Saturday, September 12, 2015

One person, one vote (1981)

From the December 1981 issue of the Socialist Standard

Down the centuries upholders of privilege have recognised and feared the power of the masses to overthrow the rulers of society; but it took a poet to flip the coin of fear and turn it into a joke:
If you make a revolution, make it for fun,
don't make it in ghastly seriousness,
don't do it in deadly earnest . . .
do it just to spit in their eye.
(D. H. Lawrence, A Sane Revolution.)
Fear, irony and humour characterise the responses of many who contemplate for long the oddity that rulers are few and the ruled are many. Plato thought about it a lot:
The third group is the mass of the people, who earn their own living, take little interest in politics, and aren't very well off. They are the largest class in a democracy, and once assembled are supreme.
(Plato, The Republic, p.385, Penguin, 1975)
His ironic response was to spin out an analogy between society and a bee-hive. He wanted all drones cleared out of the hive and replaced by three brainwashed classes of people, presided over by a philosopher-king, who alone stung everyone into submission with a venomous dialectic.

The fearful response to popular power sometimes contains a magical incantation, as when Edmund Burke tried to ward off the evil influence of the French Revolution from his English readers:
We fear God; we look up with awe to kings; with affection to parliaments; with duty to magistrates; with reverence to priests; and with respect to nobility.
(Revolutions 1775-1830. (ed) M. Williams, Penguin, 1971, pp. 108-9.)
It is indeed a heathenish thing for the masses to rise up and bite the hand that whips them!

Goodbye To All That
Fear is creeping into Margaret Thatcher's voice now; with unemployment rising to three million and bankruptcies soaring, and yet insists she's doing us good. Presumably she'll get booted out at the next election and replaced by an earnest Labourite, or a smarmy Liberal-Social Democrat, who'll play at ruling capitalism for a further five years.

What potential for revolution remains among the workers now that parliamentary democracy has made the barricade and the guillotine decadent, even absurd, as a way of removing and chastising Thatcher?

One person, one vote: the implication of this democratic slogan is that there is a revolutionary use for the cube of black-japanned metal — the ballot box. It would not have amused Lawrence, would have puzzled Plato and infuriated Burke; but is something Thatcher and the working class could come to terms with. The ballot can dictate the shape of society. Provided Thatcher displays only the usual amount of incompetence over the next two years, then not the fulminations of Foot, not the hysteria of left-wingers and not the self-starvation of all terrorists will remove her from office. Yet sometime in 1984 she will meekly accept the probable dictate of the ballot box and cease to rule with her usual bad grace. Capitalism could be deposed throughout the world in just the same way; after all, how could an "ism" fight back?

Individuals are the bearers or agents of ideologies. When you vote, you put a cross against the name of someone and the sum total of ideologies borne by the successful names yields the style of society around you — give or take a nuclear hiccup or two. Putting a cross on a ballot for revolution would be much the same — give or take a capitalist or two. What about a world-wide referendum, where the ballot paper reads "capitalism or socialism: place a cross against your choice"?

Hello New World
But the simplest revolutionary use of the ballot box would be to nominate and vote for individuals as bearers of the ideology of the masses — the working class. Theirs is a beautifully simple ideology, well-fitted for revolution. It goes something like this:
Politicians never do the workers any good.
If you want something done, do it yourself.
Labour is the source of wealth and only a fool says otherwise.
You'll never change the world until you get the vast majority to agree.
The political programme to fit this goes as follows:
One person, one vote;
therefore the last thing we need are politicians and leaders;
therefore if anything is to be done to the world all must do their bit;
therefore away with all that nonsense about banks,
advertising and invisible earnings creating wealth — it's brain and brawn that will do it all;
therefore you can stick your United Nations, your summit meetings, your social security plans and all the rest;
we've got to talk it out like we do down the pub — then pick our team.
Strange that a colossal social system like capitalism can be toppled by something as ordinary as the process used by a darts club to choose team members; by the method an angling club uses to select venues for a season; by the way the local women's institute decides who'll make the sausage rolls, make the cakes and cut the sandwiches for the next whist drive. Yet all socialism requires is that workers put their heads together and decide about society, stick their men and women in the parliaments of the world and stick their fingers up at all those who said it couldn't be done.
B. K. McNeeney

Party News: Conway Hall Meeting (1980)

From the December 1980 issue of the Socialist Standard

The Bomb and the Dole Queue—Abolish the Cause, brought 110 people on November 10 to Conway Hall. Three speakers dealt with the subject matter. Steve Coleman, referring to the weapons of mass destruction, denied the relevance of a new-born CND in dealing with this issue. Socialists were not discriminatory; they opposed war in all its forms. E. Hardy showed the absurdity of Labour and Tory Government schemes to deal with unemployment. More, or less, government expenditure had little impact on the dole queue. This was an in-built feature of a system based on production for profit. Dick Donnelly from Glasgow Branch posed the socialist alternative to capitalism that gives rise not only to the problems dealt with by the other speakers but additional problems that were a chunk of working class life. He rammed home the need for workers to reject all leaders and media imposed ideas, and work for socialism where human needs will be the determining factor. A world of co-operation with social conditions that allowed men and women to realise their potential.

Nearly an hour of questions and discussion followed. Dick Donnelly rounded the meeting off with a moving and lucid exhortation to workers to join us now in establishing a harmonious, classless society, quoting Marx's message to the working class, "You have nothing to lose but your chains. You have a world to gain".

Capitalism — No (1979)

From the December 1979 issue of the Socialist Standard

The Class War goes on without respite; this relentless struggle between us and our masters brings with it industrial conflict, poverty, humiliation, insanity and the wars which are fought for the world markets.

In the quest for profit all decent human feelings are pushed aside. Millions starve while mountains of food are burnt or dumped into the sea. If it is more profitable to produce arms than food, then so be it. People live in slums while luxurious flats stand empty because no one can afford to pay the rents.

All this happens because of the system under which we live. Capitalism's wealth is not produced for need but to make a profit. A tiny minority of the population live off the surplus value produced by the majority. These parasites are the owners of the means of production (mines, factories, land, machinery). With the help of the State (police, army and so on) they suppress and exploit the workers. It is the workers who toil all day in the mines and factories and on the land to produce the food, clothing and the other goods we need to live.

After they have produced all this wealth, the workers meekly let the capitalist class steal it from them (legally). This theft takes place at the point of production. The workers are paid a wage which is far below the value of what they actually produce. Their wages will only buy enough food, clothing and fuel to keep them in reasonable "working order".

Under capitalism the people who contribute nothing to society receive the greatest rewards and live a life of idle luxury. The workers are forced to live in poverty while progress and technology are held back until it is 'profitable' and human need and welfare come a poor second to profit. The only solution is socialism, where we will produce for need, not profit, and human welfare will be the prime consideration. We will see an end to misery, starvation and wars; all will work to the best of their ability and will be able to satisfy their needs. Only then will men and women be able to live their lives with satisfaction and dignity.
P. Maratty

Letters: 'Corbyn for Leader?' (2015)

Letters to the Editors from the September 2015 issue of the Socialist Standard

Corbyn for Leader?

Dear Editors,

There are several good reasons why World Socialists should welcome the election of Jeremy Corbyn to the role of Labour Party Leader or Her Majesty’s Opposition Leader in the UK, if in indeed he makes it beyond any dirty tricks from his opponents in the party. Corbyn win or lose, his success now marks the end of the long ‘politically repressive’ Thatcher period.

Bill Martin’s little piece on Corbyn (Socialist Standard, August) rather missed the points, unfortunately!  Sure, Corbyn’s socialism is not our Socialism and that’s not the point either.

In the USA Obama was called a socialist (laughingly!) and now there is a candidate Bernie Sanders, A self-described ‘democratic socialist’ on a Corbyn-like ticket doing well so far in the US Presidential Election Party Primaries. If he doesn’t win the Democratic nomination he’ll force Hillary Clinton leftwards to beat him, much as Corbyn here has done with both Burnham and Copper. Most would agree that for a person in the USA (of all places) to be doing well in a national poll and openly calling himself a ‘socialist’, of any kind, is pretty good progress for politics there. Not since Upton Sinclair in the 1930’s.

What has that got to do with Corbyn?

