it under fat provisions from the bankers, it had to
spend it on the monopolistic private arms industry. 111ese concerns, interna-
tionally cOllilccted, though thcy paraded as national firms, Krupp in Essen,
Schneider in Le Creusot, Armstrong in England, not only took their big prof-
its, but without conscientious scruples impartially supplied enemies and allies
with the most perfect and newest inventions. It looked as if war were a puerile
play of politicians to fatten some few armament capitalists. To national social-
ism, however, war is the most serious affair, for which an unlimited part of the
entire industrial apparatus can be used. Government decides what big portion
of the total steel and chemical industry shall serve for armaments. It simply
orders the factories to be built, it organizes science and technics to invent and
try new and better weapons, it combines the functions of military officer, engi-
neer, and inventor, and makes war science [Wehrwissenschaft] the object of spe-
cial training. Armored cars, dive bombers, big submarines with ever more per-
fect installations, rapid torpedo boats, rockets, all of new construction, can be
built in secret. No information reaches the enemy, no sensational daily press
can publish any notice, no parliament mcmbers can ask information, no criti-
cism has to be encountered. Thus the arms are heaped up during years of
feverish war preparation till the moment of attack has arrived.
In old capitalism war was a possibility, avoided as long as possible, or at
least disclaimed, a war of defense mostly on the part of the old satisfied Powers.
The new upgrowing powers, aggressive because they have to conquer their
share in the world, have a positive aim that strains the energy much more
150 WORKERS' COUNCILS
intensely than does the negative aim of mere passive defense of existing condi-
tions. They are "dynamic"; in military tactics this character is represented in
the irresistible impulse of the well prepared mass offensive.
Thus German capitalism, by installing a national socialist government com-
pletely dominating the entire economic life, provided itself with an incompara-
ble war machine. The question may by posed, however, whether it did not
shoot past the aim. In striving for power over the world, did it not lose its mas-
tery at horne? Could the German bourgeoisie still be called the ruling class?
German state control is no state socialism. The State is not, as it is in
Russia, owner of the means of production. In Russia the bureaucracy of State
officials collectively owns the industrial apparatus; it is the ruling and exploit-
ing class, appropriating the surplus value. In Germany there is a numerous
bourgeoisie, directors of enterprises, free employers, officials, shareholders;
they are the owners of the means of production living on surplus value. But
now the two functions of the shareholder are separated; the right of disposal is
detached from ownership. Under big capitalism the right of disposal is the most
important function of capitalist ownership; we see it in America in the holding
companies. Then the owner in his character of exploiter only retains the func-
tion of receiving part of the profits. In Germany Government took for itself the
right of disposal, the right to manipulate with capital, to direct production, to
increase the productivity and to distribute the profits. For the mass of dle bour-
geoisie there remained the detailed work of directing their enterprises and gam-
bling with the shares. Since production and import both are determined by the
State, private dividends could not be spent in another way other than by buy-
ing industrial shares, by returning the profits as new capital into State-con-
trolled industry.
Thus big capital retained power. Surely its expectation when it put nation-
al socialism at the head of the State, of finding obedient servants, was disap-
pointed; the old masters of industry and banks had to share their power with
the new masters of the State, who not only partook in the directing but also in
the pocketing. Big capital in Germany had not yet taken the American form of
an unassailable property of some farnilies; capable men of daring from any-
where could rise to the leadership of big concerus. Now they had to share their
leading power with other men of daring risen to power by way of politics and
party fight. In the economic offices the leaders of big business meet with the
political leaders in the common task of regulating production. The dividing line
between private capitalists and State officials disappears in the coalescing of
functions. Together they are master of the State and of the means of produc-
tion.
With the deep changes in economic and political conditions a new state of
mind pervaded the German people. The mutual connection and dependence
became stronger, gradations of value and rank were felt, the authority of lead-
THE FOE 151
ers, the obedience of the masses imposed themselves; consciousness of subor-
dination in large entities accompanies planned economy. And above all, in the
entire middle class there is a strained nationalism, a passionate will to fight for
world power. Though growing spontaneously out of the new conditions this
new spirit was not left to develop freely; for in that case opposite ideas and
forces would arise at the same time. It was the object of an intense one-sided
propaganda. To make these feelings a spiritual force binding the entire nation
into a fighting unity, they were fostered and developed by special means.
Propaganda and education were made the task of a separate State department,
endowed widl unlimited financial means. All usable forces of publicity, of sci-
ence, literature and art were set to work systematically to cram the national
socialist ideas into all the heads, with exclusion all deviating spiritual influ-
ences.
This implied a complete spiritual despotism. Whereas under former sys-
tems of despotism the daily press was only muzzled or harassed by a stupid
censorship, often outwitted by the wits of editors, now the entire press was
annexed by the Party and provided with party members as editors. The
national socialist State was not only master of the material life of man, it was
also master of the spiritual life, by means of the Party. No books or writings
expressing deviating opinions could be published; foreign publications were
carefully controlled before being admitted. Secret printing of independent or
opposite opinions was not only punished severely as capital crime, but also ren-
dered difficult by State control of all materials. It is intellectual cowardice that
shuns dispute on equal terms and dares to attack and insult the adversary only
after he has been fettered and muzzled. But it was efficient; the party press was
able, without compensation, day by day to force upon the readers not only its
doctrine but also its biased representation or misrepresentation of facts and
happenings, or to omit them entirely. Notwithstanding all preconceived distrust
of one-sided information, the ever repeated, never contradicted views, so well
confirmed by the facts presented, must in the long run take hold of the minds.
The more so as they were presented as part and result of an attractive doctrine,
the ideology of community and labor: the end of selfishness and exploitation,
the new reign of devotion to the people's weal, regulated work and prosperity
for all, the common exertion for the greatness and the future of the nation, with
severe punishment of course for all its enemies.
At the same time all verbal intercourse was strictly controlled. The party
everywhere had its members and adherents, in the offices, in the shops, all
inspired with the moral duty to denounce for punishment, as enemies of the
community, all who expressed other opinions, ventured criticism, or spread
rumors. Thus no opposition could form, except in the extreme secrecy of
insignificant groups; everywhere a feeling of utter powerlessness prevailed.
152 WORKERS' COUNCILS
11ms, compared with the ancient forms of despotic rule, modern capitalism
showed an enormous progress of efficicncy in the technics of suppression.
Whether we take the English Tory Government in the beginning of the
century, that had no police force, or the Prussian absolutism of Russian
Czarism in later times, with their primitive barbarous cruelty, they all present
the spectacle of stupid helplessness, normal for a government living far from
the people. In the English courts editors and authors made a tough fight for
reform and freedom of press, applauded by the people when they went to gaol.
The Czarist gaolers often could not conceal their respect for the revolutionar-
ies as representatives of superior culture. Repeatedly Prussian police, trapped
by the better organization of the socialist workers, had to suffer exhibition as
simpletons before the courts.
Now that was allover. The new despotism was equipped with all the
engines of the modern State. All force and energy that capitalism evokes is
combined with the most thorough-going tyranny that big capital needs in order
to uphold its supremacy. No tribunal to do justice to the subject against the
State. The judges are Party members, agents of the State, dismissed if they are
soft, bound to no statute book, administering justice after decrees from above.
Law suits are public only when needed for propaganda, to intimidate others;
and then the papers bring only what the judge deems adequate. The police
consist of strictly organized and disciplined ruffians provided with all weapons
and methods to beat down the "Volksgenossen." Secret police again were all
powerful, were more capable that it was in olden times. No law secured any-
body from being put in gaol, for unlimited time, without trial. The concentra-
tion camp, formerly invented as a war measure against guerrillas, now was
installed as a form of mass-prison with hard labor, often accompanied by sys
tematic cruelties. No personal dignity was respected; it did not exist any more.
Where petty bourgeois coarseness, turned into perverse abuse of unlimited
power, was provided with all the inventiveness of modern capitalism, cruelty
against the victims did not reach a pitch rivaling the worst barbarousness of
former centuries. Cruelty as a rule is a consequence of fear, experienced in the
past or felt for the future, thus betraying what is hidden in subconsciousness.
But for the moment all adversaries were made powerless, silenced and intimi-
dated.
Spiritual tyralmy was supplemented by incessant propaganda, especially
adapted to the younger generation. The rulers know quite well that they can
win over only few of the older generation of workers who, grown up in
the nobler ideas Social Democracy, preserved these as a precious remem-
brance, though bereft of practical use. Only for the younger adults who expe-
rienced Social Democracy in its decline, as ruling party, the propaganda could
be effective. But it was the growing youth which it did itself educate and shape,
that national socialism placed its hope as material for its new world.
THE FOE 153
It cannot surprise that it met with great success. As no party or group
before it concerned itself with youth. National socialism appointed able leaders
well versed in modern psychology, disposing of ample financial means, who,
with entire devotion assembled and educated the youth in an all-embracing
organization. All the innate feelings of comradeship, of mutual aid, of attach-
ment, of activity, of ambition could develop in young people. They were fllied
with the self-confidence of being an important part of the national community
vvith an important task of their own. Not to win a good position for oneself, the
highest ideal of the youngsters in capitalist society, but to serve and forward the
national community. The boys had to feel future fighters, preparing for great
deeds, not by learned studies but by vigour, pluck, fighting capacity and disci-
pline. The girls had to prepare for the future of being heroic German mothers;
increase of population, as rapid as possible, was a condition for strength in the
world fight.
With ardor the children imbibed the new teachings that far outweighed the
spiritual influence of their parents and teachers. Against these they acted as fer-
vent champions and spokesmen of the new creed, especially educated for that
task. Not simply to extend the propaganda into home and school, but still more
to report to their new leaders home disputes and controversies. Hence to act as
spies and denuciators of their own parents, who under the threat of severe pun-
ishment had to abstain from ,my attempt to educate their children in their own
spirit. The children belonged to the State, not to the parents. Thus for the
future war an army of missions was prepared unrivaled for enthusiasm and
devotion. Such an education implies careful protection against any opposite
influence that could evoke doubts, uncertainties and inner conflicts. Doubts
and inner conflicts, to be sure, produce strong characters, independent
thinkers; but for such national socialism had no use. What it needed, and what
it tried to rear by one-sided teaching of the one sole truth, was blind faith and,
based thereon, fanatical devotion, expedient for irresistible assault.
The strength of national socialism lay in its organization of the material pro-
duction, of physical forces. Its weakness lay in its attempt to uniformize the
mentalities, the intellectual forces, in both caseS by brutal constraint. Most of
its adherents and spokesmen came from the lower middle class, rough, igno-
rant, narrow-minded, desirous to win a higher position, full of prejudices, eas-
addicted to brutality. They came to power not through intellectual but
through physical and organizational superiority, by daring and combativeness.
They imposed their spirit of violence upon the dominated intellectuals and
workers. Thus respect for brute strength, contempt for science and knowledge
was bred in the upgrowing generation; for the ambitious, instead of painful
patient study, an easier way to high positions led through party service that
demanded no knowledge but only sturdy drilling, physical training, rough
force and discipline.
154 WORKERS' COUNCILS
German big capitalism, however, cannot develop without science is the
basis of technical progress, and without an intellectual class with important
functions, economic and social. Furthering and encouragement of science is a
life interest for capital. Its new political system brought it into contradiction not
only with humanity and culture, but also with its own spiritual basis. To
uphold its dominance it suffered to decay what constituted its force and justifi-
cation. This will avenge itself when in the contest of capitalisms for world
power dIe highest perfection in technics is imperative, and its neglect cannot be
made good by physical constraint. The great scientific and technical capacities
of the German people, of its engineers, its scientists, its workers, who brought
it to the front of industrial progress, were chained to the war chariot of big cap-
italism and, enhancing its fighting strength, were wasted and spoilt in this
bondage.
National socialism, moreover, tried to impose its very theory upon science,
in giving to nationalism the theoretical expression of the racial doctrine. Always
German nationalism had taken the form of worship of the ancient Teutons
whose virtues as a mirror for the effeminate Romans had been exalted by
Tacitus. German authors had exposed the theory of the "Nordic" race, superi-
or to other races and destined to dominate them, and nowadays represented by
the Germans and some adjacent peoples. This theory was then blended with
anti-semitism. The special capacities of the Jews for commerce and money deal-
ing, for medicine and jurisprudence had, half a century ago already, aroused
strong anti-semitic feelings among the petty bourgeoisie and in academic cir-
cles. Neither among the great bourgeoisie, that by its mastery of the industrial
surplus value was any fear ofJewish finance, nor among the working class had
they any importance. Anti-semitism was a sentiment of the lower middle class;
but most adherents of national socialism came ii-om these very circles. Jewish
immigration from dIe East after the first world war) introducing its primitive
trade methods of barter, and the appointing ofJews in political offices in the
Weimar republic intensified the hatred and made anti-semitism the main creed
of the most influential new leaders.
Thus racial theory became dIe central doctrine of national socialism. Real
Germans were not all the German-speaking inhabitants of Germany, but only
the "Aryans"-the same held good for surrounding peoples as the
Scandinavians and the Dutch; the English were too much corrupted already by
capitalism. The non-Aryan cohabitants, theJews, had no rights; the allowance
to settle they misused by assembling capital and by robbing and insolently sup-
pressing the Aryans. So dley were expropriated and the persecutions gradual-
ly increased to rough abuse and deliberate extermination.
National socialism by means of its political power forced this racial theory
upon science. It appointed the spokesmen of the doctrine as university profes-
sors) and profusely procured funds for publishing books and periodicals for its
THE FOE 155
vindication. That the amount of scientific trudl in it is extremely meagre could
be no hindrance. Capitalism in power always elevates to official science the
doctrines that serve its purposes; they dominate the universities everywhere;
but criticism and opposite opinions have the possibility to express themselves,
albeit not from official chairs. Under national socialism, however, all critical
discussion of the official doctrine was made impossible.
Still more grotesque was the extension of the racial theory to physics. In
physics Einstein's theory of relativity was considered by almost the entirety of
physicists as a most important progress of science) basis of numerous new
developments. But Einstein was a Jew, and so anti-semitism took a stand
against dlis theory. When national socialism carne to power dIe Jewish profes-
sors, men of world fame often) were dismissed and expelled; the anti-Semitic
opponents of relativity were hailed as the genial spokesmen of "German
physics)" the expression of sound and simple Aryan intelligence, against
'Jewish physics," consisting in crooked theories contrived by Tllimudian dis-
tortion of thought. It is easily seen that that "sound Aryan intelligence" is noth-
ing but the simple-mindedness of petty burgher thought inaccessible to the
deeper abstractions of modern science.
In the fight of German capitalism for world power anti-selnitism was not
needed, was rather a disadvantage. But it had no choice. Since dle bourgeoisie
had not dared to join the people's fight) 1848, to win domination) it had to sur-
render to the lead of other classes. First of the landed aristocracy with the
Kaiser, who, by their stupid diplomacy) were responsible for the defeat in the
fIrst world war. Now of the petty burgher party and its leaders, who made this
fad the basis of a policy that by evoking scorn and intense hatred allover the
world, prepared for a new defeat.
From the beginning national socialism gave special attention to the farmers.
The platform of any petty burgher party spoke of ridding the farmers from
exploitation by mortgage and banking capital. Moreover, for dle impending
war it was imperative that Germany should feed itself and have sufficient raw
materials. So an organization of agriculture) as essential part of the wholesale
organization of production, was necessary. It was expressed in the nationalist
socialist ideology of the farmer class, inseparably united with tlle soil, pre-
servers of the racial strength of the forebears, the true "nobility of blood and
soil." It had to be protected against the dissolving influences of capitalism and
competition, and connected fito tlle whole of planned production. Conforming
to the reactionary forms of thought of the Nazi system was done by reviving
mediaeval customs and forms of bondage abolished by the French revolution.
Thus mortgage was forbidden; the farmer was not allowed to invest foreign
capital for ameliorations. If he wanted money for his farm he could go to the
State offices, and thus his dependence on the State increased. In his farnling he
was subjected to a number of prescripts restricting his liberty. In the first place
156 WORKERS' COUNCILS
as to the products he had to cultivate; since agriculture hadto feed theentire
people, a difficult problemwiththedensepopulation, andstillmoresoinwar
time, anexactfixationofneeds andproceedswas necessary.Thesale, too,was
organized.Theproductshadtobedeliveredtopurchaseoffices, atpricesfixed
from above, orto agents visiting the farms. Theirswas the all-important task
andduty:thefeedingofthenationalcommunity.Thistruth,however,theyhad
to swallowinthe form ofcomplete subjectionto Governmentmeasures some-
times evenamountingto directseizure ofthecrops.Thusthefarmers, former-
lyfree in,forbetterorworse,fightingtheirwaythroughthevicissitudes ofcap-
italism,wereturnedintoserfs oftheState.Tomeettheemergencies ofbigcap-
italism, mediaeval conditions, under flattering names, were restored for the
farmers.
Totheworkers noless attention, thoughofadifferentkind,was given. For
thegreat aim ofconqueringworld power theinternationallymindedworking
class, fighting capitalism, splittingnational unity, had first to be made power-
less. So thefirst workoftherevolutionof1933was to destroythe social dem-
ocraticand thecommunistparties, to imprisonorbanishtheirleaders, to sup-
press theirpapers, to burntheirbooks andto transform thetradeunions into
national socialist organizations. Laborwas organized notby th.e workers and
for the workers, but by capital and for capital, through its new governing
agents.The"labor-front,"directedbyState-appointedleaders, tooktheplaceof
the unions where, formally at least, the workers themselves were master. Its
taskwas notto fight theemployersforimprovementofworkingconditions,but
the promotion ofproduction. In the productive community, the factory, the
employerwas theleaderandmustbeobeyed, unconditionally.Thenationalist
socialistleaders ofthelabor-front, often former officials ofthe unions, treated
withthe employerandbroughtforward complaints; butthelatterdecided.
It was nottheintentionofnational socialism to make theworkers helpless
victims ofemployers' arbitrariness; the latter also hadto obey the higherdic-
tators.Moreover, forits greataim, theworldfight, nationalsocialismneedsthe
goodwill, the devoted collaboration of all, as soldiers and as workers; so
besides incessantpropaganda, good treatmentas far as possible, was servicea-
ble.Whereheavyexertionsandextremehardshipsweredemandedfrom them
the rewardwas praise oftheir performance ofduty. Shouldtheybe cross and
unwilling, hard constraintwould make it clear thattheywere powerless. Free
choiceoftheir masterhas no senseanylonger, sinceeverywhere the real mas-
ter is the same; the workers are transposed from one shop to another at the
command from above. Undernationalsocialismtheworkerswere turnedinto
bondsmenofState andcapital.
How could it happen that a working class, appearing so powerful as the
Germanonein thehightideofsocial democracy, almostreadyto conquerthe
world, did fall into such utter impotence. Even to those who recognized the
THEFOE 157
decline andinner degeneration ofsocialism, its easysurrenderin 1933, with-
outanyfight, andthecompletedestructionofits imposingstructurecameas a
surprise. In a certain way, however, national socialism may besaid to be the
regnlar descendant ofsocial democracy. National socialism could rise to such
power only on the shoulders ofthe previous workers' movement. By closer
examination ofthe inner connection ofthings we can see that not only com-
munism, by its example ofState-dictatorship, but also social democracy had
prepared the way for national socialism. Theslogans, the aims, the methods
contrivedbysocialdemocracy,for theworkers,weretakenoverandappliedby
nationalsocialism, for capital.
First the idea ofState socialism, consciously planned organization ofthe
entire production by the centralized power ofthe State. Ofcourse the demo-
cratic State was meant, organ of the working people. But intentions do not
countagainstthepowerofreality. Abodythatis masterofproductionis mas-
terofsociety,masteroftheproducers,notwithstandingallparagraphstryingto
makeit a subordinateorgan, andneeds develops into arulingclass orgroup.
Secondly,insocialdemocracyaleadingbureaucracyalreadybeforethefIrst
worldwarwas acquiringmastery over the workers, consciously aspiring atit
and defending it as the normal social condition. Doubtless, those leadersjust
aswellwouldhavedevelopedintoagentsofbigcapital;for ordinarytimesthey
would have served well, butfor leaders inworldwartheywere too soft. The
"Leader-principle" was not invented by national socialism; it developed in
social democracy hidden under democratic appearances. National socialism
proclaimeditopenlyas thenewbasisofsocialrelations anddrewallits conse-
quences.
