Meetings, Lectures, etc. (1939)

Party News from the January 1939 issue of the Socialist Standard

Analysis of Society. I. Interests. (1916)

From the October 1916 issue of the Socialist Standard

The analysis of society is the logical continuation of the analysis of wealth. The problems which the nature of modern wealth presents ramify into all social relations and are reflected in all phases of social thought. Economic science is valuable in that it illuminates the conditions on which society rests, and thus provides the key to an understanding of its history, but it is by no means complete in itself. Thought must be translated into action, and it is when we come to the practical as distinct from the theoretical solution of the problems in question that we become impressed with the conservatism of existing institutions and find it necessary to discover some instrument for their overthrow. Prior to this, however, we must examine the exact nature of these institutions and their relation to their economic basis.

To commence with the last first, in considering the nature of the units of wealth, i.e., commodities, we arrived at the conclusion that the relations between them resulted from their mutual relations to an outside element, the human race. Only in so far as they were, all alike, products of human labour, was any meaning discovered in their exchangeability and the process of their existence generally. So in examining the relations between the units of society, let us pursue a similar method. We see already that they mutually enter into relations with outside elements, the various forms of matter which they convert (or have converted) into articles of use.

This is no mere whim on their part, but a matter of necessity. Human life is a material process demanding the continual absorption of matter and the use of the objects of the material world on an ever-expanding and more varied scale. From the simple process of digestion to the complex operations of the brain all human functions are material and presuppose objects either for the supply of energy or as a means for its exercise. The most idealistic of philosophers have never yet shown us how to live without eating, and living includes thinking, as a matter of course.

Human beings, then, have this in common—they are part of the process of organic evolution and, as such, have definite interests in the world around them. In pursuing these interests they enter into relations with one another, and according to the nature of these interests and the circumstances of their satisfaction so the social relations between them take their form.

Simple association in pre-historic times was a heritage from pre-human ancestors, and appears to be a feature common to the existence of all the higher mammals. Its basis was the quest for food and the necessity for mutual protection and assistance, and so long as the hunting and fishing (or, as an alternative, arboreal) mode of living continued this primitive tribal harmony was preserved. By degrees, however, it was destroyed by the domestication of animals and the discovery and development of agriculture, which claimed more intense application of effort and paved the way to slavery and conquest. Class rule was established, and as the mode of production has developed so has one class given way to another whose methods of exploitation were more up-to-date.

To-day antagonism is the most obvious characteristic of material interests. One and all must purchase their wants, “be they of the stomach or of the fancy,” and must therefore be first possessed of money. This implies, again, that they have made a sale of some commodity or other. Thus all persons come to be owners of commodities and appear now at one pole, now at the other, of the commercial magnet. They are continually opposed to one another as buyers and sellers.

Our economic investigation showed these opponents to be divided into two classes—the sellers of labour-power and the venders of all other commodities. These latter are also the buyers of labour-power since the commodities in which they deal are only produced by the action of labour-power on raw materials. We also saw that their object in purchasing labour-power is to obtain the surplus over and above its own maintenance which it is capable of producing, and further that this process is only possible because the owners of labour-power are destitute of any other commodity or means of production and subsistence.

Now if, as we have seen, wealth in its various forms constitutes the basis of social relations, then the ownership of wealth determines the nature of these relations. Capital is the ownership of the social means of production and subsistence by a small class. It forms the pivot on which modern society turns, and consequently all social relations to-day take the form of an antagonism between two classes, of opposite interests, i.e , capitalists and wage-earners, In place of the primitive free association for the satisfaction of common interests we have the compulsory subjection of one set of human beings and their interests to another set.

This division of interests in society is reflected in the constitution of the individual. Thus the average wage-slave, in order to secure the satisfaction of his stomach, enters a factory, office, or other stronghold of robbery, to perform tasks against which, more often than not, his brain and senses revolt, albeit somewhat blindly.

The greater portion of his energy is spent in producing value for which he receives no return. So far as he is concerned it is wasted and his life curtailed by just so much. With his wages he purchases the necessities of his commodity-existence, which are on the average no more than will enable him to perform his task to the satisfaction of his purchaser. If the nature of his employment demands that he shall wear “respectable” clothes, then his screw is adapted to this condition ; if not, well, he considers himself lucky to get any clothes at all. If extreme muscular energy is required of him, then he can afford to indulge in quantities of food which would make the dyspeptic clerk green with other things than envy ; but his expenditure must be limited in other directions. Everywhere we see that the standard of “living” of the various sections of the working class is restricted to the level which will enable them to subsist “economically,” that is, as producers of value for the expansion and development of capital. They are not credited with possessing “higher interests,” with the exception of those termed “spiritual.” For reasons which will be explained later it pays the capitalist class to encourage these. Even his meagre economic wants are at the best inadequately satisfied. His food is adulterated, his clothes consist of shoddy, and his house is jerry-built.

For a scientific appreciation of nature the wage-worker has neither the energy, time, nor means to spare. For artistic enthusiasm in his labour and its products he has no inclination. The essential conditions of genuine science and art are freedom and the power to express oneself, which implies possession of the means for doing it. In the capitalist process of production the individual worker is a passive factor. It is not he who uses the instruments of labour but rather these instruments which use him on behalf of their owners. Incidentally he keeps his body moving after the style of an automaton, but only at the expense of his emotional and intellectual nature.

It is not, however, only the workers whose natures are rent asunder and who suffer loss of individuality. The capitalist himself, for all the luxury of his existence, is at the mercy of the system which creates him. His emancipation from the necessity to labour reduces him to an economically meaningless position. The means of production which he controls are social in character and do not provide him, their owner, with any outlet for his energies. His only function is to accumulate. To spend his wealth is beyond him, and if he ever tries, a la Carnegie, soon gives it up as a bad job. The best he can do is to indulge in insensate extravagance. His most exact science is a knowledge of his accounts. His highest art is the multifarious one of cheating and gambling in the commercial and financial sphere. Any other “science and art” he buys, as he buys labour-power, to augment or display his wealth. Showy advertisements of his goods, mechanical contrivances for reducing wages and increasing profits, pompous mansions with a retinue of flunkeys, public libraries crammed with unintelligent technicalities and the dull prejudices of the bourgeois mind—these are the fruits of his patronage. He calls himself a self-made man, but his words and actions proclaim him the creature of his money.

This is well shown by his never-ceasing fear of revolution. So much is the capitalist the embodiment of capital that he cannot conceive himself existing under any other social order than the present one. Change for him can only mean extinction, so he clings in morbid frenzy to every institution or idea which supports things as they are.

If the wage-earner has yet to learn to live and be a man the capitalist, on the other hand, has got beyond that stage. His day is passing. Rotten product of a rotten system, he has lost the possibility of manhood, and dissolution alone awaits him and his class.

To the Socialist worker revolution is the breath of hope which inspires him to learn and endure until his class is ready for the task ; and his spare time and energy are readily given to assist his fellows to learn likewise. In order to satisfy their mutual interests they must dispossess the capitalist class of the ownership of the social means of subsistence and must convert these into the common property of society.

Present-day society is not the first to be characterised by division into classes with opposing interests any more than capital is the first form of private property. Other social systems based on other property relations have preceded it.

Primitive society was, as already hinted, communistic on a narrow scale. The unit of tribal organisation was the gens or clan, a group of kinsfolk which controlled economic affairs in the mutual interests of its members. Slavery and conquest, which were the outcome of agricultural development, put an end to this relation of equality. Slaves were prisoners of war or tribesmen who had fallen under economic obligations to their fellows. As private property increased in magnitude and importance, so the originally equal tribesmen became divided into rich and poor. There were, therefore, in the first civilised society at least three distinct classes, viz., slave-owners, slaves, and freemen who did not possess slaves.

