Tuesday, December 3, 2019

Letter: Socialist Industrial Unionism (1959)

Letter to the Editors from the December 1959 issue of the Socialist Standard

To the Editors,

Your principles declare that government, etc. . . . may be converted from an instrument of oppression into the agent of emancipation.

Marx said that the State is the executive committee of the governing class. The Socialist Labour Party wants to abolish the State as such, and without being completely vague about what Socialism is. it has a concrete programme of Socialist Industrial Unionism which it can expound better than I—which is a blueprint for a Socialist Society.

The S.L.P. goes a stage further than S.P.G.B. in clarifying their position—so it strikes me.

On page 87 of the June Socialist Standard you criticise Lenin and Stalin as they were worlds apart from Marx and Engels on the role and function of the working class.

However, Lenin's statement that "If we wait for the people to understand Socialism we shall wait a thousand years." He was an optimist. Socialism—bogus or real—doesn't appeal to "never-had-it-so-gooders." "big heads" self-satisfied "middle-class" workers, ostentatious car-owners, TV addicts, etc.
Yours truly,
J. L. D.
Dunstable, Beds.

Reply:
Our correspondent implies that the Socialist Party of Great Britain has only a vague conception of Socialism. In fact, our object—a social system based upon the common ownership of the means of wealth production and distribution— is a concise definition of Socialism, and one which has stood for the 55 years of our existence. The establishment of Socialism is prevented because the majority of the world's population do not want it: at every election they vote overwhelmingly to continue running society in the interests of the capitalist class. This is done through the State machine—the armed and police forces, judiciary system and so on. which are all controlled by Parliament. Any attempt to bypass this Slate machine is doomed to failure: that is why ". . . a programme of Socialist Industrial Unionism . . ." is futile. Socialism can only be brought into being when the working class understand it and want it and express themselves by sending their delegates to the seats of control over the State machine to carry through the formal process of liquidating capitalism. This will not involve the use of soldiers and policemen to impose Socialism upon an unwilling population—indeed, when Socialism is established, the State and all its oppressive instruments will cease to exist. This is the meaning of the phrase “. . . converted from an instrument of oppression into the agent of emancipation . . ." in Clause 6 of our Declaration of Principles.

It is true that most workers are satisfied with their lot under capitalism. But they were satisfied before they owned a lot of cars and television sets. The 1914-18 war and the depressions which followed did nothing to shake their support of capitalism. The second world war only made them experiment with the Labour Party version of capitalism before swinging back to the Tories. Working class confusion about Socialism has been deepened by the organisations which think, with Lenin, that “ If we wait for the people to understand Socialism we shall wait a thousand years" and have, therefore, asked for support for a programme of capitalist reform which they have called Socialism.

There is no alternative to waiting for the people to understand but the day of enlightenment can be brought nearer if organisations like the Socialist Labour Party stop spreading confusion.
Editorial Committee.

Lloyd George on the trade boom (1959)

Quote from the December 1959 issue of the Socialist Standard
  "The commercial world everywhere is in better heart. There is more enterprise and everything makes the prospect much brighter. I am told, on authority I cannot doubt, that we shall probably see a greater volume of trade this year and next than has ever been witnessed in the history of this country . .  . All indications are that this year's trade will be good, that next year's trade will be better, that the people will be prosperous and that therefore the revenue will show an expansion." 
Lloyd George as Chancellor of the Exchequer in his Budget speech —1910.

Churchill on poverty (1959)

Quote from the December 1959 issue of the Socialist Standard
  "I have often asked myself whether our splendid civilisation really conferred blessings on all classes. Is it really true to say that the poorest man in Scotland is not any happier than the present Hottentot or the poorest Eskimo? I am inclined to think that he is not any happier, but perhaps more unsociable. He is homeless in the heart of great cities; he is hungry in the midst of plenty such as was never seen on earth before and he suffers the privations of the savage with the nerves of civilised man. . . .  To compare the life and lot of the African aboriginal—secure in his abyss of contented degradation, rich in that he lacks everything and wants nothing—with the long nightmare of worry and privation, of dirt and gloom and squalor, lit only by gleams of torturing knowledge and tantalizing hope, which constitutes the lives of so many poor people in England and Scotland, is to feel the grand tremble underfoot.”

Winston Churchill in a speech at Edinburgh
—1910.

50 Years Ago: Liberals and Socialism (1959)

The 50 Years Ago column from the December 1959 issue of the Socialist Standard

Dr. Macnamara, in a strong speech, declared that Radicalism was irrevocably opposed to the principles on which Socialism was based.  — Daily Chronicle (21.10.1909)

#    #    #    #

"The people are beginning to discover that Socialism and social reform are two entirely different things. In this respect I adopt entirely the definition of the two things given by Mr. Balfour in Birmingham in 1907: -
  Socialism has one meaning and one meaning only. Socialism means, and can mean, nothing less, that the community is to take all the means of production into its own hands, and that private enterprise and private property is to come to an end. That is Socialism and nothing else is Socialism.
  Social Reform is when the State, based on private enterprise and based on private property—recognises that the result can only be obtained by respecting private property and encouraging private enterprise, asks men to contribute towards great national, social and public objects. That is social reform.
I contend that our proposals [the Liberal Government's Budget, 1909] fall under the latter description and not under the former.”—Mr. Alexander Ure, the Lord Advocate, quoted in Daily Chronicle (1.10.1909).
[From the December 1909 issue of the Socialist Standard.]

Christmas —the great delusion (1965)

From the December 1965 issue of the Socialist Standard

Christmas, we shall be told again and again during the next few weeks, is for the children. There is, of course, another side to it, represented by the flood of gaudy rubbish which fills the shops, the big campaigns to sell it, and by the tinsel of nonsense with which the whole thing is embellished. This is not so romantic a vision as that of innocent, starry-eyed kiddies hanging their stockings by the chimney—and it suggests that, whatever enjoyment children may get out of it, Christmas is for a few other people as well.

As the City columns, the advertising agencies, and the trade statistics make clear, Christmas is that thing so beloved of a section of the capitalist class—a spending spree. Millions of people save up, perhaps for the entire year, for this one great splash-out. This is the time when savings vanish, bonuses are blued, hire purchase debts cheerfully taken on. These debts have partly replaced the old loan clubs, which used to have their big pay-out at Christmas. In fact, hire-purchase does no more than the clubs—it simply moves the payment date from one part of the year to another, but this is enough to make it one more piece of evidence for those who are trying to prove that we are all so much better off nowadays.

Christmas is responsible for an amazing expansion of the retail market, lasting for about a month at a time when trade would probably otherwise be slack. For example, the sales of one suburban branch of a famous retail chain bound up to around thirty thousand pounds on Saturdays during December; the manager can almost forecast what his sales figure will be for each weekend. These sales are in the established, non-seasonal goods such as clothes, which simply become more hectic during the Christmas rush. There are plenty of other examples, as people determinedly smoke more cigarettes, eat more food, and of course drink more alcohol during the space of a couple of days than they do in a normal week.

Apart from the established trades, there are the seasonal sales, with an appeal confined exclusively to the Christmas period. Christmas crackers, for instance, are being turned out all the year round; even the men who compose those dreadful jokes and mottoes are hard at it months in advance. The result of all this is that about one hundred million crackers are sold at Christmas, some of them abroad.

We must not forget Christmas cards. The first of these was sent in 1843; the idea did not catch on for about twenty years and since then the market has steadily expanded until now something over six hundred million cards, worth about 15 million, are sent each Christmas. This is good business for the firms which make the cards (one of whose executives said a little while ago “We are in the sentiment business”) and for the Post Office, who rake in something like £8 million in postage on the cards, not to mention the extra revenue on Christmas parcels, greetings telegrams, 'phone calls and the rest.

It is anyone’s guess, how much of the spending at Christmas goes in a genuine effort to have, or to give someone else, a good time. A lot of the drinks, presents and smokes are sent as bribes (there is no other words for it) from the directors of one firm to those of another which, they hope, will buy their products. A host of calendars, diaries, packs of cards, are produced as advertising material. Some Christmas cards are sent out by firms as reminders that they are still in business—and magnificent pieces of work some of them are.

Apart from the business world, there is no doubt that a lot of money is spent at Christmas in an effort to impress other people. We have all seen—perhaps some of us have actually received—those Christmas cards which have so obviously been selected with the motive of convincing us that the senders are more wealthy and important than they actually are. We have all read the advertisements which say that no card is really gracious unless it has the senders’ name and address printed on the inside. It is an unpleasant fact that the acquisitive nature of capitalism gives strength to this sort of appeal; for those who fall for it, sending Christmas cards is a highly competitive business, in which a defeat has to smoulder for a whole year before the chance for revenge comes round again.