Well ‘Socialist Standard’ regulars (World Socialists) know that Corbyn’s socialism is not ours, but his popularity and success and should he win here will definitely (no doubts about it) legitimize and popularize the word ‘socialism’ again in the UK politics. This word since Thatcher has all but been banned and junked by the media (TV, radio and newspapers) and these outlets are where most of the public/voters still get their politics. Also junked by Labour Leaders.

Therefore, the same effect as with Sanders in the USA will likely happen here in the UK. But more again will happen here as it will likely happen in the USA. What? The word ‘socialism’ being currency again (sorry for the association) will lead some to research socialism and they’ll come up with the SPGB & WSPUSA (World Socialist Party of the United States) in their results page!

There is another reason in that World Socialists welcome working people getting a better share of the wealth in the meantime and Corbyn as British Prime Minister will achieve this for workers.

A third reason will prove that the left cannot solve the problem of the disintegrating capitalist society - a society to which the term ‘impossibilism’ is better now applied to than to World Socialism. Thus Corbyn is merely a prelude to much more meaningful discussions about capitalism and socialism.

Finally, Bill Martin, a more positive outlook is required from you sir, and not to stick to ‘political elitism’ which is exactly the outlook of British Labour Party leaders now in their tirade against Corbyn!

William Dunn, 
Glasgow

Reply:
We were careful in choosing our description of Jeremy Corbyn as being 'Harold Wilson' warmed up.' In the 1960s policies very like the ones Corbyn is advocating were tried. They didn't aid the course of socialism; they led to disillusionment and workers voting for Margaret Thatcher.

It is no good getting the word socialism back on the political agenda if it is again to be associated with statism, taxation and nationalisation. If there has been one consistent theme to the Socialist Party's campaigning it has been that we need to be clear about what socialism is and what is needed to achieve it, and we cannot welcome anything that will create confusion and muddle, however well intentioned.

We recognised that much of the ‘Corbynmania’ phenomenon is that 'the desires of workers (however misinformed and locked into the logic of markets) will have forced their way into the halls of power.' What that means, though, is that we have to continue to work hard to put forward and explain the socialist case to dispel the misinformation. There are no short cuts, and whether the workers support Thatcher or Corbyn doesn't change the need for clear socialist agitation.

That is not elitist at all, it is the democratic approach. – Editors.

************************************************************

Blacklisted

Dear Editors,

In the mid-1970s the Mail and the Sun attacked the ‘left’ in my union branch of the CPSA (now PCS), Department of Environment and Transport HQ, for 'concealing' their political views before standing for election to the Branch Committee. They could not charge me with dissembling' – because I was an open Communist and the papers' report noted this, without naming me. In fact, against trusted and CPSA ‘Moderators’, Janet Daly of the Tory Party, and Militant Tendency, I won three successive elections for Branch Secretary.

In 1984 Gordon Leake of the Express (a self-confessed ex-BOSS member-turned-journalist) claimed that the CPSA branch at GCHQ did not exist. In fact, Diane Green, its branch secretary, a member of the BL84 faction (the one in which Communists and Socialist caucuses and non-Militant members participated) was elected to CPSA’s National Executive.

In 1996, the GCHQ Staff Association (formed after Thatcher had barred GCHQ unions), lost its appeal to the Certification Officer (a Thatcherite creation), for funds from the Thatcher fund for union postal ballots. The reason was the heavy dependence of the 'union' on Peter Marychurch, the GCHQ director, for facility time, accommodation and telephone.

D. Shepherd, 
London NW4

They Shoot Cowards, Don't They? (1997)

From the November 1997 issue of the Socialist Standard

Eighty years ago, some ten million lives were lost in World War One. Among these countless casualties was a small group of about three hundred and fifty who are not remembered each November when the dignitaries assemble at the Cenotaph and lay their patronising wreaths of poppies.

Recently, this select few have been in the news, and not for the first time; their deaths were, and still are, the subject of controversy. Readers of the Socialist Standard would no doubt consider the death of any human being in the pursuit of property and resources highly controversial. However, the reason the fate of this tiny proportion of those who died so long ago continues to be debated today is because they didn't die a "heroic" death at the hands of the enemy. They were shot by their own comrades.

To the uninitiated, or the naive, or just the logically-minded, this may come as a shock. Surely the job of an army is to slaughter marauding foreigners, not its own troops? Wrong. The job of an army is to do the state's dirty work, that is to plunder land, wealth and raw materials, as well as secure routes for international trade, or to prevent another state from doing same. This definition of any army's role does not preclude murder within the ranks. Granted, killing your own chaps doesn't sound like an efficient way to run an army, but the legally-sanctioned execution of comrades-in-arms during World War One was not only efficient, it was absolutely necessary.

Those who died by the bullets of their fellow troops were not ordinary soldiers, not normal men. They were of that rare perverted persuasion which knew fear and a sense of self-preservation. It may sound obtuse to suggest that a soldier who is afraid of going into battle is some sort of oddity, but that is precisely what the army wanted the average Tommy to think. If you suppose that fear probably comes as naturally to a soldier as brown paper bags to a Tory MP, you'd surely be right. But the army has a special term for people who respond rationally to this entirely natural emotion: they are known as "cowards".

The issue of those who were branded and shamed with this term during the First World War has come to the fore once again presumably because of the election of the new Labour government; there is apparently new hope for campaigners of obtaining pardons for their relatives. They have reiterated that there is evidence and expert opinion which now points to the likelihood that the majority of "cowards" were in fact suffering from some form of mental illness, and not in full command of their senses. It would seem more likely however that anyone who wishes to avoid almost certain death is in an absolutely sound state of mind.

Irrevocable punishment
The fact that advocates for these men are relying on the "shell shock" defence suggests one of two things. Either they genuinely believe that anyone in his or her right mind should willingly and dutifully have gone into battle in a war which took senseless carnage and breathtaking incompetence to new pinnacles; or they simply believe that this is the only chance of restoring the tarnished reputation of the family name. It's interesting that nobody seems to have questioned the morality of executing a man for refusing to endanger his own life; or recognising that he may have been averse to murdering his "enemies", who were terrified soldiers like himself, strangers against whom he had no grudge. That, surely, is justification in itself for laying down arms.

It seems astonishing now, in slightly more lenient times, that the government of the day could have permitted such summary and irrevocable punishment for its own servicemen, especially as the accused had no representation and no right of appeal. However, the practice has to be viewed in the light of the circumstances in which much of World War One was fought, particularly in the trenches. This essentially involved massing thousands of men and then sending them like lemmings towards the enemy lines, resulting in catastrophic casualties, often in order to gain just a few yards of ground, if any. Given that such behaviour, except to the seriously mentally unbalanced or the suicidal, naturally appeared to be utter lunacy, the politicians had to provide some incentive to persuade the potentially sceptical recruits to act like madmen. The principal methods of course were propaganda and flattery. After character defamation of the enemy, using easily understood terms such as "evil Bosch" or "filthy Hun", conscripts were told that it was their duty and privilege to rid the world of such despicable degenerates. Having preserved democracy and fair play, and saved England for all decent, God-fearing citizens, the troops would then be welcomed home as heroes and be forever intoxicated by the eternal gratitude of their countrymen.

Not surprisingly, it occurred to the top brass in the army that such shameless patronising might not wash with a few who cared to examine even cursorily their justification for mass slaughter of innocent human beings. And if only a few sceptics concluded that they were being duped, they might well persuade many others to lay down their arms and take up flower pressing instead. Therefore, an extra "incentive" was required, and this was where the ruthless efficiency of the military came into its own. It would have done no good to tell a dissenter that he was a naughty boy and to sit in the corner for the rest of the day; nor would there have been any point in threatening to send him to prison for life. After all, he would still have his life. No, the only way to ensure that insanity prevailed was to offer a Hobson's Choice: either go over the top and face almost certain death, or refuse and face certain death.

Madness of war
The fact that some three hundred or more soldiers, who were presumably aware of the penalties for cowardice, still refused to fight begs an important question. As the punishment was the ultimate penalty of death, and given that actually going into battle at least provided a chance of survival, doesn't it seem likely that these men were, as the campaigners claim, suffering from severe psychological trauma, be it shell-shock, or just the horror of seeing the gruesome demise of their comrades? In that case there would have been grounds for clemency, because these men were clearly not "cowards", but were deeply disturbed. Alas, such a distinction would have been irrelevant, because these unfortunate few had to be made examples to all the others of what happens to those who refuse to obey suicidal orders. Little surprise then that there was no right of appeal.