The process of conquest, with its motive of territorial acquisition, broke up the independence of the local tribal communities and laid the foundations of Feudalism. The essential feature of this system was the military tenure of land. Freemen became divided into lords and vassals ; slaves were converted into agricultural serfs or chartered freemen privileged to carry on handicrafts. Here we have a regular hierarchy of classes whose rival interests made the history of the Middle Ages.

The collapse of Feudalism and its supersession by the existing order have been briefly described in a previous article. Sufficient has been said to enable us to contrast Capitalism with previous social orders. In the societies just described class divisions were numerous and complex, whereas to-day we are faced with one simple line of demarcation, i.e., the possession of capital. To-day there are but two really distinct classes.

When the feudal aristocrats supplanted the local patricians, when again, later on, the capitalists overthrew them in turn, they simply substituted one form of class rule for another. Beneath the revolutionary class in each instance there existed the workers whose exploitation has formed the basis of all civilised societies.

When the workers overthrow their present masters they will end the last of the ruling, exploiting classes. By abolishing private property in the means of life they will eliminate the cause of hostile interests and class rule. In emancipating themselves they will free and unite humanity.

Their task, however, demands knowledge. At present their minds still hold the numbing superstitions with which their masters feed them. To criticise the mentality of capitalism is, therefore, our next concern.

Eric Boden

Analysis of Wealth. IV. Accumulation. (1916)

From the September 1916 issue of the Socialist Standard

Link to Part 3.

Capital is an accumulation of surplus-value. Whatever the original capital with which capitalist production started may have been it has long since disappeared, consumed by the capitalist class.

Likewise with the individual upstart. Even if we grant that by “his own exertions” he becomes possessed of a sum of money, this sum does not become capital until he uses it to exploit labour-power. As this process continues his capital comes to consist of accumulated surplus-value, while his original sum disappears in consumption.

Other things remaining the same the accumulation of capital implies an increase in the demand for labour-power ; for capital, in order to remain itself, must grow by the exploitation of ever more labour-power. This in itself gives rise to an increase in the rate of wages, since in the course of time the demand must tend to outstrip the supply as provided by normal increase in the labouring population.

Capital, however, is by no means satisfied with this state of affairs. It sees in the natural limits of population a limit to the rapidity of its own growth. Hence as we have shown in a former article, it exhibits a historical tendency to force on the productivity of social labour by specialisation of individual functions and by the introduction of machinery. Thus it wrings from a given quantity of labour-power a larger proportion of surplus-value. Therefore, along with the accumulation of capital goes an alteration in what Marx calls its technical composition. Its constant portion, i.e., that invested in the passive factors of the labour process, increases at the expense of the variable element which purchases labour-power.

This enables production to be carried on on an ever-increasing scale without the demand for labour-power increasing sufficiently to cause a rise in its price. On the contrary it reduces the demand for labour-power to such a point as to cause a permanent over-supply of workers ; in other words, it creates an industrial reserve army—the unemployed.

The larger the scale on which an individual capitalist does business the more he is enabled to economise and reduce the number of his employees in proportion to work done. The cheaper, therefore, can he sell his commodities (since they embody less labour) and the keener becomes his competition against his rivals. They in turn are forced to economise and to and “extend the scale of their operations as rapidly as possible. In the long run the large capitals become larger while small ones get absorbed or wiped out ; for the market soon refuses to bear the increased weight of goods supplied by this acceleration of production. This centralisation of capital causes further economy and increases the industrial reserve army.

Thus in the process of accumulation we observe on the one hand a tendency to increase the productivity of labour and on the other hand a contraction of the market for its products, seeing that the growth of the unemployed lessens the demand for commodities, both on their part and on the part of those actually employed whose places they are ever ready to take.

These two forces act and re-act on each other to an increasing extent. The competition of the unemployed forces the actual workers to submit to the lowest wages and the maximum amount of work. This increases the accumulation of capital, which in turn intensifies competition among the capitalists for the market, causing further economies and more unemployed.

At one end of the social scale, then, we have the concentration of capital in fewer hands and consequent luxury and idleness ; at the other end, absence of all wealth other than than necessary to secure the workers’ continued existence in a state of overwork, coupled with a deadweight of destitute wretches denied even that questionable privilege. This state of affairs arises inevitably from the very nature of capitalist production, and its special features are aggravated with every step in capitalist progress. Even the statistics compiled by capitalist authorities, governmental and otherwise, bear out this conclusion.

So far we have examined only the growth of capital. It remains for us to consider its origin and destiny. Assuming on the one hand a class with the means of production and on the other a class without these means it is easily seen that the former can exploit the latter to an ever-increasing degree.

The question arises, however, as to how this relationship was established. Orthodox economists and other apologists for things as they are assure us that it is solely due to the virtues of the possessors and the vices of the proletariat. If by virtue we mean work, however, we have already seen that the accumulation of capital by no means bears out this fairy tale. At present and for centuries the workers with all their toil have been unable to accumulate. If the capitalists saved money by work it was an extraordinarily long time ago. We are forced, then, to turn to history for a solution of the problem.

The system of society immediately proceeding the present social system in the course of evolution we know as Feudalism. It consisted of a complex hierarchy of lords and vassals bound to each other by the duties of military support and obedience and the right of protection. As a basis for this system was serfdom. The land was parcelled out among the lords and their subordinates, and while the latter cultivated the land of their lords they had land of their own for their personal use. In the towns chartered freemen carried on handicrafts and commerce. Thus reciprocal obligations existed and were established by feudal law and custom. No man lacked the means of subsistence, or an occupation. The lords exploited their subordinates, but the latter possessed something tho modern wage slave lacks—security!

The decay of feudalism forms the starting-point of capitalist development. In England it was spread over the 14th, 15th, and 16th centuries. By degrees the peasants and handicraftsmen freed themselves from servile duties and became independent producers, while in conjunction with the growth of trade and the production of commodities arose and flourished the merchant class, who sandwiched themselves parasitically between the producers on either side of the exchange and incidentally fleeced both whenever occasion offered.

The feudal nobility, exhausted, in numbers and resources, by friction among themselves, disbanded their retainers, who thenceforth become propertyless men seeking employment for a living. Large estates passed into the hands of wealthy farmers and burghers, who did not hesitate to evict the tenants in order to convert one-time arable land into sheep pastures. The new nobility also confiscated common land for similar purposes spurred on by the increase in the price of wool. The spoliation of the Church during the Reformation aggravated this condition, and by the end of the 16th century a considerable labour-market had come into being, consisting of expropriated agriculturists, disbanded retainers, and forlorn monks.

The process went on in stages till the 19th century, when the last vestige of the old yeomanry disappeared. At first legislation from Henry VII. onward attempted to stem the tide of usurpation, but in the 18th century the law itself had become the instrument whereby the robbery of the people was effected. Private force was supplemented by the force of the State, which has remained to this day the agent of the plutocrats. From the first it penalised the disinherited for their misfortune : flogging and branding them was its most merciful means of dealing with them.

This, as Marx says, established the “discipline necessary to the wage-system,” and encouraged the new-born proletariat to submit to the low wages and long hours at first legally enforced by the State.

As the workers became habituated and resigned to their fate the severity of the penal legislation relaxed, only to be applied with all its original vigour again when the workers found in combination a means of parrying the onslaught of the masters.

If to-day Trade Unions and strikes are legal it is only because the capitalists have been able to circumvent the determination of the workers by counter organisation, increased economy, and the corruption of the unions themselves.