Moreover,muchoftheprogramofsocialdemocracywasrealizedbynation-
al socialism; and that-an irony ofhistory-especially such aims as had been
criticized as most repulsive by the middle class ofold. To bring order in the
chaos of capitalist production by planned regulation always had been pro-
claimedanimpossibilityanddenounced as anunbearabledespotism. Nowthe
Stateaccomplishedthis organizationto agreatextent, thusmakingthe taskfor
a workers' revolution considerably easier. How often the intention ofsocial
democracy to replace the automatism ofmarket and shop by a consciously
organized distribution has been ridiculed and abhorred: everyone equally
apportionedfor normalizedwants, fed andclothedbytheState, allalike mere
specimens. National socialism went far in the realization ofthis bogus. But
whatwasmeantinthesocialistprogramas organizedabundanceis introduced
hcreas organizedwantandhunger, as theutmostrestriction ofalllife necessi-
ties inorderthatas muchofproductiveforce as possibleremains forwarmate-
rials. Thus the socialism the workers got was parody rather than realization;
what in social democratic ideas bore the character ofrichness, progress and
freedom, found its caricatureindearth,reactionandsuppression.
..J
158 WORKERS' COUNCILS
The chief blame on socialism was the omnipotence of the State, compared
with the personal freedom in capitalist society. This freedom, to be sure, often
was no more than an ambiguous form, but it was something. National social-
ism took away even this semblance of liberty. A system of compulsion, harder
than any slanderer ventured to impute to socialism, was imposed upon
mankind by capitalism in its power and emergency. So it had to disappear;
without liberty man cannot live. Liberty, truly, is only a collective name for dif-
ferent forms and degrees of bondage. Man by his bodily needs depends on
nature; this is the basis of all dependencies. If life is not possible but by restrain-
ing of the free impulses they must be restrained. If productive labor can only
be secured by submission under a commanding power, then command and sub-
mission are a necessity. Now, however, they are a necessity only for the suc-
cumbing capitalism. To uphold exploitation it imposes upon mankind a system
of hard constraint, that for production itself, for the life of man, is not required.
If a fascist system, instead of being shattered in world war were able to stabi-
lize in lasting peace, a system of organized production providing as it pretend-
ed an abundance of all life necessities, even then it could not have lasted. Then
by necessity it would perish through the inner contradiction of freeing mankind
from the constraint of its needs and of yet trying to keep it in social slavery.
Then the fight for freedom, as the only desire left, would be taken up with irre-
sistible force.
The workers cannot foster the easy illusion that with a defeat in world war
the role of national socialism is played out. The epoch of big capitalism is rife
with its principles and instigations. The old world does not come back.
Governments, even those styled democratic, will be compelled to interfere with
production ever more. As long as capital has power and has fear, despotic meth-
ods of government will arise as formidable enemies of the working class. Not
always in the open form of violent middle class or military dictatorships; they
may also take the appearance of labor governments, proceeding from labor
fights, perhaps even in the disguise or under the contradictory name of coun-
cil governments. So a consideration, on broad lines, of their place and role in
the development of society does not seem superfluous. A comparison with the
rise of another new class, formerly the middle class, may offer an analogy,
uncertain though, and surely to be used with caution, and ,vith the reserve that
now the pace of social evolution is much quicker, but has to go farther and
deeper, than it was in former centuries.
The rise of the bourgeoisie took place in steps of gradually growing power.
From the powerless burgesses of the early middle ages they lead to the mer-
chants and guilds ruling their own towns, fighting the nobility and even van-
quishing the knight armies in the open field; an essential element in the medi-
aeval world, yet only islands in an ocean of agrarian power. By means of the
money over of the burghers the kings rise as masters above the other feudal
THE FOE 159
powers, and institute centralized governments in their kingdoms. Their abso-
lutism often is spoken of as a state of equilibrium, when the nobility was no
longer, the bourgeoisie not yet strong enough for mastery; so a third power,
protecting the privileges of the one and the trade of the other class, leaning
upon them both, could rule both. Until, after new growth of trade and indus-
the bourgeoisie is so much strengthened as to overthrow this rule and
establish itself master of society.
The rise of the working class in the 19th century was the rise of a power-
less, exploited, miserable mass into a class with acknowledged rights and with
organizations to defend them. Their unions and their political parties may be
compared somehow with the guilds and the town governments of the burgess-
es, an essential element in the all-powerful capitalist world. Whereas, however,
the burghers could build up their money power separately, leaving the nobility
with its landed property alone, the workers now, to build up their economic
power, have to take the means of production from the capitalists, so that imme-
diate fight cannot be avoided. Just as then in the further rise the old institu-
tions, the independent town governments were destroyed and the burghers sub-
jected by the biggest of the feudals, the princes, masters of the lesser aristocra-
cy, so now the old organization of labor, unions and parties, are destroyed or
subjected by big capitalism, thus clearing the way for more modern forms of
fight. So there is a certain analogy between former absolutism and new dicta-
torship, a third power above the contending classes. Though we cannot yet
speak of their equilibrium, we see that the new rulers appeal to labor as the
basis of their system. It is conceivable that in a higher stage of the power of
labor, camouflaged dictatorships may come up founded upon the support of
labor, transient attempts to keep the workers in submission before their final
victory.
Historical analogy may also be useful to show that development does not
necessarily go along exactly the same lines everywhere. Later middle class mas-
tery in Holland and England, by a fight against absolutistic attempts, developed
out of the mediaeval urban privileges, without having lived under absolutism.
In the same way now it might be that, whereas in some countries fascist dicta-
torships arise, in other countries the conditions are lacking. Then forms and
conditions of the workers' fight will also be different. It is not well imaginable
that in countries where personal liberty is firmly rooted in all classes, such as
England and America, complete slavery could be established, though single
measures of fascist character are possible. Capitalist domination there is found-
ed on finer, more spiritual elements of power, more efficient than rough vio-
lence. Then the power of the workers for a long time will remain poor and
unconscious; practical necessities will enforce partial steps in the direction of
council organization, rather than a great revolutionary fight over fundamentals.
The growth of clear consciousness of class and the organization of production
160 WORKERS' COUNCILS
are a far more extensive and laborious task, when the mind is filled with mid-
dle class ideas and when society is full of unorganized small trade.
In countries with strong fascist dictatorship, on the other hand, the heavi-
est part of the workers' task is the direct fight to overthrow it. There dictator-
ship has gone far already in clearing away small trade with its feelings of inde-
pendence, as well as middle class ideas. The mind is bent already on organiza-
tion of industry, the idea of community is present, though practice is a sham.
The hard pressure forcing all into the same harness of servitude, regulating
production. rationing consumption, uniforming life, evoke resentment and
exasperation, only to be kept down by harder suppression. Because all physi-
cal power and an enormous spiritual power lie in the hands of the rulers, the
fight demands from the workers the highest degree of devotion and courage, of
clear insight and unity. The same holds good if capitalism should succeed in
establishing one supreme dominating power over the entire earth.
The object of national socialist dictatorship, however, the conquest of world
power, makes it probable that it will be destroyed in the war it unloosened.
Then it will leave Europe ruined and devastated, chaotic and inlpoverished, the
production apparatus adapted to war implements, entirely worn away, soil and
man power exhausted, raw materials lacking, towns and factories in ruins, the
economic resources of the continent squandered and annihilated. Then, unlike
in the Germany of 1918, political power will not automatically fall into the
hands of the working class; the victorious powers will not allow it; all their
forces now will serve to keep it down. Whilst at the same time new rulers and
leaders present themselves with promises and programs of a new and better
order, and the allied armies are liberating the European continent for the
exploitation by American capitalism. Then, in this economic, social and spiri-
tual chaos it will fall to the workers to find ways for organizing themselves on
class lines, ways for clearing up their ideas and purposes, ways for first
attempts in reconstructing production. Wherever a nucleus of organization, of
fight, of production is growing, wherever wide embracing cOlUlections are tied,
wherever minds are struggling for clear ideas, there foundations are laid and a
start is made for the future. With partial successes won in devoted fight,
through strong unity and insight progressing by gradual steps, the workers
must build their new society.
It is not possible as yet to foresee the coming forms of social strife and activ-
ity in the different countries. But we may say for certain that, once they under-
stand it, the consciousness of their great task as a bright star will guide the
workers through all the difficulties on their path. And that the certainty that by
their work and fight they build up the power and unity of the working class,
the brotherhood of mankind, will elate their hearts and brighten their minds.
And that the fight will not end until working mankind has won complete free-
dom.
IV. The War
1. JAPANESE IMPERIALISM
The preceding chapters were composed in the first years of the war,
1941-1942, a summary of what past times of struggle provided in useful infor-
mation for the working class, an instrument helpful in their further fight for
freedom. Now, 1944, the war, begun as an attempt of German capital to wrench
world power from the English bourgeoisie, has extended over the entire world.
All the strains created by the growth of capitalism in different continents, all the
antagonisms between new rising and old powerful bourgeoisies, all the conflicts
and excitations in near and far away countries have coalesced and exploded in
this truly world war. And every day shows how much deeper, more tremen-
dous and more thorough than in any former war its effects will be, in America
and Asia, as well as in Europe. Mankind in its entirety is involved, and the neu-
trals, too, experience its consequences. Every nation is implicated in the fate of
every other nation, however remote. This war is one of the last convulsions in
the irresistible process of unification of mankind; the class fight that will evolve
from the war will make this unity into a self-directing community.
Besides Europe, its scene, Eastern Asia has become a second, no less
important, center of the war. In China war withJapan was already going on for
some years when, by the outbreak of the war between America and Japan, it
was included as a subordinate part in the world fight. This struggle in East Asia
will have the same importance for the world's course as the fight in Europe.
Hence its origins, as well as its tendencies, must be considered here somewhat
more attentively.
The dense populations thronged together in the fertile plains of East and
South Asia and the adjacent islands have long resisted the invasion of capital-
ism. With their number of nearly a thousand millions they constituted almost
the half of mankind. Hence, as long as they remain in the condition of small
agriculture and small handicraft, capitalism cannot be said to occupy the
capitalism is not yet at the end of its task and its growth. The old powerful
monarchies stiffened in their first contact with the rising capitalism of the 16th
and 17
th
centuries, they kept off its intrusion and shut out its dissolving effects.
161
162 WORKERS' COUNCILS
Whereas in India and the Indian islands commercial capital could gradually
establish its sway, China and Japan could maintain themselves as strong mili-
tary powers during some centuries. In the 19
th
century the military power of
modern capitalism broke the resistance. The development of capitalism, first in
Japan, now in China, was the origin, is the content and will be the outcome of
the present world war.
19
th
In the 17
th
, 18
th
, and the first half of the century Japan was a
feudal-absolutist state separated from the outer world by strict prohibitional
laws. It was governed by some hundred small princes [daimyos], each lord over
his own realm, but all strictly subjected under the sway of the Shogun in the
formally the military chief for the nominal emperor, the Mikado in
Kyoto, but practically the real ruler. The Shoguns, whose office was hereditary
in the Tokugawa family, retained the daimyos in submission and kept internal
peace during two and a half centuries. A strict feudal organization of
orders in society was maintained; but in the long run it could not prevent an
inner development.
The basis of society was small farming, on lots mostly of only one or some
few acres. Legally half the product had to be delivered to the prince, in kind
(mostly rice), but often more was taken from the farmers. Above them stood
the ruling and exploiting class of warriors, the samurai, forming the uppermost
order ranged in a number of ranks, from the princes down to the common sol-
diers. Tlley constituted the nobility, though their lowest most numerous ranks
had only a small rice-income; they were a kind of knights, living around the
castles of their lords. Since through the cessation of the internal wars of old
their special office, fighting, was no longer needed, they had turned into a pure-
ly parasitic class, living in idleness or occupying themselves with literature and
art-they were the producers of the famous Japanese art, afterwards so much
admired in Europe. But they had the right to slay everyone of the lower orders
they came across without being punished. Below the second order, the farmers,
stood the lowest orders, the artisans and the merchants, who worked for the
samurai, their patrons and customers; they earned money and gradually out of
them arose a first species of bourgeoisie.
The basis of the system was heavy exploitation of the farmers; Japanese
authors said the policy of the government consisted in leaving to the farmers
so much that they neither could die nor live. They were kept in absolute igno-
rance, they were bound to the soil, which they could not sell, all ease oflife was
denied to them. They were slaves of the State; they were looked upon as
machinery for production of the rice the ruling class needed. Sometimes the
famished peasants rose in local revolt and obtained some redress, because the
inept soldiers did not dare to oppose them. But hunger and miserv remained
the prevailing conditions.
THE WAR 163
Still, although the laws meant to establish a petrified immutability, condi-
tions gradually changed. The extension of craft and commerce, the increase of
the production of commodities, brought luxury into the towns. The
nobility, to satisfy their new needs, had to borrow money and became debtors
of the merchant class, the highest daimyos, as well as the common soldiers. The
latter, reduced to poverty, sometimes, notwithstanding the prohibition, escaped
into other professions. In the 19
th
century their growing discontent crystallized
into a systematic hostility to the system of government. Because they formed
the most intellectual class and were influenced by some European ideas trick-
through the narrow chink of Dutch commerce at Deshima, they were able
to formulate their opposition in the nationalist program of "respect for the
Emperor" as a symbol of national unity. So there were forces for change from
feudal absolutism in the direction of capitalism; but would have been too
weak for a revolution, had not the big push from aggressive Western capitalism
come to enforce admission.
In its first rise already, in the discovery of the entire earth in the lOW' cen-
tury, capitalism had knocked at the gates ofJapan; it kindled wars between the
feudal lords and princes; the spreading of Christendom over against Buddhism
was an expression of the paralyzing disruption of the empire. A couple of con-
secutive strong Shoguns averted the danger subjecting the rebellious lords
to their centralized power; the foreigners were driven out, and with a booming
blow-prohibition and extermination of Christendom-the gate was closed for
two centuries and a half. Then modern capitalism in its world conquest again
knocked at the gate, and with its guns forced it open. American and Russian
men-of-war came in 1853, others followed, treaties for commerce were made
with the Western powers. And now the old worm-eaten system of government
broke down, the Shogunate disappeared, dans hostile to it got the upper hand,
and through the "restoration" of 1868 established a strongly united state under
the government of the Mikado.
TIllS meant the introduction of capitalism. First the juridical basis for a mid-
dle-class society was laid: the four orders were abolished and all inhabitants
became citizens with equal rights. Freedom of trade, of living and travel,
private property, also of the land, that could be bought and sold now, were
established. Instead of the tiller of the soil paying half the product in kind, land
taxes in money were laid upon the owner. The samurai lost their feudal privi-
leges, and instead got an amount of money to buy a lot of land or to start a
business; as artisans and employers they formed part of the rising bourgeoisie.
The state officials, the army and naval officers, the intellectuals in the new soci-
ety chiefly came from this samurai class. The upper ranks remained in power;
part of the feudal princes now formed the Secret Council, which, behind the
scenes directed government; their retainers, still linked together by the old clan
ties, became cabinet ministers, generals, party chiefs and influential politicians.
164 WORKERS' COUNCILS
So in Japan things were different from Europe. Capitalism did not come
because a rising bourgeoisie vanquished the feudal class in a revolutionary
struggle, but because a feudal class transformed itself into a bourgeoisie, cer-
tainly a performance worthy of respect. Thus it is easily understood that also
under capitalism the feudal spirit, with its prejudices of ranks, its overbearing
haughtiness, its servile respect to the emperor, persisted in the Japanese ruling
class. "l1le middle-class spirit of European capitalism was entirely lacking;
Germany, that most resembles differs from Japan by the diversity there
between the land owning nobility and the middle-class industrialists. Not till
some dozens of years later a constitution was made, after the German model,
with a parliament without power over the administration and the budget. Civil
rights hardly existed, even on paper; government and officials had absolute
power over the people. The peasants remained the deeply subjected, heavily
exploited mass of starvelings; the substitution of capitalist for feudal pressure
meant that they had to pay a lot of money in taxes or rent, that their land came
into the hands of big landowners, that they could be evicted by withdrawal of
the lease, that instead of the former known misery there came unforeseen ruin
through unknown influences of market and prices. Peasant revolts were numer-
ous after the first years of the Restoration.
Capitalism was introduced from above. Capable young men were sent to
Europe to study science and technics. The government erected factories, in the
first place armament works and shipyards; for military strength against the
other powers was most urgent. Then railways and ships were built, coal mines
constructed, afterwards the textile industry developed, chiefly silk and cotton,
banks were founded. Private business was encouraged by subsidies, and state
industries were turned over to private hands. In this way the government spent
much money, got partIy by taxes, partIy by borrowing, or by the issue of paper
money, which rocketted prices. This policy was continued later on; capital was
fattened by government subsidies, especially navigation, with its ensuing artifi-
cial prosperity. 'Ine system often developed into sheer corruption; the
new-made capitalist class, through the absence of inherited business maxinls in
its dealings, exhibited a brazen lack of ordinary honesty; plundering public
funds for personal eurichment is considered a common affair. Even the highest
officials and politicians take part in big enterprises and procure orders for them
by means of polit-ical influence.
Large numbers of impoverished peasants flowed into the towns, to the fac-
tories, where a heavily exploited proletariat, almost without rights, accumulat-
ed in the slums, ravished through low wages (half a yen per day), long hours
(14-16 hours), and child labor. State officials in the lower ranks, even intellec-
tuals, engineers, marine officers are paid far lower wages than in Europe. The
working classes in the country, as well as in the towns, lived in a state of hope-
less misery, of squalor and despair, surpassing the worst conditions in Europe
THE WAR 165
of olden times. In the textile industry there is a regular slave system; the farm-
ers sell their daughters for a number of years to the factories, where they live
intern under the most horrible unhygienic conditions; and after the contract
expires they return in part only to their villages, bringing with them tubercu-
losis. Thus,Japanese production was cheap, and through the low prices of its
trash could outbid Western products on the Asiatic market. On the basis of
highly developed machine technics-complemented by extensive primitive
home industry and the low standard of life of the workers-capitalist industry
and commerce shot up powerfully; every ten years import and export were
doubled. Though it did not equal America, England and Germany, it rose
above most other countries. The number of industrial workers reached two
lnillions in 1929; agriculture occupied less than half the population already.
The workers lived in a state of partial slavery; only in machine industry and
among the sailors was there a bit of organization. Strikes broke out, but were
forcibly beaten down. Socialist and communist ideas, naturally finding their
way under such conditions, were persecuted and exterminated ferociously.
This fitted entirely in the system of police arbitrariness, of lack of personal
rights, of brutal cruelty and lawless violence against their own, as well as
against subjected alien people, which showed already the character of later fas-
Clsm.
Imperialism, tIle big-capitalist politics of conquest, had no need to develop
gradually here; from the first it belongs to the policy of introduction of capi-
talism from above. From the beginning militarism was the chief aim and ideal
of the new system, first as a means of defense against the white powers, then
as a means of conquest of markets and sources of raw materials. All the old
fighting instincts, traditions of discipline and impulses of oppression of the for-
mer samurai class could exhibit themselves and revive in the military spirit of
exalted nationalism. First by defeating in 1895 the mouldy Chinese power and
conquering Korea and Formosa, it took its place among the big powers. 'Inen
its victory over the equally mouldy power of Russian Czarism in 1904, opened
tIle way into the inner Asiatic realms. Now the Japanese rulers grew cockier
and began to speak ofJapan's world mission to lead East Asia and to free Asia
entirely from the white domination.
This policy of conquest is often defended with the argument that the rapid
increase of the population-a doubling in 35 years-that cannot find a sufficient
living on the small lots of t1llable soil in these mountainous islands, compels
emigration or the increase of industrial labor for which markets and raw mate-
rial must be available. Everywhere the rise of capitalism, with its abolition of
old bonds and its increasing possibilities for living has brought about a rapid
increase of population. Here, on the reverse, this consequence, considered as a
natural phenomenon, is used as an argument for conquest and subjugation of
other peoples. The real reason, however, of this policy of conquest, first of
166 WORKERS' COUNCILS
Manchuria, then of the northern provinces of China, consists inJapan's lack of
iron ore. All industrial and military power nowadays is based upon the dispos-
al over iron and steel; hence Japan wants the rich mineral deposits ofJehol and
Shansi. At the same time Japanese capital invaded China and set up factories,
chiefly cotton mills, in Shanghai and other towns. And there a vision loomed
of a future of greatness and power: to make of these 400 millions firstly cus-
tomers of its industry, and then to exploit them as workers. So it was necessary
to become the political master and leader of China. And most experts in
Eastern affairs did not doubt that Japan, with its military power, its big indus-
try, its proud self-reliance, would succeed in dominating the impotent and
divided Chinese empire.
But here the Japanese rulers met with a heavy reverse. First with the unex-
pected tenacious resistance of the Chinese people, and then with a mightier
opponent. Mastery over the markets and the future development of China is a
life issue for American capitalism in its present state of development.
