Clear Thinking (1960)

Book Review from the December 1960 issue of the Socialist Standard

Thinking to Some Purpose, by L. Susan Stebbing. Penguin Books (2/6).

Do you know what special pleading is? Would you recognise a syllogism if you saw one? Do you realise the fallacies that may lie behind an “average” figure?

If you are a Socialist—reading, discussing, arguing about Socialism—you will know how necessary it is to be able to detect fallacies in your opponent’s arguments. And, for that matter, in your own. Thinking to Some Purpose will enable you to recognise immediately all the most common fallacies. It gives the groundwork of logic, put in simple, straightforward terms.

Special pleading, for example. This arises when someone makes an assertion that apparently applies to everyone, and yet clearly it is never intended to apply to the speaker. The speaker, in other words, makes an implied “special plea” in his own favour.

  You may hear a person who lives on a large inherited income complaining that the “dole” given to the unemployed “pauperizes” them by giving them the means of subsistence without working for it. Or, again, wealthy people sometimes argue that, if higher wages were paid to bricklayers and miners, for instance, they will only spend the extra money on amusements, such as the cinema and football pools; yet these same people may defend their own expenditure on amusements and luxuries on the ground that they are giving employment.

Miss Stebbing also quotes the well-known example of special pleading from Archdeacon Paley’s Reasons for Contentment addressed to the Labouring Part of the British Public, part of which runs:

  But no man can rest who has not worked. Rest is the cessation of labour. It cannot, therefore, be enjoyed, or tasted, except by those who have known fatigue. The rich see, and not without envy, the refreshment and pleasure which rest affords to the poor, and choose to wonder that they cannot find the same enjoyment in being free from the necessity of working at all.

Archdeacon Paley is saying here, in effect, that a poor labouring life is (for various reasons) a good thing; but at the same time he enters an implied “special plea” on behalf of the rich, since obviously these arguments are not intended to apply to them. As Miss Stebbing says, the poor “may have found it difficult to believe that the rich, who showed no eagerness to become poor, were in fact envious of the conditions imposed by poverty.”

To come to the second of the questions at the beginning of the article, a syllogism is a group of three statements, of such a kind that if the first two (the premises) are true, then the third (the conclusion) must also be true. For example:

All grass is green.This plant is grass.Therefore—This plant is green.

One of the reasons why one should be able to recognise a syllogism is that it enables one to see what isn’t a syllogism. We have all heard arguments like this:

I read in the paper that John Jones had knocked down an old woman and stolen her money.John Jones is a negro.Therefore all Negroes knock down old women and steal their money.

When written out in this way, the argument is obviously absurd. But it is on this level that very much political argument is carried on, and one has to be prepared to see it for what is is, and to counter it.

As for averages, it has to be remembered that while they are useful in summarizing information in some cases, in others they may well mislead. Suppose, for example, that in one group of eleven people, ten received £500 a year, and one £5,000 a year. It could be concluded that they all had enough to live on, because the average income of these eleven people is over £900. But, of course, that would be totally misleading. The average used here is what is called the “arithmetic mean”—that is, the figure obtained by adding up all the items in the group and dividing by the total number of items. A much better idea of the realities of the situation could be obtained by taking the mode, that is the item in the group that occurs most frequently, or the typical representative of the group. In the above group, the mode income is £500 a year, since ten of the eleven people in the group receive it. But very often the newspapers or political speakers use the arithmetic mean where the mode would be more appropriate, to try to prove, for example, that we “all” spend fantastic sums per week on tobacco, or drink, or gambling, and that therefore we must “all” be very well off.

Miss Stebbing covers all these and many other points of logic. She was not a Socialist. But she wrote a book which will be read with profit by anyone who wishes to train himself to think clearly.

Alwyn Edgar

Anarchism and Socialism (1979)

From the April 1979 issue of the Socialist Standard

Plekhanov’s book Anarchism and Socialism is a treasure. Not only did he clearly state the case against the anarchists of his day but he also analysed utopian socialism. For Plekhanov, Anarchism was a decadent form of utopianism. For Eleanor Marx Aveling, who translated his book in 1895, "under any circumstances Anarchism is but another word for reaction; and the more honest the men and women who play this reactionist game, the more tragic and dangerous it becomes for the whole working class movement".