The labour-market once established, the genesis of the capitalist class followed as a matter of course. In agriculture the farmer, one­-time agent for the landowner, was transformed into an independent exploiter. Whereas the independent peasant had previously produced many of his own requirements, such as clothes, in addition to purely agricultural products, now, as a wage-worker for the capitalist farmer, he had to purchase these elsewhere. Hence arose a domestic market for capitalist industry in the towns. Merchants and money lenders were not slow to take advantage of this. Employing numbers of disinherited peasants, etc., they entered into competition with the independent handicraftsmen of the guilds, and owing to the larger scale of their operations and the division of labour in the workshops which they introduced, they were ultimately able to outstrip the guildsmen in the race. In the face of this competition the guilds went to pieces and added more exploitable material to the labour market. 

At the same time there arose the struggle between the capitalist nations of Europe for world domination. Spain, Portugal, Holland, France, and England followed one another in rapid succession in exploration and conquest in Africa, America, and Asia, plundering the natives of their wealth and converting them into slaves for export to plantation colonies. The plunder thus obtained by the agents of the “merchant adventurers” helped to form new capital in England and on the Continent for the exploitation of white slaves.

These are the methods, drawn very mildly, by which the modern “respectable” class rose to power. The depths of their historic depravity are in direct proportion to the “loftiness” of their professed ideals. Champions of Justice, Freedom, and Charity, their career is indelibly stained with robbery, slavery, and murder. Need it be added that it shows no signs of improving from the standpoint of the workers ?

To sum up, modern wealth or capital is a product of social labour, past and present, which has been and continues to be monopolised by a small class of individuals, which grows relatively smaller as the mass of disinherited producers increases. In its origin it destroyed the unity which existed between the producers and their products, including the means of production, thus reducing them to social outcasts, having no access to the means of life as provided by nature and society. This relationship it perpetuates and uses as a means of self-expansion at their expense.

Technically, however, it indicates economic progress. In the place of the isolated workers of the middle ages able to produce but a meagre variety of articles of wealth, we have to-day an international combination of producers using a highly complex organisation of machinery, means of transport and distribution capable of providing comfort and leisure for all.

What prevents this desirable consummation of industrial development ? The reader who has followed this analysis will readily see that it is the capitalist character of this social wealth, i.e., its private ownership, which alone stands in the way. The private property of the many workers has disappeared before the private ownership of a few idlers. To return to the former state is neither possible nor desirable. It is not our business to destroy the fruits of centuries of toiling agony, but rather to enter into possession of them ; and as the means of production become ever more concentrated and incapable of control save in the mass, the only alternative to private ownership by the few is common ownership.

This will reunite the producers with their means of production and simultaneously preserve technical progress, for it is this progress which forces on the revolution. It unites them in the productive process and reduces them all to the level of wage slaves for the maintenance of capital. Hence it breeds a community of interest and a common consciousness. Let us speed on the day when they will unite in one organisation with a common purpose. Let us rally them round the Socialist standard, and establish Socialism, the cooperative commonwealth.

Eric Boden

[Concluded.]

Analysis of Wealth. III. Exploitation. (1916)

From the August 1916 issue of the Socialist Standard

Link to Part 2.

Just as there are two aspects of a commodity, utility and its exchange-value, so there art two ways of viewing its production, or in other words, the labour process.

At one and the same time the labourer produces a use-value and an exchange-value ; the former by transforming raw material into useful articles, the latter by adding labour thereto.

We have already seen that capital in the process of expansion assumes two forms. Part of it becomes represented by raw material, tools or machinery, etc., the passive factors in wealth production, while the rest is invested in a special commodity, labour-power, the active, value-creating agent. Both these factors are obviously indispensable. Without raw material, etc., the labourer would have nothing in which to embody value ; without the labourer raw material would become useless and valueless. For the only use raw material possesses is to serve as the element of the complete commodity, and its exchange-value only counts in so far as it becomes part of the total value of such complete commodity. Raw material, machinery, etc., lying idle, untouched by labour, rot and rust, and lose their exchange-value along with it.

Hence by transforming them into new commodities the labourer does more than add new value ; he preserves old. In so far as raw material, etc., is so transformed, the labour previously expended upon it counts as part of the total labour necessary in the production of a commodity.

On the other hand, the passive factors in the labour process are incapable of transferring a greater value to the finished product than they already possess. The value of the raw material and machinery does not multiply itself ; it remains constant and is called by Marx constant capital.

In realising the utility of the constant capital the labourer preserves it : that is one aspect of his activities. Let us now turn to his function as the producer of new value.

We have seen in a previous article that the amount of value the labourer adds to the commodity is determined by the length of time he inevitably occupies. Thus in our first example he worked six hours and added a value of three shillings ; in the second instance, by working twelve hours a value of six shillings was produced.

We also saw that the object of the capitalist in purchasing labour-power was to take advantage of its capacity for producing more value than it possessed itself. That in the first case the capitalist realised no surplus-value because the labourer produced no more than the equivalent of his value, but that in the second case the surplus amounted to 3s, the product of the extra six hours labour.

In each of these cases the constant part of capital adds no more than itself to the total value. The amount of the constant capital in the second case is twice that of the first in order that the labourer might work twice as long, but this makes no difference to the result. The new value of 6s. is added by the labourer.

Just as any purchaser seeks to obtain the maximum use-value from his commodity, so the capitalist uses up labour-power to its limit ; seeks to obtain the maximum of value, and therefore of surplus-value, from its exercise. It is the object of the present article to show how this is achieved. One thing must be borne in mind, viz., that the rate of surplus-value is not calculated on the total capital, but only on the part which is expended in the purchase of labour-power. Thus in the above instance, whereas the wages of the labourer were 3s. and the total value produced by him was 6s., the rate of surplus-value was 100 per cent. ; that is to say the surplus was equal to the wages.

When the capitalist speaks of his “rate of profit” he would in this case reckon the 3s. surplus-value in proportion to the total capital advanced, viz., 27s., thus making the rate a little over 11 per cent.

Well as this method may serve him in his conventional dealings, it hides the true extent of the exploitation of labour-power.

We have seen that the capitalist obtains his surplus by prolonging tho labourer’s work beyond the time necessary to reproduce a value equivalent to his wages. It is, therefore, to the capitalist’s interest, to extend the working day as much as possible. The limit in this direction is simply the physical capacity of the labourer.

In order to exert his powers the labourer must have time to eat and sleep and recuperate, but beyond this the capitalist, having purchased these powers, has sole right over their exercise during the period for which he has purchased them. The only difference, in fact, between the wage-labourer and the chattel-slave is that the former sells himself piecemeal, i.e., in periods, while the latter is sold once for life.

It is, of course, possible that the capitalist may use up in one day a greater quantity of labour power than the worker can restore in three (“Capital,” p. 217). In other words, he may use more labour power in a day than he pays for. It is the labourer’s business to claim the price of his commodity, and hence a struggle ensues as to the extent of the working-day.

In sections 5 and 6 of Chap X. (“The Working Day”) Marx shows how the manufacturers succeeded in extending the working day by degrees from the normal day of the Middle Ages to twelve hours in the seventeenth century. Then how, with the introduction of machinery in the eighteenth century, a violent encroachment took place on the remaining leisure of the workers. “All bounds of morals and nature, age and sex, day and night, were broken down” (p. 264).