The fact is that Christmas is in some ways a time for people to show their less attractive side—and for the massed forces of commercialism to cash in on the situation, ruthlessly and to the full, with the only justification they need—in the end they have more profit than if they had not played up to peoples’ snobbery, their insecurity and their distorted conception of the world in which they struggle to live.

In other ways, too, commerce turns the screw at Christmas. A walk around any department store reveals an astounding variety of junk which is being sold at equally astounding prices. There are toys which are dangerous, or which will not last from Christmas to Boxing Day in the hands of any child. There are cakes of soap and bath cubes, stuck in a fancy box and covered in cellophane, selling for much more than their usual price. There is a bewildering mass of tinsel, plastic and coloured paper—and all the time there is the drive to sell, sell, sell for a Merry Christmas.

Yes, this is an enormous, briefly inflated, market; each year the note circulation leaps up to accommodate it. (Last year it increased from £2,583 million in the first week in November to £2,766 million in Christmas week.) The firms which hope to cash in on the boom lay their plans a long time ahead. From the summer months onwards, they are discussing and deciding on their advertising campaigns, their special wrappings and what they like to call their “presentation”. There is always the temptation for them to try to get in first, which they have to resist for fear of opening their campaign too early. But none of them can afford to leave it too late—they have such an awful lot to sell. So it is not uncommon for us to be able to buy Christmas decorations, wrappings, cards and so on in October; and before Guy Fawkes night there are not a few big stores with their Father Christmas, usually an unemployed stage extra, to induce people to buy by working on their children.

Many people complain that the Christmas sales campaign starts too early. But as the market is stimulated to grow, and as it grows, so will the effort to exploit it. This might mean an even longer sales drive in the future—wasn’t there a story about a business man who said that Christmas was good business as long as they kept religion out of it?

He must have been an ungrateful fellow; religion, after all, does him many a good turn. In any case, as we point out elsewhere in this issue, Christmas has nothing to do with Christianity; the Christians simply pinched it to suit their own purposes. What more natural, then, than that the capitalist social system, which is so faithfully supported by Christianity, should itself adopt Christianity’s most important festival for its own ends?

It was the Industrial Revolution which was responsible for reducing the old twelve days’ holiday at Christmas to a single day. The rise of capitalism meant that masses of people sold their working ability to the master class by time—and time spent on holidays was time not spent producing the masters profits in the factory or the mill or the mine. Capitalism, with the help of its religious lackeys, built up a massive condemnation of what it called idleness. And among other things it destroyed the ancient Twelve Days of Christmas.

More recently, capitalism has reduced the opposition to Christmas to a handful. Nobody now holds the opinion expressed in a Puritan pamphlet of 1656, that Christmas was ". . . the old Heathen’s Feasting Day . . . the Papists’ Massing Day, the Superstitious Man’s Idol Day . . . Satan’s That Adversary’s Working Day” but until fairly recently there was a solid, articulate opposition to it. This is now all but silent, as the festival has been blown up into a vast, commercialised orgy of selling and consumption, one of the many working class Festivals of Delusion.

The great Delusion of Christmas is that dormant within us there is the Christmas Spirit—a gentle compound of benevolence, co-operation and goodwill which is roused at this time of year by the appeal of religion. When we are possessed of the Spirit we are wise and generous and loving; if only (says the Delusion) we could keep it up all the year round the problems of the world would be solved. If we would only cast out the Scrooges among us (and we all have our own idea of who Scrooge may be) and live by the Christmas Spirit there will be no more poverty, or war, or oppression.

This is no joke; the Delusion is powerful. It brought both sides out of their trenches to fraternise in No Man’s Land in 1914 (officially, that was the last time they did it). It inspires countless maudlin speeches at office parties and family gatherings. It runs through the entire Queen’s Speech on Christmas Day. It is powerful—and it is dangerous.

For the Delusion fosters the idea that the troubles of capitalism are caused by anything but the essential nature of the system. It promotes the nonsense that the world today is a fearsome, disturbed place because people are bad and that if only people were better the world would be a better place. It encourages people to think in terms of good and bad spirit, when they should be asking themselves why they behave as they do, and why the world is as it is. And as a final irony, the Christmas Delusion even encourages some people to think that there is something inconsistent in the determined way that capitalism exploits Christmas for all it is worth.

To start at the right end of this problem, we should first of all realise that there is nothing essentially wrong (or right, for that matter) with most people. It is the conditions of living and working under capitalism which largely make them what they are. Capitalism is constantly working out ways of exploiting us more efficiently, which means more intensely. It is always pushing us that bit harder, crowding us in that much more, making us into that much more of a cut-throat in the competitive scramble for the better job, the bigger house, the easier money.

In these conditions, people live at an intense pressure. Events which in themselves are trivial—a telephone which rings, a child who behaves like a child—are an intolerable strain. It is only when we relax, when we put aside the worry of making ends meet, when we try to live like human beings, that we begin to get a better perspective on it all. Perhaps this is what a lot of people do at Christmas. Some of them, for a couple of days at any rate, actually succeed, and they put it all down to the Christmas Spirit.

The big laugh about this—if anyone can stand another joke at this time of year—is that if the working class really grasped the implications of this they would take a hard, sober look at capitalism and see it for the wretched way of living that it is. That old chap Scrooge had a word which aptly describes the delusions of capitalism, its cynicism and its hypocrisy. Humbug.
Ivan

Christianity or Socialism (1965)

From the December 1965 issue of the Socialist Standard

This month Christians celebrate the birth of their Christ. It is therefore appropriate once again to examine the Christian religion and its relations to socialism and the working class.

Christianity is a comparatively recent religion but it is thick with the debris of man’s earlier superstitions. The pagan influence on the Christmas festival is especially well marked, for December 25th was a holy day long before Jesus Christ was even thought of. Primitive man worshipped the sun because the course of his life was dominated by the yearly round of that planet in the heavens. This practice was widespread but especially in northern countries mid-December was thought to be a critical time, as the days became shorter and shorter and the sun itself weaker. Great bonfires were lit to give the sun god strength and, when it became apparent that the shortest day had passed, there was great rejoicing. Thus the Roman winter-solstice festival, held on December 25th in connection with the worship of the sun-god Mithra, was known as the birthday of the unconquered sun-god.

December 25th was not generally introduced into the Western Church as Christmas day until the fourth century and it was even later before it was accepted in the Eastern Church. Several Christian sects had previously fancied the 24th or 25th of April as a suitable “holy” period—thus arbitrarily connecting Christ’s birth with the vernal equinox rather than the winter-solstice—while still other factions chose alternative solar festivals. However, St. Chrysostum (5th century) gives a very practical reason why December 25th was to be preferred. “On this day the birthday of Christ was lately fixed at Rome, in order that while the heathens were occupied in their profane ceremonies the Christians might perform their holy rites undisturbed.”

Man's consciousness is a reflection of his material environment. While he was struggling to find his feet in the universe it was understandable that he should interpret phenomena which he could not comprehend in supernatural terms but, in the twentieth century, such irrational relics from the past can be of no value to the working class.

Christians have argued against the materialist conception of history by claiming that the driving force behind the universe is a god’s will and that, while everything else may be subject to change, God and his religion remain constant. Yet the briefest examination of Christ and his theories shows him clearly as a product of his times. For example, he plainly shared the then common belief that disease was due to infestation with demons and he told his followers, “In my name ye shall cast our devils”. Again, religion has always been the willing tool of the ruling class. The church today holds chattel slavery to be immoral. But when Constantine the Great accepted the Christian religion the pope of the time received him with acclamation and no one suggested to him the need to surrender his slaves, of which he held thousands. Similarly the Christians’ god today dutifully reflects the interests of capital. Thus for hundreds of years the popes excommunicated those who put their money out at usury and denied them Christian burial because of this “grievous sin”. Yet, strangely, since Pope Benedict XIV’s condemnation in 1745, God has not moved his spokesmen to breathe one word against this practice.

We are told that the Bible is God’s word. This being the case, his laconic message could not be clearer—“Thou shalt not kill”. The record of the Christian churches in this century alone illustrates that they have never hesitated to take sides in Capitalism’s bloody quarrels. In the first world war the workers were urged to slaughter one another with God on their lips: “God of our Fathers . . . Be thou the rampart of our costs, the frontline of the battlefield”. And in the second world war Christians intoned in harmony with capitalist interests in both Germany and Britain. “You have every reason to say prayers for the Führer. May God preserve him, because we need an eternal Germany.” (Reported in the Daily Mail, May 9th. 1944.)