The book's central point, made equally effectively in the translator’s preface and the introduction by Robert Rives La Monte, to the 1907 Kerr edition, is the importance of political action. Both Eleanor Marx and La Monte point to the failure of the Socialist League as evidence that "every revolt from the Socialist Party in America, which is based on disgust with the fact that it is a ‘pure and simple’ political party of ‘ballot-worshippers’ is destined to repeat the history of the Socialist League” (La Monte).

Plekhanov begins, however, not with the Anarchists at all but with an analysis of utopian socialism:-

The Utopian is one who, starting from an abstract principle, seeks for a perfect social organisation.

The abstract principle on which utopian socialists like Morelly, Fourier. Owen and Saint Simon based their arguments was "human nature.” But scientific socialism showed that this was not constant: “while man, in order to maintain his existence, acts upon nature outside himself, he alters his own naure”. Since Marx, wrote Plekhanov, the revolutionary socialist movement was no longer founded on an abstract principle or an ideal of a "perfect legislation” in total conformity with human nature, but on “a scientifically demonstrable economic necessity”. The struggle between workers and the capitalist class, he declared, must become a political one:-

Every class war is a political one. In order to do away with feudal society the bourgeoisie had to seize upon political power. In order to do away with capitalist society the proletariat must do the same. Its political task is therefore traced out for it beforehand by the force of events themselves, and not by any abstract consideration.

Rooted in the class struggle and the interests of the working class, Plekhanov lashed into the Anarchists, dealing in some depth with their naive, crazy notions. There was Max Stirner: "for me there is nothing above myself”. Stirner’s League of Egoists, wrote Plekhanov, was "the Utopia of a petty bourgeois in revolt". Some of Stirner’s ideas still surface from time to time in eccentric Tory circles and leagues of small shopkeepers, imbued with the same spirit of "bourgeois individualism".

Proudhon's ideas on the social constitution and on ending capitalism without political action or class struggle are debunked by Plekhanov, who points out with irony the many blatant contradictions in Proudhon's theories.

Bakunin is dealt with next. "I detest Communism, because it is the negation of liberty, and I cannot conceive anything human without liberty”, he declared, thus revealing his basic utopianism. "I am not a Communist, because Communism concentrates and causes all the forces of society to be absorbed by the State, because it necessarily ends in the centralisation of property in the hands of the State".

Bakunin also expressed clearly the characteristic mistake of Anarchist thinking, that is, the idea that the State should be smashed since its oppression is the cause of exploitation. In this belief can be seen the Utopian’s ignorance of hard economic facts, of the historical process and of the role of the State, as necessary to class-based economic systems. As capitalism has become an intolerable fetter on the productive forces, the working class must abolish it. The State will not be abolished: it will wither away, like an uprooted weed. Rut as long as class ownership of wealth exists, smashing the State is futile—a new form of State will always arise, as weeds do when their roots are left in the soil.

The Anarchists are mistaken in believing the abolition of the State would achieve emancipation. The events of 1917, when Lenin, destroying the old State with his programme "All power to the Soviets", only succeeded in creating a new form of State, and new methods of exploitation, are evidence of the futility of such tactics. Capitalism can only be ended by the working class taking political action, not to smash the State, but to abolish the wages system.

Bakunin distinguished between social revolution and political revolution. Plekhanov answered, in memorable terms:-

Every class struggle being necessarily a political struggle, it is evident that every political revolution, worthy of the name, is a social revolution; it is evident also that for the proletariat the political struggle is as much a necessity as it has always been for every class struggling to emancipate itself.

Adrift from political action. Bakunin and his followers encouraged terrorist tactics—the "propaganda by deed” which still sporadically hits the headlines in many countries—Italy, Spain, Germany, Japan. Mexico, Argentina, US and England.

"Error has its logic as well as truth. Once you reject the political action of the working-class, you are fatally driven —provided you do not wish to serve the bourgeois politicians—to accept the tactics of the Vaillants and the Henrys", observed Plekhanov. After parliamentarism was discarded, the tactics of riots and isolated uprisings were abandoned since workers, sensibly, did not want anything to do with such suicidal tactics. What was left? For the Anarchist, either syndicalism (equally disastrous) or the individual gesture, the assassin with a bomb in his briefcase—"doing the work if not receiving the pay of a spy”, as La Monte put it.

The result of the Anarchist movement’s rejection of political struggle in favour of syndicalism or terrorism is to weaken the working class movement and to encourage the forces of reaction. Special police agents infiltrate all working class organisations, laws are passed and special measures enforced which handicap socialists in their activity. Workers become hostile and reactionary. Revolution becomes a dirty word. Socialism is seen as dangerous lunacy. As Plekhanov said, "An Anarchist is a man who—when he is not a police agent—is fated always and everywhere to attain the opposite of that which he attempts to achieve".