Men, women, and children were worked to the point of exhaustion, until even the capitalist legislature, threatened by working-class revolt on one hand and the extreme physical and mental deterioration of that class (the source of surplus-value) on the other, were compelled to place legal restraint on private greed by limiting the hours of labour. For years they dallied and toyed with the matter, passing laws and abstaining from granting money for their administration and adopting all manner of devices to render their concessions purely nominal. Only when the most distinguished medical authorities had pointed out the danger to the ruling class of persisting in the industrial murder of children, did this class definitely prescribe that no children under 13 years of age should be worked more than 12 hours in one day. Even then it left, all manner of loopholes for the evasion of the Act (1833), of which the manufacturers, in their blind profit-lust, were not slow to take advantage.

With eloquent thoroughness Marx shows how rival sections of the ruling class exploited the misery of the workers on the political field in order to gain their own ends ; how time and again they betrayed them, and finally only conceded the meagre right of sufficient time in which to eat and sleep after a bitter struggle over every inch of ground for half-a-century.

These passages are indeed enlightening as to the character and methods of our masters, which have changed, if at all, only in the direction of greater duplicity.

The very nature of machinery enables the master class to increase the speed at which their slaves work, thus exhausting them more rapidly and reducing a legally limited working day to nominal value. Hence the workers are under the necessity of continually struggling to obtain still further reductions in the hours of labour. For by so much as the speed at which they work is increased, by so much is their life-time shortened.

Hitherto we have considered only one means of increasing the surplus-value, i.e., the lengthening of the working day. Capital, however, by no means rests content with pushing that to its limit. It is for ever seeking to reduce the value of labour-power and consequently the necessary time spent by the workers in reproducing that value, thus leaving a greater portion of a given working day in which they must produce surplus-value. This result is effected chiefly in two ways.

From the time the capitalist class first assumed control of industry there has gone on an increasing splitting-up of the forces of production among the producers. By concentrating numbers of workers in one workshop the earlier manufacturers were enabled to divide a handicraft into separate parts, each part being taken up by a different worker. Instead of being a skilled craftsman the worker became a mere special cog in a machine, and in this way the time spent in learning his calling was considerably reduced. Another effect of this alteration in the process of production was an increase in the product of a given number of men. The specialisation of individuals economised the time necessary to produce each individual commodity. This resulted in reducing the cost of the articles produced and consequently the maintenance of the labourer. Thus in two ways the exchange-value of labour-power fell ; wages suffered a reduction and the increased product went to the capitalist.

The effects of this division of labour, which Marx defines as Manufacture proper, were insignificant compared with those resulting from the advent of machinery and modern industry. Here the worker loses the last vestige of skill and has his productive capacity enormously increased by being converted into an attendant of a monster which operates not one but many tools at once. The time spent in learning his task now falls to almost nil, while the cost of his necessaries is still further reduced and his wages along with it. Surplus-value increases by leaps and bounds, and since machinery is constantly being improved, more universally and economically adopted, there has as yet been discovered no limit to this increase.

We see, then, that capital grows by securing domination over living labour-power and consuming it to the limit of its capacity. In this process the labourer preserves the constant part of capital, reproduces the equivalent of his wages, and adds a surplus which may be converted into new capital.

Despite various theories concerning the “abstinence” of the capitalist, however, the whole of this surplus-value does not become capital. Quite a considerable portion goes to provide the person of the capitalist with the necessaries, comforts, and luxuries proper to his social status. Still, he does “save” !

What specially interests us here though is that his whole consumption fund, large though it may be, involves no reduction of the amount of his wealth. Even if he consumed the whole of the surplus produced by the labourers he would become no poorer. He would remain a capitalist.

There is, however, another aspect of this relationship. In the course of time the capitalist inevitably spends a sum equivalent to his original capital in his own personal consumption. The capital he has invested therefore becomes practically the creation of the labourer : a sum of accumulated surplus value. If, for instance, the capitalist makes a profit of 20 per cent. per annum and consumes the lot, then in five years he will in effect have consumed the whole of his capital. The sum intact which he still retains is the fruit of his exploitation of labour-power, and it is with this sum that he continues to purchase labour-power.

The reason the labourer offers himself for hire is precisely because he does not possess the means of production. By continually yielding to the capitalist all his product over and above his necessary price, wages, he reproduces his own propertyless condition. Saving by the capitalist, nay, the mere existence of the capitalist, involves the absence of opportunity to save for the worker. The process of exploitation perpetuates itself.

The accumulation of surplus-value, the fruits of the process, simply enables the process to be carried on more extensively. In other words, the workers produce the means for their employment on an ever-increasing scale. Their reward for doing this will be dealt with in a further article.

Eric Boden

Analysis of Wealth. II. Surplus Value. (1916)

From the July 1916 issue of the Socialist Standard

Link to Part 1.

In a former article under this heading the writer tried to show that the substance of value, the common property of all commodities as such, is social labour, measured by the time taken in its expenditure. He tried to show further that money serves as a measure of values, a standard of prices, and a medium of circulation, only because it is itself a commodity, that is to say, it embodies social labour in the same manner as do the articles for which it is exchanged. He tried to show still further that the production of commodities, i.e., articles for exchange, and the use of money are features of a certain stage of development in the means and methods of production and in the control thereof, and are destined to disappear with future progress.

We have now to consider money a little further in the form of capital in the process of accumulation, or in other words, the phenomenon of “money making money.” For money in itself is not necessarily capital. Only when it is used for the purpose of adding to itself does it become so. When the independent producer (peasant or handicraftsman) brought his goods to market he received for them a certain sum of money which sooner or later he expended on articles of a different sort, largely for his own personal use and partly, of course, to buy fresh raw material, etc. To him the money entering transiently into his possession was not capital. Nor were the goods he sold, for he received in exchange goods of equal value. No interest, no profit, accrued to him in the transaction.

Otherwise is it with the modern capitalist with a sum of money, which is constantly expanding in volume. He buys commodities not for consumption by himself, but in order that in some form or other he may re-sell these commodities and realise a profit on the transaction. Apart from this profit his activities as a capitalist would be meaningless.

The independent producer bought commodities mainly in order to realise their use-value in his own person. The capitalist buys them only to throw them back into circulation and receive in return an increase in exchange-value. The simplest definition of capital, then, is money thrown into circulation only to be received back again with an increase to itself, which increase becomes part of the capital which is again advanced to return with a fresh increase.

This increase or profit Marx calls surplus-value. The problem of its origin is the central one in economic science, and its solution holds the key to an understanding of all the workings of capitalism.

The quest for profit is the mainspring of the present social order. Let us take the mainspring out of the case and examine it.

In the first place, it is obvious that money must go into circulation in order to increase itself. If it simply lay in a safe it would remain the same in quantity. Thus is the modern capitalist cuter than the old-fashioned miser. Being a “true Christian” he refrains from the stupid, worthless process of hugging his money to himself, and lets it go believing implicitly in the words of his Lord : “Whosoever would save his life the same shall lose it, but whosoever loseth his life for my sake [“profits’] the same shall find it.” But bearing in mind that on the average prices are determined by values, and these latter by the socially necessary labour embodied in commodities, it is also clear that the circulation of money cannot in itself give rise to profit. On the average the capitalist buys commodities at their values and sells them again at their values. He exchanges equivalents, and unless some increase of value takes place between the two acts of buying and selling he can realise no profit. Various orthodox theories have tried to see the origin of surplus value in the process of exchange. The investigation of these theories, however, shows them to be based either upon the confusion of use-value with exchange-value or upon the illusion that prices (and implicitly values) are determined by the arbitrary will of the owner of commodities or by mere chance.