To some, war is heroic; to others, it is anathema. There is only one thing that can be said for certain about wars: they are never fought in the interest of those who die in them. Today, Britain has a professional volunteer army, and technical advances mean that modern warfare is a much more scientific affair. The Gulf War was a high profile example of how ever more sophisticated weapons are able to accurately target enemy weaknesses. Now there are no poorly trained conscripts, and no need for battalions of troops to go "over the top", and so there is no need for summary executions to enforce discipline. The naive and innocent victims of the firing squads of eighty years ago had the misfortune to be born into a very different stage of capitalism's destructive development, when daily casualties could wipe out entire regiments.

It's difficult to imagine what must have gone through the minds of those conscripts as they huddled in their cold, damp, dirty trenches, waiting for the order to ascend into no-man's-land with only a tin hat and a rifle for protection against a phalanx of machine guns and mortars. It was a different world then, not only in the way wars were fought, but also in the way minds were moulded. Many men were no doubt torn between the love for "their" country and the love for their families. Perhaps some thought of the men on the other side of the lines whom they would be required to massacre--men with the same fears and hopes, with families waiting anxiously at home; ordinary men, no different except that they just happened to be born under another flag. Perhaps some even entertained the idea that one day the world might be free of artificial economic divisions, when co-operation would replace conflict. Alas, such fanciful ideas were for future generations to enjoy. The soldiers of the Great War were unfortunate to live in an era when courage, however you defined it, equalled death.
Nick Brunskill

The rise and fall of Labour reformism (1998)

Book Review from the July 1998 issue of the Socialist Standard

What’s Left? Labour Britain and the Socialist Tradition. By David Powell. Peter Owen. £22.50.

Socialists should know their history of the Labour Party, if only to be able to refute the claim that it was ever a socialist party and to demonstrate its failure to gradually transform capitalism into something better.

Powell’s book can serve as well as any as a source of the basic facts, especially as it is largely descriptive and devoid of any ideological perspective beyond "they’ve always been divided and that’s a bad thing" and perhaps a hint that the answer to the question "what’s left (of the original Labour Party)?" is "not a lot".

Towards the end of the last century many trade unionists felt that the trade union movement, or "Labour", should have its own party in parliament separate from both the Tories and the Liberals which represented different sections of the ruling class. Despite the election of Keir Hardie as an independent Labour MP in the 1892 election and the formation the following year of the Independent Labour Party (ILP), they didn’t make must headway (Hardie lost his seat at the 1895 election) until the House of Lords handed down their judgement in the Taff Vale case that a union could be sued for damages for loss of trade caused by a strike of its members.

This threat to their funds goaded the largely still Liberal leaders of the TUC to move and in February 1900 a conference of trade unions and various political groups (the ILP, the Fabians and Hyndman’s Social Democratic Federation) voted to set up a Labour Representation Committee. The founding resolution, which had no socialist content whatsoever, read:
"That this Conference is in favour of establishing a distinct Labour Group in Parliament who shall have their own Whips and agree upon their policy, which must embrace a readiness to co-operate with any party which, for the time being, may be engaged in promoting legislation in the direct interest of labour, and be equally ready to associate themselves with any party in opposing measures which have the opposite tendency".
The name Labour Party did not come into use until after the 1906 election when 29 MPs were elected (nearly all of them as a result of a secret, but obvious, deal with the Liberals). It was not until after the First World Slaughter, with the adoption in 1919 of a new constitution including the famous Clause IV, that individuals could join the Labour Party. Even then, Labour still didn’t officially talk about "socialism" but only about "the new social order". This, in fact, was state capitalism rather than socialism, but was seen only as a very long-term goal which the leadership never took seriously then or since.

In so far as Labour did have a theory it was taken from the Fabians, an elitist group of intellectuals (including George Bernard Shaw, H. G. Wells and Beatrice and Sidney Webb), who preached the "inevitability of gradualness": the goal of state capitalism was to be reached by a series of reform measures adopted by successive Labour governments. The first two Labour governments, both minority ones under Ramsay MacDonald, merely showed the capitalist class that Labour was "fit to govern" capitalism on their behalf. The second ended in complete disaster in 1931 when, faced with the slump, MacDonald, his Chancellor Snowden and some others in effect went over to the Tories.

Powell records the various attempts by those who took the state capitalist goal seriously to get Labour to be more than a party out to try to govern private capitalism a little less harshly than the Tories or the Liberals: from the ILP under Maxton in the 1920s (which disaffiliated from Labour in 1932), the Socialist League under Sir Stafford Cripps (later known as Sir Stifford Crapps for his role of Iron Chancellor imposing austerity on the workers in the post-war Attlee government) in the 1930s, the Bevanites in the 1950s and the Bennites in the 1970s and early 80s. They never got very far and only succeeded in ruining Labour’s electoral chances since most people wanted a humanised private capitalism rather than state capitalism.

The lesson the Labour left failed to learn was that you cannot have socialism without a majority who want and understand it. In a situation where most people still want capitalism—a situation which unfortunately has prevailed throughout the Labour Party’s existence, and still does—then what Socialists must do is not to try to get into government on a programme of reforms, but to campaign for socialism, to "make Socialists" as William Morris put it and what we’ve been trying to do since 1904 (yes, the working class could have made a different choice in the 1900s).

We might not be much nearer our goal of socialism than then, but the Labour Party has now abandoned its goal of those days of legislation favourable to trade unions and workers generally and has become Tweedledee to the Tories’ Tweedledum—which is what the Liberal Party was in 1900. They are not even an independent trade union pressure group in Parliament, but an openly pro-capitalist party.

Incidentally, we get a couple of mentions as, along with the British Socialist Party and the Socialist Labour Party (De Leon’s not Scargill’s) , one of "the warring fragments of Hyndman’s SDF" that opposed the First World War (true) and of "the congeries of Marxist factions" that were "in bullish mood following the events of October 1917" (not true).
Adam Buick

Friday, September 11, 2015

Prepare to meet thy dome (1998)

From the March 1998 issue of the Socialist Standard

In the world of nightmarish apparitions, there can be few to match the vision of the future festering away in the imagination of Peter Mandelson MP. He is the high-priest of New Labour's dream of a New Britain in which the sordid realities of capitalism evaporate into a mist of slick presentation. Acclaimed architect of the Blairite victory of imagery over experience, Mandelson has become a veritable personification of the descent of politics from ideas (however wrong they ever were) to ever-evaporating froth.

Coincidental with the messianic rise of Tony, Saviour of New Britain, and his communications conjuror, Mandelson, is a mere accident of the calendar. The century is coming to an end. This is a cyclical regularity of history which even some economists can see coming every hundred years. But this century's end is different, being the end not only of ten decades but ten whole centuries. The Millennium is coming.

It was Michael Heseltine, the Tory grandee whose vision of the future was an endless echo of the past, who was the Minister encharged with thinking up a stupid way to celebrate the coming of the new millennium. It was he, and assorted well-salaried timewasters, who came up with the idea of creating in Greenwich this vast temple to the passing of time: The Millennium Dome. That it would enable vast millions of pounds to pass into the bank accounts of building companies encharged with constructing the folly seemed like a fitting last act of a government long used to mastering the high art of the dodgy deal.

Beyond the sleazy pocket-lining involved in the creation of the Dodgy Dome, there is an even more tragic symbolism. Of what does this lousy system under which we live rob the vast majority of people? Time. It is our time itself—the living, breathing, labouring, surplus-value-producing time of the people who produce the wealth of the world—which is stolen from us so that capital can be accumulated. Time, which marks the transition between birth and death in nature, marks also the loss of freedom for the wage and salary slave. It is the time which we must surrender to those who exploit us for profit which makes us unfree. The cruel irony of telling workers to celebrate Time itself is like organising a brothel for eunuchs.