Notwithstanding the most careful and extensive preparations Japan cannot
match the colossal industrial resources of America, once they are transformed
into military potency. So its ruling class will succumb. When the military power
ofJapan will be destroyed and its arrogant capitalist barons have been beaten
down, then for the first time the Japanese people will be freed from the feudal
forms of oppression.
For Japan this will be the dawn of a new era. Whether the victorious allies
enforce a more modern form of government, or with the collapse of the sup-
pressing power of a revolution of the peasants and the workers breaks out, in
every case the barbarous backwardness in living standards and in ideas will
have lost its basis. Of course, capitalism does not disappear then; that will take
a good deal yet of internal and world fight. But the exploitation will assume
more modern forms. Then theJapanese working class will be able, on the same
footing as their American and European class-fellows, to take part in the gen-
eral fight for freedom.
2. THE RISE OF CHINA
China belongs to those densely populated fertile plains watered by great
rivers, where the necessity of a central regulation of the water for irrigation and
for protection by dykes, in the earliest time already produced unification under
a central government. It remained so for thousands of years. Under a strong
and careful government the land rendered rich produce. But under a weak gov-
ernment, when the officials neglected their duties, when governors and princes
made civil war, the dykes and canals fell into decay, the silted rivers overflowed
the fields, famine and robbers ravished the people, and "tlle wrath of heaven"
lay on the land. The population consisted chiefly of hard toiling peasants, care-
THE WAR 167
fully tilling their small lots. Through the primitive technics and the lack of cat-
tle for ploughing, with the hardest labor during long days they could produce
hardly more a than a bare existence. The slight surplus produce was taken
from them by the ruling class of landowners, intellectuals and officials, the
mandarins. Since usually more even was taken from them, they often stood on
the brink of famine. The plains were open to the north, the Central-Asiatic
steppes, from where warlike nomads came invading and conquering. When
they conquered the land they became the new ruling class, formed a kind of
aristocracy, but were soon assimilated by the higher Chinese civilization. So
came the Mongols in the Middle Ages; so came in the 17th century the
Manchus from the north-east, extended their empire in the 18th century far
over Central Asia, but fell into decay in the 19
th
century.
In the numerous towns lived a large class of small artisans and dealers with
a proletarian class of coolies below and the wealthy class of merchants above
them. From the seaports, as well as on caravan routes to the West across deserts
and mountains, the precious wares of Chinese origin: tea, silk and porcelain
were exported, even into Europe. So there was a middle class comparable with
the European as to free initiative in business. But in the Chinese peasants too
lived the same spirit of independence and self-reliance, far stronger than in the
Japanese, deeply curbed as they were under feudalism. If the oppression of the
officials, tax fanners, landlords or usurers became too heavy, revolts broke out,
increasing sometimes to revolutions, against which the possessing claBs sought
protection from foreign military powers; in such a way the Manchus came into
the country.
In the 19
th
century Western capitalism begins to attack and invade China.
The strict prohibition of opium import led to a war with Britain, 1840, and to
the opening of a number of ports for European commerce. This number
increases in later wars and treaties; European merchants and missionaries
invade the country, and by their use and abuse of their specially protected posi-
tion incite the hatred of the population. Cheap European wares are imported
and undermine home handicraft; heavy war contributions imposed upon
China aggravate the tax burden. Thus revolutionary movements flare up, such
as the Taiping insurrection (1853-1864), having its own emperor in Nanking,
and the Boxer revolt, 1899; both were suppressed with the help of European
military power, which showed itself as barbarian destroyers of old Chinese cul-
ture. When the war withJapan lays bare Chinese impotence, all the Western
powers, including Japan, seize parts of it as "concessions," tearing it asunder in
"spheres of influence." Foreign capital builds some few railways and installs fac-
tories in the great harbor towns; Chinese capital, too, begins to take part. And
now the obsolete Manchu dynasty crumbles in 1911, and is replaced in name
by a Chinese republic proclaimed in Nanking, in reality, however, by the rule
of provincial governors and generals, the so-called "war lords," often upstart
168 WORKERS' COUNCILS
former bandit chiefs, who now with their gang of soldiers in continuous wars
pillage the country.
For the rise of a Chinese capitalism the elements were present: a class of
wealthy or even rich merchants in the cities, mostly agents of foreign capital,
which could develop into a modern bourgeoisie; a numerous class of poor
urban proletarians and artisans, with a low standard of life; and an enormous
population as customers. Western commercial capital, however, was not a driv-
ing force towards a development to higher productivity; it exploited the prim-
itive forms of home industry for commercial profit, and impoverished the arti-
sans by its imports. Hence the dominating position of this Western capital, on
the way to make China into a colony, had to be repelled through organization
of the Chinese forces. This work of organization fell as their task to the young
intellectuals who had studied in England, France, America or Japan, and had
imbibed Western science and Western ideas. One of the first spokesmen was
Sun Yat-Sen, formerly a conspirator persecuted by the Manchu government, a
well-known figure in European socialist circles, then the first President in name
of the Chinese republic. He designed a program of national unity, a mixture of
middle-class democracy and government dictatorship, and after his death in
1925 he became a kind of saint of the new China. He founded the
Kuomintang, the political organization and leading party of the rising Chinese
bourgeoisie.
A strong impulse came from the Russian revolution. In 1920 students in
Paris and workers (chiefly miners, railway men, typos and municipal workers)
in Shanghai and Canton founded a Chinese Communist Party. Big strikes
broke out against the mostly foreign employers, and by their exemplary soli-
darity the workers were able to many of their demands conceded by the
powerful capital; often, however, the fight led to bloody reprisals from the war
lords. Now also the bourgeoisie took heart; in the next years the Kuomintang
allied itself with the communist party and with Russia. Of course, the Chinese
bourgeoisie did not profess any inclination to communist ideas; but it felt that
such an alliance offered a lot of advantages. Merely by allowing them to shout
for liberty and communism it gained the service of the most active groups of
workers and enthusiastic young intellectuals for its purposes, and found skilled
Russian organizers from Moscow as "advisers;' to lead its fight and to instruct
its cadres. Russia, moreover, gave it exactly the slogans it needed for its libera-
tion from the grip of the all-powerful Western imperialism: the doctrine of
world revolution against world capital, especially against its chief exponent, the
English world power. Soon strictly enforced boycott and strike movements
undermined European business and commerce; a sharp anti-foreigner excita-
tion flooded the country; and from the interior, a terrified flock, came a stream
of white missionaries, dealers and agents, fleeing to the seaports and the pro-
tection of the guns of the men-of-war. From Canton, 1926, an expedition went
THE WAR 169
to the North, partly military conquest, partly intense nationalist propaganda
campaign, "watering its horses in the Yang-tse River," chasing the war lords or
compelling them to join, and uniting Central and Southern China into one
state, with Nanking as its capital.
But now the long smouldering and ever again suppressed fight of the class-
es broke loose. The workers of the big towns, especially the industrial workers
of Shanghai, the emporium of the East, took communism in its proletarian
sense, as the workers' class fight. Their wages hardly sufficed to appease direct
hunger, their working time was 14 to 16 hours daily; now they tried to raise
their miserable conditions by striking, notwithstanding that Russian propagan-
da always had taught coalition with the bourgeoisie. The C.P. of China had
been instructed from Moscow that the Chinese revolution was a middle-class
revolution, that the bourgeoisie had to be the future ruling class, and that the
workers simply had to assist her against feudalism and bring her into power.
The c.P. had followed this lesson, and so had entirely neglected to organize
and to arm the workers and the peasants against the bourgeoisie. It kept faith
with the Kuomintang, even when this party ordered the generals to beat down
the peasant revolts; so the communist militants were left at a loss, wavering
between contradictory class sentiments and party commands. The mass actions
that broke out in Canton and Shanghai were quenched in blood by the
Kuomintang armies of Chiang Kai-shek, financed for that purpose by the
Chinese and international bankers. A sharp persecution of communism set in,
thousands of spokesmen and militants were slaughtered, the Russian "advis-
ers" were sent home, the workers' organizations were exterminated, and the
most reactionary parts of the bourgeoisie took the lead in government. These
were chiefly the groups of rich merchants, whose interests as agents of foreign
commercial and banking capital were bound to this capital and to the preser-
vation of the old conditions.
Communism in the meantime had spread over the countryside. During all
these years of anarchy the condition of the peasants had gone from bad to
worse. By tlle landlords and tax collectors they were stripped to the bone; the
war lords often demanded taxes for many years to come, and when they had
been driven out by others who demanded the same taxes again, these were
deposed safely in a foreign Shanghai banking house. Nobody took care of the
canals and the dykes; through floods and the ensuing famine and pestilence
uncounted millions perished. For some few pieces of bread the famished peas-
ants sold their land to full-stocked hoarders and money lenders, and roamed as
beggars or robbers through the land. Under such conditions communism, in its
Russian bolshevist form of a workers and peasants republic, without capitalists,
landlords and usurers, was hailed and made rapid progress in the most dis-
tressed provinces. At the same time it was extinguished in the towns, commu-
nism rose in the countryside as a mighty peasant revolt. Where it won power
170 WORKERS' COUNCILS
it began already to drive out the landlords and to divide up their land among
the peasants and to establish Soviet rule. Part of the armies, consisting chiefly
of workers and peasants, joined by their officers, mostly intellectuals sympa-
thizing with the popular movement, revolted against the reactionary
Kuomintang policy, and formed the nucleus of a Red Army.
The civil war thus ensuing was waged by the Kuomintang govermnent as a
campaign against the "communist bandits," who were branded with all kinds of
atrocities-doubtless the rebellious peasants often were far from soft against
their tormentors-and which had to be exterminated before unity of the nation
was possible. From the side of the peasants it was a tenacious and heroic
defense of their besieged chief territory in the south-eastern provinces Kiangsi
and Hunan. Every year again from 1930 onward, the war of extermination is
resumed with ever larger armies, and ever again it is frustrated by the superi-
or skill, the indomitable courage and the self-sacrificing enthusiasm of the red
troops that in careful and intrepid guerilla fighting had to win their very arms
from the routed enemy regiments. Meanwhile,Japan makes use of this mutual
destruction of Chinese military forces by occupying consecutively Manchuria
and the Northern provinces.
What may be the reason that the Chinese bourgeoisie so ferociously made
war upon the peasants and thereby squandered its military and financial
resources? If we speak of the short existence of a Chinese bourgeoisie, we
should bear in mind that this class differs considerably from tlle bourgeoisie of
Europe, so that ideas instinctively associated with the latter class are not all
applicable here. In Europe the rising bourgeoisie, a class of industrial and com-
mercial employers and capitalists, in a social revolution, assisted by the peas-
ants, had to break the political dominance of a landpossessing nobility. In
China this antagonism is lacking; the bourgeoisie itself was the land-possessing
class, and from herself came the ruling officials. On account of the lack of a rap-
idly rising industry the rich urban merchants and business men invested their
money in land; and rent was as important a source of their income as profit;
on the reverse landowners went into the town to set up a business. They com-
bined the characters of two opposite European classes. Thus the peasants' fight
found its most fitting expression in the communist slogan of fight against cap-
italism. In its character of landowners subjection and exploitation of the peas-
ants was a life interest of the Chinese bourgeoisie; its deepest feelings were
affected by the land expropriation of the red soviets. So tlle conservative ele-
ments of this class, who had first distrusted the Kuomintang as a disguised red
organization, as soon as possible expelled the communists and made it an
instrument of reactionary middle-class politics. They felt the lack of power on
the part of the Chinese government to bring order into the chaos: so they
sought support from the strongest anti-communist power, from Japan. Japan,
aiming at dominance over the resources, the mineral riches and the labor power
THE WAR ]71
of China, came forward as the protector of the landowning interests against the
rebellious masses. In every next treaty it imposed upon the Chinese govern-
ment the duty to exterminate communism.
Against iliis conservative there was, however, an opposite trend, especially
among the smaller bourgeoisie and the intellectuals. It anticipated and repre-
sented the future; it gave expression not to what the bourgeoisie had been till
now, but to what it would be and should be. Its spokesmen realized that a
wealthy class of peasants with purchasing power was the chief and necessary
condition for a powerful development of capitalist industry in China. Their
middle-class feeling understood instinctively that all these landowners and
usurers represented a piece of feudalism, barring the way to the future devel-
opment of China; and that a free landowning peasantry belongs to the mid-
dle-class world and would form its solid basis. Hence, next to and opposite to
the conservative tendency there was a strong democratic stream of thought
among the rising Chinese bourgeoisie. It was strongly nationalistic; the
Japanese aggression, the seizure of precious provinces in the North, and the
haughty brutalities ofJapanese militarism filled it with indignation. It wished
to end the civil war by concessions to the peasants in order to unite all force in
a common resistance to Japanese imperialism.
Five years the extermination campaign lasted in Kiangsi, and, on a minor
scale, in other provinces, without Success. The communist armies were firmly
rooted in the peasant population, among which they made extensive educa-
tional propaganda, and from which ever new forces came to join them. When
at last their position against the besieging superior forces ably led by German
military advisers, became untenable, they broke through the iron ring and
invaded the South-western provinces. Then in 1934 the Red Army began its
famous long march, over the highest, nearly unpassable, mountain passes,
across ilie wildest and most dangerous rivers, through endless swampy steppes,
through the extremes of heat and cold, always surrounded and attacked by bet-
ter equipped superior White forces, until after heavy privations, heroic strug-
gles and severe losses it arrived, a year later, in the North-western provinces,
where in Shensi a new Soviet government was organized.
But now, in the meantime, tactics and aims had changed. Not against capi-
talism and landlords the communist fight was directed in the first place, but
against Japan and Japanese imperialism. Before the start of their long march
already the C.P. of China had proposed, publicly, to the Kuomintang to cease
ili.e civil war in order to fight in common the Japanese aggression, in which case
it would stop the expropriations and respect the existing property rights, in
exchange for social reform and democratic rights of the people. But this offer
had not been regarded.
This change of tactics has been sharply criticized in other countries as an
opportunistic renouncement of communist principles. Such criticism, however,
172 WORKERS' COUNCILS
is based on the false supposition that the C.P. was a party of industrial work-
ers exploited by big capitalism. The Chinese C.P., and still more the Red Army,
however, consists of rebellious peasants. Not the name stuck on a label outside,
but the class character determines the real content of thought and action. The
party leaders saw quite well that Japanese military power was the most dan-
gerous threat to the Chinese peasants, and that a coalition of the Chinese bour-
geoisie with Japan would make their liberation impossible. So it was imperative
to separate them and to direct all military and economic potencies of China
against Japan. To the red leaders the ideal of the future was a democratic mid-
dle-class China, with free peasants as owners, or at least well-to-do farmers of
the soil. Under communist ideas and slogans they were the heralds and cham-
pions of the capitalist development of China.
From these tendencies on both sides arose the new policy, in the dramatic
form of the capture, December, 1936, in Sianfu, of the gerneralissimo Chiang
Kai-shek by the government's own Manchurian troops, who wanted to fight the
Japanese rather than the Reds. The nationalist leader, in involuntary discours-
es with the communist leaders, could make certain that they were equally
nationalist and middle-class minded as himself, and were ready to put them-
selves under his command in a war with Japan. When, then, the civil war
ceased and the most reactionary leaders were turned out of the government,
Japan immediately drew the consequences and began war with a heavy attack
on Shanghai. China, with its undeveloped sleeping resources at first sight might
seem no match for the tremendons, carefully prepared war machinery ofJapan.
But it had trained armies now, it was filled with a strong nationalist spirit, and
it got war materials from England and America. To be sure, its amlies had to
give way, the government had to retreat to Chunking in the South-western
province of Szechuan, and Japanese troops occupied the Eastern towns. But
behind their back ever new armies of partisans stood up as guerilla and
exhausted their forces. Till, in 1941, after the war in Europe had gone on for
nearly two years, the long foreseen conflict between America and Japan broke
out in consequence of America's ultimatum that Japan should leave China.
Thus the Chinese war became part of the world war.
This world war means the rise of China as a new capitalist world power.
Not immediately as an independent power on an equal par with its allies,
Russia on the one, America on the other side, though it exceeds both in popu-
lation. Its economical and political dependence on America, to which it is heav-
ily in debt because of its war supplies, will mark the new future; American cap-
ital will then have the lead in building up its industry. Two great tasks are
standing in the forefront; the construction of railways and roads, combined
with the production of engines and motor cars, to modernize the primitive
expensive traffic; and introduction of mechanical power in agriculture to free
the human beast-of-burden and make its labor efficient. The accomplishment
THE WAR 173
of these tasks requires a big metal industry. China possesses all the resources
necessary for capitalist development. It has coal, iron and other minerals, not
enough to make it an industrial country for export as England or Germany, but
enough for its own needs. It has a dense population with all the qualities nec-
essary for capitalism: a strong individualism, painstaking diligence, capability,
spirit of enterprise, and a low standard of needs. It has, moreover, a fertile soil,
capable of producing an abundance of products, but requiring security by wide
scientific care and regulation of the water, by constructing dykes and excavat-
ing and normalizing the rivers.
The ideals and aims for which the working masses of China are fighting,
will of course not be realized. Landowners, exploitation and poverty will not
disappear; what disappears are the old stagnant, primitive forms of misery,
usury and oppression. The productivity of labor will be enhanced; the new
forms of direct exploitation by industrial capital will replace the old ones. The
problems facing Chinese capitalism will require central regulations by a pow-
erful government. That means forms of dictatorship in the central government,
perhaps complemented by democratic forms of autonomy in the small units of
district and village. The introduction of mechanical force into agriculture
requires the conjunction of the small lots into large production units; whether
by gradual expropriation of the small peasants, or by the foundation of co-oper-
atives or kolchozes after the Russian model, will depend on the relative power
of the contending classes. This development will not go on without producing
deep changes in the economic, and thereby in the social relations, the spiritual
life and the old family structure. The dimensions, however, of things there, of
the country, of the population, of its misery, of its traditions, of its old cultural
life are so colossal, that an innovation of conditions, even if taken up with the
utmost energy, will take many dozens of years.
The intensity of this development of economic conditions will stir the ener-
gies and stimulate the activity of the classes. Corresponding to capitalism the
fight against capitalism will arise simultaneously. With the growth of industry
the fight of the industrial workers will spring up. With the strong spirit of
organization and great solidarity shown so often by the Chinese proletarians
and artisans, even a rise more rapid than in Europe of a powerful working class
movement may be expected. To be sure, the industrial workers will remain a
minority compared with the mass of the agrarian population, equally subject-
ed to capitalist exploitation, though in another way. The mechanisation of agri-
however, will weave strong ties between them, manifesting itself in the
community of interests and fights. So the character of the fight for freedom and
mastery may take in many regards another aspect in China than in Western
Europe and America.
174 WORKERS' COUNCILS
3. THE COLONIES
Whensocialism grew up, halfa centuryago, the general expectationwas
that the liberation ofthe colonial peoples would take place together with the
liberation of the workers. The colonies there and the workers here were
exploited by the same capitalism; so they were allies in the fight against the
commonfoe. Itis true that their fight for freedom did not mean freedom for
theentirepeople; it meant therise ofa newrulingclass. Buteventhenit was
commonly accepted, with only occasional doubts, that the working class in
Europeandtherisingbourgeoisieinthecolonies shouldbeallies. Forthecom-
munistpartythis was still moreself-evident; itmeantthatthenew rulingclass
ofRussia looked uponthe future ruling classes in the colonies as its natural
friends, andtriedtohelpthem. Certainlytheforces for colonialliberationwere
still weak. InIndia, with its 300 millions ofpeople, industry and a class of
employers gradually developed, giving the basis for an independence move-
ment, thatsuffers,however,from thegreatdiversityofracesandreligions.The
50millions populationofJavais well-nighhomogeneous,butentirelyagrarian,
and the oppositionwas tillrecentlyrestricted to small groups ofintellectuals.
Thesecolonialpeoplesarenosavagesorbarbarians,as thetribes ofcentral
Africa orthe inhabitants ofremoteIndianislands. Theylive denselycrowded
infertileareaswithahighlydevelopedagriculture.Oftentheyhaveathousand
years oldcivilization;thereis aseparationbetweenarulingclass ofpriests
nobilityspendingtheirportionofthe totalproductinoftenrefined artisticand
spiritual culture, and the subjugated masses of heavily exploited peasants.