In dealing with capital the scientific economist is concerned not with an accumulation of use-values, but of exchange-value in the form of money ; which accumulation, moreover, is not made by one or a few capitalists at the expense of the rest, but by the capitalist class as a whole. The origin of surplus-value is, therefore, to be found in production, or in other words, in the productive consumption of the commodities originally purchased.

All commodities which are consumed in order to re-appear as new commodities may be said to be productively consumed. For instance, leather purchased by a boot manufacturer is consumed in the factory to reappear as boots. The boots, moreover, contain more value than the leather, since they embody additional labour. This additional value, however, is by no means necessarily surplus-value. Imagine, for instance, an independent boot-maker purchasing his own tools and raw materials and selling his own product. The value of the raw materials, etc., is transmitted to the finished product, which, in addition, contains the value added by the bootmaker’s labour. The boots are sold for more money than was paid for the leather and the tools, but no surplus-value has been realised ; money does not in this instance make money. The raw materials, etc., do not transmit more value than they themselves contain ; all the increase is due to the boot-maker’s labour. The difference between the original outlay and the price he gets for his commodity is simply equal to the value he has added. The effect is the same as if he had made no outlay but produced a new and distinct commodity and sold it. His money has not expanded itself ; he has simply added to it. In short, it is not capital. Men do not become capitalists and wealthy in the modern sense by themselves adding value to natural objects. Rather, the increase of their wealth is obviously independent of their efforts and totally out of proportion to any they might make.

Nevertheless, seeing that all value is but the embodiment of labour, surplus-value, being a particular form of value, can only be derived from labouring in some fashion. Therefore in order to obtain surplus-value the capitalist must find in the market not merely ordinary commodities (which are in capable of producing for him more value than they themselves possess) but some commodity which actually produces value, i.e., labours. This commodity he finds in the energies of the modern wage-labourer. It matters little to the capitalist what other commodities he deals in. Food or clothing, luxuries or necessities, all alike embody labour, therefore it is the labouring commodity which he essentially requires in order to obtain profit.

When the capitalist purchases other commodities he buys congealed labour : labour which is past, dead, inactive. From them alone he can expect no increase of value. In buying labour-power, however, he secures the potential source of all further value. So far as he is concerned the special function of labour-power is to produce value and, above all, surplus-value. With the usefulness of labour-power, in any other sense he is not concerned, any more than he is concerned with the utility of the goods he sells. Capital being but a sum of exchange-values, its sole passion is for its own growth by the production of more exchange-value, which means the continual consumption of labour-power. It remains to show how by this consumption surplus-value is actually produced.

Labour-power, like every other commodity, possess an exchange-value, which is realised in a price, termed wages. The amount of this exchange-value is determined by the labour-time spent in its production. The average wages of any section of the working class depends upon the cost of its customary necessities of life, including such special education as may be necessary in the branch of industry in which it is employed. It is obvious that wages cannot be long depressed below this standard without impairing the productive efficiency of the labourers’ energies. On the other hand, if they rise far above this standard the surplus-value is encroached upon. For surplus-value is nothing more than the difference between the wages of the labourers and the sum total value of their product. Were the labourers in the habit of producing no more wealth than would keep them, in working condition surplus-value would be impossible. The labour market, like the market for other commodities, is liable to fluctuations, but experience shows that these cancel one another, and that the general level of wages is such as will maintain the workers in their daily tasks.

But though the price of labour-power is limited in this way, the limit of surplus-value is simply the productivity of labour-power. Anyone purchasing a conmodity acquires the use of it, and the capitalist only buys labour-power in order that he may use it up, i.e., set it to produce the greatest possible amount of exchange-value in the form of commodities. Here we may take examples from Marx (“Capital,” Vol. I. p. 106).

Marx first supposes a capitalist advancing a sum of 15s. which is split up as follows : 10s, is the price of 10 lbs. of cotton ; 2s. represents the value of wear and tear of machinery, etc.; 3s. is paid for the hire of labour-power. We have thus a sum of 12s. as constant capital, i.e., value which passes unchanged into the form of the finished product, yarn. This is assumed to be the product of two days labour of twelve hours each, i.e., two hours labour is embodied in a sum of 1s., or a commodity of that value. Supposing now that in six hours the 10 lbs of cotton are converted into 10 lbs of yarn, The yarn contains thirty hours labour ; twenty-four being spent in producing raw material, etc., and six in converting it into finished product. Its value,, therefore, is 15s., i.e., 1s.for every two hours labour.

Here no surplus-value is created, for 15s. was the sum originally advanced. By only working six hours the labourer has done no more than produce an equivalent of his wages, 3s., and the capitalist makes no profit.

Marx now gives a second case. In this the capitalist advances 27s. Twenty lbs. of cotton are bought for 20s., and 4s. is allowed for wear and tear. The labourer is paid his wages of 3s., but instead of working only six hours is made to work twelve, having exactly twice the amount of raw material to convert into yarn. This time the yarn represents 60 hours labour, 48 being contained in raw material and twelve being added in the process of spinning. If 30 hours labour are represented by 15s., then 60 hours are embodied in 30s.

The capital advanced was 27s., so that the capitalist makes a profit of 3s. when selling the goods in the market at their value.

These simple examples illustrate the whole character of capitalist production. Carried on as it may be with all due regard to legal forms, it yet consists of a process of robbery disguised by the exchange of equal values.

The capitalist certainly gives the labourer his “due,” i.e., the value of his energies, or in other words, the cost of production of his commodity labour-power, but if the labourer simply replaced this value the capitalist would gain nothing. For him the transaction is meaningless unless the worker produces far more than that, unless, in fact, his whole life-time becomes but a process of producing value.

In further articles the writer hopes to outline how capital in its lust for self-expansion pushes the exhaustion of labour-power to its limits. For the present it is as well to remember the cause of the subjection of labour-power to capital.

The worker sells himself (in the form of his energies) as a commodity. Why ? His obvious motive is to obtain his price, wages. These as we see, however, only represent sufficient to keep him in existence. It follows, then, that he lacks the means of subsistence and must purchase them, which still further implies that he does not possess the wherewithal to produce them. This is another point to be dealt with later.

Eric Boden

[To be continued.]

Analysis of Wealth. I. Value. (1916)

From the June 1916 issue of the Socialist Standard

Although from time immemorial the mass of objects which we term wealth has formed the basis of humanity’s existence, it is only of recent years that a scientific investigation of the conditions of its production and distribution has arisen. This is indicative of a development of these conditions, for if there was in the past a lack of effort to solve economic problems, this can only be because these problems existed, if at all, in an obscure, immature fashion. In the days when small local communities were practically self-supporting and articles only rarely exchanged on their borders, it was obvious enough that wealth was the direct product of labour for individual consumption. Likewise in the earlier stages of production for exchange the seller of commodities knew them to be his personal products and attached no miraculous import to the money for which he sold them and with which he purchased the products of men likewise known to him. With the complexity of full-blown capitalism, however, the workers become separated from the commodities produced by them, which acquire a mysterious knack of realising more in their sale than what was laid out in buying the necessary factors for their production. Henceforth wealth seems to spring from nowhere—money makes money; and problems present themselves for solution.

Founded upon the very conditions which give rise to the problems, however, is the power of the capitalist class, who have a pretty sure instinct that a real economic science is inimical to their interests since it unavoidably exposes their parasitical position in society. It can readily be understood, therefore, that prior to critical revolutionists like Karl Marx developing the science in working-class interests, only a few isolated truths were revealed by the studies of honest, if orthodox, inquirers likewise few in number ; while the mass of so-called economic literature became of an apologetic character seeking to obscure, in capitalist interests, the very problems it pretended to elucidate.