The best way we could conceivably celebrate the passing of time is to win it back as our own. We pass our time as a sacrifice to the privilege of a minority. That which is not stolen from us we call "free time" or Leisure, and this we treasure like slaves unleashed for some rare, precious moments. Most workers dare not think at length about the ways in which their time is not their own. To do so leads to feelings of depression and a need for drugged immunisation against this alienation from our freedom to live in our own way in our own time. Our time is not our own. The history not only of capitalism, but of all property society, is of time stolen from those who produce by those who possess. And when you retire, after decades of wasted time enriching a boss, they give you a watch to commemorate the endless hours that were never yours.

Mandelson goes to Disneyland
Peter Mandelson, who is Minister without Portfolio, had to be given something to do as he prowled the offices of Whitehall like a Stalinist high-apparachik, spying on his colleagues. Here is a man whose talent lies in making something out of nothing. Anyone who could sell New Labour should surely be credited with that. Here is a man for whom the empty, insubstantial froth of imagery is everything. Give him the Dome. If he can't convince people that they need it, who can? (Most of the other candidates were in open prisons or lunatic asylums.) So, the Minister without Portfolio has become the political magician entrusted with telling us to believe that the Dome is just what we always wanted.

Where does a man who specialises in froth turn for his inspiration? Karl Marx sat for years in the reading room of the British Museum, studying the detailed workings of capitalism. Charles Darwin sailed to exotic parts in search of evolutionary evidence. The Minister without Portfolio went to Disneyland, there to consort with the likes of Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck and Goofy. If they couldn't tell him the meaning of the last thousand years, who could? (The candidate from the lunatic asylum had suggested consulting the TellyTubbies, but Mandelson soon spotted that this was clearly a deranged proposal.) So, Mandelson took himself to the theme park created by the Disney Empire.

There is something apposite about Mandelson retreating to the shrine of Disney. Walt Disney, like the Minister without Portfolio, was a ruthless, ungenerous hater of the working class. When the Disney studio workers unionised Uncle Walt fired them and got scabs to run the outfit. Like Mandelson, Disney's recipe for selling the profit system consisted of large doses of well-produced imagery produced to persuade people that, despite the impoverished realities of their lives, they were having Fun. Ah, fun—that word which has been used to enwrap innumerable miseries of a heartless world. When once wage slaves went on Sundays to churches in search of illusory solace in a life of sighs, now they go to Alton Towers or for a week in Florida, California and these days France, where, after long queues and much parting with hard-earned cash, they buy the right to worship at the altar of Fun.

Mandelson became a convert. Like a drug addict stumbling into a Hare Krishna temple, the Minister for Time could see at an instant that these were people—or puppets, stuffed dummies and actors dressed up as cartoon characters—who spoke his language. When the biography of Mandelson comes to be written, "The Disney Revelation" will surely be a chapter comparable with Marx's discovery of surplus value and Galileo's recognition that the Earth moves.

(The trouble with this article, reflects the writer in a moment of troubled introspection, is that it could seem to be a rather badly invented joke. Readers in America and Africa may well conclude that there is no such person as Peter Mandelson; that he is a satirical parody created for the sake of comic attack. Surely, even in its desperate lack of self-meaning and alienated historical consciousness, capitalism's defenders do not really go to a Disney theme park to discover what life is all about. If only it were a bad joke. The tragedy lies in the veracity.)

Mandelson returned from his encounter with Micky Mouse as a man with a mission. The Millennium Dome was going to be the most impressive and appealing pointless exercise of the past thousand years. Speaking with the air of one of those vacuous French philosophers who finally turns out to be insane, Mandelson has recently been issuing some extraordinarily foolish press statements, even by his own standards. The Dome, he tells us, will be "like a doughnut". Er. Yes, Minister. A doughnut? The history of the last thousand years will be metaphorically symbolised by a doughnut. Apparently, this point is meant to indicate that the Dome will have layers. (Why not an onion? Doughnuts only have two layers. But this is to assume that one is involved for one tiny pre-millennial moment in a meaningful discussion.) The dome/doughnut will comprise three layers, the Minister has announced, each examining a different question: Who Are We? Where Do We Live? What Do We Do? The vast thousands of pounds spent in conceiving such profoundly creative questions are best left unconsidered for the moment. So, this is how we shall spend the millennium: wandering around a vast doughnut in outer London considering who we are, where we live and what we do. Of course, if we stay at home (if we have one) we could spare ourselves the second conundrum. And if we knew what we were doing, surely we would not be standing around in an vast architectural folly at all.

Perhaps there are plans to build two Millennium Domes: one for each class. There could be a Capitalist Dome (with real jam in the doughnut and fresh cream on top) where the answers to Mandelson's questions could be answered pretty swiftly. Who Are We? A class of people who are entitled to live without working because we possess enough property to make others work for us. Where do we live? In the very best homes that money can pay to have built. What do we do? We enjoy ourselves at the expense of the time stolen from the vast majority who have spent the last century accepting a system where we do what we like while they do as they're told.

Then there will be the jam-tomorrow doughnut for the proles. Who are we? A class that exists to be exploited so that a minority may be enriched? Where do we live? On the whole, in places where we would not choose to live, can just about afford to rent or mortgage, and the Queen Mother wouldn't see fit to keep her horses.

What do we do?
Well, that's the question, isn't it? Do we really allow ourselves to be taken in by such unadulterated garbage as Mandelson's millennial festival? Do we allow ourselves to be taken in by his party and the system it seeks to continue? Do we really envisage another century of this madness of class division and production for profit rather than need? Do we accept this spectre which is haunting the coming millennium—the spectre of endless capitalism? Or do we peak through the crack in the dome and see the chance of a world developed in the image of humanity?
Steve Coleman

Healey v. Benn: they won, you lost (1981)

From the October 1981 issue of the Socialist Standard

By the time you read this the battle will be over. The mud-slinging will have subsided and victory will have gone to the 'right' (Healey) or to the 'left' (Benn). But whichever side has won, the battle they fought will not have been over basic differences of principles as to how we should live but over personal ambitions and minor details of political administration. In fact what divided the two candidates for Labour's deputy leadership was nothing like as important as what united them.

What united them—and what will continue to unite them—is their common commitment to a political party that exists to defend and manage the system by which a small minority of the population owns a large majority of the wealth. What divides them is not the question of whether this system is the best way of organising human affairs—both are convinced that it is—but the details of how this system (capitalism) is to be organised.

Making the best of it
So neither Healey nor Benn argue that they can get rid of capitalism, but rather that they know how to make the best of it. They promise they have ways of solving some of its major problems—unemployment, inflation, poverty, threat of war. Healey says he can improve things by cutting interest rates, cutting VAT, cutting the National Insurance surcharge, increasing state spending and negotiating for world disarmament. Benn favours getting out of the Common Market, extending nationalisation, bringing in import controls and disarming Britain unilaterally. Both men pledged that as deputy leader these were the policies they would work for.

Both men also—and this is another thing that unites them—talked as though they were unaware of the extent to which any party in government is forced to adopt not the policies it might like to but those dictated by the conditions it finds. Yet Healey and Benn should know this, for they were both ministers in the last Labour government, which, like others before it, made extravagant promises about social reform and wealth sharing then very quickly found that capitalism would not allow these promises to be carried out. In 1973 the Labour Party publication Labour's Programme for Britain, with which both Healey and Benn were closely associated, promised 'a massive and irreversible shift in the distribution of both wealth and power in favour of working people and their families'. The following February Benn said: 'The crisis that we inherit when we come to power will be the occasion for fundamental change and not the occasion for postponing it.' And when Labour got to power later that year, Healey made his famous pledge to 'squeeze the rich until the pips squeak'.

Dismal failure
A measure of what actually happened in the five years of Labour rule that followed was given on the 30th of January 1979 when Robert Sheldon, Financial Secretary to the Treasury, stated in the House of Commons that an average family of four were £2.65 per week worse off in real terms than in 1974. Then in July 1979 the Royal Commission on the Distribution of Wealth and Income reported that in 1974-76 (the first two years of Labour rule) the richest one per cent of the population increased its share of the national wealth from 22.5 per cent to 24.9 per cent and the richest 10 per cent increased theirs from 57.5 per cent to 60,6 per cent. (The gap between rich and poor had actually shrunk a little during the previous Heath administration — further evidence of how capitalism has a mind of its own regardless of which party is in power.)