For its chapter on scientific socialism alone, clear and concise, this book deserves to stand alongside the best-known works of Marx and Engels.

Charmian Skelton

Oscar Wilde and Socialism (1961)

From the January 1961 issue of the Socialist Standard

The Soul of Man under Socialism by Oscar Wilde; included in "Essays and Poems of Oscar Wilde". Penguin Books 2s. 6d.

Oscar Wilde died before the Socialist Party had been founded. It would therefore be a barren exercise at this stage to debate whether Wilde was a Socialist in the exact meaning of that term. What is beyond doubt is that there is in this essay much that the Socialist will agree with. and much more that could form the basis of rewarding discussion. There is no need to be off by the title: by "soul" Wilde clearly meant nothing more than mind—his choice of words has no religious implications.

It is true that part of the essay has little to do with Socialism in any economic sense—nearly half of it is taken up by a diatribe against any attempt at dictation to the artist, whether by government or public opinion. But when Wilde keeps to what is directly relevant, it is a joy to read his sparkling prose, and to see how he hammers his points home.

What of the do-gooders, for example, who try to alleviate the ills of society by well-meaning charity? Wilde writes:

Their remedies do not cure the disease; they merely prolong it. Indeed, their remedies are part of the disease. They try to solve the problem of poverty, for instance, by keeping the poor alive; or, in the case of a very advanced school, by amusing the poor. But this is not a solution: it is an aggravation of the difficulty. The proper aim is to try and reconstruct society on such a basis that poverty will be impossible . . . It is immoral to use private property in order to alleviate the horrible evils that result from the institution of private property. It is both immoral and unfair.

Of the poor, Wilde says:

Why should they be grateful for the crumbs that fall from the rich man’s table? They should be seated at the board, and are beginning to know it.

As for those of the workers who accept their conditions, who have "made private terms with the enemy":

I can quite understand a man accepting laws that protect private property, and admit of its accumulation, as long as he himself is able under those conditions to realise some form of beautiful and intellectual life. But it is almost incredible to me how a man whose life is marred and made hideous by such laws can possibly acquiesce in their continuance.

Wilde would have nothing to do with state capitalism that is now often passed off as "Socialism":

If the Socialism is authoritarian; if there are Governments armed with economic power as they are now with political power; if, in a word, we are to have Industrial tyrannies, then the last state of man will be worse than the first.

He saw that a revolutionary change in the economic basis of society was necessary, and that this would have inevitable repercussions in the social superstructure:

When private property is abolished there will be no necessity for crime, no demand for it; it will cease to exist . . . Though a crime may not be against property, it may spring from the misery and rage and depression produced by our wrong system of property-holding, and so, when that system is abolished, will disappear . . . Crime will either cease to exist, or, if it occurs, will be treated by physicians as a very distressing form of dementia, to be cured by care and kindness.

Of the future economic organisation of society, Wilde remarks: "The community by means of organisation of machinery will supply the useful things, and . . . the beautiful things will be made by the individual." By individualism Wilde means the full development of man's personality, the possibility of which has been crushed by the institution of private property. The whole essay could be summed up in this paragraph from it:

With the abolition of private property, then, we shall have true, beautiful, healthy individualism. Nobody will waste his life in accumulating things, and the symbols for things. One will live. To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.

This essay is a mine in which only half an hour's reading will reveal many Socialist gems.

Alwyn Edgar

The Philanthropists (1960)

From the November 1960 issue of the Socialist Standard

The Ragged-Trousered Philanthropists, by Robert Tressell; edited text published by Grant Richards in 1914. Complete text published by Lawrence & Wishart in 1951

This novel may come to be recognised as one of the masterpieces of this century. A novel, after all, is a piece of fiction which tells us something of life and of society. Hazlitt said about the novel: "We find here a close imitation of man and manners: we see the very web and texture of society as it really exists, and as we meet it when we come into the world." And Sir Desmond McCarthy wrote: "It is extremely doubtful whether the aim of the novel is to make an aesthetic appeal. Passages in it may do so: but it aims also at satisfying our curiosity about life as much as satisfying the aesthetic sense." If there are the criteria by which we are to judge novels, then The Ragged-Trousered Philanthropists must stand very high indeed. It tells us more about "society as it really exists," and about human beings and their relations with each other—"man and manners"—than you wind in many well-stocked libraries.