Members of the working class, having nothing to fear from criticism of a social order which entails nothing but poverty for them, may find in the writings of Marx a clear, if elaborate, analysis of the facts of their existence. Time spent in their study, snatched though it be from scanty leisure, is repaid by the acquisition of an undying purpose in life and the joy of knowledge with which to carve the road to power. If in the following paragraphs the writer can outline the main points of Marx’s economic theory in such a way as to arouse interest in some hitherto apathetic or hostile mind, his immediate object will be served. If the inquirer be worth his salt he will not rest till he is intellectually equipped for the conflict with capital.

The unit of modern wealth is the commodity, which has three essential features. Firstly it must satisfy some human want ; be useful. Secondly it is a product of human labour, a conscious adaptation of nature ; while lastly it must be exchangeable for other useful labour products. It must find its way into the social market else it is no commodity.

Thus a commodity is a combination in an object of utility and exchangeability, or in other words, of use-value and exchange-value. The former is due to its natural qualities (physical, chemical, etc.,) and also distinguishes it from any other commodity. It is this difference in usefulness which leads to the exchange of commodities, although it by no means determines the ratio in which they are exchanged. Any given commodity vendor does not exchange, say, boots for boots, but for some article of wealth which has different properties. On the other hand it would be absurd to say that boots are as useful to him as the commodity he receives in exchange. Any attempts, therefore, (and there have been many), to explain exchange-value through utility are futile. Exchange-value is a relation of equality, while a comparison of the use-values of commodities simply reveals their differences or inequalities. What, then, is exchange-value ? If we take a pair of boots and a ton of coal, each selling say for £1, we have three commodities (including the sovereign) of equal value. Compare as we may their relative weight, colour, smell, size, or any other tangible property, we can discover no equality between them. Their uses are different and it is highly improbable that the relations of supply and demand in coal and boot markets respectively are identical at any given moment. We are thus left with only one feature common to all these commodities, viz., they are products of human labour, they embody human energy. In this respect they may be compared and an equation between them arrived at if we measure the energy embodied in them by the time occupied in its expenditure. If, then, our imaginary pair of boots and ton of coal are equal in value, it can only be because they contain equal quantities of labour or. in other words, have taken an equal length of time to produce.

It is important to remember here that commodities are social products and presuppose the division of labour in society. Producers of coal and boots or of any other special product cannot exist on their commodities alone ; they exchange as a matter of necessity. In consequence they seek to minimise the length of time taken in producing any given commodity in order, by the cheapness thereof, to secure a certain sale. If, therefore, someone takes up unnecessary time in the production of a commodity its value in exchange ia not enhanced thereby. It is the socially necessary labour-time alone which forms value.

Another result of the division of labour is the difference in quality of the forms of labour which produce different commodities. Certain occupations exhaust more nerve and muscle in a given time than others. Their products therefore contain more value in proportion to the intensity of labour in excess of that embodied in other commodities. This, however, by no means affects the fact that they are reducible to one common element, simple labour-power ; the more intense or skilled labour simply counts as a multiple of ordinary labour. Labour remains the factor which determines value.

This fact in the key to the door of economic mystery. Ignoring this, the professional “political economists” have endeavoured to lead us down one blind alley after another, beguiling us the while with romantic yarns concerning the awesome and unapproachable majesty of Money arrayed as Capital, embodiment of all the attributes of God, before whom the knees of men must bow for ever. Let us try to use the key and enter the holy presence. Mayhap ’tis a gilded skeleton, after all with which they would scare us.

Value (by which we continue to mean exchange-value) does not exist apart from material, valuable objects, any more than weight exists apart from things which are heavy, or heat apart from hot things. In measuring or expressing the value of a commodity we are, therefore, compelled to use some other commodity as an equivalent.

In common practice we use gold and say, for instance, 1 pr. of boots is worth 1 sovereign ; but if 1 ton of coal is also worth £1, then we might just as well say, 1 pr. of boots is worth 1 ton of coal or any other commodity which exchanges for £1. £1 serves as an expression of the value of the boots only because, like the boots (and the coal), it contains a definite quantity of human labour, and is in this respect equal to them.

There is, therefore, nothing mystical about the function of gold as money more than there is about the use of mercury as a measure of heat, or iron weights in a greengrocer’s shop. Gold measures value only because itself is valuable, as mercury has a temperature and iron is heavy. As coin gold becomes symbolic and may be replaced by tokens bearing a nominal value only, but said tokens must not diverge in nominal value from the real value of the gold which would otherwise be used. Likewise the amount of depreciation in weight and therefore value which a gold coin is allowed to suffer and yet remain in circulation, is limited by law.

The quantity of gold for which a commodity will exchange we term its price. This price is broadly determined by the commodity’s value, which is liable to fluctuations as the time taken in production varies.

The price, however, does not only reflect these variations. The velocity with which it is disturbed from time to time carries it now above, anon below the actual value of the commodity. On the surface these minor disturbances appear to be caused by supply and demand, and this is indeed so ; but the relations of supply and demand are themselves subject to the changes in labour-time. Assume, for instance, that the time occupied in producing a given quantity of boots is decreased by some new invention or pro­cess, then there will be a tendency to increase the output beyond the power of the market to immediately absorb, followed by a fall in price. The excess of boots remaining unsaleable, pro­duction is restricted till prices rise, probably above the new value, afterwards falling to approximately the correct level, when production, is resumed. The process may be compared with the oscillations produced on a pair of balances when the weight on one side is disturbed. Owing, however, to the continual alteration in the values of commodities due to improved methods of production, prices hardly ever come to rest at an exact coincidence with value. Nevertheless, it must be an approximation of price to value that takes place, for money is under the same necessity to express its value in the form of other commodities as these commodities are to express their value in the form of money. The state­ment that a sovereign is always worth a sovereign teaches us nothing.

Gold as money, then, is a transformed commo­dity. In addition to its own use (mainly luxurious) it has acquired the functions of universal equivalent—equivalent for all other commodities. Alone of all of them it is directly exchangeable for any of them by reason of its fitness to serve at once as a measure of value and a means of exchange or medium of circula­tion. Like all other commodities, it originates in a form of division of labour in which the means of production are private property and the product also; in which, moreover, production is not for direct use but for exchange.

The self-supporting peasant family of the Middle Ages had little use for money. Its various products were consumed by itself. The labour of each member was obviously part of the family’s labour. Consequently products were not exchanged within it but were considered the family property. Long ages before civilisa­tion tribal mankind produced forms of wealth which were used without going through the process of private exchange. They too needed not money.

The existing order of society, in which goods are produced for the market, is not immortal. It has not always existed ; nor will it continue for ever to exist. When the vast means for producing wealth have been converted from private into common property ; when the labour of society becomes consciously organised and its products distributed directly for consumption ; when, in short, Socialism has been established, money will disappear. Labour products will cease to be commodities. Their social character will be obvious at first sight and will need no translation into mystical terms of gold.

As it is at present, when we express the values of commodities, we do but state in a round-about way that they are products of so much social labour, in a word, our products. Money conceals the fact but does not alter it. It is itself a social product which has the power to command social labour. Accumulated in the hands of private individuals it enables them to exploit masses of their fellow men, in short, it becomes capital. Precisely how it does this will form the subject matter of a future article.

Eric Boden

[To be continued.]