Neither Healey nor Benn resigned their Cabinet posts during that dismal failure of a government, and Healey now even denies that Labour failed at all. In his deputy leadership manifesto (Socialism with a Human Face, September 1981), he is not ashamed to call the 1974-79 government 'quite a remarkable success'—which, if it was, makes one wonder what actual failure would be like for a Labour government!

False morality
That Healey lacks modesty and the capacity to admit failure is further illustrated by the form of his manifesto, a 'put-up' interview with a political friend, and by the breathtaking statement (p. 14): "The only reason why I'm a politician rather than the things I'd like to have done (such as being a film director or writing a book on the theory of beauty or about art) is that I do want to change the world" (our emphasis). Benn is not so far behind either. In an interview in the Sunday Times (6 September 1981) he did not shrink from volunteering the information that 'When I was ill I had 5000 letters' and that he aimed to be Prime Minister.

In professional politicians none of this should perhaps be surprising. But what does make you sit up is the high-sounding moral formula they use to dress up their meanness and self-concern. Healey's manifesto for example is littered with pious appeals to such things as 'human brotherhood', 'the moral objective' and 'the tradition of humanity and common sense'. Yet it fails to explain what happened to these high ideals when, during Labour's last term of office, 45,000 old people died from hypothermia each year, seven million people were living at or below the official poverty line, thousands of hospital beds were cut, prices and unemployment doubled and council house building was reduced to its lowest rate since the war.

The unspoken answer is that the world market and the property-protecting laws of capitalism made nonsense of 'human brotherhood', 'the moral objective' and 'humanity and common sense'. They showed as always that you cannot have capitalism and escape its consequences. You cannot administer a system based on the principle of 'no production no profit' and hope that people will not suffer from the application of this principle. You can't do it, as Benn would like, by nationalising things. Nationalised concerns—like private ones—as we are constantly being told, must be 'viable'. Their function anyway is not to abolish or attenuate the effects of the profit system but to get it to work better as a whole.

Giving the game away
Yet, despite their lofty morality, if you listen to the Healeys and the Benns long enough, in the end they give the game away. Benn did it when, after the first flush of the last Labour government's enthusiasm had died down, he said: 'The government does not dictate the pace of industrial change. It interacts with reality" (Guardian 21/5/75). Healey did it last month in his manifesto: "I don't believe that socialism is compatible with a fixed body of doctrine. Society changes from year to year, from country to country; the essential thing in politics is the moral objective. The means by which you seek to achieve it are bound to be different in different countries at different times". What they were both saying here was "give us carte blanche to do what we like when we get to power and we'll call it socialism.

Middle class or working class? (2001)

From the August 2001 issue of the Socialist Standard

If you are a member of the so-called “middle class”, is your life better than a member of the “working class”? Well, your income may be higher, and this may enable you to obtain a better home, a better car, better food, better electronic goods, a better pension, better child education, better holidays . . . But then again, let's take a closer look at those “better” benefits.

Keeping hold of that better home may depend on you not losing your better income. But with globalised free markets, there comes unavoidable pressure on employers to minimise wages and maximise savings in order to stay in business and increase profits. This results in job losses from mergers and takeovers as firms seek efficiencies of scale, greater market share and more financial clout and protection from becoming bigger players. There is also further pressure to keep up with more competitive rivals who sack employees here as new technology permits switching over to cheaper workers in large call centres and other remote business service facilities in counties like India. Previously “safe” occupations like banking and insurance have already seen such transferences of many jobs, and this trend will inevitably continue with many more lower-paid employees in other countries taking over from the middle class in additional occupations as the technology and business opportunities make this more attainable and appealing.

That better car will often get snarled-up in traffic with all the others wasting your precious time. The police will set up increasing numbers of speed cameras to raise revenue as you rush about to, from and during work, causing you further aggravation. Privatised traffic wardens, too, will want to keep their jobs by taking some of the pay from yours if they can. Your insurance will keep rising as growing inequality causes poorer motorists to choose inferior cheaper policies, or avoid paying altogether. Eventually, the carcinogenic chemicals and particulates from exhaust fumes inhaled during all those years of driving may exact their toll on your health – perhaps just after you retire to enjoy your last work-free years.

That better food you bought – organic of course – may in fact turn out to be nothing of the sort. When it's so easy to use deceptive labels or sell ordinary food as organic and thereby pocket far bigger profits, and there are no, or very few, expensive checks on quality, your hopes of avoiding pesticides, fungicides and other nasties will be defeated by others ruthlessly pursuing that same capitalist necessity called money that you yourself are also chasing, day in, day out.

The better video cameras, TVs, computers and other electronic gizmos are being manufactured to become obsolete in ever shorter periods of time as businesses ever desperate for more profit want you to buy another new replacement. And another. And another. And as you do so, the landfill sites grow ever bigger with dangerous poisons that will leech into the water we drink, and rubbish incinerators will pump ever more quantities of cancer-causing PCBs, dioxins and other chemicals into our lungs.

The better pension you expected to enjoy after you retire turns out to have not been as successfully invested as you thought, and will only provide a half or even a third of what you had expected, leaving you with the prospect of either making do with a much worse standard of living in your old age, or continuing to work into your 60s or even your 70s, assuming you are able to, and can find an employer wanting someone who may then be far less efficient than a blindly enthusiastic younger employee.

The better educated children will no doubt “benefit” from their schooling and parental encouragement to become middle class workers themselves, doomed to carry on the same crass competition for bigger pieces of cheese in the endless rat race.

And when you go on your better holiday – assuming you haven't been affected by “presenteeism”, and avoided taking it for fear of being seen as lacking commitment – do you honestly think that a couple of weeks in the sun will make up for all those months of pressure and stress?

Worst of all there's your failure to see that you never did belong to a superior middle class, since your exploitation to produce profits for employers meant you were in fact a member of the working class, with problems and suffering just as bad as experienced by those stacking supermarket shelves, selling McFood or sewing clothes in sweat shops. And by failing to see that you were all collectively exploited by capitalism – instead believing yourself to have been above others – you helped maintain the divisive system that unnecessarily cheated, manipulated and punished you all. An overwhelming majority of people who had always possessed the opportunity to come together and get rid of all their problems for good, but never had the sense to do it.

Do you agree that all workers who produce profit for others, by being denied full payment for their work – the only way profit can be made – are in the same capitalist boat? You do? Then why not row with us towards a money-less, stress-free, socialist future of free access to whatever we need, rather than keep going round in inescapable circles by constantly competing with one another? Wouldn't that be “better” for us all?
Max Hess

Thursday, September 10, 2015

Legality and Revolution. (1908)