Foreign warlike peoples invaded India and formed new upper social layers;
incessantwars betweenlarger andsmaller princes checked theincreaseofthe
population. Agriculture was the chief occupation; because during many
month.s agricultural labor had to rest, there was also an important cottage
industryin the villages. This handicraft, artistic and highly developed, differ-
ingaccording to naturalproduce, raw materials and inherited endowments in
differentregions, producedalargeamountofgoods forexport. Cottongoods,
fme dyed cloths in many designs, silk wares, goldsmiths' and copper wares,
beautifully decorated swords formed the contents ofan extensive trade over
Southern and Eastern Asia, and far to the West, even into Europe. Herethe
precious colored textilewares fromtheEast, chieflyfromIndianvillageindus-
formed the main part ofmedieval traffic, produced the materials for the
dress ofprinces, nobility and rich bourgeoisie, up to the 18
th
century, and
broughta continuous flow ofgold fromEuropetoIndia.
Against the invading European capitalism the Indian countries, mostly
divided into small states, weresoonpowerless. Thearmed Westernmerchant
vessels began to monopolize forcibly the entire trade ofthe Indianseas, with
its enormous profits. Thereafterdirect conquest andpillagebroughttheaccu-
mulated riches ofEastern treasuries into the hands ofWestern officials and
THEWAR 175
adventurers, and contributedinEngland in the 18
th
centuryto form the capi-
tal needed in the industrial revolution. More important still was regular
exploitation by enforced delivering of precious products-on the Molucca
islands ofspices, onJavaofpepper, indigo, sugar-forwhich hardly anything
was paid, a few coppers for whatinEuropebroughthundreds offlorins. The
populationhad to spendagreatdealofits time andofits soilintheseproducts
forexport,thusleavingnotenoughfor theirownfood; famineandrevoltswere
theresult. Orheavytaxes wereimposed uponthepeople ofIndia, toprocure
highincomesfor aparasiticalclassofEnglishofficials andnabobs.Atthesame
time England employed its political power to forbid, in the interest of the
Lancashirecottonindustry, theexportofIndiantextile goods. Thus theflour-
ishingIndian cottageindustrywas destroyed and the peasants werestill more
impoverished.Theresultwas thatinthe19
th
century, andevenup to thepres-
ent day, for the majority ofthe villagers life is a continuous state ofhunger.
Famines and pestilences, formerly unavoidable local occurrences, now take
place indevastatedlargerregions andmoreoften. But alsoinnormal times in
thevillages andurbanslums astateofmiseryreigns, worse thanatanytimein
Europe.
Theessenceofcolonialpolicyis exploitationofforeign countrieswhilepre-
serving their primitive forms ofproductionorevenlowering theirproductivi-
ty. Here capital is not a revolutionary agent developing production to higher
forms;justthereverse. Europeancapitalis herea dissolvingagent, destroying
the old modes ofwork and life without replacing them by better technics.
European capital, like a vampire, clasps the defenceless tropical peoples and
sucks theirlife bloodwithoutcaringwhetherthevictims succumb.
Westernscience ofcoursedemonstratesthatthedominationofcoloniesby
theEuropeans is basedonnature, henceis a necessity. Thebasis is formed by
the difference ofdimate. Incool and moderate climes mancan extorthis liv-
from naturebycontinuous exertiononly; the temperatureallows ofassid-
uous hard working; and the inconstancy of the phenomena, the irregular
change from storm and rain to sunshine stimulates the energy into restless
activity. Laborandenergybecamethegospelofthewhiterace; soitgainedits
superior knowledge and technics that made it master ofthe earth. In the hot
tropical and sub-tropical countries, on the contrary, nature by itself or with
slight laborbears abundantfruit; here the heat makes everycontinuous exer-
tion a torment. Here the dictum could originate that to eathis bread in the
sweatofhisbrowwas theworstcursetoman.Themonotonousequalityofthe
weather, only interrupted at the change ofseasons, deadens the energy; the
white people, too, whenstaying too longinthe tropics, are subjected to these
influences that renderlaziness the chiefcharacteristic andNirvanathehighest
ideaLThesedictaofsciencedoubtlessaretrue, theoretically.Butpracticallywe
sec thattheIndianandJavanesepeasantstill theirsoil andperformtheirhand-
J
176 WORKERS' COUNCILS
icraft with unflagging zeal and painstaking assiduity. Not, of course, in the
nerve-racking tempo of modern factory work; economic necessity determines
the character of their labor.
The Western bourgeoisie considers its rule over the colonies a natural and
lasting state of things, idealizing it into a division of tasks profitable to both par-
ties. The energetic intelligent race from the cool climes, it says, serves as the
leaders of production, whereas the lazy, careless colored races execute under
their command the unintelligent manual labor. Thus the tropical products,
indispensable raw materials and important delicacies are inserted into the
world's commerce. And European capital wins its well deserved profits because
its government it assures to the fatalistic aborigines life, security, peace and,
by its medical service and hygienic measures, health, too. Suppose this idyll of
a paternal government, honest illusion or deceptive talk of theorists and offi-
cials, to be as true as in reality it is impossible under capitalist rule, then still it
would be faced by an insoluble dilemma: If by the cessation of wars, epidemics
and infant mortality the population increases, there results a shortage of arable
land notwithstanding all the irrigation and reclaiming that only postpones the
conflict. Industrialization for export, properly speaking an unnatural way out
for the most fertile lands, can give only temporary relief. Into such a [mal state
every population that, ruled from above, is left to its own life instincts, must
arrive. Every economic system develops its own system of population increase.
If by an autocratic rule from above the feelings of responsibility are suppressed,
then any active force of self-restraint and self-rule over the conditions of life is
extinguished. The impending clash between increase of population and restric-
tion of means of subsistence can find its solution only in a strong display of
inner energy and will-power of a people, consequence of its self-reliance and
freedom, or of an active fight for frcedom.
In the later part of the 19
th
century and thercafter it is not the commercial
capital in the first place that exploits the colonies. Capitalist enterprises come
forth in ever greater l1lunbers: partly agricnltural and mining enterprises for
cultivating rubber, coffee, tea, for winning oil, tin and other metals, partly
industrial or mixed enterprises to work the tropical raw materials, such as tex-
tile or sugar factories. It is mostly European capital, drawing high profits from
this exploitation. In India, where in such towns as Bombay lived a class of rich
merchants, these also take part and constitute a first instance of a modern
Indian bourgeoisie. This Indian industry consists well nigh exclusively of tex-
tile factories; and from all the textile goods consumed in India nearly 60 per
cent is imported from England andJapan, 20 per cent comes from the cottage
industry, and only 20 per cent is provided by Indian factories. Yet to exhibit
and introduce aspects of modern work and life is suft'icient inspiration to a
nationalist movement, for throwing off the yoke of the Western rulers. Its
spokesmen are the intellectuals, especially the younger generation, who are
THE WAR 177
acquainted with Western science, and in opposition to it study and emphasize
with strong conviction their own national culture. They feel deeply hurt by the
racial haughtiness of the whites, who admit them in lower oft'ices only; they
come forward as the leaders of the oppressed masses, involving them into their
fight for independence. Since the impudent riches of the rulers contrasts so
sharply with the abject misery of the masses, this is not difficult. Though as yet
the fight can only be peaceful propaganda, passive resistance, and non-eo-oper-
ation, i.e., the refusal of collaboration with the English government, it alarms
public opinion in England, inspiring so much apprehension in the rulers there
that they resort to vague promises of self-government, and at the same time to
sharp persecutions. The movement, of course, is too weak still to throw off the
domination of Western capitalism. With the capitalist factories a class of indus-
trial workers is coming into being with extremely low wages and an incredibly
low standard of living. Strikes occurred against Indian, as well as against
European employers. But compared with the immense population all this is an
insignificant start, important only as indication of future development.
With the present world war colonial exploitation, as well as the problem of
liberation, acquires a new aspect. Against the enormously increasing power of
capitalism a fight for independence in its old meaning has no longer any
chance. On the other hand, it is probable that from now on world capital under
American hegemony will act as a revolutionary agent. By a more rational sys-
tem of exploitation of these hundreds of millions of people capital will be able
to increase its profits considerably; by following another way than the previous
primitive impoverishing methods of plunder, by raising labor in the colonies to
a higher level of productivity, by better technics, by improvement of traffic, by
investing more capital, by social regulations and progress in education. All of
this is not possible without according a large amount of independence or at
least self-rule to the colonies.
Self-rule of the colonies, of India, and of the Malayan islands, has already
been announced. It means that parliaments in Europe and viceroys sent from
thither can no longer govern them despotically. It does not mean that political-
ly the working masses will be their own masters, that as free producers they
will dispose of their means of production. Self-rule relates to the upper classes
of these colonies exclusively; not only will they be inserted into the lower ranks
of administration, but they will occupy the leading places, assisted of COurse by
white "advisers" and experts, to ensure that capital interests are served in the
right way. Already from the upper classes of India a rather numerous group of
intellectuals has proceeded, quite capable as ruling officials to modernize polit-
ical and social life.
To characterize modern capitalist production as a system wherein the work-
ers by their own free responsibility and will-power are driven to the utmost
exertion, the expression was often used that a free worker is no coolie. The
178 WORKERS' COUNCILS
problem of Asia now is to make the coolie a free worker. In China the process
is taking its course; there the workers of olden times possessed a strong indi-
vidualism in tropical countries it will be much more difficult to transform the
passive downtrodden masses, kept in deep ignorance and superstition by heavy
oppression, into active well-instructed workers capable of handling the modern
productive apparatus and forces. Thus capital is faced with many problems.
Modernization of the government apparatus through self-rule is necessary, but
more is needed: the possibility of social and spiritual organization and progress,
based on political and social rights and liberties, on sound general instruction.
Whether world capital will be able and willing to follow this course cannot be
foreseen. If it does, then the working classes of these countries will be capable
of independent fighting for their class interests and for freedom along with the
Western workers.
To all the peoples and tribes living in primitive forms of production in
Africa, in Asia, in Australia, it will, of course, mean all entire change of the
world, when the working class will have annihilated capitalism. Instead of as
hard exploiting masters and cruel tyrants, the white race will come to them as
friends to help them and to teach them how to take part in the progressing
development of humanity.
4. RUSSIA AND EUROPE
With this war Russia, the Federation of Socialist Soviet Republics, as it calls
itself, has made its entry among the recognized capitalist powers. In the
Western countries an entire change has taken place in valuation of and attitude
towards Russia and bolshevism. Certainly, the first fear of a communist revo-
lution and the accompanying calumnies had already died away gradually in the
ruling classes. Yet they were not quite at ease about their workers, and since the
talk of the C.P. on world revolution went on, reports of forged atrocities and
real cruelties were a motive to exclude Russia from the community of civilized
nations. Until they needed Russia as an ally against Germany; then sentiment
made a turn, though at first only in the kind wish that both dictatorships might
devour one another. Then there they met governing politicians, officials, gen-
erals and officers, factory directors, intellectuals, an entire well-dressed, civi-
lized, well-to-do class ruling the masses, just as at home. So they were reas-
sured. The church only kept aloof, because of the bolshevist anti-religious
propaganda.
The similarity of political forms and methods of government in Russia and
Germany strikes the eye at first sight. In both the same dictatorship of a small
group of leaders, assisted by a powerful well-organized and disciplined party,
the same omnipotence of the ruling bureaucracy, the same absence of personal
rights and of free speech, the same levelling of spiritual life into one doctrine,
THE WAR 179
upheld by terrorism, the same cruelty towards opposition or even criticism.
The economic basis, however, is different. In Russia it is state capitalism, in
Germany state-directed private capitalism. In Germany there is a numerous
class of owners of the means of production, a bourgeoisie, which, because of
the difficulty of the fight for world power, gave itself a tyrannical dictatorship;
it is augmented by an increasing bureaucracy of officials. In Russia bureaucra-
cy is master of the means of production. The conformity in the necessary forms
of practical rule and administration, domination from above, gave them the
same system of dictatorship.
There is similarity also in the character of their propaganda. Both make use
of the ideology of community, because both represent organized against unor-
ganized capitalism. As in Russia, the antithesis to old capitalism was expressed
in the catchword of communism, so in Germany by socialism. These are the
names under which, in extensive propaganda, the fight for their own power
against the old capitalist powers is urged upon the masses as a fight against cap-
italism. Thus they present themselves as more than a mere nationalism, they
proclaim new world principles, fit for all countries, to be realized by world-rev-
olution and world war against the exponents of the old order, English and
American capitalism. So they fmd adherents to their cause, followers of their
party, within the country of their opponents, ready to undermine from within
their power of resistance.
As similar hostile rivals they find a basis for their opposition in their origin
and the consequent traditions. National socialism came to power as an agent of
big capitalism, wiping out the old labor movement, in conscious sharp antago-
nism to the "Marxian" trends of social-democracy and communism. In their
own country only it could proclaim itself a party of the workers and impose by
terror-propaganda this trickery upon uncritical adherents. The Russian ideolo-
gy proceeded directly from a revolution made by the workers under the com-
munist banner, and appealed to Marxian doctrines that had been adapted to its
cause; but in foreign countries only could it find belief that indeed it repre-
sented dictatorship of the workers. Here it could impose upon young people
desirous to fight capitalism and exploitation, whereas national-socialism was
considered everywhere as a genuine enemy of the workers, and found sympa-
thy only among the upper and lower part of the bourgeoisie.
The foreih'1l policy of the Russian revolution was a logical consequence of
its basic ideas. Though a socialist community has no wishes but to live in peace
besides other peoples, it is in danger of being attacked by capitalist states.
Hence, it must prepare for war. Moreover, world revolution, annihilation of
capitalism all over the world remains the supreme aim; only in this way, by lib-
erating the workers elsewhere, the socialist state can secure its own freedom. So
the socialist state arms and prepares for war, not only for defense, but also for
attack. And with surprise naive idealists perceive that what seemed a haven of
180 WORKERS' COUNCILS
peace reveals itself a power for war. And they ask whether indeed compulsion
by the sword can bring freedom to others.
The contradiction is easily explained. What is named state-socialism dis-
closes itself as state-capitalism, the rule of a new exploiting class, bureaucracy,
master of the production apparatus, as in other countries the bourgeoisie. It,
too, lives on surplus value. The larger its realm, its power, the larger its share,
its wealth. Thus, for this bureaucracy war assumes the same significance as for
the bourgeoisie. It takes part in the world contest of powers, on the same foot-
ing as other States, but with the pretension to be the world-champion of the
working class. And though in view of the allied governments it cannot make
too much show of it, and temporarily even silences the Comintern, yet it knows
that in all foreign countries communist parties are working on its behalf. Thus
the role of Russia in and after the war begins to depict itself. Behind the old
now deceitful aims of extending the realm of communism stands the reality of
extending the own international power. If the German bourgeoisie tries to steer
its course in the track of England and America, the working class, prevented
during long years from fmding its own new way, may produce communist par-
ties as agents of Russian hegemony over the Mid-European regions.
This policy and position among the other capitalist powers has its basis in
an inner change of policy in Russia itself. State capitalism has consolidated its
power in and through the war, the completion of the preceding development.
Since the revolution there was a continual struggle between the socially impor-
tant groups. First, State bureaucracy, with the Communist Party as its organ,
being master of the industrial production, in a hard fight subdued the peasants
in its canlpaign of founding the kolchoses. Besides them, however, stood the
army officers and the numerous technical experts and officials in the factories,
commonly called the engineers. They had an important function as technical
leaders of the production, they had their own union, and were mostly non-
party men. The well-known trials of engineers on forged charges of sabotage
were an episode in the silent struggle; they were condemned not because they
had committed the imputed crimes, but for intimidation and to forestall any
attempt at independent political action. In the sanle way in the trial of General
Tukhaehevsky and other officers all elements from whom independent action
was feared, were shot and replaced by others. Thus the political bureaucracy
remained master, but it had to regard the other groups.
The war made a uIlification of all these forces necessary, and at the same
time possible, on the basis of a strong nationalism aspiring to expansion. In the
preceding years some so-called reforms had been proclaimed, though by the
absence of free speech and free press they had nO meaning for the working
masses; they now could afford an opportunity for non-party men to take part
in the governing apparatus. Party rule and Comintern was pushed into the
background. Now under a firmly consolidated ruling class the masses, as in
THE WAR ]81
every capitalist state, could be led to the front in well-disciplined gigantic
armies.
At the same time the war has brought about an increase of the spiritual
influence of bolshevism in Western Europe. Not among the bourgeoisie; now
that organized big capitalism is becoming master of the world it has not the
least inclination to make way for state capitalism. Not very much among the
workers; in the beginning the recognition perforce of the communist parties by
the governments may increase its credit among workers dominated by nation-
alism; but its support of government policy, however masked by a seeming of
wild opposition talk, will soon discredit it among the fighting masses of the
working class. Among the Western intellectuals, however, Russian bolshevism
attracts ever more attention.
Under the rule of big capitalism it is the class of intellectuals that has the
technical lead of production, and the spiritual lead of society in its hands. Now
it begins to ask-in so far as it is not entirely occupied by its narrow personal
job-why shareholders and stock jobbers should have the upper command over
production. It feels itself called upon to lead social production as an organized
process, to throw off the dominance of a parasitical bourgeoisie and to rule
society. It is divided, however, in a series of higher and lower ranks, arranged
after usefulness or what else; they form a ladder on which, in mutual rivalry,
one may ascend by ambition, capacities, favor or cunning. The lower and badly
paid ranks among them may join the fight of the working class against capital.
Its higher and leading elements, of course, are hostile to any idea of mastery by
the workers over the process of production. Their prominent thinkers and
learned scholars, often refined or ingenious spirits, strongly feel their superior-
ity threatened by the phantom of a general "levelling." The intellectual class
feels quite well that its ideal of social order cannot exist without a strong power
apparatus, to keep down private capital, but chiefly to keep down the working
masses. What they want is a moderate dictatorship, strong enough to resist
attempts to revolution, civilized enough to dominate the masses spiritually and ...
to assure a rational liberty of speech and opinion to the civilized; anyhow, with-
out the rough violence that made national socialism the object of hatred all over
Europe. A free road to the talented, and society led by the intellectual elite,
such is the social ideal rising in this class.
This they see realized to a fair extent, though mixed up with barbarous
remnants, in the Russian system. And the Russians have exerted themselves to
promote such ideas. Soon after the revolution already scientific congresses were
organized where the assembled scholars from all countries were regally enter-
tained-though there was dearth in the land-and got the most favorable impres-
sion of the young enthusiasm and the fresh energy bestowed by the
new-shaped society upon science and technics. Of the Solovki camps, where
the deported peasants and workers are ill-treated till they perish, of course,
182 WORKERS' COUNCILS
nothing was shown to them, nor did they know of the deadly hard labor of mil-
lions of victims in the icy wilds of Siberia; probably not even the ordinary
"black workers" in the factories did they meet with. Such inspiring experiences
could not but strongly impress the younger Western intellectuals; what trickled
through about atrocities was easily effaced by the splendor of increasing pro-
duction figures in the world-wide propaganda of the C.P. And now the military
successes of the Russian armies enhance the image of Russia as a vigorous civ-
ilized modern State.
So we may surmise something about the future of Russia and Bolshevism
in Europe. In its antagonism to the Western powers of private capitalism,
England and America, its ideology may serve as a valuable weapon to under-
mine the solid power of their bourgeoisie, by rousing, in case of need, working
class opposition against her. As a recognized respectable party the C.P. will try
to win posts of influence in politics, either in competition or in collaboration
with social democracy; by a seeming show of sparkling opposition talk it seeks
to gather the workers in its fold, to deter them from taking their own road to
freedom. As it does already now, it will try, by a quasi-scientific propaganda
among intellectuals, to win them over to some bolshevist kind of dictatorial
government, and adorn may be, with the mark world-revolution.
More direct and important will be the Russian influence upon Central
Europe. In the wake of the annihilation of military power comes economic slav-
ery. To impose as much as possible of the burdens on the defeated foe, through
the necessity of restoration and compensation of the iIIlIIleasurable wanton
destruction and pillages by the German armies, not only all property, so far as
it is left, will be seized, but also all the peoples in so far as they are left, will be
harnessed under the yoke of hard labor. The victors probably will not, as after
the first world war, leave to the German bourgeoisie the possession of the pro-
duction apparatus and the rule of the country.
Before, then, an effective fight for their cause will be possible to the Central
European workers, a deep change in their thinking and willing must take place.
They are faced not only by the formidable physical power of victorious world
capitalism, but they will also encounter extreme difficulty in resisting the spir-
itual forces of Bolshevism on the one side, nationalism on the other side, to find
the way clear to their class task. In this fight they must involve the Russian
workers. Russian State capitalism, as well, has been exhausted and ravaged
the war; to restore itself it will have to lay a harder pressure upon the workers.