For the great central relationship in our society is that between employer and worker: by it, to a greater or less degree, almost all the other relationships in society are affected. And that is Tressell's theme. In a sparse, direct style (all the more remarkable when one remembers the level of popular writing in the pre-Great War era out of which his book came) Tressell tells the story of a group of men, painters and labourers who are re-decorating a house. He follows several of them (in particular the central figure, Frank Owen) to their homes, and shows how they live. Partly through the arguments among the men at work, partly through their experiences in their daily lives, Tressell lays bare the real nature of society.

One can marvel how apposite (despite changes in inessentials) the book's picture of society is today. You may get the flavour of the book from a random quotation:

"But money in itself is not wealth," returned Owen;—"It's of no use whatever."
At this there was another outburst of jeering laughter.
"Supposing, for example, that you and Harlow were shipwrecked on a desolate island, and you had nothing from the wreck but a bag containing a thousand sovereigns, and he had a tin of biscuits and a bottle of water."
"Make it beer!" cried Harlow appealingly.
"Who would be the richer man, you or Harlow?"
"But then you see we ain't shipwrecked on no dissolute island at all," sneered Crass. "That's the worse of your arguments. You can't never get very far without supposing some bloody ridiculous thing or other. Never mind about supposing things wot ain't true; let's 'ave facts and common sense.
"'Ear, 'ear," said old Linden. "That's wot we want—a little common sense."
What do you mean by poverty, then?" asked Easton.
"What I call poverty is when people are not able to secure for themselves al' the benefits of civilisation—the necessaries, comforts, pleasures and refinements of life: leisure, books, theatres, pictures, music, holidays, travel, good and beautiful homes, good clothes, good and pleasant food . . . If a man is only able to provide himself and his family with the bare necessaries of existence, that man's family is living in poverty. Since he cannot enjoy the advantages of civilisation he might just as well be a savage; better, in fact, for a savage does not know what he is deprived of . . ."

But one would have to quote the whole book to do it justice. It makes you laugh, it saddens you, but most of all it makes you angry. It is impossible not to be deeply moved by it. If you have read it already, you will not need to be told how good it is. If you haven't, then buy or borrow a copy as soon as possible.

Alwyn Edgar

Leaders of the Blind (1960)

From the October 1960 issue of the Socialist Standard

This is the first of a series of articles reappraising books which were part of almost every socialist's library in the early part of this century.

Ten Blind Leaders of the Blind, by Arthur M. Lewis: published in Chicago by Charles H. Kerr and Company in 1908.

This is a volume of ten lectures delivered by Mr. Lewis in America before the first world war. Mr. Lewis claims to be a Socialist, but is really, like so many others who make the same claim, only a Social Democrat (in British terms, a Labourite). Nevertheless, this book is full of interest to any Socialist.

It deals with ten politicians, writers, and philosophers. Some of them are now forgotten; a few people these days have heard of Benjamin Kidd and Professor Richard Ely. Yet it is instructive to be reminded of some of these erstwhile worthies. Bishop Spalding, for example, speaking of the contrast between rich and poor, the bishop had this to say:

That the cause of this disparity of condition is moral rather than economic whoever observes may see; and this fact gives emphasis to the great truth that all real amelioration in the lot of human beings depends on religious, moral and intellectual conditions. Money does not make a miser rich nor its lack a true man poor . . . For the most fortunate men life is full of difficulties and troubles: for the poorest it may be filled with light, peace and blessedness.
In a Socialist State, in which the universal ideal is that of physical well-being and comfort, the sublimer moods which make saints, heroes, and men of genius possible would no longer be called forth.

So it is not only ourselves who have had to listen to bishops telling us that we are poor because of "moral conditions," and that the poorest may be "filled with blessedness," whatever that means: our forefathers had to put up with this cant as well. On the other hand, the spectacle of bishops, who are notoriously well-provided in point of "physical well-being and comfort" even to non-bishops, must have been as entertaining then as it is now.

Other of Mr. Lewis's subjects are remembered now only as historical curiosities. One such is Henry George, who proposed that landlords should be made to turn all their rent over to the state. This would give the state a sufficient income, and no one else would then have to pay any taxes. Henry George's Land Tax movement, to which reformers flocked in the last part of the nineteenth century, was of course the outcome of the reluctance of the capitalists to pay for the running of the countries which they ruled. As Marx said of earlier proposals of the same kind: "This is the frank expression of hatred which the industrial capitalist entertains for the landowner, who seems to him a useless or superfluous entity in the scheme of bourgeois or capitalist production." But the only people who can pay for the running of a capitalist country are the capitalists: and Henry George's land tax schemes have been exploded for many years.