From the February 1908 issue of the Socialist Standard

Because, with the International, we shout warnings of the pitfalls to the workers of France, whom it is sought to divert from political action under the pretexts of the general strike and other operations of the holy ghost of Anarchism, some of the bourgeois press conclude that we have more and more the physiognomy of a parliamentary party. According to them we have renounced revolutionary procedure.
But then - you will think - there must be rejoicing among the conservative genus; surely the fatted calf already turns on the spit for the return of the collectivist sheep to the fold of legality.
Hasten to correct yourselves. Our brave quill-drivers start from what they call our rally or conversion to parliamentarism to denounce us with greater vehemence, and to vanquish us under the redoubled fire of their anathemas.
What, then, is this mystery? And how explain such contradictory language? Quite simply by this - which is not at all mysterious - that our adversaries do not believe a word of what they tell their readers. They know that far from turning the back to the revolution we maintain and impel the army of the workers in the revolutionary road, when, instead of allowing it to engage itself in the blind alley of a systematized strike, we show it the political power -the state - to be conquered.
This conquest is, indeed, an indispensable condition of the social revolution, in other words, of the transformation of capitalist property into social property. It is only after and by the political expropriation of the capitalist class that its economic expropriation can be achieved, as is recognised by the common programme of Socialists the world over.
In order to restore the means of wealth production to the producers, there must be a proletariat having become the government and making law. It remains now to be seen how from being as now a governed class, the workers can and will become the governing class. The ballot, which has already installed us in numerous Hôtels de Ville and which has put an important minority into the Palais Bourbon is the first means. But will it be the sole?
No more than we believed this yesterday do we believe it to-day. But since when, because it will not be all, must legal action be therefore nothing? Far from excluding each other, electoral action and revolutionary action complete each other, and have always completed each other in our country where - for all parties - the victorious insurrection has been but the consequence, the crowning of the ballot.
The antagonism that it is sought to establish - useless to enquire why - between the suffrage which commences and the stroke of force which terminates, has never existed except in the hollowest of phrases. History, all history, is there to demonstrate that the deviations from legality have always and necessarily been preceded by the usages and employment of that legality as long as it served as a defensive - and offensive - arm to the new idea, to the new interests in their recruitment, and while the revolutionary situation had not yet been produced.
It was legally and electorally that Orleanism prepared its advent to power. That, however, did not prevent it finally coming to musket shots in a three days’ battle. The “glorious” three days immortalised by the July column.
It was legally, electorally, that Bonapartism installed itself at the Elysée. But this did not prevent it from employing force - and what force! The rifle killing Baudin, and the cannon shattering the Boulevard Montmartre - in order to move into the Tuilleries as the third and last Empire.
The Republic was no exception to this rule. Twice (under the July monarchy and under the Empire) it legally and electorally constituted its army and partly gained the country. But this again did not prevent the Republic, in order to become the 1907 government presided over by M. Fallières, from having to pass through a violent accouchement by means of the forceps of street battles.
Well! Socialism to-day is legalist, electoralist, by the same title as all other political parties which have preceded it, and which are at present coalesced against it with what remains of their virility. We do not pretend to innovate, we content ourselves with the means of struggle and victory which have served others and of which we will serve ourselves in our turn. If anything is particularly idiotic it is the divergence that has been made between the means, divided into legal and illegal, into pacific and violent, in order to admit the one and exclude the other.
There is not, and there never will be, other than a single category of means, determined by circumstances: those which conduct to end pursued. And these means are always revolutionary when there is a question of a revolution to be accomplished.
The vote, however legal it may be, is revolutionary when on the basis of class candidatures it organises France of labour against France of capital. Parliamentary action, however pacific is may be, is revolutionary when from the height of the tribune of the Chambre it beats the call to the discontented of the workshop, field and counter; and when it drives capitalist society to bay in the refusal or powerlessness of the latter to give the workers satisfaction.
Anti-revolutionary, reactionary in the highest degree, would the riot on the other hand be, in spite of its character of illegality and violence, because by furnishing the popular blood-letting that moribund capitalism needs for survival, the riot would put back the hour of deliverance. Not less anti-revolutionary, not less reactionary -and for the same reason - is all attempt at general strike that is condemned, through working-class and peasant divisions, to the most disastrous and abortive results.
The duty of the Socialist Party is to avoid as a snare, as a machination of the enemy or to the profit of the enemy, all that which in spite of its scarlet and explosive character would mislead and uselessly exhaust our forces of the first line; and to use parliament, as we use the press and the meetings, in order to complete the proletarian education and organisation, and to bring to a conclusion the revolution that is prepared by this end of at social order.
(Translated from Le Socialisme)
Jules Guesde

An unofficial Workers' Committee (1968)

From the June 1968 issue of the Socialist Standard

Are unofficial committees made up of wreckers? Does the Communist Party finance them? Do the communists and trotskyists work together? A member, formerly associated with one such committee in the printing industry, describes how it worked:

The printing unions, as is well known, are amongst the strongest in the country and are especially well-organised in the national newspapers in Fleet Street. As is also well-known, there are a number of craft unions which feel themselves threatened by the general printing union, the Society of Graphical and Allied Trades. SOGAT organises certain craft sections and also warehousemen, semi-skilled printers, clerks and cleaners. By the autumn of 1966, after the passing of the anti-union Prices and Incomes Act in August, active unionists were growing dissatisfied with Labour. Sensing this mood, a few anarcho-syndicalist printworkers decided to call a public meeting of printworkers to discuss what ordinary trade unionists might do to oppose the wage freeze and the anti-union laws.

At a second meeting, held in a Fleet Street pub on 25 October, thirteen printworkers, mainly SOGAT members, met to discuss the formation of an unofficial workers' committee. Those present besides the anarchists were two trotskyists of the "international socialism" brand, and a few ordinary pro-Labour militant unionists. The promoters had intended that any committee should come out clearly against the Labour Party but the trotskyists opposed this. The week previously, a delegate meeting of the 10,000 strong London clerical branch of SOGAT had carried a resolution calling upon the SOGAT EC
to prepare the Union for a policy of independence from all Governments and political parties and, to this end, suggests that the EC ballot those members who pay the political levy as to whether our present affiliation to the Labour Party should continue.
The trotskyists, both of whom ironically were members of unions not affiliated to Labour, dismissed this. One of them, journalist Paul Foot, said that these people had voted against affiliation because they did not see the point of paying money to a party that froze their wages, and not because they wanted fundamental social change (which was quite true, but their reason seems sensible enough). Foot described this as "mere trade union consciousness". The time to leave Labour, he said, would be when the workers were deserting it for a revolutionary policy.

After much discussion, in which those opposed to Labour made it quite clear that the disaffiliation issue must be raised as this was one of their reasons for proposing an unofficial committee, a compromise was agreed. One of the aims of the Association of Rank and File Printworkers which was established that evening was "to campaign within the printing unions for a ballot of the membership on the question of continued affiliation to the Labour Party". The other aims were: to fight the wage freeze and anti-union laws, including encouraging "sympathetic industrial action" should Labour invoke the penal clauses of their act; one union for printing; and to work with other "rank and file movements".

The Labour government used their anti-union Act three times against printworkers, each time playing on other workers' prejudices against people they believed to be higher paid: against printers and clerks in the national newspapers, against some inkworkers (who, incidentally, did break the law by forcing their employers to pay them more despite the Order. Significantly, the government did nothing) and against clerks in the news agencies. After issuing a journal, the Printworker, the Association, through a SOGAT chapel (as the workshop or office unit is called in the print), organised a meeting to protest against the wage freeze. A left-wing Labour MP. Sid Bidwell (ironically once an IS trotkyist), agreed to speak but withdrew when he learned that the Branch Secretary had declared that, under the rules of SOGAT, a chapel had no right to call a meeting.

At the meeting, held on 29 March and attended by about 70 people, including SOGAT officials Brady and President-elect Flynn, a resolution to organise a strike on 30 June was carried by 36 votes to 12. Brady, a branch secretary, argued that the union leadership was militant enough but they could not act without the support of the members. He felt that most members were apathetic and would not follow a militant lead. Although this was probably true, it was not well received by the meeting. Brady's dilemma was that of all elected officials who want to be militant—elected by a minority of union activists they are responsible to an apathetic majority. Other, conservative officials readily use the apathetic majority to oppose the militants. A committee of eight, including two dissatisfied supporters of the Communist Party, was elected by the meeting to organise any action.

The committee decided to organise a march through Fleet Street on May Day proper, a working day as it fell on a Monday. Some other workers' organisations, mainly influenced by IS trotskyists, agreed to take part and on the day some 200 hundred people marched. A meeting, held after the march, again voted to strike—this time on 3 July, the day the government was expected to invoke Part II of their Prices and Incomes Act, giving them power to delay wage increases. By now it was evident that some members of the Association had grandiose plans for organising a national rank and file movement that would use industrial action against the government. That this was a totally unrealistic aim was soon grasped and it was later agreed to drop industrial action and concentrate on spreading the aims of the Association amongst printworkers.

The Cameron Report on unofficial committees in various London building sites which came out last year refused to believe Lou Lewis, a Communist unofficial leader, when he said that his committee was financed by donations and collections from supporters. The report called him a liar and implied that the Communist Party provided the money. The Report, due to ignorance of working class organisations, could not believe that unofficial committees really had so informal an organisation as they seemed. Though it is true that informal organisation (no constitution, no dues, no minutes) does carry with it the danger of take-ovwer by eltist groups like the Communists and trotskyists, the Report's charge is not backed by any evidence. Certainly, the Association of rank and File Printworkers was financed entirely from donation, collections and sales of the Printworker.

In fact, the Communist Party was opposed to the Association. As the June issue of the Printworker noted:
Already within the Printing industry the people who took part in the demonstration are being branded as 'communist troublemakers'. In fact, although individual members of the Communist party attended the demonstrations and actively worked to make it a success, the official Party made no secret of their opposition to it, and in fact went as far as to describe it as 'adventurist'.
Jack Dash also advised dockers not to take part in the May Day march through Fleet Street.