So the Russian workers will be compelled to take up the fight for freedom, for
liberation out of slavery, as a new great task, the same as the workers all over
the world.
THE WAR 183
5. IN THE ABYSS
The second world war has thrown society into an abyss deeper than any
former catastrophe. In the first world war the contending capitalisms stood
against one another as Powers of old form, waging war in old forms, only on
a larger scale and with improved technics. Now the war has reversed the inner
stmctures of the States, and new political structures have arisen; now the war
is a "total war," into which all forces of society are linked up as its subordinate
means.
In and through this wru: society is thrown back to a lower level of civiliza-
tion. That is not so much because of the immense sacrifices of life and blood.
During the entire period of civilization-i.e., the period of written history and
of the division of society into exploiting and exploited classes, between the
primitive tribal life and the future world unity of mankind-war was the form
of the stmggle for existence. So it is quite natural that the last world fights,
before the fmal consolidation drawing along all people, should embrace greater
names and be more bloody than any former war.
What makes this retrogressive is first the regress from military and juridi-
cal norms that in the 19
th
century gave a certain appearance of humanity to
warfare. rlne enemies were nominally considered as equal humans and sol-
diers, political rights of vanquished or occupied countries were recognized,
national sentiments respected; civilians usually stood outside the fighting. In
international treaties on "the laws of war" these principles were endorsed, and
however often violated, they stood out as international law, that could be
appealed to against the arbitrariness of a victor. Total war tramples OIl all these
scraps of paper. Not only are all supplies seized and all industry is put into the
service of the conqueror, not only are prisoners of war set to work for the
enemy, but on an ever larger scale all people from occupied regions are forcibly,
in a real slave hunting, dragged off to work in the German war industry. So, by
producing arms for the foe, they are constrained to aid him against their own
nation; at the same time relieving the enemy's workers for service at the front.
Now that war is a matter of industrial production, slave labor becomes one of
the foundations of warfare.
It is natural that in the occupied countries-half of Europe-resistance
sprang up, and it is natural that it was suppressed severely, even when it con-
sisted only in tentative first traces. It is not natural, however, that in the repres-
sion such a height of cruelty was reached, as first applied in the rough mis-
handling and extermination of the Jewish citizens and then extended to all
national opposition. The German soldier, himself an unwilling slave of the dic-
tatorial apparatus, develops into a master and instrument of oppression. As a
contamination the habits of violence and outrage spread over the conti-
nent, wakening an immense hatred against the German occupants.
_---i
184 WORKERS' COUNCILS
In former wars occupation of a foreign country was considered a temporary
situation, and international law expressed it in this way, that the occupant was
not allowed to change anything in the fundamental law of the country, and
only took the administration in its hands insofar as war conditions necessitat-
ed it. Now, however, Germany interfered everywhere in the existing institu-
tions, trying to impose the national-socialist principles, pretending it was the
beginning of a new era for the entire Europe in which all the other countries
as allies, i.e., vassals, had to follow Gennany. Underlings it found in the small
number of foreign adherents to its creed, and the larger number who saw their
chance now; they were made rulers over their compatriots and exhibited the
same spirit of wanton violence. The same spiritual tyranny as in Germany itself
is imposed; and especially in the ,\Vesteru countries, with their large civilliber-
ties, this arouses an increasing embitterment, that found expression in under-
ground literature. Neither the silly fiction of the unity of the Teutonic race nor
the argument of the united continent of Europe made any impression.
The fall into barbarity is due, firstly, to the destructive power of modern
war machinery. More than in any previous time all industrial and productive
power of society, all ingenuity and devotion of men is put into the service of
the war. Gennany, as the aggressive party, set the example; it perfected the air
weapon into bombers that destroyed, with factories of war supplies, the sur-
rounding city quarters. It did not foresee at the time that the steel production
of America many times surpassed that of Germany, so that the system of
destruction, once that America would have transformed its industrial into mil-
itary power, would fall back with multiple vehemence upon Germany itself. In
the first world war much lamenting was heard about Ypres being destroyed and
some French cathedrals damaged; now, first in England and France, and then
on a larger scale in Germany, towns and factory quarters, grand monuments of
architecture, remnants of irretrievable mediaeval beauty, went to rack and ruin.
Week after week the wireless boasted of how many thousands of tons of explo-
sives were thrown upon German towns. As an instrument of terror to bring the
German population upon its knees, or to rouse the desire for peace into resist-
ance to the leaders, these bombardments were a failure. On the contrary,
through the exasperation over the wanton destruction and killings a disheart-
ened population was bound the firmer to its rulers. They rather gave the
impression as if the Allied rulers, sure about their industrial and military supe-
riority, wished to prevent a revolution of the Gernlan people against the nation-
al-socialist rulers which would have led to milder peace conditions, preferring
to beat down German attempts at world power once and for all by a downright
victory.
Besides the material, the spiritual devastation perpetrated among mankind
represents no smaller fall into barbarity. The levelling of all spiritual life, of
speech and writing to one prescribed creed, and the forcible suppression of any
THE WAR 185
different opirllon has grown in and through the war into a complete organiza-
tion of falsehood and cruelty.
Censoring of the press had already proved necessary in former wars to pre-
vent sensational news harmful to the warfare of the country. In later times,
when the entire bourgeoisie felt keenly nationalist and closely bound to the
governnlent, the papers felt it their duty to collaborate with the military author-
ities in upholding morale by optimistic statements, in criticizing and abusing
the enemy, and in influencing the neutral press. But censorship became more
needed than before to suppress resistance on the part of the workers, now that
the war brought a heavier pressure of long hours and of shortness of provi-
sions. \.Vhen propaganda is needed, artificially to rouse in the people enthusi-
asm for war, counter propaganda revealing the capitalist background of the war
cannot be tolerated. So we see in the first world war the press turned into an
organ of the army staff, with the special task to uphold the submissiveness of
the masses, as well as the fighting
In the present war this may still represent the state of things on the Allied
side; but on the other side it is far surpassed by the adaptation to war condi-
tions of the already existing department of propaganda, with its staff of artists,
authors and intellectuals. Now its system of directing opinion, raised to the
utmost perfection and extended over Europe, reveals its full efficiency. By stat-
ing its own case as the case of highest right, truth and morals, by relating every
action of the foe as an act of weakness, or of baseness, or of embarrassment, an
atmosphere of faith and victory is created. It proved itself capable of transfig-
uring the most obvious defeat into a brilliant success, and to represent the
beginning of collapse as the dawning of final victory, and thus to inspire stub-
born fighting and to postpone the final collapse. Not that people accept it all as
truth; they are suspicious of anything they hear; but they see the resolution in
the leaders and feel powerless through lack of organization.
Thus the German masses are the victims of a system growing more violent
and more mendacious as ruin approaches. So the destruction of the power of
German capitalism will be accompanied by the aimless destruction and new
slavery of the German people, not by its rise to a new fight for a new world of
real freedom.
As a destructive catastrophe, the reign of national-socialism passed over
Germany and the surrounding countries. A torrent of organized cruelty and
organized falsehood has flooded Europe. As a poisonous taint they have infect-
ed mind, will and character of the peoples. They are the mark of new dictato-
rial capitalism, and their will long be felt. They are not a chance degen-
eration; they are due to special causes characteristic of the present times.
\.Vhoever recognises as their deepest cause the will of big capital to keep and to
extend its domination over mankind, knows that they will not disappear with
the end of the war. Nationalism excited to red heat everywhere, imputing all
186 WORKERS' COUNCILS
this to the bad racial character of the thereby rousing stronger national
hatred, will always be a fertile soil for new violence, material and spirituaL
The fall into barbarity is not a biological atavism to which mankind might
be subjected at any time. The mechanism of how it came to work lies open to
the view. The reign of falsehood does not mean that what is said and written
is all lies. By emphasising part of the truth and omitting other parts the total
can turn into untruth. Often it is combined with the conviction of its truth on
the part of the speaker. Doubtless, it holds for everybody that what he says is
never the objective, material, all-sided truth, but always truth, a col-
ored personal, one-sided image of reality. Where all these subjective, personal,
hence incomplete, partial truths compete, control and criticise one another, and
where most people thereby are compelled to self-criticism, there arises out of
them a more general aspect which we accept as the nearest approach to objec-
tive truth. If, however, this control is taken away and criticism is made impos-
whilst only one special opinion is put forward, the possibility of objective
truth entirely vanishes. The reign of falsehood finds its essential basic in the
suppression of free speech.
Cruelty in action often is accompanied by ardent devotion to new princi-
that is, irritated by its failure to make progress rapidly enough. In normal
society there is no other way than patient propaganda and the thorough
self-education in working out arguments. If, however, dictatorship gives to the
few power over the many, then, excited by the fear of losing this power, it tries
to obtain its aims through increasing violence. The reign of cruelty finds its
essential basis in the dictatorial power of a minority. If we wish that in the com-
ing times, in the fight of classes and peoples, the downfall into barbarity be pre-
vented, these are the things we must oppose with all energy; dictatorial power
of a small group or party, and suppression or limitation of free speech.
The storm now sweeping over the earth has raised new problems and new
solutions. Besides the spiritual devastation it brought spiritual renovation, new
ideas in economic and social organization, most conspicuous among them ideas
on new forms of suppression, dominance and exploitation. These lessons will
not be lost to world capital; its fight will be more tenacious, its rule stronger by
these new methods. On the other side in the workers a stronger con-
sciousness will dawn of how completely their liberation is bound up with the
opposite factors. Now they feel in the body how much the reign of organized
falsehood hampers them in gaining the simplest inkling of the knowledge they
need, how much the reign of organized terror makes their organization impos-
sible. Stronger than ever before the will and the strength will arise in them to
keep open dle gates to knowledge by fighting for freedom of speech against any
attempt to restrict it; to keep open the gate to class organization by refusing and
repelling any attempt at forcible suppression, in whatever guise of proletarian
interest it may present itself.
THE WAR 187
In this second world war dle workers' movement has fallen much deeper
than in the first. In the first world war its weakness, so sharply in contrast with
former pride and boasting, manifested itscIf in dlat it was dragged along, that
deliberately, by its own will, it followed the bourgeoisie and turned into under-
lings of nationalism. This character persisted in the next quarter of a century,
with its idle talk and party intrigue, though gallant fighting in strikes occurred.
In the present war the working class had no will of its own any more to decide
on what to do; it was already incorporated into the entirety of the nation. As
they are shuffied to and fro over factories and shops, uniformed and drilled,
commanded to the fronts, mixed up with the other classes, all essence of the
former working class has disappeared. The workers have lost dleir class; they
do not exist as a class any more; class-consciousness has been washed away in
the wbolesale submission of all classes under the ideology of big capitaL Their
special class-vocabulary: socialism, community has been adopted by capital for
its dissimilar concepts.
This holds good especially for Central Europe, where in former times the
workers' movement looked more powerful than anywhere else. In the Western
countries there remains a sufficient amount of class feeling soon to find them
back on the road to fight in the transformation of war industry to peace indus-
try. Encumbered, however, with the heavy load of old forms and traditions,
leading to battle in the old forms, it will have some difficulty to find its way to
the new forms of fight. Still, the practical needs of the struggle for existence and
working conditions will, more or less gradually, compel it to put up and clari-
fy the new aims of conquering the mastery over production. Where, however,
dictatorship has reigned and has been destroyed by foreign military power,
there under new conditions of oppression and exploitation, a new working
class must first take its rise. There a new generation will grow up, for whom
the old names and catchwords have no meaning any longer. Certainly, it will
be difficult under foreign domination to keep the class feeling free and pure
nationalism. But with the collapse of so many old conditions and tradi-
tions, the mind will be more open to direct influence of the new realities. Every
doctrine, every device and catchword will be taken, not at its face value, but at
its real content.
More powerful than before, capitalism will tower after the war. But stronger
also the fight of the working masses, sooner or later, will arise over against it.
It is inevitable that in this fight the workers will aim at mastery over the shops,
mastery over production, dominance over society, over labor, over their own
life. The idea of self-rule through workers' councils will take hold of their
minds, the practice of self-rule and workers' councils will determine their
actions. So from the abyss of weakness they will rise to a new unfolding of
power. Thus a new world will be built up. A new era is coming after the war,
not of tranquility and peace, but of constructive class fight.
......I
V. ThePeace
1. TOWARDSNEWWAR
Hardly had Berlin fallen, hardly had the German power been annihilated,
when in the American press well nigh unanimously a new war cry arose, pro-
claiming Russia the new enemy. With all the armies still in the field, a panic of
new war spread over the exhausted tormented world. The new weapon, the
atomic bomb, that had turned into dust two big industrial towns and killed at
one stroke a hundred thousand people, struck terror into the hearts of civilised
mankind and made the Americans realize their own insecurity. "There is no
secret, and there is no defense," was the verdict of the atomic physicists who
had constructed the bomb; in a couple of years every government can have
them made, and they can be carried across the oceans or easily smuggled into
America. An intensive campaign in the "Security Council of the United
Nations" for eliminating the threat was started. America proposed to establish
an international, supernational board or authority, sole master of dangerous
material all over the world, qualified to inspect manufacture in every country.
The Russian Government refused to admit such a committee with such powers
into its territory and demanded that first America should destroy all its atomic
bombs and give up its supremacy.
Why could not the Russian Government agree to an international control?
Russian scientists, speaking for their rulers, said that Russia, the only country
free from capitalism, must keep strictly to its sovereignty, cannot take part in a
capitalist world unity, cannot suffer its socialism to be corrupted by capital-
ist-minded inspecting authorities. One would say that to open up their happier
and progressive way of life to the view of the rest of the world should
propagate their economic system. So the Russian rulers' true reason for shun-
ning a close contact of their subjects with the peoples of freer private capitalism
must be that there is, besides war secrets, too much to conceaL During and
after the war so many more details have come to light about conditions in
Russia: the general low standard of living of the masses, the wide divergence
between low wages of the workers and high salaries of the political and tech-
nical leaders, the concentration camps, where ten or more millions of people
189
190 WORKERS' COUNCILS
are starved and worked to death under the most horrible working conditions.
The existence of this immense army of slave-laborers testifies that besides the
much praised highly technical sector of Russian economy there is a large sec-
tor consisting of unskilled forced labor of the lowest level of productivity. It
means a state economic backwardness, not suspected before beneath the glo-
figures of five-year plans and stackhanovism, an inner weakness
beneath the apparent progress. Whereas organization and skilful planning,
according to either admiring or hostile socialist opinion in the Western world
should imply a higher form of production system, the effect seems to be frus-
trated to a high degree by the secret police, essential instrument of dictatorship,
that ever endangers the security and state of life of any member of the techni-
cal and bureaucratic officialdom.
Russia and America are not only rivals in that they both are in need of the
oil abundance in the Near East. Moreover, Russia has to fear the power of
America. The yearly production of steel in 1945 America was 80 millions
of tons, for Russia (after the fourth five-year plan) 24 millions; for coal these
figures are 575 and 250 millions of tons. This shows the relative industrial
strength, that cannot be compensated by Russia having 170 millions against
America 130 millions of people. And now America transformed its industrial
power into military and political power. This political power finds its ideologi-
cal expression in the call for world-unity. "One world or none" was the panic
cry of the atomic scientists when aghast they saw the consequences of their
work; if this terrible new power is not fettered through international unity, it
will destroy mankind itself. But it stands to reason that in any world organiza-
tion of "united nations" the most powerful will dominate the others. The
Russian rulers fully realize that to consent to the establishment of a superpow-
er with large competencies means subjection under the most powerful of the
associates, under American capitalism. They refuse.
So both prepare for war. Is it inevitable? All we can see and consider is what
deep-seated forces lie at the root of this threat. It is to America in the first place
that we have to turn. Here private capitalism is in full development, here social-
ism is insignificant, practically absent in politics, here planned economy and
State direction of production was only a short-lived war necessity, soon
replaced by free enterprise. All the conditions and phenomena of former free
capitalism in Europe, especially in England and Germany, repeat themselves
here, now on a far bigger scale. In 1923 already American production exceed-
ed that of total Europe; at the beginning of the war, notwithstanding nine mil-
lions of unemployed, it produced more than in any former year. Then during
the war the production increased enormously, as well on account of the greater
number of workers as of a rapid rise in technical productivity; so that, despite
the tremendous production of war materials, it was not necessary to impose
strict limitations on the people's consumption, as was the case in European
THE PEACE 191
countries. War is always a golden time for capitalist profit, because the State,
as buyer, pays willingly the highest prices. In America it was a gold rush as
never before; war profits were not in terms of millions, but of billions dol-
lars. And the end of the war that devastated the production apparatus of
Europe, sees America with a production apparatus more than fifty per cent
larger than at its beginning, with an industrial production twice as large as that
of the rest of the capitalist world. For this increased capacity of output a mar-
ket must be found. This is the problem facing American capitalism.
An inner market might easily be found by giving a larger share to the work-
ing class, thus increasing their buying capacity. But this course, a cutting of
profits, capitalism cannot take. It is convinced that the workers, if they can pro-
vide a fourth-hand car and a refrigerator, are well off and have nothing to
desire. The essence of capital is to make profit.
So foreign markets have to be found. First there is devastated Europe. Its
production apparatus has to be restored by American exports made possible
through big loans. Part of it is already American property, and for what nomi-
nally remains European property heavy interest will have to be paid to
American finance. European economy stands under direct control of American
supervision agents who will see to it that the loans are spent in such a way that
Europe cannot develop into a serious competitor. In Europe American capital
finds a working class with much lower standard of life than that of the
American workers, hence promising bigger profits than at home. But this is
only possible if first of all its labor power is restored by sending as relief gifts
of food, clothes, fuel, to the hungry impoverished peoples. It is investment at
long, promising profits only in the long run. Moreover, it is here confronted
with Russia trying to extend its exploitation system over Central and Western
Europe.
Then there is China, the most promising market for American products.
But here American capitalism has done its very best to spoil its own chances.
In the civil war it supported the capitalist government against the red peasant
armies, with the sole result that the American officers and agents turned away
with disgust from the incapable rapacious Kuomintang rulers; that the peasant
armies could neither be defeated nor win entire power, so that the permanent
civil war brought chaos and prevented recovery. The natural sympathy of
American capitalist rulers towards exploiting classes in other parts of the world,
and its equally class-born hostility against popular movements, makes them
blind to the fact that only out of the latter the basis for strong economic devel-
opment may arise. Thus an entire reversal of policy would be necessary. The
fact that the communist armies are backed by Russia intensifies American
antagonism towards the Chinese people's masses, thus preventing China from
becoming a market for American export.
--1 _________________________________
192 WORKERS' COUNCILS
Then there is Russia, the U.S.S.R., in extension and population a continent
in itself, after the U.S.A., the second realm of the world in industrial develop-
ment under one State government, with immense sources of the most valuable
raw materials, the second gold producer of the world, abounding in fertile land,
with a rapidly increasing population estimated withiIl twenty years to reach up
to 250 millions. It is closed to foreign commerce; an iron wall isolates it from
any foreign influence. American capitalism, so much in need of markets for its
outpouring mass of products can it suffer such a wall to cxist without trying to
break it open? It waged a war for "liberty"; liberty means free commerce and
intercourse allover the world. It is not to be expected from the mightiest capi-
talist class that it should tolerate exclusion from a third part of the industrially
developed world.
Moreover, American capitalists are confident that against the impact of even
peaceful commerce Russian economy will not be able to hold out, but will grad-
ually give way to private ownership. So, apparently, think the Russian rulers;
refuse to expose their skilfully constructed higher organization of planned
economy to the corrupting influences of private capitalism.
Thus the conditions for a deep-seated conflict are given. By its very nature
American private capitalism is, fundamentally, the aggressor; Russian state-cap-
italism has to defend its position. Of course, defense often has to consist in
attacking; in any war preparation each party imputes aggression to the other.
So Russia tries to establish a protecting fringe beyond its borders and tries to
extend its domination over Europe. Moreover, in all capitalist countries it has
an organization of devoted adherents and agents, allured by the revolutionary
traditions of 1917, convinced that organized state-directed economy means
socialism, firm in the expectation of an approaching economic crisis that will
upset the system of private capitalism.
Among economists, too, there is a widespread opinion that world
industry, that especially American industry, is to face a heavy crisis. Its pro-
ductive capacity, its output of products is so large that there is no market it.
So, after the first peace boom supplying the deficiencies of the war years, there
will come a heavy slump, with large unemployment and all its consequences.