On the other hand in the Church of England Newspaper, February 23rd, 1940, we find a thoroughly English god rallying under the Union Jack: “It is to the living God therefore we must look for deliverance in the present hour. He it is Who delivered our fathers from the ‘Invincible’ Spanish Armada; He appeared on our behalf in 1914-18; and He will help us now if we call upon Him with a true heart.”

Capitalism is a dirty business, based as it is upon the misery of the majority of mankind. But it is well served by its priesthood, always ready with the facile lie and the glib distortion to endorse the actions of the bourgeoisie and persuade the workers that their present lot is part of some unalterable, God-given system.

Clearly then the Christian religion is a most versatile creed. Is it possible that it could be adapted again to serve the interests of a socialist society? The answer is no, for at all times Christianity and Socialism are contradictory. Socialism involves a rejection of leadership and the determination that the workers themselves must achieve socialism. Conversely? Christianity is rooted in a blind faith in leaders, both worldly and supernatural. The priests urge their flocks to remain servile and reap the blessings of poverty. They say that it is not up to the workers to consider the system which robs them, throws them into unemployment, subjects them to war and disease; that it God’s province. The Bishop of Barcelona orders: “Have confidence in your Bishops, who have received from God the mission of commanding; learn to obey . . . do not change a word of the directives that the Holy Church gives you through the Bishops. Be obedient!”

Again, within capitalist society there is a continual class struggle which can only be abolished by the establishment of a classless society—socialism. But Christians believe that there is a harmony of interests under capitalism. Pope Leo XIII in his Encyclincal on Labour asserted: “If one man hires out to another his strength or his industry, he does this in order to receive in return the means of livelihood, with the intention of acquiring a real right, got merely to his wage, but also to the free disposal of it . . . Socialists . . . strike at the liberty of every wage-earner, for they deprive him of the liberty of disposing of his wages.” The good pope has a point—in that socialism will certainly deprive everyone of the “liberty” of wage-slavery. However, with typical Christian charity (towards the bourgeoisie) he chooses to overlook the fact that under capitalism the workers are forced to sell their labour power to the owners of the means of living. This is not, as the pope suggests, a case of fair exchange but is based upon the appropriation of the surplus value created by the workers by the master class.

Yet there are those who still maintain that Socialism and Christianity can somehow by synthesised, given the right leader as a catalyst. The Labour Party has always taken this line and the so-called Christian Socialist Movement lingers on. desperately trying to create some sort of comprehensible amalgam out of conflicting idealist and materialist theories. Their analysis of capitalism is based upon the contention that it is an “evil” system, rooted in sin. But in their literature we find: “Capitalism has served mankind by accumulating capital, so making large scale production possible and increasing wealth generally . .  .” Thus these Christian gentlemen admit that what they call “sin” and “ evil ” have been of service to man. This inconsistency is the inevitable result of trying to accommodate Christianity and Socialism—the utopian and the scientific.

Christmas is supposed to be a time of good cheer, when the harsh reality of this world is briefly forgotten. But it is impossible to disregard capitalism even at this time of the year. We address our Christmas message to the working class, about to enjoy yet another wretched holiday under capitalism—the system they chose to perpetuate when they voted for the Labour and Tory parties last October. That man of the people, the sanctimonious Harold Wilson, has gone on record as talking of “our quest for the Kingdom of God on earth”. After one year of Labour government the conclusion in inevitable; God and Mr. Wilson are forced to administer capitalism in the interests of the ruling class as ever. But then Mr. Wilson is not a socialist—and neither is God.
John Crump

John Bull's sacred cow (1965)

From the December 1965 issue of the Socialist Standard

It is pathetically easy to poke fun at Royalty. Look at any copy of Private Eye for the yobly kind of satire, or “This England” in the New Statesman for authenticated stories about incidents such as the removal of lavatory signs “to avoid embarrassment” during a royal visit. The trouble with such side-swipes, however, is that they leave the basic nature of the institution unexamined and untouched. (Indeed, for the satire industry to survive it is imperative that this butt of its jokes remains unchanged.)

A more difficult, but also more useful, job is to define the exact position of the Queen and the Royal Family in relation to the rest of society. For until we have an understanding of the total situation, we have neither the ability, nor do we grasp the need, to change the social structure.

The first and most obvious point is that the Royal Family are members of the capitalist class. That is, they own so much wealth, in the form of vast estates, that it is economically unnecessary for them to work. This means, for example, that they can enjoy themselves at Ascot and similar places as often as they please, without having to pinch an afternoon off from the office or to wait for their week of night-shift to come round (Not that most of us could afford to go to Ascot even under these conditions). It also means that, like the rest of the capitalist class, the Royal Family can have the very best of everything without having to worry about the price.

However, the position of the Queen and her family within this ruling class is, of course, quite unique—and in a paradoxical way which her title would not lead us to believe. Whereas some capitalists, when they tire of Cannes and caviar, may wish to turn their unoccupied minds to politics it is expected of Royalty that they should be above this sordid fray. The Duke of Edinburgh will be tolerated when he tells the workers in industry to “pull their finger out” but if he starts giving more specific advice on British Foreign policy he hits the national headlines.

As regards the Queen, too, we may agree with the official statement:
  “In law, she is the head of the executive, an integral part of the legislature . . .  In practice, as a result of a long evolutionary process during which the absolute power of the monarchy has been progressively reduced, the Queen acts only on the advice of her ministers, which she cannot constitutionally ignore. She reigns but she does not rule. The United Kingdom is governed by Her Majesty’s Government in the name of the Queen." (Britain. An Official Handbook, H.M.S.O. 1965.) 
Stripped of its verbiage this means that despite all the traditional bull, the Queen is merely a rubber stamp.

In this respect the Royal Family provide a glaring example of the redundancy and strictly parasitic nature of the capitalist class in general. Not only do they perform no useful social function but they do not even have to defend their own class interests. Most capitalists choose not to go into politics, and a large part of managing capitalism is willingly undertaken by political careerists from the working class.

Ambassadors
Now it has been argued that the Monarchy does perform a useful function on the grounds that a Monarch can create more good-will the world over than a mere president. Philip and Elizabeth, it is said, are worth their weight in gold as unofficial British ambassadors. But what do their lengthy foreign tours, with all their enormous expense, really achieve? Good-will soon gets flattened under the steam-roller of political reality, as numerous conflicts within the Commonwealth have shown. The fact that both India and Pakistan owe some sort of allegiance to the same monarch does not prevent them from tearing each other’s guts out. And even the great love which the Europeans are reputed to have for Her Britannic Majesty could not get Britain into the Common Market.

But even if it is conceded that these ambassadorial missions have a certain measure of success, that the foreigners warm to us and as a result are more inclined to Buy British—what relevance does this have for those of us whose lives are taken up in earning enough to go on living? It simply means that the wealth which we produce but our employers own may be more easily disposed of on the world’s markets —without this necessarily benefiting us in any way. Thus if the Royal Family can be said to have any function at all, it is that of being public relations officers for the British capitalist class. The latter, after all, are the only people who have anything to sell abroad.

Finance
As for the “reward” (one could hardly call it wages) which members of the Royal Family get for going on long holidays and reading an occasion speech, it certainly proves them to be worth their weight in sterling. The Civil List, the amount of money given every year to the Royal Family, is made up as follows:
It would perhaps be more fitting if members of the Royal Family stood up for the rest of the population when the National Anthem is played, to show that they appreciate such benevolence. They are given more every year than most of us earn in a lifetime, and in effect they are guaranteed an annual pools win without even filling in a coupon.

As if this were not enough Sir Charles Petrie, in a bigoted anology for the institution of the monarchv (The Modern British Monarchy), laments that certain ladies of the high aristocracy are not included in the list of annual pensions and are forced to “sell their trinkets at Sotheby’s.” He is quite blind to the fact that most non-aristocratic ladies haven’t got a single trinket they would be able to sell at Sothebv’s, nor will they ever save enough to be able to buy one. In essence his statement contains the same absurdity as one made recently by another Royalist: “The Royal Family are really quite poor, you know. They have so many palaces to maintain.”

A second bogus point which Sir Charles borrows from The Times and uses in his book is that since the Exchequer receives more in taxes from the Royal Family than it pays out for the Civil List, “the nation makes a profit out of the Royal Family.” Here again the argument conveniently ignores one side of the facts. For example, we should hardly feel it was the whole truth to say that the nation makes a profit out of someone like Charles Clore on the grounds that he pays taxes and receives no annual pension. We would conclude, naturally, that he must be receiving from somewhere even larger amounts of money than he pays in taxes. And since he is not a member of the employed class his income must be from shares, interest, property and the like.

Moreover, it is quite wrong to say that taxes are a profit of the “nation" in the sense of the majority of people in the country. The taxes go to the government, which uses them in a variety of ways to support and maintain the capitalist machine.