Present Communist Party industrial policy is to organise discontented workers behind Labour's left and left-wing union leaders like Cousins, Scanlon and, for that matter, Briginshaw of SOGAT. This was one of the reasons why the Association turned down a proposal, sponsored by an IS trotskyist (and Gunther can make what he likes of it!), to join the Liaison Committee for the Defence of Trade Unionism, in which the Communists are very prominent.

The theory of the most active members of the Association tended rather to the syndicalist idea of so-called direct action, scorning all political action as useless. Some of its members, and once again they were wrong, saw the Association as a rival and possible replacement of the existing "bureaucratic" unions. From a Socialist point of view (and of course each Socialist Party members makes up his own mind as to what organisation or action is best suited in the place or industry where he works) unofficial committees are a useful adjunct to the unions, putting pressure on the officials from below to act more in the interest of the working class. Certainly they are not an alternative to the unions. 
 
 
Blogger's Note: 
Though unsigned, this article was probably written by Terry Lord.

The coming century (2000)

From the January 2000 issue of the Socialist Standard
Well, this is it! This is what? The brand new century—a row of virginal 0s waiting to be filled in. So what? So . . . so, it's time to take stock. Of what? Of where we are . . . who we are. History. Bollocks!
The first thing to realise is that history does not arrive at midnight, like a rabbit out of a magician's hat. History makes nothing, brings nothing, stands for nothing. History is social motion and the speed and texture of that motion is made by men and women. We make it out of the material environment that exists and in making it transform the material environment and our own existence. We make our own future; it does not arrive as hero or demon, but is the product of our own energy.
Secondly, there is a harsh truth to recognise. The battle to make the future better than the past is about power, not ideals. We all want to be happy, but happiness for Rupert Murdoch is achievable in a different way than for a single mother in Brixton. Murdoch needs to hold on to his power and expand it. The single mother needs to gain power. Murdoch has a class interest based upon the ownership and control of property. The working-class interest is based upon its non-ownership and control of property. Consciousness of these interests and organisation to promote them is the key to changing history. So, the question is not about what the future will bring, but about what we have the intelligence and the political force to take for ourselves.
Thirdly, the future is not a moment and is not Out There, like a Star Trek story. It is a process in which the present second is always a part. The beginning of the future starts with an understanding of where one is. There are no solutions until the problem is recognised. The complexities of our future are inextricably connected to the contradictions of the present. That is why stargazers and prophets are always faintly ridiculous, obsessed as they are by imagined destinies.
We owe them a future
What's rotten
By 2100 it would be rather nice if the world could have seen the last of

  • Nation states—homely prison enclosures in which the inmates sing the prison song and coloured rags fly overhead to remind you of which wing you're in.
  • Banks—repositories of paper and metal tokens that people need in order to buy existence.
  • Sir Cliff Richard—the singing ayatollah of creepy Christendom who has managed against all odds to put a tune to the act of fraud.
  • Wages and salaries—the price on our heads, always less than the value of what we produce, which are the stale air provided for the semi-suffocated majority in a world where they produce much and possess little.
  • Telephone muzak—designed to drive us slowly mad while we wait to speak to people we probably don't want to speak to about matters we'd rather not be discussing.
  • Charities—which redistribute poverty, enabling the abjectly poor to benefit from the guilt of the moderately poor.
  • America—the ultimate trash-empire, based on the principle that no-one ever went broke by underestimating the intelligence of the inhabitants.
  • Markets—which are presented as channels of economic access, but are obstacle courses which ration access in accordance with the callous priority of profit accumulation.
  • Lenin-worshippers—those insufferable lefties who see their role in this world to lead the witless masses into a state dictatorship where the Lenin-worshipers will become commissars.
  • Hymns—see Cliff Richard.
  • Government—the means whereby we are coerced into class regimentation by the force of law.
  • Socialists—a redundant label once the job is done.
New millennium—new social order?
The biggest failure of the twentieth century was the failure of humanity to grasp the need for a new social order based on need rather than profit. The consequences have been devastating. The thought of sustaining those consequences, embedded as they are in ever-increasing contradictions of anarchic global capitalism, is not only uninspiring, but deeply depressing. Although there is a prevailing political illusion that Capitalism Has Won, there is a remarkable absence of confidence, even among its supporters, in the capacity for humanising the global market.

The most pressing challenge this century will be to remove capitalism and establish a new social order based upon
  • Common ownership
  • Democratic control
  • Production solely for use
  • Free access to all goods and services
Such a system has never been tried. It conforms to the highest needs of humanity to create a world where order is based upon equality, friendship and freedom. It is humanity's objective in humanising its social environment.
Capitalism reduces us to conformity and obedience
There will be those who raise objections. They should. The most important next step is that at least there should be debate. Others will raise no objections, but continue to uphold the present system in a state of inert, apathetic and cynical resignation. They are the bulwarks of global capitalism which relies not upon enthusiastic support but hopeless acquiescence. Shaking such hopelessness, and offering what Raymond Williams called "resources of hope", may well be the most important political task of our age.
Steve Coleman

Marx: Money Must Go (1985)