Strictly speaking, it is a continuation of the 1930-33 slump, after which no real
recovery until 1940 took place. Then the war provided an enormous market
for a rapidly expanding production, a market never choked because all prod-
ucts were rapidly destroyed. Now that the war is over the capitalist class again
faces the pitiful situation that the world cannot absorb its products. Is it to be
wondered at that once more its thoughts turn to those golden years of high
when death and destruction of uncounted human lives brought in such
a rieh harvest? And that even great parts of the workers, narrow capitalist-
minded as they are, think of that time only as years of high wages and exciting
adventure?
1
THE PEACE 193
War as a market can be partly substituted by war preparation as a market.
Armaments already occupy a notable part of the productive force of Society.
For the budget year 1946-47 America's military budget amounted to 12 bil-
lions of dollars. Compared with an estimated total yearly national product of
180 billions it may not look impressive; but compared with an American peace-
time export of seven billions it gains in importance. The bulk of production is
always destined for home consumption of food, clothes, tools, machinery, etc.;
the fringe of export and extension is the active force that stimulates the entire-
ty of production, increasing the need for productive apparatus and labor
who, in their turn, need cOllllllodities; under capitalism each extra demand
from outside tends to directly and still more indirectly at a much
enhanced rate, the extent of production. The continued demand for war mate-
rials to be destroyed and to be replaeed continually because in a few years they
are superseded by new inventions, may act as a force postponing the impend-
ing industrial crisis.
It is highly questionable, however, whether such a rate of war preparedness
can last indefinitely. Though theoretically it seems possible that two lots of
slave-drivers, practising different methods, but not so very different in deepest
character, when viewing the risks, may prefer to come to terms with one anoth-
er, it does as yet not look probable. The American capitalist knowing that
at the other side of the iron curtain war preparations go on in the same fever-
ish tempo, trusting that at the moment America is the strongest in war technics,
driven by the desire to have the entire world open to intemational trade, believ-
ing in America's mission to make the world into one unity, might in view of the
allurements of war well be expected to overcome its fear of its big cities
turned into dust by atom bombs. And then hell again breaks loose over
mankind.
Is war inevitable? Is not war an anachronism? Why should man, able to
discover atomic processes, not be able to establish world, peace? Those who
pose this question do not know what capitalism means. Can there be world
peace when in Russia millions of slaves are worked to death in concentration
camps, and the entire population lacks freedom? Can there be world peace
when in America the kings of capital keep the entire society in subjection and
exploitation without being faced by any trace of a fight for social freedom?
Where capitalist and capitalist exploitation dominate world peace must
remain a pious wish.
we say that, hence, war is inseparable from capitalism, that war can
only disappear with capitalism itself, this does not mean that war against war
is of no use and that we have to wait till capitalism has been destroyed. It
means that the fight against war is inseparable from fight against capitalism.
War against war can be effective only as part of the workers' class war against
capitalism.
J
I
____
l
194 WORKERS' COUNCILS
If the question is raised whether it is possible to forestall a threatening war,
it is pre-supposed that there is a conflict between government, invested with
power and authority on war and peace, and the masses of the population, espe-
cially the working class. Their voting power is without effect since it works
only on election day; parliaments and Congresses are part of the ruling Power.
So the question comes down to this: Have the workers, and in a wider sense
the people's masses, at the moment of danger the possihility, by other than par-
liamentary means, to enforce their peace"'will upon the war-preparing rulers?
They have. Ifsuch a will actually lives within them, if they are prepared to
stand with resolute conviction for their aim. Their form of fight then consists
in direct mass-actions.
A government, a ruling class cannot go into war with the people unwilling
and resisting. Therefore a moral and intellectual preparation is no less neces-
sary than a technical and organizational preparation. Systematic war propa-
ganda in the press, in broadcasting, in movies, must waken a bellicose spirit
and suppress the instinctive but unorganized spirit of resistance. Hence it is cer-
tain that a decided conscious refusal on the part of the people's masses, demon-
strated in outspoken widely heard protest, can have a determining influence
upon the governmental policy. Such a protest may appear first in mass meet-
ings voting sharp resolutions. More efficient will be the protest if the masses go
into the streets demonstrating; against their ten and hundred thousands all riot
acts and court injunctions are meaningless. And when these are not sufficient,
or are suppressed by military violence, the workers and employees in traffic
and industry can strike. Such a strike is not for wages, but to save society from
utter destruction.
Government and the ruling class will try to break the resistance with all
means of moral and physical suppression. So it will be a hard fight, demanding
sacrifices, steadfastness and endurance. The psychological basis for such fight
is not at once present in full vigour; it needs time to develop, and does so only
under heavy spiritual strain. Since the middle classes always tend to vacillate
between opposite moods, capitalist greed expressing itself in nationalist aggres-
siveness, and fear for destruction, from them stubhorn resistance cannot be
expected. The fight, therefore, takes the character of a class fight, with mass
strikes as its most powerful weapon.
In the 19
th
century the idea of a universal strike at the outbreak of war, as
well as that of a general refusal to take up arms, was propagated, especially by
the anarchists; it was meant as a direct impediment to mobilization and war-
fare. But the power of the working class was far too small at the time. In the
first decade of the 20
th
century, when an imperialist war became ever more
threatening, the question of how to prevent it became urgent among European
socialists. In the German socialist party there were discussions about mass
strikes, and the idea gained ground whether mass actions could be used against
THE PEACE 195
war. But the party-and union-leaders opposed all such actions because they
feared that in that case Government would suppress and annihilate their
riously built-up organizations. They wished to restrict the workers' movement
to parliamentary and trade union action. In 1912, when again war loomed
near, an international peace congress was held at Basle. Under solemn bib-bam
of the bells the delegates entered the cathedral, to listen to fine speeches from
the most prominent leaders on the international unity and brotherhood of the
workers. Part of the delegates wished to discuss ways and means how to
oppose war; they intended to propose resolutions calling up the workers of aU
countries for discussion and mass action. But the presidium said no; no dis-
cussion was allowed. Whereas now the splendid demonstration of unity and
peace-will, it said, would impress and warn the war-mongers, the discussions
exposing our dissensions about the ways of action would encourage the mili-
tarists. Of course, it was just the reverse. The capitalist rulers were not deceived
by this show; they at once sensed the inner weakness and fear; now they knew
they could go on and that the socialist parties would not seriously oppose the
war. So the disaster took its inevitable course. When in 1914, during the last
days ofJuly, working masses demonstrated in the streets of Berlin they felt
uneasy, because the sodalist party failed to give energetical directions; their
calls were drowned in the louder national anthems of the bourgeois youth. The
war started unhampered, with the working class organizations tied firmly to its
Basle had been a symbol, a test, a crossroad. The decision taken there
determined all further events, the four years of murder over Europe, the catas-
trophe of all moral and spiritual progress, and then beyond, Hitlerism and the
second world war. Could it have been otherwise? The Basle result was not
chance, but a consequence of the actual inner state of the workers' movement:
the supremacy of leaders, the docility of the masses. Social developments
depend on the deeper general power relations of the classes. But just as in geog-
raphy small structure details of watersheds determine whether the water flows
to one or to another ocean, so small hardly noticed differences in relative
strength at definite moments may have dedsive effects on the course of events.
If the opposition in the socialist parties had been stronger, more self-confident;
if at the time in the workers the spirit of independent action had been stronger;
if, hence, the Basle congress had been compelled to discussion and thus had
brought more clearness, when the war, surely, would not have been prevented.
But from the onset it would have been crossed by class fights, by internal strife
within each country breaking up national unity, exalting the workers' spirits.
Then the history of the later years, the state of socialism, the relations of the
classes, the conditions of society would have been different.
Now again sodety at large, and the working class especially, stands before
the same question: can the war be prevented? Of course, there are differences;
196 WORKERS' COUNCILS
the)} the bourgeoisie was mostly unaware of tile danger, whereas now it is itself
full of apprehension; then the working class was well organized in a socialist
party proclaiming itself hostile to imperialist policy, and the deadly foe of all
capitalism, whereas present day America shows nothing of the sort. It is not
certain whether this is only weakness. The Russian workers are entirely pow-
erless; they lack the liberties which the American workers enjoy and may use
in their fight: freedom of speech, of press, of discussion, of organization, of
action. So, in any case, it is up to the American working class to decide whether
as obedient instruments they will help to make their capitalist masters all-pow-
erful masters of the world, or whether, by making war against war, they will
enter for the first time into the war against capitalism, for their own freedom.
2. TOVVARDSNEVVSLAVERY
The second world war has devastated Europe. In Germany nearly all towns
have been turned into ruins and rubbish by American bombers, where 60 mil-
lion people, starving and naked, have to live as savages in their holes. In
France, Italy, Holland, Poland, large parts have been devastated in
the same way. More vital still than this visible lack of housing is the destruc-
tion of the production apparatus. Under the industrial system of capitalism the
production apparatus, the factories, machines, traffic are the backbone, the
basis of life. Under primitive, pre-capitalist conditions of simple agriculture the
secures life. Under capitalism-in-ruins agriculture, retrograde as it is, can-
not provide sufficient food for the industrial millions, and ruined industry can-
not provide tools and fertilizers to restore agriculture. So Europe, after the war,
as first and main task, faces the problem of recovery.
Recovery, reconstruction, was the watchword proclaimed and heard every-
where. It meant more than simply reconstruction of the production apparatus,
the construction of new machines, ships, trucks and factories. It meant recon-
struction of the production system, of the system of social relations between
capital and labor, the reconstruction of capitalism. Whereas during the war
ideas arose and were heard of a new world to come after the war, a better world
of harmony, social justice and progress, even of socialism, now it was made
clear that, practically, capitalism and exploitation were to remain the basis of
society. How could it be otherwise? Since during the war the workers acted
only as obedient servants, soldiers to vanquish their masters' enemies, with
never a thought of acting for their own freedom, there can be no question
to-day of any change in the basic principle of society, capitalist exploitation.
This does not mean restoration of old capitalism. It has gone forever.
Conditions have changed. Capitalism is in distress. We are poor. Where pro-
ductive force has been destroyed so thoroughly, it stands to reason that there
must be scarceness of all life necessities. But there is more to it. Poverty is not
THE PEACE 197
equally distributed. As President Truman lately stated, wages had risen less
and profIts had risen more than the prices. The poor are poorer now; tile rich
are richer than before. This is no chance result of temporary conditions. To
grasp its meaning we have to consider the deeper economic basis of the new
social conditions. Formerly, in ordinary times, the gradual renovation of the
productive apparatus at the rate in which it was used up or became antiquat-
ed, took a certain regular percentage of the entire labor of society. Now the
mass destruction demands a mass renovation in a short time. This means that
a larger part of the total labor has to be spent on the production of means of
production, and a smaller part is left for consumption goods. Under capitalism
the means of production are the property of the capitalist class; they are reno-
vated out of the surplus-value. Hence more surplus-value is needed. This
means that a larger share of tile produce has to fall to the capitalist class, a
smaller share to the working class. As capitalist opinion in the middle class lit-
erature expresses it: For recovery of prosperity the first condition is production
of capital, accumulation of profits; high wages are an impediment to rapid
recovery.
Thus the main problem of capitalist policy since the war is how to increase
the surplus-value by depressing the standard of life of the workers.
Automatically this happens already by the steady rise of prices, a consequence
of the continuous issue of paper money under scarcity of goods. So the work-
ers have to fight ever again for increase of the nominal wages, have ever again
to strike, without attaining more than that the wages slowly, at a distance, fol-
low the increasing cost of living. Still there may be a willingness among indi-
vidual employers-in view of the shortness of labor power-to pay more than
the contracted scale of wages; so tile State intervenes in the interest of the entire
capitalist class. First by means of the institute of mediators. These state-appoint-
ed mediators, formerly designated to arbitrate in case of wage disputes, now
have the function of imposing standard wages, maximum wages not to be sur-
passed by any employer. It now happens that in a strike the employer is willing
to pay more wages, but the State forbids it. Or the government proclaims a gen-
eral wage-pegging which, in view of the rising prices, means a continuous low-
ering of life standard. Thus tile strike against individual employers or employ-
ers' unions becomes meaningless; each strike is directed and must be directed
consciously against State power.
Trade unions, too, now acquire a new function. They are directly inter-
posed as officially recognized institutions that negotiate and make treaties, in
the name of the workers, with the governmental and capitalist bodies.
Government gives legal sanction to the decisions of the union; this means that
the workers are bound morally and legally to the contracts made by tile union
leaders considered as their representatives. Formerly it was the workers them-
selves who in their assemblies had to decide on the new working conditions;
198 WORKERS' COUNCILS
they could, by their vote, accept and reject them. Now this semblance of inde-
pendence, of at least formal free decision in bargaining, is taken from them.
What the union leaders in conference with government and capitalists arrange
and agree upon, is considered law for the workers; are not asked, and
should they refuse, all the moral and organizational power of the union is used
to force them into obedience. It is clear that unions as formally self-ruling
organizations of the workers with chosen leaders are far more apt to impose the
new bad working conditions than would be any power institute of the State.
Thus the trade unions are made part of the power apparatus dominating the
working class. The union is the salesman of the labor power of the workers,
and in bargaining in conference with the State oflicials sells it to the employers.
This does not mean, of course, that now the unions and their leaders in
every case consent to the capitalist demands. Thereby their authority would
soon break down, as is actually the case to a certain degree now. Their attitude,
moreover, often depends on political considerations, whether they stand entire-
at the side of the Government, as in England, or are hostile against the
Government, as in France. The trade union leaders in France, belonging to the
C.P., hence agents of the Russian rulers, have not the least interest now to sus-
tain the French capitalist class and its government, as they did some years ago
when they took part in government themselves and stood hostile against the
workers' strikes. Thus the fight of the workers against impoverishment is used
by the political parties as a subordinate means in the struggle between the
Western system of private capitalism and the Russian system of state capital-
Ism.
The problem facing European capitalism, however, has a still wider scope.
It is not only a matter of wages; it is the question whether, after this breakdown
of the economic system, the working masses are willing to rebuild it.
Capitalism knows that "labor only can save us." Hard work and low wages are
the conditions for recovery. Will the workers, who remember the hard life
under capitalist exploitation before the war, consent to a still harder life in
order to restore that state of things? They may, if they can be convinced that it
is for a better world that they now exert themselves, for a world of freedom for
their class, for socialism. Socialism is the magic word able to transform sullen
rebels into ready co-operators.
In broad layers of the middle class the conviction awoke that socialism, in
one way or another, was needed for recovery; in most countries socialist min-
isters took office, socialist and communist parties dominated the parliaments.
In England the slogan read: "Labor only can save us"; a large combined luid-
dIe class and workers' vote gave an overwhelming majority to the Labor Party
that in former governments had shown its capitalist reliability. Where a down-
right capitalist government would have been unable to suppress forcibly the
THE PEACE 199
resistance of the workers and to enforce the new hard living conditions upon
them, a Labor Government was the only escape.
England, indeed, was in a critical condition. The second world war had
exhausted its capital of foreign investments, the interest of which formerly
directed a stream of unpaid consumption goods into the country. Uncle
Shylock had given his generous aid only after his hard-pressed Ally had deliv-
ered most of its assets-notwithstanding the fact that the war essentially had
served to destroy America's most dangerous rival to world domination, a
Germany disposing of the reSOurces of the entire European continent. England
had to give up a large part of its colonies, it could hardly bear the expenses of
playing the part of a Big Power any longer. Also we see the English bourgeoisie
lose its old self-reliant feeling of confidence; its foreign policy, e.g., in the Near
East, shows signs of diffidence. The privileged position formerly occupied by
the British working class, having its share in England's exploitation of the
world, had gone. Now the Labor Party faced the task of clearing the bankrupt
estate.
Socialism, however, was not to be simply make-believe. A good dose of
Socialism was really needed to restore capitalism. Some of the basic industries
of capitalist production, as coal mining and railway traffic, as a consequence of
private ownership encumbered with an entirely antiquated lack of organiza-
tion, constituted a ridiculous muddle of inefficiency. To a well-developed capi-
talist production good organization of such basic branches as coal, steel, traffic,
is just as necessary as that of post and telegraph; so nationalization is a capi-
talist necessity, to which the name socialization is given. Though there is noth-
ing revolutionary in it, former governments were too full of respect for private
enterprise to satisfy those general needs; a "socialist" Labor Government was
needed to establish capitalist efficiency. When now the miners complain that
they find no difference in treatment between the former mine owners and the
new Coal Board they have to consider that the reform was not made for them,
but for capitalism. It was not an attack on capitalist property; the coal mine
shares-of doubtful quality-were replaced by Government Bonds; this manip-
ulation has in no way lessened the exploitation of the workers.
The State has to assume functions in the production apparatus that for-
merly were the domain of private enterprise. This does not mean state-cap-
italism, as in Russia, but only state-directed capitalism, somewhat as it was in
Nazi-Germany. And there are more points of resemblance. Capital is scarce in
post-war Europe, as it was in Germany after the first war. The strictest econo-
my is necessary. No more than under German fascism can it now be left to the
free will of the capitalist class to spill the available national capital by import-
luxuries or materials for dIe production of luxuries. To rebuild the produc-
tion apparatus of the country Government has to take in hand the control and
command of all imports an exports, of all transport of values across the fron-
200 WORKERS' COUNCILS
tiers. International trade then cannot be left to private merchants; the govern-
ments negotiate trade pacts, often strictly bilateral, on quantities comprising the
bulk of food supplies and the industrial produce of the entire country. What
Nazi-Germany introduced as the new totalitarian system of trade is now imi-
tated by all the European States, an emergency measure here, just as it was
there. But the character of the emergency is different; there it was to spare
forces for a new assault toward world conquest, to prepare for world war; here
it is to stave off starvation and revolution, a result of world war. Every gov-
ernment has to import foodstuffs from abroad-grain production in Europe by
deterioration of the soil and lack of hands having dimioished to only half or
two-thirds of its pre-war amount-lest the hungry population should revolt and
bring the C.P. into power. But they must be paid by the export of industrial
products withheld from their own people; or by loans from America, tying
Western Europe with the bonds of debt slavery to the master of the world's
gold.
So the State has a far greater power now than before. It is the consequence
of war destruction. This does not mean, however, that it is a temporary abnor-
mal state of things. Nobody believes that hereafter old private capitalism can
return. The increasing size of enterprises, the interconnection of world econo-
my, the concentration of capital demand planning and organization; though
now and then it needs catastrophes to enforce these tendencies. These post-war
conditions form a transition, an introduction to a new world, the world of
planned capitalism. The State rises as a mighty power above society. It domi-
nates and regulates economic life, it directs planned production, it distributes
food and other life necessities accordiog to its judgment of primary needs, it
distributes the surplus-value produced by the workers among the owners of
capital; it directs more or less even the spiritual food, having distributive power
over the paper needed for the printing of books. In its organization the politi-
cal parties are its bickering office-of-publicity holders, and the trade unions are
part of its bureaucracy. And, most important, the totalitarian State incorporates
the working masses into its social organization as the obedient producers of
value and surplus-value. This is performed by calling planned capitalism by the
name of socialism.
This is not simply usurpation of a name. A simple word, a deceitful name,
has no such power. The name is the expression of a reality. Socialism was the
watchword of the suffering and fighting workers in the past century, the mes-
sage of their liberation, the magic word occupying their hearts and heads. TIley
did not see that it meant only an imperfect liberation, the rule of their leaders
as new masters, disposing over production apparatus and product. Socialism
was the program ,of the leaders and politicians they sent into the parliaments
there to fight capitalism and exploitation. The goal of socialism, after the con-
quest of State power, was the organization of production, planned economy,
THE PEACE 201
transferring the productive apparatus into the hands of the community, repre-
sented by the State. Now that io the 20
th
century capitalism in emergency
needs planned economy, direction and organization of production through
State power, the old slogan of the workers just fits in with the new needs of cap-
italism. What had been the expression of their modest hopes for liberation
becomes the instrument of their ready submission under stronger slavery. All
the traditions of former aspirations, sacrifices, and heroic struggles, binding
socialist workers to their creed and their party and condensed io the name
socialism, now act as fetters laming resistance against the growiog power of the
new capitalism. Instead of clearly seeing the situation and resisting, blindfold-
ed by the dear traditional slogans, they go into the new slavery.