We can only assume that this is the case with the Royal Family, whose income derives from their vast estates and property. This brings us back to our first point: the Royal Family, with all the special and unique features we have considered, are members of the socially superflous capitalist class. ,

Changing altitude
What, now, of current attitudes to this archaic institution in an archaic form of society? The satire we noted earlier is perhaps symptomatic of a more critical and sceptical view with regard to royalism. Most of us have been caught up in the stampedes out of the cinema at closing time and some circuits have given up playing the National Anthem at all.

Such attitudes are preferable to an unquestioning reverence, but they do not go nearly far enough. They do not point the way to any effective form of action; they amount at most to grudging resentment, and at their most innocuous merely to condescending amusement. This is inevitably the case as long as one institution of capitalism is considered in isolation from the rest of society.

For this reason there is no reason to support republicans, who want to abolish the monarchy in favour of an elected head of state such as a president. Presidents command as much extravagant luxury as kings, and top politicians pig themselves to the same excessive extent as Henry VIII (See the photos of the Lord Mayor’s Banquet any year). In short, as long as there is a ruling and a subject class, the top ranks of society will always enjoy the same order of privileges.

Conclusion
Men have come a long way since they believed that Royal Privilege was divinely given, but they have not yet realised that this and every other kind of privilege rests in the last analysis on the private ownership of the means of life.

When they do realise this and take the necessary steps to establish common ownership of and free access to wealth (and that won’t be until you do), then there will consequently cease to be classes, ranks land/hierarchies in society. There will be no Your Majesties, Your Graces or Your Honours, and any respect which individuals command will be based entirely on their merits as useful Contributors to the worldwide co-operative community.

Finally, to those people who anxiously ask “What would happen to the Queen in socialism?” We can only say this: as we have shown, she would cease to be a queen and a member of the capitalist class. The only person who can give you more information than that is Elizabeth Mountbatten.
Keith Graham

The Passing Show: You and Your Job (1965)

The Passing Show Column from the December 1965 issue of the Socialist Standard

You and Your Job

Have you what is commonly known as a “good job”—one that has “gd. sal. to right person and excel. conds.” as the small ads put it? Even if you can answer yes to this, even if you are one of the more highly paid workers today, it's still a pretty certain bet that you have a struggle to get by at whatever standard of living you are accustomed to and are expected to maintain. And because you are a worker, you will always have to count the pennies at some stage or other before you can have things which you may particularly need. “Consumers choice” is a pretty empty term under these circumstances—the restriction of choice begins in your pocket, not in the shop window.

But accepting that we all live a pretty narrow sort of life with drabness and insecurity in varying degrees according to size of pay packet, what do you really think of your job? By that I mean just what do you think of the work that you have to do, the duties and responsibilities that it entails? If we are again to judge by the small ads columns, there is no such thing as a dull, monotonous, boring job; “interesting work” is always their claim, but they are usually careful to add “gd. hours”, which is a hint of what they really think of the mental attraction of the job. They know that no one will want to stick at it a second longer than necessary and that come knocking-off time, the factory or office will be deserted within minutes. And although many workers do work overtime, it’s not generally out of love for their work, but because of the extra cash.

Before the war, when jobs were scarce, you just had to put up with the monotony and make the best of it, but in a time of labour shortage like the present, this is one (but only one) of the factors which make for frequent job changes, particularly among younger workers. One young man still in his twenties was recently reported as having had some hundreds of jobs since leaving school. Despite the reformer’s prattle about “opportunities for youth”, the essential conditions of capitalism—the division of labour and the worker’s divorce from ownership of the means of production—will throw up this problem more and more as time goes by.

These thoughts are prompted by a small cutting from The Guardian of October 14th. Mr. J. E. Newton, general secretary of the National Union of Tailors and Garment Workers, has drawn attention to this very problem. He thinks that workers are getting less and less satisfaction from their jobs and wants Mr. Brown to set up a ministry of industrial psychology “to find out what workers think of their jobs” and “try to redirect personal interest to the workplace or provide the means for obtaining other satisfactions outside work.” Without wishing to be rude to Mr. Newton, I think we could well be spared yet another government ministry, especially of psychology (what a horrible thought). And why does he want an investigation to find out what he seems pretty certain of already, anyway?

But his other proposal is interesting. I think it suggests that he does not have much hope of workers ever being able to get fulfilment from their jobs. Indeed, he admits by implication that the search for it outside of working hours is here to stay, and of course he’s quite correct. I should say that it will last as long as capitalism; in fact, catering for pastimes and sports has become an industry in itself. Many of us have hobbies of one sort or another and we often work harder at them than we do at our jobs. Others vent their frustrations on old ladies, telephone kiosks and railway carriage upholstery—a particularly ugly trend which is really just the other side of the same coin.


In a Socialist World . . . ?

Yes, you have a right to ask that question. In a Socialist world we would work, but work would take on a new meaning. It would not be synonymous with employment, which is merely the means of getting a living wage, but since it would aim at the full satisfaction of people’s needs, it would be also a way of expressing and developing ourselves to the fullest extent. True we would work to live because that is essential in any society, but we would also live to work. I should think that monotony and frustration would be well-nigh impossible under such conditions, not least of all because the heavy specialisation demanded by capitalism would disappear. And we won’t need any psychologists to try and teach us how to kid ourselves we’re happy when we’re anything but.


An Old Story

My father is an old age pensioner and belongs to the local old age pensioners association. The other day he handed me a copy of Pensioner’s Voice, the official publication of the National Federation of O.A.P. Associations. “We speak for the older generation,” says the caption at top right on the front page, and it’s a good job that somebody speaks for them, but let’s see how effectively Pensioner's Voice manages to do this..

Right off, it denies any political affiliations and claims it has always advised its members to “support any candidate who will support us.” Now that should pose quite a question. After all, you have only the election address and speeches of your candidates to go by and the one who does not promise support for the pensioners must be a rarity indeed. You could of course try eliminating from your support list those who had a poor record on the pensions question, but then that would mean eliminating the lot if you were really honest with yourself.

Actually, I was struck by the naivité of this journal. The National Federation was formed twenty-five years ago and represents millions who have a lifetime’s experience of working class existence behind them. Yet it still puts the view that Parliament is an impartial body—taken as a whole—and that “all the political parties should be willing and anxious to see that justice is done.” Now let us assume you are a pensioner and acted on the Federation’s advice during the last election. Perhaps you voted Labour, in which case on Page 3, you will find the Rev. T. E. Nuttall complaining vide the government’s national plan, that:—
  . . . We cannot find anything in the white paper about the electoral promise on an entirely new policy to provide an adequate income for each pensioner . . .
Pensioner’s Voice has an interesting editorial comment comparing the lot of a £4 a week pensioner with that of a shareholder in I.C.I. It mentions that their £50 millions capital issue in early September was heavily over-subscribed. Not only was this a well written commentary on the glaring inequality that is capitalism, but by this very comparison the writer spotlighted the indignity which is built into working class existence. Yet is there any real questioning of such a world, or even the faintest spark of anger? Not at all. Just a pathetic appeal to put “all hands to the pumps to make his (the pensioner’s) life a bit easier.”

In looking at the pensioner’s movement in Britain over the last few years I have noted this attitude, which runs like a thread through its literature. Always it is an appeal, rather than a demand, for better income and social services. Granted that old workers do not have the same vigour to push their interests as youngsters have, but the really big factor behind their failure is their lack of bargaining power because they are now out of the production line. This is the biggest slap in the face that capitalism gives them.

So to them, the need for Socialism should be of particular interest, and it is especially sad that many of them will die without ever having considered it.


Gaspers 

  “. . . We are under the constant survey of foreign friends . . . Any back sliding on our part, which lays us open to accusations that we are . . . putting social needs before financial responsibility, would very quickly cause the leaves on the plant of confidence to shrivel.” (Lord Cromer, 21/10/65)

   “It is a remarkable thing how in the last quarter of a century the doctrine of Socialism as a way of life . . .  is everywhere, even in Russia, thoroughly discredited.” (Lord Shawcross, ex-Minister in the 1945 Labour Government. 4/11/65)

   “One MP suggested the skinning alive of hanged men and the use of their skulls as beer pots.” (The Guardian, 11/11/65, reporting the debate in the Malawi Parliament on the Penal Code Amendment Bill)
Eddie Critchfield

The Universe (1965)

Book Review from the December 1965 issue of the Socialist Standard

The Fabric of the Heavens by Toulmin and Goodchild, Pelican Books 6s.

This is the first of four books in a connected series entitled The Ancestry' of Science. It is a book of interest to socialists for the authors view of history is akin to the Materialist Conception of History, and they have applied it to the development of astronomy and dynamics, ".  .  . a man can do in his own time only a job which is there to be done; but there may be many different ways in which he can do it.” Although they raise this point with reference to Isaac Newton, their whole work is evidence of this development within history from the Babylonians through to modern times.