From the September 1985 issue of the Socialist Standard
In the section of the Communist Manifesto devoted to "German or 'True' Socialism" Marx and Engels said of "German philosophers, would-be philosophers and beaux esprits" influenced by socialist ideas that "beneath the French criticism of the economic function of money, they wrote Alienation of Humanity', and beneath the French criticism of the bourgeois State they wrote 'Dethronement of the Category of the General', and so forth".
What Marx forgot to add was that it was precisely in these sort of terms that he had expressed himself in the first article he wrote after becoming a socialist in 1843. This article, a criticism of a book on the Jewish Question was published in the Deutsch-Franzosiche Jahrbucher in Paris in 1844. It is important because it showed a clear understanding that the establishment of socialism involves the disappearance of both the state and money, a view Marx held to for the rest of his life but which has been largely forgotten by the great majority of those who call themselves Marxists (but who in fact stand for a state capitalism in which money would continue to exist).
The first part of Marx's On the Jewish Question while supporting the granting of full political rights to religious Jews (as non-Christians) within existing society, argues that political democracy is not enough as it does not amount to "human emancipation", which can only be achieved "when man has recognised and organised his 'forces propres' (own powers) as social forces, and consequently no longer separates social power from himself in the shape of political power" (Marx/Engels.Collected Works, Volume 3, Moscow, 1975, p.168).
The second, shorter part applies the same sort of reasoning to money: "emancipation from . . . money", writes Marx, "would be the self-emancipation of our time" (p.170). Unfortunately for modern socialists, his attack on money took the form of a criticism of the "actual worldly Jew, the everyday Jew" as portrayed in the still widespread but inaccurate popular image of Jews as sharp traders and "men of money". Thus, after writing that "money has become a world power and the practical Jewish spirit has become the practical spirit of the Christian nations. The Jews have emancipated themselves insofar as the Christians have become Jews", Marx gives as an example the situation in America as described by Thomas Hamilton in Men and Manners in North America:
“The devout and politically free inhabitant of New England is a kind of Laocoon who makes not the least effort to escape from the serpents which are crushing him. Mammon is his idol which he adores not only with his lips but with the whole force of his body and mind. In his view the world is no more than a Stock Exchange, and he is convinced that he has no other destiny here below than to become richer than his neighbour. Trade has seized upon all his thoughts. and he has no other recreation than to exchange objects. When he travels he carries, so to speak, his goods and his counter on his back and talks only of interest and profit. If he loses sight of his own business for an instant it is only in order to pry into the business of his competitors.”
So Marx’s argument was not directed against the Jews as people (from one point of view it can be seen as a contribution to the debate then going on among Jews and ex-Jews—like himself—as to their future) but rather against the sort of society described by Hamilton which now exists, to a greater or lesser extent, in all countries. The argument that the solution to the Jewish Question lay, not in the Jews disappearing by becoming atheists or Christians as others had suggested, but in the establishment of a moneyless society in which  “Jewish . . . (money-making) behaviour” would be impossible, was bound to be regarded as anti-Semitic by religious Jews and Jewish nationalists in the quite different political and historical context of the 20th century. This charge is nonsense; otherwise it would have to be pinned on all advocates of Jewish assimilation and on all critics of the Jewish religion (and as an atheist Marx was naturally a critic of Judaism, with its ridiculous rituals and rules governing all aspects of everyday behaviour, as of all other religions).
This no doubt explains why the second part of On the Jewish Question –which is basically an attack on money and a call for the establishment of a moneyless society as the way to achieve 'human emancipation"—has not been given the same circulation as some of Marx's other writings of the same period, for example The Economic and Philosophical Manuscripts of 1844. In a sense this is a pity since in it are to be found some of Marx's strongest denunciations of money and its effects on relations between people:
“Practical need, egoism, is the principle of civil society, and as such appears in a pure form as soon as civil society has fully given birth to the political state. The god of practical need and self-interest is money. Money is the jealous god of Israel, in face of which no other god may exist. Money degrades all the gods of man—and turns them into commodities. Money is the universal self-established value of all things. It has therefore robbed the whole world—both the world of men and nature—of  its specific value. Money is the estranged essence of man's work and man's existence, and this alien essence dominates him, and he worships it” (p.172).
“Selling is the practical aspect of alienation. Just as man, as long as he is in the grip of religion, is able to objectify his essential nature only by turning it into something alien, something fantastic, so under the domination of egoistic need he can be active practically, and produce objects in practice, only by putting his products, and his activity, under the domination of an alien being, and bestowing the significance of an alien entity—money--on them” (p.174).
Of course this criticism is still rather philosophical—capitalism (a term which Marx doesn't even use) is identified with individualism, "a world of atomistic individuals who are inimically opposed to one another" (p.173). Marx argues that in such a world it is money that emerges as the god to which everything else is subordinated and which completely dominates people’s lives.
Very soon however, Marx (who, it must be remembered, was still working his way towards a full understanding of capitalism and socialism) identified "private property" rather than "egoistic need" as the root cause of people's domination by money, in the sense that it was private property society that led to human beings being obliged to pursue their self-interest as the means to survive. In some unpublished notes he made in 1844 after reading James Mill's Elements of Political Economy (which marked the beginning of what was to become a life-long study, and critique, of political economy) Marx argued that in private property society people produce with a view to exchanging their products for money, so that what they produce becomes a matter of indifference to them as long as they can sell it, and that it is this that leads to money dominating their lives:
“Within the presupposition of division of labour, the product, the material of private property, acquires for the individual more and more the significance of an equivalent, and as he no longer exchanges only his surplus, and the object of his production can be simply a matter of indifference to him, so too he no longer exchanges his product for something directly needed by him. The equivalent comes into existence as an equivalent in money, which is now the immediate result of labour to gain a living and the medium of exchange.”
“The complete domination of the estranged thing over man has become evident in money, which is completely indifferent both to the nature of the material, i.e., to the specific nature of the private property, and to the personality of the property owner. What was the domination of person over person is now the general domination of the thing over the person, of the product over the producer. Just as the concept of the equivalent, the value, already implied the alienation of private property, so money is the sensuous, even objective existence of this alienation” (p.22).
Earlier in these same notes on Mill Marx had explained in more detail how human beings came to be dominated by the products of their own labour, while at the same time giving us a glimpse of how things would be different in a moneyless society:
“The essence of money is not, in the first place, that property is alienated in it, but that the mediating activity or movement, the human, social act by which man's products mutually complement one another, is estranged from man and becomes the attribute of money, a material thing outside man. Since man alienates this mediating activity itself, he is active here only as a man who has lost himself and is dehumanised; the relation itself between things, man's operation with them, becomes the operation of an entity outside and above man. Owing to this alien mediator—instead of man himself being the mediator for man—man regards his will, his activity and his relation to other men as a power independent of him and them. His slavery, therefore, reaches its peak. It is clear that this mediator now becomes a real God, for the mediator is the real power over what it mediates to me. Its cult becomes an end in itself. Objects separated from this mediator have lost their value. Hence the objects only have value insofar as they represent the mediator, whereas originally it seemed that the mediator had value only insofar as it represented them. This reversal of the original relationship is inevitable” (p.212).
This is still fairly philosophical but the meaning is clear enough: in a “truly human" society (to speak like Marx at this time) human beings would produce products to satisfy their needs, and their products would "mutually complement one another"; this movement of products from the producer to those who needed them would not take place via money but would be directly organised under conscious human control; in addition, the value of a product would be the value humans put on it in terms of usefulness or capacity to give pleasure. With private property and production for money, on the other hand, this cannot happen: not only does the movement of products from producer to consumer come to be "mediated" by money, but the value of a product comes to be judged not in human terms but in terms of a sum of money; finally, the whole process of the production and distribution of wealth escapes from human control and is dominated by an alien force, money.
In his well-known Economic and Philosophical Manuscripts of 1844 (which were also never published in his life-time) Marx, in what could be regarded as a prophetic vision of the sort of commercial, advertisers' world we have to suffer today, expanded on the point about the pursuit of money becoming the main aim of life in private property society:
“The need for money is therefore the true need produced by the economic system, and it is the only need which the latter produces. The quantity of money becomes to an ever greater degree its sole effective quality. Just as it reduces everything to its abstract form, so it reduces itself in the course of its own movement to quantitative being. Excess and intemperance come to be its true norm.
Subjectively, this appears partly in the fact that the extension of products and needs becomes a contriving and ever-calculating subservience to inhuman, sophisticated, unnatural and imaginary appetites. Private property does not know how to change crude need into human need. Its idealism is fantasy, caprice and whim; and no eunuch flatters his despot more basely or uses more despicable means to stimulate his dulled capacity for pleasure in order to sneak a favour for himself than does the industrial eunuch—the producer—in order to sneak for himself a few pieces of silver, in order to charm the golden birds out of the pockets of his dearly beloved neighbours in Christ. He puts himself at the service of the other's most depraved fancies, plays the pimp between him and his need, excites in him morbid appetites, lies in wait for each of his weaknesses—all so that he can then demand cash for this service of love. Every product is a bait with which to seduce away the other's very being, his money: every real and possible need is a weakness which will lead the fly to the gluepot” (p.307).
In an earlier passage Marx had once again contrasted this with the situation that would obtain in socialism, where the object of production would be to satisfy real human needs, above all the need for human relations with other human beings. This—a society in which people would relate to people, not as "atomistic individuals", but as a "true human community—was Marx's somewhat philosophical definition of socialism at this time.
Nobody reading these passionate denunciations of money can be left with any doubt that Marx stood for a moneyless society. Although he abandoned some of the more flowery philosophical language in his later published works such as A Critique of Political Economy (1859) and Capital (1867), he never abandoned his view that money should be abolished through the establishment of a society based on common ownership and production directly for human need. Indeed, his later analysis of the process of capitalist production was still based on his early view that in capitalist society the producers (the working class) were dominated by the product of their own labour which had escaped from their control and confronted them as an alien, exploiting force (capital). But, then, the distinction between an "early", philosophical and a "later", scientific Marx has never been all that convincing, since not only are the views of the so-called early Marx to be found in his later writings, but also his early writings are not just philosophising as to the true nature of humanity, as the following passage from the Economic and Philosophical Manuscripts of 1844 shows:
“An enforced increase of wages (disregarding all other difficulties, including the fact that it would only be by force, too, that such an increase, being an anomaly, could be maintained) would therefore be nothing but better payment for the slave, and would not win either for the worker or for labour their human status and dignity. Indeed, even the equality of wages, as demanded by Proudhon, only transforms the relationship of the present-day worker to his labour into the relationship of all men to labour. Society is then conceived as an abstract capitalist.
Wages are a direct consequence of estranged labour, and estranged labour is the direct cause of private property. The downfall of the one must therefore involve the downfall of the other. From the relationship of estranged labour to private property it follows further that the emancipation of society from private property, etc., from servitude, is expressed in the political form of the emancipation of the workers; not that their emancipation alone is at stake, but because the emancipation of the workers contains universal human emancipation—and it contains this, because the whole of human servitude is involved in the relation of the worker to production, and all relations of servitude are but modifications and consequences of this relation” (p.280).

Adam Buick