This socialism is for Europe; it is not for America, nor for Russia. It is born
in Europe; it has to save capitalist Europe. Why did Europe succumb into such
utter powerlessness? It has outside Russia, 400 million people, more than the
U.S.A. and the U.S.S.R. together, it is rich in raw materials for industry, rich
io fertile land; it had a highly developed iodustry and a well-instructed popu-
lation disposing of an abundance of capital. Why, then, such a lack of capital-
ist power? Because Europe is divided up in a dozen nationalities, speaking sev-
eral dozens of languages, and so is driven by fierce centuries-old antagonisms
and national hatreds. At the rise of capitalism these nations were the right size
for economic units; now that capitalist efficiency needs larger units, of conti-
nent size, Europe is at a disadvantage against the new powers America and
Russia. Its inner inextioguishable enmities and wars called in those mightier
rivals who trampled it down, physically and economically. What at the end of
the Middle Ages happened to the Italian towns, which had been the birthplaces
of burgher power and early capitalism, but which, tom by their mutual feuds
and hatreds, could not establish a larger national unity, and so were, as battle-
trampled by the French and the Spanish armies and subjected to mighti-
er foreign powers-now happened to Europe on a larger scale. European capi-
talism is now the victim of that nationalism that once was its force. When after
the first world war President Wilson, as the arbiter of Europe, proclaimed the
principle of national self-determioatioll this was the very means to keep Europe
powerless, divided up into a host of independent, mutually fighting parts. It is
quite natural that now socialist politicians propagate the idea of one consoli-
dated socialist Europe; but they are too late; Europe is being partitioned
already into an Eastem and a Westem block. The idea itself of trying to make
socialist Europe a third world power bridliog the aggression of the others,
belongs to the realm of middle class ideology that sees only contending nations,
of continent size now; this ideology means the salvation of European capital-
Ism.
Looking from a general point of view we may say that the development of
the productive forces of society renders inevitable their social organization into
202 WORKERS' COUNCILS
one well-planned entirety. It may take place in two different ways. One is the
way of capital, making State power the directing power of the production, mak-
ing managers appointed from above the commanders of labor. It leads to total-
itarianism in different degrees, the State extending its regulative power over
ever more realms of human and social life. It leads to dictatorship, more or less
camouflaged by parliamentary or sham democratic forms. Such dictatorship
does not necessarily assume the brutal forms we have seen in Germany and
Russia, with an all-powerful secret police keeping all classes in its cruel grip. For
the working class the difference between Western democratic and Eastern dic-
tatorial forms of Government is not essential, economically; in both it is sub-
jected to exploitation by a ruling class of officials that commands production
and distributes the produce. And to stand over against the State as the all-pow-
erful master of the production apparatus, means loss of a good deal of that lim-
ited amount of free action by which it could formerly resist the demands of cap-
ital.
The other way is the way of the working class, seizing social power and
mastery over the production apparatus.
3. TOWARDS NEW FREEDOM
The second world war has inaugurated a new epoch. More than the first
world war it has changed the structure of the capitalist world. Thereby it has
brought a fundamental change in the conditions of the workers' fight for free-
dom. These new conditions the working class has to know, to understand, and
to face. It has, first, to give up illusions. Illusions about its future under capi-
talism, and illusions about an easy way of winning freedom in a better world
of socialism.
In the past century, the first epoch of the workers' movement, the idea of
socialism captured the mind. The workers built up their organizations, politi-
cal parties, as well as trade unions, and attacked and fought capitalism. It was
a fight by means of leaders; parliamentarians as spokesmen did the real fight-
ing, and it was assumed that afterwards politicians and officials should do the
real work of expropriating the capitalists and building up the new socialist
world. Where reformism pervaded the socialist parties it was believed that by
a series of reforms they would gradually mitigate and finally transform capi-
talism into a real commonwealth. Then at the end of the first world war hopes
ran high about a near world revolution led by the communist party. By pro-
claiming strict obedience of the workers towards the leaders under the name of
discipline, this party believed it could beat down capitalism and establish state
socialism. Both parties denounced capitalism, both promised a better world
without exploitation, under their rulership. So millions of workers followed
THE PEACE 203
them, believing they would defeat capitalism and liberate the proletariat from
slavery.
Now these illusions have broken down. First about capitalism. Not a miti-
gated, but an aggravated capitalism faces us. It is the working class that has to
bear the burden of capitalist recovery. So they must fight. Ever again strikes
flare up. Though successful in appearance, they do not succeed in staving off
want and misery. Against the formidable power of capitalism they are too weak
to bring relief.
Not illusions about party communism-such could hardly have existed;
because the c.P. never concealed its intention to establish a despotic rule over
a subordinate working class. This goal stands squarely opposite to the workers'
goal of being free masters of society themselves.
There were, too, illusions about socialism and unions. Now the workers dis-
cover that the organizations they considered as part of themselves stand as a
power against them. Now they see that their leaders, political and union lead-
ers, take side with capital. Their strikes are wild-cat strikes. In England Labor
holds the State office for capitalism-in-need, and the trade unions are inserted
as part of the apparatus of the State. As in the Grimethorpe strike a miner said
to a reporter: "As usual, we are united and everyone is against us."
This, indeed, is the mark of the new time. All the old powers stand against
the workers, driving, sometimes cajoling, mostly denouncing and abusing
them: capitalists, politicians, leaders, officials, the State. They have only them-
selves. But in their fight they are firmly united. More firmly, more unbreakably
than in former contests, their mutual solidarity forging them into one solid
body. Therein lies an indication of the future. To be sure, such small strikes
cannot be more than a protest, a warning, to reveal the mood of the workers.
Solid unity in such small units can be no more than a promise. To exert pres-
sure upon the government they must be mass strikes.
In France and Italy, where the government tried to maintain wage-pegging
without being able to prevent a rise of prices, mass strikes flared up, now
indeed consciously directed against the government; combined with stronger
forms of fight, with shop occupation, seizure by the workers of the offices. It
was not, however, a pure class action of the workers but at the same time a
political manuever in party strife. The strikes were directed by the central com-
mittee of the trade unions (C.G.T.), dominated by the Communist Party, and
had to serve as an action of Russian politics against the Western governments.
Thus from the onset there was an intrinsic weakness in them. The fight against
private capitalism took the form of submission to state capitalism; hence it was
opposed by those who abhorred state capitalist exploitation as a worse condi-
tion. So the workers could not arrive at real class unity; their action could not
display as real massal class action; their great aim of freedom was obscured
through servitude to capitalist party slogans.
204 WORKERS' COUNCILS
The fierce antagonism sprung up at the end of the war between Russia and
the Western powers has changed the attitude of the classes towards Russian
communism. Whereas the Western intellectuals take side with their capitalist
masters against dictatorship, large parts of the workers once more see Russia
as their partner. So the difficulty for the working class to-day is that it is
involved in the struggle of two world powers, both ruling and exploiting them,
both referring to the exploitation on the other side in order to make them obe-
dient adherents. In the Western world the Communist Party, agent of Russian
state capitalism, presents itself as the ally and leader of the workers against
home capitalism. By patient, petty work in the organizations it shoved itself
into the leading administrative places, showing how a well-organized minority
is able to dominate a majority; unlike the socialist leaders bound to their own
capitalism it does not hesitate to put up the most radical demands for the work-
ers, thus to win their favor. In countries where American capitalism retains in
power the most reactionary groups, the C.P. takes the lead of popular move-
ments, as the future master, to make them allies of Russia should they win
dominance. If in America itself the working masses should come to mass
actions against new war, the C.P. will immediately join and try to make the
action a source of spiritual confusion. On the reverse, American capitalism will
not be slow to present itself as the liberator of the enslaved Russian masses,
hereby to claim the adherence of the America workers.
'This is not a chance situation of today. Always capitalist policy consists in
dividing the working class by making it adhere to two opposite capitalist par-
ties. They feel by instinct that in this way the working class is made powerless.
So the more they are alike, two lots of profit-seeking exploiters and office-seek-
ing politicians, the stronger they emphasize their often traditional artificial dif-
ferences into sounding slogans simulating fundamental principles. So it was in
home politics in every country, so it is now in international politics, against the
working class of the world. Should capitalism succeed in establishing "one
world" it certainly would discover the necessity to split into two contending
halves, in order to prevent unity of the workers.
Here the working class needs wisdom. Not solely knowledge of society and
its intricacies, but that intuitive wisdom that is growing out of their plain con-
dition of life, that independence of mind that is based upon the pure principle
of class struggle for freedom. Where both capitalist powers to win the work-
ing masses by their noisy propaganda and thus to divide them, these have to
realize that theirs is the third way, the fight for their own mastery over society.
This fight arises as an extension of their present small attempts of resist-
ance. Up till now they struck separately; when one factory or industry went on
strike the others looked on, apparently uninterested; so they could only worry
the rulers who at most appeased them with small concessions. Once they per-
ceive that the first condition to enforce their demands is mass unity of action
THE PEACE 205
they will begin to raise their class power against State-power. Up till now they
let themselves be directed by capitalist interests. Once they understand that the
other condition, not less primary, is to keep the direction in their own hands
means of their delegates, their strike committees, their workers' councils, and
do not allow any leaders to lead them, they will have entered the road to free-
dom.
What we now witness is the beginning of breakdown of capitalism as an
economic system. Not yet visible over the entire world, but over Europe, where
it took its origin. In England, in Europe, capitalism arose; and like an oil-spot
it extended ever wider over the world. Now in this centre we see it decay, hard-
ening into despotic forms to stave off ruin, showing the now flourishing new
sites, America, Australia, their future.
The beginning of breakdown: what was supposed to be a matter of the
future, the limitedness of the earth as an impediment to further expansion of
capitalism now manifests itself already. The slow increase of world trade since
the first world war indicates the slackening tempo, and the deep crisis of 1930
has not been vanquished by a new prosperity. The slackening at the time did
not enter into the consciousness of man; it could only be made out afterwards
in statistical figures. 'lbday the breakdown is conscious experience; the broad
masses of the people feel it and know it, and in panic try to find a way out.
The breakdown of an economic system: not yet of a social system. The old
dependencies of the classes, the relations of a master and a servant class, the
basic fact of exploitation as yet are in full vigour. Desperate efforts are made to
consolidate them. By transforming the chance economy into planned economy,
by increasing State-despotism, by intensifying the exploitation.
The beginning of breakdown of an old system: not yet the beginning rise
of a new system. The working class is far back, compared to the master class,
in recognizing the changed conditions. Whereas the capitalists are active in
transforming old institutions and adapt them to new functions, the workers
stubbornly adhere to traditional feelings and actions, and try to fight capital by
putting their trust in agents of capitalism, in unions and parties. Surely the wild
strikes are first indications of. new forms of fight. But only when the entire
working class is permeated by the new insight into the significance of self-action
and self-rule, the way to freedom opens out.
The breakdown of capitalism is at the same time the breakdown of the old
socialism. Because socialism now turns out to be a harsher form of capitalism.
Socialism, as inherited from the 19
th
century, was the creed of a social mission
for the leaders and politicians: to transform capitalism into a system of
State-directed economy without exploitation, producing abundance for all. It
was the creed of class struggle for the workers, the belief that by transferring
government into the hands of these socialists they would assure their freedom.
Why did it not happen? Because the casting of a secret vote was too insignifi-
I

206 WORKERS' COUNCILS
cant an effort to count as a real class-fight. Because the socialist politicians
stood single-handed within the entire capitalist fabric of society, against the
immense power of the capitalist class being master of the production apparatus,
with the workers' masses only looking on, expecting them, little squad, to upset
the world. What could they do otherwise than run the affair in the usual way,
and by reforming the worst abuses save their conscience? Now it is seen that
socialism in the sense of State-directed planned economy means state-capital-
ism, and that socialism in the sense of workers' emancipation is only possible
as a new orientation. The new orientation of socialism is self-direction of pro-
duction, self-direction of the class-struggle, by means of workers' councils.
What is called the failure of the working class, alarming many socialists, the
contradiction between the economic breakdown of capitalism and the inability
of the workers to seize power and establish the new order, is no real contra-
diction. Economic changes only gradually produce changes in the mind. The
workers educated in the belief in socialism stand bewildered now that they see
that the very opposite, heavier slavery, is the outcome. To grasp that socialism
and communism now both mean doctrines of enslavement is a hard job. New
orientation needs time; maybe only a new generation will comprehend its full
scope.
At the end of the first world war world revolution seemed ncar; the work-
ing class arose full of hope and expectation that now its old dreams would come
true. But they were dreams of imperfect freedom, they could not be realized.
Now at the end of the second world war only slavery and destruction seem
near; hope is far distant; but, a task, the greater aim of real freedom looms.
More powerful than before, capitalism rises as master of the world. More pow-
erful than before the working class has to rise in its fight for mastery over the
world. More powerful forms of suppression capitalism has found. More pow-
erful forms of fight the working class has to find and use. So this crisis of cap-
italism at the same time will be the start of a new workers' movement.
A century ago, when the workers were a small class of downtrodden help-
less individuals, the call was heard: proletarians of all countries unite! You have
nothing to lose but your chains; you have a world to win. Since then they have
become the largest class; and they have'united; but only imperfectly. Only in
groups, smaller or larger, not yet as one class-unity. Only superficially, in outer
forms, not yet in deep essence. And still they have nothing to lose but their
chains; what else they have they cannot lose by fighting, only by timidly sub-
m i ~ t i n g And the world to be won begins to be perceived dimly. At that time no
clear goal, for which to unite, could be depicted; so their organizations in the
end became tools of capitalism. Now the goal becomes distinct; opposite to the
stronger domination by state-directed planned economy of the new capitalism
stands what Marx called the association of free and equal producers. So the call
for unity must be supplemented by indication of the goal: take the factories and
THE PEACE 207
machines; assert your mastery over the productive apparatus; organize pro-
duction by means of workers' councils.
Further Reading
(Compiled by Robert F. Barsky)
Ackerman, Frank. ed. The Changing Nature 0/ Work. Washington, DC: Island
Press, 1998.
Ahrens, Werner. "Works Councils in the Industrial Provinces: Eight Case
Studies of Relations Belween Management and Production in the
Factory." [Betriebsraete in der industriellen ProvIDZ. Acht Fallstudien
ueber bertriebliche Herrschafts und Produktionsverhaeltnisse.] Sociologia
Ruralis 22.2 (1982), 197-198.
Albeda, Wil. "Between Harmony and Conflict: Industrial Democracy in the
Netherlands:' Annals ofthe American Academy q/Political Social &ience 131
(1977) : 71-82.
"Changing Indusrrial Relations in the Netherlands." Industrial Relations
16.2 (1977) : 133-114.
Albrecht, Sandra L. "Forms of Industrial and Economic Democracy: A
Comparison of Prevailing Approaches!' Mid-American Review 0/Sociology
8.2 (1983) : 43-66.
Altmarm, Norbert, Peter Binkehnarm, and Klaus Dull. "New Forms of
Employment: Managerial Polices and Employee Interests. [Neue
Arbeitsformen, betriebliche Leistungspolitik und Interessen der
Beschaftigten.] Soziale Wett 33.3-1 (1982),440-165.
Altmann, Norbert, and Klaus Dull. "Rationalization and Participation:
Implementation of New lechnologies and Problems of the Work
Councils in the FRG." Economic and Industrial Democracy 11.1 (1990):
111-127.
Antipev, Anatoliy Grigorevich. "Work Group Council in the System of
Collective Administration." [STK v sisteme upravleniya kollektivom.]
Sotsiologicheskie Issledovaniya 16.5 (1989): 70-73.
Anweiler, Oskar. The Soviets: The Russian Pf;Orkers, Peasants, and Soldiers Councilf,
1905-1921. [Die Ratebewegung in Russiand, 1905-1921.} Trans. Ruth
Hein. New York: Pantheon Books, 1975.
Ascher, Abraham. "'Radical' Imperialists Within German Social Democracy,
1912-1918." Political Science fJEarterly 76(4) (1961): 555-575.
Bayat, Assef. Pf;Orkers and Revolution in Iran: a Third Pf;Orld Experience q/ Workersi
Control. London: Zed, 1987.
Balfour, Campbell, ed. Participation in Industry. London: Croom Hehn, 1973.
209
210 WORKERS' COUNCILS
Bellace,JaniceR. "TheEuropeanWorks CouncilDirective: Transnational
InformationandConsultationintheEuropeanUnion." Comparative
LaborLawJounzal18 (1997),325-361.
Bellamy, RichardandDarrowSchecter. Gramsci andtheItalian State. NewYork:
St. Martinis 1993.
Bernstein, Paul, andBonnieBurrow. Training WorkersflrDemocraticManagement:
Findings on the European Experience. Societyfor theStudyofSocial
Problems (SSSP), 1979.
Bertram,Hans. "TransformationProcess: Commissionfor the StudyofSocial
andPolitical Changesinthe NewFederalRepublicofGermany
(KSPW). [1ransfromationsprozesse:DieKommission fur die
Erforschungdes sozialenundpolitischenWandels indenneuen
Bundeslandern (KSPW).l" Diskurs 7.1 (1997) :59-63.
Boekelman,Marinus Antonius M. TheDevelopmentoftheSocial and
PoliticalThoughtofAntonPamlekoek, 1873-1960: FromSocial
Democracyto CouncilCommunism.Thesis, UniversityofToronto,
1980.
Boggs, Carl. "Marxism,PrefigurativeCommunism, andtheProblems of
Workersl ControL" RadicalAmerica 11-12.6-1 (1977-1978),98-122.
Bologua, Sergio. "Class Compositionand theTheoryofthe Partyatthe
OriginoftheWorkers- Councils Movement." Trans. BrunoRamirez.
13 (1972): 4-27.
Bolweg,j.F. "Reflections ontheC.O.P.ExperimentsinParticipation.
[Reflecties rondde C.O.P. experimentenmedezeggenschap.]" Mens en
Onderneming31.1 (1977),45-66
Boreham, Paul, andRichardHall. "TradeUnionStrategyin Contemporary
Capitalism:TheMicroeconomicandMacroeconomicImplications of
PoliticalUnionism." Economic andIndustrialDemocracy 15.3 (1994),
313-353.
Bradley, Keith andAlan Gelb. Cooperation at Work: The Mondragon Experience.
HeinemannEductionalBooks, 1983.
Bricianer, Serge. Pannekoek andthe Workers' Councils. (Pannekoek et les conseils ouvri-
ers.}Trans. MalachyCarroll. SaintLouis:Telos Press, 1978.
Brinton, Maurice. TheBolsheviks and Workers' Control, 1917to 1921, The
andCounter-Revolution. Solidarity, 1970.
Broekmeyer, M.j.,ed. Yugoslav Workersi SelfManagement. Proceedings ifa
sium heldin Amsterdam, 7-9January, 1970. Dordrecht,Reidel, 1970.
FURTHERREADINGS 211
Bronfenbrenner, Kate, ed. Organizingto win: new research on union strategies.
Ithaca: ILRPress, 1998.
Burns,Tony. 'JosephDietzgenandtheHistoryofMarxism." Science &
2002 66(2): 202-227.
Carby-Hall,]. R. Worker Participation in Europe. CroomHelm;Romanand
Littlefield, 1977.
Clegg, Ian. Workersi SelfManagement in Algeria. NewYork: MonthlyReview
Press, 1971.
Coates,Ken, ed., etal. New Worker Co-operatives, SpokesmanBooks, 1976.
Coates, Ken, and10ny'lapham, eds. Workers' Control: A Book ifReadings and
Witnesses}or Workers' Control. MacGibbon& Kee, 1968; Panther, 1970.
Comisso, EllenTurkish. Workersi Control UnderPlan andMarket: Implications if
Yugoslav Selfmanagement. NewHaven, CT:Yale UP, 1979.
Congdon,Tim. "TheEconomics ofIndustrialDemocracy." New Society 34.682
(1975),255-257.
RobertVincent, ed. Introduction. Documentary History ifCommunism
andthe World: From Revolution to Collapse. Trans. RobertV. Daniels.
Hanover: UniversityPress ofNewEnglandPress, 1994.
Danik, Claude. "Tradeunionpolitics." Canadian LaborandEmploymentLaw
Journal5 (1996), 117-121.
Dankabaar, Ben. "NewProductionConcepts,ManagementStrategiesandthe
QyalityofWork." Work, EmploymentandSociety 2.1 (1988):25-50.
deZwaan, Frans H. "AWorks Council. [Een Ondernemingsraad.]"Mens en
Onderneming28.3 (1974),145-162.
"HowWell does the ORWork? [Hoe GoedDoetdeORHet?}" .lWens en
Onderneming28.4 (1974),216-231.
Dolgoff, Sam, ed. The Anarchist Collectives: Workers'SelfManagement in the Spanish
Revolution (1936-1939). FreeLife Editions, 1974.
Einemann,Edgar. Research by the ConcernedflraHuman Future ifWork.
InternationalSociologicalAssociation (ISA), 1986.
Falkner, Gerda. "EuropeanWorks Councils and the MaastrichtSocial
Agreement:Towards a NewPolicyStyle?"JournalifEuropean Public
Policy 3.2 (1996), 192-208.