They contrast this view of history with the deterministic "the acts of historical drama will follow one another of the same general sequence regardless of what actor takes any particular part” and the concept of the great men who “leap far ahead of their times, forcing thought along genuinely new and creative paths.”

The Babylonians commenced the study of astronomy not merely for religious forecasting—the celestial bodies were regarded as gods, but because within their empire there were many different calendar systems based upon the sun or the moon and “commercial and official business alike called for a more predictable and uniform calendar.” They collected observations over many centuries in order to improve their celestial forecasting, which they did with great accuracy, but apparently without any attempt to explain the sequence of the events they observed.

The Greeks were later to speculate on the causes of what the Babylonians had observed. Greece before 300 B.C. was unlike Babylonia in that it was not an area of order and stability, and it was “a meeting point for different cultures.” This situation led to a minority, often unpopular, making critical speculation concerning nature, politics, religion, etc., a speculation which was to lead to theories, many of which contained ideas to be developed later in Western Europe.

The unification of Greece commenced the decline in the spread of science. The paths of mathematics and astronomy began to diverge, the study of physics declined—“By A.D. 200, astrology had recovered all the ground that it had ever lost, and had effectively displaced rational astrophysics.” The reasons were political, social, economic and religious. This decline had such an effect that the last questions of Ptolemy were the first to be asked by Copernicus some thirteen centuries later, that is after fifteen centuries of Christendom. The authors show that members of the church often critically analysed concepts of the heavens, despite the fact that dogma had to be accepted.

The authors give considerable evidence that the ideas of Copernicus, Galileo, Newton and many others were milestones in the developing understanding of the universe, but assert that their ideas were expected developments from previous knowledge, and arose out of the problems confronting students of astronomy and physics in their times.

Inability to find an adequate explanation of the universe long led men to think “that divine revelation alone could give certainty.” But in the eighteenth century men thought that Newton had revealed “true laws for good. His theories seemed certain, correct, final. Later logical doubts and perplexities began to arise.”

When men solve problems it will often appear that their solutions are final. A problem has been removed, but neither nature nor society remain constant; new problems arise, the study of which extends man's knowledge.

According to the authors “the progress of science always involves a delicate balance between critical observation and speculative theorising — between careful piecemeal investigation of particular problems and imaginative general interpretation of the results obtained."

In capitalist society, in the fields of the natural sciences, it is possible to observe critically, to make speculative imaginative interpretations, but in the social sciences capitalist society, assuming itself to be correct and final, restricts scientific enquiry. Progress in social enquiry is prevented because the class nature of society and its consequences are ignored.

Freedom of enquiry in the natural sciences will continue under capitalist society, and astrophysics will not be an exception, for developments can usually be put to commercial advantage. Enquiry into the social and economic field will be encouraged only if it accepts capitalist society and aids commercial development, for example, market analysis or industrial psychology. Only Socialists can study problems of capitalist society uninhibited with ideas of its permanence. We alone are able to rebut the theories of capitalist social sciences—often from their own evidence. They stand condemned when comparison is made with the advances in the natural sciences in the past two hundred years, from canal to space travel, and yet in the social field the problems of poverty, insecurity, housing, etc., remain.

These problems arise out of the nature of capitalism and cannot be removed until society is changed. When that is done, and Socialism is established, the social sciences will be as free and unrestricted as are the natural sciences in their respective fields of study.
Ken Knight

Editorial: A World To Win (1983)

Editorial from the December 1983 issue of the Socialist Standard

In their bleaker moments, socialists might be excused for decrying social progress as measurable in ideas which move with the speed of glaciers when what is needed is a universal earthquake. Unless there is a sudden, dramatic—and at present unforeseen — change, it will take a long time for the social landscape to be gouged out anew. For socialists do not think in terms of a few minor changes — the withering away of an intellectual copse or a small landslip which might superficially recast some relationships. We aim at a basically different social geology in which life will be thought out anew, on assumptions which the human race has not before needed.

What are the obstacles to such a change? There can be no dispute about its urgency; after a couple of hundred or so years capitalism presents us with a horrifying prospect. Throughout the world, people begin and end their lives under the shadow of repressions which vary between grinding poverty and unmanageable destitution. Denial of full access to the world's wealth is a constant, readily accepted factor, built into the life ambitions of the socially useful people — the world working class. Of course those who are merely impoverished count themselves the lucky ones; they know too well that at the other end of the spectrum capitalism starves tens of millions to death every year. Dying through starvation is slow, painful and degrading; that so many people should so remorselessly be subjected to it is a comment on the priorities of this social system. Then there is the fact that capitalism's first concern, for most of the states of the world, is the production of weapons of war and the organisation of armed forces which now have more than the capacity to paralyse modern society. If (some think when) a nuclear war is fought, what is then left of the world promises to be hardly worth living in. There is no chance that the services which keep working class existence at its present unluxurious level will survive. It has been well said, that life will be so miserable and bewildering that the living will envy the dead — another commentary on what capitalism has done to human beings.

That is an impressive list, particularly for a social system which has been justified on the grounds that it provides a world of rationally-based security and abundance and is. all in all. the best possible society humans can devise. What usefulness capitalism has had in human development has now expired; on the verge of 1984 it is abundantly clear that the system’s social relationships hamper the progress which is now necessary to the human race, perhaps if we are even to survive.

But however strong the case for its abolition, capitalism will not surrender of its own accord. It defends itself in the field of ideas and that is where it must be defeated and where the Socialist Parties of the world operate. Capitalism will be ended, and socialism established, only through the democratic act of a politically aware working class who have come to an understanding of why this must be and what will emerge from it. That means, in other words, through a massive change in ideas.

At present, working class concepts about the social system they support are expressed intermittently at elections but there is also a continuing acceptance of the agencies, the arrangements and the priorities which capitalism needs. Thus workers in the majority support the notion that the production of profit and the accumulation of capital are desirable in themselves. Even when this notion is to some extent modified — for example most workers probably think that, say, hospitals should operate on slightly different priorities than making money — its underlying assumption that to survive things must at least “pay their way” is generally approved of.

On this basis workers accept an enormous range of degrading and restricting provisions in their lives. There is first the fact that very little of the wealth we produce is turned out as the best we are capable of. Food is devitalised, flavoured out of its nature, preserved in chemical brews, portioned and packaged and stacked colourfully onto the supermarket shelves — and millions of people agree that this must be so and that it is good.

The towns we live in feature row upon row of jerry-building, of cramped dwellings which have been jig-sawed into a space whose limits have been set by the cost of the land where they stand. They are filled with characterless, mass-produced furniture and fittings, all chipboard and veneer and do-it-yourself assembled. At the kerbside rests the family car, a wasteful polluter which could have been built to outlive its owner but which in a few years will be fit only for the scrap-heap. And all of this also is accepted as good and necessary because to do things in any other way would not pay — it would jeopardise the profits which accrue to the capitalist class.

From our earliest days, what is miscalled our education is a process of measuring us up to fit ourselves into a moral straitjacket of compliance with our place as wage-slaves — as unquestioning, profit-producing members of the subservient class in society. We are taught to hold our social betters in awe, to look on royalty and aristocracy as superpeople, to grovel in gratitude and admiration of rich and powerful capitalists without whose wisdom, we are taught, the world would be little better than a wilderness. We are instructed that capitalism's family represents the true and immutable human morality, even if it entails a huge distortion of human drives. Happiness within capitalism, then, is an assured place in the exploitation process until death us do part, a mortgaged home where the curtains are neat and the hedges trim, an average family — and it all is to end in an uncomplaining, unmessy death in a poverty untroubled by ambitions about a more humane and satisfying existence.

The acceptance of capitalism's profit-orientated morality leads workers into the most extraordinary acts of self-damage. They willingly place themselves into the police and the armed forces, undergoing training in the most advanced methods of coercion or of destroying homes and killing their fellow workers. They come to this through something called discipline — which capitalism prizes highly — but which is really a form of controlled insanity.

And that is how capitalism will historically be regarded, when the world’s workers have come to consciousness and have overthrown the society which keeps them in subservience and which deprives them of the fruits of their labours. The establishment of socialism will see a new morality in the world, based on the assurance that wealth is to be produced for free human access and full human benefit. Socialism will be a society in which human interests take first place; only in an unavoidable extremity will anything be considered, let alone carried out. which would go against those interests.

We can have that society now. As 1983 comes to a close, with all that has happened in this dismal year alone, one thing is abundantly clear. The working class have only their chains to lose and a world to win.