Another curiosity is Cesare Lombroso. It is astounding now to recall that he became famous for his theories that the causes of crime were in physical build: that men became murderers and thieves because of the shape of their skulls or the colour of their hair. He wrote books purporting, for example, to show that "prostitutes have smaller skulls, lighter hair, darker eyes, heavier bodies, and shorter feet than normal women."

Thomas Carlyle

It is not now necessary to argue against Lombroso. But other controversies touched on by Mr. Lewis are still raging with undiminished fury. The chapter on Thomas Carlyle is largely concerned with the "Great Man Theory," which still has its devotees. This theory, in Carlyle's words, holds that "Universal History, the history of what man has accomplished in this world, is at bottom the history of the great men who have worked here." It is the leaders, the politicians, the inventors (say the apologists of this school) who go ahead of mankind, who mould history according to their ideas, who change the entire course of a nation's progress by their sudden, brilliant decisions. For example, in Carlyle's view the whole Reformation depended on Luther. If he had recanted when the Roman Catholic authorities summoned him to appear before them, the entire Reformation (in his view) would never have occurred. But to believe this one has to ignore the fact that the ruling class of much of Europe was on the verge of revolt over the revenues that the Catholic Church drained away from their no subjects: no ruling class is content with half the surplus value of its subjects, if it thinks there is the faintest chance of getting it all. The atmosphere was that of a powder magazine. When a powerful class is ready for revolt, any spark will set it off: if Luther had not provided the spark in this case, then somebody else would. 

Mr. Lewis also deals with the case of invention and discovery. The "Great Man Theory" says that inventors and discoverers are men who independently strike out in front of the rest of mankind, and by the sheer force of intellect or character mark out the road which the human race is to follow. But this is to go sadly wide of the facts. When the material conditions, and the productive processes, of a certain country have reached a stage where a new step is both desirable and possible, then inventors will do the rest. If one fails, another will succeed. Very often an invention or discovery is made independently by two or more people. For example, the telescope was invented independently by Jansen, by Lippershey, and by Galileo in the space of two years. Oxygen was discovered independently by Priestley and by a Swedish village apothecary. The nebular theory of the universe was discovered both by Kant and by Laplace. The planet Neptune was discovered by Adams and by Leverrier. The principle of evolution by natural selection was discovered by Darwin, and also, at the same time, by Alfred Russell Wallace. The materialist conception of history was discovered by both Marx and by Engels. These famous examples, along with other evidence, are marshalled skilfully by Mr. Lewis in this chapter.

Immanuel Kant

Another chapter which is worth careful reading is that on Kant. Kant was one of those philosophers who devoted themselves to endeavours to bolster up religion. Religious belief cannot be supported by reason, as religious apologists are often ready to admit. Why, then, should one believe what is not rational? A common theological answer is—Faith: you cannot reason out the existence of a God, but you must have Faith that he is there all the same. Which is much the same as saying, you cannot believe, but still you must believe.

This was the problem that Kant tackled. He started off by maintaining, in his Critique of Pure Reason, that we cannot see things as they really are, only as they appear to be. The two tools by which men understand the world, experience and reason, were thus written off. One suspects that this was because neither experience nor reason can support religious belief. Having cleared the ground, Kant then passed on to the question of how we can come to know the "eternal verities"—a phrase which usually includes religious belief. He had to find a source of knowledge independent of experience and reason. In his Critique of Practical Reason, he brings forward his answer: we must dive down inside our own consciousness, and there we will find the great necessary and universal truths. And what are these great and universal truths? Kant scrabbled around in his own consciousness, and came up with his own list. No prizes are offered for guessing what they were: a personal God, free will, and a future life were all there—all the usual rag-bag of religious beliefs.  One can imagine the howl of derision that would go up if a Socialist attempted to justify his beliefs with such transparent taradiddle: but because Kant supported the political and religious beliefs of the owning class, he was honoured as a great philosopher, and still is.

The beliefs of Kant, and the beliefs of Carlyle, are still held by many who support the present system of society. If only to read these two chapters it is worthwhile getting hold of this book.

Alwyn Edgar