Fincham, Robin, andGraceZulu. "Works Councils inZambia:The
ImplementationofIndustrialParticipatoryDemocracy." LaborandSociety
5.2 (1980) :171-190.
212 WORKERS' COUNCILS
FirstDilic, Ruza. "OnE. Sicardfs Reflections. [0 RazmisUanjimaE. Skarda.]"
Sociologija sela 12.1 (1974) :92-94.
Fisera, Vladimir, ed. UiOrkers Councils in Czechoslovakia, 1968-9:Documents and
Essays. London:Allison andBusby, 1978.
Frege, CarolaM. "Workers' Commitmentto NewLaborInstitutions:
ComparingUnionMembers inEastandWest Germany." European
JournalqfIndustrialRelations4.1 (1988): 81-101.
Furstenberg, Friedrich. "TheRegulation ofWorkingTimeintheFederal
Republic ofGermany." LaborandSociety 10.2 (1985), 133-150.
- "WestGermanExperiencewithIndustrialDemocracy." Annals qfthe
American Academy qfPolitical andSocial Sczimce 431 (1977) :44-53.
Gerber,JolmPaul,AntonRlnnekoek andthe Socialism qfUiOrkers'
1873-1960. Dordrecht;Boston;Amsterdam: Kluwer Academic;
InternationalInstituteofSocialHistory, 1989.
Gerber,John. "FromLeft Radicalismto CouncilCommunism:Anton
Pannekoekandthe GermanRevolutionaryMarxism." Journal
Contemporary History. 23(2) (1988): 169-189.
Gevers, P. "From the CompanyCouncil...to theWorkers'Council?A
DilemmaThattheBelgianvVorkers MovementMustSolve." [Du con-
seil dientreprise...au conseil des travailleurs?Undilemmeposeaumou-
vementouvrier.]" Recherches Sociologiques 8.2 (1977), 189-210.
Gluckstein, Donny. The western Soviets: workers'councils versusparliament,
1915-1920.London:Bookmarks, 1985.
Gramsci, Antonio. Antonio Gramsci:pre-prison writings. RichardBellamy, ed.
Trans.VirginiaCox. Cambridge: CambridgeUniversityPress, 1994.
Greenberg,Edwards S. "TheConsequences ofWorker Participation: A
ClarificationoftheTheoreticalLiterature." Social Science QyarterlJ 56.2
(1975), 191-209.
Guerin, Daniel. Anarchism. Introduction NoamChomsky. MonthlyReview
Press, 1970.
Hansen,Erik. Marxists andSociety: TheEmergenceofMarxianSocial
Tbeoryinthe Netherlands, 1894-1914.JournalofEuropeanStudies
64(4), 1976: 262-285.
Hassencamp,Alfred, andHansJurgenBieneck.iTechnical and
OrganizationalChanges andDesignofWorkingConditions inthe
FederalRepublic ofGermany." LaborandSociety 8.1 (1983) :39-56.
FURTHERREADINGS 213
Herrigel, Gary. "Works Councils: Consultation, Representationand
CooperationinIndustrialRelations." AmericanJournal qfSociology 102.4
(1997), 1205-1208.
Hethy, Lajos. "PlantLevelParticipationinHungary." Osterreichische Zeitschrffi
forSoziologie 13.1 (1988): 38-49.
HintonJames. The First Shop StewardsfMovement. London: G. Allen & Unwin,
1973.
Horkheimer, Max. "TheAuthoritarian State." Telos 15 (1973): 3-20.
Hovels, BenW. M., andPeterNas. "Works Councilsin theNetherlands:
SomeFindings fromanEmpirical Survey." Netherlands Journal qfSociology
[Sociologia Neerlartdica] 13.2 (1977) :107-124.
"IndustrialDemocracyinEurope: Differences andSimilarities across
Countries andHierarchies." Organization Studies 2.2 (1981), 113-129.
Jacoby, SanfordM. "CurrentProspects for EmployeeRepresentationinthe
U.S.: OldWineinNewBottles?" JournalqfLaborResearch 16.3 (1995),
387-397.
Kalecki, MichaL Socjjalizm,jidnkg'onowanie I wieloletnieplanowanie. [Socialism-fonc-
tioningandlong-runplanning.]JerzyOsiatynski,ed. Trans. BohdanJung.
Oxford: OxfordUniversityPress, 1992.
Kaufman, BruceE andMorrisM. Kleiner, ed. Employee Tepresentation:
Slternatives andFutUre Directions. Madison, WI:IndustrialRelations
ResearchAssociation, 1993.
Kernan, Hans. The DevelopmentqfIndustrialDemocracy in the Netherlands since the
Second World /far: From Garporatism to Co-Counseling?International
SociologicalAssociation (ISA), 1986.
Klandermans, B., andN. Terra. "AWorks Council ConsultsIts Supporters:
TheMobilizationofUnionMembers. [Een centrale ondernemingsraad
raadpleegtzijn achterban: demobilisatievanvakbondsledenvooreen
advies.]" Mens en Onderneming34.5 (1980),392-412.
Kleiner, MorrisM., andYoung-Myon Lee. "Works Councils and
Unionization: Lessons from SouthKorea." IndustrialRelatwTls 36.1
(1997): 1-16.
Kochan, ThomasA., andHarryC. Katz. "CollectiveBargaining,Work
Organization, andWorkerParticpation: thereturnto plantlevel bar-
gaining." LaborLawJoumal34 (1983),524-530.
Kolaja,Jiri. "A YugoslavWorkersiCouncil." Human OrganizatWn20.1 (1961):
27-31.
214 WORKERS'COUNCILS
"NewDataonWorker Self-Administration." AmericanJournalrf'Economics
and Sociology 39.4 (1980),415-417.
Kolaja,JiriThomas. "WOrkersi councils: the 'Yugoslav experience. NewYork: Praeger,
1965.
- "WOrkers' Councils: Ine 'Yugoslav Experience. London:TavistockPublications,
1965.
KoopmanIwema, Agnes M. "Power, MotivationandCodetermination;'
Journal qfSociology [Sociologia.Neerlandica] 19.2 (1983), 199-204.
"Workers' CouncilLaws inGermanyandtheNetherlands. [De
OndernemingsraadinDuitslandenNederland: WetgevingenPraktijk]."
M and 036.4 (1982), 327-347.
Kreissig, Volkmar. Employee Participation and.New Forms qfManagement in East
Germany andRussia. InternationalSociologicalAssociation (ISA), 1998.
- German Unjfication and.New-OldIssues qfIndustrialRelations. International
SociologicalAssociation (ISA), 1994.
Lammers, Cornelis. "Problems andAchievements ofSelfManagementin
Yugoslavia. [Problemenen Prestaties vanhetJoegoslavisch
Zelfbestuur.]" Mens en Maatschappij48 (1973), 139-151.
PaulineL. Meurs, andTonA. Mijs. "DirectandIndirectParticipationin
DutchFirms andHospitals." Organization Studies 8.1 (1987): 25-38.
andAdavanderHoogte. The Role q/DutchEmployersiAssociations with
Respect to Legislation on IndustrialDemocracy. InternationalSociological
Association (ISA), 1986.
Lammers,D.J, J H.T. H.Andriessen, A. A. Mijs, andP. L. Meurs. "Do
WorkerCouncils Havea ChanceinDutchHospitals? [Maakt de
ondernemingsraadinhetNederlandseziekenhuiseenkans?]" Mens en
Onderneming34.2 (1980) :88-104.
Lauc, Ante. "InfluenceoftheWorkingClass andSomeMeans ofIncreasing
WorkingClassInfluence. [Utjecaj RadnickeKlaseI NekiPutovi
PovecanjaUtjecajaRadnickeKlase.]" Sociologfja 14.4 (1972), 625-641.
Lecher, Wolfgang, andStefanRub. "TheConstitutionofEuropeanWorks
Councils: FromInformationForumto SocialActor?" EuropeanJournalq/
IndustrialRelations5.1 (1999): 7-25.
Lecher, Wolfgang, andUlrikeSielingWendeling. "NewDevelopments inthe
DiscussionofCo-DeterminationinEurope." LaborandSociety4.1
:80-98.
FURTHERREADINGS 215
Looise,JanCornelis. "EmployeeRepresentation at the Crossroads:Trade
Unions and Works Councils inChangingIndustrialRelations.
[Werknemersvertegenwoordigingop de tweesprong: Vakbeweging en
vertegenwoordigend overleg inveranderendearbeidsverhoudingen.]"
Dissertation AbstractsInternational50.4 (1989), 624-C.
Looise,JanC.,JanDeLeede, andUlkeVeersma. The Efficts q/'Cltanges in
Organization and "WOrk on "WOrks Councils. InternationalSociological
Association (ISA), 1998.
Majchzakowa, "TheWorkersf Councils inPoland." Archives
Internationales de Sociologie de la Cooperation et du Developpement2 (1957):
146-155.
Mangold, Werner. Aspects qfSocialandRlliticalConsciousness qfGerman Industrial
InternationalSociologicalAssociation (ISA), 1978.
Mapadimeng, SimonM. "WorkplaceRepresentaion through theWorkplace
Forums inContemporarySouthMrica: OpportunitiesandConstraints."
in Transition 29.3-4 (1998): 93-103.
Markey, Ray, andJacquesMonat, eds. Innovation andEmployeeParticipation
1?trough "WOrks Councils: International Case Studies. Brookfield:Ashgate
PublishingCompany, 1997.
Marsden, David ward. "T17est European Developments inIndustrialDemocracy."
InquiryinCreativeSociology8.1 (1980) :1-5.
Matuszak, Grzegorz. "Workers' Opinions aboutthe Reward andPunishment
ofWorkers inanIndustrialEnterprise. [Opiniezalogi 0 wyroznianiuI
karaniu pracwnikoww przedsiebiorstwieprzemyslowym.]"meglad
Sogologiany 33 (1981),321-330.
McGlynn, Clare. "EuropeanWorks Councils: towards industrialdemocra-
cy?" 'Ite IndustrialLawJournal24 (1995) :78-84.
Melman,Seymour. Ajler Capitalism: From Managerialism to Workplace Democracy.
NY: Knopf, 2001.
Miller, Douglas. "TheIndustrialRepresentationofLaborUnionsinthe
FederalRepublicofGermany. [Die betrieiblichePrasenzvon
GewerkschafteninderBunderepublikDeutschland.]" Soziale T17elt 30.3
(1979), 328-353.
MohamedHalfmiS., andSandbrook, Richard. cds. Empoweringpeople: Building
community, civilassociations andlegaliity in Aftica.Toronto: Centrefor Urban
and CommunityStudies, UniversityofToronto. cl993. Proceedings of
anInternationalConferenceofCivilAssociationheldinArusha,
Tanzania,August 1991.
216 WORKERS' COUNCILS
Monat,Jacques. "ParticipationandPolitical Structure." Labor andSociety 8.4
(1983) :371-378.
Mourianx,Rene. "Strategies andEvents: TheFormoftheCGTfrom 1936 to
1968. [Strategies etevenements;laforme delaCGTde 1936 a 1968.]
French ltJlitics andSociety 14.4 (1996); 15-22.
Mulder, Mark. "TheSeizablePower. [De GrijpbareMacht.]" AdaltJlitica 8.2
(1973), 133-152.
Noble, David. America by Design: Science} 1echnology} and the Rise qfCorporate
Capitalism. Nt: Knopf, 1977.
FOrces qfProduction: A SocialHistory qfIndustrialAutomation. NY; Knopf,
1983.
Obradovic,Josip. "DistributionofParticipationintheProcess andthe
MakingofDecisions onThemesLinkedWiththeEconomic
FunctioningofEnterprises. [DistribucijaParticipacijeu Procesu
DonosenjaOdlukanalemamaVezanimuzEkonomsko Poslovanje
Poduzeca.]" Revijaza Sociologiju 2.1 (1972): 15-48.
Obradovic,Josip. "Participation-ResearchResults andTheory. [Participacija-
RezultatiIstrazivanjaITeoretskiModel.]" Revija za Sociologjju 4.1 (1974):
29-54.
Obradovic,Josip. "Workers' Participation: WhoParticipates?" Industrial
Relations 14.1 (1975): 32-44.
Pollert,Anna. LaborMovements in Transjormation inltJst-CommandEconomies.' The
Case qf CentralEastern E-urope. International Sociological Association
(ISA), 1998.
Pontusson,Jonas. "Works Councils: Consultation,Representationand
CooperationinIndustrialRelations." Contemporary Sociology 26.3 (1997),
338-339.
Popovic, Mihailo V. "CantheWorkingClass Control theTotal Process of
Social Reproduction? [Moze Ii radnickaklasa da ovladacelokupnom
drustvenomreprodukcijom?]" SociologjJa 28.1-2Jan-June (1986): 1-10.
Preusche, Evelyn. Worlds Councils in East Germany between Cooperation and Coriflict.
InternationalSociologicalAssociation (ISA), 1994.
Rahnema, Saeed. "Works Councils inIran:ThelllusionofWorkerControl."
Economic andIndustrialDemocracy 13.1 (1992) :69-94.
Rasnic, CarolD. "Germanyisstatutoryworks councils and employeecodeter-
mination: amodelfor theUnitedStates?" Loyola qfLos Angeles
Internationaland Comparative LawJournal14 (1992),275-300.
FURTHERREADINGS 217
Rudolf, Stanislaw. "IntergratingActivities ofthe European Community
RegardingWorkerParticipation Issues (EuropeanCompanyCouncils).
[Dzialania integracyjnewspolnotyeuropejskiej w zakresiepartycypacji
pracowniczej (Europe:iskieZakladowe).] PnegladSocjologiczny 43 (1994),
185-199.
Samuels, WarrenJ. "Reflections ontheIntellectual ContextandSignificance
ofThorsteinVeblen." JournalqfEconomicIssues 29.3 (1995), 915-922.
Sandbrook,Richard, andMohamedHalfani, eds. Empoweringpeople: building
community} civilassociations and legality in Africa:proceedings qfanInternational
Co1!ference if CivilAssociations heldin ArUJha} 1I.mzania) August1.9.91.
Toronto: Centrefor Urbanand CommunityStudies, Universityof
Toronto, 1993.
Scheinecker, Martina. "BetweenPersonnelandManagement.Work
Organization andFlowofInformationamoungMembers ofWorks
Councils. [ZwischenBelegschaftundUnternehmensleitung.
ArbeitsorganisationundInfromationsfluss 1m Betricbsratskollegium.]"
Osterreichische Zeitschrfflfor Soziologle 13.1 (1988) :98-99.
Schnabel, Claus, andJoachimWagner. "IndustrialRelations andTrade
UnionEffects onInnovationin Germany." Labor8.3 (1994),489-503.
Schulten, Thorsten. "TheEuropeanWorks Councils: Prospects for a New
System ofEuropeanIndustrialRelations." EuropeanJournalqfIndustrial
Relations2.3 (1996), 303-324.
Schurer, H. AntonPannekoekand the Origins ofLeninism. SlavonicandEast
European Review41(97) (1963): 327-344.
Shaw,Jo. "Works councils inGermanenterprisesandArticle 119E.G.."
EuropeanLawReview22 (1997), 256-262.
Shipway, Mark. Anti-Parliamentary Communism: TheMovelltentfir Workers' Councils
in Britain} 1.917-45.Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1988.
Sirianni, Carmen. Workers ControlandSocialistDemocracy: the SovietExperience.
London: NLB, 1982.
Smart, D. A. Pannekoek and Gorter'sMarxism. London: Pluto Press, 1978
Stanzani, Claudio. "EuropeanWorkCouncils:TheCriticalAspects of
Participation. [I comitatiaziendalieuropei: aspetticritici diparteci-
pazione.]" Sociologia delLavoro 68 (1998), 219-228.
Stern, Robert N., and NadaZupan.BifOre the Flood: LegalStructure andthe
Practice ifSeffManagernentinaYugoslavian Workers' Council) 1.973-1.98.9.
AmericanSociologicalAssociation (ASA), 1991.
218 WORKERS' COUNCILS
Streech, Wolfgang. "IndustrialCitizenship underRegime Competition:The
Case ofthe EuropeanWorks Councils."Journal qfEuropean Public RJlicy
4.4 (1997), 643-664.
"NeitherEuropeanNorWorks Councils: AReplyto PaulKnutsen."
Economic and Industrial Democracy 18.2 (1997),325-337.
Sturmthal, AdolfFox. Workers Councils: A study 0/ffi&rkplace Organization on Both
Sides 0/the Iron Curtain. Cambridge:HarvardU P, 1964.
Tallard, Michele. Bargaining over New Technology and New Forms 0/Democracy in the
Firm. InternationalSociologicalAssociation (ISA), 1990.
Tanasijevic, Vera, andZivojinKojic. "Qy.antity ofInformationAvailableto
Workers onthe Rights ofWorkers! Conferences. [Obavestenostradnika
rudnika, topioniceI rafinacije bakraBor0 pravimazbora.]" Socroloski
Pregled 10.1-3 (1976): 35-45.
Teulings, A. W. M. "A PoliticalBargainingTheoryofCo-DetemlinationAn
EmpiricalTestfor the DutchSystemofOrganizationalDemocracy."
Organization Studies 8.1 (1987): 1-24.
"RepresentationofWorkers Interestand ConsultationintheDutch
Works Council." Socilogia Neerlandica 5.2 (1970) :80-102
"RepresentingEmployeeInterests: Works Councils and the Rankand
File: RepresentationStrategies andAvoidanceRituals." Economic and
Industrial Democracy 9.2 (1988), 179-195.
H.].L. Voets. "TheFunctionoftheWorks Council. [HetFunctioneren
vandeOndernemingsraad.]"Mens enOnderneming25.2 (1971),
108-119.
Thirnrn, AlfredL. The liaise Promise 0/ Codetermination: The Changing Nature 0/
European ffi&rkers' Participation. Toronto: LexingtonBooks, 1980.
Toth, Andras. "TheInventionofWorks Councils in Hungary." European
Journal ofIndustrial Relations 3.2 (1997), 161-181.
Turner, Lowell. "Works Councils: Consultation, Representation, and
CooperationinIndustrialRelations." Industrial and Labor Relations Review
50.4 (1997), 707-708.
Vanek,Jan. The Economics I?fffi&rkersi Management: A Yugoslav case London:
Allen andUnwin, 1972.
Van derBruggen, A. L. A., and].F. denHertog. "Workers!Participationat
theDepartmentalLevel. [Werkoverlegop afdelingsniveau]." Mens en
Onderneming 30.6 (1976),334-353.
FURTHERREADINGS 219
vanHolle,Roland. "Twenty-Five Years ofWorks CouncilinBelgium.
[VijfentwintigjaarOndernemingsradeninBelgie.]" Mens en Onderneming
28.4 (1974),232-247.
VanHoorn, Th. P., andH. C. Dekker. "SocialReportingata Crossroad?
(Sociale verslaggevingop een tweesprong?]" Mens en Onderneming 31.3
127-199.
Vinogradov, V. Workersi Control Over Production: Past and Present. Moscow:
NovostiPress AgencyPub. House, 1973.
Visser,Jelle. "Works Councils andUnions in the Netherlands: Rivals or
Allies?" Netherlands Journal o/Social Sciences 29.1 (1993): 64-92.
Weston, Syd, andMiguelMartinezLucio. "Trade Unions, Managementand
EuropeanWorks Councils: OpeningPandorafsBox?" International
Journal 0/Human Resource Management 8.6 (1997), 764-779.
Wheeler, Sally. "Works Councils: TowardStakeholding?"Journal 0/Law and
Society 24.1 (1997): 44-64.
Windrnuller,JohnP. "IndustrialDemocracyandIndustrialRelations." Annals
0/the American Academy qfPolitical and Social Science 431 (1977) :22-31.
"PerspectivesinDutchLaborRelations." Mens enOndernenring24.2
(1970), 136-141.
Wirth, DavidA. "TradeUnionRights intheWorkerslState: Polandandthe
ILO." Denver Journal 0/International Law and Policy 13 (1984/1985),
269-282.
PRESS
EDINBURGH LONDON OAKLAND
AK Press AK Press
674-A 23rd Street PO Box 12766
Oakland, CA 94612-1163 Edinburgh, EH8 9YE
USA Scotland
(510) 208-1700 (0131) 555-5165
www.akpress.org www.akuk.com
akpress@akpress.org ak@akedin.demon.uk
The addresses above would be delighted to provide you with the
latest complete AK catalog, featuring several thousand books,
\
pamphlets, zines, audio products, video products, and stylish
apparel published & distributed by AK Press. Alternatively, check
out our websites for the complete catalog, latest news and
updates, events, and secure ordering.