Monday, December 2, 2019

Marx's Financial Articles (1983)

From the December 1983 issue of the Socialist Standard

In the critique of political economy which became his life work Marx set out, as he put it in the Preface to the first German edition of Capital, to “lay bare the economic law of motion of modern society”. One of his conclusions was that the expansion of production under capitalism did not proceed at a smooth, steady pace, but was “a series of periods of moderate activity, prosperity, overproduction, crisis and stagnation” (Capital Vol I, Pelican, p.58), in which the long-term trend was nevertheless upwards.

The crisis which marked the end of the period of boom took the form of a financial crash—that is, a collapse of credit and a strong demand to be paid in cash. This gave rise to the illusion that the crisis was simply a monetary question whereas in fact the monetary crisis was a reflection of the real overproduction that had taken place.

Overproduction reflected itself as a monetary crisis, since, in the middle of the 19th century, the main form of credit was the trade bill, or bill of exchange, a promise to pay issued by a manufacturer or merchant which would be honoured when he had sold his product. Such bills could be discounted, that is, cashed below their face-value, the precise deduction depending on the going rate of interest (discount rate). In normal times these bills circulated alongside bank notes as an accepted means of payment.

Clearly, if overproduction has taken place, all the bills are not going to be able to be honoured, so that as soon as people realise—or even suspect, with or without reason—that  overproduction has taken place they will no longer be prepared to accept these bills in payment and will insist on cash. Nor will banks be prepared to discount the bills, except at a very high rate of interest. The result is a credit squeeze, high interest rates and a financial crisis.

Marx studied two of these crises in close detail, that of 1847—when just after arriving in London in 1850 he was investigating the relationship between crises and revolution—and that of 1857. In fact, by co-incidence, 1857, besides being a crisis year, also saw the publication of two British parliamentary reports on financial questions: the secret evidence taken by a House of Lords committee which investigated the 1847 crisis and a House of Commons report on the workings of the 1844 Bank Act. Marx replied on these two documents, together with the House of Lords report itself which had been published, without the evidence, in 1848 and a report on the 1857 crisis published in 1858, to write a considerable number of articles for the New York Daily Tribune in 1857 and 1858 as well as to make notes for the section of Volume III of Capital to be devoted to interest-bearing capital. Marx had also frequently written on financial subjects before 1857 for the NYDT, especially when a financial or industrial crisis seemed about to break out. He always commented on the British budget when it was presented to the House of Commons and as early as 1853 had written an article explaining the principles and working of the 1844 Bank Act to his American readers.

Since, in the end, Marx never got round to preparing for publication these notes he made for Capital –they were very scrappy and had to be put into some sort of order by Engels—it is these NYDT articles which must be regarded as expressing in a final form for publication his views on financial crises. Hence these articles are to be regarded as an important complement to Volume III of Capital.

The British banking laws of 1844 and 1845 which Marx analysed in detail were an attempt to put into practice the doctrine of the so-called Currency School. In 1797, at the beginning of the Napoleonic Wars, the convertibility of Bank of England notes into gold had been suspended and was not restored until 1819. As a result of the experience of this period of inconvertibility a controversy arose in the first part of the 19th century over whether or not the number of paper notes issued by banks should be controlled by legislation. The Currency School argued that it ought to be, in order to ensure that the circulation of paper notes conformed to what they believed to be the economic laws governing the circulation of a metallic currency (gold and/or silver). Their opponents, known as the Banking School, denied the need for such control arguing that, as long as the paper notes were ultimately convertible into a fixed amount of gold, the number that would in actual practice circulate would always be governed by the economy’s need for currency. It was thus impossible, in their view, for the number of convertible paper notes to be over-issued since if more were issued that the economy needed the surplus notes would eventually find their way back, one way or another, to the bank that had issued them.

The Currency School based their theory on the views expressed by Ricardo on the circulation of a metallic currency like gold. According to Ricardo, there was a direct causal relationship between the amount of gold in a particular country and the general level of prices prevailing there. When a country had a favourable balance of trade, with exports exceeding imports, there would be an inflow of gold to that country; this increased quantity of gold would lead to an increase in the general price level; exports would therefore tend to fall off and imports to increase; as the balance of trade shifted from favourable to unfavourable so gold would flow out of the country, bringing about a fall in prices again. In other words, according to Ricardo, with a metallic currency the amount of money in circulation was automatically regulated by the flow of gold into and out of a country as its trade balance changed one way or the other. [1]

The Currency School wanted to make the circulation of a paper currency (or rather of a currency composed partly of gold and partly of paper notes) conform to this automatic model described by Ricardo. They thus proposed that the number of notes that could be issued should be tied to the amount of gold in the vaults of the bank that issued them. In 1844 led by the banker Samuel Loyd (later Lord Overstone, 1796-1883) they persuaded the then Tory Prime Minister, Sir Robert Peel, to try to put their so-called currency principle into practice. The Act was piloted through the House of Commons by Peel himself and so is often known as the “Peel Bank Act”. Marx explained its principle and main features in an article published in the NYDT on 24 September 1853:
  It assumes that £14,000,000 of bank notes form the necessary minimum amount of circulation. All notes issued by the Bank of England beyond that amount shall be represented by bullion. Sir Robert Peel imagined he had discovered a self-acting principle for the issue of notes, which would determine with mechanical accuracy the amount of the circulation, and which would increase or diminish it in the precise degree in which the bullion increased or decreased. In order to put this principle into practice, the Bank was divided into two departments, the Issue Department and the Banking Department, the former a mere fabric of notes, the latter the true Bank, receiving the deposits of the State and of the public, paying dividends, discounting bills, advancing loans, and performing in general the business with the public, on the principles of every other banking concern. The Issue Department makes over its notes to the Banking Department to the amount of £14,000,000, plus the amount of bullion in the vaults of the Bank. The Banking Department negotiates those notes with the public. The amount of bullion necessary to cover the notes beyond £14,000,000 remains in the Issue Department, the rest being surrendered to the Banking Department. If the amount of bullion diminish beneath the circulation exceeding £14,000,000, the notes returning to the Banking Department in discharge of its advances, or under the form of deposits, are not reissued nor replaced, but annihilated (Marx-Engels, Collected Works, Vo112, pp.298-9).
Marx regarded the theory of the Currency School as wholly mistaken and described the attempt to apply it through the 1844 Bank Act as a “fiasco” even in Volume I of Capital (Pelican, p.939). His first objection was to their view, derived from Ricardo, that the quantity of money in circulation governed the general level of prices. In his view the relationship was exactly the reverse: that more or less money was in circulation because prices were high or low, (see Volume I of Capital, Chapter III, 2b). In other words, money was essentially only a secondary factor, the amount circulating depending on the needs of the economy as determined by real economic factors such as the prices of the commodities to be traded (reflecting their value, or amount of socially necessary labour-time spent in producing them from start to finish) and the level of productive activity and trade. His views are summed up rather well at the end of his A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy, where he says that Thomas Tooke (1774-1858), who had started out as a partisan of Ricardo’s theory but who later became a leading opponent of the Currency School, was led
  to recognise that the direct correlation between prices and the quantity of currency presupposed by this theory is purely imaginary, that increases or decreases in the amount of currency when the value of precious metals remains constant are always the consequence, never the cause, of price variations, that altogether the circulation of money is merely a secondary movement and that, in addition to serving as a medium of circulation, money performs various other functions in the real process of production (Lawrence & Wishart, 1971, p.186).
Marx had the highest regard for Tooke. He was particularly impressed by his History of Prices from 1792 to the Present Time which appeared between 1823 and 1857. When he wrote that detailed confirmation of the economic law that “prices are thus high or low not because more or less money is in circulation, but there is more or less money in circulation because prices are high or low” was “the only achievement of the post-Ricardian English economists” it was clearly the work of Tooke he mainly had in mind. When Tooke died in 1858 Marx wrote to Engels that the last English economist of any value was dead (letter of 5 March 1858).

Marx’s second objection, based on the empirical research of men like Tooke, was that it was not possible in practice to increase the amount of convertible paper money in circulation beyond what the economy required, as he argued and demonstrated with statistics many times in his NYDT financial articles. The needs of the economy determined the amount of currency in circulation just as much when the currency was gold and convertible notes together as when it was gold alone.

This does not mean that Marx is to be regarded as a member of the Banking School; in fact he criticised people like Tooke for not going beyond the currency question to examine the real economic factors at work. Nor should he be seen as an advocate of the reform of the banking legislation in Britain, even though he knew that this aggravated the monetary crisis phase of the industrial cycle:
  Ignorant and mistaken bank legislation, such as that of 1844-45, can intensify this money crisis. But no kind of bank legislation can eliminate a crisis (Capital, Volume III, Moscow, p.478).
His concern was to show that capitalism was a system that worked according to economic laws which arose from deeper causes than mere monetary reform. A surprisingly large part of Marx’s writings on economics—not just these articles in the NYDT but also his A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy and the notebooks known as the Grundrisse—was devoted to exposing incorrect theories about money. For Marx, the only way to end recurring economic crises was a social revolution as a result of which money would be abolished.