SPGB Meetings (1937)

Party News from the August 1937 issue of the Socialist Standard

Open Air Propaganda (August) (1937)

Party News from the August 1937 issue of the Socialist Standard

The Reaction in Europe and the S.P.G.B. (1934)

From the July 1934 issue of the Socialist Standard

Observers of political events since 1918 cannot fail to have noticed the change that has come over the general tone and attitude of the various so- called “left” elements among the workers. For the first few years after the war these elements were jubilantly proclaiming the imminence of the end of the present social order upon the strength of a few beggarly political and other reforms on the Continent. Because sections of the ruling-class lost their grip of things in the defeated countries (giving way to others who were prepared to provide safety-valves for working class discontent and place certain belated limits on their exploitation) we were asked to believe that our masters were at the end of their tether and would be surrendering the earth in a few short years.

Now we are asked to believe a very different story by these self-same elements. In their eyes now there are no limits to the powers of the master-class to impose what is commonly termed Fascism and to interfere with the general development of the working-class. Why? Because, forsooth, these reforms are being filched from the workers within a few years of being won. To crown all, instead of realising the futility of reform policies, these elements proclaim ever more loudly the need for still bigger and better reforms.

What is the attitude of the S.P.G.B. towards this change of front on the part of such bodies as the Communist Party and I.L.P. ? Briefly, it is to maintain unchanged our hostility to these bodies and to demonstrate that the capitalist system remains essentially unchanged, in spite of the manifold forms assumed by the different national States which uphold it.

Having had experience of partial suppression during the War, we are far from holding that it is a matter of indifference to the workers whether they are allowed political expression or not. The Socialist movement, which is the supreme expression of their needs, cannot arrive at maturity under conditions of political reaction. In Engels' phrase, the Socialist movement needs elbow-room.

Experience shows, however, that reform organisations, no matter how numerous their members and supporters may be, cannot guarantee to the workers these essential political conditions of development. So far from their being able to check reaction their inability when they become the Government to solve the economic problem, has provided reaction with its greatest political stimulus. Helpless before the economic blizzard, they are equally helpless in the face of its political reflexion.

The progress of scientific organisation under capitalism results in the weeding out of the smaller capitalists and, as a result, anti-scientific notions, such as Fascism, readily find acceptance among such groups during a period of economic depression.

Socialism alone can free the productive forces from restrictions imposed upon them by different sections of the capitalist class. In the meantime, these sections strive each to impose the amount and kind of restriction suited to its own interest. The small capitalists, faced with impending bankruptcy, strive to hamper the large-scale concerns, but neither Hitler nor Mussolini has discovered how to save these obsolete little “captains of industry." The big fish continue to swallow up the little fish.

Every national State, no matter how it may describe itself, endeavours to utilise science to the maximum degree in perfecting its instruments of aggression and defence. Hence, for this reason, if for no other, it encourages the development of large-scale industry, which alone can provide these instruments. This applies equally to Bolshevist Russia, Fascist Italy and Nazi Germany—and to Britain, whether under “Labour” or "National” Governments. Large-scale industry progresses, in its turn, upon the ruins of small-scale industry.

This results in the development of the working-class, i.e., in the increase of its numbers, and in the growth of its organisation upon the industrial field. The intensity and scope of the class-struggle increase simultaneously.

The “dictators," Fascist and Bolshevist alike, attempt to repress this struggle by suppressing all political parties save one. The result is that discontented elements find their way into the one legal party, and are a constant menace to its unity. The “Dictator” preserves his authority over the different factions among his followers by avoiding going too far in any one direction. Hitler and Mussolini, Stalin and Pilsudski owe their positions to compromise just as surely as does Ramsay MacDonald, or any other Parliamentary politician.

In Britain, however, the capitalist class has long ago learned how to sink its internal struggles in critical moments, as a result of its more advanced economic development. It finds its solution, not in dictatorships, but in Coalitions or “National” Governments. The essential compromise is achieved by less violent means.

Under such conditions Fascists, so-called, are as little likely as Communists to become anything more than a thorn in the side of some larger party. Just as the Communists imported Russian jargon, but were utterly unable to bring over Russian conditions along with it, so the British Fascists will find that the novelty of teaching their political grandmothers to suck eggs will soon wear off. It is not necessary to credit Baldwin and Company with supernatural sagacity in order to anticipate that they will always be at least one move ahead of Sir Oswald Mosley.

The followers of this volatile politician may conceivably eclipse the Communists and I.L.P., but Socialists need not get excited about that. If the workers are still in the dark as to the direction to take, these latter bodies must accept a large measure of responsibility. They have induced the workers to support policies for which there was no chance of success. Disillusionment and apathy have, therefore, provided the material from which Mosley may build up a temporary alternative movement.

The S.P.G.B. is not a party of prophets, but whatever the immediate future may hold, we see no reason to deviate from the policy consistently pursued by us for thirty years. Just as we refused to be duped by Moscow, so we decline to be scared by what is happening in other Continental centres.

We realise that the master-class of this country possess means of intimidation as formidable as any that exist. We also realise that they control them through the support which they receive from the non-Socialist members of our class. By all means in our power, therefore, we strive to make Socialists.

Eric Boden

Blogger's Note:

See also the editorial, 'Reason or Violence', from this month's Socialist Standard.

Open Air Propaganda (July) (1937)

Party News from the July 1937 issue of the Socialist Standard

Blogger's Note:

A bit of a mystery here. A Party speaker with the surname of 'Otto' is listed four times in the Speakers' List for July. There is no record of an 'Otto' in the Party membership list. This member was obviously well regarded as a speaker 'cos they secured one of the marquee spots speaking at Hyde Park on a Sunday alongside the likes of Sammy Cash and Tony Turner. So, it's either a case of another example of the incomplete membership records or, more likely, that 'Otto' was a pseudonym for a Party member whose name couldn't appear in the Party press.

Also interesting to note that both Adolph Kohn and Eric Boden are listed as speaking. I didn't know they were still doing outdoor speaking this late in their Party lives. 

Obituary: Eric Boden (1975)

Obituary from the April 1975 issue of the Socialist Standard

We regret to report the death in December last of Eric Boden. He joined the Party in 1912, and was already writing for the Socialist Standard before the first world war.

With some interruptions he continued to write until he dropped out of the Party in 1953, though his interest in Party work remained. At one period he went to East Africa and was conscripted to the army there. Old members will remember the articles he wrote about developments in East Africa, and he contributed many other valuable articles.

He became the branch secretary of our former Sheffield Branch, and at another time was a member of the Watford Branch. He spoke on the Party platform in Sheffield and Doncaster, and occasionally attended Conference as a delegate. His wife also was a Party member. Boden was a persuasive and knowledgeable speaker, and wherever he went he devoted himself to making the Socialist case known.

Socialism or Utopia? (1915)

From the December 1915 issue of the Socialist Standard

From the present writer’s experience there still appears to be a considerable number of people who regard the Socialist as a Utopian—a kind of mystic idealist who spends his time dreaming about a beautiful New World, weaving all manner of fanciful details from that ethereal entity, imagination. Yet why ?

If we turn to the official Declaration of Principles of the Socialist Party we find no trace of this fantastic frame of mind. It expresses nothing but the relations of forces actually existent at the present time, and only asserts anything concerning the future as the direct outcome of these relations. To the “genuine idealist” this attitude must appear “grossly materialistic,” while even the “practical man” is invariably found criticising it for the very reason that it is devoid of any detailed elaboration.

Seeing, however, that all erroneous notions must reflect some facts albeit in a distorted out-of-focus fashion, it is well to discover such modicum of truth as may exist in anti-Socialist criticism before considering the case settled. While the modern Socialist, following the scientific method of Marx and Engels, can effectually clear himself of the charge of Utopianism, so much cannot be said of the forerunners of the movement such as Owen, St. Simon and Fourier. Our opponents are welcome to all the satisfaction they can get out of this, considering that we now-a-days recognise the efforts of the above named thinkers to be getting on for a century out of date so far as their ideal reconstruction of society is concerned. Their criticisms of existing society, however, still hold good, and have been preserved by the analysis of Marx and placed upon “the solid rock” as Engels terms it.