The exact way in which the 1844 Bank Act proved to be a “fiasco” is well described by Engels in an explanatory passage he added to the chapter on “The currency principle and the Bank legislation of 1844” (chapter XXXIV) of Volume III of Capital which he edited after Marx’s death and which was published in 1894:
  the separation of the Bank into two independent departments deprived its management of the possibility of freely utilising its entire available means at critical times, so that situations could arise in which the banking department might be on the verge of bankruptcy while the issue department still had intact several millions in gold and, in addition, its entire 14 million in securities. And this could take place so much more easily since there is a period in almost every crisis when heavy exports of gold take place which must be covered in the main by the metal reserve of the bank. But for every five pounds in gold which then go abroad, the domestic circulation is deprived of a five-pound note, so that the quantity of circulating medium is reduced precisely at a time when the largest quantity is most needed. The Bank Act of 1844 thus directly induces the entire commercial world forthwith to hoard a reserve fund of bank-notes at the outbreak of a crisis; in other words, to accelerate and intensify the crisis. By such artificial intensification of demand for money accommodation, that is, for means of payment, at the decisive moment, and the simultaneous restriction of the supply the Bank Act drives the rate of interest to a hitherto unknown height during a crisis. Hence, instead of eliminating crises, the Act, on the contrary, intensifies them to a point where either the entire industrial world must go to pieces, or else the Bank Act. Both on October 25, 1847, and on November 12, 1857, the crisis reached such a point; the government then lifted the restriction for the Bank in issuing notes by suspending the Act of 1844, and this sufficed in both cases to overcome the crisis. In 1847, the assurance that bank-notes would again be issued for first-class securities sufficed to bring to light the £4 to £5 million of hoarded notes and put them back into circulation; in 1857, the issue of notes exceeding the legal amount reached almost one million, but this lasted only for a very short time (Moscow, pp.542-3).
The Act was suspended for a third time on 11 May 1866 during the crisis of that year by the then Chancellor of the Exchequer, Gladstone. Marx did not analyse this crisis in as much detail as he did those of 1847 and 1857, though he does refer to it in passing in Volume I of Capital (Pelican, pp.822-3) and he did discuss the 1866 suspension in a letter he sent to Collet in 1868 and which the latter published in the Urquhartite journal he edited, the Diplomatic Review (as the Free Press became) under the somewhat misleading title “How Mr Gladstone’s Bank Letter Procured a Loan for Russia” (Gladstone had in the meantime become the Prime Minister).

In Volume III of Capital Marx also argued that the 1844 Act had been deliberately designed to keep interest rates artificially high, so benefiting the financial section of the capitalist class at the expense of the industrial section. He thus regarded the bankers like Lord Overstone and George Norman (1783-1882), who both came in for his harsh comments, as being motivated by self-interest as well as being ignorant of monetary economics. In fact as early as 1850, in their notes for the Revue of Neue Rheinische Zeitung, Marx and Engels had spoken of “the Bank Acts of 1818 and 1844, which strengthened the financial aristocracy” (The Revolutions of 1848, Pelican, pp.305-6).

In case it should be thought that Marx’s remarks can be simply transposed to the modern discussion on money and inflation, we should bear in mind that he was talking about the circulation of a paper currency convertible on demand into a fixed amount of gold. This situation no longer obtains today. All modern currencies are now inconvertible paper money, the laws governing which are quite different—the opposite, in fact, insofar as the quantity issued does directly affect the level of prices rather than vice versa—to those governing the circulation of a metallic currency and a mixed metallic/ convertible paper currency. Marx did have something to say on this also in his A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy and in Capital (chapter III, 2c) where his comments still provide a basis for an analysis of modern inflation as resulting from the over-issue of an inconvertible paper currency.
Adam Buick


[1] A detailed, and very clear, discussion and history of Ricardo's currency theory is to be found in the last section of Marx's A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy on "Theories of the medium of circulation and money".

Apartheid lives (1983)

From the December 1983 issue of the Socialist Standard

The term “apartheid” was not coined when the National Party, after it came to power in 1948, presented its policies in the form of a comprehensive doctrine. As that wily old opportunist. General Smuts, declared during the 1948 General Election: “Room must be found for them (Non-Whites) on the principle of apartheid. It is neither a new word nor a new thing" (South Africa: An Historical Introduction, F. Troup, 1972, p.285).

Indeed, much of what constitutes the bloated corpus of apartheid legislation today can be traced back to the early part of this century after the formation of the Union of South Africa in 1910. For instance, the present-day allocation on paper of 13 per cent of the land to the African majority is based on the 1936 Native Land and Trust Act. This, in turn, built on the crucially important 1913 Native Land Act prohibiting Africans from purchasing land outside the reserves designated for them as part of the strategy to force them into the migrant labour system on which the mines depended — and still depend. Then there are the stringent conditions under which Africans today are allowed to reside in the urban areas of so-called “White” South Africa, conditions laid down in the Urban Areas Act first promulgated in 1923 and amended since. (The 1922 Stallard Commission recommended that “Natives should only be allowed to enter the urban areas to minister to the needs of the white man and should depart therefrom when he ceases so to minister." This is strikingly similar to the view expressed by M. C. Botha, later Minister of Manpower Utilisation, in 1976, that “The basis on which the Bantu is present in the white areas is to sell their labour here and for nothing else".) Such examples, and there are many more, illustrate the historical continuity of Nationalist rule and what one author has described as the "Age of the Generals" preceding it, presided over by the bitter old rivals. Smuts and Hertzog.

Nevertheless, 1948 was a significant watershed in the history of South Africa. The somewhat haphazard racist legislation inherited by the Nationalists was systematically reworked and extended into the rigid and comprehensive structure with which the term “apartheid" is commonly associated. More recently, however, some shifts in policy have occurred which have been interpreted (as, indeed, the "reformist" Botha government would wish to have them interpreted) as suggesting a somewhat more flexible, pragmatic approach on the part of government to apartheid.

But “neo-apartheid" (as some have called it) has clearly disturbed a growing proportion of the all-white electorate. Several developments have fuelled this white reaction. There is the much talked about but rather limited relaxation of "petty apartheid" (which applies to the mixing of races in public places like hotels, restaurants, beaches and parks). There is, too, the erosion of the traditional colour bar restricting skilled work mainly to whites. While most of the legislation that entrenched this colour bar has been scrapped (due to the tremendous shortage of skilled labour that developed with the growth in manufacturing industry after the Second World War) traditional practices are sometimes maintained by closed shop and apprentice agreements with white unions. Finally, there is the constitutional proposal to co-opt the Coloureds (mixed race) and Asians into an expanded (but segregated) electorate which would vote for representatives for a three chamber parliament in which the white chamber would be dominant. The African majority would remain totally excluded on the grounds that they must seek their political emancipation in the ten "ethnic” homelands, four of which have already achieved "independence".

In particular, this proposed change to the constitution has been the subject of intense political debate over the past few years (and a national referendum held last month). In 1982 it precipitated the formation of the ultra-right Conservative Party, led by Dr Andries Treurnicht, as a result of a split within the National Party. Together with the smaller but similarly inclined Herstigte National Party — which likewise broke away from the NP in 1969 — the Conservatives have recently been gaining ground. This will obviously influence how far the government is likely to proceed down the road of "neo-apartheid" as it anxiously surveys its (once massive) support draining away. There is, after all, the precedent of the National Party itself to make the government wary of a political opponent eager to assert its claim to be the true heir to Afrikaner nationalism. In 1934 the “Purified Nationalists" under Malan split from the old Nationalist Party led by Hertzog on account of the latter's fusion with Smuts’ South African Party to form a huge party of the “centre” — the United Party. Yet it took just 14 years for the comparatively small and reorganised National Party to become, with the aid of the sinister Afrikaner Broederbond, the government of South Africa in 1948.

Thus the so called monolith of Afrikaner nationalism is, once again, visibly cracking under the strain of conflicting views. At issue is not whether the apartheid system ought to continue but the form it should take in the circumstances prevailing today. According to the Johannesburg Financial Mail, the difference between Botha and Treurnicht is that “The first is seeking an accommodation with certain blacks — but only on white terms; the second is contemptuous of such an accommodation — it is seen as weak” (Apartheid: The Facts, p.51).