The law of evolution holds good in the realm of theory no less than in the physical world ; consequently Socialism could hardly be expected to spring itself on the world full-fledged and complete. Its germ came into being as the result of certain definite historical events, and has developed alongside of the full fruition of other results of these events.

About the middle of the eighteenth century mechanical industry took its rise, seized upon trade after trade until by now it has revolutionised the entire character of the production of wealth, converting isolated groups of workers into a vast economic network, and replacing competition between a large number of small manufacturers by that between a small number of Titanic concerns.

Early on it commenced to intensify the poverty of the workers and widen the gulf between them and their employers, and it was these facts, following on an increase of wealth produced, that gave the Utopists the data for their criticisms. Hard on the heels of the industrial revolution in England followed the political upheaval in France which, in its turn, left the workers there worse off than before. Thus almost simultaneously the application of science to production and the establishment of “liberal institutions,” so far from improving the condition of the majority of the people, brought increased misery for them.

This glaring contradiction could hardly fail to arouse the curiosity of such members of he educated class as had not completely prostituted their intellectual faculties to the service to the new capitalist order of society, and out of the genuine research thus developed arose certain definite critical opinions which extended to the conventionalities of society, religion, the state, marriage, etc., in addition to its economic basis, i e private property.

As yet, however, the class antagonism had only manifested itself in spasmodic conflicts such as the machine smashing riots, consequently these original critics of society had nothing to point to as the factor which was to supplant the existing structure by a new one. The organised revolt of the workers against exploitation was quite foreign to their notions. Hence they had to imagine some way out and started experiments according to elaborate schemes for the regulation of communal affairs. They ignored the fact that it was the new industrial change that made a social change possible, and cut themselves off from that change by forming small groups of co-operators and endeavouring to be independent of the rest of society. Such ventures were foredoomed to failure, not because of some imaginary innate individualism of mankind as some self-styled “practical people” insist, but by reason of their insufficient economic basis. To these ideal fantasies the term “Utopian” can correctly be applied. Curiously enough, however it was the further development of industry and the growth of the class-war which simultaneously scotched them and gave birth to the scientific Socialism of the Communist Manifesto.

In the early half of the nineteenth century the workers commenced to organise for the conflict with capital. Trades Unions sprang up and the movement for political rights, Chartism, came into being. The fact that these first efforts did not realise the sanguine aspirations prompting them rendered necessary a scientific analysis of the conditions of the field of battle, in other words, the pressing of critical research to fundamental issues. This led to the discovery of the method by which the workers are exploited and condemned to poverty, and of the necessary outcome of the consequent struggle, i.e., the conquest of political power by the workers and the abolition of exploitation by the conversion of the implements of social production into common property.

The key to the future was obtained not by imagination but by science. The class-war, which is the basic fact upon which modern Socialism as a theory rests, is no mere fantasy but bitter truth.

Socialism, i.e., the criticism of existing society and speculations concerning the future was only Utopian so long as the class-war between wage-earners and capitalists was in its rudimentary stages. No sooner did this struggle develop into the most vital and glaring phenomenon of social life than Socialism became a science. On the other hand, Utopianism, i.e., the deliberate attempt to plan beforehand a social ideal, while it became obsolete, nevertheless persisted in a new form. Instead of being part of an honest criticism of society it became a phase of capitalist politics. The more the workers commenced to chafe against their fetters, the more necessary it became from the capitalist view-point to provide them with visions of economic improvement. The “practical” class, which had scorned the earlier Utopists’ plea for social harmony on the ground that struggle was the law of life, now became anxious that the workers should not put this notion into practice. Hence the “brotherhood of capital and labour” became a most respectable doctrine, and all capitalist legislation took on the form of measures for “the amelioration of the lot of the masses.” Every blessed section of the ruling class developed its own special kind of social policy. The Tory landowners boomed factory legislation, the Radical manufacturers went in for anti-Corn-Law agitation, all apparently for the benefit of the class they were mutually plundering, i.e., the working class. All the latter had to do was to allow the masters to continue to wield the political machine.

So soon as the workers acquired the franchise (as a result of the competition of different sections of the masters for their support) a new aspect of the question arose. In spite of all the promises of Tory and Radical, the onward march of machine industry rendered life ever more burdensome to the workers and the class conflict more acute. The science of revolution spread, much to the rulers’ dismay. A more elaborate Utopia became necessary to play the will-o’-the wisp; and the more nearly it caricatured the revolutionary policy the better.

“Advanced wings” of the capitalist parties composed of “middle-class” parasites, journalists, lawyers, parsons, professional intellectuals of every description arose with a “new Socialism” which had the advantage of not being revolutionary—oh! dear no !—while it appeared on the surface to grant all that the “extremists” asked for. All that was done was to substitute the capitalist “State” for the “community” in the revolutionary formula.

From the standpoint of the capitalist, of course, there is no difference between the words. What community does he know of other than the organisation of his class ? A community of organised workers is to him something outside the realm of “practical politics.”

To the genuine Socialist, however, the gradual purchase by the State of various concerns is but a phase of capitalist evolution. There is in it nothing more Socialistic than in the transformation of “private firms” into joint stock companies. In each case the transaction is conducted on approved business lines, the nominal ownership of material things being exchanged for interest hearing credit. Which means, for the worker, continued exploitation. Practical—isn’t it?

Parties whose political prestige is based on the boosting of this sham Utopia can never be anything but the catspaw of the master class;—of this the compromise-stained records of the I.L.P. and B.S.P. are sufficient proof.

They may pretend to be building the future “step by step,” but their imaginations, like everyone else’s, are limited to the experience of the past and present. To try and project a detailed castle in the air as “the ideal State” is, therefore, nothing more than wandering round in a circle, for their “details” are all derived from the capitalist system itself, and can, therefore, never get them out of it, and the Socialist Party of Great Britain is following the only scientific course in opposing their endeavour to get the workers to indulge in such peregrinations.

We are not keen on drawing pictures of the future. Shall slaves imagine freedom they have not known ? We are concerned with the vital present—the oppression of our class and our struggle to end it. There is only one way—to unite and seize the actual means whereby we live.

There is nothing Utopian about this. All that is lacking is the consciously revolutionary organisation powerful enough to effect the change ; and this is growing, slowly, maybe, but surely, as the results of the present relations between the workers and the tools they use, force themselves upon our attention, along with the means by which these relations are maintained, i.e., the forces of government.

Every Socialist principle is but the actual reflection of existing circumstances which, when correctly analysed and grasped in their entirety, provide us with the essential programme of a working-class political party.

Eric Boden

SPGB Meetings. (1931)

Party News from the December 1931 issue of the Socialist Standard

Blogger's Note:

• There is more information about Hull Branch's Dan Billany at the following link.
• J. Horner, the speaker at the Sheffield meeting, was Joseph Henry Horner. A former member of the British Socialist Party, he was a member of the SPGB from January 1930 until lapsing his membership in March 1933.
• D. Goldberg was David Goldberg. He joined the Hackney Branch of the SPGB in March 1925. He joined the armed forces whilst a member during World War II, and was killed in action during the Italian campaign. He is briefly mentioned in Barltrop's The Monument.
• David Lamond of Edinburgh first joined the SPGB in April 1926, and possibly rejoined in March 1930. (No mention of why he may have left the SPGB in between those years.) There is an all too brief obituary for him in the February 1967 issue of the Socialist Standard.