This attempt on the part of the Botha government to accommodate a black elite is a key component of what it has called its “total strategy”. This strategy — a hint of the close links that have been forged under Botha between the military top brass and their political counterparts — is based on the realisation that it will take more than the military might of the state to counter the threats to the apartheid regime. In the words of the 1977 White Paper on Defence and Armaments Production, "The resolution of a conflict in the times in which we live demands inter-dependent and co-ordinated action in all fields — military, psychological, political, sociological." (Apartheid: The Facts p.68). What prompted this new approach was, partly, the events in Mozambique, Angola and Zimbabwe which swept away the cordon sanitaire of Portuguese colonialism and Ian Smith's Rhodesia, making South Africa more vulnerable to guerrilla insurgency; partly, the rising resistance to apartheid within South Africa itself which culminated in the riots on the streets of Soweto in 1976; and partly the growing international pressure against apartheid during the seventies.

It is against this background, therefore, that the Government has sought to woo the urbanised black elite by modifying certain aspects of apartheid. The aim of this, according to Patrick Laurence (Guardian 22 November 1978) is to build "a buffer between the white elite and the relatively impoverished black masses, and thereby transfer a racial struggle between white and black into an ideological one between capitalism and marxism". For the majority of blacks, however, there has been little change and indeed in some respects there has been a deterioration. The number of arrests for passbook violations in 1982, for example, exceeded 200,000 — a 90 per cent increase since 1981. For all the talk of reform, the traditional pattern of apartheid — its draconian pass laws and the deportation of "superfluous" people to the desperate poverty of the Homelands — is still remarkably resilient.

With hindsight it is easy to see how wildly over-optimistic was Lord Milner's observation in the last century that “Two wholly antagonistic systems, a medieval race oligarchy and a modern industrial state" could not exist permanently side by side. The emergence of capitalism in South Africa did not, in some mechanistic fashion, erode the racist outlook of a hitherto pastoral Boer community. On the contrary, the latter was successfully and insidiously grafted onto this emerging capitalism — above all in the mining industry whose white union is still today a bastion of staunch conservatism and racist bigotry.

On the other hand, it does not follow at all that apartheid and capitalism are inextricably intertwined and that the struggle against apartheid is thus intrinsically "anti-capitalist". Yet clearly it would suit the government very well if this was widely accepted. It could then better mobilise the support of the comparatively privileged section of the black population (as Laurence suggests) against the supposed “marxist" threat to the South African "way of life”. It could also more easily tar its liberal critics with the "communist" brush as it has long tried to do.

But the plain fact is that the overwhelming majority of apartheid’s opponents are not opposed to capitalism as such. While some elements within the black nationalist camp (in particular within the banned African National Congress) adopt the terminology of socialist revolution, their goal is the discredited leninist one of state capitalism. Yet even this misrepresentation of the socialist objective seems to attract little support: a recent report of the Buthelezi Commission estimated that a resounding majority of more than five to one blacks preferred private enterprise to state ownership (New Society, 13 May 1982). The paradoxically strong support the "socialistic” ANC enjoys, particularly amongst urban blacks, is not because of any leanings it may have towards “socialism” but rather the result of its militant opposition to apartheid.

The workers of South Africa must look beneath the skin deep changes that apartheid’s demise can at best offer. It is towards their own emancipation as a class that they must turn their eyes. The impressive growth of independent non-racial trade unionism since the early seventies is a tribute to the courage of many thousands of black and white workers but also a hopeful indication of what can be done even in a climate as repressive as South Africa’s.
Robin Cox

Running Commentary: Defeat at Greenham (1983)

The Running Commentary Column from the December 1983 issue of the Socialist Standard

Defeat at Greenham

Unless, under Heseltine's Law, any of them chooses to rush the fences and get themselves shot, the Greenham Common demonstrators are now reduced to watching despondently as the American transport 'planes drop into the base with their cargoes of cruise missiles.

The protests have been inspired by sincerity and concern for what may be left of the future of the human race but that is not enough. Their first objective was to prevent the base being set up. It was set up. Then they tried to stop the missiles coming. The missiles came. Then they declared an intention of preventing the missiles becoming operational. The missiles have been set in working order, ready to fly off and do their deadly, obliterating work.

Between the protesters and their objectives stood the forces of the state, which erected the fences and the wire and stationed the police and the soldiers who were ordered, if there should be no other way. to shoot the intruding demonstrators. The Greenham women joined together and protested on the assumption that they could defeat the state machine by hanging dolls and baby clothes on the fences, by breaking through the wire, by daubing the ’planes, by getting themselves arrested. They were wrong; the state is still there, intact in its intention to protect the base with its murderous implements.

Greenham Common is only the latest example in capitalism’s history to illustrate the futility of challenging the state machine through anything less than a policy of socialism. The state has survived many such assaults on it, some of them more popular than the anti-nuclear movement is at present. This survival happens because — as was clearly demonstrated at the last election — the working class would have it so. Capitalism, with its state and military agencies, does not exist through the will of people like Michael Heseltine but through the support it receives from the very people who are damaged and destroyed by it.

This vital fact has yet to make any impact on members of CND many of whom, although hating the effects of capitalism, ardently support the system through organisations like the Labour Party, Communist Party and the Liberal/SDP Alliance. The Greenham demonstrators may feel more cheerful if they realise that they can learn from their dismal, wasted experience. There is a way to defeat capitalism, to end state coercion, to abolish war and all its weaponry. It is a matter of getting it right, of grasping the need for social revolution above doomed efforts to reform capitalism — and then working for it.

For that, there is no need to get shot, either.


Smug about poverty

Any smugness in the Labour Party at the news that working class conditions under the Thatcher government have worsened dramatically was, like the announcement of Mark Twain’s death, rather premature. According to a recent report by the Department of Health and Social Security, there are now 15 million people living in what is officially defined as poverty, compared to 11.5 million in 1979. It will help in understanding these figures to remember that the official poverty line is based on the level of Supplementary Benefit, which tells only part of the story.

Especially hard hit are families with a lot of children and one-parent families. The increases are largely due to the rise in unemployment, which is steadily changing workers' everyday poverty into deep deprivation, at times outright starvation. And all of this after nearly five years of Tory rule, which was going to usher in a new age of monetarist prosperity. Should the Labour Party, then, feel smug and justified? Did the voters make a big mistake in preferring Thatcher to a Labour government?

The facts say otherwise. Under the last Labour government — which was a great disappointment to the whole poverty lobby — unemployment doubled to 1½ million. Unemployment benefit became worth less in relation to average earnings and when it ran out, after 12 months, the new system of means-tested Supplementary Benefit which Labour introduced ensured that the claimants were worse off than before. Meanwhile, according to the Royal Commission on the Distribution of Income and Wealth, under Labour the richest ten per cent had their share of wealth increased from 57.5 to 60 per cent.

And that was only the beginning; Labour's policies in response to the gathering slump paved the way for Thatcher and Howe and Lawson. It was the Tories' bad luck to come into power at such a time in world capitalism (although it does not yet seem to have done them much harm) and they have sturdily carried on where Labour left off.

So there is really nothing to choose, except in terms of trivial detail, between the two of them. The mistake the working class made in 1979 and again this year was not in choosing between Labour and Tory but in failing to make the election a choice between the parties of capitalism and a new social system.


Full board

In deepest Cambridgeshire, a recently formed company is applying for planning permission to build a large fallout shelter — which does not mean, Reagan and Andropov will be pleased to hear, that such formalities will be needed before the bombs and missiles are loosed off.

A place in the shelter — the company-calls itself Phoenix and wants to build all over the country — will cost about £2000 for each person. This price covers what is known in the holiday trade as Full Board; the shelters will have water for 14 days and food for six months. Like any good seaside guest house, they will also provide a car park for the patrons, although there are probably no plans to issue tickets for reclaiming the vehicles after the nuclear holocaust.

But when the holiday is over, or the food and water run out, the guests will have to emerge into a landscape which will not necessarily persuade them that they did the right thing by so carefully staying alive. And being well fed and watered, they may be seen as an unexpected food source by any demented people who have survived on the surface.

The prospect of nuclear war is its own particular madness. Is it really possible, at a time when human life is blighted by so much impoverishment, that so vast an amount of energy, knowledge and resources can be given to wiping us out? Even worse — that the enterprise can be given so high a priority in the allocation of resources?

And the answer, of course, is yes it is perfectly possible, even consistent, once we accept the basic premise of the social system we live under, whose priority is to protect the interests of the world ruling class. Beside that the welfare of the rest — who are the useful, working, productive majority — is of little account. It is to protect the interests of the ruling class that wars are fought and arsenals of incredible power are laid down. In the event of their being used, the best that the majority can hope for is to buy a place in a fragile shelter. In death, as in life, the ruling class assert their privilege.